Mesa Film Festival 2019

I attended the first Mesa Film Festival, in Mesa, AZ. Learned about 'shorts', or short movies, maybe no longer than 30 minutes. Had a great time. The guy with the beard does promotions. He put the thing together.

Started an online class today on a website called Master Class.  The class is taught by Martin Scorsese.  It's about film making. Did my first two lessons today.

Short Stories...real short stories....

(fiction) This guy calls me and asks me if I want a job as the prop guy for a local horror flick. I said sure. The guy needs a black raven that shows up sitting in a tree several times through out the flick. I said no problem. I couldn't get a black raven, so I got out a mechanical duck I had in storage. I spray painted it black and glued it to a branch. It works off a remote. I put the mechanical duck in a tree. It's back ground for a creepy cemetery scene. Fog machine. Gray filters. The director cues me to activate the black raven. I hit the remote. QUACK QUACK! The black duck even moves his head. A chorus of WTF! goes up on set. It's a black duck! It kind of looks like a black raven! Give me a break!

(fiction) So a guy kicks in my door. He grabs the cat and puts a gun to its head. He says, "Where's the cheese coupon. Give me the cheese coupon or the cat gets it!" I said, "Sorry cat, I can't give up the cheese coupon". The cat gets pissed and bites the guy. The guy screams and runs out the door yelling he's going to sue me. Now the cat's mad at me.

IIf the world is going to end in 3 years, because of Global Warming; Why do all the Star Trek movies show highly advanced future?

IRREVERENT COMMENTS BY BRUCE WOODHULL

I posted some irreverent comments, on my Facebook page, about PG&E in California, shutting off power to 800,000 residents, to avoid forest fires.

Here is the link to my Facebook page.https://www.facebook.com/bruce.woodhull

Enjoy!

PROJECT X

Working on a crime/drama script. Was asked to write this for a real actor with real screen credits.

My Chapter on South Omaha: frrom A New Mexico Ghost Story

LIFE FOR YOUNG VITO





            With the birth of a second child in the future, Salvatore decided the family needed to live in a house.  The small apartment they rented was already too small and Vito had nowhere to play other than in the apartment or the bicycle shop.  Salvatore purchased a lot on a hilltop not far from the Czech quarter of South Omaha.  The hill overlooked the Missouri River.  From the hilltop, Salvatore could see the barges on the Missouri and the farm fields stretching east, to the bluffs rising out of the Missouri Valley of Iowa.  Salvatore had a one-story; three-bedroom house built to accommodate his growing family.  The front of the house was enclosed with a covered porch supported by round, wooden pillars that reminded Isabella of the grand columns of the Roman architecture in Italy.  Salvatore had the house built with a basement.  On the back of the house he had a small door built, with a metal slide descending into the basement where an insulated cooler received delivery of blocks of ice for the new icebox he purchased for the kitchen. 



     The street Salvatore chose to build on was paved with red bricks.  In the early morning, Vito could hear the sounds of approaching horse drawn wagons coming down the street.  The Omar Bakery wagon would deliver fresh bread and sweet rolls to the insulated metal box sitting on the front porch.  Next to the Omar Bakery box was a milk box to receive glass bottles of milk and cream, and packaged butter from the Roberts Dairy.  Vito would listen for the clinking of glass bottles in a wire basket the milkman carried as he walked up the cement walkway to the front porch.  The iceman who delivered the block ice to the back of the house was always the noisiest.  The blocks of ice would make a considerable racket when they were dropped down the chute to the cooler in the basement.  Morning doves would ‘coo’ outside in the tall elms Salvatore had requested left standing, before the house was built.  Isabella put up a bird feeder on the metal clothesline outside the kitchen window.  She would watch blue jays, robins and cardinals land on the bird feeder to peck at the birdseed and corn set out for them.

Brown squirrels scampered across the lawn or perched in the elms, chattering to one another or to announce the presence of a neighbor’s cat.



     The names of the residents on the street reflected the immigrant population that had made South Omaha their home.  Vito played with the Irish Lanahough boys from across the street.  Mrs. Erickson exchanged recipes with Isabella.  Abraham Goldman bought one of Salvatore’s bicycles for his son Jonathon.  The Malinowski’s belonged to the Polish Sokol hall and were involved in several community activities there.  The Vytauta’s were from Lithuania.   The Tiberui were Romanian.  The Dalibor family was Slovak and the Heitzel’s were from Germany.  The one thing all these ethnic families shared in common was America.  They had taken the gamble of leaving their nations of birth and had immigrated to the United States.  These proud Americans, who owned their own homes and had found work or created a business, were helping build South Omaha at the beginning of the new century.  Vito grew up taking for granted his playmates all had parents or grandparents who spoke another language in addition to English.  His neighborhood was rich in culture and patriotism for the United States. 





                                                             WORLD WAR I



     Despite the prosperity and security Salvatore and Isabella found in America, they were haunted by the bad news crossing the Atlantic from Italy.  Italy had entered World War I after much turmoil among Italian politicians and the government of Antonio Salandra.  Salvatore had paid little attention to the article in an Italian newspaper about the June 1914 assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie by a Serb named Gavrillo Princip.  Yet these names and this one event would spark World War I and create an atmosphere of anxiety and anger among the immigrants of South Omaha.



     The socialist newspaper ‘L’Avvenire del Lavatore’ found its way across the Atlantic, to the Italian quarter of Omaha.  The papers young editor, Benito Mussolini, a one-time anti-militarist, was now a radical nationalist and proponent of war.  Mussolini’s editorials were cut out and hung on billboards and on the walls of buildings for Italians living in Omaha to read.



     On May 23, 1915, Italy entered World War I on the side of Allies.  The 1915 Tratto Londra, or the Treaty of London promised Italy territories she laid claim to, now occupied by the Germans and Austrians.  Claiming Sacro Egoismo (Sacred Ego), a movement started by the Italia Irredente, Italy sought to wage war against her former ally, Austria.  Irredentitsts movements in South Omaha sought to recruit Italian immigrants for the Italian Army.  Catholic pacifists objecting to the war sought to dissuade young Italians from returning home to enlist in the Army. 



     Italian nationalism became evident from the increased number of Italian flags flying on the streets of South Omaha.  Heated arguments and fistfights broke out between groups of Italians divided over the war.  Anti-Italian groups in South Omaha saw the Italian flags and surge in Italian nationalism as a failure of the immigrants to assimilate into American society.  Salvatore and Isabella tried to remain neutral but their passions for the ‘Old Country’ drove them to support Italy in the war.  Salvatore even considered briefly returning to Italy to join the war effort.  Isabella protested vehemently and the subject was never discussed again.



      The papers from home did not portray a hopeful picture for Italy during the war years.

Italian General Luigi Cardorna pitted his offensive strategies against the commander of the Austrian-Hungarian armies, Archduke Eugene, time and time again at the River Isonza.  The body count of dead Italians was devastating to the Italians of South Omaha.

In 1915 the Italian Army suffered 250,000 killed, wounded or captured along the sixty-mile front on the Isonza.  Familiar names of towns on the Italian-Austrian border like Gorizia and Tolmino were associated with death and defeat.  In August of 1915 Italy declared war on Germany.  German and Italian immigrants in South Omaha immediately took sides aligned with their nations of origin.  The two nationalities boycotted ‘enemy’ businesses.  Vandalism of both German and Italian owned shops occurred.  In the neighborhoods that had once been a showplace of hospitality and American patriotism, war driven foreign nationalism created a wall of mistrust among residents.  In one battle along the Isonza, from August 4-17^th, 1915, Italy lost 50,000 men.  The Austrian-Hungarian forces lost 42,000 soldiers.  There were stories of the Austrian-Hungarian troops using poison gases to kill Italians in the trenches. 



     Posters of Cesare Battista, the Italian hero and martyr, now were on display on the streets of South Omaha.  Battista, an Italian Irredentists and officer in the Italian Army, was captured by the Austrians in the bloody fighting on the Italian-Austrian border at the River Isonzo.  In July 1916, Battista was strangled by the Austrian military as a form of execution.  The Austrian government circulated posters of the execution and the body of Battista as an attempt to demoralize the Italians.  Just the opposite occurred.  Italian emotions and hatred against the Austrians were only flamed by the pictures. 



     From September to November of 1916, Italy won a minor victory along the Isonza and Italian moral temporarily rose.  When the numbers of war dead hit the streets of South Omaha: 75,000 Italian casualties and 63,000 Austrian-Hungarians lost, the moral factor was crushed.  The worst was yet to come in 1917. 



     While the Italian community in South Omaha was grieving the massive loss of life at Isonzo, word of another horrific battle at a place called Verdun was in the newspaper.

1916 ended with the reports of unheard of losses on the battlefields at Verdun and the Somme in France.  Germany had attempted to break the ‘shield’ at Verdun, France, in an attempt to break through to force the British into an all-out war on the fields of France.

Germany had not anticipated an eleven-month blood bath that would lead to its inevitable defeat in the Great War.  France’s losses at Verdun were estimated at 400,000.

German losses were also estimated at 400,000.  American losses were thought to be around 14,000.  Newspaper accounts of the horrors of the battle told off entire companies stepping up to the ‘line’, only to disappear, to a man, in a blaze of bullets or massive artillery bombardments.  Verdun was the bloodiest battle to date in the history of mankind.  Anti-war proponents and survivors of the Great War both swore the carnage suffered at Verdun would never be allowed to occur in modern warfare again.



 

      In June of 1917, at the Battle of Caporetto saw 275,000 Italian soldiers captured by the combined forces of the German and Austrian-Hungarian forces.  Morale in the Italian army was at its lowest point.  News stories of the Italian command executing its own soldiers for refusing to fight infuriated Italians in South Omaha.  Pacifist groups in Italy and the Italian neighborhood called for an immediate withdrawal of Italian troops from the Isonza region.  The Pope issued a statement calling for an end to war.  One Italian newspaper ran a headline reading, “We have lost a generation”.  In addition to the tremendously high body counts incurred from the battles in the Isonza, there was news of over 60,000 Italians lost to avalanches in the Austrian-Italian Alps. 



     Italy had aligned herself with the Triple Entente Powers of Russia, France and Britain and the Allied powers to include the United States.  The Central Powers of Germany, Austria, Hungary, the Ottoman Empire and Bulgaria were the ‘other side’.  Eventually the war came to an end with the German defeat on November 11, 1918.  In 1919, the Treaty of Versailles was signed.  Yet for the immigrants of South Omaha, resentments and mistrust lingered years after the war.  The immigrant community of South Omaha had become more secular among groups divided over the war. 



          Despite the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, Europe was still in political turmoil.

In July 1921, a young Austrian political rabble-rouser named Adolph Hitler was elected leader of Germany’s National Socialist Party, or the Nazis.  Hitler blamed Germany’s defeat in World War I on the Jews and Marxists.  His political aspirations and his fear-mongering tactics would touch the lives of all Americans in the future.  In 1921, Adolph Hitler and the Nazis were just names uttered in conversations among men reading the newspaper.



     During the years war ravaged Europe and divided immigrants in South Omaha, another ‘war’ was being fought at home.  Since the turn of the century and before, a seemingly endless procession of deadly train disasters plagued America’s railroads.

American’s had come to rely on the railroads for transportation of both people and goods.

Yet despite the economical benefits and the new and modern mode of transportation the railroads brought to many American communities, there was still the problem of safety on the rails and the potential for loss of human life.  There was seldom a train accident that didn’t include the deaths of nearly a hundred people or more. 



     South Omaha was home to many Union Pacific Rail Road employees.  The U.P. had its headquarters in Omaha.  Criticizing the Union Pacific in South Omaha was like criticizing the Pope to many of the city’s immigrant Catholics.  The Union Pacific had helped build Omaha and provided jobs to many of the immigrant citizens of South Omaha.  The U.P., the Burlington Northern and other railroads offered Americans stability and a lifetime of employment.  Yet cries of public outrage demanding accountability for lack of safety concerns, labor abuses and political corruption were all leveled at American railroads.



      In California in 1907, a group of Republican businessmen and lawyers started the Lincoln Roosevelt League.  The LRL broke the hold the Southern Pacific Railroad had on Californian state government.  Soon, other such groups were formed across the country, earning these groups the label of ‘anti-railroad leagues’.  These groups sought to federalize railroad safety standards, shipping rates and regulations and laborers wages.  The anti-railroad groups were met with stiff opposition from the railroads and the railroad employees whom the leagues sought to help.  Railroading in America at the start of the 20^th century faced a turbulent and difficult future, and for good reason.  Just a few of the more sensational train wrecks were used as proof of the railroads careless disregard for safety and human life.



      In 1903, the ‘Wreck of the Old 97’, claimed the lives of eleven railroad employees, at Danville, Virginia.  On September 27, 1903, the Southern Railway mail train, Old 97 or the Fast Mail, as some called it, entered a curve at a high rate of speed and left the tracks.  The curve led into a trestle over a deep ravine.  The Old 97 plummeted into the ravine, killing the locomotive crew and several of the mail handlers in the mail cars.



     Eden, Colorado was the seen of the ‘Hogan’s Draw’ train wreck, in the early evening hours of August 7, 1904.  The Missouri Pacific railroad’s “Denver, Kansas City and St. Louis Express”, wrecked when the 110-B bridge collapsed under the train’s weight.  Heavy rains had caused the arroyo the 110-B spanned to fill with nearly 30 feet of fast moving water.  The torrent of the wash in the arroyo and the heavy rains had loosened the timbers supporting the wooden beam bridge.  When the leading steam locomotive of the passenger train crossed the 110-B, it collapsed.  The leading locomotive had crossed over the bridge to the other side; but was pulled back down, into the arroyo when the bridge collapsed under the rest of the train.  Ninety-six people lost their lives and dozens were injured.  Fourteen passenger’s bodies were never recovered due to the fast-moving waters, which fed, into a nearby river.



     1918 saw several train disasters, which heightened the demands for increased railway safety, and a call for federal investigations into the cause of these rail disasters.



     On Feb 23, 1910, a passenger train and a mail train were stopped at Wellington, Washington in the depot.  Heavy snowfalls up to a foot an hour had closed the tracks out of Wellington.  The passengers remained in the train.  The railroad fed the passengers and kept them warm during the blizzard.  For several days, the snows fell and prevented any trains from leaving or entering Wellington.  Some of the passengers were irate at the unforeseen delay while others created a festive mood at the expense of the railroad.



     In the early morning hours of March 1, rain and slightly warmer temperatures replaced the snow.  The rain and warmer temps loosened the snow pack above Wellington.  At about 1 A.M., a wall of snow, a quarter mile wide, came crashing down on Wellington.

The deadly avalanche hit the Wellington depot and the two trains parked there.  The trains were pushed into the Tyre River, below the depot.  96 people were killed and several injured as the merciless wall of snow swept over the town and depot.  Some of the bodies of the dead were not recovered until July of that year, when the snows finally melted.  Again, the nation was asking how could such a thing happen? 



     1918 saw several sensational and deadly train wrecks in that year alone.

June 22, 1918 went down in history as the day the Hammond circus train wreck occurred.

The Higenbeck-Wallace circus train was stopped at the Hammond, Indiana depot when a fast-moving Michigan Central train struck it from behind.  86 circus employees were killed in the crash or by fire and 127 were injured.



     In Nashville, Tennessee, on July 9^th, 1918, the ‘Great Train Wreck of 1918’, happened when the Nashville, Chattanooga, and St. Louis Railway train #4 collided head on with the same railroad’s train #1.  101 people lost their lives and 171 were injured.



     On November 1, 1918, a rapid transit train in New York City killed 93 people when it failed to negotiate a curve under the intersection of Flatbush Avenue, Ocean Avenue and Malbone Street.  The elevated train crashed into the wall a tunnel, shearing off train walls and roofs.  The railroad’s motormen were out on strike and an inexperienced crew dispatcher replaced this ill-fated train’s motorman.  The owners of the rapid transit railway insisted the trains must be kept running despite the fact the proper and experienced personnel who usually operated the trains were out on strike.



The nation demanded federal oversight of public safety and regulation of the railroads; and for good reason.  The federal government slowly began a gradual over taking of public utilities and services formally under the control of the private sector and the sovereign States. 



  In the summer of 1921, growing up in South Omaha, Vito lived a life free of depressing world news or any threat of political oppression.  He could hear the rumbling of trains on the railroad bridge crossing the Missouri River.  The long freight trains were the engines of commerce.  To the young boy, growing up in on a hill overlooking the Missouri River, the trains were a source of contemplation and daydreaming.  He would like to take a trip on a luxurious passenger train.  He dreamed of taking a train to Denver or even as far west as San Francisco.  Vito was eleven years old and life for the San Liquido family was good.







     In the summer of 1924 Vito worked assisting bricklayers on the construction of the Omaha Livestock Exchange Building.  Vito was at first hesitant to take the job.  He feared he was not strong enough to lift and push the flat wooden wheel barrels carrying the bricks to the masons.  He also had a problem with physical labor.  Anything that had to be done manually, from helping around the house to his first job as a construction laborer, bored him.  Vito’s mind was too active to stay focused on the mundane task of watching seasoned masons laying one brick after another, for days on end.  On his first day on the job, Vito was polite and attentive, but he wished he were somewhere else. 



     He was assigned to haul bricks for a group of Italian bricklayers.  Vito’s initial impression of the Italian’s was that they were noisy and uneducated.  Vito thought the men characterized the stereotypical immigrant: dirty, loud and uneducated.  The Italians had just the opposite opinion of young Vito.  They liked the fact he had an Italian name and he spoke ‘functional’ Italian.  He was big for his age and could do the work with little coaching.  Early on the morning of his first day at work, the Italians immediately started telling Vito stories of their adventures laying brick in Italy and the rest of Europe.

Each man had a story to tell.  The stories held Vito’s interest as he began to interpret the stories being told in Italian and broken English.



     The men told of their leaving their families to work as mason’s laying stone and brick in some of the grandest cities in Europe.  They had traveled by train or steam freighter to foreign countries, some as far away as Moscow in Russia.  Vito had never heard so many different variations of life in the ‘old country’ before.  His mother had told him of life in Napoli and how she had lost her family to cholera.  His father told him of working in the automobile plant and of saving money for him and Isabella to come to America.  But the Italian bricklayers had a wealth of tales that put the story teller in the middle of some grand portrayal of life in Europe’s greatest cities and some of its seediest dens of corruption.



     There were stories about working on spiraling cathedral towers, and bridges spanning wide rivers.  The men told of their conquests in the brothels of Europe.  They recalled fights with Germans and Austrians.  They spoke with great reverence for comrades killed on the job or as fallen heroes who died in knife fights in bars or in back allies of some distant city whose name was hard to pronounce. The men lamented with deep regret for the years they were separated from their wives and children left behind in Italy. Despite the mundane tasks of hauling bricks for the Italians, Vito looked forward to coming to work to hear the stories and have the tale pick up where it left off the day before.  Vito would come home and share the stories with his parents.  They would nod and affirm the tales of Italian men traveling abroad to send money home.  Sometimes Vito would repeat an Italian expression he had brought home from work and Isabella would scold him and tell him not to use that word again.  Salvatore smiled but kept his approval of the use of the ‘word’ to himself.  Vito was getting an education in the value of hard work and the essence of the history of his people.  Salvatore didn’t have a problem with Vito’s use of the ‘word’, if Isabella didn’t hear him use it.



     One day the Italian foreman of the bricklayers told Vito to climb the scaffolding with the other men and learn how to lay brick.  Vito was beside himself with excitement and gratification.  He was going to stand, side by side, with the heroes from the ‘old country’ and learn how to lay brick.  The Italians were patient with Vito as they taught him how to stretch the ‘mason line’, or the long string that went from corner to corner of the huge building under construction.  He learned how to ‘butter’ a brick.  He became skilled at cutting the bricks for the end of the rows at doorways, arches, windows and corners.

He was delighted when he helped lay the intricate star patterns in the brick laid under each window.  As the summer progressed so did the completion of the building.  The Omaha Livestock Exchange building was a huge ‘H’ shaped building, twelve stories high.  The Italians constructed their scaffolding a level at a time, higher and higher, to lay the brick facade of the massive building.  Vito marveled at the pace of work and how the project started to resemble a new, modern building.  Vito knew at some point his job would end, either from completion of the brick laying phase or school starting in the fall.

  

      For the next three summers, Vito would work laying brick on construction projects in South Omaha.  The summer of 1928 would be his last, as he prepared to enter college.

Vito graduated from South Omaha High School and was eager to attend the University of Omaha.  He was excited about leaving the neighborhood and spending his days on the campus next to the sprawling Elmwood Park.  Vito walked home several evenings through South Omaha, encountering the many faces of his community.  Vito took for granted the diverse ideas and dynamics of the new home his father had chosen years ago.





     The neighborhood Salvatore had chosen to build the house and raise his kids in had developed its own unique ‘personality’.  The infusion of so many different nationalities all coming together under one flag had inspired not only competition in business but also gave rise to a blending of culture, patriotism for their new country and inevitably, politics.  Italian immigrants, eager to show their newly adopted country their worth and loyalty, were sensitive to the ramifications the infamous anti-American anarchists and convicted murderers, Sacco and Venzetti, had on their community.  After the pair of Italian immigrants had been found guilty of murder and robbery in the name of an anarchist revolution, young Italian men still argued for the anarchist cause and against the evils of capitalism.  Other young Italians dismissed the anarchist idea and expressed gratitude and pride in their ability to accumulate wealth and own property.



     A frequent visitor to the streets of South Omaha was Nana.  Nana was a grandmother and an advocate for immigrant and women’s rights.  Nana would distribute literature and address meetings of immigrants to encourage them to become politically involved in the community.  Nana’s daughter, Dodie, had just given birth to a baby boy.  The infant was named Marlon, after his father; Marlon Brando, Jr.  The Brando’s lived on 3^rd Street.  Isabella knew Dodie and had gone to see her in one of her many appearances at the community playhouse.  Dodie was friends with Mrs. Fonda, whose son Henry frequented the neighborhood and spoke of ambitions to be a radio personality.  Young Henry wanted to major in journalism and spoke out against the racism he saw against immigrants and blacks in Omaha. 



     Another son of Omaha was born over on Woolworth Street, in a three-story Victorian mansion.  He was born Leslie King, Jr., but after his mother divorced his father and moved to Michigan, he was renamed Gerald Ford, Jr. 



     The neighborhood was not without it’s critics.  Anti-immigrant organizations rallied against the rapid growth of the foreign population in South Omaha.  Threats against immigrant owned businesses were common and the occasional gang of thugs seeking to ambush an unwary foreigner on his way home was not unheard of.  Blacks in Omaha suffered racism and threats of lynching from angry white mobs.  On May 19, 1925, Malcolm Little was born in north Omaha, to Earl and Lois Little.  Earl Little was a black Baptist minister who spoke out against racism and was an advocate for black activist Marcus Garvey.  While Lois Little was pregnant with Malcolm, Klu Klux Klansmen came to the outspoken black minister’s home and threatened the family with shotguns.

Earl Little moved his family to escape the racist organization Black Legion, but was murdered in Lansing, MI.  His murderers were never found and his death was ruled and accident.  Young Malcolm would later change his name to Malcolm X and become one of America’s greatest black leaders. 

    

     Mexican immigrants found their way to South Omaha and added to the community.  Political upheaval and the Mexican Revolution that started in 1910 and lasted until 1920 forced the northward migration of entire families from Mexico.  Many Mexican families came to Nebraska to cultivate the fertile black soil.  Mexicans brought knowledge of farming and irrigation to an already thriving agricultural community.  The Mexicans also knew the value of the railroad to a farming community.  Nebraska and particularly Omaha, were well supplied with the iron tracks and depots where Mexican farmers could take their crops to be shipped to the buyers in the bigger cities.  The Diocese of Omaha embraced the strong traditional Catholics into their churches.  The Catholic Church tutored several different classes in English to immigrants who spoke Spanish, Italian, Czech, and a variety of languages. 



     Many immigrants accepted the racism against blacks as part of the American culture.  Others rejected racism based on their own experiences with hatred from the indigenous population of Nebraskans who saw immigrants as a threat to their way of life.  Everybody came from somewhere and laid claim to the land and city.  The populations at the bottom of this racial hierarchy, and who was already here, and for who the city was named were the Omaha Indians who lived eighty miles north of the city.  The Omaha had a small presence in the big city and rarely lived for long periods among the diverse population south of their reservation. 



          While young Vito labored at after school jobs, other young Americans sought to pursue fame and fortune in the orchestra pits of Broadway in New York City.  1926 America enjoyed Broadway shows like ‘Strike up the Band’ and ‘Girl Crazy’.  In the pit bands, aspiring musicians Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, and Gene Krupa played in the show’s orchestra.  The three young men had visions of greatness and fame as they made the musicians circuit in New York.  Miller and Krupa crossed the ‘race line’ and recorded with black musicians in 1929.  Miller and Krupa recorded with Pee Wee Russell, Eddie Condon, and Coleman Hawkins on jazz recordings with the Mound City Blue Blowers.  Miller and Krupa would recall in later years that they thought these sessions were among their best free-lance work in their careers.  1926 was the year a young couple in Chicago, the Hefner’s, gave birth to a son.  They named him Hugh.

The Military Asks the Mob to Whack an Anti-War Protest singer: From my novel Wild Indians

4

The American public was being indoctrinated into pop culture through a variety of media genera.  Elvis Presley had seduced teenagers and shocked parents with his sexuality and black sound.  The Beatles knocked Presley off the charts with their Beatle haircuts and clean new sound.  British bands dominated the hit charts on AM radio.  Black artists like the Supremes, Wilson Pickett and Sam and Dave were as popular with white teens as they were with black teenagers.  World War II propaganda movies were losing ground to B movie science fiction films.  James Bond 007 movies introduced evil criminal masterminds who attempted to impose their conspiratorial agendas on the world.  Harper Lee’s novel, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ was being read in 9th grade English classes.  The Rev. Martin Luther King was advancing the Civil Rights Movement with his peaceful marches and sit-ins.  Whites across the United States were empathetic with Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat to a white man on a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1955. Or fearful, ten years later, of an all-out race war in the United States.  The war in Vietnam was escalating, fueling a growing anti-war culture anthem delivered in the songs of folk singers and rock bands.  Pop media markets were associated with anti-war themes by the recording artists who influenced popular culture.  The older generation who fought World War II was at odds with their children who were being told in the music and pop culture media, to reject their parent’s values.  America was changing in many ways; some gradual, some turbulent and violent.  

     A young folk singer from Pennsylvania was breaking into the folk music scene with his anti-war songs.  His simple acoustic guitar playing complimented by a harmonica provided the accompaniment for his sharp and witty lyrics condemning the American way of life, politics and the civil rights movement.  Lenny Gold was strumming and singing his way onto the charts  

of AM radio.  The young folk singer was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  His father had been a bus driver who died when Lenny was ten.  His mother raised three sons and a daughter working as a waitress.  Lenny never attended college.  He left home at the age of eighteen with an acoustical guitar and a knap sack.  The kid had a talent for verbalizing in song the stories of working class Americans who struggled to survive while corrupt politicians and millionaires ignored the poverty and plight of the nation’s poor and minorities.  Lenny found an audience in New York’s Greenwich Village where his songs gained an immediate following.  Beatnik poets and college intellectuals flocked to Village coffee houses to listen to Lenny tell his stories in song.  A recording contract with a major label, seeking to exploit the nation’s new found love of folk music, came within of year of Lenny’s first performance in Greenwich Village.  Lenny recorded three folk albums is succession over a period of 18 months.  He changed the sound of his music by recording his fourth album playing an electric guitar and a backup band.

    Folk purists denounced the new sound as Lenny selling out to the AM radio big money market.  Lenny’s new sound propelled his songs to the top of the AM radio charts.  His songs were in the top ten, listed alongside hits by the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Supremes, and the Byrds.  The young folk singer from Pennsylvania sold the image of a pure, incorruptible counter-culture warrior whose weapon was his searing commentary on contemporary American life put to song.  Behind the scenes, nothing could be farther from the truth.

     Lenny Gold had a vision when he left Philadelphia.  Lenny’s vision was to amass wealth and fame.  He had found a niche in popular music. He fully intended to exploit his fame to its fullest.  He carefully oversaw the production of his music.  Everything must sound pure, authentic, and not over produced by slick studio technicians.  His album covers were carefully created to portray the singer as a simple young man, void of trendy fashions or any hint of commercial pop marketing.  Within the tight knit culture of the recording industry, Lenny was known for his temper tantrums and rage directed at marketing executives and production teams who violated the young singer’s concept as how he wanted to be marketed to his fans.  He hired an attorney who shrewdly negotiated lucrative recording deals for him.  Lenny was selling his anti-American, anti-capitalist image to the public while amassing great wealth utilizing the very corporate culture he demonized in song.  Recording industry executives, attorneys, and Lenny all had a good laugh at how gullible the record buying public was.  The one entity who was a convenient target of many of Lenny’s songs was the U.S. Government, who wasn't laughing. 

      Lenny’s anti-American/anti-military lyrics were showing up on hand

made signs at anti-war rallies.  The singer’s image and lyrical content were seen as adding extra fuel to an already embarrassing situation for President Johnson’s escalation of the war in Vietnam and the expanding war time economy.  War was good business for the American economy.  Lenny Gold’s music was good business for the recording industry.  And here’s where the military and the recording industry came into conflict.  Many of the big record labels owned factories that produced more than records.  The record companies also produced plastic and hard rubber military hardware.  The recording industry was making as much from their military contracts as they were from their record sales.  In their plastic factories they produced the stocks for M-16 and M-60 automatic rifles, the hard plastic nose cones for rockets, missiles and bombs, and tens of thousands of other plastic components the military needed for equipment and weapons.  While the recording industry could live with Lenny Gold’s hypocrisy, the military could not.  The Joint Chiefs of Staff, at the direction of President Johnson, wanted Lenny Gold gone.  The record company that had Lenny’s contract refused to buckle under pressure from the military and the President.  Heated exchanges between the military and the label accomplished nothing.  Lenny Gold was still pumping out hits with his radical anti-America lyrics and raking in millions for the recording industry.  His concerts were sold out across the nation.  He was becoming the face and voice of the anti-war movement in America. 

     The military threatened to move their military plastic hardware contracts to cheaper factories overseas or in Mexico.  Their threat to the record companies was simple; get rid of Lenny Gold or loose the military contracts.  They threatened not only the label that carried Lenny Gold, but all big labels that also produced plastic hardware for the U.S. military.  The military guys figured that if one label dropped Gold, another would simply snatch him up and nothing would change.  The military had the record companies by the balls.  The record companies complained they couldn’t just drop Lenny.  They had entered into a contract with the singer that would open them up to millions in lawsuits if they dropped the singer.  There was one clause in Lenny’s contract; the death clause.  The record company would be released from the terms of Lenny’s contract should he die unexpectedly.  They were only committed to pay his royalties to his surviving family members should he meet an untimely death.  And who better to call for the untimely death of Lenny Gold than the Mafia.  The record companies and the military were both in bed with the Mafia on different levels.  The Mafia prevented union organizers from creating problems for both sides of the Lenny Gold conflict.  The Mafia made pain-in-the-ass state labor laws go away.  The Mafia got smaller plastic shops to give the military a good deal on contracts while getting their cut in the negotiations.  It made perfect sense to the military guys to bring the Mafia in to take care of

the Lenny Gold problem. 

     Lenny was on tour.  He was billed in big cities and on college campuses across the United States.  The call to take out Lenny went to Sammy Giacalone in Chicago.  Lenny was playing a concert in Chicago in a few weeks.  Giacalone kicked the idea around, but backed off when the Chicago police released a press statement about the heavy security they planned for the folk singer while he was in Chicago.  Other cities were considered, but many had problems with race riots or union strikes and didn’t want the added headaches of a police investigation into the murder of a celebrity in their city.  Sammy sent a message to Jimmy Screws, asking him if he would do the job at one of Lenny’s concert dates in Lincoln, Nebraska.  Jimmy complained about all he had on his plate in his response to Sammy.  Sammy said he thought he could get a million dollars from the military guys in payment for the hit.  Jimmy thought about it and decided, hell, why not?  A million bucks for a hit; he couldn’t pass that up. Omaha didn’t have any big plastic factories making stuff for the military.  The Fraccacreta family didn’t have any direct ties to the record companies.  Jimmy really didn’t have anything to loose.  Lenny’s Gold murder would just be another unsolved crime the cops would fumble with for a year or so and then file it away in the unsolved stack of crimes.  Jimmy sent a message back to Sammy he’d do it.  Sammy sent another message back to Jimmy; there was one hitch.  President Johnson wanted Lenny Gold to be killed on stage, while he was performing.  It was just a personal touch the President insisted on since he felt he was the one essentially paying for the hit.

     Jimmy dropped the Lenny Gold hit in Orfia’s lap.  Orfia considered a number of ways to take out a controversial celebrity on stage in front of thousands of people.  He thought about rigging a heavy light rack hanging out of sight above the singer to drop on Gold while he was performing.  Orfia knew such an accident would open a torrent of lawsuits.  There was too much liability to the Fraccacreta family who ran the Lincoln Civic Auditorium through layers of buffers.  Orfia decided if the hit had to go down while Gold was on stage, then it would have to be done with a shot from the crowd.  Orfia sent a couple of his guys to Boston to see a Lenny Gold concert.  Gold’s Omaha concert was six weeks away.  Orfia watched newsreels of Gold arriving at airports, being mobbed by fans, and some footage of him performing.  There was an element of fan hysteria in the audience in front of the stage but nothing as intense as Beatlemania, with female fans literally fainting in the audience while the rest of audience was screaming and going nuts.  Orfia decided he would have a shooter take out Gold from the audience.  Orfia feared a sniper firing from the ceiling of the auditorium or from the very back would be easily captured by the Lincoln police providing security at the concert.  He opted for

recruiting a local criminal wanna-be who wanted to be made by the Fraccacreta family.  The family was always dealing with small time hoods who thought they were mob material.  Orfia wanted the most persistent, weasel faced, punk who would do anything to get into the Fraccacreta family.  A guy like that wouldn’t be hard to find. 

     Arty Schmoltz was the guy.  Arty was a literal pain-in-the-ass-do-anything-wanna-be-hood who desperately wanted to be a Fraccacreta wise guy.   He was 29 years-old, young enough to be a fan of Gold’s music. Arty could never be a made guy in the Mafia.  He wasn’t Italian or Sicilian.  Arty was a heroin addict.  He was dumb as a post and most importantly, he was expendable.  Other than hanging around some of the Fraccacreta bars and being a general nuisance, Arty had no direct ties to the family.  The small time hood’s arrest record chronicled a young man’s life of addiction, small time crimes and time in jail.  Orfia puts out the word to bait Schmoltz and get him ready for the hit on Gold.  Lenny Gold’s Omaha concert was now 5 weeks away.

     Schmoltz gets a crash course on how to be a gangster in 1965.  Orfia’s guys start to take a ‘liking’ to Arty.  They buy him a few drinks and make him feel like he’s finally crossed that unseen barrier of being ‘let inside’ the tight knit clique of Fraccacreta soldiers.  There were a few guys who weren’t in the family that were regulars and friends of the Fraccacreta mob.  Arty had finally arrived.  On the third night of drinking with Orfia’s guys, he was taken to a back room and given a couple suits like the ones the real wise guys were wearing.  The next day he shows up wearing the suit, black sunglasses and a new haircut. Arty had light blond hair and looked more like an undertaker than a wise guy.  Orfia’s guys gave him a couple of pairs of shiny, black dress shoes to complete the wise guy look. They gave him a couple of dime bags of heroin ‘on the house’. After a week of hanging out with the guys, Arty went to a warehouse where he fired a .38 revolver with his new friends.  The wise guys were drinking beer and target practicing with their hand guns.  Arty fired the handgun at a target at 20 feet.  The wise guys instructed him on how to shoot and actually hit what he was aiming at.  Arty was in wanna-be heaven.  He had finally made it.  He was living the life of a gangster even though he wasn’t Italian and hadn’t been made an official Fraccacreta family member.

   Gold’s Lincoln concert was now three weeks away.  Orfia had Arty brought into the ‘L’ Street office.  He was led to an empty chair across from Orfia’s desk. Arty Schmoltz had never been in Orfia’s ‘L’ Street office before.  He knew this was the Fraccacreta capo’s center of operations.  Arty sat alone in the office.  He was nervous yet excited at being inside the office.  He waited

a few moments alone sitting in front of Orfia’s desk.  He heard a door opening at the rear of the office.  Mr. Orfia, the new Fraccacreta capo appeared in the doorway, closed the door behind him and walked over to Arty.  Arty stood up, instinctively knowing that he should stand in the presence of the family’s capo. Orfia extended his hand to Arty.

“Thank you for coming,” Orfia said.  Arty didn’t know what to say. 

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” was all Arty could think of to say.

     Orfia walked around his chair behind his desk and sat down.  Orfia leaned over his desk and motioned for Arty to move his chair in closer.  Orfia took Arty into his confidence on an operation the family was putting together.  Orfia explained that all Fraccacreta wise guys had to prove themselves to the family before being considered for indoctrination into the organization.  Arty was silent.  He was listening and not yapping his head off for probably the first time in his adult life.  Orfia asked Arty if he was interested in doing this one thing for the Fraccacreta family.  Orfia said he would personally make a recommendation to the Fraccacreta don, Jimmy Screws that Arty be made a family member, if he did this one favor for the family.  This was the first time the don of the family had been mentioned.  Arty was silent for a moment.  His dream of being a Mafia wise guy was coming true.

“I have a question,” Arty asked Orfia.

“What’s that?” Orfia asked.

“How can I be made a family member if I’m not Italian?” Arty asked.

“We did some checking into your family tree,” Orfia answered.  He was lying, but he knew anything he said that sweetened the offer would be readily accepted by Arty as fact.

“You’re parents both have Italian roots from northern Italy,” Orfia said.  Arty remained silent.

“Yeah, you have enough Italian blood to qualify for being a made man,” Orfia said.

“What about my last name?  It’s not Italian,” Arty said.

“You’re great grandfather’s mother’s last name was Rossi.  She was from

Isonzo.   She married a guy name Schmoltz from Hungary.  We’ll change your last name to Rossi.  We can do that to get you in.  You okay with that?” Orfia asked Arty.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine with me,” Arty said.

“Okay, don’t worry about the blood thing.  We got that covered.  You’ll need some walking around cash.  Will five-thousand get you by until we do the ceremony in 4 or 5 weeks?” Orfia asked.  Arty had never had more than a thousand dollars to his name.  His mind was racing with the implications of being a Fraccacreta soldier.  He thought if the family was willing to lay five grand on him until he was officially in the family, then he must be looking at a lot more money once he was a made man, a real wise guy.

“Yeah, five grand will be good.  Thank you Mr. Orfia,” Arty answered.  Orfia took an envelope out of his desk and slide it across the desk to Arty.  Arty didn’t reach out for the envelope.  He was unsure what he should do.

“Go ahead, take it kid.  There will be more once you get officially made,” Orfia said.  Arty took the envelope and held it in his hands. 

“This is what we need done,” Orfia said.  Arty didn’t say anything.  He was both scared and excited.  He was thinking that whatever the family needed to be done, he would do it.  He would do whatever Mr. Orfia wanted him to do.

“You know who Lenny Gold is?” Orfia asked.

“Yeah, he’s a big star.  I hear his songs on the radio,” Arty said.

“Good.  You’re a smart kid.  I knew you were the right guy for this deal,” Orfia said.

“Whatever you need, Mr. Orfia.  I’ll do whatever you need done,” Arty said.

“Good, here’s what we want.  We want you to clip Gold at his Lincoln concert in three weeks.  Can you handle that?” Orfia asked.  Arty was so hyped with the money and being in Orfia’s office that he answered immediately without thinking.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Arty answered. 

“Good.  Keep this under your hat. No one outside of the family can know

about this.  Got it?” Orfia said.

“Got it, Mr. Orfia,” Arty answered. 

“Good.  The guys will set up the hit for you.  It’s an in and out deal.  You pull the trigger and sixty seconds later you’re out in the protection of your friends.  You’ll be fine,” Orfia said.

“Okay.  I can do this thing.  You won’t be disappointed Mr. Orfia,” Arty said.

“I know I won’t.  I think I picked the right guy.  You mind if we call you Arty Rossi from now on?” Orfia asked Arty.  Arty’s head was spinning.  He’d walked in the office a civilian named Schmoltz.  He’d walk out Arty Rossi, a guy waiting to made by the Fraccacreta crime family.

“No, Mr. Orfia.  I’m proud to go by the name Rossi,” Arty said. 

“Okay.  It’s a done deal,” Orfia said.  He stood and offered his hand to Arty.  Arty stood and took Orfia’s hand.  Orfia clasped Arty’s hand with both of his.

“Rossi,” Orfia said.  Arty didn’t know what to say.  He just stood there letting the Fraccacreta capo hold his hand and call him by his new Italian surname.

“Guys, come escort Rossi out,” Orfia called out.  Two of Orfia’s wise guys came through the door in the back of the office.  They walked up to Arty.  Orfia released Arty’s hand.

“You won’t be sorry, Mr. Orfia,” Arty said.

“I know kid.  Guys, take Rossi out and show him a good time,” Orfia said.

“Sure, boss,” one of the wise guys said.  The wise guys, both smiling, slapped Arty on the back and headed for the door.

“Come on, Rossi,” the wise guy said. “Let’s go get you laid and have a good time.”

     The two wise guys walked out of Orfia’s office with Arty.  Arty Schmoltz, AKA Arty Rossi, and taken the bait.  Orfia thought to himself, what a dumb shit.  Arty spent the rest of the day and that night enjoying the services of prostitutes, courtesy of the Fraccacreta family.  After a steak dinner at

Ross’s steakhouse in Omaha, Arty sat in on a high stakes poker game, run by the Fraccacreta family, where he lost three of the five thousand Orfia had given him.  What did he care?  In a few weeks he’s be rolling in dough as Arty Rossi, a wise guy in the Fraccacreta crime family. 

     Arty was given a 1960 red Cadillac to drive around in style until he had enough money to buy a new one.  He hung out with wise guys almost 24 hours a day.  While he thought he was inside the world of Omaha wise guys, he was actually being watched constantly until the night of the hit.   Orfia wanted him in the company of wise guys to ensure Arty didn’t blow this thing before the night of the Gold concert.

     The night of Lenny Gold’s Lincoln concert arrived.  Gold stayed at the Cornhusker Hotel in downtown Lincoln, a few blocks away from the Civic Auditorium where he would be performing.  Gold was given the entire 5th floor for one night. Lincoln police provided security for the singer.  Screaming fans greeted Lenny at the airport.  There were hundreds of hysterical fans on the street in front of the Cornhusker Hotel.  Lenny had to be surrounded by a group of private body guards and police that rushed him into the hotel through a crowd of screaming and yelling fans.  Lenny Gold had arrived in Nebraska. 

     The concert was scheduled to begin at 7 P.M.  The Lincoln police had a wooden rail barricade on the auditorium floor in front of the stage.  On Lenny’s instructions, there would be no security or police standing in front of the stage where he could see them.  Lenny would perform on the stage about ten feet above the auditorium floor. A local group named the Coachmen played first.  After the Coachmen played for about 30 minutes, folk singer Barry McGuire did a set.  Then the crowd braced themselves with excited anticipation of the great Lenny Gold.  The lights dimmed after McGuire finished and stage hands hurriedly set up Lenny’s equipment.  An unseen announcer’s voice came over the auditorium P.A. system. 

“Let’s have a big Lincoln welcome for Lenny Gold!” the announcer boomed to the crowd.  The fans went crazy as Lenny Gold walked out onto stage as the lights came on.  Thousands of flash bulbs created a sea of blinding mini-bursts of brilliant light as fans photographed the star from the auditorium floor.  Lenny immediately started playing one of his hits, “Whose Gonna’ Know My Name”.  The crowd rushed forward to the area in front of the stage.  In the crowd was Arty Rossi.  Arty was dressed like a college student.  He wore a navy blue ‘P’ coat, blue jeans and a black stocking cap.  He blended in with the rest of the fans in the crowd.  He had been told to take out Lenny Gold by getting as close as possible to get a good line of fire.  He was being jostled 

by the crowd of screaming fans, waving their hands and arms in the air.  Lenny Gold finished his first song and immediately launched into his second song. 

     Arty was right in front of Lenny Gold, about 30 feet away.  He had the .38 revolver in the pocket of the ‘P’ coat.  He positioned himself between two female fans that were waving and screaming at Lenny Gold.  Lenny sang and played his electric guitar, accompanied by his backup band.  Lenny was winking and playing the crowd from the stage.  He scanned the crowd for attractive young women he might take back to his hotel room after the concert.  He took a couple of female fans back to his room after every concert.  Lincoln would be no different.

     Arty Rossi pulled the .38 out of his pocket, stepped up to the barricade, pointed the gun at Lenny Gold and pulled the trigger.  He fired three times.  Lenny Gold was hit in the throat, the chest and one round impacted his Fender Stratocaster guitar.  He collapsed on stage in front of thousands of fans.  Arty Rossi fired his gun and immediately headed back into the crowd.  Arty let the gun drop out of his hand as he was instructed to do by his wise guy friends. He was pulling the ‘P’ coat off when he was grabbed from behind.  Arty’s mind was racing.  Where were his wise guy friends?  He was told to make the hit and 60 seconds later he’d be safe in the company of wise guys.  He went down under the weight of an assault of enraged fans.  Someone found the gun he had dropped.  While Lenny Gold lay on the stage, surrounded by police and stage hands, Arty Rossi was being pummeled on the floor of the auditorium.  As the Fraccacreta sacrificial gunman lay on the floor under a pile of hysterical and enraged fans, the hand with the gun jabbed it into Arty’s ribs and pulled the trigger.  The bullet entered Arty’s right side, blowing a hole in his lung and lodging in his heart.  He was dead ten seconds after the unseen shooter fired into his body.  Whoever shot Arty disappeared into the chaos on the auditorium floor.  The .38 revolver lay on the floor in a pool of Arty Rossi’s blood. Lenny Gold lay dead on the stage.  Arty was dead on the auditorium floor.  The police were making their way through the crowd.  They had no idea where the shooter was.  They were throwing and shoving fans out of the way, forcing their way through the panicked crowd to an area where some sort of fight was taking place.  The announcer’s voice was telling fans to remain calm and head for the exits. 

     The Lenny Gold problem had been taken care of.  Jimmy Screws would share a million dollars with Sammy Giacalone for the hit.  The President’s request to have the radical anti-American singer murdered on stage was honored.  Gold’s murder would go down in rock history.  Hundreds of fans had captured the moment of the murder with their Kodak Brownie cameras.  There was one photographer who worked for the local newspaper, the Lincoln Journal, that captured the gun being held by a young man in the front row.  Lenny Gold’s murder was documented in hundreds of black and white photos for prosperity.  Arty Schmoltz was eventually identified as the murderer of Lenny Gold.  Schmoltz was described in the papers as a loner and heroin addict with a long history of arrests.  He had been killed by his own weapon, either by a fan or accidentally shooting himself in the fray on the auditorium floor.  Case closed.