We're trying to get caught up again. Any time there's a concert, like this week with Hilary Hahn, the schedule gets thrown out of whack, which is why I'm posting two days in a row. On a side note, can you believe I used to write over 300 blogs a year? In 2018 it was 349! Ever since it became a Movie Blog, I've been doing them every other day, but anyhow, on with the show: last night, we watched "Police Dog"(1955), produced with the approval of the London Metropolitan Police Department. Two foot-patrol officers are on break in the warehouse district of Kentish town, chatting about their college days. One notes that the other was a track star and says, "did ya good for for catching bad guys. Me, I'm a half-pack-a-day man. That's why I'm always trailin' ya." Just then, they notice a factory gate ajar. Inspecting inside the high-walled industrial block, they discover a burglar and the sprinter cop takes off after him. The slower guy pursues in an opposite direction, hoping to encircle the bad guy, but he gets there too late; his partner has been shot. The burglar escapes.
Bemoaning this at the station, the officer laments that he wasn't fast enough. "If I was, I could've prevented him getting shot". "You should take one of our dogs," his sergeant suggests. Post WW2, police dogs became widely used after the Nazis had success with their training. Paul McCartney's childhood house was next to a police dog training field. One just like it is shown in this movie, with the training officers putting the dogs through their paces. The officer in question agrees to become a dog handler and chooses Rex, a bright-eyed German Shepherd. He has a double purpose in mind, thinking Rex will also make his fiance feel safe at home. She doesn't like him being a policeman, but Rex takes to her and calms her down. Then the couple start arguing because she wants to baby Rex, and he says, "That dog is not a pet!" His fiance treats him like one, feeding him treats, letting him sit on the couch. "He'll lick the hand of the first criminal he sees!" This causes friction between the couple, who live with an older lady who calls the officer "my adopted son." Their relationship isn't clear, but it's not important.
Throughout the movie, the officer keeps asking for news about the burglar who shot his partner, who later dies in the hospital. The sarge tells him "let CID handle it" (the special investigative division). They don't want him in angry revenge mode. A subthread features a young Christopher Lee, hairline already receding (and he must have some Spanish heritage, he's quite dark), as a cop who scoffs at the usefulness of dogs. "We don't need 'em, those of us who are capable, that is." He insinuates dogs are for wimp coppers, but really he's worried about becoming obsolete. Christopher Lee used as comic relief! Ultimately, you know there will be face off with the burglar partner-killer from the beginning of the movie. He reenters the plot at about the 35 minute mark, living in a hovel flat with his platinum bimbo girlfriend, who drinks up his "last mouthful" of gin. She's pissed he ain't got no more. He swears he's got another heist he can pull, but she begs him not to: "Them's lookin' all over town for ya, searchin' every cornah. Just get you a job, why don't ya?"
He finally has to get a casual labor job or they won't be able to eat, but the cops come asking at the job site. When a criminal kills a cop, no stone goes unturned. Now the robber cop-killer is paranoid. He walks off his job, goes back to his flat, and immediately plans a safecracking caper so he and his bimbo can leave the country.
Rex the Police Dog will have the final say in that, but not before his handler corners the robber during his final heist, after a beat cop notices, once again, a sidewalk gate left open. Two Big Thumbs Up for "Police Dog", more or less a promotional film. If you like German Shepherds, this is the movie for you. The picture is razor sharp. ////
The previous night's Brit Cop Flick was "Mrs. Pym of Skeertlynd Yearrrd"..... oops, I mean "Scotland Yard"(1940), in which "Mrs. Pym" (Mary Clare) is called in as a specialist, like a Lady Colombo, when the London police can't solve the murders of two women in a psychic group. The Green Room Seance Company is popular with the gentry in the city. Mrs. Pym, a tall, large lady (she looks strong) is 50ish, very smart and witty. She suspects fraud first of all. She does believe in spiritualism, but knows it's full of charlatans. The policeman assigned to her is a male chauvinist who can't believe he's second to a woman. A reporter and his girlfriend (a tried-and-true part of the formula) are trying to solve the case on their own. It's all very Agatha Christie, except Mrs. Pym is a no-nonsense bruiser. Just a short review for the lady, but her movie gets Two Big Thumbs Up. It's one I'll re-watch when I don't have so much on my mind. The picture is very good. ////
Now, in analyzing September 1989 once again, what we are dealing with, in part, is a twisted neighborhood sex group, based out of two houses (that we know of): Marshal Lester's house on Rathburn Ave, and Jared Rappaport's house on Etiwanda. Their houses sandwiched mine in, as mentioned, and we've been trying to figure how Lillian could've become involved. I'll guess that it was not entirely voluntary. Here's why: even if Lillian had an overdriven libido, combined with a psychological condition resulting from abuse, she would not have selected a guy like Marshal Lester. She called him a "bodybuilder." He wasn't exactly that. He looked, from a distance, to be in good shape, physically fit like he worked out with weights, but "bodybuilder" is stretching it. Okay, let's say that Lillian liked guys who were in good shape. But she really was attracted to "cute" guys, rock stars like Tom Petersson. Thin guys, 20-30, with shag haircuts. Marshal Lester, at the time, was closing in on 40. He was stocky, had short-cropped hair, cut military style (I believe he was in the Navy), and - most importantly, though one could say he was somewhat handsome, he was also a bit of a nerd. I'm not just saying that because he was an asshole who preyed on my at-the-time girlfriend. I'm saying that because, if you were Lillian, or me, or anyone in our group, you would've said - at best - "this guy is no rock star". And Lillian liked rock stars, especially cute ones. That's who she was attracted to, not blocky, older workout buffs like Marshal Lester, dorks with short hair.
Lillian was a great beauty, with charisma to light up the sky. She could've had any man she wanted. She would not choose Marshal Lester, and we know he was a predator. Kim told us: "he hits on girls at CSUN."
Now, in examining the other Swinger House, that of Jared Rappaport on Etiwanda (located apprx. 75 yards from Marshal's house), we know that David Birke was initiated into the swinger lifestyle when Jared Rappaport invited him to a party, right around the time David was making his UCLA student movie at our house at 9032 Rathburn. We know that he went to at least one party, and we believe he discussed at least one party at a matinee showing of "Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child", which opened on August 11, 1989, just before the stuffing hit the fan. At that movie, one of the friends asked him, "did you ever go to that party"? David was being teased about it, because of its sexual nature. We believe he responded by laughing it off, "Oh, nothing happened. We just talked. They talked about their lifestyle (Rappaport and his brain-dead wife). We ate potato chips and drank Cokes. But I'm invited back if I wanna go, ha-ha." All of that is paraphrased, but that conversation definitely took place at the screening of Nightmare 5.
Okay, so what we are seeing here are two swinger couples, Marshal and his girlfriend, and Rappaport and the brain-dead Lynne, looking to add to their number. And we know Marshal is a predator. And we know David Birke was involved with the Rappaports.
Now let's see what else we know.
We know, because Jared Rappaport told me, when I was captive in his house, that - besides being a psychotic, infantile demon - he was also a "gigolo" (his term) for some of the neighborhood women.
We know that the late, great (but extremely deceptive) Dave Small had his hands in many aspects of the case. Dave Small was Lillian's direct link to the drug dealer Howard Schaller. Dave Small was at the infamous Pool Party at Concord Square, along with Lillian, Terry, and at least one other young woman. Gee, I wonder who she could've been?
Now, we are beginning to suspect that Dave Small's immediate family (I believe all deceased now, including Dave) may have had a few pecadillos. We know, for a fact, that his stepmom Pat, once called my Mom to ask, regarding me, "don't you think a 25-year-old man should be working?" And we know, because Dave told me, that his stepmom Pat once asked him a question: "What's she doing with him?" regarding me and Lillian. So it seems that Pat Small had at least a minor obsession with me, or at least a problem, and it connects to Jared Rappaport, who was very pissed off that, as he put it, "a guy who doesn't work" had caused his sexual lifestyle fun to come to an end (inadvertently on my part, as I have noted).
Now then, Jared Rappaport bragged about being a "gigolo" to some of the neighborhood women. Could Pat Small have been one of them? Just asking.
And is it possible that Lillian was blackmailed into joining Marshal Lester's group, because Pat knew about her and Terry, through her deceptive stepson Dave? Just asking.
It seems a stretch. It's hard to imagine Pat, an attractive but 60-ish woman at the time, confronting Lillian and saying "I'll tell Adam about you and Terry", or Marshal Lester confronting her at CSUN and saying "the neighborhood knows all about you and that Terry guy", and Lillian just sitting there and tolerating it.
However - and this is one of those Howevers that must be dragged out, like Howww-evv-er - on the night of September 1st, 1989, she was being questioned by the "Security" thug who reported to Terry's apartment. You remember the Security Thug; he held a knife to my stomach. But after I explained myself, and told him why I was yelling in the courtyard, he questioned Lillian and Terry, and she said - and this is crucial - she said (exact words): "I've been f-ing Terry Meissner for six months and I don't care who knows it."
"I don't care who knows it." Not, "I don't care if Adam knows it", or "I don't care if you know it" (meaning the thug himself, who was there to keep the problem in-house). Think about what she said. "I don't care who knows it."
Hmm, like maybe Dave and Pat Small, and Jared Rappaport, and Marshal Lester? Marshal Lester, who may have seen a beautiful girl coming and going from my house for years, who may have had his eye on her and coveted her?
Is that who Lillian meant when she said "I don't care who knows it" (in addition to my friends and relatives knowing it.) Could she have meant extreme weirdos like Marshal Lester, Jared Rappaport and Howard Schaller? Could she have been blackmailed into joining their "lifestyle"?
We know David Birke got into the "lifestyle" (and others later joined him) out of curiosity, after an invite from Rappaport himself.
But Lillian? She could've had any guy she wanted. She also could've left me, years earlier, and didn't. I think she hung on to me for emotional stability while being preyed upon from all sides, even if her own behavior, in some respects, caused her predators to select her.
Because Marshal Lester wasn't her type. Her type was Tom Petersson of the rock band Cheap Trick. Not a blocky, dorky-but handsome pervert like Marshal Lester.
Something was going on in the underbelly of the CSUN/Rathburn/Etiwanda nexus that included other college professors, like Ray Tippo (now wonderfully deceased, high five on that), and the despicable Eugene Carpenter. It had likely been going on at CSUN for quite some time, before Lillian even went there.
And all of this is only the "local" part of the story. Oh yes, they made their stupid little porno movies, too, and I know who's in them. But it's only the tip of the iceberg. ////
That's all I've got for tonight. My blogging music is "Zeit" by Tangerine Dream. My late night is Handel's Alcina Opera. I hope your weekend has been good, and I send you Tons of Love, as always.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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