Hi folks. This is gonna be another blunt crime report, so be prepared. I wish there were cheerier things to write about, but "the hits just keep on comin'" (as they say), and I am so shocked and disgusted with what I'm learning about what I'll carefully call The Pearl Situation, that it's a wonder I haven't become physically ill. If a color could depict my feelings about this, it would be the reddest Blood Red you could imagine.
I will soon be 66. Not ancient, but I have now lived half those years under the secretive yoke of scumbag drug and pornography people - CULT PEOPLE - who have taken advantage of my naivety about their world and the history my life.
My health is not good. I'm living with a hernia the size of a grapefruit.
I am basically alone in the world, and my only concern is getting the truth into the open. To do this, I write.
I'm thinking a lot about John Mallis lately. We knew him as "Shecky", but that name's too cutesy for a guy I mistakenly thought was a friend, and who I've recently learned was a hard-core drug criminal who used me for ten years and then walked away. So let's call him John instead of Shecky. The first time I met him, he was sitting in a director's chair on the small lawn adjacent to Dennis's studio in back of The Reading Center on Devonshire and Woodley. This was in late June 1983. The director's chair was probably supplied by Dennis, who had worked on movie sets. John Mallis was sitting there shirtless, tanning his already bronze skin. He had on a pair of aviator shades, and had his practice pad in his lap, and his drumsticks. John is a drummer, and a good one.
Lillian may have dropped me off at the studio that day. It was either her or Dave Small. Dave and me were in need of a drummer at the time. Dennis was on the outs after the Zilch robbery in February 1982 (though ironically we were still using his studio) and when this John guy mentioned that he played drums, and had a kit inside the studio, that was good news for us. We may have jammed that very first day.
Now I will reveal something I've regretted for over four decades. Lilly and I had planned to go to Knotts Berry Farm on July 1, 1983, for the grand opening of Camp Snoopy. She loved Snoopy; I was a Peanuts fan since childhood. Our date was set: Knotts and Camp Snoopy on July 1, opening day.
But then I met this drummer named John at Dennis's studio. Thinking back, it was like he was posed there, on that tiny scrap of lawn, in that director's chair, and I am willing to bet that he knew Dennis before he put his drums in that studio. Their whole setup was a scam that, at age 23, I failed to recognize. And when he offered to jam, I eagerly accepted. And this is what I've regretted all these years:
I told Lilly I couldn't go to Camp Snoopy, as we had planned, because I had "just met this drummer." She was understandibly disappointed, and I felt bad but stuck to my decision to jam, and ever since then, I've wanted to go back in a time machine and kick my own ass because Lilly had her heart set on going to Knotts and Camp Snoopy on opening day, and I had agreed to that, and I cancelled our plan on a whim. I still feel horrible about it.
We did end up going, a couple days later, maybe even on July 4, one of our two anniversaries. And we had fun. I have a strip of photo booth pictures that depict this. We also got our potrait drawn by a caricaturist, with me as a surfer, Lilly as a beach bunny. I have that, too.
But I made her cry by cancelling opening day, and I am going to go back in a time machine and and punch myself in the nose for doing that, especially because I did it in favor of John Mallis, a criminal drug dealer who wasted ten years of my life, and who worked behind my back with other lowlifes to set me up and destroy my relationship with Lilly.
I now believe that John Mallis knew Dennis before he "moved in" to The Reading Center (which was also a drug drop). In the early 1990s, John Mallis used a "scanning" device on me to get me into his car for ride-alongs on his drug deliveries. He had been a pot grower for many years (in his backyard) and was now trying to move into cocaine. He needed me along for some kind of cult credibility. My presense would make him a "made man". He had a bad temper, and his mask came off on these drug runs when I told him under hypnosis (or scanning) to let me out of the car. That's when I found out he wasn't my friend and never had been. Like Dennis, he was only ever a criminal drug dealer.
And he has somehow turned up, again through Dennis, in connection to Pearl and Helen.
In July 1989, Helen took me to her mom Pearl's house, to get me away from the insane, violent situation at my house: the legendary 9032 Rathburn Avenue. But the bad guys found out I was there, at Pearl's house, and they came and a confrontation ensued. The main bad guy was a close relative of mine. Another was one of his associates, whose name I won't mention because he is a very dangerous and well-connected Northridge individual. And another of the people who showed up at Pearl's house, to threaten Helen and me on that day in July 1989, was John Mallis.
Yep, all the way back in 1989. Can you believe the bad guys were involved with Pearl and Helen back then? Or that they even knew where Pearl lived? It makes me sick.
This was at a time when I was not in any band. John Mallis had kicked me out of the band I founded, and out of his Winnetka garage, where we rehearsed, in the late Summer of 1987, ostensibly for wearing nail polish and listening to black metal. On a very important side note, Dave Small and his then-girlfriend Kelly Wilson (who later married Terry Meissner) lived at John's house in 1987 and part of '88, and they moved into the legendary Burton Street house in Reseda in September/October 1988. This will become crucial in our investigation.
Returning to John Mallis: he was a chronic pot smoker, but much more than that -
When he moved to Archwood Street in Winnetka in 1987, he immediately started growing high grade marijuana in his backyard. Rows of it, like a cornfield. He grew impressive plants, high grade pot, and he did this within a mile of the West Valley LAPD station.
His plants were pungent. You could smell them from the street. I was still rehearsing with him and Dave at the time, and was concerned about this pot smell, but John assured me there was nothing to worry about because, as he put it, he was now an acknowledged "gardener". Though he never said so, the inference was that he paid a hefty sum (ten thousand dollars, a lot in 1987 money) to become such.
One question: to whom might he have paid that money to?
Let us switch gears now, to talk about the Meissner House on White Oak Avenue just south of Nordhoff. The Meissner house was inhabited by that evil family, the Meissners, and after Elmer Meissner died in 2002, his wife Jean moved to Arizona. She died in November 2005. The house has not been inhabited since she moved.
Folks, we are talking a seven figure, million dollar property in the heart of "Sherwood Forest" Northridge. Who in their right minds, possessing such a property, would not sell it or rent it...I mean, who the F are you kidding?
The Meissner House has been blacked out for almost one quarter of a century.
The reason it has remained empty is that the Meissners - Jean, Elmer and their POS son Terry - were supremely evil people who would make Charles Manson blush. Jeffery Epstein was an amateur in comparison.
But the thing about the Meissners, is that their behavior was accepted or looked the other way at, right in the middle of their suburban street, which is not separated by long driveways and giant hedges and acreage like the estates of the Los Angeles Elite, who can hide in their surroundings.
Astoundingly, the Meissners did their swinging thing just yards from their neighbors' house, and just feet from the street.
The Meissners held swinger parties in their backyard in which people fucked each other in their pool, in front of an audience of Elmer and Jean, Terry's parents. I was there, at one party in 1988, so I know.
I was also victimised in 1982 and 1983 at the Meissner House (so was Lilly)...and I know the truly evil things about this horrific family. You can ask Sandra Mussey. She knows.
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