Vol. I, Clip 3: The Vampyres Of New York

December 28, 2015

 

 

Book I, Clip 3

The Vampyres Of New York

A Novel

by

R.E. Prindle

 

If you haven’t experienced that kind of mental agony you don’t know. I tossed and turned all afternoon and into the night. My brain was racked but not with pain. It was like all the connections had come loose and I had no control of my mental processes. There was no way to concentrate, to organize my thoughts to possibly think or be rational. It was like three fevers without temperature racking around in my brain.

I was exhausted and then possibly at one in the morning I heard a knocking. I sat up in bed wondering who in the world it could be. Then I heard Gaines again: Hello, I’m back. Let’s talk.

Well, Gaines! Of course I knew what was happening then. I was at that level of experience and conditioning between the birth process and more conscious experience. I had already cleared out the most compelling of my childhood fixations at forty-two when I integrated my personality. That freed me from compulsions and inhibitions but I gradually learned that there was another layer of control or influence yet beyond my reach. Gaines had now shown up so it was possible to free myself from that psychological layer. Small comfort at eighty but then few if any become so clear. Freud and Jung certainly never attained it. I flattered myself that I could be unique. The first of the New Men. Don’t smile, it was a pleasant thought.

This wasn’t the first incident of interior dialogue my mind had spoken to itself. I heard what they call voices back in my early teens. Of course like St. Augustine I had been convinced that one could talk to God. Unlike Augustine I wasn’t crazy enough to persist when God couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know when I asked.

And then back then I heard voices telling me to do inappropriate things like Kill your mother and Chuckles but I shut them up; I wasn’t to going to jail for any reason. And now, here was Gaines a more or less rational entity who would try to convince me to do evil I was certain. As in primeval days I was attached to the God Principle while Gaines was representing the Satanic Principle.

He seemed to be lodged in the right hemisphere just behind and above that ear. This puzzled me somewhat as I would have thought he would have been part of my Animus or Ego that being the male side of the brain; instead he was on my female side.

Then I realized that when Gaines had taken up a primal position in my consciousness I was sitting on the back steps of the Orphanage. When my mother had put me in the Orphanage and had walked away she had created this space in my mind, this psychological layer. Gaines and his evil comic books was therefore associated with my mother. Oh yes, my mother. Sometimes I wish I had heeded those early voices and offed both her and Chuckles. Chuckles, that mean assed bastard, was her second husband. They married when I was ten and I then came out of the Orphanage.

Well, you know, as I always told myself, you have to play the hand you’re dealt. I think I can say without comment that I played that lousy hand well. Here I was in New York City, the capital of the world, in a thirty million dollar apartment. Gaines wasn’t going to be a problem, after all, he was me and I was him. I had the upper hand with the God Principle on my side while Gaines might as well have been Abe Goldbladder of the Satanic Principle. I will discuss that more in my presentation to the New Serapion Brethren.

I was inside my skull with Gaines but my mind had cleared up, I might as well get started.

‘So, Gaines, what brings you here?’ A silly question because I already knew the answer. Still, in order to extinguish him I had to play along. However I did think it necessary to call in my old psycho-analyst Dr. Anton Polarion as an assist.

Who is Dr. Anton? I’m embarrassed to say this because then you might think I really am crazy. But that’s alright, I may be.

Dr. Anton Polarion came around several years ago when I was deep in my psychological studies. I was working a number of fields of study and I needed someone to handle the psychology for me when I was working another field. It was then I thought up Dr. Anton giving him the responsibility for memorizing and developing psychology.

I know it sounds kind of crazy but it’s not. Dr. Anton was and is a memory aide. If you read up on the art of memory you will learn that in Greek and Roman times people constructed memory palaces of many rooms extensively furnished and then assigned memories to various rooms and objects in order to more conveniently record them, prodigious feats of memory are recorded. Oh alright, but I wasn’t going to wander around a Memory Palace trying to find various rooms and objects with their assigned memories so I just handed the job to an imagined Dr. Anton rather than a Memory Palace. You can understand that can’t you? Seems reasonable enough to me but you never know what other people will think. Anyway Dr. Anton knows whereof he speaks. So when it comes to hearing voices it was now two to one against Gaines and I had another Ace or two up my sleeve.

I was loaded for bear and I was sure I could kick Gaines’ ass. Still, I had to hear Gaines out.

‘So Gaines, as I said, what brings you here?’

‘I’ve got some good advice for you,’ said Gaines.

‘Knowing who you are Gaines I doubt it could be good.’

‘Oh ho, you think you know who I am do you? Who am I?’

‘This will take some time Gaines but you’ve got as much as I do. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Your showing up here, now, puts things in place.   I’m going to call in Dr. Anton for support. You know who he is don’t you Gaines?’

‘Of course, of course. I know as well as you know me. Hello Anton, welcome to the conversation.’

Anton: Hello Gaines. Well, let’s get started.

Partly: The key here is the Orphanage and me sitting on the back step reading Tales From The Crypt. That was one sado-masochistic piece Gaines with a certain portrayal of women. Strangely that portrayal was reminiscent of my mother. It is between you and my mother that this psychology revolves around.

Anton: Yes, your mother transferred her hatred of your father to you after she had put him away and tried to destroy any happiness for you. It is no coincidence that after she had your father committed to the asylum she committed you to the Orphanage. Of course, she had ‘good reasons’ for doing so but they weren’t the real reasons. When you turned eighteen she thought she had you again, enlisting you in the Navy and having you shipped off somewhere where she would never have to see you to remind her of her crime against your father. Thus the association of your mother, sado-masochism and Gaines.

Gaines also provides your connection to the Jews although that application came later in life. The content of Gaines’ comics, the sado-masochism, is part of the Jewish Weltanschauung that Freud expressed so well and it is that that Judaicized you, making the Jewish culture part of your own. It is that part, this Satanic consciousness that drags your spirit down causing your chronic low depression. We’ll try to shake it here but it may now be integral to your mentality.

Leaving Gaines for a moment the pre-Gaines component was your mother’s extreme selfishness. Of course your mother was three months gone when she married your father. This didn’t create so much guilt as anger. She held your father responsible preventing her from doing whatever she thought she would be doing later. You were born in 1938 in the depths of the Great Depression.

Jobs were not easy to come by and although your father was a good provider, that is you had a roof over your head and a shack to live in, even so your father ran out of jobs so he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps and went to work planting forests. He was a good man; he sent most of his money to your mother. She unfortunately as you would learn was not a good woman.

It is difficult at this point to retrieve her motivation but she got laid in the back of a Chevrolet in the parking lot of a grocery store as you know well, Perry. She became pregnant with the little bastard palmed off to you as your brother. A child of sin he has always remained so. A point came where the pregnancy could no longer be concealed.

Needless to say the realization made your father angry. In an attempt to learn the culprit he began to punch her out. In the way of women she was stout refusing to give up his name. Your father said things like ‘I am out working CCC to provide for you and you’re out, words that were unintelligible to you. Do you remember that Partly?

Partly: Yes I do.

Anton: Less than two and half and you remember! What a memory Perry. The bastard was born, your father left and you saw him only once more several months later. Do you know what happened to him?

Me: No. Never saw him again after that last time.

Dr. Anton: Your mother had him committed to the insane asylum and he lived there all his life and died there.

Gaines: Wait a minute, wait a minute. You can’t know anything he doesn’t Anton. Where’s this coming from?

Dr. Anton: Just as you have been suppressed until now Gaines so has the knowledge I’m now revealing. It came in bits and pieces and I have put it all together. Partly is just now realizing it.

Where was I? Yes, committing him was a sadistic act on the part of a guilty woman. But it didn’t stop there Partly. To assuage her guilt while indulging her sadism she had removed her husband but you, a reminder of her crime, remained. She transferred her affection to her bastard and set out to torture and frustrate you. You remember the nightmares you had in high school where your mother was constantly betraying you? That was a subconscious recognition of what you wouldn’t allow yourself to acknowledge but still you knew.

The Orphanage was just four blocks from your grandparents house where you were living. She had to know the effect it would have on your mentality, you certainly did, but just as she had put her husband away in an asylum she put his memory away in another institution, the Orphanage.

Do you remember this Partly?

Me: Sure Anton, I remember but not as clearly and well organized as you do.

Dr. Anton: You’d be a better man for learning it although at eighty who gives a shit. You’ll take it to your grave soon enough.

Me: That’s alright Anton, I’ll die, as you say, a better man.

Anton: So your mother dropped you off and you were led away just like in prison or the asylum but with slightly better conditions. And thus you began to become who you used to be before your personality integration that introduced this current phase of your life at forty-two.

You became quite independent in that harrowing situation of the Orphanage. Fate left that copy of Tales From The Crypt lying on that little porch and a pain equal to your being abandoned seared your soul again striking through your subconscious to the structural level here. You were no longer a free man but controlled from, for lack of a better term, your subconscious. I don’t know how you made it through but here you are.

Your mother’s remarriage to the maniac Chuckles who was a match for your mother’s sadism nearly destroyed you during those eight long years until graduation. Enough of that for now. Let’s deal with Gaines here.

Me: Can we get rid of him?

Gaines: Hell no!

Dr. Anton: He is unfortunately part of the warp and woof of your personality but I’m pretty certain we can modify it and reduce his Satanic level considerably.

Gaines: Over my dead body.

Dr. Anton: Preferably Gaines, that is what we’re shooting for.

With that I collapsed back into my pillow exhausted but calmer with less of a feverish feeling. I was breathing somewhat heavily. I knew that this was a significant psychological event that had not yet achieved resolution and I was afraid to lose the thread. After about an hour Dr. Polarion returned. Anton was not an alter ego as Gaines but functioned more as a guardian angel, a good spirit so I welcomed him.

‘We’ve got to handle Gaines Partly.’

‘Yes. What is your suggestion Anton?’

‘This. It seems that Gaines is functioning as a node for a constellation of similar events. The two obvious strands of the constellation are he, that is your Jewish experience, and your mother. The first step must be to disentangle your mother and put her into her own constellation to be dealt with later. You already have a decent handle on her.

That leaves Gaines and your Jewish experience which is a distinct constellation which when knowledgeable about it you’ve done a lot a preparatory groundwork but certain resolutions are still necessary. That constellation has to be distended into its planetary elements so that each can be identified and dispensed with.

In addition there may be other elements concealed within or behind the constellation of which we have yet no knowledge. Time will tell.

And then there is what Gaines wants you to do which is why he’s made his appearance now. We’ll have to listen and go from there. You and I do understand that what he wants is going to be ridiculous and dangerous.

Me: OK Anton, your analysis is good and I do have a good idea what Gaines wants; I’ve also got my arguments ready and can direct him. But, God, this is painful.

Anton: Yes Partly, self-realization can be trying and I’m sure you’re in agony. You remember Hubert Selby the fellow who wrote his novel Last Exit To Brooklyn?

Me: Oh sure, Anton. Very interesting story. He was probing his mind to write his story. That once when he came up against a particularly painful remembrance it shattered him so that he had to take to his bed for a week writhing in agony. I can’t afford the time for that now. I have things to do and fields to plow.

Anton: You may have more than you think Partly. Get some rest and I’ll get Gaines back here in an hour or so. Control your feelings.

With images of Jekyll and Hyde in my fitful dreams was the titanic struggle of the Shadow with evil and the images of Superman and Clark Kent. Good must triumph over evil although it might not be as clear cut a victory as one might hope.

Just before dawn Dr. Polarion returned and shortly thereafter I heard Gaines’ Hello, I’m here.

Me: Alright Gaines. I’m ready.

Anton had already disentangled my mother from the constellational complex so he and I were dealing with just the Gaines/Jewish constellation. In that obscured constellation other traumas wouldn’t be clear at this time.

‘What’s up Gaines?’ Anton asked quietly with an implied menace that he wasn’t going to listen to nonsense.

Gaines: Why so hostile Doctor Polarion.

Anton: We know what you’re up to Gaines. I have to tell you that we know who you are and where you’ve come from so your Satanic power is negated.

Gaines: Oh, aren’t we clever. What is my pedigree Dr. Polarion?

Anton: Simply this: You infected Partly’s mind on that stoop of the Orphanage with your sado-masochistic claptrap. Partly only semi-consciously took in the sado-masochistic sexuality without knowledge of sex, he had to repress your Satanic influence and with some few exceptions he did. As he knew nothing of Jews and your own Jewishness that puzzling aspect of your Satanity was filed away for future reference. In the meantime following Jewish propaganda he was conditioned to revere Jews and did so.

Then in winter of nineteen fifty-eight in a fit of sado-masochistic lunacy the Jews pre-empted all TV channels at the same time on Saturday prime time and broadcast the most incredible pornographic sado-masochistic program imaginable. An hour of graphic snuff films depicting naked dead bodies being pushed about by bulldozers. The sexual implications were horrendous. While secretly fascinated Partly was resentful of the Jews for pushing this atrocity on him. Without articulating it to himself he was fatally disgusted. Also without noticing it he associated the ‘entertainment’ with you Gaines.

Gaines: I’m disgusting?

Anton: Eminently. Now, there comes an incident that was let slip by almost without recognition. Partly’s wife, now deceased, came from a Jewish background on her mother’s side; the father was nominally Catholic. The mother wanted a Jewish wedding while fearing that Partly would object. The venue was unimportant to Partly, in fact, with his Jewish conditioning he got a little thrill from it.

However to the Jews the notion that a Jewish girl would marry a, what they considered Christian boy, was anathema to them. Her parents approached all the synagogues in the East Bay but there was only one Rabbi in the East Bay that would consent to marry the couple. This was brought about by the intervention of his wife’s mother’s sister whose family was a prominent supporter of the synagogue. Even so the rabbi insisted on an interview with Partly.

As I say, Gaines, Partly had no religious scruples to marrying into a religious family, not quite true, he would never have married Catholic, and thought to be amiable with the rabbi. Both Partly and his wife were above religion despising them as relics from a primitive age. While Partly tried to be amiable the rabbi didn’t. Partly talked to the rabbi man to man while the rabbi as all rabbis do exalted his position believing as a Talmudic scholar that that worthless information placed him not only above Partly or his fellow Jews but all humanity and most of the angels. Resenting Partly’s familiarity he insulted Partly grievously as not worthy of a Jewish girl while being a Christian dog or words to that effect. At that point his respect for the Jews, intense conditioning or no, vanished.

This event was constellated with you Gaines and the TV atrocity to negate any positive feeling he had for the Jews. A couple decades of propaganda was wiped out in an instant. Partly’s future unpleasant relations with Jews will appear subsequently.

So that’s who you are Gaines. Satan on a stick.

Gaines: Yeah, well Dr. Polarion I know where Partly lives. I know he has suffered insults, injuries and indignities from many quarters including the ones you mentioned and I know this: He wants revenge. Who do you go to when you want revenge? Satan, baby, Satan. And here I am.

Anton: True, Partly?

Me: No. It’s true I have a lot of resentments but they’re from assholes and assholes can’t help being assholes; if they could they wouldn’t be assholes so one has to ignore them. It’s their cross to bear and I enjoy watching them be assholes. If Gaines thinks he’s going to lure me into criminal activity he’s not here.

Gaines: Kiss my ass Partly. Social unrest is developing rapidly, exponentially day to day. There are hundreds of racial and religious, what the authorities are pleased to call murders rather than the acts of war they are happening every week.

I know Partly that you were trained by your experiences to be a serial killer. You know it. I don’t know how you’ve resisted up to this time but now is the time to indulge those resentments. Not only are the cops overburdened trying to deal with all the killing and raping going on but they’re afraid to leave the station. Whole cities are no go zones for them. They’ll never identify you, never track you down. Come on buddy, let your inner Mr. Hyde see some light. Now’s the time for your revenge.

Me: I think you’re right about the time being the right time Gaines but remember that Vengeance is mine saith the Lord. I’ve learned that it is true.

Gaines: Vengeance is mine saith the Lord? Listen to this guy. Are you putting me on Partly?

Me: Certainly not Gaines, certainly not. Remember you were kicked out of heaven for the religious offence of chutzpah. God stuck his boot up your ass and down you came. You always tempt men to their destruction by exploiting their own weaknesses. If I were to act in revenge I would surely be caught. Even at eighty I don’t want to be thought of as a criminal.

Gaines: No, you don’t want to be thought of as a criminal. Here’s a tip for you Partly…

Anton: I…

Gaines: You stay out of this Anton, this is between Partly and me.

As above, so below, right Partly? God’s will is supposed to prevail on earth as in heaven, right?

Me: I’m not religious but the Bible does say so. What’s your point?

Gaines: As a lawbreaker I was kicked out of heaven, right. If so, then it is God’s will that I be persecuted on earth also, isn’t it?

Me: Well, you have to believe the Bible.

Gaines: No, you don’t. Freud replaced the Bible but as a Jew he follows the Bible’s rhetoric. Freud and I are one and not only am I part of your mind but Freud is too. That’s one of my attributes that Anton the so-called psychologist forgot to mention. So, if it is God’s will that it is to be on earth as it is in heaven then it is permissible to punish Satanic practices as he punished me isn’t it? As a God fearing person it is imperative that you do so.

Well, there was a thought. The Jews consider themselves God’s viceroys on Earth and that they are doing God’s will by forcing his, or theirs really on the rest of mankind, punishing those who resist, that is anti-Semites. It was a tough argument to counter while Gaines had cleverly appealed to my suppressed desires. Anton was no help at this point.

Me: To punish is vengeance Gaines and as I say Vengeance is the Lord’s. Therefore I cannot punish Gaines, however there is the question of justice, lawbreakers should not be allowed the fruit of their crimes with impunity.

As we know God has no temporal means to effect his will on earth so he must use intermediaries as his chosen vessels hence the Jews claim to be that vessel. However if God spoke to the Jews then he can speak to me. Thus if like Saint Augustine I were to hear his voice enjoining me to administer His justice on earth as he does in heaven, that is kicking Satan off the earth then I could obey his will and be judge, jury and executioner here on earth as the Jews consider themselves. Well, Gaines, that is a thought I will have to give consideration.

Gaines: Yes it is. Further…

Anton: Hold, hold it, stop Gaines. Be gone. Hold up Partly, we have to think about this. Later Gaines, later. Go.

And with a sly wink at me Gaines wandered away. He would be back, of course. But he had given me something to think about. I knew I was going to think about it too and as Gaines knew I would rationalize his suggestion into reality but only in a ‘legal’ manner.

Anton just looked at me and shook his head. He knew what was coming. So did I but neither of us could as yet admit it.

-IV-

 

Once again I lay back exhausted. Still I had to get to work. In an agitated state of mind I reviewed the correcting of my piece for the New Serapion Brethren that I was titling The Vampyres Of New York. I had put some preliminary thoughts up on the internet so I was searching Vampyres Of New York when I was startled to find that there was an actual group called The Vampyres Of New York that claimed to be a worldwide organization. Its spokesman was some guy calling himself Father Sebastian. He was a young guy who would have been further ahead claiming to be Brother Sebastian; in another thirty years he might pass for a father.

Anything associating itself with vampirism had to be Satanic while the guy was absolutely touting himself as a religion. The crude Satanism of the nineteen sixties was obviously morphing into an attempt at a universal religion. This was a far cry from the historian Arnold Toynbee’s cry for a new universal religion to replace Christianity. Gaines was obviously right about the Satanism in Freud being a part of me but apparently the drive was to make Freudianism the basis of a new religion. Thus as Christianity as a Jewish based religion had represented the Godly Principle so Freud as a Jewish based religion would represent the Satanic Principle.

This was a revelation to me that while new I would have to try to work into my essay. I had to think about it a little so while I was thinking I tinkered around working out disguises. Having seen street activity for a couple weeks now I was uneasy walking around in my own skin; I didn’t want to become that well known.

So, as I thought I tried out mustaches, wigs, glasses, different outfits, so I could walk the streets so as not to become obvious. But, time was passing and I was driven back to my writing desk. I wanted to avoid Gaines as long as possible so I put in some long sessions hoping I would be so tired when I went to sleep that that bastard Gaines wouldn’t be called up. I was successful for the week left before going to Farquhar’s.

I was a day ahead of the deadline so I went out to get a couple two or three bottles of wine to take along. Wanted to show I was a regular guy. I am a regular guy but usually not that regular. Boy, NYC is an alkie’s paradise. What a fabulous selection of spirits. I don’t drink much but in my earlier days I could do a limited justice to the bottle. In those days I favored brandy. Really good stuff if you’re going to drink. Oh lord, if I had known then what New York showed my now I might have been the man who never returned.

I wasn’t after liquor though I wanted wine so I asked for and got bottles of Ramey’s Claret. Ramey is a good Napa Valley vintner while his claret is moderately priced and more than good enough, excellent in fact. The vintage was 2014 that particularly dry year and of small berries. Excellent, I thought it should go over. I’d had it before and it really is a great vintage.

For dress I wore a 1960 vintage sport coat I bought at a second hand store. Nothing was ready at James Carter and I had tried Lord and Taylor and other stores but none was showing other than those idiotic short jackets cut small and I thought I looked a heck of a lot better. Charles Tyrwhitt shirt, one of their higher priced dark blue and white mini stripes, black in a low light. So what’s a boy to do? Ralph Lauren had turned ludicrous after he left.

Ragnar drove me and my bottles of wine up to fifty-second street off Madison to Farquhar’s condo, very good, twelfth floor. As I entered the building an explosion went off maybe three blocks away in some direction I couldn’t determine. Somebody was acting up, hard to tell who. It was beginning to happen fairly regularly. Cops weren’t catching anybody. So many people and organizations were claiming credit for these things it must have been a nightmare investigating these things using only electronics.

As these things were getting more frequent they didn’t even make the headlines in New York while except for certain sites on the internet the rest of the country was totally ignorant of them. The permanent Obama administration was still trying to explain them away as the work of domestic terrorists, actually by now the terrorists were domestic although not so-called White Supremacists. If by Global terrorists it was only just that we should be bombed as was said and that brought the thought of Gaines back as Lessing was rattling the locks on the other side of the door.

Once that ritual was completed I was admitted into a small foyer with a second door and a number of locks which were only locked at night or when Lessing was away. The door was now open for which I was grateful.

Through the second door one entered directly into a large living room, perhaps eight hundred square feet cutting straight through the apartment to the floor to ceiling windows that looked into the windows across the street unfortunately.

The room was comfortably decorated with expensive furniture but not the costliest. The usual New York abstracts, tasteful, were on the wall facing lovely floor to ceiling bookshelves admirably stocked. Books do furnish a room, don’t they?

I was the last to arrive. Seated, looking at me with expectant bemused expressions were Max Savings, Mark Giusty and Baron Cammell the other members of the New Serapion Brethren. Lessing was apparently a bachelor or, as I was to find, a widower.

As I could see I was the oldest of the four. Lessing was seventy-two but still in his prime. How well I remember being fourteen and finding the age of seventy incomprehensible as young people still do. While even people in their thirties and forties expect people of seventy or eighty to be decrepit. Most of us aren’t. Certainly Lessing and I were in full vigor. Diet helps, three or four years earlier I had been compelled to give up my sugar diet, and I mean I love sugar, and that and an improved diet recharged me considerably.

Lessing was more robust than I being taller, probably six-two and bigger boned. He was filled out but not fat or even heavy looking, his face like mine was unlined while he had a full head of white hair as did I although mine was removable and his wasn’t. He showed a little surprise as I was nearly bald at our two previous encounters.

Lessing introduced me to Max Savings who was small, perhaps five-six, and slight. Max was the youngest at sixty-two. He was dressed like an undertaker, had a slightly weasely face with a pointed nose. He had a sharp intelligence.

Marc Giusty was Italian standing a half inch or so below me, seventy years old, still athletic looking, spent a couple hours a day in the gym as I was to learn, lean and long headed in the Italian manner, thin mustache and good features.

Last to be introduced was Baron Cammell. Baron was his first name and not a title. He would prove to be the most difficult member of the group for me.

By the time I was finished with the introductions Max had a bottle of claret open and the glasses filled. Well, you know, two fingers. One sips, this was a cultured group no full water glasses at one gulp. We accepted our glasses and looking at each other took a sip.

Lessing: Oh, very nice.

Marc: Yes. Haven’t seen the label before.

Baron: (Sniffing slightly.) Yes, quite distinctive.

Max: (Smiling.) Enough said.

Me: Yes, well, Ramey apprenticed for many years in France before setting up in Napa. I like Bordeaux style blend and claret hits the spot for me after reading all those old English novels where claret and wine were synonymous. I like this one. So, we’re all ETA Hoffmann admirers, um?

Lessing: Yes, we are that. By way of curiosity Perry, how did you come to Hoffmann.

Me: Oh, you want my origin story as the comic books say? OK Lessing, I’ve got one. I’ll do this in the best comic book style. It was a dark and stormy day back in the middle of the last century when a thirty-six year man shoulders hunched against the cold and rain looked into a shop window. Perceiving it was a book store he being a bibliophile pushed the door open. A blast of warm air hit him as heads turned to look at the stranger.   The man glanced casually about at the few inside, mostly help, with no particular object in mind. His attention was caught by a slip cased set of two. Always a sucker for so-called special editions he picked it up to examine it. ‘Hmm…’ he mused to himself, ‘Selected Writings Of Hoffmann? Hoffmann who?’ Extracted, Vol. I read from the title page, E.T.A. Hoffmann The Tales. The man had heard of ETA Hoffmann spoken of most highly and of course he knew of Offenbach’s opera Tales Of Hoffmann. Twelve dollars and fifty cents. OK.

Tucking the parcel under his arm under his coat and lowering his head against the blast he proceeded down the street. I was that man.

Me: There you go Lessing and an identical copy can be found on your bookshelf right over there.

Ha, ha, ha came as a chorus from the four men: Nicely done, Perry, nicely done.

‘The lad shows promise, doesn’t he?’ said Lessing.

Max Savings: This could prove interesting.

Me: And since then then I’ve added a dozen volumes filling out, I think, what’s available in English except for that magnificent nineteenth century volume you have on your shelf.’

Lessing: That one. I’m quite proud of that find. I tramped London looking for that one. But you have never reviewed Hoffmann on your site Perry, how come?

Me. I don’t feel adequately prepared Lessing. I have added a number of Romantic writers to my library in the last four years, Kleist, Tieck and like that but nothing in the way of critical reviews so I don’t think I’m prepared to speak authoritatively. And I still have to read Goethe, the key Romantic. If you’ve read my stuff you probably are aware that I speak without concern of contradiction. I can’t do that with Hoffmann yet. So, if I may ask, give me a thumbnail of yourselves.

Lessing: I’m host so I might as well go first. The salient point is that I spent my career practicing law, mainly real estate and financial issues. That is an area where much of the money sticks to the lawyer and I am in a comfortable situation as you can see having made my share or more of the money stick to me. Although remunerative I found the law and its cases fairly loathsome so as soon as I felt financially independent I left all that behind and turned my attention to what I loved much as you have Perry. Much more rewarding.

Max Savings: I’m not quite so financially independent as Lessing and still at my desk at Chase. I certainly am not so accomplished literarily as you and Lessing but I squeeze in time in an effort to keep up.

Marc Giusty: I was a university prof all my working life, loved it at Columbia uptown here. History was my subject. Unfortunately I was just a yeoman and not a star. I wrote a few papers for academic publications and a couple slim volumes that disappeared down the memory hole but allowed me to keep my position. By the way, this is a nice wine.

Me: Glad I chose to your taste. And you Baron.

Baron: I’m somewhat of a polymath, expert in several fields. I’m working on a unified field theory to arrange the liberal arts in a chronology with commentary. That’s all you need know of me.

Me: Quite so, quite so. Now that we’ve been introduced and had a little wine what say I begin my presentation? I’m anxious for your opinion and hope to please.

Lessing: That sounds right. What is the title of your presentation Perry?

Me: I call it The Vampyres Of New York.

I noticed a little uneasiness in the Brethren at the title. Lessing spoke:

Is this a vampire story, Perry? I thought the understanding was that we present historical essays.

Me: Exactly Lessing. But lesser known aspects, other sides so to speak and that is what mine is. Don’t let the title throw you. By the way as you’re not looking at the paper I spell vampire v-a-m-p-y-r-e. I chose the spelling to indicate a difference from a Dracula type blood vampire. My essay will concern what is known as psychic vampires. When I was searching Vampyres Of New York on the internet to see if my first couple of posts had registered yet I was surprised to find that there is actually an organization called The Vampyres Of New York, spelled with a Y.

I was further astonished that it claims to be worldwide although the claim seems a little dubious. At any rate the possible leader is a guy calling himself Father Sebastian who divides his time between New York and Paris.

As you know since the first Disney version of Star Wars a recent religion has sprung up based on the concept of the Force and whatever. It seems probable that the Vampyre organization is a type of Satanic religion too. This brings to mind that after the challenge to the Jewish religion in the West after the Scientific Revolution following the Enlightenment the Western Jewish religion under the Scientific challenge dissolved into a number of splinter religions seeking a center. The center of course came from the East and was called Zionism so that Judaism with some atavism and Zion are one.

Christianity has taken longer to find a new center but under the influence of nineteenth and twentieth century Satanism we may be seeing a jelling into some form of a universal Satanic religion. It is something to bear in mind. So my historical investigation is concerned with the Jewish and Christian religious disintegration of the previous two centuries under some sort of vampiric influence. Is that alright? It won’t offend any sensibilities?

Lessing: If it is historical we have no objections.

Me: Alright. I’m pretty sure this will be a different approach to what you’re used to so I have a prologue explaining the difference between a Dracula type Vampirism and psychic Vampyrism which will concern us. This is longish but not hugely long so fill your glasses and sit back. It is written out so feel free to interrupt at any time for explanations or comments, discussions or whatever.

OK? I begin: The Vampyres Of New York.

 

Clip 4 following contains the text of Vampyres Of New York.

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Part I, Clip 2, The Vampyres Of New York

December 12, 2015

 

 

The Vampyres Of New York

Part I, Clip 2

The story continues…

As I say some sort of subconscious stirring had drawn me to New York. When I first walked into James Carter I felt stirring in my brain but now there was a deeper agitation foreboding a brain change. At my age, of course, there was always something happening, your body diminishes a bit while mental adjustments are constant but this felt more like a sea change, a premonition of a brain crunch, going in one door and coming out another.

Over the past decade or so I had had three major crises. The first was the strongest, a tremendous electrical discharge at the top of the frontal lobe. My whole power train from brain to genitals lit up, transparent as it were, I had no means to evaluate it nor was I aware of any changes in my behavior.

The second occurred a few year later, the electrical discharge was not so strong only flashing from my heart. Something had changed but I couldn’t tell what. The third that happened was only a couple years ago just before my wife died but only disalienating however I did then notice some personality changes as bits and pieces of personality fell into place. I had greater self-confidence and a bit more forceful personality, I lost my usual diffidence that had been diminishing I now noticed from the first two events.

They say that coming events cast a shadow before them. In my case that has to be true because I began to ruminate on the notion of dual personalities. I do not mean split personality but dual personality, twins of a sort, both aware of each other, nothing hidden from each. Biologically speaking the physical structure is made up of two halves, from two separate identities. That is the sperm and ovum come together to form one organism, two different and unrelated strands of DNA and the two strands retain separate identities as the brain retains two separate halves joined by another organ, the corpus collosum, that allows communication between the two halves.

At some time in the distant past a predecessor organism contained all four sex chromosomes, XXXy, but when sex evolved dividing chromosome in two the male received one X and the y while the female received the other two Xs, but the three Xs are not identical. So, the male has an X passive right side and the active sperm left side of the brain, hence the celebrated feminine side to the male personality.

The female has an active X from the sperm and passive X from the ovum.

The psychoanalysts Freud and Jung at the beginning of the twentieth century then named the ovum side of the brain the Anima and the left the Animus. So really the individual whether male or female has the elements of a dual personality.

This fact has always been recognized being frequently portrayed in literature although usually unconsciously. The first representation, although the exponents weren’t aware of the source was the opposition of God and Satan, Good vs. Evil impulses. There was a conflict between the wish to be good and the reality of being evil. This was a psychological problem that had to be explained; thus the serpent in the Garden of Eden story and also that of Lucifer being kicked out of heaven. Thus early civilized man explored the nature of psychology.

Certainly in my early life the whole notion of God and Satan was relegated to the realm of fable. By the beginning of the nineteenth century in the Western world and the Western world only biology became a source of explanation thus the story of ETA Hoffmann, The Princess Brambilla that is a discussion of the Anima and Animus.

Perhaps the most famous dual personality story of the nineteenth century was Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde. A story that concerns two aspects of the Animus. In Stevenson’s story Dr. Jekyll has suppressed a wild aspect of his Animus by emphasizing a respectable persona that he needed to succeed in the world as a physician. However Jekyll longed for the rough and rowdy days of his youth represented by the other person of Mr. Hyde. Hyde, to say the least, was uncivilized.

The repression of Hyde was so strong that Jekyll couldn’t indulge him. This being the golden age of science, while Jekyll was the experimental sort, he discovered a potion or drug that temporarily released the Hyde persona of his Animus or Ego. This was fine except for with each repeated dosage Hyde become more obstreperous finally indulging his passions in murder. He was on his way to becoming a serial killer.

Now with police hot on his trail Hyde took the antidote to turn himself back into Jekyll but alas he found the little abyss back too wide to jump over. He had become his opposite.

Stevenson’s little novelette became one of the most influential books of the twentieth century. Without fully understanding it the cat was out of the bag although it came in many different colors.

Perhaps one of the most interesting investigations was that proposed by the American writer, the great Edgar Rice Burroughs. He created one of the fundamental characters of the twentieth century, the great man beast, Tarzan Of The Apes.

Burroughs himself was entranced by Stevenson’s Jekyll and Hyde. The idea of a dual personality had a great appeal to him. Of course the novelette was new at the time presenting a startling idea. Psychology, specifically psycho-analysis, presented startling findings to the public that had to be absorbed but couldn’t or wouldn’t be absorbed for fifty years or more and then by the chosen few. Burroughs also had a great interest in psychology.

Concurrent with these developments was the newly risen conflict between civilization and the primitive with their conflicting demands on the perplexed mind of humanity. The notion was, especially propounded by the anthropologist James G. Frazer in his multi-volume The Golden Bough was his vision that the primitive mind was overlain only by ‘a thin veneer of civilization.’ Scratch a civilized man and the primitive beast beneath would emerge, not too unlike Jekyll and Hyde.

Influencing Burroughs alongside these was Darwin’s theory of evolution. Mixed and shaken well what came out of Burrough’s mind was Tarzan of the Apes.

As a ‘true’ story of course the novel is preposterous. Generally speaking the literati rejected the novel for its obvious impossibility refusing to see the allegory of the times which it was. The story is beautiful in a mythological way.

Tarzan was a thoroughly divided man just as was his model Stephenson’s Jekyll and Hyde. No less preposterous I might add. If you set a matrix over the two stories they are the same. Burroughs himself had two personalities and he believed that all people did to a greater or lesser degree, correctly as it would seem.

Thus Tarzan or John Clayton, Lord Greystoke to give him his real name and title was born an English aristocrat on a voyage to Africa. Pirates seized their ship depositing them on the coast of Gabon just below the falls of the Congo. A tribe of great apes, more resembling the Missing Link than any known species assaulted the homestead of the man, wife and child castaways killing the mother and father. The son would have been killed by the great bull ape except that a female named Kala who had just lost an infant snatched the babe from the cradle running away with it and defying anyone to harm it.

Thus the human Tarzan became a feral child raised as a beast among the Great Apes without acquiring the thin veneer of civilization. However an Englishman to the bone, a member of the greatest race of the human species, was always an Englishman no matter what the circumstances. His parents humble but well constructed cabin weathers the elements for a decade or so until Tarzan discovers it and enters to find it well supplied with children’s books thoughtfully brought by his expectant real mother. He thus discovers that he is not a funny looking ape but something else altogether. As the picture showed a boy and conveniently put the letters B-O-Y beneath it cleverly putting picture to type or two and two make four as we say he learned that the was a boy.

Teaching himself to read using the convenient dictionary his pop brought along he acquires the thinnest veneer of civilization. Probably learned chemical formulae from dad’s convenient chemistry text book although that is mere speculation on my part. At that point he acquired a dual personality. He was both a beast and a semi-civilized man. However he prefers the skimpiest loin cloth with tails hanging down front and back to the most luxurious tuxedo.

That’s the way Edgar Rice Burroughs rewrote Stephenson’s Jekyll and Hyde while integrating the latest and most advanced ideas of his times. Altogether an excellent intellectual achievement.

Stephenson’s idea wasn’t exhausted by Burroughs’ treatment. Indeed, the idea became a staple of at least pulp literature. I’m not going to trouble you with an exhaustive study but here’s a few highlights that are very interesting. The idea of the hero with a day job and an after dark avocation had taken root.

We have The Shadow of Maxwell Grant. Not just a couple dozen novels as with Burroughs’ Tarzan but well over three hundred of them. Grant was a magician. No, really. He was a practicing magician, as such he undoubtedly had an interest in hypnotism. Grant said that The Shadow had the power to cloud men’s minds so that he was invisible. That’s hypnotism and there are many more evidences in the novels.

As with Burroughs’ Tarzan some fans come from print others through other media. By 1930 when The Shadow appears the other media includes, movies, radio and comics that had come into existence. However the characters created by the movies and other media were much different than what issued from the minds of Burroughs or Grant. (Real name Walter Gibson.)

Thus Grant’s Shadow is composed of interesting dualities. On the macro level The Shadow represents the Godly mind while the evil criminals he destroys are in the Satanic mold. The Shadow might even be construed as Godliness’ last stand. The Satanic model would increase in dominance until in 1966 Time Magazine blazoned its cover in black and white with the question Is God Dead? That was quite shocking tearing the fabric of society.

In that same year the Jew Ira Levin published his novel Rosemary’s Baby telling of the birth of Satan’s child, Little Andy. The novel was followed by the Jew Roman Polanski’s horrific film of the same name in 1968 as the Satanic side of the human mind replaced the Godly. From Rosemary’s Baby flowed the Charles Manson murders. It’s been hell since.

On the micro level The Shadow himself was the alter ego of a man named Kent Allard who in vampire fashion assumed the identity of Lamont Cranston. We at the time knew only of the radio Shadow and Cranston. In the novel Allard faked his death in South America removing all traces of his existence. Returning to New York he terrorized his lookalike Lamont Cranston into allowing Allard to operate in his identity while sending Cranston overseas. Thus by day Cranston was a playboy around town and at night he was The Shadow, a vigilante fighting evil. It seems that it would be difficult to be a playboy without a nightlife but Allard/Cranston managed it. The Shadow is an integral part of my own mentality, perhaps in opposition to the evil William C. Gaines.

By the late thirties Burroughs and Grant were spawning all kinds of imitators. While comic strips in newspapers had existed since the turn of the century comic books came into existence in the mid-thirties giving whole new dimensions to the dual personality. Comic books as we know them were created by the character Superman in 1938 first in Action Comics and then in his own name.

The comic book was wholly a creation of Jewish talents pushing a Jewish agenda. As such, whether we knew it or not the comics reflected the Jewish view of life or Weltanschauung. The Jews have been described as a peculiar people and indeed their history confirms the evaluation. The Kent Allard/Lamont Cranston/Shadow triumvirate more or less sums up the Jewish experience.

Twentieth Century US experience in which I lived most of my life was one of discovery for me. In my childhood that followed the death camps of WWII I never actually knew a Jew as a Jew. Like Kent Allard they had merged into a new disguise that for a novice or even experienced person was extremely difficult to penetrate. I knew they existed because I read about them and there was a synagogue in one of the most conspicuous places in town while the only Jew that identified as a Jew was called Sheeny Sheyer and he was a haberdasher. Beyond that I scarcely knew Jews existed until the really big 1958 Holocaust fest show. That was my introduction. Since then, of course, Judaism has been one of the central thread of my studies.

Jews have developed the dual identity into an art form. As the saying goes: Sometimes they don’t know who they are.

As they are living in other people’s countries, since 1800 they have tried to adapt by adopting local haberdashery while adopting personal names in the local manner. Of course in mid-nineteenth century European population pressures compelled the State to order their peoples to assume last names, just as in our day population pressures have forced the adoption of a unique number to identify the specific individual. Thus there might be umpteen John Smiths in the US but you have to have the right number to identify your John Smith.

In the Jewish case a man might have gone by the name of Isaac Ben Abraham, that is Isaac, the son of Abraham. Under the new system he had to choose a last name. The Jews usually named themselves after articles of value or distinction. Hence all the variants of Gold, Silver and precious stones. Isaac Ben Abraham might become Isaac Goldbladder or Isaac Silvermaster or, Perhaps Heinrich Heine. Going into the twentieth century then all Westerners had a first and last name and any number of intervening names their parents might choose.

As most of these names were either German or Russian upon coming to the US many chose to translate the name into English; thus Sumner Rothstein became Sumner Redstone. Sumner itself being considered an assimilative name. David and Michael are the most popular Jewish first names. Some, like Edward G. Robinson the actor, anglicized their name more completely, his European name being Emmanuel Goldenberg (Gold Mountain.) Behind that not unlike Lamont Cranston who might have been Kent Allard was a Hebrew name and that was his real identity. So a Jew automatically had a dual identity, his public name by which he was known at large and the name with which he was registered as a Jew.

On might say then that he was always in disguise in the broad world, a secret foreign agent reporting, as it were, to the synagogue. His people came first before his ‘adopted’ country. This is a source of much confusion to non-Jews while Jews lie when they say their ‘adopted’ country is their first loyalty. Interesting that they adopt a country but the country doesn’t adopt them.

When comic books were developed in the mid-thirties they were almost exclusively Jewish hence expressing the Jewish Weltanschauung. All the characters had dual identities.

Thus Superman migrated from the planet Krypton and ‘adopted’ Earth as his chosen planet. His Krypton identity was Superman while his earthly identity was the wimpish Clark Kent. Capt. America was the Jewish identity while Steve Rogers was his goyish identity. And this continued with the comic book characters Batman and Robin identities.

Now, the Jew has always felt inferior to the other; Cain was the big strong other while Abel was the lesser younger brother. Clark Kent was a weak human while the Jewish Superman was a powerful extra-terrestrial. Steve Rogers was a 98 lb. weakling while Capt. America while lacking true super powers certainly outperformed human beings.

The creators of these characters mostly anglicized their names, Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, but not all. So these people had multiple real identities. When you think about it, it is fairly incredible.

When the super characters began playing out in the post-war years the publishers had to search for new themes and they tried everything settling finally into crime but then as Crime Does Not Pay William C. Gaines finally hit the main vein with sado-masochistic horror comics, thus Weird Tales and Tales From The Crypt et al..

That’s where I came in and leave off. I was surprised to find myself ruminating on this subject like this especially as I am beginning to find movement in my brain that signifies some sort of development. When I hit seventy-five I began to notice subtle brain changes followed by electrical discharges the significance of which I am just now understanding. So, I felt some changing was coming but I couldn’t tell when. I found out; it was imminent.

-II-

What prompted me to ruminate on dual personalities, the Jekyll and Hyde syndrome, was unknown to me but from the rumblings in my brain I knew something was brewing. Whatever abominable motives I had for coming to New York City were about to out themselves; I sensed that.

I still needed a wardrobe. I had come to the realization that I needed different garb for different situations, that is, essentially, multiple identities. Ragnar was much more familiar with the city and as his time was at my disposal I asked him to show me around some thrift shops; I needed second hand clothing.

I met him at the building’s entrance where we stopped and chatted with Ottmar the doorman for a few minutes. Ragnar gave Ottmar an opportunity to look me over and evaluate me. I put on my maximum gravitas for Ottmar, which I also assumed for the outing with Ragnar. I was sure I passed Ottmar’s test and while I couldn’t be sure I saw that he was tentatively satisfied.

Ragnar was gifted with an almost perfect knowledge of the city’s streets so I let him lead our two man parade. While walking along we passed a wig shop, I guided Ragnar in. The shine was showing through the sparsening hairs on my own head while I had always been fascinated by Andy Warhol’s use of wigs. They were good disguises.

There was a wonderful array of wigs. I picked out a grey one for dignity, a blond one to look vainglorious and a dark one, I suppose for variety but maybe in imitation of Elvis. I was interested in disguising my own paucity of follicles (God, that’s labored, isn’t it?) I can’t bring myself to say bald, but like with Warhol, for effect. An obvious wig draws people’s attention away from your actual appearance making an identification less possible. So, I was three wigs closer to my objective.

Ragnar brought us up to a block or so of thrift shops. I began selecting street clothes. There were any number of styles to choose from, very nearly any time period. Especially since the Great Migration under Obama’s third term, permanent dictatorship actually, one could buy almost any style in the world, naqibs, dashikis, everything.

The ’16 election ended the ‘democracy’ as you well know. God, that was a mess. I was irate when they refused to inaugurate Trump after he had taken a full sixty-five percent of the popular vote and all the electoral votes save New Mexico. We, of what was dubbed the Outsider Party, were irate but the Insider Party small as it was had the fire power and already controlled the apparatus so there was little that could be done in that surprise move.

At least the battle lines were drawn although little in the way of revolt has appeared yet. Some very minor skirmishing in places like Chicago and some Southern cities but nothing unmanageable yet. Remarkably quiet but with a feeling of real tension. Trump had no choice but to go back to New York City. Winning by that margin and being denied his office, of course, exposed the Insiders to the world and the mask did come down, both here and in Europe. Embarrassed the Insiders stripped Trump of his fortune leaving him with a relative pittance, he definitely had to sell his 757.

Even as Trump was returning to New York the Insiders threw down the walls and immigration exploded. They give us five million as the official number but it is probably ten to twenty million judging from the streets of New York which is where millions landed. Speaking as the ghost of John Rocker one doesn’t hear so much dozens of foreign languages but that English seems to be missing.

In an odd turn of events on our journey I noticed ‘scribes’ with tables set up for customers who wanted to send a letter back home but were illiterate. Talk of medieval times; there was no longer an appropriate name for it. I found myself buying strange things. I got a very nice Lubavitcher outfit, also a perfect disguise, weird hat and all for not too much. I picked up a naqib or burka that I thought would be a terrific disguise. You could carry weapons and nearly anything under the voluminous folds without fear of detection. Plus as an apparent woman you were generally ignored, invisible.

I also asked Ragnar to get me a couple handguns. He agreed before he realized what he had admitted but we both let that slide. I have no idea why I thought he could do it nor did I realize why I wanted them. We were fully loaded on the walk back to the condo. Perhaps spurred on by Ragnar’s ability to get guns I asked if he knew martial arts.

‘Oh sure. That was one of the Carmichael’s requirements. I also serve as a bodyguard. I’m Black Belt. Why?’

I wasn’t sure why. ‘You look like you can really handle yourself Ragnar. Good shape, athletic build, just wondered? Work out?

‘Absolutely. I don’t bulk up like a body builder but I’ve put on enough muscle to deal with things, get the right weight you know. May I ask you a few questions?’

‘Sure, go ahead. If they’re discreet.’

‘A friend of mine recognized you from your picture on your web site. He says you’re the writer Partly Wright. True?’

‘Partly Wright Delivers The Truth? Yes, that’s my stuff. Your friend reads me?’

‘He’s on the conservative side and says you lay it out as it is.’

‘That’s my goal Ragnar, that’s my goal. Good to learn somebody else thinks so too. Is your friend political?’

I was trying to find out if Ragnar was part of some secret political organization but I couldn’t come out and ask without seeming nosy.

‘Is your friend in a political set?’ I asked hoping that sounded like a generality.

‘No, we just talk at the gym about things.’

Talk at the gym? OK. There was a possibility. I let the subject drop for the time being as we were approaching the condo. We threw the bundles into the grocery cart as I reminded him to be ready for my first fitting at James Carter.

-III-

I woke up next morning and realized that I was due at James Carter for my initial fitting. I looked forward eagerly to the thought of realizing my desire for a bespoke suit, still, other thoughts crowded my mind. I wondered what my real reason was for being in New York. Yes, I was aware of the good reasons but I sensed subliminal reasons I wasn’t able to articulate. And then there were the brain stirrings that usually preceded some sort of mental adjustment. So far each had been more liberating after the trauma while I believed I had cleared out all of the fixations that had influenced my behavior. At the same time I sensed, or I knew of from study, that there was a level of conditioning that lurked below the subconscious in a sort of basement or foundation of the mind. Perhaps that was stirring. I would soon find out.

Alighting from the limo I was greeted on the sidewalk by the manager, a little too effusively I thought; there was no reason to leave the store. As he escorted me up the stairs to the second floor it hit. The seventh step up I felt, even heard, the brain crunch as I slightly staggered against the rail. Fortunately the manager was ahead of me and didn’t see me lurch or whatever grimace was on my face. I was slightly dazed and mentally unsteady as he brought the lead tailor out to introduce me to him.

I could feel the cold professional appraisal, I knew I was being evaluated for what status I would be assigned.

‘Abe, this is Mr. Partly Wright for whom we will be making several suits’. He said, adding a few suits I hadn’t mentioned as he saw that Abe was giving me a fishy eye bordering on disapproval or even hostility in an effort to forestall any affront by Abe to drive me off.

‘And Partly this is Abraham Goldbladder our tailor and one of the finest in New York’, Abe growled, ‘And anywhere else.’ ‘I’m sure you to will get along swimmingly, won’t you Abe?’

‘I’m sure.’ Abe said glowering at me, sawing the measuring tape across the back of neck a couple times. ‘Partly is it? Come this way and we’ll get started.’

I followed into the work area where Abe turned swiftly and stood glaring at me, uncertain of how to begin.

‘I know who you are Mr. Wright.’ He said sternly. ‘Follow me.’

‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘This explains who some of the people are who Ragnar noticed following me. It isn’t that I didn’t think The Tribe mightn’t be tagging my movements but this confirmed it, moved my suspicions from paranoia to fact, so to speak.

Abe led through a corridor or two, down backstairs to a door he flung open with an imperative gesture to pass through. I found myself in an alley, a dank smelly alley, narrow and confining. At first I thought that Abe had thrown me out, refusing to serve me but, no, he followed me out and stood confronting me.

‘We know who you are.’ He repeated sternly as though demanding a reply.

I paused a moment gathering my fractured wits about me while trying to assume a commanding but condescending humorously mocking posture. This confrontation would determine the quality of my stay in New York. Abe believed that confronting me in amongst the smelly dumpsters in the alley would be an insult to put me at a disadvantage. Abe had no way of knowing that I had dealt with his tribesmen in a more than somewhat intimate basis in my working years and was quite familiar with Jewish tactics.

I smiled and chuckled at him trying to exude the air that Abe was in his proper habitat and that I was fully aware of it. I did succeed to his obvious discomforture.

‘I’m sure you do, Abe. I’m just surprised that you have finally come out into the open. Am I in your habitat now?’

It was important for me to get the upper. I knew that Abe would try to get me angry while not being able to imagine any other arguments than the Semitic canards that had come down through the ages forming the basis of his peoples’ minds. I therefore imagined myself smoking the avuncular or grandfatherly pipe chuckling quietly at the young one’s impertinence. If I could get Abe steamed so much the better.

Abe flushed a little, losing his edge, when he realized that I had said that he was in his element in the alley amongst those godawful dumpsters.

‘We want to know what you’re here for. What’s up your sleeve?’

‘Oh Abe’, I chuckled, ‘you’re not going to lay that paranoid trip on me are you? Do you fear the other that much?’

‘Fear what other?’ He said, jutting out his jaw a trifle. ‘We aren’t afraid of anyone.’

‘Oh Abe, you know, the ever present fearsome anti-Semite. Those you have to shut down and silence by any means necessary.’ I took an imaginary draw on my imaginary pipe to keep a steady low.

‘We know from your writings that you’re an anti-Semite Wright, the lowest form of scum on the planet.’

‘By ‘we’ I presume you’re including the American Jewish Committee and Anti-Defamation League, possibly the SPLC, Abe?’

He snorted non-committally refusing to answer.

‘Only in the Jewish mind, Abe.’ I replied to his question with a smile and a knowing laugh. ‘Anti-Semitism is only Jewish fear of the other in action. You just can’t face who you are; any criticism smarts so bad because it tells you the truth about yourselves. The truth is that Jews always live in societies that are superior to you and that clashes so furiously with your fantasies of superiority that it drives you mad.

There is evidence. Consider the Jews transported from a relatively primitive backwater town like Jerusalem to the stupendous magnificence of Babylon. The Jewish imagination was dwarfed. Thus you have madmen like Isaiah and Ezekiel proclaiming Jewish superiority and opening the gates to the Persians.

The same scenario has been repeated ad infinitum throughout history including your opening the doors of the United States to unlimited diverse immigration. That’s the same thing as opening Babylon’s doors to the Persians or Spanish doors to the Moors not to mention then opening Moorish doors to the Spaniards. It is incontestable Abe.

Jewish frustration erupts into mass murder. The Jews attempted to compete with and subject the Roman Empire. That ended in the complete destruction of Israel and the leveling of Jerusalem and the Temple. Undismayed your people continued the war finally erupting at the beginning of the second century murdering half a million people in Alexandria and Cyprus under the most barbaric conditions. A true crime against humanity.

The result of that episode was a manhunt to destroy any and all Jews. Sixteen hundred years later after the resulting collapse of civilization your Jews again thought to kill all Europeans. Sabbatai Zevi posing as a messiah thought to usher in the millennium in 1666. Your Jews in Europe were selling their possessions for peanuts to have a last fling as money wouldn’t matter after the redemption. The redemption failed and the Jewish revolt never happened.

I’m skipping over a great deal Abe, just the highlights now. Then in 1914 you instigated the Great European Holocaust that after the terrible wars from ’14 to ’45 has continued to today when you have refused to seat the elected presidential candidate Donald Trump.’

Here Abe lost control a little, I was succeeding. ‘That was only social justice. I’m sure you know that in 1920 five elected Jewish representatives to the New York legislature were refused their seats and sent back to New York City.’

‘Not because they were Jewish Abe, because they were Socialists.’

‘What’s the difference?’ Abe let slip.

‘In answer to your question, none.’ I laughed as merrily as I could without seeming forced. I had admired a lesson Marshall McLuhan had given to Tim Leary in the Sixties of the old century that when confronted by hecklers the best reproof was to just open your mouth and laugh them off. Drives them crazy and it seemed to effect Abe that way who should have known better with his age and experience.

‘But the situations are not comparable Abe. Of course with the elected candidate refused we still needed a president. Hillary, the defeated candidate was not possible and there were no alternates legally available so you people set aside all law, all precedent and said Obama would continue as president for life. And then you had the gall to get your three Jewish representatives on the Supreme Court to declare it constitutional. Fourteenth Amendment my ass.’

‘That was a problem that had nothing to do with we Jews.’

‘One thousand Rabbis said otherwise Abe. Deny as you will. Then out of sheer malice you destroyed Trump. Stripped him of everything for having defied you. Took everything, even renamed Trump Towers the Goldman Towers. Don’t know why you left the other half of the name off. Everyone knows who Obama’s boss is.

So, really Abe, I’ve got your number, you don’t have mine. I know you, you know me. I’m just here to get some clothes because your company reminds me of Eric Ross. It gives me some continuity. You’re going to have to make my suits for me.’

So saying l slipped inside the door quickly throwing the dead bolt. Abe hammered and shouted to no effect. Accepting the inevitable he walked the length of the dark smelly alley emerging into the light to the amusement of those watching. Abe’s planned humiliation of me turned back on him.

Abe had a short discussion with his manager but as there would be a fair amount of money involved he accepted his fate and began my first fitting.

I had won this one but the strain told on me. My head was rattling as Ragnar drove me back to the condo. I felt uneasy if not outright sick while the laughter in my head I had experienced in the alley came back.

Ottmar smiled me in and the elevator wait seemed interminable before I got the he thirty-first floor and all the door locks unlocked, rushing into the bedroom to leap into bed. I had just pulled the covers to my chin when I heard that low chuckle and a voice say ‘Hello.’ There was no one there but the voice went on: ‘Hello. Yes it’s me. It’s Gaines.’

‘Gaines? Who the hell is Gaines?’ I found my mind answering.

‘You remember me. Gaines? The comic books? Tales From The Crypt, Weird Tales? Remember? I’m why you came to New York.’

‘Gaines?’ Oh, I know what has happened. My own personal Mr. Hyde has shown up. I had acquired a dual identity. ‘I just want to sleep Gaines. Come back later.’ He did cease and I dropped into a fitful sleep.

Continued in Clip Three.

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