Last night, we went back to Poverty Row for the first time in a while, to visit with producer Sam Katzman and our old pal Fuzzy Knight from so many of last year's 60 Minute Westerns. In "Kelly of the Secret Service"(1936) Fuzzy plays "Lefty Hogan", a hapless boxer who, along with his dimwit manager, is in need of money as the movie opens. Lefty can't get a fight these days, so the guys are forced to look for work, and they find jobs guarding the laboratory of "Doctor G. Marston" (Forrest Taylor), a mad scientist who is working on an "aerial" bomb (which is really a death ray). Lefty and his manager are as lousy as guards as they are at boxing, for no sooner do they begin than they are knocked unconcho by a gas-masked, chemical-suited assailant, who then enters the lab, gasses Dr. Marston and his assistant, and steals the plans for the aerial bomb.
That's when "Special Agent Kelly" (Lloyd Hughes) enters the picture. He starts by questioning all who were in the lab at the time, including Dr. Marston's secretary "Sally Flint" (Sheila Bromley), a self-assured dame who isn't afraid of Kelly and denies his accusations. But this isn't a mystery plot, and it's pretty clear she was in cahoots on the gas attack, because we next see her in a Chinese restaurant meeting with some suspicious "Orientals" (the word used in the script). A radio-controlled battleship is then blown up at sea by the aerial bomb, which resembles a Van de Graaff generator, a metal sphere emitting spidery electric currents like lightning in all directions, which is different than a Van der Graaf Generator.
Soon after this, people start getting hyp! no-tyezd! by a pair of mysterious hands. Kelly's Secret Service colleague of is killed. Lefty Hogan's manager tries hyp! no-tyezing! him so he'll become a pianist, which gives Fuzzy Knight (a talented vaudevillian) a chance to play and sing. This movie reminded me of last year's excursions into the Kitchen Sink approach of Poverty Row, and studios like Katzman's Victory Pictures, which always gave you some comedy and music along with your cowboys or G-men. Two Big Thumbs Up for "Kelly of the Secret Service". The picture is razor sharp. ////
The previous night's movie was "St. Benny the Dip"(1951), a quasi-religious comedy with a premise like "We're No Angels." As it opens, three New York City flimflam men are drugging and setting up a blackmail target with a prostitute, when they in turn get set up by the telephone operator they've been using as a go-between. She calls the cops, who respond instead of the hooker, and our boys, who include "Benny" (Dick Haymes), "Matthew" (Roland Young) and "Monk"(Lionel Stander), are forced to flee. With the cops in pursuit, they hide in a huge, Gothic church, where they sneak into the priest's chambers and, in an inspired moment, steal the clerics' frocks and hats so they can pose as clergymen in the outside world. Their reasoning: who would draw less suspicion than a priest?
Well, the plan works until the actual parish priest and his fussy, Harry Potter-ish assistant go in search of their missing garments, accompanied by an Irish police sergeant. By now, Benny, Matthew and Monk are hiding in the basement of a Midnight Mission that happens to be run by the church. When the actual priest (and his assistant and the cop) go there, they find the gang dressed in their priest clothes. Not suspecting them, because they talk a good game, speaking in biblical parables, they instead ask the men, who they think are fellow priests, if they'd be willing to take over the shelter. The priest says to Benny, "You seem to have such a rapport with the men." Homeless guys are sleeping all over the place. They awaken and agree that they'd love to see the boys lead their flock.
By now, their scheme to dress as priests seems to have backfired, precisely because they're so believable. Now, everyone wants them to be priests, and they can't say no without drawing suspicion, so they're forced to do the one thing they didn't wanna do - go legit. And they're not only legit but doing the selfless work of God. Each one is tempted: Benny by "Linda Kovacs" (Nina Foch), a beautiful church benefactor he meets at the homeless shelter. Matthew, the eldest and most believable of the "priests" is put in charge of the donation funds, which are substantial. His temptation is not to steal the money.
Monk's temptation is the reverse; can he go straight and earn a living? He has no future as a fake priest, he's too much of a mook - all "youse guys" and "dis and dat". Monk actually goes back to his sister's tenement apartment and contemplates a return to cab driving. Meanwhile, the real priest, his Harry Potter assistant and the faithful Irish cop are still on the trail of the frock thieves while our boys are running the shelter and hoping for a way out of their predicament. At first, they vow to stick together and continue the criminal life, but their temptations are pulling them apart. Meanwhile, Christian aphorisms are uttered as allegories for the bind they are in.
I loved this movie and you might also. Two Bigs. Dick Haymes sings a song, and boy what a voice. The picture is razor sharp. ////
Now then, we have another detailed issue to raise, concerning September 1989, which is the spread of information, specifically the dissemination of the news that something out of the ordinary had occurred at Terry's apartment on the night of September 1st. We've discussed the initial phone calls that were made, to paramedics and Lillian's sister Ann, and to Lys V., though we don't know if she was contacted by Lillian or Ann. But others were also called, either initially or by secondary callers. Among the others who were called were Dave Small, and of course the madman Howard Schaller. We have surmised that Howard was called by the Security Thug, because he would've known we were headed to Northridge Hospital, where Howard later attacked Lillian. We further point to the Security Thug as the person who called Howard Schaller, because - and this is important - Howard was very specifically angry at Lillian, not me.
Now, the Security Thug, when he was summoned to Terry's apartment by the Concord Square manager, at first blamed me for the ruckus in the courtyard. As noted, he handcuffed me and held a knife to my stomach, but then he gave me a chance to explain myself, and when I did, he went back inside Terry's apartment and excoriated Terry and Lillian, telling them (and this is almost verbatim): "What do you expect when you (do that) in front of him?" In other words, "how do you expect him to react?" Thus, in the eyes of the Security Thug, blame was now shifted from me to Terry and Lillian. He thought they were at fault for the commotion, and would've reported as such to Howard Schaller, who was obviously lying in wait for us at the hospital. He saw Lillian drive up with Terry in Terry's Mom's car, and attacked us when Lillian got into our car. Then he attacked her when she got out of our car to face him.
But in this way, using deduction, we can reasonably assume that Howard was contacted by the Security Thug, who blamed Terry and Lillian for the trouble at Concord Square. Thus Howard, so informed, also blamed Lillian (he wouldn't have known Terry, who wasn't in our car in any case).
But there's another person whom we haven't yet discussed, who - in order for him to know about the trouble at Concord Square - would've had to have been contacted by someone already in the know, because this person - like Howard Schaller - was not on scene when the trouble happened, and would not have immediately known what happened at the building on the night of Sept. 1st.
That person is Jared Rappaport, the man who kidnapped me.
Jared Rappaport kidnapped me, at gunpoint, on - all available evidence indicates - the night of Sept. 2nd, a Saturday, the second night of the Event. Strange though it may seem, though we've given much investigative thought to the questions surrounding Howard Schaller's contacts and participation, we've never really considered the fact that Jared Rappaport, in order for him to learn the news of Concord Square, had to have been told by someone who already knew what happened there. As noted, he wasn't on scene, so, like Howard, someone had to call him with the news.
Now then, the news would've been important to Jared Rappaport, because he had a big party scheduled for that weekend, which was the three-day Labor Day holiday. His party, in fact, was likely to begin on the very Saturday night he kidnapped me. Corroborating this is the fact that, on Sept. 1st, before I was stun-gunned inside Terry's apartment, Terry had a knock on his door from a friend of his named Scott E., whose nickname was "The Pimpster." The Pimpster knocked on Terry's door that night, unaware that trouble was brewing in the apartment. He may have just "shown up" to hang out with his pal Terry, or he may have wanted to smoke some pot, and his reason for arriving isn't important. However, before Terry shooed him away (due to the brewing trouble), I very clearly heard The Pimpster say, "Is the orgy tonight?" He may have phrased it differently: "Is tonight the orgy?" Meaning, "Oh, that's why you're shooing me out." Terry didn't respond to his question, and at the time, I didn't know what it meant. But I clearly heard him say it, and I've never forgotten it. And that question ("Is tonight the orgy?"), combined with the fact that Jared Rappaport had a sex party (an orgy or porno-movie shoot) planned for Labor Day weekend, suggests that it was the "orgy" The Pimpster was referring to. Terry had likely bragged to him about it.
Jared Rappaport's planned "party" over Labor Day weekend is thus established. He was no doubt very excited about it, was anticipating it, and then all of a sudden, it wasn't going to happen. It got called off. Now, I am guessing that Jared Rappaport didn't call it off, but some of his main participants were now not going to be available, and why? Because, according to him when he kidnapped me, I had fucked things up by causing a shitstorm at Concord Square. And now Lillian was not going to be able to attend his party, and without her there, none of the other goons, like David Birke, Terry, and others, were going to be there, either.
The cancellation of his party so infuriated Jared Rappaport that he was willing to risk his whole life, his career, and his family by kidnapping me (which is a whole 'nuther issue, that he would risk these things, and prison also), but what is important here, is that his party was not going to happen, and in his case, he blamed me, not Lillian. Which means he got the story from someone who either blamed me, or told the story in such a way that the emphasis was placed on my actions at Concord Square (even though I was the victim who was stun-gunned and nearly died that night).
For us, in tonight's blog, the question becomes, using deduction similar to that used on Howard Schaller: Who contacted Jared Rappaport to inform him that his party was not going to happen? Who called him to inform him about Concord Square?
It's amazing that we've never given this question much thought, but we'll do it now. Firstly, I don't believe that Jared Rappaport had any dealings at Concord Square. In other words, he obviously wasn't part of Terry's "hangout crowd", didn't know Terry (other than at possible previous "parties"), and really didn't know Lillian all that well (except at possible previous "parties"). She was introduced to "the scene" through Marshal Lester, not Rappaport. Lillian, I am guessing, introduced Terry. But neither of them would've been in a hurry, even if they did know him well, to contact Jared Rappaport, on a night when I almost died in Terry's apartment. They had bigger things to worry about at that point than his stupid party. And Rappaport would likely not have known Howard Schaller, or anyone connected secondarily to Concord Square. The only people he would've known, from our circle, was Lillian, Terry, and.......the ubiquitous David Birke. He also very likely knew the Smalls (see previous evidence on Pat Small).
Now, even if Pat Small was a "client" of his neighborhood "services", I doubt she was a participant at any of his parties, for the simple reason that she was 61 years old, and would've kept what she was doing to herself. She wouldn't have attended swinger parties. For that, Jared Rappaport and Marshal Lester recruited young people, and, with our circle of friends, Rappaport began by inviting David Birke, whom he met when David was shooting his student movie at 9032 on Memorial Day weekend 1989, three months earlier. In short, even if Pat Small, a likely Rappaport "client", heard about what happened at Concord Square, likely from her stepson Dave Small, she wouldn't have been in a big hurry to contact Jared Rappaport because she wasn't a participant in his parties. Also, if anything, she'd have wanted to keep her name out of the whole doggone thing. Therefore, through the process of elimination, David Birke becomes the person most likely to have contacted Jared Rappaport, to say, "I'm sorry but I can't come to your party this weekend, and in fact nobody's probably coming, because something happened last night at Terry's apartment building."
Just as possible is that Rappaport called David Birke, to remind him of the party, or to make sure all arrangements were in order: "Don't forget the chips n' dip." Either way, whoever called who, David would've given him the news that there was a blowup at Concord Square and now, nobody was coming. And that would've (and did) piss Jared Rappaport off mightily, and he took it out on me, because whoever told him the news put the emphasis on me as the cause of the trouble.
Remember, Howard Schaller took out his anger on Lillian, because he got the news - first hand - from the Security Thug, who was there when the trouble started. The Thug blamed Lillian and Terry, ergo Howard blamed them, and specifically Lilly (and she might've owed him money, also.)
But Jared Rappaport blamed me, and he likely got the news second hand, from David Birke, who wasn't there, and David Birke had to have gotten the news also, because he also wasn't there, so the question now becomes, "who told David Birke?" How did the news ripple outward from Concord Square, in the 24 hours between when I was stun-gunned and the next night when I was kidnapped by Jared Rappaport? Someone had to call David Birke, who broke the news to Rappaport (regardless of who called who, in that case). The ripple effect begins with someone who had direct knowledge (someone on scene), who called either David Birke to inform him, or called someone else.
Again, as I barely escaped death that night, I don't think the first thing on Lillian's or Terry's mind was to start calling people to say they were gonna have to miss "the orgy." They had much bigger worries. But, because I was in bad shape, someone might've thought it prudent to contact my family. Terry, or Lillian or Ann, wouldn't have been able to get hold of my Dad. He'd moved to a HUD apartment earlier that year. No one would've known his number. But both Lillian and Terry knew, obviously, the number to my house. My Mom was likely not home, and even if she was home, and got the news about me, she'd have had little reason to call David Birke.
My guess is that Terry or his Mom, but likely Terry, called my house, and someone answered. Terry reported what had happened (and you can bet he was scared shitless because he'd just seen me non-responsive on his floor), and you can bet he put the blame on me, to avoid responsibility, as he was the one who stun gunned me. So, he called my house to report what happened, pinned the blame (or at least put the emphasis) on me, and then the person who took Terry's call, called David Birke to report the news to him, again with the "blame emphasis" on me. "Did you hear what happened to Adam at Terry's apartment? It all started when.....".
And after that, likely sometime the next day, Saturday Sept. 2, David Birke either called Jared Rappaport to tell him what had happened, and that the "party" was off as a result, or Rappaport called Birke to remind him to bring the chips n' dip, and he heard the news that way.
Either way, it infuriated Rappaport to the point where he was willing to risk his whole life to kidnap, imprison, and torture me, which he proceeded to do.
And again, it developed through a chain of phone calls, beginning at the source point (Concord Square), likely from Terry calling my house to report what happened. Whoever took that call from Terry later called David Birke, and David Birke very, very likely broke the news to my kidnapper Jared Rappaport. It's very doubtful it was Dave or Pat Small, the only other people who would've had the news that early.
Other evidence directly implicating David Birke as the person who broke the news to Jared Rappaport, is the fact that David Birke was inside Jared Rappaport's house on Sunday September 3rd, while I was still in Rappaport's captivity.
To repeat: While I was still in Jared Rappaport's captivity, David Birke was in his house.
And that's all I know for tonight. Please know that I report these findings only in my search for truth. I'm not out to get anyone. The Circle of Friends from the old days are not my enemies, and I know they wouldn't have wanted me to get kidnapped by a psychopath. But I did get kidnapped (among many other things), and I almost died at least twice. When a paramedic examined me in the aftermath of the Rappaport incident, my heart rate was over 200 beats per minute. I was in a state of shock. So it's no joke. I was kidnapped and tortured, and it's never been acknowledged, and it happened because I inadvertently fucked up a nutjob's sex party. It's too bad that some of the friends got involved in that kind of depraved stupidity, and I'm sure if they could do it over again, they wouldn't do it. But at the time, they did do it, and I'm the guy who paid the price. I've been living with it for almost 34 years.
So please keep that in mind, because there's going to be a resolution to all of this. One day, there's going to be a resolution. And I have to work toward that resolution, because if I don't, I'm disrespecting my own life and throwing what happened to me (and to others) into the proverbial trash can, and if I do that, if I too ignore what happened, I'm disrespecting God, who created me. And so, I won't pretend it didn't happen like everyone else does. I just can't do that. I need the truth, and as long as we keep examining and questioning, we'll get closer to the full truth of what happened.
So that's all for tonight. My blogging music is the new Metallica album, "72 Seasons", which is really good, my late night is Handel's Tamerlano Opera. I hope your week is off to a good start and I send you Tons of Love, as always. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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