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Self Portrait
©Nourhan Refaat Maayouf
All rights reserved. My work is not to be edited, distributed, sold or uploaded anywhere without my written permission.
{telling me a joke after his shower}
my favorite portrait crop is square. something good about it, no?
oh...and i know...one post a day, but i couldn't hold back on this one after i processed. he's just so cute (says his biased momma).
For SW Factions. Mato has a moment of clarity, and makes a choice.
Story below:
“Take the woman before the Hutt Lords.”
It was a death sentence. He had carried it out before.
His life was three things: putrid smells, fear of death, and orders from the Hutts. Mostly orders to kill.
He had killed people for talking back. He had killed people for failing Baga’s orders. He had even killed other enforcers, when the Hutts demanded entertainment during dinner. And now he would probably have to kill this woman.
The girl walked proudly in front of him. She was some sort of spy, trying to undermine the Hutts. He shook his head; he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She’d gotten in over her head.
“Have you lived on Nal Hutta long?”
The young woman’s question came out casual, almost flippant. Before he realized what he was doing, he stammered a reply.
“My whole life,” he said, then he corrected himself, twisting his weathered face into a snarl. “. . . Shut up and keep walking!”
The girl kept walking, but she kept talking too.
“My name is Yigs. I’m from a planet called Wayland. It’s beautiful there. The rain is fresh, there’s cool breezes . . . nothing like this toilet. You should see it, if you get the chance.” She frowned back, a sympathetic look that startled him. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck here.”
He growled. “There’s nothing to see. Nal Hutta is where the Hutt Lords rule. It’s an honor to even be in the same system.”
Even as he said it, he thought of his quarters. Swamp water pooling on the floor from the drain overhead. The smell of garbage rising from under the door. He had to keep a constant eye on his stained blankets, otherwise they’d be stolen. You couldn’t trust anyone. But that was just the way life was.
“You don’t even know, do you? You’ve never seen anything better than this stinkhole.”
He was silent.
She went on. “That’s why I’m here. There’s so many beautiful worlds out there, but they’re being ruined by the Hutts. People are free, and happy. They laugh at jokes and watch the sunrise. They have friends.”
The Weequay snarled. “Friends. Useless.”
“Hah!” her laugh was clear, strong. She wasn’t afraid, even though she must have known what was ahead for her. “Have you ever had a friend?”
It wasn’t condescending. She meant it.
He grumbled a non-committal answer, then said, “You should shut up. The Hutt Lords want a word with you. You can talk then.”
“What’s your name?”
“What?”
“What do people call you?”
“. . . Enforcer,” he joked, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Or wrinkle-head. Leatherskin. Sometimes just trash. Take your pick.”
“What did your parents call you? You had parents, right?”
What was he doing, talking to this dead woman? She was getting into his head. He’d be lashed if anyone heard them.
“Mato,” he heard himself say.
“Mato,” she said, her voice full of a fire and surety and fierceness he’d only seen in the Hutts themselves. But there was something else there that the slugs never had; genuine care. He figured either she had never had a boot on her neck, or she threw it off the moment it was placed there. Both boggled his mind.
“Give me your blaster,” she said seriously. “I can get us both out of here. I can get you to free skies, to friendly people. You don’t have to serve the slugs.”
He felt something new, bright, and frightening rising in his chest. He tried to push it away. “You’re a slave,” he spat. “What could you possibly do?”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’re a slave. And I’m going to free you.”
“No,” he said again, and his voice gave out. “Even if you could, I’ve . . . done too much. No one wants to help a Hutt enforcer.”
A sad smile twisted her mouth. “Really? I’m helping you right now, and you’ll probably have to kill me soon.” She caught his gaze, which had been set dully on the floor.
“Please, Mato,” she said. “Give me your gun, and I promise to get us both out of here.”
When he met her eyes, he was suddenly shocked with clarity. It was a moment of destiny, like a waking dream, where he saw two courses of life stretch forward. One was a stream of steaming swamp water. It was killing for the Hutts, eventually dying alone.
The other was what he imagined clean water might look like. He’d heard it was blue. That stream was helping the girl. With her, either he would die, or he would be free. No more Hutts. No more orders. No more slime.
When he compared the two streams, what did he have to lose? All he had to do was trust. To put his life in someone else’s hands. Could he do that?
He’d seen her fire. The light in her eyes. The care in her voice. Unlike anything he’d ever seen or heard.
He undid her cuffs, unbuckled his holster, pulled his blaster, and held it out to her.
“I hate the Hutts. I hate this killing. I’m done,” he snarled. “I choose the blue water.”
She nodded.
He felt sweat roll down his temple. He’d been so sure of his choice, but now there was no going back. “W-What now?” he asked.
She primed the blaster. A reassuring grin—confident, but not cocky—played on her face.
“Now, Mato, we ditch this place forever.”
He tried to smile back, but he was too nervous. He took a deep breath, and hefted his vibroaxe.
“Okay,” he exhaled, and nodded. “Okay.”
They turned to face the fight ahead. He felt so much better that she was in it with him.
Was this what having a friend was like? It was a brand new feeling. And he had a sneaking suspicion—though it was still just a hunch—that she wouldn’t even try to steal his blankets when he wasn’t looking.
Life would be different from now on.
Part 2 is here: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/178764-s...
sentenced to the pillory (Yddrasil festival; credit "Les infâmes des rives du temps" infamesdesrdt.wixsite.com/oyez)
A mosaic of images from the One Letter group, arranged by luminance & color.
Image created in Perl using the Flickr API and ImageMagick.
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Text: Lewis Carroll, "Jabberwocky"
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More stuff by jbum:
To see details in this drawing, try the largest image size...
The weather was hot, the creeks were spring fed and cold.
There was a BLUE MOON at this gathering! I wrote a long story about our trip, full of run-on-sentences. No names were changed to protect the innicent. All facts are just my opinions. I am not a journalist. Here is the story....
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Rainbow Recollections
1996 Missouri
"Who fears today
His rites to pay
Deserves his chains to wear.
The forest's free!
This wood take we,
and straight a pile prepare.
Yet in the wood
To stay 'tis good
By day till all is still.
With watchers all around us placed
Protecting you from ill.
With courage fresh, then,
Let us haste
Our duties to fulfill......" - Goethe
My daughter Skater (aka: Pixie, Shine, age 13) and I had a grand time at the Missouri Rainbow. We arrived Sunday June 23 and left July 3, and those were 11 magical days! Our drive in was 12 hours, and started with thunderstorms and a downburst in central Illinois that forced us off the road near Springfield. Big booming lightning! Old Mother Nature's power chords! Ba-BOOM!! Ka-Pow!!!!!
We got in about 1 am, drove right past FS road 3173 in the dark. Whoops! When we hit Thomasville we turned around and headed back north. Right exactly at 3 miles on the odometer from Thomasville there was FS #3173 off to the right. We drove on in quietly without seeing a single cop. There was the big green and yellow "Welcome Home" banner and a quiet group with a lone drummer singing and pounding out his heartsongs. We parked in the dark fog and decided to get some sleep in our old pickup until the sunrise. Just before dawn it rained hard for about 45 minutes, and that made the air smell clean and sweet! :)
We got up and meandered through the parking lot and met a lot of kind folks at the front gate. Out in the lot we met Katie and Brian and Althea (shy white Siberian husky puppy with pretty blue eyes) in the green bubbletop "Save the Buses" bus from Chicago. We also shared munchies and explored with Funky (Matt) and Shannon in the green VW camper bus, and met Victor and Kevin. At dawn we started packing for the hike in towards Kiddie Village where we would set up our camp.
It was nearly 3 miles to Kiddie Village. The first mile was dry and hot, then we started crossing the streams and it was like heaven to stop and play in that cold water. There was a steep incline down to the first stream, too steep for bikes to ride, but not too steep for horses. Spring creek was it's name, filled with tadpoles and there were lovely Spicebush and Pipevine Swallowtail butterflies hovering about the banks.
The second creek crossing had MARVELOUS sand!! SO nice on bare feet! The White Dove kitchen settled here and had the secret luxury of a hidden beautiful white portable shitter with a lid. "Pixie" was a frequent stopper at White Dove and we kept their secret close to the vest. Up the hill from the "good sand" crossing was the first clearing, a beautiful meadow with five tipis. The path here was named Hanuman Highway.
The main path crossed Spring Creek again and opened onto the big meadow with main fire circle and C.A.L.M. and good water piped from underground springs. We drank copious amounts of the spring water for 11 days with no problem. Our friend Question Mark happily spent his time filtering the water for anyone patient enough to get that extra protection. The pipe system evolved and grew with the gathering, so that eventually you were always close to a source of underground spring fed clean drinking water. We give an A+ to all who hauled pipe and ran samples for tests. GREAT water is such a luxury! :)
The next creek crossing had a pipe with roaring spring water you could shower in! Fill up the canteens! No waiting! Cold clean showers! The bridge there was called H20 bridge or Rainbow Bridge, and the crossing was called "Copperhead Crossing" after a snake was sighted in the water by some shady bushes. The original location of C.A.L.M. was to the right just after H20 Bridge. Continuing up, the main path was called Son Dance Trail and opened onto another fine meadow.
At the end of the meadow on the left side was Kiddie Village, which eventually grew to a City of Wonder! We parked our camp halfway twixt original C.A.L.M. and Kiddie Village, up into the shade of the tree line in the raspberry bushes by a big broken tree. Flattening out a place for our sleeping tent we ate juicy raspberries as we stomped. There was poison ivy everywhere so we sacrificed a shade tarp to cover the ground for safe lounging and relaxing. We set up a second small dome tent for all our gear and food and clothes and schtuff. We were on the map, had our own gnome home at home!
Pixie donated a pile of her old Golden Books to Kiddie Village. She talked with the smaller kids while I helped a crew installing support poles and guy ropes for that immense circus-tent-sized tarp for the main play area. I was amazed how four folks could hold a 25' ladder firmly in the air while another person climbed fearlessly to the top to adjust rope connections. The kids were having a blast here! There were four teeter-totters and the kids had figured how to "launch" each other, so the adults were trying to calm their butts down. Then we gravitated over to Kiddie C.A.L.M. where she helped Pat take care of several kids. One had poison oak all around his eyes.
Water and Flame were the main healers at Kiddie C.A.L.M., but Pat and the Swedish Bitters woman also put in huge hours there. Pat's dog Gaia was hilarious to play stick with. Gaia would plunge pell mell into high thick weeds and come out in a nanosecond with the very same stick you'd thrown. We trudged back to parking and got a second load of supplies that day. We donated a lot of apple juice and zuzu drink (cola) and that made for heavy loads to haul.
We learned to linger in the shade. In the stretches of sun it was best to conserve energy and keep moving towards the shade. We drank constantly from our canteens and often poured as much on our heads as we put in our mouths. We quickly learned all the places we could get water and paced our water consumption accordingly. It was close to 100 degrees everyday, and only rained one other time just before dawn for about two hours (July 2nd). Two pack loads in one day (and setting up the camp) wore us out, so we collapsed at sunset and slept with rainbow dreams. The Missouri whippoorwills sang us to sleep.
The next morning we found our Lovin' Touch kitchen up in the trees on the hillside in the shade. The big sign said "Kitten Safety Zone, All Dogs On Leashes!" and we met Grace, who had three kittens and a full grown cat! Grace told us how she and Steps had come in on June 10th and started Lovin' Touch in a shady patch of poison ivy. They knew where to find the good spring water, and they brought in a reporter from the West Plains Daily Quill. Grace opened her trunk and showed us the beautiful photo of the start of Lovin' Touch kitchen that made the front page of the June 13th Quill, along with an excellent article. Great public relations!!
Steps gave us the best hugs of the gathering and Piper played his didgeridu, and Lizard had made some great pancakes with apples and strawberries in them. This was OUR kitchen! I helped Justin chop wood and Pixie found every cat and dog in the area and gave em all hello hugs! There was a big tie-dye of a pot frond and hammocks strung all over. John was reciting poetry in the corner and Buddy Paul floated in with his beautiful cutaway Applause guitar and just let anyone play away on it.
The next morning we went to Copperhead Crossing for a shower and to splash in the stream and we met Nancy who was entering 6th grade in the fall. She was lugging around a big heavy bedroll. Pixie and Nancy became best friends instantly. I put her gear in my backpack and we trudged off to her mom's van back in A-camp, then came back to Kiddie Village. On the way they caught 50 tadpoles at the first creek crossing and had them all in a single drinking cup! Nancy slept about half the time in a hammock at Lovin' Touch. Nancy traded for two matching filigree rings and gave one to Pixie, and they changed their names to Sunshine. Pixie was Sun and Nancy was Shine. Nancy showed us where the kids were swinging off a rope into a deep cold spot in the creek. It was too cold for me, but the kids could stand it and had a great time!
There was also a swing/hammock for kids to swing in over the creek, and children's toys scattered about. The milk for Kiddie village was stored in the cold water, a natural refrigerator. Then came early dinner call at Kiddie Village! Many courses! Seconds and thirds for all who wanted!! Filled us up (yummy!) and we went off burping to the main circle to hear all the news and see how big the OM circle was getting. My best guess was two to three thousand at the site on our arrival June 23rd. When we left on Wednesday, July 3rd there were maybe 10,000 and it was growing every hour with the four day weekend approaching.
About Thursday, June 27th, Pixie patiently had sat through another evening main circle and eaten good Rainbow food. She went to her first "Sister Circle" with an older friend. The hot topic was the rape of a sister in A-camp. It turns out a young woman had gotten real drunk and been passed around and passed out. She wasn't with the girls discussing the hearsay at Sister Circle, she was already back getting loaded with those same brothers at A-camp who had taken advantage of her. The news I heard was that she was "consenting" until she passed out, but I wonder how could she consent while unconscious? A sorry story, but she apparently knew and stood by her rapist friends even afterwards. They were her drinking buds. A more tragic story was a pregnant 14 year old who miscarried at the Rainbow. I never met either woman, just passing on what I heard at the site.
The RUMORS on the computer newsgroup alt.gathering.rainbow (when I got home to read it) were really silly! The National Guard was not called out! No one was shot in A-camp. Hillbillies were NOT beating up hippies! The locals thought we were a godsend and treated us kindly with smiles! The police traffic checks were only for driver's license/insurance/registration. We passed in and out many times and most times there was no traffic check, or they just waved us by without stopping. Pixie did catch an ancient box turtle at the gathering, and had it in her lap on our way in when we were stopped. The Forest Service made her set the turtle free, it was a protected citizen of the Irish Wilderness!!
There were about 8 horse cops we met on the main trail and we learned the names of all the beautiful horses. Rebel Command and Ollie were our favorites. The riders were especially courteous, three women and five men, I think. There were about four FS cops on mountain bikes, and they ate a lot of dust from the cars on FS road 3173 going from the site to the police command location about 2 miles down the road. We stopped and greeted the FS and Dept. of Interior police we met and they were all friendly and kind. We even had a FS cop by A-camp get out of his jeep and paw through his supplies to find Pixie a Band-Aid for a finger cut.
One woman (who was a little crazed) climbed on top of a FS jeep and jumped up and down, denting the roof! And she wasn't arrested! Many were openly rude to the cops, calling out "Six UP!" or "Doughnut!!" as they went by. A select few chanted OM towards them. I always asked if all was well, and never heard any problems, although some were nervous and would say, "No problems .... yet!" I give the cops a C+, they are only human. We saw very little of them inside the real gathering, and only on the main trail, and always preceded by shouts of warning. I wish they would have stayed out of the church altogether and turned in their guns. HA!
The main trail crosses Spring Creek again to the right of Kiddie village, and heads upwards past the Animal Rainbow Family first aid for dogs and cats (Arf Arf!!) and Teen Village and Granola Funk Express kitchen. If you follow it all the way to the end there were three ropes tied across the trail and a sign that said "Turn around, Private property". Just before that sign, if you turned left, you could meander down to Cafe Cough Fee (Coffee Coffee) and find the best swimming spot of the gathering! Spring Creek is 12 feet deep here, fifty feet across, and cold cold COLD! The bank on the Coffee Coffee side is full of good mud and music all day. Those who can handle the cold water swim across and scramble up the rocky bank, and the adventurous climb up to dive off rock ledges 20 and 30 feet up.
There was a cave upstream to explore, and some kind souls left an inflatable raft for kids to paddle back and forth. Frisbees hummed back and forth as didgeridus droned and the mud people drew designs on themselves. This was a hopping swim hole! Musicians would gravitate in and stay for hours singing heavenly songs. We met Megan out by Coffee Coffee and she blew Pixie dust on Skater, then told her she was now a Pixie and had Pixie dust in her blood! That's when Skater changed her name to Sunshine Pixie, but she shortened it to Pixie later, and we got some gold glitter dust so she could turn others into Pixies. Skater was a glittering gold-dusted free spirit the last five days we were there. One bottle of glitter covers a LOT of people! :) Sparkling like star dust in the moonlight and sunshine!
Early in the gathering we met Steve and Cheyenne and their daughter. Steve was giving out water about the 1 mile point from A-camp at the end of a long dry path in the hot sun. Each day Steve and Foxfire (aka: Bridge Troll, Pegleg) went on a water run to Birch Tree and brought back water to give out at the water station, as well as "PowerBurst" electrolyte drink. Steve and Cheyenne also brought two riding horses and hung out a sign that read "Horse Camp". They brought a white horse (age 13) named Patches, and another spirited brown horse, both elegant females. Cheyenne took Pixie for a four hour horse ride one day, while I baby-sat their younger girl Kailey. Kailey was 15 months old and an energetic whirlwind. Kailey was born premature at only 1 pound and hydrocephalic, but was obviously doing well and happy to be at her first rainbow!
Cheyenne and Pixie washed the two horses and brushed them and got them water. Then they rode them down the steep path to the first creek for an hour or so and tried to get them to drink. Pixie rode the white horse, Patches. The brown horse drank some and had a coughing fit, Cheyenne thought maybe she had swallowed a tadpole! Then they went up into the first meadow and galloped around the tipis. They decided to take them all the way in to Kiddie Village and back.
In the main circle meadow they walked the horses through the big fire pit and really stirred up some ashes and dust. Then Pixie had to hold on as Patches decided to take off and run some around the main meadow, even leaping over some logs by where the wash station was later set up by the water people. Patches was the type of horse that needed to be ridden firm or whacked a bit with a stick to get going. Pixie was uncomfortable doing that, but she had a great time riding nonetheless. They rode through the thick fog of the gathering at sunset and came back after dark with the fireflies twinkling around them in the mist.
When they returned, Pixie had bowlegs and saddleburns and was worn out! That's when Cheyenne's stomach began to hurt a LOT! She tried some herbal cures from C.A.L.M. but nothing seemed to help. We all felt for her. She wound up going in to the hospital the next day before feeling better, and came back to the Gathering again. After her long ride Pixie volunteered to run the water station. It was dark and she was lit by a lantern and offered weary incoming travelers water or electrolytes or pixie dust. Just about everyone wanted pixie dust! A kind soul gave her a bag of little chocolate bars with the instructions to only give them to girls, but she gave them to everybody! We were given strawberries and watermelon and also changed Kailey's diaper twice! We stayed until after midnight, then closed down the water station and finally wandered back to our tent by the light of the big smiling moon.
One evening after main circle I went to wash our dishes while Pixie played hacky-sack with a group of teens. I met George while washing. His 12-string guitar was autographed by Peter Yarrow (of Peter Paul and Mary) and Stanley Jordan and Kenny Burrell and John Prine and Stevie Ray Vaughan's nephew Roy Vaughan, and about 40 others. He was from Austin and sang me a song he wrote about the Wyoming gathering... "on July 1st there was a fire, on July 2nd there was a fire, on July 3rd there was a fire, on July 4th there was a Raaaaaaainbow!" ...and as he sang the sunset disappeared quickly... where was Pixie?
The hacky-sack group was nowhere to be seen. I started looking for Pixie in her dark purple shirt. I circled the fire twice, the drummers were already roaring, a BIG crowd! I had lost her! I circled inside right next to the fire so Pixie could see me if she was there, I was wearing her giant red & black Dr. Suess hat. Night had come on in a hurry and it was too dark to see faces even up close. Being a parent is a wonderful thing, and I was VERY concerned. The gathering had grown to a sizable city. I wandered away from the fire and hollered out "Ska-a-a-a-a-aterrrrr!!!!" and she called out "Right here, Dad!" right under my feet! What a relief! After that I stuck with her like glue, and brought a white T-shirt for her to wear after main circle sunset!
That night Pixie wanted to stay by the fire, so we crept in close between the drummers and found two saxophone players and sat near them listening to the sounds. Pixie kept wanting to sit closer and closer to the fire and we wound up almost IN the fire! The fire tenders had to walk over us as they added logs, and we were well-done and roasted by the heat of the flames! All our clothes were covered in soot and the next day our throats were sore from breathing so much smoke! But we stayed right in the thick of the drums and dancers and hung in there until that blue moon finally went down behind the trees over the mountainside. Just before the moon disappeared she met her friend Eagle, they talked as the fire crackled and the dark night settled in around us. After about six hours at the main drum circle we crept back to the tent and brushed our teeth and slept.
All that night and most every night we visited the fire there was a big menacing dude like Big Daddy in sinister sunglasses with a shaved head. He apparently thought he was King of the Fire or something and would stop the drums and recite a short poem to tell us to listen to the birds or hear the spirits talk. He also threatened to shove the trombone up the ass of a trombone player! He also would occasionally give slices of sweet melon to everyone in the inner circle of the fire, and maybe also drinks of electric punch. He never bothered us, thank goodness, and Pixie was able to dust him with Pixie dust the last day we were there. Good work, Pixie! We always ended the day by brushing out teeth and started the day by brushing our teeth. We were probably the only two at the gathering that didn't have morning breath!
Three nights later it was a full blue moon! The main circle was filled with pomp and drama, lots of poetry and heartsongs and then a special OM circle where we all laid back and chanted to the sky while holding hands laying down! After the food there was a Rainbow Wedding and we got right up close to observe and take part! The crowd was swept up and chanting "HO!" as the couple exchanged vows and were blessed and covered with incense smoke and then there was a huge group hug and OM chant. Pixie had big stars in her eyes and she said, "Dad, I want a hippie wedding!"
They had piled up a huge pile of logs for the fire, and after the wedding it ROARED into life and there were tons of wild dancers circling the fire. Little blond 13 year-old Eagle came up with half his head shaved and the other half dyed bright green with braided dreads. He raced naked around the fire in circles leaping and cavorting! We were among the first to spot the moon's entrance over the hill, and the drumming soared with that big lunar energy! We hung in with the drums and the fire and wailed on our bells and trumpet and rhythm egg up till the moment of fullness at 10:58 pm, then meandered back listening for vampires and werewolves on the paths!
The full moon night, Pixie was asleep by midnight and I wanted to stay close to the tent but soak up some sounds of the gathering. About 50 feet away by the trail that leads to Lovin' Touch kitchen was a couple of flute players and a drummer that were jamming their asses off. Both flutists were singing and scatting into their flutes as they played, and throwing wild jazz riffs back and forth like two Johnny Heartsman clones with Roland Kirk egging them on! A person nearby with a laser light did a light show at their feet with that eerie flashing red light, and Piper wandered down from Lovin' Touch with his "D" wood flute and joined in.
This was the best music I heard at the gathering, these souls were on FIRE! I nestled up right next to them and leaned on my walking staff and just inhaled the magic for a half hour in delight! Afterwards there was a couple banjos and a guitar and a real fine fiddle over at Tea & Toke kitchen a hundred feet to the north of our tent. I sat down and played on the rhythm egg, and a big golden lab drooled all over me wagging his tail. They were playing real Ozark bluegrass, and they ripped through a dozen tunes and had a captive audience of about 40 clapping for more each time they would stop!
The first day we packed in I was lured into the Popcorn Palace kitchen by the sounds of Robbie playing a mandolin and singing. Robbie was older and his legs were crippled, but he could and did sing like a songbird and played that mandolin all the time beaming a big rainbow smile! He'd also been at the 1980 gathering and told us about how they had finally jailed the guy that killed the two girls hitching to that West Virginia national. While I was talking to him and his friends, a 17 year old named Cheshire Cat was trying to attach himself to Pixie! Cheshire was hard to escape the next two days. He found and followed us wherever we went. Finally Pixie met Eric (age 17) and then it was in reverse, with Pixie dragging Dad all over trying to find and hang out with Eric. After Eric, Dad got dragged around as Pixie hung out with Eagle (age 13) all day.
Eagle had a fake English accent and claimed to have 190 wives. His Mom had brought him to gatherings about every year and also to regional gatherings in-between, and he was a creative soul! After Eagle, a different fellow named Weasel decided to hang with us non-stop and try wooing Pixie. Weasel was 19, but shorter than Pixie by a couple inches, and liked to hang out with the younger kids. Weasel was extremely polite and good company, but he really had no business with a 13 year old just out of grade school. After a couple of days I told Weasel he was a little too old for my girl and he respectfully backed off. Rainbow men are cut of a finer cloth, I think. I had done my utmost patient share of being flexible and mellow and allowing Pixie to meet and mingle with a LOT of folks, all the while never letting her too far out of my sight. I did about seven days of non-interfering chaperoning before explaining to Pixie that we weren't there to chase and be chased by boys. Amazingly, she agreed! The rest of the time we hung together and still managed to have major fun!
Out in the parking lot after an early visit to Steve and Cheyenne to see about riding horses, Pixie serenaded the FS with her trumpet. They drove past in a jeep and stopped right in front of us and asked if she would play them a song. She pulled out her sheet music for "This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land" by Woody Guthrie and blasted them with about three full verses with choruses! I was mighty proud! Afterwards we sang the two banned socialist verses to folks in the lot, and a day later I heard Pixie singing those verses to people at the Bliss kitchen!
"As I was walking, in the shadow of the steeple,
by the relief office, I seen my people.
As they stood there hungry, I stood there whistling..
(whistle melody to "This land was made for you and me")
As I was walking, I saw a sign there!
And on the sign it said, No Trespassing!
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing...
THAT side was made for you and me!"
The Krishna commune in West Virginia sent a bus and a couple of Swiss brown work bulls to the gathering. The bulls were twin brothers named Gita and Bhagavad. They were HUGE! We saw them as they arrived in a big trailer, and later grazing in a meadow. The Krishna's brought their usual assortment of fine musicians, including Indian drums and a harmonium, and put on theater in a stage in the first clearing. They had two big tipis and two large tents. Pixie and I stopped in their first tipi right after it went up, the incense was real fine and sweet and they were singing sweet songs to Krishna.
The inside of the tent had little triangular flags all around in a circle with some of the many names of god written on each flag. I wrote down the name of "Ksamah, one who is patient in all things!" Pixie grew impatient to leave and we tried to wait until their song ended, but it turned out to be an ENDLESS song so we snuck out quietly. They gave Pixie a glossy postcard of a blue lotus Shiva with four arms holding a nice talking drum and a ceremonial spear. Krishna was late arriving this year and we never made it to their kitchen, which opened about July 1st. Their kitchen has a reputation for the sweetest food!!
Josef arrived for the full moon sans his beard, but he brought his bagpipes! He remembered us from the Kentucky gathering where he worked communications and organized healers at the C.A.L.M. tipi. We also met Caribou, who maintains an unofficial Rainbow Family of Living Light homepage on the internet. Also it was a pleasure to meet Running Bear, an elder and cartoonist who posts regularly on the "alt.gathering.rainbow" internet newsgroup.
Early on we met Woody and his niece and her young friend David at the main circle. They were from West Virginia, and Woody told me an interesting tale of searching caves in Belize for artifacts. He was in a tight spot in a cave and poked at a mound of bat guano when a cloud of guano dust burst into the air and right down his lungs. He went into distress almost right away and developed histoplasmosis, a dangerous lung disease. After years of herbal and natural remedies, Woody's histoplasmosis is now in remission. Beware the guano dust in caves!
Woody's camp was near ours but on the other side of the Son Dance Trail and right next to Spring Creek. Woody heard some funny sounds one night and got up with a flashlight to find two armadillos had waddled out of the creek and were rummaging through his camp! He followed them a ways with the light as they waddled slowly off, and the next day he thinks he found their burrow a bit further downstream.
I would have loved to see those critters myself, but had to settle for the armadillos we saw hit by cars on the highway. Pixie and I stopped when we saw our first armadillo road-kill. The poor thing had really been clobbered by cars and we dragged it off the asphalt and into the weeds. Soon after we saw another armadillo in the classic four feet in the air bloated road-kill posture. Woody was a trader and kept business hours by his tent with wares on display luring folks in from the main trail. His demeanor was elegantly mellow and I liked him a lot. He had been at the Kentucky National in 1993, so I brought him some apple juice and a copy of the map I drew of that Gathering. He gave Pixie a beautiful ankle bracelet with bells. Later we brought him a set of juggling balls because the ankle bracelet was so sweet.
Everywhere we went we saw juggling sticks and Pixie was fascinated. The first juggler we saw with them was in Lovin' Touch kitchen, and he was a MOST excellent and smooooth juggler! Eric's friend Sage was playing an extended set of songs on Buddy Paul's guitar, and this juggler was sitting cross-legged in the dirt and working magic with those sticks in time with the music.
Sage was playing Nirvana and other tunes. He was real young but could play like my friend Johnny OH and sing like Kurt Cobain.
Sage and I traded songs later at their camp out by Granola Funk Express. Pixie was embarrassed to hear Dad chomping out bad versions of God Save The Queen (Sex Pistols) and Hey Baby (Hendrix) while she was trying to make eyes at Sage's friend Eric. Eric had a joker's hat and gave Pixie a necklace that came apart later. Pixie was sweet on this guy after getting that necklace! He was a drummer without a drum, promised to meet Pixie by the Kiddie Village swimming hole, but we couldn't find him. It's easy to lose folks at a Rainbow.
Trader's blankets were spread out at all the congested spots on the main trail, slowing foot traffic and bringing the shopping MALL spirit into the church. Call me a relic but I remember in 1980 the traders were NOT allowed to peddle inside until July 4th, when they flooded inside to the main meadow with all their trinkets glittering on their blankets. For many of these traders the Rainbow is just another stop on the flea market trail, and I resent this crass materialistic merchandising. Pixie was constantly drawn to gawk at their wares, and Dad (the Old Grouch) was given to grousing & crabbing & whining & beefing as I tried to pry her from those little portable stores. Jesus threw the bastards out of the temple on their ears, didn't he? Heeheheeheheee! Enough... :)
This was the first national where I didn't squirm my way into blowing the conch shell at main circle to call the family to grub. I must be getting old. The conch blowers I heard were doing their best but weren't getting the volume that the tuba player from Michigan got back in Kentucky in 1993! We had meadow neighbors from Urbana, Illinois, that brought a trombone and blew reveille way too EARLY one morning right next to our camp! Pixie had been sleeping but that blew her right out of the tent into the morning sunshine! Another trombonist at the Gathering liked to haunt the main drum circle and would let anyone pass around his trombone while he wandered off for hours. Way up by Arf Arf!! there was a cackle of five saxophones that regularly gathered in the shady trail and jammed together. They sounded to me like Frank Zappa's "The Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue // Dwarf Nebula Professional March & Dwarf Nebula", a real soaring pack of honkers in disarray.
Ours was the only trumpet we saw, and carrying it around a coupla days, we indulged a lot of requests from former trumpet players to play on it! It was played at the swimming holes with didgeridoos, tooted with wandering clarinets on the trail, and covered with fire soot at the main drum circle. We saw hordes of wood and orchestral flutes. There seemed to be a hundred didgeridoos! There were scores of guitars from the precious to the silly variety, and hundreds of big and small drums (the new Rainbow instrument of choice). SOOOO many drummers! Deep in the thundering buffalo stampede of oblivious amateur drumming there lurked a serious core of talented and demented real percussionists. The good drumming would surface and carry the energy in surprising places, even in the Walmart parking lot in West Plains!
There was a hilarious handbill posted at info about the telltale warning signs of drum abuse! It's interesting to note that lots of regional gatherings are just called "Drum Circles" now. The domination of the rhythmic ones has beaten the melodic minority to the sidelines! All hail the thumping BEAT!! Just kidding, I like drums a lot. Someday I would like to have a talking drum and a real low pitched booming tabla. I got a chance to play on both at the Shawnee regional in Early October! I didn't see many of either at this years National, but for all I know there were undoubtedly some real fine drums out there lurking in that foggy misty pulsing valley.
Pixie's new Rainbow friend Flipper was 19 and had been married and divorced twice already. Claimed to have already owned a house and had a high powered job at one point. He had a green spiked mohawk that kept lying down without his spray and mouse, and Pixie loved to take her fingers and mess it up! For him life was black leather and tattoos and musical angst (post-Punk) but he was obviously filled with joy and had a happy soul enjoying the Rainbow. He left July 2nd, hitching his way to Colorado with friends. A kind dude!
My Rainbow friend Jarrod had sliced three toes open in a farm accident loading hay bales a week before the rainbow. He wandered into Kiddie C.A.L.M. limping on a cane with no shoes or socks, and had flies crawling in & out of the mud caked around his wound! The Swedish Bitters woman decided he needed to clean that and apply Swedish Bitters. She prescribed Swedish Bitters for everything! We donated a clean sock for him to wear and he kept returning for more Swedish Bitters and cleaning each day. By the end of our stay he was walking without a cane, and new skin was growing on his wound. It was looking 100% improved! We poured through the ancient herbal tomes but never did find out the secret ingredients of Swedish Bitters. What the hay, Jarrod was healing fast! Center for Alternative Living Medicine does it again! May the Goddess praise Swedish Bitters!
A-camp, or Alcoholic Camp, lived up to it's bad reputation as usual. While there were a few kind souls welcoming folks home out on the road before parking, the welcome home info board area was home to a motley crue of sordid motorcyclists and macho self-designated Shanti Sena bosses. There was a giant "my-size" Barbi doll, naked, with duct tape over her mouth greeting everyone. The next day we went by and they were doing rather unspeakable things to her in the grass. I had Pixie turn her head and we walked quickly by.
The next time we went by, there was a crowd trashing a compact car. They had broken all the windows and were kicking in the doors. Some people have their own special forms of amusement, I guess. For a couple days there was a nice three-wheeled motorcycle that looked like a hearse parked right at the front gate, and the cycle gang members who brought it in were loading up on beer before hiking in where their feet would have to carry them.
The woman who had jumped up and down on the FS jeep without being arrested eventually calmed down a lot. We saw her several times being reeeeeally wacky but in better control. That day when she jumped on the jeep she had been hugging people on the trail, then tearing off their metal jewelry and throwing their rings and bracelets off into the weeds. Our friend Funky had his silver ring and silver bracelet thrown down into a ravine filled with poison ivy. Pixie and I and Cheshire Cat climbed down into it and helped him search. The bracelet was found quickly, but it was a long while later when Cheshire finally found the ring. Another brother lost an amulet and necklace and was extremely upset, but did not file charges against the woman.
One brother I met had the handle of "Less Stress". Now that is a good name! We can all use less Stress! Have you heard of "Vermin Supreme"? He is the infamous Disco Ball and giant toothbrush wielding hippie we met in Kentucky. He was here and passing out bumperstickers that said VERMIN SUPREME `96 "Brush Your Teeth, It's The Law!" We ran into him with a group that was asking cosmic questions of a Magic Eight Ball. I asked an important question and the 8-ball gave me the answer I was hoping for, but the exact words were, "Of course, you dork!"
The new summer edition of the 1996 Rainbow Guide was given away at info and there was a big color photo of Vermin Supreme with a shit-eating grin right on the cover! Fame!!! We had met Vermin in Kentucky in 1993. Vermin wandered around at night with a mobile and raucous party entourage. They carried that giant-size disco mirror-ball everywhere they went, shining flashlights on it and calling out for all to "Bow down and worship the Sacred Disco Ball!!" It was too-o-o-o hilarious! :)
Out in the parking lot we met and shared grub and laughs with Geo (George) from Minneapolis. The next night we heard machete whacking sounds back behind our camp in the trees, it seemed to go on all night! It was Geo and several of his Minneapolis friends carving out a shady campsite from the poison ivy and poison oak and raspberry brambles! Wack-a-wack-a-wack!! While we had set up at the tree line and had a tarp for protection from rain, the angle of the morning sun slanted in and heated up our tent in the early morning, ewwwwwwww!!!! Hot! Geo and friends did the extra work and wound up with a fine cool site with all day shade! A few set up tents out in the baking sun, only to move them the next day when they discovered how HOT the sun can be!
Our big hot meadow suddenly FILLED with tents on the weekend of June 29 and 30. An explosion of people arriving really changed the chemistry of the gathering from seed camp to full national homecoming! I crawled from our tent to find both paths we usually took to get to the main trail were now covered by new arrivals. There were tents everywhere!! A German shepherd from out of nowhere took umbrage at my emerging and growled and advanced on me to chew on my skinny leg!! I yelped backwards and grabbed my walking staff, which saved me! Dogs do not like big sticks wielded with a little bravisimmo! This big shepherd belonged to a tent two tents over, turned out to have a name (Nebraska) and took huge shits wherever he pleased.
The next night we tucked Pixie's sandals under the drop tarp next to the door of out tent because they were too raunchy and sandy to bring inside. The next morning Nebraska was using one of her sandals as a chew toy! I took several time outs during the gathering to move and cover other folks dog shit on the main trail. As much as I love cats, the Rainbow just makes me love cats all the more! I saw several people dive in to break up dog fights and almost got bowled over by fighting dogs a few times myself. As Bob Dylan says, "If dogs run free, then why not me? Across the swoop of tiiiiime........"
My favorite dog of the gathering was a three legged little black terrier that thought he was Napoleon! His name was Weasel. He stayed wherever he wanted, and had friends at Lovin' Touch and out at Horse Camp. His owner said he had picked a fight with a big German shepherd and got his leg bit off as a result. I was baby-sitting Kailey out at horse camp when a brother handed me Weasel and pleaded with me to hold him long enough for him to get away with his lady doggie that was in heat. Weasel had been romancing his pooch non stop, haahahaahaha! Who would bring a dog in heat to a Rainbow?
We also saw a beautiful brown/gray Afghan dog roaming without an owner (I like Afghans) and several big wolfhounds. There were a number of real classy fancy doggies whose owners kept them sensibly in tow, but 90% of the dogs just ran free. We came walking down the trail when two dogs locked in intercourse were captured by their owners who tried to separate them, but they were stuck! Pixie's eyes almost popped out of her head! Here were these silly humans pouring water and oil on these two pooches to no avail and trying to pull them apart. Oh the pain! I tried to move Pixie down the trail but all her friends had stopped to gawk at the sight.
Pixie was helping at Kiddie C.A.L.M. when a guy asked her to watch his little black cuddly puppy named Zodax while he ran a quick errand. Three hours later, the guy finally comes back! In the meantime, Pat had diagnosed Zodax as starving and loaded with worms! Pat and Pixie and I marched this guy down to the Animal Rainbow Family (ARF ARF!!) first aid camp. There he got medicine for his puppy and free food and a lecture, but the next day we found out he had given the puppy away. Rainbow people are BAD to their animals! Just my $.02 opinion! We met a family of 3 week old kittens in a sack. The mother had died, they said. They were taking care of them, they said. They had no milk, no food. My heart went out for them and their chances of surviving the Rainbow. :(
We saw lots of kittens but only about four adult cats. Adult cats will not put up with these conditions! Grace had a beautiful black and white cat named Fat Cat that ran free and safe at Lovin' Touch, but there was an uncomfortable and vulnerable black cat on a tied leash at the Popcorn Palace. We saw a couple of people on the trail carrying adult cats as they hiked. We saw people carrying mice and leading goats. Someone brought a rooster that crowed all day long! There were ferrets and pet birds and snakes and baby dwarf rabbits. Pixie caught and released her box turtle, caught and released butterflies and tadpoles. She got bit by a crawfish in the creek. We were all enjoyably nibbled on by little fish.
We both got chigger bites and TRIED not to scratch `em. We still have `em *scratch scratch* to tell ya the truth! There weren't many flies or mosquitoes or spiders. The great paranoia about Lyme disease from ticks was totally overblown. Any black bears or snakes probably fled the area after the first drum circle. Several folks went out of their way to seek out and kill some snakes, and their unlucky hides wound up as wares on the Trader's blankets. There were beautiful little golden finches fluttering around the kitchens and Red Tailed Hawks circling the updrafts above the hills. We spotted some fast little lizards that were black with narrow yellow stripes on their backs and bright blue tails.
I was really happy with the diversity of butterflies! Beautiful butterflies everywhere! Harvesters and Checkerspots and Blues and Viceroys and Fritillaries and lovely Dark Tiger Swallowtails! Saw my first live Zebra Swallowtail ever! And tattoos of butterflies! Tattoos everywhere! Tattoos in progress in the dust of the main trail! Pierced lips and tongues and nipples and belly buttons and ears and genitals and whole body irezumi tattoos. One woman from New Orleans wore an owl foot, alligator teeth, eagle feathers, and a gris-gris bag of zu-zu mamou! The further you got from A-camp, and the closer you got to the great swimming by Coffee Coffee, there were a lot of folks who wore only woven leaves of grape vine, or creative mud designs, or just shone with the light of their smiles! Rainbow spirit embraces all!!
Packing out the tents on our last trip down the trail, we came upon a man pushing his son (Zack) in a baby-buggy with little swivel wheels. The dirt path reached a rocky bUmPy stretch, so we swept the buggy up in the air and Zack was flying down the trail like a bird! We reached A-camp after a block-long flight, and set him back down on the dirt path. Dad suddenly took off and pushed that buggy about 200 yards down the path at a full sprint, with Zack laughing all the way! We were left smiling in clouds of buggy dust!
We saw a couple unloading a cello case from a van, so I asked about it. Sure enough, the kind brother got out his cello and treated us to a Bach concerto right there on the road in A-camp! Marvelous!!! I loooove cello! He was nailing the pitch and playing those hammer-ons and trills and getting those bow-stutters in there. I was in heaven! But soon we were loading the last of our gear into our old pickup truck. We ambled out of parking and onto FS road 3173. Eagle spotted us and ran to say farewell, then we headed out slowly, winding up through the Irish Wilderness towards Route 99. Farewell Rainbow `96!
Here's a partial list of kitchens and campsites we saw by July 3rd:
KITCHENS:
Tea Time
Granola Funk Express
Lovin' Touch/munchateria
Instant Soup
Ship of Love (Diva Diner)
White Dove
Bliss Kitchen
Brew Ha Ha
Popcorn Palace
Jah Love
Milliways (Cafe At The End Of The Universe)
Sun Dog
Musical Veggie
Have a Beautiful Day
The Woderfull Whirrled of OZ
Avalon
Everybody's Whatever Lovin' Ovins/NERT
Kool Aid Coroner
Cofee Cough (no fee, pop free)(Cafe Cough Fee)(Coffee Coffee)
Dee Bakery (Da Bakers)
Beeck Party
Jesus Soup Kitchen
Tow Back Go Kitchen
Krishna Kitchen
Turtle Soup
Dragon Kitchen
CAMPSITES and ORGANIZED MAYHEM:
Kiddie Village
Kiddie C.A.L.M.
C.A.L.M.
Info/Rumor control
Welcome Home
A-Camp
Bus Village
Teen Village
Kiddie Camping
Sorta First Aid
Celestial Tea & Toke
Lost Tribe
Kaw Valley
Mo Love/Dragon Camp
S.H.Y. Camp
Morning Star
Illinois Dysfunctional Family
Yoga Loca
Camp Got A Minute
Be Here Now
Butterflies & Roses
This Camp (Not That Camp)
That Camp (Not This Camp)
Thier Streak - Frier Camp
Sacred Space
Shama Lama Ding Dong
RME RUNE
Top Secret Research Facility
Area 51
Poison Ivy Camp
Teen Barbarian Space
Know Mun Land
FAEREYE Camp
Faerie Camp
Pixie Camp
Multi 4th Dimension
Polka Dot Camp
Safe Love Bowl
Baby Nap
H(({{OM}})) KLA HOMA
Sparrows Nest
Bliss Pit
Madame Frogs
World Peace Pilgrimage
Purple Gang
A.R.F. Animal Rainbow Family
Rest Area
Prop-A-Ghandi Camp
Seven Minit Low
Children Of The Sun
Health Info
Bench March
Calif Cove
Freedome Village L.P.
Camp Calm Union
Kamp U Can't Fine
Fallen Tree Tribe
Flip-N-Tripe E.E.
N.W. - S.W. Western Tribe (Scroll Deaf Tribe)
The Nurd Ick
Mother Ship of F.U.E.L.
NVR NVR LND
Bufins Party
Camp Of Know Repute
Yell Oh Flash Lite
No Feds Tree House
White Hawk
Kumformeee
Ora Gone Camp
Hum Zah
Bah Ree
Bi The Way
Serenity Ridge
Blissters
Cody Massage
Rooster Shack
Blues Party
Mayan Camp
Zoe (Ask For Oness)
High Times
Palm Tribe
Greenwitch Village
Sister Space
Aloha Camp
Om Home
Nowhere
Minnesota Camp
Turk's Head/East Wind
Katuah
No Butt Heads Be Us
The MADD Tea Party
Choc Olate Roomers
All Around The Universe
Coo Cool Ka Chew
Good Space Grove (New Amsterdam)
Well this rambling blathering spew has gone on long enough!
We had a great time and all was good!
The only way to describe a Gathering is to be there, really.
The vision doesn't get through to all,
but enough get the drift to keep this magical thing afloat now for 25 years!
Thanks for your patience and ear,
Lovin’ you,
guano
Philadelphia 2008
Today at work I was listening to one of the rock stations and they were having some kind of contest that involved spelling. I knew I shouldn't have listened but I couldn't help it! A young man was asked to spell "leopard." You know, that member of the cat family? The letters he uttered bore no resemblance to the word at all. The next guy was a bit better. He was asked to spell "nocturnal. Nocturnal means things that occur at night. It was even used in a sentence to describe what happens to us guys when we have, um... have dreams. I knew he would get it! Wrong! From his mouth came the letters k-n-o-c-t-e-r-n-a-l. Can you believe that!?
I had put that out of my mind until I was leaving work for home. I take the PATCO line from Jersey over to Philly. PATCO recently installed a new fare system that makes it easy to pay to get on the train and go. That is if you ever bother to understand
how it operates. A young lady with a cast shoe on purchased a paper ticket and dropped it on the ground and I picked it up for her. She never said thanks or anything and just kept singing in gibberish with her iPOD plugged into her ears.
I have the new card that you tap at the turnstile and let's you into the system and transfers a pre-paid balance to the card simultaneously. It tracks where you entered the system and where you exited and charges the appropriate fare. With the
paper ticket you have to insert it in a slot for this fare tracking to work. You buy your ticket based on where you have purchased and where you choose to go. Well, as I tapped my card to get in she rushed in right behind me before the turnstile closed. I tried to warn her that she would not be able to get out at her destination but she looked at me like I was crazy, still mumbling to her music.
I know this is not nice, but I hoped with all I had in me that she would get off the train at the same stop that I did. Keep that in mind. This takes us to story number two…
There are signs all over that tell you when and where you can bring a bike onto the train. It clearly states that: Onboard trains, cyclist must hold the bicycle firmly, with kickstand up, between windscreens of the non-platform side doorway. Well this dude was sitting 2-3 rows away from his bicycle, not holding it. In fact it was wedged between an upright bar and screen. Picture the back tire of a bicycle wedged in a gap between a pole and windscreen partition at the door. This bike was totally across the door blocking entry and exit into the car. As people got up they realized that this bike was blocking the door and they couldn't get out at their stop. The kid jumps out of his seat to move the bike but can't because it is wedged and people are literally trying to step over the bike to get off.
After a few seconds of confusion the bike is not freed. Some people get out. One man is almost trapped between the closing doors. He has to fight to get out. One old lady who couldn't get out in time punches the stupid bike rider in the shoulder as the train takes off and she has to ride to the next station to board a train going in the opposite direction to get back to her stop.
Remember the young lady who pushed behind me to get through the turnstile without inserting her ticket? Well, I had to see this. She made her way up to the main concourse as I tapped my card to get to the other side. I waited ever so patiently for her to get up to the turnstile so I could watch her get snagged. With the most puzzled look on her face she tried every turnstile and like on a game show, big red X's let her know she was oh so wrong!
I walked over to the attendant and that is when she finally took her headphones out. I said, "Miss that happened because you snuck in behind me without using your ticket in Camden. The attendant nodded a knowing nod. The system charges you the highest fare because it doesn’t know where you really got on. So it charges you from the furthest station to the station you try to exit after you convert your ticket with a machine that sits nearby the turnstiles. It’s just so happened our stop was the end of the line, so she had to pay from end to end.
In a way, these events were funny, almost laughable. At least one event was dangerous. Blocking entry and exits on mass transit could spell disaster. All of this though is really scary. Could this be the dumbing down of America that I keep hearing about? I hope today was just an anomaly! If this is the norm, we are all doomed!
Our family friend, John, has what he calls his funeral suit. I suppose we are now reaching the point where I need one too. In fact, I have lost several friends, former colleagues from The Mob, something that will accelerate as the years pass.
Last week, I noticed that a friend of mine on Flickr, Günter, had not commented on any shots for a few weeks. He used to leave funny one sentence comments that almost always brought a smile.
The lastest shot on his photostream was of a fresh grave.
His.
Sadly, Günter passed away on New Year's Day, and his family posted this last shot to let the world know. Or his friends, anyway.
We had visited his and his wife in Bonn, and he had come to stay with us too, we share interests in railways, photography and beer.
It came quite a shock I can tell you.
Online, people come and go, mostly without fanfare or announcement. One day they are there, and then they're not. Did they just get fed up, or something more terminal?
Most of the time, we'll never know.
I am lucky in that I have met many online friends in real life, sometimes here in Kent, but also in the US too, so know they are more than screen names and photos, but real people with lives, who are pretty much as wonderful as thei online presence would have you believe.
Life goes on, of course, but I will miss Günter, and sad for the fact we will not raise beers in a friendly toast to each other.
We woke at half six, I went to the bathroom and looked out the window. Still too early for birds, but there wasn't a breath of wind either, nor any cars to be seen moving. So it looked like someone had paused time.
Cleo is perpetual motion, however, and coming downstairs revealed her to be always on the move until her food is placed just where she wants it.
I went to Tesco by myself, with a list as long as a long thing, while Jools stayed behind and fed the hungry washing machine two loads of dirty laundry. Good news is that Tesco was fully stocked with fresh produce, including rapsberries from Spain. We like them for breakfast at weekends, its a hard habit to break.
Back home to unload and makaid breakfast; fruit and yogurt followed by warmed croissants.
Jools said she had been sitting all week, so would not come with me to go churchcrawling, so I go on me tood, driving up the M20 to Maidstone, to revisit All Saints church, where I had not been for over 12 years. I had checked Google, and it said the church would be open from 10:00.
I timed it to arrive dead on ten. I parked the car opposite, and didged traffic to get over the main road, I went to the first door only to find it locked. But a sign suggested there were two more possible ways in, so walked round, checked the north door, and that was locked too. That only left the west door, under the tower, to try. That was ajar, so my hopes lifted. Only to find the inner door locked.
Maybe I was too early?
A lady came in, I asked about the church. She said she was a bellringer, and disappeared up the steps to the ringing loft, where sounds of poorly rung bells could be heard.
I went round the church one more time, ending back at the west door, and again all way in were locked.
Sigh.
But there was a runners up prize; a church on the edge of town, in what used to be a village, at Bearsted. THe sat nav told me it was just a ten minute drive away.
So, I drove across town, through the crazy one-ways system, out the other side and along to Bearsted, where there were ancient timber framed houses, so old they had settled over the centuries into strange angles, none of which were right ones.
I found church lane, which wound its way through a modern housing estate, parked outside the chuchyard, and I could see a nice "church open" sign before I got out.
Although it looked spendid from the outside, inside it had been reordered at least twice, so that any ancient features were well hidden indeed. Even the glass, usually a rescuing act for over restored churches, were either just average or poor here. But it was my first visit here, so another tick in the box.
I now had to get home, as Jools is joining the speaking ciruit, as a lady has asked Jools to lead classes in beaded jewellery making.
I hightailed it back to the motorway, and once on, settled down to cruise back down to Dover and home, getting back at half twelve, with an hour to spare before Jools had to leave for the class.
So, it was just me an the cats for a few hours. There was football to entertain me, so I sat beside Scully on the sofa and watched the Championship game while she dozed beside me.
At three, it was time to concentrate on Norwich away at Millwall, one of six teams above us, and a win here would put us back in the play-offs. It was an exciting game, Millwall took the lead, only for City to level before half time, and then score two more early in the 2nd half. Millwall plled one back in the last ten minutes, but we hung on to win 3-2.
Not perfect, but a win at the New Den where they had been unbeated since September. And then, along came Nodge.
Dinner was a rushed one of pizza and iced squash, as we were going out to a gig.
Lawrence was the singer in an indie band in the 80s called Felt. He then formed Denim, an ironic pop band for the 90s, which also stiffed. He now fronts Mozart Estate, which does a fine line in ironic pop. Still.
We drive over th Ramsgate, to a small venue called The Music Hall. We were early, but got in, and went to the bar where we chatted to a couple about our age about music. In fact, most folks were about "our age".
First up was a young female singer/songwriter, who strummed her guitar along to her 6th form poetry.
The hall, which was barley bigger than our living room was about 50% full, but comfortable. We went to find somewhere to sit, thinking that the bar would be empty, only to find it rammed with more people than when we left it half an hour before.
We went to get some air, and finding nowhere to sit, went to the car.
Jools was shattered and fell asleep, and I really did not feel like being rammed into that room unable to see the band, and not able to lean against a wall to rest my back.
I said we'd go home.
So we did.
I don't regret it.
We got back at ten, Jools went to bed, while I had a glass of sloe port.
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Holy Cross church stands to the south of the village green at the end of a cul de sac. Its noble tower is crowned with queer sculptures, slightly reminiscent of Alnwick Castle. The exterior has a nicely textured effect, but this leads to an unexpectedly clean interior - the result of much care and attention and recent reordering. Whilst it cannot pretend to be in the top league of Kent churches it offers a fine selection of 19th and 20th century glass and some fine wall tablets. West tower, nave, chancel, north aisle and chapel, south porch.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Bearsted
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BERSTED.
BERSTED lies the next parish north-westward from Leeds. It was antiently written Bergestede, and most probably took its name from its situation, Berg, in Saxon, signifying a hill, and stede, a place or village.
THE PARISH lies mostly on what may be called high ground, a pleasant, and the greatest part of it a dry situation; the soil is in general a deep sand, though towards the south-west part it partakes of the quarry rock, and on the south side of the Lenham river a black moorish soil of fertile meadow ground. This river parts it towards the south from Osham, another smaller stream, which rises near Boxley, separates it on the western side from that parish and Maidstone, leaving within the bounds of it a part of the hamlet of Maginford. Besides the above, this parish is watered by two or three other smaller rivulets, which rise northward, and run here into the Lenham river, the easternmost of them separating it from Hollingborne and Leeds. The high road from Ashford and Lenham towards Maidstone, runs along the northern boundaries of it, passing over Bersted-green, the houses round which form the parish village, near it stands the church; besides this there are two other hamlets, called Ware and Roseacre-streets. In the south-east part of the parish is the seat of Milgate, pleasantly situated and wellcloathed with trees, at the back of which the ground descends to the river, and at a small distance that of Lower Milgate, so called from its lower situation still nearer the river.
A fair used to be held here on Holy Cross day, September 14, now by the alteration of the style, changed to Sept. 25, for pedlary, toys, &c.
The noble family of Bertie own this parish to have been their most antient habitation in this kingdom, for they are said to have possessed lands in it near the parsonage, at Strutton-street, and elsewhere in this neighbourhood, as early as the reign of king Henry II. and among the Harleian MSS. there is a grant of arms, anno 2 Henry VI. to Bartie, of Berested, in Kent; they continued here in king Henry the VIIth.'s reign, as appears by an antient rental of that time, and there are still lands, called Barty lands, in this parish and Thurnham; and from those of this name settled here, in a direct line was descended the dukes of Ancaster, now extinct, and from them the lady Willbughbye, of Eresbye; the earls of Abingdon, and other distinguished branches of this family claim their descent.
The manors of Leeds, Moathall, and Thurnham, extend over this parish, in which there is an estate belonging to the former of them, which has constantly passed through the same succession of owners, from the family of Crevequer, who were proprietors of it in the reign of William the Conqueror, to the Rev. Dr. Denny Martin Fairfax, of Leeds-castle, who is at present in the possession of it.
MILGATE is an eminent seat, situated in the southeast part of this parish, which was formerly esteemed a manor, though it has long since lost the reputation of ever having been one.
The family of Coloigne antiently possessed this estate; one of whom, Robert de Coloigne, died possessed of it in the 35th year of king Edward III. In process of time, his descendants came to be called Coluney; one of whom, Thomas Coluney, as appears by an old survey of Bersted, possessed it in the 14th year of Edward IV. Soon after which, that is, in the beginning of king Henry VII.'s reign, it was become the property of the family of Stonehouse, whose antient seat was at Haslewood, in Boughton Malherbe.
Robert Stonehouse, esq. was of Bersted, at the latter end of king Henry VIII.'s reign. His son, George Stonehouse, esq. was clerk of the green cloth to queen Elizabeth, and resided at West Peckham, where he died in 1575, whose eldest son William was created a baronet anno 4 Charles I. and Nicholas, the second, was of Boxley, in this county. He bore for his arms, Argent, on a fess sable, between three hawks volant, azure, a leopard's face, between two mullets, or. (fn. 1) In the beginning of the reign of queen Elizabeth he alienated this seat to Thomas Fludd, esq. afterwards knighted, who was son of John Fludd, esq. of Morton, in Shropshire, and bore for his arms, Vert, a chevron between three wolves heads, erased, argent; which coat, with his quarterings, was confirmed to him by Robert Cook, clarencieux, in 1572. He resided at Milgate, where he died in 1607, and was buried in this church, having considerably improved and augmented this seat. His son Thomas Fludd, esq. afterwards of Otham, succeeded him in this estate, which he alienated in 1624, to William Cage, of Farringdon, in Hampshire, barrister-at law, who resided here. He was bred at Lincoln's-inn, an utter barrister, and was descended from Richard Cage, of Packenham, in Suffolk. He bore for his arms, Per pale, gules and azure, a saltier, or, and a chief, ermine, which was an alteration from the antient arms of this family, viz. Azure and gules, over all a saltier, or; and, together with an addition to the crest, was granted to him by St. George, clarencieux, in 1624, (fn. 2) and in his descendants it continued down to Wm. Cage, esq. who was likewise of Milgate, and was sheriff in 1695, and represented the city of Rochester in several parliaments during queen Anne's reign. Of his sons, William died s. p. Lewis will be mentioned hereafter; and John was of Lower Milgate, esq. Lewis Cage, the second son, became at length possessed of Milgate, where he resided, and left one son Lewis, and a daughter Catherine, who married first, Mr. George Eastchurch, of Maidstone; and secondly Christopher Hull, esq. but died s. p. On his death, Lewis Cage, esq. his son, succeeded him in this seat, where he now resides.
He married Annetta, second daughter and coheir of Edward Coke, esq. of the White Friars, in Canterbury, by whom he had four sons; Lewis Cage, esq. of Lower Milgate, who married Fanny, eldest daughter of Sir Brook Bridges, bart. the Rev. Edward Cage, rector of Easling, who married Jane, second daughter of Charles Van, esq. of Monmouthshire; John, who died in the West-Indies unmarried in 1789, and the Rev. Charles Cage, of Cristmell, vicar of Bersted, who married Elizabeth, daughter of colonel Graham, and one daughter Catherine, as yet unmarried.
AT A SMALL DISTANCE westward from Milgate, there is a good house, called COMBES, alias LOWER MILGATE, which on the death of William Cage, esq. came to his youngest son John Cage, as before-mentioned, who died s. p. It is now the property of Mrs. Brander, the widow of Gustavus Brander, esq. and daughter of Francis Gulston, esq. by a daughter of William Cage, esq. Lewis Cage, esq. junior, at present resides in it.
MOAT-HALL is a manor in this parish, the mansion of which, from the materials with which it was built, was called Stonehouse. It antiently belonged to the neighbouring priory of Leeds, as appears by several old boundaries and papers, and was most probably part of those demesnes given to it at its first foundation, by Robert de Crevequer, in the reign of king Henry I. These demesnes appear by a rental of the time of king Henry VII. to have been held of the manor of Leeds, though they have been long since accounted parcel of this manor of Moat-hall.
On the dissolution of the priory in the reign of king Henry VIII. this manor, among the rest of the possessions of it, was surrendered into the king's hands, who afterwards, by his dotation-charter, in his 33d year, settled this manor, among other premises, on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, with whom it remains at this time.
The present lessee of it, under the dean and chapter, is Mr. William Usborne. There is a court baron held for this manor.
AT A SMALL DISTANCE southward from the church lies an estate called OTTERIDGE, formerly Oterashe, which in the reign of king Henry VIII. belonged to Simon Bertyn, one of the brethren of St. Bartholomew's hospital, beside Sandwich, who by will in 1530, devised it to Jeffry Merchant, of Rainham.
It afterwards came into the possession of the family of Munns, who continued possessors of it for several generations, till at length one of them sold it, with Aldington, in the adjoining parish of Thurnham, to William Sheldon, esq. whose descendant Richard Sheldon, esq. at his death, bequeathed it to his widow, and she re-marrying with William Jones, M. D. entitled him to it. He died in 1780, leaving by her two daughters; Mary, married to Lock Rollinson, esq. of Oxfordshire, and Anne, to Thomas Russell, esq. and they in right of their wives, are respectively entitled to it.
Charities.
SIMON BERTYN, one of the brethren of St. Bartholomew's hospital, near Sandwich, owner of Otteridge, in this parish, which he devised, together with his messuage called Buds, with its lands and appurtenances, in Allyngton, beside Thurnham, by his will in 1530, to Jeffry Marchant, ordered that the said Jeffry and his heirs male, should for ever yearly distribute, on the first Sunday of Lent, in the church of Berghsted, to the parish clerk there, and to other poor people, four bushels of green peas; that is to say, to every one of them, one peck.
EDWARD GODFREY, gent. of Thurnham, gave by his will in 1709, thirty shillings yearly out of lands in this parish, called Crouch field, for the schooling of poor children; half of them to be of this parish, and half of that of Thurnham. And he left 30s. yearly for the same use, to be paid out of an house called Rose acre, in this parish; the payment of which has been constantly refused, upon pretence, that he had no right to devise that charge on it.
The poor constantly relieved are about forty-five; casually twenty five.
BERSTED is within the ECCLESIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the diocese of Rochester, and deanry of Sutton.
The church is situated on high ground, at a small distance southward of Bersted-green. It is dedicated to the Holy Cross, and is a handsome building, consisting of two isles and two chancels, with a square beacon tower at the west end of it. On three corners of the summit of the tower, are the figures of three dogs, or bears sejant, for they are so defaced by great length of time, that they can but be guessed at. If they represent the latter, they might have been placed there in allusion to the name of this parish: if not, these figures might perhaps be the crest of the founder of the church. In this church in the Milgate chancel, are monuments for the Cage family, and for Robert Fludd, M. D. A memorial for William Godfrey, jun. in 1690; and for Elizabeth, daughter of Henry Bosvile, esq. of Bradburne, justice and clerk of the court of wards, married first to Edward Mabb, gent. of this parish; and secondly, to William Godfrey, of Bersted, yeoman, obt. 1614. In the porch, against the east wall, is a small monument for Stephen Mason, of Boxley, citizen and vintner of London, obt. 1560, arms, A thevron, between three tuns, or barrels.
There were some lands and tenements in this parish, given by several persons, who stiled themselves the fraternity of the Holy Cross of Bersted, for a priest to sing mass yearly for one quarter of a year, in this church.
The church of Bergnestede, with all its rights and appurtenances, was given in the reign of Henry I. by Robert de Crevequer, son of Hamo de Crevequer, junior, to the priory of Leeds, then founded by him; which gift was confirmed by Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of Henry II. who then appropriated this church to the canons there, towards the finding of lights and ornaments in their church. Archbishops Theobald and Hubert confirmed it likewise, as did John, prior, and the convent of Christ-church, in 1278, by the description of the church of Berghestede, with the tithes of Strutton. King Edward III. likewise confirmed it by his charter of inspeximus in his 41st year.
This church, together with the advowson of the vicarage, remained part of the possessions of the priory of Leeds till the dissolution of it, in the reign of king Henry VIII. when it was surrendered up into the king's hands, among other estates belonging to it.
After which, the king, by his dotation charter, in his 33d year, settled both the parsonage and advowson of the vicarage of this church on his new-founded dean and chapter of Rochester, with whom they now remain.
¶On the intended dissolution of deans and chapters, after the death of king Charles I. the possessions of the dean and chapter of Rochester, in this parish, were surveyed in 1649, by order of the state; when it was returned, that the parsonage or rectory of Bersted consisted of a messuage, barns, &c. which, with the tithes and glebe land of forty acres, were of the improved rent of 46l. 8s. per annum, which were let anno 13 Charles I. at the yearly rent of 9l. 13s. 4d. and four bushels of malt, for the term of twenty-one years; and the lessee covenanted to discharge the pension of forty shillings to the vicar, and to repair the chancel of the church. Out of which lease was excepted, the advowson of the vicarage, and the portion of tithes called Vintners Portion.
The vicarage is a discharged living in the king's books, of the clear yearly certified value of thirty pounds, the yearly tenths of which are 12s. 9d.
In 1649, the vicarage was valued in the abovementioned survey at twenty pounds per annum.
The parsonage is leased out by the dean and chapter to Mr. John Packman, but the advowson of the vicarage they reserve in their own hands.
The vicarage is endowed with all manner of tithes, except grain, and the vicar now enjoys the abovementioned pension of forty shillings from the lessee of the dean and chapter.
The Painter mused on whether we might meet up at the railway station, spend some time over lunch then venture to the court where she has been framed.
Unremarkably, we met at the bus station. The court is The High Court, Australia's constitutional court. She is hung in the foyer, not literally, but as one of the artists to embellish its brutalist concrete walls. How was she framed? In wood. Her complaint was that the unfinished linen edge of her work was raw and undignified. Now was her opportunity to see how the framing sat with her work.
For such a momentous and solemn building, the attendants are charming and welcoming. Once The Painter introduced herself, it was as though we were old friends. They hold that the figure on the ramp is the lady who each morning rubs the smudges from the brass railing. It's true! This scene captures the morning light; the polishing hour.
We didn't use the terms rectilinear and orthorhombic as such, but when we ascended to the balcony that is the viewpoint for this work, The Painter did admit to taking liberties in the composition and perspective of her rendering of this scene. It's none the worse for taking on her expression.
For the curious, and just for fun, this was shot in "Pro" mode, cropped and "deskewed" in the device and posted as I watch the cycling on the idiot box… The white balance was set to daylight despite being indoors because, well, all the glass means that provides the most true colour rendering of this scene.
John Storey was sentenced to 1 month at Newcastle City Gaol for stealing wood.
Age (on discharge): 32
Height: 5.8
Hair: Light
Eyes: Grey
Place of Birth: Newcastle
Status: Single
Occupation: Labourer
These photographs are of convicted criminals in Newcastle between 1871 - 1873.
Reference:TWAS: PR.NC/6/1/1279
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
To purchase a hi-res copy please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk quoting the title and reference number.
Location: The camp was located at the site of the current Canadian Forces Base Petawawa, Ontario.
Time Period: The article refers to the first internment camp, which operated from December 1914 to May 1916. A second, separate internment camp (Camp 33) operated during the Second World War.
Internees: The camp primarily housed civilian internees of German and Austro-Hungarian origin who were classified as "enemy aliens" under the War Measures Act.
Conditions: The text suggests the Canadian government made every effort to follow international law. Internees were used for manual labor such as road building and timber felling and were paid a small daily wage.
PETEWAWA ENEMY INTERNMENT CAMP
A German resident of the village of Petewawa remarked to the Standard photographer when he visited the camp, "If the British prisoners in the Fatherland are only treated half as well!" That short sentence, uttered by one of the race who we are now forced to look upon as our enemies, tells the story of Petewawa Internment camp in a nutshell.
The Canadian Government makes every effort to live up to the very letter of International law when dealing with those unfortunates whom stern necessity compels her to intern, and the six hundred German and Austrian aliens who are now in forced residence at Canada's permanent military camp are treated as unfortunates-not as enemies. When first arriving in camp these men undergo an inspection In order to see that they are properly clothed for the rigorous climatic conditions of the country. If they are not suitably clothed, the stores department issues the necessary warm clothing. Then they take up their residence in one of the buildings which has been converted into a bunk-house, and arrangements are made in one of the various cook-houses to feed the new arrivals. Rations are issued to them exactly as to the men of the 42nd Regiment, who act as guards, and three times a day the hundred and fifty men who occupy each bunk-house are escorted to the cook-house for their meals. Work on a large scale has not yet been inaugurated, but the aliens do all of the work of the camp, of course, under guard, and they are all eager to volunteer for any job to be done.
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(9 March 1915) - Journal at Petawawa among War Camp Prisoners - www.newspapers.com/article/the-ottawa-journal-journal-at-...
MAJOR S. E. de la RONDE
Camp commander at Petawawa military internment camp.
JOURNAL AT PETAWAWA
Men Plot Escape AMONG Guards Will Shoot to Kill
WAR CAMP PRISONERS
Fascinating Story of Visit to the Military Guard and the Germans, Turks and Austrians - The Stern Challenge of the Sentry and the Cry of "All's Well" Through Black Darkness of the Night.
Written specially for "The Universal" Of all the camps in Canada where German, Austrian and Turkish prisoners of war are spent among the immense barracks and Turkish prisoners of war.
Petawawa Military Internment Camp, March 9 - Within 100 miles of Ottawa is one of the biggest novelties that Canada has ever had inside its borders. It is Petawawa camp. Not the camp of the summer months where soldiers gather for training, but a war camp where are gathered over 600 real prisoners of war. To the Canadian visiting the spot it is one continued kaleidoscope of novelties changing in quick succession. The walk from the station in the direction of the camp along the unlit road for almost two miles is without excitement until suddenly from out of the darkness, with sharpness that sends a shiver right down one's back comes the command: "Halt! Who goes there?" "F-F-Friend," one manages to stutter out. "Advance friend, and give the countersign" And one walks at the glittering point of a bayonet held firmly and with decision by a great coated guard.
It feels like real warfare. "Letters from the General? Follow me," commands the guard.
WONDERING IF THE RIFLE IS LOADED - And as the guard leads the way to the guard-house for an examination of credentials you look at that wicked Ross rifle and wonder if it really is loaded. It is. It is in the guard-house that one gets his first glimpse of military life. The long line of guards sleeping between watches with their rifles piled down the centre of the room, ready to jump to their feet should emergency demand, is surely impressive. It is surely a welcome relief when at six o'clock reveille announces that life for the day is about to start. Behind an escort the visitor is led to the officers' quarters, where the officer commanding the guard, Captain Edwards, of the 42nd Lanark regiment, holds out a welcome hand. The routine of the day is just starting, and an invitation from the officer of the day to make the rounds of the camp with him, comes just at the right time.
LARGEST PRISONERS' CAMP. - This is the largest prisoners' camp in Canada, the officer will proudly tell you, as he leads the way across the flat drill ground. The men are divided
into five camps. The largest majority of the men here are Austrians and Turks, all army reservists of their respective countries. Some of them are officers. They have been brought from practically every town and city in Canada, although the majority hail from Montreal, Ottawa and Toronto. "They are a hard bunch to take care of. We are so careful that they
receive humane treatment and are not bullied by the guards that the men are beginning to get wise and take advantage of our kindness. They may do almost anything they like but escape," said the captain. "They are all getting fat at the treatment they receive here, their food allowance is
even more than that of our own soldiers, and it is cooked equally well."
THEY ARE WELL LOOKED AFTER. - The prisoners have been all supplied with warm clothing, sheepskin coats, rubber boots and warm mitts and caps. Each man is given four woollen blankets, a pillow and mattress and the camps are warm and well ventilated. They work if they want to, and if they work they are paid the same as our own soldiers. "The layout of the camp could not be improved upon," continued the officer, "although it takes the largest guard ever mounted in the British Empire to watch the men, they are so scattered. Each evening at six o'clock the guard of 52 men goes on duty. Everything for the health of the men is watched, and the high sloping, sandy ground overlooking the Ottawa is one of the healthiest spots in Canada. There has not been a single case of serious illness since the camp was formed."
FIRST PEEP AT THE PRISONERS. - At that moment we arrived at the first camp. A sentry was pacing up and down in front of the building, a long affair with a door at each end. Another sentry stood inside each door, all had fixed bayonets. The prisoners were just receiving their clothes, which had been locked up for the night, when the officer of the day arrived. Some of the men welcomed him with a smile and a salute, others scowled the darkest and muttered something in a foreign language which the officer could not understand. Down either side of the room is a line of bunks, double width and in three tiers. When we arrived at the second camp the men were carrying their blankets out to be aired, laying them on the snow until they returned from breakfast. In the distance can be heard the call for breakfast. The prisoners are quickly lined up inside the camp and a few minutes later the escort of six armed men arrive and march them off to one of the two dining-rooms, where special paid prisoners hand them out their food as they sit at the long tables. It was porridge and bacon, with six ounces of bread that the man sat down to, with a big mug of tea, and they certainly bore out the officer's contention that they were getting fat on their diet.
WOOD CUTTERS START OUT. - Immediately after breakfast the various fatigue parties and the men that had chosen to work cutting wood set out for their duties under escort. In little gangs of from six to ten, followed by their guard, they trudged across the snow and into the woods. The rest of the men returned to their camps and, after making their beds, started to play cards, read the religious books that had passed the censors, or worked at some handiwork such as making picture frames, which they sell as souvenirs of the camp, or wooden toys. Everything except dangerous knives and weapons has been left with them and in each camp is a canteen at which they may buy little delicacies and tobacco. Only one thought can possibly pass through the mind of a visitor as he sees the prisoners. It is the hope that our boys who are taken prisoners will receive the same treatment at the hands of the Germans. It is the guard of soldiers who are to be more pitied than the prisoners. The 160 men and six officers under the supervision of the camp commandant, Major de la Ronde, are on active service, under military law and discipline. They must work hard, be ever on the alert for plans of escape which are being unearthed all the time. If they fall asleep on sentry duty not only are they subject to a death sentence, but also they run the chance of having one of the prisoners run his own bayonet through him when making a dash for liberty. "It is awfully aggravating to have to stand here and listen to these prisoners swearing at me and making fun of me in their own language," said one of the guards, who can understand Austrian. "Some of them think this ain't real war and we 'amateur militia' can't shoot, and they make fun of us. But just you wait. They say they are going to make a break for liberty in the spring when there is a chance of getting away. Then you will see that the guard can shoot, and shoot straight, and believe me I would give five dollars to be the man on sentry duty when they make their boasted break." But the prisoners haven't broken yet, although many plots to do so have been discovered and nipped in the bud by placing an extra guard. It is not an offence for a prisoner of war to try to escape, and he cannot be punished for doing so, although he can be shot down in the attempt.
OFFICERS OF THE GUARD. - The officers in charge of the guard are Captain J. Edwards, Lieuts. R. M. Watson, J. Airth and G. M. Brawley, with Captain Stewart, A.M.C. and Lieut. Thompson, A.B.C. They realize that it is part of the real game of war they are playing, for they inspect the loaded breaches of every rifle in camp, and they have given every sentry the command to "shoot to kill." It was getting late, the sun had set, the new guard with blankets rolled and guns loaded had mounted guard. First post, which means lights out for the prisoners, had been blown telling that nine o'clock had arrived. The sentries marched up and down their beats and as we started out for the station a gong in front of the guard-house announced the half hour. "Number one and all's well." . . . "Number two and all's well." "Number three and all's well," from out of the darkness the clear voices of the men rang as they told one another that "All's well." Then for another half hour they kept their silent watch, while we set out for the depot and the train with the one thought. "Yes, they are real prisoners of war. I wonder if our own boys are faring as well."
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"Chesterfield" was the name, or at least the professional byline, of a specific photographer who worked for the Montreal Standard newspaper in the early 20th century, identified as A.A. Chesterfield.
Here is more information about him:
Full Name: His name was Albert Alexander Chesterfield (1877-1959)
Company: In 1905, he moved back to Montreal and co-owned a press photography company with E. Bruce McLaren on Bleury Street.
Work in the Arctic: A significant part of his work involved documenting life in the Canadian North. There is a book titled A Fur Trader's Photographs: A.A. Chesterfield in the District of Ungava, 1901-1904 which discusses his time as a fur trader and amateur photographer with the Revillon Frères company. His photographs from this period offer a historical look at the region.
Archival Records: His collections and personal effects (fonds) are held in archives, such as at Queen's University Archives, which details his professional career and personal life.
Newspaper Credits: The credit "Photo by A.A. Chesterfield" appears in The Standard newspaper, specifically in issues like that of February 10, 1912, confirming his professional connection to the publication.
In summary, A.A. Chesterfield was a professional photographer with his own studio in Montreal, whose work, including photographs from his time as a fur trader in the Arctic, was published in publications like The Montreal Standard.
Biographical history
A.A. Chesterfield was born in Kent, England in 1877. He was orphaned at 12 and then sent by his grandmother to live with his Aunt and Uncle in Quebec, he left behind a brother and a sister. After his completion of high school he left his Aunt and Uncle in 1895 to work as an apprentice clerk and fur trader with the Hudson's Bay Company. Over the next few years he worked at posts in both Rigolet on the Labrador coast, in Great Whale River, and at Fort George. There he took great interest in studying the Inuit and Cree peoples of the land, documenting their ways of life, he also wrote several articles on his observations. It is unclear where he first received training as a photographer. Later in 1895 he met a missionary doctor named Wilfred Grenfell, with whom he became very close friends and would often leave the post travelling out of the Post on the local ships for days at a time.
In 1905 Chesterfield moved back to Montreal where he soon found himself the co-owner of a press photography company with E. Bruce McLaren on Bluery Street. He developed an interest in documenting what he saw as typical Canadian behavior, which meant everything from fishing to maple sap tapping to winter scenes. Unfortunately a fire broke out in their studio, and most of Chesterfield's equipment and negatives were destroyed. Chesterfield then gave up photography and tried his hand at journalism. He published several articles before he retired.
In the 1930s he married Mary Emma McCracken and also ran for Public Office. Later in his life they moved from Montreal to eastern Ontario where he is said to have lived a quiet life. Chesterfield has been cited as a unique character, who very rarely volunteered information about his earlier life. As he grew older his eye sight began to fade, and he burned his canoe from his days among the Cree, stating that no one would be able to handle it but he. After his death in 1959, Mrs. Chesterfield donated what was left of her husband's work to Queen's University. Sadly she passed away in the early 1980s.
Death sentence, December 23, 1941 Poventsa.
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Kuolemantuomio, 23.12.1941, Poventsa.
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[ sa-kuva | A.Viitasalo | 68127 ]
Olympus E-M1 camera, Olympus 12-60mm lens, Olympus FL-50 flash. Flash shot off camera through umbrella on stand.
Location: Acton Arboretum, Acton Massachusetts
2015.09.19-17.19.05
MMA (ex-BN) C30-7 #5018 and ex-NS (nee-CR) C39-8 #8208 sit outside of Willard, awaiting to be sent out by CSX to LTE in Lordstown for disposal.
Title: Prisoners Awaiting Sentence, Juarez Prison. [No. 821]
Creator: Horne, Walter H., 1883-1921
Date: ca. 1910-1918
Part of: Elmer and Diane Powell collection on Mexico and the Mexican Revolution
Place: Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, New Mexico
Description: A real photographic postcard featuring an image of a prison guard sitting outside of Juarez Prison, with prisoners looking out of a barred window behind him.
Physical Description: 1 photographic print (postcard): gelatin silver; 9 x 14 cm
File: ag2014_0005_01_005_03_horne_079_prisoners_r_opt.jpg
Rights: DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University
For more information, see: digitalcollections.smu.edu/cdm/ref/collection/pwl/id/732
View the Elmer and Diane Powell Collection on Mexico and the Mexican Revolution: sites.smu.edu/cdm/cul/pwl/
Ralph* is a 28-year-old student and police officer in the Gok area of the Greater Lakes region.
But there is something wrong in this seemingly promising picture of a gainfully employed young man making progress in life. About a week ago, Ralph began to serve a six-month-long prison sentence in Cueibet. The young bachelor was caught committing adultery.
As another two men were involved in this unlawful sexual encounter, the customary fine for adultery, seven cows (paid to the woman’s husband), was divided among the culprits, with Ralph requested to provide three of the bovines due.
“I could only afford two cows, so now I’ll be here in prison for the next six months,” Ralph says, adding that finding a wife of his own would probably have been a better idea.
The latter admission elicits howls of laughter amongst a group of fellow inmates and a couple of prison wardens surrounding us.
Considering the dire conditions of those forced to spend time at the Cueibet Prison, the predominantly male prisoners are jovial and in good spirits. Ralph, who has been a police officer for four years, is hopeful of a successful return to his work, and to his community.
“I’ll use myself as a warning example. What happened to me, as a police officer, will show people that nobody is above the law.”
The prison in Cueibet, recently renovated by the United Nations Mission in South Sudan as part of its Quick Impact Project programme, holds more than 200 male and juvenile inmates and nine women.
Some 120 of them are crammed into two cells in a building measuring approximately 120 square metres in total. The no-frills structure (bare walls and a roof) was intended for 30-50 inmates, which goes to show that, with its current population, swinging a cat about is hardly an option. Another 100 or so prisoners inhabit a similar abode, with the nine women enjoying a comparatively spacious hut.
Yet, conditions used to be worse. The UNMISS-funded renovation included fitting windows (with bars) onto the cell walls.
“At least now we can breathe and not worry about suffocating or picking up respiratory diseases from each other,” one relieved inmate says.
Serving one meal a day, a late 3 pm lunch, offering no leisure or educational activities and with fourteen hours a day (from eight in the morning till six in the evening) spent inside, a night at Cueibet prison is still not likely to feature on anyone’s bucket list anytime soon.
The precarious facilities may offer an insight as to why a number of inmates have wanted, and successfully attempted, to make a dash for freedom. They have managed to escape despite the inclusion of a two-metre-tall fence, topped with a bit of barbed wire, in the Quick Impact Project renovation, and despite the eleven armed and watchful prison wardens lurking on the outside of the perimeter.
“This prison needs a higher fence, actually a high, proper wall,” Ralph says, with his peers behind bars voicing their agreement.
Prison Director Ambrose Marpel pinpoints the problem:
“The people of this area are Nilotic. They are very tall and can jump very high,” he says, adding that two prisoners escaped just a couple of days before our visit.
Overly congested cells, not enough food, insalubrious sanitary conditions, a lack of sports or other available outdoor activities and the absence of possibilities to use their time in prison to learn a new vocation are all items featuring on the inmates’ long list of grievances.
“Prisoners need to pick up new skills, like carpentry or something similarly useful, to prepare themselves for their return to civilian life. The rehabilitation part of being imprisoned is very important,” Ralph stresses.
Other, primarily younger, inmates miss being able to study, and want to go back to school.
Chol*, an 18-year-old boy, is one of them.
“I have to go back to school, because I want to become a politician and work in the local government in my area,” he says.
There is a hitch, however: Chol has been sentenced to capital punishment for murder.
A group of other prisoners approach us with a different kind of problem. Displaying a variety of skin rashes and vigorously scratching their genitalia, they are unhappy with the hygienic standards of their seemingly infection-infested ablution units.
“We want them to bring doctors to circumcise us. This will help us keep diseases away, as we share the same urinals,” one inmate believes.
According to Isaac Mayom Malek, minister of local government, better times lie ahead for those in captivity, with both sports activities and vocational trainings being considered.
“Insecurity was our biggest problem in the area. Now that we have peace, many government programmes will be implemented, including activities for the prisoners who are here,” he says, admitting that he does not, as of yet, have a time frame for this to happen.
“We have talked to doctors and they are organizing to come here to circumcise everyone who wants it done,” adds Mr. Marpel, commenting that two inmates underwent the procedure during the last medical visit to the prison.
The incarceration facilities in Cueibet hold a number of people on remand, charged with but not convicted of murder and other serious offences. Some of them have been here for more than two years without appearing before a judge, and they share a sentiment of “justice delayed is justice denied”.
The root cause of these extended detentions is that, till August this year, Cueibet did not have the kind of high court needed to try these cases.
Photo: UNMISS / Tonny Muwangala
1,000+ people protested against the Government's controversial proposed Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill at Devonshire Green in Sheffield.
The proposed Bill includes proposals that would give police and the Home Secretary increased powers to stop protests on grounds of “serious annoyance or inconvenience” which if you’re a government minister could mean all of them.
It’s a serious erosion of civil liberties and democratic rights.
Album: www.flickr.com/photos/shefftim/albums/72157718795475528
The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum is a museum chronicling the Cambodian genocide. Located in Phnom Penh, the site is a former secondary school which was used as Security Prison 21 (S-21; Khmer: មន្ទីរស-២១) by the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975 until its fall in 1979. From 1976 to 1979, an estimated 20,000 people were imprisoned at Tuol Sleng and it was one of between 150 and 196 torture and execution centers established by the Khmer Rouge. On 26 July 2010, the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia convicted the prison's chief, Kang Kek Iew, for crimes against humanity and grave breaches of the 1949 Geneva Conventions. He died on 2 September 2020 while serving a life sentence.
To accommodate the victims of purges that were important enough for the attention of the Khmer Rouge, a new detention center was planned in the building that was formerly known as Tuol Svay Prey High School, named after a royal ancestor of King Norodom Sihanouk, the five buildings of the complex were converted in March or April 1976 into a prison and an interrogation center. Before, other buildings in town were used already as prison S-21. The Khmer Rouge renamed the complex "Security Prison 21" (S-21) and construction began to adapt the prison for the inmates: the buildings were enclosed in electrified barbed wire, the classrooms converted into tiny prison and torture chambers, and all windows were covered with iron bars and barbed wire to prevent escapes and suicides.
From 1976 to 1979, an estimated 20,000 people were imprisoned at Tuol Sleng (the real number is unknown). At any one time, the prison held between 1,000 and 1,500 prisoners. They were repeatedly tortured and coerced into naming family members and close associates, who were in turn arrested, tortured and killed. In the early months of S-21's existence, most of the victims were from the previous Lon Nol regime and included soldiers, government officials, as well as academics, doctors, teachers, students, factory workers, monks, engineers, etc. Later, the party leadership's paranoia turned on its own ranks and purges throughout the country saw thousands of party activists and their families brought to Tuol Sleng and murdered. Those arrested included some of the highest ranking politicians such as Khoy Thoun, Vorn Vet and Hu Nim. Although the official reason for their arrest was "espionage", these men may have been viewed by Khmer Rouge leader Pol Pot as potential leaders of a coup against him. Prisoners' families were sometimes brought en masse to be interrogated and later executed at the Choeung Ek extermination center.
In 1979, the prison was uncovered by the invading Vietnamese army. At some point between 1979 and 1980 the prison was reopened by the government of the People's Republic of Kampuchea as a historical museum memorializing the actions of the Khmer Rouge regime.
Upon arrival at the prison, prisoners were photographed and required to give detailed autobiographies, beginning with their childhood and ending with their arrest. After that, they were forced to strip to their underwear, and their possessions were confiscated. The prisoners were then taken to their cells. Those taken to the smaller cells were shackled to the walls or the concrete floor. Those who were held in the large mass cells were collectively shackled to long pieces of iron bar. The shackles were fixed to alternating bars; the prisoners slept with their heads in opposite directions. They slept on the floor without mats, mosquito nets, or blankets. They were forbidden to talk to each other.
The day began in the prison at 4:30 a.m. when prisoners were ordered to strip for inspection. The guards checked to see if the shackles were loose or if the prisoners had hidden objects they could use to commit suicide. Over the years, several prisoners managed to kill themselves, so the guards were very careful in checking the shackles and cells. The prisoners received four small spoonfuls of rice porridge and a watery soup of leaves twice a day. Drinking water without asking the guards for permission resulted in serious beatings. The inmates were hosed down every four days.
The prison had very strict regulations, and severe beatings were inflicted upon any prisoner who disobeyed. Almost every action had to be approved by one of the prison's guards. The prisoners were sometimes forced to eat human feces and drink human urine. The unhygienic living conditions in the prison caused skin diseases, lice, rashes, ringworm and other ailments. The prison's medical staff were untrained and offered treatment only to sustain prisoners' lives after they had been injured during interrogation. When prisoners were taken from one place to another for interrogation, they were blindfolded. Guards and prisoners were not allowed to converse. Moreover, within the prison, people who were in different groups were not allowed to have contact with one another.[5]
Most prisoners at S-21 were held there for two to three months. However, several high-ranking Khmer Rouge cadres were held longer. Within two or three days after they were brought to S-21, all prisoners were taken for interrogation. The torture system at Tuol Sleng was designed to make prisoners confess to whatever crimes they were charged with by their captors. Prisoners were routinely beaten and tortured with electric shocks, searing hot metal instruments and hanging, as well as through the use of various other devices. Some prisoners were cut with knives or suffocated with plastic bags. Other methods for generating confessions included pulling out fingernails while pouring alcohol on the wounds, holding prisoners' heads under water, and the use of the waterboarding technique. Women were sometimes raped by the interrogators, even though sexual abuse was against Democratic Kampuchea (DK) policy. The perpetrators who were found out were executed. Although many prisoners died from this kind of abuse, killing them outright was discouraged, since the Khmer Rouge needed their confessions. The "Medical Unit" at Tuol Sleng, however, did kill at least 100 prisoners by bleeding them to death. It is proven that medical experiments were performed on certain prisoners. There is clear evidence that patients in Cambodia were sliced open and had organs removed with no anesthetic. The camp's director, Kang Kek Iew, has acknowledged that "live prisoners were used for surgical study and training. Draining blood was also done."
In their confessions, the prisoners were asked to describe their personal background. If they were party members, they had to say when they joined the revolution and describe their work assignments in DK. Then the prisoners would relate their supposed treasonous activities in chronological order. The third section of the confession text described prisoners' thwarted conspiracies and supposed treasonous conversations. At the end, the confessions would list a string of traitors who were the prisoners' friends, colleagues, or acquaintances. Some lists contained over a hundred names. People whose names were in the confession list were often called in for interrogation.
Typical confessions ran into thousands of words in which the prisoner would interweave true events in their lives with imaginary accounts of their espionage activities for the CIA, the KGB, or Vietnam. Physical torture was combined with sleep deprivation and deliberate neglect of the prisoners. The torture implements are on display in the museum. It is believed that the vast majority of prisoners were innocent of the charges against them and that the torture produced false confessions.
For the first year of S-21's existence, corpses were buried near the prison. However, by the end of 1976, cadres ran out of burial spaces, the prisoner and family members were taken to the Boeung Choeung Ek ("Crow's Feet Pond") extermination centre, fifteen kilometers from Phnom Penh. There, they were killed by a group of teenagers led by a Comrade Teng, being battered to death with iron bars, pickaxes, machetes and many other makeshift weapons owing to the scarcity and cost of ammunition. After the prisoners were executed, the soldiers who had accompanied them from S-21 buried them in graves that held as few as 6 and as many as 100 bodies.
Almost all non-Cambodians had left the country by early May 1975, following an overland evacuation of the French Embassy in trucks. The few who remained were seen as a security risk. Though most of the foreign victims were either Vietnamese or Thai, a number of Western prisoners, many picked up at sea by Khmer Rouge patrol boats, also passed through S-21 between April 1976 and December 1978. No foreign prisoners survived captivity in S-21.
Even though the vast majority of the victims were Cambodian, some were foreigners, including 488 Vietnamese, 31 Thai, four French, two Americans, two Australians, one Laotian, one Arab, one Briton, one Canadian, one New Zealander, and one Indonesian. Khmers of Indian and Pakistani descent were also victims.
Two Franco-Vietnamese brothers named Rovin and Harad Bernard were detained in April 1976 after they were transferred from Siem Reap, where they had worked tending cattle. Another Frenchman named Andre Gaston Courtigne, a 30-year-old clerk and typist at the French embassy, was arrested the same month along with his Khmer wife in Siem Reap.
It is possible that a handful of French nationals who went missing after the 1975 evacuation of Phnom Penh also passed through S-21. Two Americans were captured under similar circumstances. James Clark and Lance McNamara in April 1978 were sailing when their boat drifted off course and sailed into Cambodian waters. They were arrested by Khmer patrol boats, taken ashore, where they were blindfolded, placed on trucks, and taken to the then-deserted Phnom Penh.
Twenty-six-year-old John D. Dewhirst, a British tourist, was one of the youngest foreigners to die in the prison. He was sailing with his New Zealand companion, Kerry Hamill, and their Canadian friend Stuart Glass when their boat drifted into Cambodian territory and was intercepted by Khmer patrol boats on August 13, 1978. Glass was killed during the arrest, while Dewhirst and Hamill were captured, blindfolded, and taken to shore. Both were executed after having been tortured for several months at Tuol Sleng. Witnesses reported that a foreigner was burned alive; initially, it was suggested that this might have been John Dewhirst, but a survivor would later identify Kerry Hamill as the victim of this particular act of brutality. Robert Hamill, his brother and a champion Atlantic rower, would years later make a documentary, Brother Number One, about his brother's incarceration.
One of the last foreign prisoners to die was twenty-nine-year-old American Michael S. Deeds, who was captured with his friend Christopher E. DeLance on November 24, 1978, while sailing from Singapore to Hawaii. His confession was signed a week before the Vietnamese army invaded Cambodia and ousted the Khmer Rouge. In 1989, Deeds' brother, Karl Deeds, traveled to Cambodia in attempts to find his brother's remains, but was unsuccessful. On September 3, 2012, DeLance's photograph was identified among the caches of inmate portraits.
As of 1999, there were a total of 79 foreign victims on record, but former Tuol Sleng Khmer Rouge photographer Nim Im claims that the records are not complete. On top of that, there is also an eyewitness account of a Filipino, a Cuban and a Swiss who passed through the prison, though no official records of either are shown.
Out of an estimated 20,000 people imprisoned at Tuol Sleng, there were only twelve known survivors: seven adults and five children. One child died shortly after the liberation.[5] As of mid-September 2011, only three of the adults and four children are thought to still be alive: Chum Mey, Bou Meng, and Chim Meth. All three said they were kept alive because they had skills their captors judged to be useful. Bou Meng, whose wife was killed in the prison, is an artist. Chum Mey was kept alive because of his skills in repairing machinery. Chim Meth was held in S-21 for 2 weeks and transferred to the nearby Prey Sar prison. She may have been spared because she was from Stoeung district in Kampong Thom where Comrade Duch was born. She intentionally distinguished herself by emphasising her provincial accent during her interrogations. Vann Nath, who was spared because of his ability to paint, died on September 5, 2011. Norng Chan Phal, one of the surviving children, published his story in 2018.
The Documentation Center of Cambodia has recently estimated that, in fact, at least 179 prisoners were freed from S-21 between 1975 and 1979 and approximately 23 prisoners (including 5 children, two of them siblings Norng Chanphal and Norng Chanly) survived when the prison was liberated in January 1979. One child died shortly thereafter. Of the 179 prisoners who were released, most disappeared and only a few are known to have survived after 1979. It was found that at least 60 persons (out of the DC Cam list) who are listed as having survived were first released but later rearrested and executed.
The prison had a staff of 1,720 people throughout the whole period. Of those, approximately 300 were office staff, internal workforce and interrogators. The other 1,400 were general workers, including people who grew food for the prison. Several of these workers were children taken from the prisoner families. The chief of the prison was Khang Khek Ieu (also known as Comrade Duch), a former mathematics teacher who worked closely with Khmer Rouge leader Pol Pot. Other leading figures of S-21 were Kim Vat aka Ho (deputy chief of S-21), Peng (chief of guards), Mam Nai aka Chan (chief of the Interrogation Unit), and Tang Sin Hean aka Pon (interrogator). Pon was the person who interrogated important people such as Keo Meas, Nay Sarann, Ho Nim, Tiv Ol, and Phok Chhay.
The documentation unit was responsible for transcribing tape recorded confessions, typing the handwritten notes from prisoners' confessions, preparing summaries of confessions, and maintaining files. In the photography sub-unit, workers took mug shots of prisoners when they arrived, pictures of prisoners who had died while in detention, and pictures of important prisoners after they were executed. Thousands of photographs have survived, but thousands are still missing.
The defense unit was the largest unit in S-21. The guards in this unit were mostly teenagers. Many guards found the unit's strict rules hard to obey. Guards were not allowed to talk to prisoners, to learn their names, or to beat them. They were also forbidden to observe or eavesdrop on interrogations, and they were expected to obey 30 regulations, which barred them from such things as taking naps, sitting down or leaning against a wall while on duty. They had to walk, guard, and examine everything carefully. Guards who made serious mistakes were arrested, interrogated, jailed and put to death. Most of the people employed at S-21 were terrified of making mistakes and feared being tortured and killed.
The interrogation unit was split into three separate groups: Krom Noyobai or the political unit, Krom Kdao or the hot unit and Krom Angkiem, or the chewing unit. The hot unit (sometimes called the cruel unit) was allowed to use torture. In contrast, the cold unit (sometimes called the gentle unit) was prohibited from using torture to obtain confessions. If they could not make prisoners confess, they would transfer them to the hot unit. The chewing unit dealt with tough and important cases. Those who worked as interrogators were literate and usually in their 20s.
Some of the staff who worked in Tuol Sleng also ended up as prisoners. They confessed to being lazy in preparing documents, to having damaged machines and various equipment, and to having beaten prisoners to death without permission when assisting with interrogations.
When prisoners were first brought to Tuol Sleng, they were made aware of ten rules that they were to follow during their incarceration. What follows is what is posted today at the Tuol Sleng Museum; the imperfect grammar is a result of faulty translation from the original Khmer:
You must answer accordingly to my question. Don't turn them away.
Don't try to hide the facts by making pretexts this and that, you are strictly prohibited to contest me.
Don't be a fool for you are a chap who dare to thwart the revolution.
You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.
Don't tell me either about your immoralities or the essence of the revolution.
While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.
Do nothing, sit still and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet. When I ask you to do something, you must do it right away without protesting.
Don't make pretext about Kampuchea Krom in order to hide your secret or traitor.
If you don't follow all the above rules, you shall get many lashes of electric wire.
If you disobey any point of my regulations you shall get either ten lashes or five shocks of electric discharge.
During testimony at the Khmer Rouge Tribunal on April 27, 2009, Duch claimed the 10 security regulations were a fabrication of the Vietnamese officials that first set up the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum.
In 1979, Hồ Văn Tây, a Vietnamese combat photographer, was the first journalist to document Tuol Sleng to the world. Hồ and his colleagues followed the stench of rotting corpses to the gates of Tuol Sleng. The photos of Hồ documenting what he saw when he entered the site are exhibited in Tuol Sleng today.
The Khmer Rouge required that the prison staff make a detailed dossier for each prisoner. Included in the documentation was a photograph. Since the original negatives and photographs were separated from the dossiers in the 1979–1980 period, most of the photographs remain anonymous to this day.
The buildings at Tuol Sleng are preserved, with some rooms still appearing just as they were when the Khmer Rouge were driven out in 1979. The regime kept extensive records, including thousands of photographs. Several rooms of the museum are now lined, floor to ceiling, with black and white photographs of some of the estimated 20,000 prisoners who passed through the prison.
The site has four main buildings, known as Building A, B, C, and D. Building A holds the large cells in which the bodies of the last victims were discovered. Building B holds galleries of photographs. Building C holds the rooms subdivided into small cells for prisoners. Building D holds other memorabilia including instruments of torture.
Other rooms contain only a rusting iron bedframe, beneath a black and white photograph showing the room as it was found by the Vietnamese. In each photograph, the mutilated body of a prisoner is chained to the bed, killed by his fleeing captors only hours before the prison was captured. Other rooms preserve leg-irons and instruments of torture. They are accompanied by paintings by former inmate Vann Nath showing people being tortured, which were added by the post-Khmer Rouge regime installed by the Vietnamese in 1979.
The museum is open to the public from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. On weekdays, visitors have the opportunity of viewing a 'survivor testimony' from 2:30 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. Along with the Choeung Ek Memorial (the Killing Fields), the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum is included as a point of interest for those visiting Cambodia. Tuol Sleng also remains an important educational site as well as memorial for Cambodians. Since 2010, the ECCC brings Cambodians on a 'study tour' consisting of the Tuol Sleng, followed by the Choeung Ek, and finishing at the ECCC complex. The tour drew approximately 27,000 visitors in 2010.
S-21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine is a 2003 film by Rithy Panh, a Cambodian-born, French-trained filmmaker who lost his family when he was 11. The film features two Tuol Sleng survivors, Vann Nath and Chum Mey, confronting their former Khmer Rouge captors, including guards, interrogators, a doctor and a photographer. The focus of the film is the difference between the feelings of the survivors, who want to understand what happened at Tuol Sleng to warn future generations, and the former jailers, who cannot escape the horror of the genocide they helped create.
A number of images from Tuol Sleng are featured in the 1992 Ron Fricke film Baraka.
The Killing Fields are a number of sites in Cambodia where collectively more than 1,000,000 people were killed and buried by the Communist Party of Kampuchea during Khmer Rouge rule of the country from 1975 to 1979, immediately after the end of the Cambodian Civil War (1970–1975). The mass killings were part of the broad, state-sponsored Cambodian genocide.
Analysis of 20,000 mass grave sites by the DC-Cam Mapping Program and Yale University indicates at least 1,386,734 victims of execution. Estimates of the total deaths resulting from Khmer Rouge policies, including death from disease and starvation, range from 1.7 to 2.5 million out of a 1975 population of roughly 8 million. In 1979, Vietnam invaded Democratic Kampuchea and toppled the Khmer Rouge regime, ending the genocide.
The Cambodian journalist Dith Pran coined the term "killing fields" after his escape from the regime.
The Khmer Rouge regime arrested and eventually executed almost everyone suspected of connections with the former government or with foreign governments, as well as professionals and intellectuals. Ethnic Vietnamese, ethnic Thai, ethnic Chinese, ethnic Cham, Cambodian Christians, and Buddhist monks were the demographic targets of persecution. As a result, Pol Pot has been described as "a genocidal tyrant". Martin Shaw described the Cambodian genocide as "the purest genocide of the Cold War era".
Ben Kiernan estimates that about 1.7 million people were killed. Researcher Craig Etcheson of the Documentation Center of Cambodia suggests that the death toll was between 2 and 2.5 million, with a "most likely" figure of 2.2 million. After five years of researching some 20,000 grave sites, he concludes that "these mass graves contain the remains of 1,386,734 victims of execution". A United Nations investigation reported 2–3 million dead, while UNICEF estimated 3 million had been killed. Demographic analysis by Patrick Heuveline suggests that between 1.17 and 3.42 million Cambodians were killed, while Marek Sliwinski suggests that 1.8 million is a conservative figure. Even the Khmer Rouge acknowledged that 2 million had been killed—though they attributed those deaths to a subsequent Vietnamese invasion. By late 1979, UN and Red Cross officials were warning that another 2.25 million Cambodians faced death by starvation due to "the near destruction of Cambodian society under the regime of ousted Prime Minister Pol Pot", who were saved by international aid after the Vietnamese invasion.
Process
The judicial process of the Khmer Rouge regime, for minor or political crimes, began with a warning from the Angkar, the government of Cambodia under the regime. People receiving more than two warnings were sent for "re-education," which meant near-certain death. People were often encouraged to confess to Angkar their "pre-revolutionary lifestyles and crimes" (which usually included some kind of free-market activity; having had contact with a foreign source, such as a U.S. missionary, international relief or government agency; or contact with any foreigner or with the outside world at all), being told that Angkar would forgive them and "wipe the slate clean." They were then taken away to a place such as Tuol Sleng or Choeung Ek for torture and/or execution.[citation needed]
The executed were buried in mass graves. In order to save ammunition, the executions were often carried out using poison or improvised weapons such as sharpened bamboo sticks, hammers, machetes and axes. Inside the Buddhist Memorial Stupa at Choeung Ek, there is evidence of bayonets, knives, wooden clubs, hoes for farming and curved scythes being used to kill victims, with images of skulls, damaged by these implements, as evidence. In some cases the children and infants of adult victims were killed by having their heads bashed against the trunks of Chankiri trees, and then were thrown into the pits alongside their parents. The rationale was "to stop them growing up and taking revenge for their parents' deaths."[citation needed]
Prosecution for crimes against humanity
In 1997 the Cambodian government asked for the UN's assistance in setting up a genocide tribunal. It took nine years to agree to the shape and structure of the court—a hybrid of Cambodian and international laws—before the judges were sworn in, in 2006. The investigating judges were presented with the names of five possible suspects by the prosecution on 18 July 2007. On 19 September 2007 Nuon Chea, second in command of the Khmer Rouge and its most senior surviving member, was charged with war crimes and crimes against humanity. He faced Cambodian and foreign judges at the special genocide tribunal and was convicted on 7 August 2014 and received a life sentence. On 26 July 2010 Kang Kek Iew (aka Comrade Duch), director of the S-21 prison camp, was convicted of crimes against humanity and sentenced to 35 years' imprisonment. His sentence was reduced to 19 years, as he had already spent 11 years in prison. On 2 February 2012, his sentence was extended to life imprisonment by the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia. He died on 2 September 2020.
Legacy
The best known monument of the Killing Fields is at the village of Choeung Ek. Today, it is the site of a Buddhist memorial to the victims, and Tuol Sleng has a museum commemorating the genocide. The memorial park at Choeung Ek has been built around the mass graves of many thousands of victims, most of whom were executed after interrogation at the S-21 Prison in Phnom Penh. The majority of those buried at Choeung Ek were Khmer Rouge killed during the purges within the regime. Many dozens of mass graves are visible above ground, many which have not been excavated yet. Commonly, bones and clothing surface after heavy rainfalls due to the large number of bodies still buried in shallow mass graves. It is not uncommon to run across the bones or teeth of the victims scattered on the surface as one tours the memorial park. If these are found, visitors are asked to notify a memorial park officer or guide.
A survivor of the genocide, Dara Duong, founded The Killing Fields Museum in Seattle, US.
The Khmer Rouge is the name that was popularly given to members of the Communist Party of Kampuchea (CPK) and by extension to the regime through which the CPK ruled Cambodia between 1975 and 1979. The name was coined in the 1960s by then Chief of State Norodom Sihanouk to describe his country's heterogeneous, communist-led dissidents, with whom he allied after his 1970 overthrow.
The Khmer Rouge army was slowly built up in the jungles of eastern Cambodia during the late 1960s, supported by the North Vietnamese army, the Viet Cong, the Pathet Lao, and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Although it originally fought against Sihanouk, the Khmer Rouge changed its position and supported Sihanouk following the CCP's advice after he was overthrown in a 1970 coup by Lon Nol who established the pro-American Khmer Republic. Despite a massive American bombing campaign (Operation Freedom Deal) against them, the Khmer Rouge won the Cambodian Civil War when they captured the Cambodian capital and overthrew the Khmer Republic in 1975. Following their victory, the Khmer Rouge, who were led by Pol Pot, Nuon Chea, Ieng Sary, Son Sen, and Khieu Samphan, immediately set about forcibly evacuating the country's major cities. In 1976, they renamed the country Democratic Kampuchea.
The Khmer Rouge regime was highly autocratic, totalitarian, and repressive. Many deaths resulted from the regime's social engineering policies and the "Moha Lout Plaoh", an imitation of China's Great Leap Forward which had caused the Great Chinese Famine. The Khmer Rouge's attempts at agricultural reform through collectivization similarly led to widespread famine, while its insistence on absolute self-sufficiency, including the supply of medicine, led to the death of many thousands from treatable diseases such as malaria.
The Khmer Rouge regime murdered hundreds of thousands of their perceived political opponents, and its racist emphasis on national purity resulted in the genocide of Cambodian minorities. Summary executions and torture were carried out by its cadres against perceived subversive elements, or during genocidal purges of its own ranks between 1975 and 1978. Ultimately, the Cambodian genocide which took place under the Khmer Rouge regime led to the deaths of 1.5 to 2 million people, around 25% of Cambodia's population.
In the 1970s, the Khmer Rouge were largely supported and funded by the Chinese Communist Party, receiving approval from Mao Zedong; it is estimated that at least 90% of the foreign aid which was provided to the Khmer Rouge came from China. The regime was removed from power in 1979 when Vietnam invaded Cambodia and quickly destroyed most of its forces. The Khmer Rouge then fled to Thailand, whose government saw them as a buffer force against the Communist Vietnamese. The Khmer Rouge continued to fight against the Vietnamese and the government of the new People's Republic of Kampuchea until the end of the war in 1989. The Cambodian governments-in-exile (including the Khmer Rouge) held onto Cambodia's United Nations seat (with considerable international support) until 1993, when the monarchy was restored and the name of the Cambodian state was changed to the Kingdom of Cambodia. A year later, thousands of Khmer Rouge guerrillas surrendered themselves in a government amnesty.
In 1996, a new political party called the Democratic National Union Movement was formed by Ieng Sary, who was granted amnesty for his role as the deputy leader of the Khmer Rouge. The organisation was largely dissolved by the mid-1990s and finally surrendered completely in 1999. In 2014, two Khmer Rouge leaders, Nuon Chea and Khieu Samphan, were jailed for life by a United Nations-backed court which found them guilty of crimes against humanity for their roles in the Khmer Rouge's genocidal campaign.
The Cambodian genocide was the systematic persecution and killing of Cambodian citizens by the Khmer Rouge under the leadership of Communist Party of Kampuchea general secretary Pol Pot. It resulted in the deaths of 1.5 to 2 million people from 1975 to 1979, nearly a quarter of Cambodia's population in 1975 (c. 7.8 million).
Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge had long been supported by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and its chairman, Mao Zedong; it is estimated that at least 90% of the foreign aid which the Khmer Rouge received came from China, including at least US$1 billion in interest-free economic and military aid in 1975 alone. After it seized power in April 1975, the Khmer Rouge wanted to turn the country into an agrarian socialist republic, founded on the policies of ultra-Maoism and influenced by the Cultural Revolution. Pol Pot and other Khmer Rouge officials met with Mao in Beijing in June 1975, receiving approval and advice, while high-ranking CCP officials such as Politburo Standing Committee member Zhang Chunqiao later visited Cambodia to offer help. To fulfill its goals, the Khmer Rouge emptied the cities and forced Cambodians to relocate to labor camps in the countryside, where mass executions, forced labor, physical abuse, malnutrition, and disease were rampant. In 1976, the Khmer Rouge renamed the country Democratic Kampuchea.
The massacres ended when the Vietnamese military invaded in 1978 and toppled the Khmer Rouge regime. By January 1979, 1.5 to 2 million people had died due to the Khmer Rouge's policies, including 200,000–300,000 Chinese Cambodians, 90,000–500,000 Cambodian Cham (who are mostly Muslim), and 20,000 Vietnamese Cambodians. 20,000 people passed through the Security Prison 21, one of the 196 prisons the Khmer Rouge operated, and only seven adults survived. The prisoners were taken to the Killing Fields, where they were executed (often with pickaxes, to save bullets) and buried in mass graves. Abduction and indoctrination of children was widespread, and many were persuaded or forced to commit atrocities. As of 2009, the Documentation Center of Cambodia has mapped 23,745 mass graves containing approximately 1.3 million suspected victims of execution. Direct execution is believed to account for up to 60% of the genocide's death toll, with other victims succumbing to starvation, exhaustion, or disease.
The genocide triggered a second outflow of refugees, many of whom escaped to neighboring Thailand and, to a lesser extent, Vietnam. In 2003, by agreement between the Cambodian government and the United Nations, the Extraordinary Chambers in the Court of Cambodia (Khmer Rouge Tribunal) were established to try the members of the Khmer Rouge leadership responsible for the Cambodian genocide. Trials began in 2009. On 26 July 2010, the Trial Chamber convicted Kaing Guek Eav (alias Duch) for crimes against humanity and grave breaches of the 1949 Geneva Conventions. The Supreme Court Chamber increased his sentence to life imprisonment. Nuon Chea and Khieu Samphan were tried and convicted in 2014 of crimes against humanity and grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions. On 28 March 2019, the Trial Chamber found Nuon Chea and Khieu Samphan guilty of crimes against humanity, grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions, and genocide of the Vietnamese ethnic, national and racial group. The Chamber additionally convicted Nuon Chea of genocide of the Cham ethnic and religious group under the doctrine of superior responsibility. Both Nuon Chea and Khieu Samphan were sentenced to terms of life imprisonment.
Members and supporters of the Children’s Crusade for Amnesty pose in front of the White House April 29, 1922 on their first day of demonstrations seeking to meet with U.S. President Warren Harding to plea for the release those convicted of opposing World War I and the draft.
Picket signs include "Democracy and Political Prisoners Don't Mix," "Shall Justice Die?" "We are Innocent Victims,"
The U.S. passed the sedition, espionage and conscription acts during World War I that were in turn used to suppress dissent against the war. Any public opposition to the war could result in imprisonment and thousands received long prison sentences and/or were deported and/or had citizenship revoked for violating different provisions of the laws.
Among the most famous was Eugene Debs, the Socialist Party leader who campaigned for president from his jail cell and received nearly one million votes. Debs had been jailed for an antiwar speech in Canton, Ohio. He was released in December 1921 after a campaign to free him though his citizenship was not restored until 1976 when it was done posthumously.
Another well-known prisoner was Emma Goldman, a prominent anarchist who was jailed and deported to the Soviet Union for her views, despite being a naturalized citizen.
The “Children’s Crusade” was organized in St. Louis, Mo. during March and April 1922 by Kate Richards O’Hare who was herself imprisoned for fourteen months for war opposition and eventually involved relatives of the 132 political prisoners still sentenced for federal crimes. An unknown number of others had been jailed on state charges.
The crusade traveled by train to rallies in Chicago, Cleveland, Rochester, New York City and Philadelphia before arriving in the District of Columbia April 29th.
Over the next two months they would meet with various members of Congress and the U.S. Attorney General to plead their case. On May 3rd, the delegation presented formal petitions on behalf of the imprisoned to the White House.
The group also attended church services at Calvary Baptist Church at the same time as President Harding.
On June 1st the group began picketing the White House as Harding refused to meet with them and continued daily until August 3rd when the group suspended their picketing and issued a statement:
“We have been picketing the White House for almost two months because the President refused to receive our plea in person, and there was no other method open to us to call it to his attention. On July 19th he received a delegation of citizens representing appeals signed by over a million persons, and to them he gave assurance that the cases in which reconsideration had been applied for would be decided in sixty days. We are confident that an examination of the records will convince him that not a single man should be held any longer.”
Harding would release some additional prisoners just prior to Christmas that year, but others still remained imprisoned.
Background and outcomes
The U.S. First Amendment protecting free speech was abandoned during World War I as several thousand people were arrested for speaking out against the war or conscription into the armed forces and these jailings in turn spurred an amnesty movement.
U.S. involvement in the war only lasted from April 2, 1917 until the armistice in November 1918.
An amnesty movement for all war resisters gained strength, particularly after the war was ended and after President Woodrow Wilson left office in January 1921.
Leading up to 1917 and the declaration of war against Germany, many labor unions, socialists, members of the so-called Old Right, and pacifist groups in the United States publicly denounced participation. However when the U.S. entered the war, most segments of American society rallied around the war.
However, left wing socialists, anarchists and the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) denounced the war as an imperialist squabble between the wealthy of different nations over how to divide up the world. Quakers and other pacifists opposed the war on moral grounds
The military draft was introduced shortly after the U.S joined the war, which the anti-war movement bitterly opposed.
The Espionage Act of 1917 was passed to address spying but also contained a section which criminalized inciting or attempting to incite any mutiny, desertion, or refusal of duty in the armed forces, punishable with a fine of not more than $10,000, not more than twenty years in federal prison, or both.
Thousands of Wobblies (IWW members) and anti-war activists were prosecuted on authority of this and the Sedition Act of 1918, which tightened restrictions even more. Among the most famous was Eugene Debs, chairman of the Socialist Party of the USA for giving an anti-draft speech in Ohio. The U.S. Supreme Court upheld these prosecutions in a series of decisions.
An unknown additional number of people were prosecuted under state laws and jailed.
Conscientious objectors were punished as well, most of them Christian pacifist inductees into the armed services. They were placed directly in the armed forces and court-martialed, receiving log sentences and brutal treatment. A number of them died in Alcatraz Prison, then a military facility.
Vigilante groups were formed which suppressed dissent as well, such as by rounding up draft-age men and checking if they were in possession of draft cards or not.
Around 300,000 American men evaded or refused conscription in World War I. Immigrants, including naturalized citizens such as leading anarchist Emma Goldman, were deported, while native-born citizens, including Debs, lost their citizenship for their activities.
Perhaps 2,000 civilians convicted of sedition or under the Espionage law were held in military prisons at Fort Oglethorpe in Tennessee and Fort Douglas in Utah. They were mostly ordinary workers, including unemployed, and many whose only "crime" was to have been involved in radical politics or labor unrest. They were held along with German nationals suspected of disloyalty to the U.S. and German prisoners of war. Others convicted of political crimes were dispersed to the regular federal prison system.
After the war ended, other nations began to issue amnesty or commute the sentences of those convicted of political crimes during the war and pressure began to build in the U.S.
Delegations visited the White House in the ensuing years, including a 1920 group that included Basil M. Manly, former joint chair of the War Labor Board who said, “Washington pardoned the Tories and Lincoln pardoned the rebels. We believe President Wilson will not hesitate to grant general amnesty to the political prisoners of the world war.” Wilson, however, was unmoved.
The Sedition Act was repealed in 1921, but the Espionage Act remained, though U.S. Supreme Court decisions since then have substantially, but not explicitly, gutted the provisions used to squelch dissent.
Another delegation called on the White House April 18, 1921, along with meeting other top officials, marching by threes along the sidewalks and holding a mass meeting that evening at the Masonic Temple.
Among the delegation that met with President Warren Harding were Morris Hillquit of the Socialist Party; Rev. Norman Thomas, a later Socialist Party standard bearer; Jackson Ralston, attorney for the American Federation of Labor; and Albert DeSilver of the American Civil Liberties Union. A special appeal was made for Debs.
Debs, serving a 10-year sentence for sedition for his speech, had his sentenced commuted in December 1921 by President Warren Harding who had succeeded Wilson that year. Some 17 other prisoners also had their sentences commuted by Harding at that time.
The movement for amnesty began to gain steam as dozens of others remained imprisoned.
As 1922 began individuals and organizations around the country began to join the call for amnesty: the Georgia American Federation of Labor issued an appeal for amnesty, 50 member of Congress signed a petition for the same, socialist meetings demanding amnesty were held across the country while Quakers and other pacifists and socialists held public demonstrations.
In April 1922, the American Civil Liberties Union leader Roger Baldwin organized the Joint Amnesty Committee to coordinate activities across the country.
That same month, a million signatures on a massive petition gathered by the General Defense Committee of Chicago were delivered to the White House by Hillquit, who had also been an Socialist Party antiwar candidate for mayor of New York during the war in 1917 and drew 100,000 votes; the wife of Robert LaFollette, senator from Wisconsin; and James H. Maurer, president of the Pennsylvania Federation of Labor.
A Children’s Crusade comprised of the wives and children of some of those imprisoned and their supporters staged a well-publicized train trip across the country ending in Washington, D.C. where they picketed the White House and held meetings with government officials for a four-month period from April through August of 1922.
In August, Harding issued a statement refusing general amnesty, but committing to an expedited case-by-case review of anti-war prisoners.
The White House statement said in part, “he would never, as long as he was President, pardon any criminal who preached the destruction of the government by force.”
The idea that people were permitted free speech unless they committed or advocated “overt acts” would not be accepted as law until the late-1950s through the mid-1960s U.S. Supreme Court decisions on the imprisonment of Communist Party members during the second red scare.
The Children’s Crusade suspended their demonstrations after Harding’s statement feeling they had won as much as they would win at that time. However, other protest continued.
In December 1922, Harding issued another series of pardons and commutations, but many contained conditions of deportation and loss of citizenship.
In December 1923, President Calvin Coolidge commuted the sentences of all prisoners who had been convicted for opposing the government and Selective Service during World War I. By this point that commutation affected only 31 prisoners.
In March 1924, Coolidge restored the citizenship to those who had been convicted of desertion between the time of the Armistice of November 1918 and the war’s official end by the U.S. in 1921.
Coolidge’s successor Herbert Hoover refused to pardon or commute the sentences of any remaining prisoners or restore former prisoners citizenship in a 1929 letter to social activist Jane Adams, saying that any such decision would result in “acrimonious discussion” within the country.
It wouldn’t be until 1933 when President Franklin Roosevelt, 15 years after the end of fighting, issued a proclamation restoring civil rights to about 1,500 war resisters. The proclamation applied only to those convicted of violating the draft and espionage acts. There was no reduction in prison sentences, however, because all had already been released by that time and no restoration of rights for those convicted under the Sedition Act.
After a nationwide campaign involving petitions and resolutions, Debs’ citizenship was restored posthumously in 1976.
For more information and related images, see flic.kr/s/aHBqjzCcJd
This image is a Harris and Ewing photograph courtesy of the Library of Congress, Call Number: LC-H234- A-4379 [P&P]
Isabella Dodds was sentenced to 4 months at Newcastle Gaol for stealing a gold watch.
Age (on discharge): 17
Height: 4.9
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Place of Birth: Liverpool
Married or single: Single
Occupation: Servant
These photographs are of convicted criminals in Newcastle between 1871 - 1873.
Reference:TWAS: PR.NC/6/1/1274
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
To purchase a hi-res copy please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk quoting the title and reference number.
A gibbet is any instrument of public execution (including guillotine, executioner's block, impalement stake, hanging gallows, or related scaffold). Gibbeting is the use of a gallows-type structure from which the dead or dying bodies of criminals were hanged on public display to deter other existing or potential criminals. Occasionally, the gibbet was also used as a method of execution, with the criminal being left to die of exposure, thirst and/or starvation. The practice of placing a criminal on display within a gibbet is also called "hanging in chains".
Display
Gibbeting was a common law punishment, which a judge could impose in addition to execution. As a sentence for murder, this practice was codified in England by the Murder Act 1751. It was most often used for traitors, robbers, murderers, highwaymen, and pirates and was intended to discourage others from committing similar offenses. The structures were therefore often placed next to public highways (frequently at crossroads) and waterways.
Exhibiting a body could backfire against a monarch, especially if the monarch was unpopular. The rebels Henry of Montfort and Henry of Wylynton, enemies of Edward II, were drawn and hanged before being exhibited on a gibbet near Bristol. However, the people made relics of these bloody and mutilated remains out of respect and later used the relics in violent protest. Miracles were even reported at the spot where the bodies were hanging.
Although the intention was deterrence, the public response was complex. Samuel Pepys expressed disgust at the practice. There was Christian objection that prosecution of criminals should end with their death. The sight and smell of decaying corpses was offensive and regarded as "pestilential", so it was seen as a threat to public health.
Pirates were sometimes executed by hanging on a gibbet erected close to the low-water mark by the sea or a tidal section of a river. Their bodies would be left dangling until they had been submerged by the tide three times. In London, Execution Dock is located on the north bank of the River Thames in Wapping; after tidal immersion, particularly notorious criminals' bodies could be hung in cages a little farther downstream at either Cuckold's Point or Blackwall Point, as a warning to other waterborne criminals of the possible consequences of their actions (such a fate befell Captain William Kidd in May 1701). There were objections that these displays offended foreign visitors and did not uphold the reputation of the law, though the scenes even became gruesome tourist attractions.
Variants
In some cases, the bodies would be left until their clothes rotted or even until the bodies were almost completely decomposed, after which the bones would be scattered.
In cases of drawing and quartering, the body of the criminal was cut into four or five portions, with the several parts often gibbeted in different places.
So that the public display might be prolonged, bodies were sometimes coated in tar or bound in chains. Sometimes, body-shaped iron cages were used to contain the decomposing corpses. For example, in March 1743 in the town of Rye, East Sussex, Allen Grebell was murdered by John Breads. Breads was imprisoned in the Ypres Tower and then hanged, after which his body was left to rot for more than 20 years in an iron cage on Gibbet Marsh. The cage, with Breads's skull clamped within the headframe, is still kept in the town hall.
Another example of the cage variation is the gibbet iron, on display at the Atwater Kent Museum in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The cage, created in 1781, was intended to be used to display the body of convicted pirate Thomas Wilkinson, so that sailors on passing ships might be warned of the consequences of piracy; Wilkinson's planned execution never took place, so the gibbet was never used.
Historical examples
Antiquity
The Old Testament and Torah law forbid gibbeting beyond sundown of the day that the body is hanged on the tree. Public crucifixion with prolonged display of the body after death can be seen as a form of gibbeting. Gibbeting was one of the methods said by Tacitus and Cassius Dio to have been used by Boudica's army in the massacre of Roman settlers in the destruction of Camulodunum (Colchester), Londinium (London) and Verulamium (St. Albans) in AD 60–61.
Bermuda
During the 17th and 18th centuries, gibbets were a common sight in Bermuda. Located in Smith's Parish at the entrance to Flatt's Inlet is Gibbet Island, which was used to hang the bodies of escaped slaves as a deterrent to others. The small island was used for this purpose because it was not on the mainland and therefore satisfied the beliefs of locals who did not want gibbets near their homes.
Canada
The gibbet in which Marie-Josephte Corriveau was exhibited after her execution, the "cage" of La Corriveau
Marie-Josephte Corriveau (1733–1763), better known as "La Corriveau", is one of the most popular figures in Québécois folklore. She lived in New France, was sentenced to death by a military tribunal of twelve British officers for the murder of her second husband, was hanged for it, and her body hung in chains. Her story has become legendary in Quebec, and she is the subject of numerous books and plays.
During the Napoleonic Wars, the Royal Navy used Hangman's Beach on McNab's Island in Halifax Harbour to display the hanged bodies of deserters, in order to deter the crews of passing warships.
Colony of New South Wales
A rocky outcrop not far into Port Jackson – originally called Mat-te-wan-ye in the local Aboriginal language, later renamed Rock Island by Governor Arthur Phillip but today known as Pinchgut Island and the location of Fort Denison – was a gibbeting site. It took its name after a convict, Thomas Hill, was sentenced to a week on the rock in iron chains sustained by only bread and water; the conditions literally pinched his gut, hence the name. The rock was levelled in the 1790s, and a gibbet installed in 1796. Francis Morgan, transported for life to New South Wales after being convicted of murder in 1793, killed again in 1796 and was hanged in chains on Pinchgut in November 1796. His dead body, later a skeleton, remained on display on the island for four years.
England
The head of Oliver Cromwell was displayed on a spike after his death, after monarchists disinterred his body during the restoration of the monarchy.
Robert Aske, who led the rebellion against Henry VIII known as Pilgrimage of Grace, was hanged in chains in 1537.
Germany
The leaders of the Anabaptist movement in Münster were executed in 1536; their dead bodies were gibbeted in iron cages hanging from the steeple of St. Lambert's Church, and the cages are still on display there today. Similarly, following his execution by hanging in 1738, the corpse of Jewish financier Joseph Süß Oppenheimer was gibbeted in a human-sized bird cage that hung outside of Stuttgart on the so-called Pragsattel (the public execution place at the time) for six years, until the inauguration of Karl Eugen, Duke of Württemberg, who permitted the hasty burial of his corpse at an unknown location.
The Netherlands
After the siege and capture of the city of Zutphen in 1591 by the Anglo-Dutch army, the English dug up the body of the former English commander Rowland York and hanged and gibbeted it as a reminder of York's treachery in 1587. He had handed over the Zutphen sconce to the Spaniards after the English army under the Earl of Leicester was defeated by the Spaniards in the Battle of Zutphen.
Iran
In 838, the Iranian hero Babak Khorramdin had his hands and feet cut off by the Abbasid Caliphate and was then gibbeted alive while sewn into a cow's skin with the horns at ear level to crush his head gradually as the skin dried out.
Malta
On 4 February 1820, six British pirates were hanged on their vessel in the middle of the harbour at Valletta. Thereafter, their bodies were hung in gibbets erected at the bastions of Fort Ricolli. Lieutenant Hobson of HMS Spey, in the tender Frederick, had apprehended them and their vessel in the harbour at Smyrna.
United States
During the colonial era, Bird Island and Nix's Mate island in Boston Harbor were used for gibbeting pirates and sailors executed for crimes in Massachusetts. Their bodies were left hanging as a warning to sailors coming into the harbor and approaching Boston. In 1755, a slave named Mark was hanged in Cambridge, Massachusetts and then gibbeted in chains in Charlestown, Massachusetts; twenty years later, Paul Revere passed the remains of Mark on his famous ride.
Six men were executed by gibbeting under civil authority in the Southern Colonies.[18] In Virginia, three men accused of piracy were executed by gibbeting in 1700. In South Carolina, three men were executed by gibbeting: one accused of poisoning in 1744, and two accused of murder in 1754 and 1759.
There have been no recorded executions using this method under the authority of the United States. However, a gang of Cuban pirates were gibbeted in New York c. 1815.
Last recorded gibbetings
Afghanistan
The January 1921 issue of National Geographic Magazine contains two photographs of gibbet cages, referenced as "man-cages," in use in Afghanistan. Commentary included with the photograph indicates that the gibbet was a practice still in active use. Persons sentenced to death were placed alive in the cage and remained there until some undefined time weeks or months after their deaths.
Australia
In 1837, five years after the practice had ceased in England, the body of John McKay was gibbeted near the spot where he had murdered Joseph Wilson near Perth, in the colony of Van Diemen's Land. There was a great outcry, but the body was not removed until an acquaintance of Wilson passed the spot and, horrified by the spectacle of McKay's rotting corpse, pleaded with the authorities to remove it. The place where this occurred was just to the right (when travelling towards Launceston, not to be confused with the private road with the same name) on the Midlands Highway on the northern side of Perth.
In the Colony of Western Australia, gibbeting of executed Indigenous people continued into the mid-1850s. In 1855, Aboriginal men Yandan and Yoongal were executed in Perth for separate murders, with their bodies then "conveyed under escort to York, there to be suspended in some conspicuous part of the district, where such a spectacle would be likely to prove a warning, and prevent a repetition of the murders which have of late been prevalent in the neighbourhood".
United Kingdom
The Murder Act 1751 stipulated that "in no case whatsoever shall the body of any murderer be suffered to be buried"; the cadaver was either to be publicly dissected or left "hanging in chains". The use of gibbeting had been in decline for some years before it was formally repealed by statute in 1834. In Scotland, the final case of gibbeting was that of Alexander Gillan in 1810. The last two men gibbeted in England were William Jobling and James Cook, both in 1832. Their cases are good examples of the changing attitudes toward the practice.
William Jobling was a miner hanged and gibbeted for the murder of Nicholas Fairles, a colliery owner and local magistrate, near Jarrow, Durham. After being hanged, the body was taken off the rope and loaded into a cart and taken on a tour of the area before arriving at Jarrow Slake, where the crime had been committed. Here, the body was placed into an iron gibbet cage. The cage and the scene were described thus:
The body was encased in flat bars of iron of two and a half inches in breadth, the feet were placed in stirrups, from which a bar of iron went up each side of the head, and ended in a ring by which he was suspended; a bar from the collar went down the breast, and another down the back, there were also bars in the inside of the legs which communicated with the above; and crossbars at the ankles, the knees, the thighs, the bowels the breast and the shoulders; the hands were hung by the side and covered with pitch, the face was pitched and covered with a piece of white cloth.
The gibbet was a one-foot (30 cm) in diameter with strong bars of iron up each side. The post was fixed into a one-and-a-half-long-ton (1,500 kg) stone base sunk into the Slake. The body was soon removed by fellow miners and given a decent burial.
James Cook was a bookbinder convicted of the murder of his creditor Paas, a manufacturer of brass instruments, in Leicester. During an attempted robbery, Cook beat Paas to death, and then took the body to his home, where he cut it into pieces and burned it to try to hide the evidence of the crime. He was executed on Friday, 10 August 1832, in front of Leicester prison. Afterwards:
The head was shaved and tarred, to preserve it from the action of the weather; and the cap in which he had suffered was drawn over his face. On Saturday afternoon his body, attired as at the time of his execution, having been firmly fixed in the irons necessary to keep the limbs together, was carried to the place of its intended suspension.
His body was to be displayed on a purpose-built gallows 33 feet (10 m) high in Saffron Lane near the Aylestone Tollgate. According to The Newgate Calendar:
Thousands of persons were attracted to the spot, to view this novel but most barbarous exhibition; and considerable annoyance was felt by persons resident in the neighbourhood of the dreadful scene. Representations were in consequence made to the authorities, and on the following Tuesday morning instructions were received from the Home Office directing the removal of the gibbet.
Hanging a body in chains was a post execution punishment that was used for those criminals who had committed heinous crimes. Smugglers were not usually hung in chains post execution. However during the mid nineteenth century a smuggling gang known as the Hawkhurst Gang, operated along the South coast of England between Kent and Dorset; their violent crimes coincided with the authorities desire to punish smugglers on the South coast and deter others from smuggling. Of the 75 members of the gang that were caught and convicted 14 were sentenced to gibbeting. Unusually the bodies were distributed around the area as a deterrent, rather than near where they lived, or the scene of the crime.
Although the practice of gibbeting had been abandoned by 1834 in Britain, during the British Raj of India in 1843, Charles James Napier threatened to have such structures built in parallel to any attempt to practice Sati, the ritualized burning of widows, to execute the perpetrators.
In popular culture
Works of art depicting gibbeting include:
Known as "Le Gibet", the second movement of composer Maurice Ravel's piano suite Gaspard de la nuit is based on the poems of Aloysius Bertrand.
The 2006 film Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest features a prisoner in a gibbet in one of the opening scenes, where he is graphically pecked to death by crows.
In the 1988 fantasy classic Willow, Val Kilmer's character Madmartigan is suspended in a gibbet at the beginning of the film.
Crow cages and other forms of gibbeting are shown in the 1982 film Conan the Barbarian.
Sweeney Todd the Barber, sung by Stanley Holloway in his album, 'Ere's 'Olloway, refers to Sweeney Todd's demise: "And there on the gibbet/He hangs in his chains..."
South Shields is a coastal town in South Tyneside, Tyne and Wear, England; it is on the south bank of the mouth of the River Tyne. The town was once known in Roman times as Arbeia and as Caer Urfa by the Early Middle Ages. It is the fourth largest settlement in Tyne and Wear, after Newcastle upon Tyne, Sunderland and Gateshead.
Historically within the ceremonial county of Durham, South Shields is south of North Shields and Tynemouth across the River Tyne; and east of Newcastle upon Tyne and Jarrow.
The first settlers of the South Shields area were the Brigantes, although there is no evidence they built a settlement at South Shields. The Romans built a fort there to help supply Hadrian's Wall. Many ruins still exist today. The fort was abandoned as the empire declined.
In the 6th century, northeast England became a centre of education as part of the Kingdom of Northumbria. The Vikings raided the area in the 9th century, establishing settlements and controlling most of northern England.
The town was founded in 1245, and developed as a fishing port. Salt-panning became began in 1499. During the Civil War, parliament's Scottish allies captured the town, leading the royalists to flee south, leading to the Battle of Boldon Hill.
In the Victorian era, coal mining led to a boom in the town, increasing from 12,000 in 1801 to 75,000 by the 1860s. The rapid growth made sanitation a problem. In the 1850s, shipbuilding became a prominent industry.
Zeppelin airships attacked the town in World War I, and Nazi air raids caused damage and death in World War II. Throughout the 20th century, industry declined and services and tourism played an increasing role in the economy.
Foundation and Roman Times
The earliest inhabitants of the area were the Brigantes, a strong and fiercely independent Briton tribe however there is no evidence to suggest they built a settlement where the present day town now stands. It was John Leland in the 16th century who first suggested the town had been known as 'Caer Urfa.' The Brythonic word 'Caer' meaning a fortified place or seat of royal power, 'Urfa' is suggested to be a simple corruption of 'Vide Infra' the Aramaic name for the Roman stronghold.[1] (broken link)
A large Roman fort has been excavated in South Shields on the Lawe Top, overlooking the River Tyne; it has been the setting for an investigation by the Channel 4 archaeological television programme Time Team. Founded c. AD 120 the fort is mentioned in The Notitia Dignitatum (a list of forts and bases compiled in the 4th century) where it is referred to as Arbeia. Arbeia, meaning "place of the Arabs" (one of the garrisons being the Tigris Boatmen from modern day Iraq), was intended as the maritime supply fort for Hadrian's Wall, and contains the only permanent stone-built granaries yet found in Britain. It was occupied until the Romans left Britain in the 5th century. A Roman gatehouse and barracks have been reconstructed on their original foundations, while a museum holds artefacts such as an altarpiece to a previously unknown god, and a Roman-era gravestone set up by a native Palmyrene to his freedwoman and wife, a Briton of the Catuvellauni tribe. There is also a tablet with the name of the emperor Alexander Severus (died 235) chiselled off. The fort was at the end of a road named Wrekendike, connected to a larger road which led between Newcastle (Pons Aelivs) and Chester-Le-Street (Congangis); parts of this road are still visible in Wrekenton near Gateshead. The Romans also built a small wharf in nearby Marsden Bay for the purposes of loading sandstone from a quarry. The wharf's remnants are still extant, although time and tide have left little to see. Arbeia was abandoned by the Romans c. 400, when Emperor Honorius informed the people of Britain that they must look to their own country's defence. One of the many peoples to take advantage of the Roman Empire's collapse were the Anglo-Saxons.
Dark Ages
Britain in the 6th century is often considered a confused and violent place, the Romans taking their laws, gods and legions with them, when they left. However, the north east of England became a centre of learning and education, a beacon of light throughout Europe. King Oswald of Northumbria united the kingdoms of Bernicia to the north of the River Tees and Deira to the South creating the powerful and influential Kingdom of Northumbria. In AD 647 King Oswy of Northumbria (Oswald's Brother)[2] at the request of St. Aidan allowed a monastery to be built. The site today is in the very town centre of South Shields and is named St. Hilda's Church although the original Anglo-Saxon building is but a remnant under the present Norman nave. St. Hilda's was one of many monastic institutions along the coast of north east England including Jarrow, where the Venerable Bede lived and worked.
C. AD 865 the monastery at St. Hilda's was raided by the Vikings . However the Vikings or Danes weren't just raiders; they created settlements, brought new customs, laws and Gods, effectively controlling all of northern England. This form of government was known as the Danelaw. The Anglian (or Danish) influence can be seen to this day; the Geordie accent which contains words of Danish origin and has many more Anglo-Saxon pronunciations than standard English.
Middle Ages
In 1100 the Normans built St Hilda's church where the nunnery once stood, in the town's market place. The church remains one of the oldest churches in the UK.
The first reference to 'Scheles' (fishermens' huts) occurs in 1235, and the town proper was founded by the Prior and Convent of Durham in 1245 . On account of the complaints of the burgesses of Newcastle upon Tyne, an order was made in 1258, stipulating that no ships should be laden or unladen at Shields, and that no shoars or quays should be built there. However, South Shields subsequently developed as a fishing port.
Salt panning along the Tyne began in 1499 and achieved major importance; Daniel Defoe speaks of the clouds of smoke being visible for miles, while a witness in 1743 mentions two hundred boiling-pans. Glass manufacturing was begun by Isaac Cookson in the 1730s and there were eight glass works by 1827 . Coal mining and chemical manufacture also became important. South Shields had the largest alkali works in the world.
In 1644, during the English Civil War, Parliament's Scottish allies under Alexander Leslie, 1st Earl of Leven wanted to capture the Tyne and Newcastle upon Tyne. Leslie captured the fort on the Lawe Top, following a lengthy siege. After the capture, the Royalist forces retreated to the south and evidence suggests a consequential skirmish may have occurred in the small town of Boldon, the ensuing skirmish is known as the Battle of Boldon Hill, though the topography of Boldon is not favourable for a battle.
19th century
Following the Reform Act of 1832, championed by Lord Grey and the Whigs, County Durham was able to return two members for two divisions, and the boroughs of Gateshead and South Shields acquired representation.
The coal industry flourished in Victorian times, drawing immigrants from far and wide. In South Shields the population soared from approximately 12,000 in 1801 to 75,000 by the late 1860s. Collieries in South Shields included:
Templetown (1805–1826)
St. Hilda's (1810–1940)
West Harton (1844–1969)
Boldon (1869–1982)
Marsden (1879–1968)
Whitburn (1879–1968)
Westoe (1909–1993)
Coal mining was very hazardous. Shafts could collapse at any time and before the safety lamp was invented in 1815 naked flames carried by miners to light their way could ignite gas underground causing explosions and many deaths. Some mines even had shafts that stretched several miles out under the sea.
Overcrowding in the town made sanitation a problem, partly solved by Cleadon Water Pumping Station (a large tower erected in 1858 above the town following an outbreak of cholera).
South Shields' place at the mouth of the Tyne with shifting and unpredictable sand bars and channels into the river meant that ships frequently ran aground. Following one such incident the world's first self-righting lifeboat was designed by William Wouldhave in 1790.
In the 1850s, with the Tyne's growing shipbuilding industry and the mouth of the Tyne. South and North Shields needed to stop the flow of sand that threatened shipping. In 1854 the first foundations were laid of the North and South Piers. They were both completed in 1885.
An engineering problem was encountered in managing the new piers. The sand on Littlehaven Beach was now flowing up the Tyne through the incoming tide. As a solution the Herd Groyne Pier was erected in 1882.
South Shields-born Charles Palmer opened his shipyard in 1851 at Jarrow, at first building wooden ships and then moving onto iron. His shipyard patented rolled armour-plate for warships. In 1865 Alderman John Readhead founded his shipyard John Readhead & Sons in South Shields, which built small cargo ships and colliers for clients the world over until the yard was closed in 1968. Various slipways and dry docks can still be seen today stretching from Tyne Dock towards the mouth of the Tyne.
Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775–1851. 'Shields on the River Tyne' 1823
Turner made an engraving of Shields on the River Tyne in 1823. This is now in Tate Britain in London. He also painted Keelmen Hauling Coals by Night in 1835, having himself rowed out into the Tyne at Jarrow Slake in order to do so.
The town became famous for its maritime industries and the Marine School was founded by Dr. Thomas Winterbottom in 1837. Originally in Ocean Road, it is now part of South Tyneside College in Westoe Village and has an international reputation. From the late 1980s to 2008 it possessed the nationally unique combined public observatory and planetarium, which has provided education and entertainment for twenty thousand children a year. During the industrial boom years of the 19th century, many notable public buildings were built across the town, reflecting its wealth. These included the Customs House of 1848.
South Shields was incorporated as a municipal borough in 1850 under the Municipal Corporations Act 1835. It became a county borough in 1889 with the passing of the Local Government Act 1888, and remained as such until 1974 when it became part of the Metropolitan Borough of South Tyneside in the (now former) county of Tyne and Wear.
The Shields Gazette, founded in 1849, is the oldest provincial evening newspaper in the United Kingdom.
20th century
In 1908–1909, The Harton Coal Company (which by this time owned all of the collieries in South Shields and the surrounding area, as well as the Marsden limestone quarries) embarked on a scheme to almost completely electrify their collieries, both above and below ground, including the network of lines connecting the collieries at St. Hilda, Harton and Westoe (then known as Benthouse) to staithes on the river. Wagons of coal from Boldon and Whitburn were steam-hauled to sidings in the town, where they could be collected by electric locomotives. Siemens carried out the electrification work, as well as supplying the locomotives for use on the electrified sections of the railway. When this work was completed, the electricity used by the HCC at the five collieries amounted to around 6% of that available to the coal industry as a whole, which for a time made it one of the largest single users of electricity in the entire country. The last of the "Harton Electrics" were retired in 1989. Four of the locomotives are preserved: E4 at the Stephenson Railway Museum, E2 at Beamish Museum, with E10 and the AEG-built E9 at the Tanfield Railway. The Rattler pub on the seafront is named after the passenger service run primarily for miners by the HCC between Westoe Lane Station and Whitburn Colliery, using a motley collection of second-hand rolling stock, which gave a very rough ride and resulted in its rather unflattering nickname. Most of the trackbed of the colliery railway has either been built on or turned into footpaths.
The impressive South Shields Town Hall of 1910 bears a copper weather vane in the form of a galleon. The town's crest (pre-1974) featured the lifeboat and the associated motto – Always Ready – which was later adopted as the motto of South Tyneside.
Zeppelin airships raided the Tyne in World War I and the town's seafront amusement park was attacked in 1915. In World War II, South Shields suffered well over 200 air raid alerts and 156 people were killed. Many houses were damaged, particularly by incendiary bombs and parachute mines. One direct hit on the market place killed more than 40 people who had taken shelter in tunnels below the square. There was a memorial to them in the form of a cobbled Union Flag on the ground of the market square, however, this was removed as part of an overhaul of the town centre in the late 1990s.
South Shields lost more seafarers than any other port in Britain during World War II.
The celebrated artist L S Lowry spent frequent periods at the Seaburn Hotel in Sunderland, and painted a number of works in South Shields.
Historically the town was part of County Durham, but it became part of Tyne and Wear in 1974.
In 1977 the town was visited by boxer Muhammad Ali, whose wedding was blessed in the local mosque at Laygate. The visit has since been the subject of a BBC documentary. Ali visited the town after receiving an invitation from a local boys' boxing club.
On 1 September 1987, Johnny Cash performed an open-air concert at Bents Park. Recently a 'lost' interview was discovered, the only interview granted by Cash just before this show.
South Shields has undergone significant economic change in the light of de-industrialisation. Service industries, including tourism and retail, play an increasing role in the economic make-up of the town and indeed across the wider area.
The Firehydrant..chapter one..Busted..an excerpt from a story set in 1973/74
After that first court appearance in the Windsor courthouse I was sitting in the back of the paddy wagon being transported along with a few other criminals to the county bucket a five minute or so ride from the courthouse. I was still pretty high, if you look at it from a different perspective, I’d been high for about four or five years. Once, years earlier at the Don Gaol in Toronto, I was serving a four day weekend when these two cool hip looking Yankee dudes asked me what the prices were on the streets for weed and hash, shit like that. They had all the hippie trappings, long hair, hawk like features from looking over their shoulders too often. Briefly I thought maybe they were cops, plants, but they were Americans and had just left the O.R. in Guelph where they knew my buddy Coop de Grasser who was the head of the inmate committee at that time. I knew the difference in body language and voices from that of common pigs, they gave me that term, “we’ve been high for seven years, then we got busted” they had a Cheech and Chong quality about them especially in the eyes, they were crazies too, coming from California I could grasp their earlier introduction to the Herb.
Sitting in that wagon, (nic nac paddy whack, paddy wagon gonna take ya back, lock ya up and thro away the keys) handcuffed to some murderer or child molester, it just didn’t feel right, or seem right. I was not in the same criminal category as “those” criminals. They were bad, I just sold recreational drugs, which made people happy. I looked out the unmarked vans wired windows at some familiar sights. There was the Ambassador Bridge the Hippies at school had marched on the year before protesting for an end to the war in Vietnam while the Simon and Garfunkel song A Bridge Over Troubled Water played over loudspeakers. It was the same bridge Pete Kalci and self used to score the Hookers, buy the case of Ripple Wine, cross over to attend the Ravi Shankar and Traffic concerts. The very same bridge that took you to Ann Arbour and all the hip people living near those Michigan campuses. I was feeling greasy, very dirty, sweat was stinking up my armpits, my new blue leisure jacket was all wrinkled from being used as a pillow in the police station cell the night before where I once again carved the initials CTuna into the institutional paint.
Prison is a very sobering experience. That morning in the courtroom a man in his thirties, a violent robber, he threatened the people he robbed, gave them a smack with a gun to get their attention, you’d think this guy was rock solid, wouldn’t crack, no matter what. He started to ball when they gave him eight years in Federal Penitentiary, His lawyer had pleaded for leniency as he had a wife and a new baby on the way. You could tell the judge wasn’t swayed by this plea bargaining, he had to protect society from this monster repeat offender. Downstairs in the dungeon like remand cells I stayed away from him he was so emotionally distraught he might of lashed out at me.
You don’t get to pick your company in jail. At the county prison where I would be held for six weeks waiting for my trial and sentencing I was put through the usual routines, fingerprinted, again as I had already been fingerprinted at the police station the night before when I was arrested. At the county jail your clothes are taken from you and put in a bag with your name on them. The intake officer instructs you to have a shower in this big stall that was doorless. Afterwards you are instructed to stand there while a another officer sprays you for lice with a pressure mister that resembles a brass plant and weed sprayer similar to one you would use in your garden to kill bugs. All loose things like lighters, smokes, pills, cough candies, change, had been put into a manila envelope with your name on it at the police station downtown. This included my teacher/friends Don and Carol’s car keys to their car which I had parked on one of the upper floors at the Toronto Airport before taking the flight to Windsor. The paddy wagon driver another pink faced anglo saxon refugee handed that manila envelope over to the guard on duty when we arrived through the heavy steel gates and through a small brick lined tunnel into the courtyard of the very old county jail, the steel gates clanked shut automatically.
The desk guard had each of us answer some rudimentary questions, sex, race, age, education, religion, he looked startled and upset when he heard I was Taoist (pronounced Daoist). This was my spiritual flavour of the month, a Chinese faith based on the worship of Nature.
My bed for the next six weeks was located on the second tier of the three tiered old thick stone building built I would think in the last century. On this tier there were three other wards each ward holding a dozen cages/cells/cribs, each cell comprised of a steel bed a dull once stainless steel washbasin and a similar steel toilet without a seat, a piece of four inch square stainless steel was mounted above the sink, the mirror. The tier was designed to allow a single guard to patrol all four wards on the floor from the command centre located in the centre of the unit. There were always two guards on each floor one in the booth, the other always roaming. A roll of toilet paper had been issued to me as well as a cheap toothbrush and some tooth powder a threadbare facecloth and a towel big enough to dry your face and hands. A twenty five watt bulb glowed in the ceiling above, it would be on from six in the morning, till lights out at ten.
Home Sweet Home. My roommates were of various criminal backgrounds, there was a tall skinny biker with greasy yellow hair like the kind a worker at a wrecking yard might have, he was in for rape, his partner slept in the next set of cells, a portly unshaven fellow possibly related to a black bear or Kentucky mountain person, he was also in for rape, the two of them belonged to the Loners M.C, the local biker club. Next to me in the adjoining cell was a guy named Bill Hoskins who was quiet, had a scared look on his face, hadn’t shaved in a while, slightly receding, looked a bit like Garth Hudson of the Band, he was in on a smuggling marijuana charge and was not pleased with his circumstances. Little Mikey was the ward comic, shit disturber, go between, who was the one who bridged social classes and intermingled with all types, a chatterbox. There were a few quiet chaps and there was a young likeable guy all tattooed with crudely tattooed LOVE and HATE on his knuckles who it seemed had spent most of his young life in jail. He was just hoping to get sent to a prison in the area The Burtch Institution, he spoke of Burtch the way we would usually talk about home. Besides this motley crew there was one guy who everyone liked, I don’t recall his name, it might have been Jim he was coming down from using junk, he was dark haired and sort of reminded me of the Veteres from my youth, my neighbourhood Mt.Dennis, this Jim, he was street wise, quick to talk, he’d been around for his young twenty something age.
In very quick fashion a new person is sized up by the powers on the ward of any prison in any country, and it isn’t very long before the new prisoners place in the prison pack is established. For some reason my popularity irritated the power and after a few days I was asked to give the bad guys smokes while we were out in the small yard strolling around getting fresh air, I gave this some thought and passed out a few TMs as tailor made cigarettes were called but not without some resistance, the bikers weren’t very pleased to have a smart ass comparatively wealthy guy like myself around who might wrestle the minds of the weaker members of the pack from them.
As usual I became quite popular, my ability to tell stories and write stories about the fabled life in Toronto, the apartment building full of drugs (Rochdale) had every ones eyes bulging out. By this time two black brothers from Detroit were in the same ward with a minor infraction, they passed themselves off as bona fide black 'gangstas', I bought their story, they needed a connection to some crystal meth in TO and I turned them on to a pair of bikers who were living in the west end and whom I thought might appreciate the referral. As it was I had a list of phone numbers hidden in my shoes under the lining which along with some of my street clothes I was allowed to wear after they had been fumigated and cleaned since I was on remand and not yet officially a ward of the government. The black guys got bail fast, I never saw them again. Later in life the guys I referred them to paid me a visit as I worked the day shift at the Queensbury Arms, they weren’t pleased with my introduction. It could have been curtains for me, had I not been able to think on my feet. They thought the black guys may have been cops..
There was a crooked screw (guard) on the floor who for a price would smuggle in drugs and other contraband for those who had money and cravings. His name was Sidney and he was very tight with the diverse criminal element. In every prison man ever created there have been bent guards. Up to this time in life I had only known the soft side of Windsor, the niceties of the University scene, this was a much different perspective as the other folk I was now incarcerated with thought this situation as one of their schools of higher learning, a step in the ladder of criminality.
To help make time pass we played cards at the larger than picnic table sized metal tables that were bolted to the floor along with metal benches that were also bolted I suppose so no one would use them to hit each other with. A box shaped colour TV set sat in one corner of the ward. It was hung on one of those hospital style adjustable mounts and it was only put on at certain times, in the evenings from 7 to 10 or a bit later if something that was important was being shown. On weekends that TV might be on all day, starting with cartoons in the morning, which I recall quite a few of the people enjoying, then sports, and then hockey at night. There wasn’t much to do on weekends everybody’s routines ground to a halt.
The news story of the day was Richard Nixon’s impeachment from office. The previous year it seemed as if I had lost touch with events in the world. On reflection it may have been a lack of interest in the news that television and other media fed you. Lacking very many options at this time I began to join the herd and watched and laughed at All in The Family. The dreaded hockey games were on Saturday nights. Hockey is a Canadian staple and there were fierce conversations about various teams. Being so close to Detroit made for a lively rivalry, there weren’t as many teams in the league, it was an easier sport to appreciate.
Besides these time fillers I wrote pages and pages of short stories, some lyrical, like poems or songs. One in particular was a rhyming story about a “Gypsy Caravan” that parked under the full moon and where my lost love wept for me as I’d been sent to war. There were numerous verses and choruses, it was in my eyes a grand work. Several of the inmates would gather around the table as I would recite these stories, I recall Jim the Junkie giving the story his blessing and that was quite important for me as his sense of beauty and appreciation was different than the others. The other prisoners on remand held him in awe for some reason, he was like a Robin Hood type, a criminal All Star born and raised in Windsor. He got out on bail and a short while later word filtered back that he had died of an overdose of heroin and I always felt good that I had painted this nice scene for him of gypsies and love along a riverbank in golden days, like a Van Morrison lyric and his praise still ranks with the praise of others given me over the years.
Perhaps that is where my new nickname came from, that story about the gypsies. Around then someone tagged me with the title ‘Gypsy’ and it stuck right through my prison life. It took a while at first to get used to the new title, after all, nicknames were nothing new to me, as a kid I had been called Brooks by Bud Walford after Brooks Robinson the ballplayer with the Baltimore Orioles, Barb Sue Kevin and Shane often called me Weaver “Hey Weave” when we were younger playing cards on Victoria Blvd, then early on I used to carve my initials into the poured concrete sidewalks all over our area called Mount Dinky. C Tuna I would carve, using a stick or a piece of rock. Around this time there was a cartoon character called Charlie Tuna who was seen in tv advertisements for the Starkist Tuna company, there was a jingle with the ads and the ads were based on the premise that only the finest Tunas were good enough for Starkist customers and old Charlie a suave, Jackie Gleason type of Tuna with slicked back hair was always thrown back in to the sea. C Tuna was scraped also in the odd prison cell of Toronto’s #12, #31 and #52 Divisions as well as the gritty Don Gaol and now Windsor. One time, in Toronto I woke up from a drunken stupor and a police man at the #52 Divison asked me, “are you Charles Gregory aka C Tuna?” I replied I was, and was curtly charged with being drunk in a public place. I went back to sleep and was released in the morning, I couldn’t have been much more than sixteen.
My long relationship with the drink started around fifteen or so. While hanging out at Nick’s Pool Hall on Weston Road near Eglinton I met guys who were a bit older and liked to drink, especially on the weekends. An older guy named Bud a good pool player would go to the beer store and buy us a box of beer, I had developed a taste for it. Today, when I reflect on this behavior I have difficulty in recalling why I drank so much to the point often of blacking out as the consumption of beer became mixed with that of hard alcohol, whiskey, scotch etcetera. A common Saturday night would find me drinking a dozen beers with a mickey of Johnny Walker red as a chaser. At one time, I had been arrested six weekends in a row for drinking under age, drinking in a public place, drunk and disorderly…My mom was fed up bailing me out on Sunday mornings at the local police holding cells, located in the police stations, 31 division and 12 division. The fine for such behavior was usually $25 or $35 dollars or three days in jail. Not once do I recall anyone saying, this boy needs counseling. I may have been such a ‘tough nut’ that they felt it would have been a waste of time.
My friend George Holmes loved shouting out “here comes Tuna Fish” up at the corner of Keele and Eglinton during my greaseball period. This period took place between frat days and hippy days. Around town in my greaseball days that name C Tuna was recognizable up in the Junction, over on St Clair at Blackthorn and as well at Lansdowne and St Clair, also farther west towards Jane and Wilson and in Weston proper. I suppose the greasers up at Dufferin and Eglinton like Kenny Tanaka and Danny MacDonald had also known my AKA. It wasn’t that I was a prize fighter or anything a moniker was more a Title like that of a knight or a duke, sort of a right of passing, like a coming of age. Lots of guys had nick names just like the TV gangsters of the day, or the good guy bad guys in cowboy films. Names that quickly come to mind are, Hook, Coop de Grassser, Gooch, Scarecrow, Mars, Jake the Snake, Crazy Ivan, Fat Jack Hamilton, Mod, Vern the Tern, Dump, Butler, The Kid, Toot, Count, one guy, my friend Dave Wellwood had several nick names, The Goat, News, The General, Pee Wee and on and on.
Chassly Gangbusters was a favourite of the Hook and Coop years, Herbie used to like calling me Storch it was his invention he’d say it ‘Storch’ then back off a few steps in case I’d give him a smack, I always gave him a nasty sneer when he called me that. Charlie, Chuck, Chas, but almost never Charles. My name comes from a friend of my dads, Charles Bishop who died in the second war. Lately Schmiddy has been calling me the Kaliph of Keene which I really like. In the tradition of moms father Leon Yamel, actually Noel Lemay I’ve often tagged myself as Selrahc Yrogerg, this dates back to my saying words backwards while I waited to get on the field at the Smythe Park baseball league.
After a few days in the ward I could almost feel the drugs leaving my system and after two or three weeks I’d never been so clean, voluntarily. Even when I had the Hepatitis at Rochdale earlier that winter I was toking the finest hash and bud available. I must admit there was a new clarity to my mental comprehension, I could not adjust myself with other substances, alcohol included.
The food was awful, repetitive, I smoked like a chimney, there was a few hundred dollars in my pocket when I was picked up, I don’t recall the figure exactly. These funds in prison buy a lot of tobacco! To keep the peace I gave out as many smokes as required to avoid the bad guys wanting to shank me. We played cards night and day to pass the time, if anything I can remember that in particular, the time passing real slowly. That’s what more seasoned guys were saying that once you got where you were going, once you were sentenced you would find that your days took on structure and time was easier to do. This kind of time, waiting to be sentenced is called Dead Time and rightly so.
Michael Snyder the lawyer supplied free via the government legal aid program was a little lame in court during my first appearance. I took him aside and chewed him out. I wrote a letter to the court system, maybe the judge or the Attorney Generals Office, I’m not sure. The crooked screw Sidney read the letter and informed the lawyer of my dissatisfaction this got his attention and he did a fine job afterwards. I wonder if that letter ever made it out of that place.
Bill Hoskins as it turns out was in for a serious smuggling rap that he was not telling any of us about. He was on a sailing boat that had come up from the Bahamas area loaded with marijuana. The pot was hidden in false walls built into the customized ship, tons and tons of gange. As advisory counsel for my defense he nixed my hand written ten page dialogue about my historical accounting of the events leading up to my arrest, from the dysfunctional family situation with big Al at home which I used as my starting point in the dialogue, nixed the U.I.C. appeals process where I was cut off pogey for quitting my position without proper reason, nixed it all. He said to get a bunch of people to write letters who could speak for your good side, which in point of fact wasn’t so long ago, just the previous year I was bringing the teachers apples and cleaning the chalk off of the blackboards.
Turns out Sidney the crooked guard did me a favour by reading the mail that I had addressed to the law society and others regarding my lawyers lameness. When the lawyer caught wind of this he rushed in to appease me. Three weeks in the bucket passed and I was anxious to get on with things, when asked how I wished to plead it was a no brainer, I pled guilty. In court the judge found me guilty of all the charges, trafficking in narcotics, marijuana, hashish, peyote, acid, there was no blow left and I guess they didn’t bother to analyze the salt like crystal meth, there wasn’t much of it. I sat in the dock, again resolved, resolved not to break down and cry when sentenced like that other guy had done. I had to wait three more weeks for sentencing as the judge had asked for a pre-sentence report, which is like a record of your life, the details of your life, your failures and your successes if any. I recall finding this worrisome, although in my mind, having recently attended university under trying (at home) circumstances as a mature student, I felt I was on the right track, just jumped off the track momentarily.
That morning back in the court holding cells this big young Coloured man, I repeat, this was a big, strong athletic mean and angry twenty year old who wore those thick soled, tan coloured boots that motorcycle riders wore in the day, Fry Boots was their name. A diddler, a full grown twenty something farm kid from the sticks had just been returned to the holding cells in the basement of the court house, he walked with his head down, ashamed and afraid at the same time. As if in a movie the cell area was dimly lit an invitation for terror.
The farm kid went into a cell at the back of the block, none of the cell doors were locked. In court it came out that a couple of young girls had been molested the day before, quite young, under ten or so. You know how they say the jail system has its own way of getting folk, well this kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That big negro boy took his hatred out on that boy, he went into that cell and put the boots to the farm kids face, his gut, his balls, his legs, you name it, he got hit real hard. Nobody, no prisoner, no guard interfered I just watched stunned, I didn’t try to break it up, I just watched in my own kind of terror, that’s the way it can be in prison for diddlers they get no mercy, they are garbage. The guards very slowly came and broke it up, put the diddler in a solitary area, by this time his assailant had left the cell, he just brushed pass us all, me the other prisoners, the guards and took a seat in a cell holding his head in his hands, the screws never even bothered to ask what had happened, then we all went to the jailhouse in the paddy wagon, the diddler got separate transportation. Funny, I never saw that black guy again, he may have gone up to court and been given bail.
At the county bucket they put the diddler in a cell on my ward. That night we got him there as well but in a different way. Myself and others made a mixture of shit and piss, cold tea, spit and saliva, toilet water any vile substance we could find and poured it all over him as he lay in a back corner of the ward, not saying a word, afraid for his life, afraid to say anything, I mean we really humiliated him, I was a big part of this humiliation, this hazing, it was worse than a military blackballing. I’d been involved as a recipient in a mild fraternity hazing, I suppose that is where I got the idea. Over the years I’ve had a lot of remorse about this event but I still hold that this punishment, this prison tar and feathering was better than him losing his life, his balls or an eye or an ear.
They moved the big scared blonde haired blue eyed farm boy diddler from the ward that night put him into solitary confinement. In the visiting room the next day Frankie Herbert’s dad Frank Sr. came to visit, my first visit in nearly a month. Mr. Herbert worked as a travelling salesman for a big novelty company, he toured Ontario selling kitschy stuff like bingo markers, and roulette wheels and all sorts of things fundraising organizations use in their work and that large corporate stores stocked. At the same time Frank Sr. was visiting the diddler was visiting his dad, telling his dad through his pulverized face that I was one of his enemies, one of the perpetrators of his black eyes and bruises. That diddler, he don’t know how close he come to dying in that cell downtown. Frank Sr. he just looked at this farm kid with the shiners, looked at me, Frank Sr. he knew what the score was, he just shook his head, my father figure, surrogate dad visiting his son in gaol. Years earlier, Mr. Herbert had put up bail for me when the RCMP had placed a bag of pot in our groups car (actually a stretch Cadillac limo) as we tried to enter the Rockwood Festival. We had heard via the radio that everyone was getting busted that heading to the concert so we had stopped and stashed our goods in the woods, a ways from the entrance. The other five people were given bail but I was refused because of a previous minor offence. The charges were all thrown out in court later. I told the RCMP, this guy last name of Ryan, that if I saw him on the streets, I would kick the shit of him!
A couple of university school chums paid a visit one day after I had been sentenced, Tim, a bright musician type from the university showed up with my old baked and breaded sardine dinner girlfriend, Mary Lewis. That was kind of them to show up at that depressing place, it was the last time I ever saw or heard from them except when I contacted Mary Lewis and she sent me a year book from the university. A book I looked at maybe twice then mysteriously wrapped in several windings of masking tape for thirty years and hid in a milk crate with several old photo albums on top, securing its hiding place, was that my soul in that book? Who was that guy?
Bill the Smuggler had a birthday card sent in from someone on the outside, in the card, on the nose of the clown they had poured some liquid LSD and Bill did some, offered me a taste, I declined, felt the surroundings not conducive to a good trip. Bill laid some on the bikers to secure their loyalty. Now here you have these three or four biker types running around all looney, higher than kites, grooving to the little AM radio playing in the corner, digging the tunes, staring at hallucinations only they could see. In a way it was like the lawyer in Easy Rider getting turned on, except these were bad guys, getting all soft and mushy, I stayed in my crib that night until the party settled down. I think I was scared the bikers might be able (through the power of acid) be able to see my true feelings for them. Like many a night I read to sleep. Dostoyevsky offered imaginable experiences to escape to.
Next day in the yard the bikers were hovering together, conspiring, they were good at that, at joining forces, intimidation by numbers. At some point this middle aged black inmate took an epileptic fit, started shaking all over, fell to the ground, I thought he had been shot, the guards blew their stupid whistles they thought someone had beaten the guy up. We all had to stand at attention while the screws came and took the fellow away on a stretcher. It was a cool forty five degree F morning, the sun was shining. The heavy grey cloth winter coats we’d been issued had to be turned in when we went back inside, it felt so good being out in the yard, the fresh air, the bit of Spring green showing on the small lawn. Another inmate pointed out where they used to do the hangings, there remained a shuttered doorway a few levels up I was also shown where they used to bury the bodies they had hung, this was becoming a real adult experience.
يقول علماء النفس إن 99 بالمائة من مخاوفنا وهمية
لا توجد إلا بخيالنا و ليس لها أي أساس من الصحة
الخوف ليس إلا مجرد حالة ذهنية و الحالة
الذهنية قابله للسيطرة و التوجيه إذا وجدت الدوافع
نجد هذا الطفل دوافعه للركوب كانت أكبر من مخاوفه
ربي يحفظه وهو كاتب وصيته بجيبه
خخخخخ
Members of Women’s Strike for Peace picket in front of the Selective Service headquarters at 1724 F Street in Washington, D.C. July 10, 1968 protesting the sentencing of Dr. Benjamin Spock and three others for conspiracy to aid and abet draft resistance.
Spock, a prominent pediatrician and antiwar activist; Rev. William Sloane Coffin; Michael Goodwin, a writer and college instructor; and Michael Ferber, a college graduate student were all sentenced to two years in prison the same day. Another defendant, a founder of the Institute for Policy Studies Marcus Raskin, had been acquitted in the earlier trial.
They were also fined $5,000 except Ferber who was fined $1,000.
All five men joined a rally by about 1,000 people at Boston Commons, near where the sentencing took place, and vowed to continue their antiwar activities.
Federal Judge Francis J. W. Ford had no tolerance for the men saying the charge against the men “amounts to rebellion against the law Rebellion against the law is in the nature of treason. The law demands obedience.”
The judge further said that it would be “preposterous” if the four convicted of inciting draft evasion should “escape under the guise of free speech.”
The men never served jail time as their convictions were overturned on appeal.
The case was one of many conspiracy trials that took place during the Vietnam War as the federal government targeted those they perceived to be leaders of the antiwar movement. Nearly all of those conspiracy trials resulted in either acquittals, hung juries or convictions overturned on appeal.
For more information and related images, see www.flickr.com/gp/washington_area_spark/Q034FH
The photographer is unknown. The image is a United Press International photograph housed in the D.C. Library Washington Star Collection.
What's a sentence?
How can you go wrong with a ghost in a book store? The most accessible book by her yet!!!! Read it!
www.arqueologiadelperu.com/mrta-leader-released-served-25...
Peter Cardenas Schulte, considered the No.2 man in the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement, MRTA, was released this week from the maximum security prison at the naval base in Callao. He has served his 25-year sentence, on a conviction of aggravated terrorism.
Cardenas was convicted in March 2006 but his time was calculated from the date he was arrested, in April 1992, plus the 18 months he served in 1988-89 without charges.
Operating as The Sicilian or Alejandro, Cardenas was on the MRTA's central committee with the founder, Victor Polay, and two others, and was one of the heads of the annihilation squad for Metropolitan Lima, which assassinated army Gen. Enrique Lopez-Albujar, shot in his car at a traffic stop in San Isidro, and kidnapped Hector Delgado Parker, the key member in the family-owned business of Panamericana TV.
At the time Cardenas was arrested, he had been driving freely throughout the city in a van with tinted windows, even going to the beaches south of Lima to surf.
He was found guilty of executions, murders, and theft, and personally responsible for the kidnappings of Delgado Parker and the pharmaceutical CEO Hory Chlimper, and of the use of anti-tank rockets against the ministries of Education and Finance, and against the home of Finance minister Carlos Boloña.
He told his interrogators of the “people's jails” where they had held the business executives they kidnapped for ransom.
The MRTA's list of kidnapped executives was a who's who of the country's leading industrialists and entrepreneurs, including Ferreyros, Fukuda, Miyasato, Furukawa. Jose Antonio Onrubia of the Romero Group was held for 18 months in shipping container, with no natural light and no running water. Mining executive David Ballon, 60, was held for also close to 18 months, shot dead and left in a back street in San Miguel district — he had lost 40 kilos and showed signs of torture.
In 1990, shortly before President Alan Garcia handed over the government to the newly elected Alberto Fujimori, Cardenas planned, financed and led the building of a tunnel to allow the escape of MRTA founder Victor Polay and 47 other MRTA combatants from the Miguel Castro Castro prison. At the time of the escape, political analyst Mirko Lauer commented that the tunnel led straight to the government palace — Victor Polay and Alan Garcia had grown up together as sons of Apra members and later shared rooms at the Sorbonne University in Paris.
The Truth & Reconciliation Commission, CVR, spoke to Cardenas during their research in 2001-2003. He never apologized for being an MRTA militant but asked forgiveness for his crimes. “To ask them for forgiveness for having left them without parents, sons or brothers, for having made them suffer. I ask them for forgiveness from the depths of my soul,” Cardenas said.
Cardenas has served his sentence but he still owes the State S/. 50 million (about $50 mn) in civil damages.
“The Prosecutor's Office will not let the civil redress go unpaid. This person needs to get a job and he will have to pay, just like other convicts,” said Milko Ruiz, the state prosecutor for terrorism cases.
Hector John Caro, a former chief of the Counter-Terrorism Office (Dircote), told Canal N TV that Peter Cardenas was one of the most bloodthirsty and cruel terrorists Peru has ever had.
In Caro's opinion, Cardenas has not changed in jail. “He has perfected himself, reading several revolutionary books.”
Ketin Vidal, in a phone conversation to the same TV program, disagreed with Caro's attitude.
“We live within the rule of law and the law must be complied with, whether we like it or not, he had to be released,” Vidal said. “And that is what will happen with other leaders of Sendero and MRTA.”
Vidal, who agrees that Cardenas is exceptionally bloodthirsty and cruel, was head of Dircote when Cardenas was captured —and months later when Abimael Guzman of the Shining Path was captured.
“We gain nothing by insulting them, shouting, by saying they were the worst, they were the devil. That's not how we fought against Sendero nor against the MRTA. We defeated them by organizing operative intelligence units within Dircote,” Vidal added, calling for greater emphasis by the police and Interior ministry on intelligence work.