"... fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives ...
"So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked.
"But if you see what I see,
if you feel as I feel,
and if you would seek as I seek,
then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight ..."
                —V, V For Vendetta

[This is Part Two of a three-part series. If you haven't done so, you may want to read Part One first.]

So we are talking about the killing of President John F. Kennedy, the fact that his killers were never brought to justice, and the feeling that we are now, as a country, living in Bizarro-world, where everything is the opposite of what it is supposed to be.

We left off in Part One with my ex-gangster friend replying,"Are you having a nice night, kid?" when I asked him who his associates in the mafia thought had killed JFK.

I smiled, but was silent, totally focussed on him and whatever he might say next.

 And he said, finally, looking at me levelly,"I could tell you a story. I don't like to talk about it that much. I knew at least fifty people who were involved who have been killed ..."

(further conversation on the flip-flop)

Mr. James Brown, the Godfather of Soul

(Video of "It's a Man's World" clip on the flipflop)

 
When I was just a sprout at Willard Junior High School on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, I often found myself cooling my heels in the dean's office, usually for trying, selflessly, to enliven an otherwise dreadfully boring class with a humorous quip or two, perhaps a series of them.

More often than not, it would be me and a couple of black guys who were also, in the language of today, most likely trying to keep it real, as only thirteen-year-olds can, within the oppressive confines of the conditioning system known as the Berkeley public school system.

And there we would sit together in the outer office, cooling our heels, waiting for the dean of boys, who knew us all on a first-name basis, to call us into his private domain.

Invariably, we would get in an argument about who was better, James Brown or The Beatles. 

I remember one time in particular. It was me and four guys.

They challenged me:

--Who's got more number one hits?

Me [mind you, I had no facts to back my claims up.]:

--The Beatles

Them:

--Who's made more money?

Me:

--The Beatles 

Them:

--Who's sold more albums?

Me:

--The Beatles

:::::::::::: [long pause wherein they all sort of gazed at the floor] :::::::::::

And then one guy looked me right in the eye and said:

"Well, who's got more SOUL??"  

December 16—Happy Birthday My Dear Ludwig van Beethoven.

I do not have anything to say about Beethoven, the man who freed music, that has not already been said.

I was introduced to Beethoven in my early twenties by two newspapermen, Ed Frisbie and Fran Ortiz, both of whom worked at the SF Examiner where I was a copyboy. We would sit around the M&M Tavern at 5th & Howard and talk about the late quartets, the Grosse Fugue ... and I would try to soak it up and I'd go buy pieces they recommended ... and I'd listen to them when I tired of Bowie, Roxy Music, and Captain Beefheart.

I am forever grateful to the two of them.

Fran was a great news photographer whose works - four pieces as a matter of fact - were chosen by the New York Museum of Modern Art for their retrospective of twentienth century photojournalistic excellence. He was a gentleman, a kind man, a great cook, and quite the ladies man: he gave me a lamb recipe for the first time I had a woman over for a serious dinner date. It worked. 

But this is not really a story about Fran, or Beethoven, but about Ed Frisbee, one of the most serious drinkers and most entertaining story-tellers I knew in my early life. It was another era. I had a lot to learn about booze.

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