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Pub, former townhall / Pulheim / Rhein-Erft-Kreis / North Rhine-Westphalia / Germany
Album of Germany (the west): www.flickr.com/photos/tabliniumcarlson/albums/72157713209...
Built as RDG 3402 in December 1974, CSX 4310 sits idled awaiting work orders for the evening in Charlottes pinoca yard. Before arriving in NC, 4310 has spent its over 30 year career stationed in numerous spots in Florida and south Georgia.
it's lunch time, you've been on the phone all morning, you're tired and hungry, you put your hat and shades on and bout two steps away from stepping out for a long needed break and a bite to eat, then the phone rings, it's your boss...what do you do?
I took a selfie and sat back down...
This photo shows a number of chess pawns lined accprding to their size. It is a free and easy allegory (or maybe a harsh truth) referring to some professional career. And what is your opinion? Feel free to express it in the comment section under this photo. And don't forget to give it a little star.
She enjoys the beach so much, Merry thinks she will try selling sea shells down by the sea shore.
This is Prima Dolly Marigold, one of my older Blythe dolls. I usually reach for a new girl when it's photo time, so she is one of many who don't get as much exposure as I wish they did. Her sunny coloring is perfect for this "sea shore" theme in the Blythe a Day group.
Snapped this one on my way out the door, going to work in the morning. New suit and new purse.........I felt absolutely wonderful even though it's a Monday morning. :-)
Paintings 2012-14
The Pace of Nature, which were exhibited in October 2013. There was also a selection of my Ipsden paintings (winter) shown at West Ox Arts Gallery in December 2013. The past 18 month have been among the most busy of my entire career as a painter, and the work has been very focussed upon working "En Plein Air" both here in Oxfordshire and during the summer in Michigan USA.
An Interview with me in Glow Magazine
And about my iPad work...
Featuring an interview on Witney TV about iPad art
My first book on Ipsden featuring the autumn paintings and studies 2012
Many of these paintings are still available for sale, please contact me via Flickr-mail if you are interested in details.
Located between village Liepa and the primeval valley of River Gauja.
Lode clay deposit was discovered in 1953 by the geologist J.Slienis. Ten years later industrial extraction of clay for brick-making was started. The clay-pit became world famous when the geologist V.Kuršs in 1970 first time in the history of the world discovered well preserved fossils of Upper Devonian armoured fish and Strunius kurshi fish. Still nowhere else fish fossils in such good condition have been discovered; part of the fossils can be viewed in the expositions and funds of Latvian Museum of Natural History. Nowadays clay is extracted by the company „Lode“ which produces finishing, oven-chimney, and construction bricks, as well as other clay items. The Lode armoured fish deposit is a protected nature monument.
Information taken from www.entergauja.com/
Bree's career in the military has had her in our DC area community for the last 4 years. She was recently promoted and reassigned to a new unit based in upstate New York! We honored her contributions not only to our local TG community but also to our military's TG community with a farewell dinner, a photo timeline presentation of many of Bree & my times together, a couple of nice speeches, and also awarded her with a lovely plaque with the inscription:
"To Lt. Col. Bree Fram U.S. Air Force
In recognition of your steadfast dedication and leadership in support of the Trans Military Service Members & our DC Area Trans Community.
Aim high and keep up the good fight."
Until next time, my dear friend!
My ensemble for the evening consists of my long sleeve black lycra spandex leotard from the Baltogs custom cut line by nydancewear.com, my black wet look lycra spandex side slit maxi-skirt with mesh insets from greatglam.com, my shiny black Platino Clean Cut 15 denier pantyhose from shapings.com worn over Hanes Alive Barely There support hose from onehanesplace.com and my black leather T-strap peep toe platform pumps with the 5" heels from venus.com.
To see more pix of me in other tight, sexy and revealing outfits click this link:www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157623668202157/
To see more pix of me in other outfits from Great Glam click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157621973539909/
To see more pix of me in wet look lycra spandex outfits click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157625106117954
To see more pix of me in my Baltogs lycra spandex dancewear click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157617535517907/
To see more pix of me out & about click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157632318953102/
To see more pix of me showing off my legs click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157623668202157/
To see more pix of me with friends and acquaintances click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157622620508143/
DSC_4483-8
Over 50 years ago as a young farm teenager, baling hay, milking cows and cleaning out hog sheds by hand guided my career decisions more than almost anything. In this photo, the past and the present of farming lie side by side. Round bales replaced the back breaking work of loading and unloading bales on a hay trailer. Few windmills in Minnesota still pump water and the old graineries have been largely replaced by newer methods of drying crops.
St. Patrics Cathedral on 2016 Christmas Eve.
New York’s First Cathedral: The Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral
Written by Joyce Mendelsohn, 2001
Edited and updated by James E. Garrity, 2015
The Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral is the original Cathedral of the Archdiocese of New York. Since its construction 200 years ago on the corner of Mott and Prince, it has stood as the heart of old New York; a beacon for the Catholic faithful and an American symbol of religious freedom. Originally the center of a once impoverished Irish community, St. Patrick’s has expanded to serve a diverse community of Catholics from Italian, Hispanic, Asian, and various other origins. Today, our Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral remains a vital force in the community which proudly unites Catholics through worship, social groups and spiritual guidance.
The History of Catholicism in New York
The history of our city's Catholicism begins in the 17th century with French-born Fr. Isaac Jogues, a Jesuit who landed in New York State. Fr. Jacques was one of the North American Martyrs sent as missionaries to the Quebec Hurons in the early 1640s. He escaped capture and torture by an Iroquois war party in 1643 with the help of Dutch Calvinists who smuggled him by boat to New Amsterdam (later renamed New York) where he was warmly welcomed as “a martyr of Jesus Christ” by Willem Kieft. Father Jogues sailed back to Europe upon learning that 18 different languages were spoken among the settlement population numbering some 500, described as having “the arrogance of Babel.” He later returned as an Iroquois missionary though he was seized and murdered in 1649 by a member of the Mohawk tribe. His canonization was in 1930 by Pope Pius XI.
Peter Stuyvesant proceeded Kieft with openly hostility to public worship by religions other than the Dutch Reformed Church which remained even after the British gained control in 1664 of what became New York. The small Catholic population only gained esteem in 1674, when King James II (a Roman Catholic convert) granted religious liberty to the province which still lacked a its own place of worship. In 1683, King James II appointed an Irish Catholic Colonel Thomas Dongan to govern New York under his “Charter of Liberties and Privileges” which granted religious freedom to all Christians. However, the fall of the Catholic Stuarts in England due to the Protestant “Glorious Revolution” of 1688 drove Dongan from his post, ending the brief religious liberty in the province and ushering in a law in 1700 that prohibited Catholic priests from entering the city as per the provincial assembly. Despite these restrictions, Jesuit Ferdinand Steenmayer snuck into the city to celebrate Mass in secret on several brave occasions.
Upon the anti-Catholic law being repealed (1784) in the now sovereign state of New York, an Irish Capuchin friar Charles Whelan arrived in the city to help organize what would become the first Catholic parish in the independent United States. New York’s Catholic community numbered less than 1,000 of the total 230,000 populating the land from French, Spanish, Portuguese, German, and Irish descent. Nevertheless, the Roman Catholic Church in the City of New York was incorporated in 1785, led by the French consul and largely financed by a donation from King Charles III of Spain. Construction then commenced on the first Catholic house of worship in the city - St. Peter’s Church.
Opening Mass was celebrated on November 1, 1786, in the small, Georgian- style building located on the corner of Barclay and Church streets in lower Manhattan. Severely damaged in the Great Fire of 1835 (a conflagration that raged for three days and destroyed 674 buildings), the original wood frame building was replaced in 1840 by the present monumental granite structure, designed in the classicaltradition.
Pierre Toussaint And Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton
Two extraordinary parishioners are connected with St. Peter’s Church: Pierre Toussaint, who is being considered for canonization, and Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton, the first native-born American saint.
Toussaint, born in Haiti in 1766, was brought as a slave to New York in 1787. When his owners fell upon hard times, he became a successful hairdresser, at the same time quietly waiting on and supporting the household. After the death of his owners, the former slave purchased his wife’s freedom and became a leader of the free black community in New York.
Pierre Toussaint devoted his life to aiding the poor and the sick—opening his home to black orphans, raising funds to support a Catholic orphanage and school, and entering quarantined zones to nurse victims of epidemics that ravaged the city.
Toussaint worshiped at St. Peter’s Church for sixty-six years and was buried in the cemetery of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in 1853. In 1989, his remains were removed and brought to St. Patrick’s Cathedral uptown as the first step in the cause for his beatification. Within St. Peter’s Church is a life-size marble statue of Elizabeth Ann Seton, who was born in New York in 1774 into a devout Episcopalian family. At age nineteen, Elizabeth Ann Bayley married wealthy businessman William Seton. They raised a family of five children in a gracious home at 7 State Street facing Battery Park, which is now the Shrine of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton. As a young wife and mother who became deeply involved in assisting the poor, Mrs. Seton was widely known as the “Protestant Sister of Charity.” After her husband’s death, the widow—always deeply spiritual—was drawn to Catholicism and in 1805 was received into the Catholic faith at St. Peter’s Church.
Elizabeth Ann Seton turned for guidance to BishopJohnCarroll. He had been appointed as the first Bishop in the United States in 1789 and in Baltimore presided over America’s first diocese— encompassing all of the thirteen original colonies. At Bishop Carroll’s urging, she moved her family to Baltimore in 1808 to open a Catholic girls’ school—marking the beginning of the Catholic system of parochial schools in the United States. Mother Seton founded the Sisters of Charity—the first Catholic religious order in America. Her order was successful in establishing orphanages and hospitals and developing the parochial school system. Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton died at age fifty- two in 1821 and was canonized by Pope Paul VI in 1975.
Father Antony Kohlmann
In response to the needs of a growing number of Catholic immigrants, Pope Pius VII established the Diocese of New York in 1808, which included all of New York State and a portion of northern New Jersey. Archbishop Carroll chose Alsatian-born Father Antony Kohlmann, along with several of his fellow Jesuits, to organize the new diocese. When Father Kohlmann arrived in the new diocese, he described the Catholic population as consisting “of Irish, some hundreds of French and as many Germans; in all according to the common estimation of 14,000 souls.” A parcel of land on Mott Street on the comer of Prince Street was chosen for the construction of New York’s first Cathedral. It was to rise on land that had been purchased in 1801 and 1803 by St. Peter’s Church for a burial ground. (The graves were removed to another site.) At the time, Canal Street was the northern boundary of the built-up portion of Manhattan. The Cathedral, erected in the midst of meadows, hills, and woodlands, was referred to as the “new church out of town.” (It was still a rural area in 1820 when a fox was caught in the churchyard!) Funds for construction came from large numbers of poor Irish immigrants—at considerable personal sacrifice—and from several wealthy Catholic laymen, including Andrew Morris (an Irish immigrant) —the first Catholic ever to be elected to public office in New York State to serve on the Common Council—and Cornelius Heeney (another immigrant from Ireland), a business partner of John Jacob Astor. On June 8, 1809, Father Kohlmann officiated before an assembled crowd of 3,000 at the laying of the cornerstone for St. Patrick’s Cathedral—the second Roman Catholic Cathedral in America (Baltimore’s Cathedral was the first) and the second Catholic church in New York (after St. Peter’s).
The new Cathedral was the first house of worship in the United States to be dedicated to Ireland’s patron saint, Saint Patrick, who organized the Irish Church in the fifth century. Known as the Apostle of Ireland, Patrick was consecrated as Bishop circa 432. He traveled tirelessly throughout Ireland, preaching, writing, and teaching, converting chiefs and bards, gathering followers, establishing churches and schools, building monasteries, and performing miracles. Since specific rules for canonization were not set down until the tenth century, local veneration of St. Patrick evolved into his sainthood.
The new Cathedral was designed by Joseph Mangin, a French-born architect and engineer, who arrived in New York in 1745 and soon established a reputation as a skilled architect and builder. In 1802, Mangin, along with native- born architect John McComb Jr., won the competition for the design of New York’s present City Hall (completed in 1812) with their plans for an exquisite French Renaissance exterior and a splendid Federal-style interior.
Mangin designed a grand and magnificent structure for St. Patrick’s Cathedral—proclaiming the strength and presence of the Catholic community as a force within the city. At the time of construction, it was the largest church building in the city—over 120 feet long and 80 feet wide and rising to a height of 75 feet with an 85-foot inner vault. The Cathedral—with its massive rough-cut stone facade punctuated by niches for statuary, pointed-arch doorways, and a large tracery-ornamented gable window—was one of the first Gothic Revival churches in America. The interior space was marked by tall, clustered iron columns that divided the body of the church into three naves surmounted by Gothic arches. Painted wall surfaces and natural light streaming through tall windows added to the spiritual quality of the interior. The Cathedral formally opened on Ascension Day, May 4, 1815, with a crowd of 4,000 worshippers and dignitaries, including Mayor DeWitt Clinton, and a greater number overflowing into the streets.
The first Bishop appointed to the diocese was Irish-born Richard Luke Concanen.The Napoleonic Wars prevented him from reaching New York and he died in Italy in 1810. The work of governing as administrator of the diocese continued to be carried out by Father Kohlmann, who devoted himself to fund raising and overseeing construction of the Cathedral. He maintained those responsibilities until the arrival in November 1815 of the second Bishop, sixty-five-year-old John Connolly, an Irish Dominican theologian who was held in high repute by both Pius VI and Pius VII. Bishop Connolly directed the construction of several new churches in the diocese and founded an orphanage in a wood-frame building at 32 Prince Street, across from the Cathedral, that was staffed in 1817 by three Sisters of Charity sent to New York by Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton. Pierre Toussaint, a leading financial supporter, generously contributed funds to the orphanage for close to forty years.
The Sisters established St. Patrick’s School in 1822. The original orphanage and school building was replaced in 1826 by the present red-brick convent and school designed in the Federal style and distinguished by an exquisite doorway of the period. For more than 180 years, the Sisters of Charity continued their tradition of service— first in the orphanage and then in St. Patrick’s School. The school had educated generations of Irish, Italian, French, Hispanic, Chinese, and German children. St. Patrick’s School boasted a distinguished roster of graduates—leaders in business, film, theater, arts, teaching, and the full spectrum of vocations and professions. The school (which had been New York’s oldest surviving parochial school) was forced to close in 2010 due to insufficient enrollment. In 1823, Bishop Connolly invited Cuban-born Fr. Felix Varela to New York to start a pastoral ministry among poor Irish immigrants, who made up the majority of the 35,000 Catholics living in the city. Father Varela—a social activist and advocate of Cuban independence—served as pastor in several diocese churches and is best remembered for his staunch support for the Irish in the face of growing anti-Catholic sentiment.
Bishop Connolly’s entire episcopacy was plagued by a severe shortage of priests. He brought Fr. Michael O’Gorman (who he ordained in Ireland before leaving for New York) with him from Ireland, and in 1820, he ordained Fr. Richard Bulger (another Irishman) to the priesthood. Father Bulger thus was the first priest to be ordained in New York City. Fathers Bulger and O’Gorman regularly traveled to New Jersey, to upstate New York, and to Brooklyn on Long Island to celebrate Masses for the Catholics there, since there were no resident priests in those locations at that time. Both Father Bulger and Father O’Gorman became ill in November of 1824 as a result of tending to the sick and dying of the diocese, and they both passed away within a week of each other at their residence on Broadway. They had been living in the same residence as Bishop Connolly, and when they died, the Bishop, who officiated at both of their burials, caught a bad cold and he died a few months later in February of 1825. Fathers O’Gorman and Bulger (and other early priests of the diocese) were buried in the courtyard in front of the church. A commemorative bronze plaque was placed upon the gravesite in 2010.
At the time of Bishop Connolly’s death, the diocese was composed mainly of working class Irish parishioners. The appointment of his successor, Fr. John Dubois—a French educator and missionary—was viewed with disappointment by the Irish community. Forced out of France in 1791 by the French Revolution, Father Dubois arrived in America with letters of introduction from the Marquis de Lafayette to James Monroe and Patrick Henry. Father Dubois settled in Virginia, where he built a church and opened a school in Emmitsburg, Maryland, that became Mount St.Mary’s College. In 1826, when he was consecrated the third Bishop of New York, there were twelve churches in the diocese for a Catholic population of about 150,000, served by only eighteen priests. By 1837, the numbers had grown to thirty-eight churches and forty priests. Plagued by ill health, Bishop Dubois requested a coadjutor. In 1838, the Rev. John Joseph Hughes was elevated to the episcopy as Bishop of Basileopolis at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and was then appointed coadjutor bishop to Dubois. In the following year, he was made administrator-Apostolic of New York. Bishop Dubois died in 1842 at the age of seventy-eight and is buried in front of the Cathedral, as he had personally requested.
St. John Neumann
Six years before his death, Bishop Dubois had welcomed a twenty- five-year-old theological student named John Neumann to the diocese. Neumann—who was canonized by Pope Paul IV in 1977 as America’s first male saint—was born in Bohemia (now the Czech Republic) and attended seminary in Prague. Since his ordination had been delayed by the government, Neumann came to New York as a missionary. The young man was ordained to priesthood at St. Patrick’s on June 28, 1836, and sent to upstate New York to work among German-speaking Catholics. Renowned for his outstanding mission and pastoral work and for his holiness and charity, Neumann was appointed the fourth Bishop of Philadelphia in 1852, where he died in 1860.
The multitudes of Irish Catholics who arrived in New York in the 19th century were mainly uneducated peasants leaving behind an impoverished existence in their native homeland due to harsh British colonial rule. And, after 1845, they were also fleeing from the Great Hunger—the potato famines that killed more than one million Irish and drove some two million more to America. The new immigrants lived in squalor, crowded into rotting structures and wretched tenements, eking out a miserable living, and suffering from disease and extreme poverty. These Famine Irish turned in large numbers to the church for solace.
The fourth Bishop of St. Patrick’s, who succeeded Bishop Dubois in 1842, was himself the son of poor Irish farmers and weavers. In 1817, at age twenty, John Joseph Hughes (born in Annaloughan, County Tyrone)emigrated to the United States and briefly settled in Pennsylvania before entering Mount St. Mary’s College, where he was ordained to the priesthood in 1826. Father Hughes spent the next twelve years in Philadelphia serving as pastor of several churches and was widely admired for his skillful management, strong leadership qualities, and outspoken defense of the church. Arriving in New York in 1838, Father Hughes served first as coadjutor and later administrator-Apostolic of New York. He was appointed a bishop in 1842—the first prelate to be consecrated at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Bishop Hughes faced two daunting challenges—presiding over a diocese that was experiencing unprecedented growth and protecting Catholics and their churches from the growing hostility of native-born Protestants.
Beginning in the 1830s, the city had experienced several outbreaks of violence led by nativists against Catholics. In 1831, the tiny, wood-frame structure of St. Mary’s Church (the third Catholic church in New York, organized in 1826) on Sheriff Street was burnt to the ground by arsonists. (A substantial stone church, still standing, was built to replace it in 1833 on Grand Street.) The burning of St. Mary’s Church compelled the Trustees of the Cathedral to approve the construction of the brick wall— which surrounds the church—in 1834. Frequent brawls and street riots between Protestants and Catholics led to the founding in 1836 of the Ancient Order of Hibernians (Latin for “Irish”) as a mutual benefit society and self- defense group. In the following years, nativist mobs had advanced on St. Patrick’s several times but were turned back after receiving reports that armed Irish defenders— posted by Bishop Hughes—were stationed along Prince Street and behind those brick walls which had been specifically constructed to protect the Cathedral.
In 1844, James Harper (of the famed Harper publishing family) was elected Mayor of New York as the candidate of the anti-immigrant American Republican Party. At the same time, Protestants and Irish Catholics in Philadelphia clashed in rioting that claimed the lives of some thirty Irishmen and resulted in the burning of Catholic churches and convents. Bishop Hughes vigorously defended the rights of Irish Catholics against this rising movement of bigotry and bloodshed. He organized thousands of Irish men to defend the Cathedral. As a massive anti-Catholic torchlight parade gathered in City Hall Park, ready to march up the Bowery to the Cathedral, he stationed sharpshooters on the protective walls surrounding the building. Bishop Hughes sent a letter to Mayor Harper warning that if any harm came to a single Catholic person or Catholic church, the city would be turned into “a second Moscow” (referring to the burning of Moscow during Napoleon’s invasion in 1812). The Bishop’s powerful message and forceful actions are credited with averting the anticipated violent anti-Catholic outbreak in New York.
In 1851, young men from the neighborhood around the Cathedral organized a militia regiment, known locally as the Second Regiment of Irish Volunteers. It was officially accepted as part of the New York State Militia and designated as the Sixty-Ninth Regiment. Commonly called the “Fighting Irish,” its green insignia was composed of a decorative shield flanked by two Irish wolfhounds standing on a ribbon inscribed with the Regimental motto, “Gentle When Stroked, Fierce When Provoked.” The Sixty-Ninth Regiment served in every campaign from Bull Run to Appomattox during the Civil War and fought in the Spanish-American War and the Mexican Border Campaign. Legendary hero Colonel William “Wild Bill” Donovan, chaplain Father Francis P. Duffy, and poet Joyce Kilmer were with the Regiment in bitter fighting in France during World War I. The “Fighting Sixty- Ninth” has been a fixture in the United States Army ever since and last saw action in Iraq and Afghanistan. Since 1907, the Regiment has been a unit of the New York Army National Guard.
Bishop Hughes was consecrated as Archbishop of New York in 1850 and continued a vigorous mission of building churches, schools, and hospitals. In 1842, when appointed bishop, he presided over a diocese of fifty churches, forty priests, and 200,000 Catholics. At his death in 1864, the numbers had increased to eighty-five churches, 150 priests, and a population of over 400,000 Catholics.
In a far-seeing move that many ridiculed at the time as “Hughes’ Folly,” the Archbishop proposed the construction of a new Cathedral in an undeveloped area far uptown on Fifth Avenue between 50th and 51st streets. Andrew Morris and Cornelius Heeney had purchased the rural property in 1810 on behalf of Father Kohlmann for the sum of $11,000 for the use of the Jesuit boys’ school that he had started downtown. In 1812, he established a school for girls near the boys’ school, run by the Ursuline nuns. The schools were no longer in existence when Archbishop Hughes laid the cornerstone for the new Cathedral on August 15, 1858.
During the Civil War, Archbishop Hughes served as the envoy of President Lincoln on a successful overseas mission to dissuade European countries from supporting the Confederacy. In gratitude, Lincoln petitioned Pope Pius IX to name Archbishop Hughes as America’s first Cardinal. But the death of this indomitable leader in January 1864 came before that honor could come to pass. His memory was honored by tributes from President Lincoln and other statesmen and his body viewed by over 200,000 common people who solemnly came to worship in the Cathedral. He was entombed in the crypts below the Cathedral and remained there until the “New” Cathedral was completed uptown—his remains were then removed to a crypt there in 1883. The Cathedral uptown holds the remains of all of the archbishops and cardinals that have served the Archdiocese since the death of Archbishop Hughes.
Archbishop Hughes’ successor in 1864 as the second Archbishop of the diocese was Bishop John McCloskey. He was born in Brooklyn in 1810 to Irish immigrant parents (his parents are both interred in the cemetery surrounding the Old Cathedral) and, at age eleven, entered Mount St. Mary’s College in Emmitsburg, distinguishing himself as an outstanding student. After graduation, the fifteen-year-old returned to New York with the intention of pursuing a career in law. But after a near-fatal accident in 1827, the young man decided instead to study for the priesthood. Young McCloskey was under the guardianship of Cornelius Heeney (who dedicated his fortune to the care of poor children at the end of his life), and the young man was taught Latin by Thomas S. Brady (buried in the crypts below the Cathedral). He was taught proper English elocution by Charlotte Melmoth, the first Shakespearean actress to come to America, who opened a school in Brooklyn when her acting career ended. (She was buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard cemetery surrounding the Cathedral.) McCloskey returned to Emmitsburg as a seminarian and later taught Latin at the college. In 1830, he was ordained to the priesthood at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral and remained until 1834 before taking a leave to study in Rome. Upon his return, Father McCloskey was instrumental in starting a seminary in Nyack under Bishop Dubois. (The seminary was destroyed by fire just prior to its opening in the 1830s. Arson was suspected, but the case was never investigated fully.) Father McCloskey became the first president of St. John’s College (later renamed Fordham University), founded by Archbishop Hughes in 1841.
Reverend McCloskey served as coadjutor bishop of New York from 1844–1847 and first Bishop of Albany from 1847 to 1864 before his appointment as Bishop to the New York diocese. Later raised to archbishop, he was highly respected as a pioneer in Catholic education and a clergyman of great spiritual strength and humility. During the tenure of Archbishop McCloskey, a disaster of tragic proportions struck on the night of October 6, 1866, when a catastrophic fire destroyed all but the outer walls of the Old Cathedral.
The five-alarm fire began in the packing room (filled with straw and wood shavings) of a porcelain dealer at 44 Crosby Street and quickly spread to nearby buildings. Showers of sparks fell on the lath and plaster roof of St. Patrick’s, which was soon a blazing inferno. As huge fragments of the burning roof crashed down into the sanctuary, filling the building with flames and smoke, a crowd of parishioners, led by Fathers McGeehan and Mullen, rushed inside to remove precious religious articles. They were successful in rescuing the Blessed Sacrament, vestments, several vessels, a number of oil paintings, and silver candlesticks just moments before the entire structure was engulfed by fire.
Archbishop McCloskey resolved to rebuild the Cathedral and commissioned architect Henry Engelbert (known for his designs of the College of Mount Saint Vincent in Riverdale) to reconstruct St. Patrick’s. Engelbert designed a severely plain facade of smooth brown stucco, facing Mott Street, lacking the detail and grace of the original exterior. The splendid interior, however, was rebuilt with a ceiling of ribbed vaults and arches carried on clustered piers. An altar screen of carved figures, representing the Apostles, is surmounted by a pointed arch stained-glass window above a painting of the figure of Christ. Completed in less than two years, the Cathedral was rededicated by Archbishop McCloskey on the Feast of St. Patrick—March 17, 1868.
The foremost ecclesiastical event in the history of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral took place in the restored structure on April 27, 1875, with the investiture of Archbishop McCloskey as the first American to be named Cardinal. Several Papal emissaries, seven archbishops, twenty bishops, hundreds of priests, and thousands of laymen attended the ceremony of solemnity and celebration. After its construction was completed, His Eminence John Cardinal McCloskey moved his seat uptown to the magnificent new St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, which was formally dedicated on May 25, 1879. The historic St. Patrick’s downtown then became a simple parish church.
Since that time, the church has remained the heart of an active parish with an ever-changing population. (Parish boundaries run from Wooster Street to the Bowery, between Hester Street and East Fourth Street.) Beginning in the 1880s, Italian immigrants poured into the area centered on Mulberry Street that came to be known as Little Italy. (Earlier in the 1800s, Lorenzo Da Ponte, who had written librettos for several of Mozart’s operas, lived on Spring Street, and his opulent Funeral Mass took place in the Cathedral in August of 1838.) Large numbers of Hispanic and Chinese newcomers to America make up a significant portion of the present population. Recent years have seen the transformation of previously commercial areas, such as SoHo and NoHo, into residential communities largely populated by people in the arts and media. Currently, many young people are making the entire area their home. Their youthful energy has breathed much life into St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral parish.
As the 200th anniversary of the laying of the cornerstone of the Old Cathedral approached, Msgr. Donald Sakano, who had been appointed pastor of the venerable church in 2007, began to plan for what would be a six-year Bicentennial Celebration (since it took six years for the church o be completed in the early 1800s). Monsignor Sakano marshaled the assistance of historians familiar with church and city history as well as people in the parish community for the purpose of putting together a celebration that would highlight the great history of the church.
A slogan for the Bicentennial Celebration (which we are currently in the midst of) was selected: “Embracing the future as we celebrate our past.”
The Bicentennial Celebration of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral began with a Mass celebrated by His Excellency, Timothy M. Dolan, Archbishop of New York, held in the Old Cathedral on June 7, 2009, commemorating the 200th anniversary of the laying of the church’s cornerstone. Various church and civic leaders attended Mass and the related events. A parade was held in which, among other events, (a) the Ancient Order of Hibernians, or “AOH,” marched to the church and stood shoulder-to-shoulder around its perimeter wall in commemoration of the AOH’s defense of the church against physical attack by the nativist, anti-Catholic “Know-Nothings” at the request of then-Bishop (later Archbishop) “Dagger John” Hughes and (b) the April 1861 parade of the famed “Fighting 69th” regiment—a unit of the Irish Brigade—as it marched off to the Civil War was re-enacted.
At that same June 7, 2009, Mass celebrating the laying of the cornerstone of the church, Archbishop Dolan announced from the pulpit that an application would be made to the Holy See requesting that St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral be awarded basilica status. This honor is bestowed upon churches that have historical or other kinds of significance for the Catholic Church and which affords certain ceremonial privileges for a church so honored.
It did not take a long time for the application to be honored; His Excellency Archbishop Timothy M. Dolan announced from the altar of the “new” Cathedral at the annual St. Patrick’s Day Mass on March 17, 2010, that His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI had awarded Basilica status to the Old Cathedral, effective (fittingly) on March 17, 2010.
All of the people who have had connections over the years with the Old Cathedral are rightfully proud to learn that this wonderful old church has been so honored by His Holiness Pope Benedict. Old St. Patrick’s is the only church within The Archdiocese of New York to have ever attained Basilica status—a fitting honor for such a historically and ecclesiastically significant edifice within the great City of New York.
Deeply rooted in the community, The Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral continues its tradition of providing for the spiritual needs of Catholics of all ages. In 2013, the Basilica once again became a place where Roman Catholics could be buried on the island of Manhattan. A columbarium was erected early in the year for the purpose of accepting the cremated remains of parishioners and friends of the Basilica, and more columbaria are in the building stages as of this writing. Once again, Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral is an honored burial place for the faithful departed of New York City—the exact purpose that the pioneer Catholic community of New York City had originally intended for the land when it was purchased in 1801.
VINTAGE BUBBLE CUT BLONDE (1962) WEARING CAREER GIRL (1963-1964) #Barbie #BarbieDoll #BarbieStyle #BarbieCollector #doll #dollcollector #dollphotography #toy #toycollector #toyphotography #careergirl #barbievintage #fashiondoll #fashionphoto #vintage #vintagefashiondoll #orginalvintage #vintagestyle
Apollo Career Center in Lima, Ohio. These Ford Crown Victoria's are training cars and have been worn from years of sitting outside.
Apollo Career Center in Lima, Ohio. These Ford Crown Victoria's are training cars and have been worn from years of sitting outside.
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
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Checking the Barbie aisle I found a lone palentologist Barbie. Beyond being beautiful she is a triumph in the Barbie career verse for finding a way to best include pink while still being a realistic depiction of the chosen career. Great job, Babs! Now, if only you could shrink the heads to a normal size again.
It isn't the best shot I've ever taken, but I had to stop on this ledge and look down at the forest below. It's not often we get a view like this - in and above the canopy.
Divers 2022 - The world of Banksy
Banksy exhibition with life-size reconstructions by the Bristol-based artist. A geographical journey through the cities around the world where Banksy has painted his most emblematic murals. An invitation to discover the most mysterious street artist of the moment from a new angle. Easy access and recommended for everyone!
The World of Banksy - Brussels is an exhibition that brings together the largest number of life-size murals by the Bristol-based street artist. These reconstructed works and other pieces of Banksy's rich career have been installed in the mythical premises of a former fabric house at 28 rue de Laeken (1000 BRUSSELS).
The exhibition aims to present Banksy and his original approach through the murals he has painted in the streets of the world. Visitors will discover the master of street art in a complete and immersive experience that breathes new life into Banksy's - almost entirely lost - creations.
The exhibition is open every day of the week from 10am to 7pm (last entry at 6.15pm).
( Divers albums de photos prisent en 2022 sans sujet precis.
Various albums of pictures taken in 2022 without subject. )
French postcard by Editions Humour à la Carte, Paris, no. ST-19.
Siouxsie Sioux (1957) is not related to the Sioux Native American tribe, but an influential English singer, songwriter, musician and producer. She is best known as the lead singer of the New Wave band Siouxsie and the Banshees (1976–1996) and the drum and voice duo The Creatures (1981–2005).
Siouxsie was born Susan Janet Ballion in Southwark, England, in 1957. At 17, she left school. She began frequenting the local gay discos where most of her sister's friends used to go. She introduced her own friends to that scene. In November 1975, a new young group called Sex Pistols performed at the local art college in Chislehurst. Siouxsie did not attend, but one of her friends told her how their singer threatened the string of students present at that gig. He added that they sounded like The Stooges. In February 1976, Siouxsie and her friend Steven Severin went to see Sex Pistols play in the capital. After chatting with members of the band, Siouxsie and Severin decided to follow them regularly. Siouxsie became well known in the London club scene for her glam, fetish and bondage attire, which later became part of punk fashion. She would also later epitomise gothic style with her signature cat-eye makeup, deep red lipstick, spiky dyed-black hair, and black clothing.
In 1977, Siouxsie began touring in England as Siouxsie and the Banshees. One year later, their first single, Hong Kong Garden, reached the top 10 in the UK. Siouxsie and the Banshees would release 11 studio albums and several UK Top 20 singles including Happy House, Peek-a-Boo plus the Billboard Top 25 hit Kiss Them for Me. With The Creatures, Siouxsie recorded four studio albums and the hit single Right Now. She has also sung with artists such as Morrissey and John Cale. In the mid-2000s, she began a solo career and released Mantaray in 2007. Love Crime, her first song in eight years, was featured in the finale of the TV series Hannibal, broadcast in August 2015. Series creator Bryan Fuller, who had contacted her in November 2014, described the song (composed by Siouxsie with Brian Reitzell) as "epic". The song was not made available for download. It will be released later on the soundtrack for season 3 of the series.
Source: Wikipedia.
East-German postcard by VEB Progress Film-Vertrieb, Berlin, no. 1494, 1961.
On 17 July 2021, Jacqueline Sassard (1940) died of natural causes in Lugano, Switzerland. In the late 1950s and 1960, the charming and beautiful French actress had a short but successful career in European cinema. Sassard was 81.
Jacqueline Sassard was born in Nice, France in 1940. She started her career as a teenager in the French thriller Je plaide non coupable/Guilty? (Edmond Gréville, 1956). The following year, she played the title role of the Italian comedy Guendalina (Alberto Lattuada, 1957), with Sylva Koscina and Raf Vallone as her parents. The film was produced by Dino De Laurentiis and Carlo Ponti, and the latter offered her another lead role in the comedy Nata di marzo/Born in March (Antonio Pietrangeli, 1958) opposite Gabriele Ferzetti. For her role, she won the Zuleta Prize at the San Sebastián International Film Festival 1958. In Italy, she also appeared as a young woman with family and economical troubles in Il magistrato/The Magistrate (Luigi Zampa, 1959), a co-production with Spain and France. The Spaniard José Suárez stars in the film, and other roles were played by François Périer and a 21-year-old Claudia Cardinale. In the award-winning drama Estate violenta/Violent Summer (Valerio Zurlini, 1959), her character is left by Jean Louis Trintignant for Eleonora Rossi Drago. She also played one of the three sisters who take revenge on playboy Alain Delon in the comedy Faibles femmes/Three Murderesses (Michel Boisrond, 1959), co-starring Mylène Démongeot and Pascale Petit.
In the early 1960s, Jacqueline Sassard mainly worked in Italy in less prestigious films than before. It was the period of the Peplum spectacles and she was seen as Antiope in Arrivano i titani/The Titans (Duccio Tessari, 1962) with Pedro Armendáriz and Giuliano Gemma. Hal Erickson at AllMovie: “My Son the Hero started out in 1961 as a straightforward Italian sword and sandal affair titled Arrivano i Titani, all about the quest for a magic helmet in ancient Thebes. Well cast (Pedro Armendariz is the star) and extremely well photographed, the original film was still not sufficiently different from all the other Italian strongman films glutting the American market in 1963. Thus the American distributors hit upon the notion of transforming the film into a satire, by redubbing all the actors and hoking up the sound effects. What resulted was a heady mixture of Yiddish accents, Borscht-belt one-liners, and rippling pecs.” Sassard also appeared in a small part opposite Steve Reeves in the adventure film Sandokan, la tigre di Mompracem/Sandokan the Great (Umberto Lenzi, 1963). In between, Sassard played opposite Freddy Quinn in the German Schlagerfilm Freddy und das Lied der Südsee/Freddy and the Song of the South Seas (Werner Jacobs, 1962). She had a supporting part in the Italian-French sex comedy Le voci bianche/Counter Tenors (Pasquale Festa Campanile, Massimo Franciosa, 1964) with Sandra Milo and Anouk Aimée.
One of Jacqueline Sassard’s best films is the Italian drama Le stagioni del nostro amore/Seasons of Our Love (Florestano Vancini, 1966) with Enrico Maria Salerno and Anouk Aimée. Sassard then played an Austrian princess in the prestigious British film Accident (Joseph Losey, 1967), based on a script by Harold Pinter and starring Dirk Bogarde. At the 1967 Cannes Film Festival, the film won the Grand Prix Spécial du Jury. Gavin Jones at IMDb: “One of the best films ever made, this movie oozes atmosphere. The cinematography is impeccable, the script disturbingly brilliant.” Her last credited screen appearance was opposite Stéphane Audran and Jean-Louis Trintignant in the sensual and sexy thriller Les Biches/The Does/Girlfriends (1968), directed by Claude Chabrol. It was one of the first films subtly dealing with bisexuality. James Travers at French Films: “All the time, we, the audience, are seduced by the beautiful cinematography, the captivating, sensual performances, most notably from the Sphinx-like Stéphane Audran, and Chabrol's masterful direction. This is a deliciously seductive work, but one which is also profoundly disturbing.” Then Jacqueline Sassard retired and disappeared from public view. In Brazil, she had met Gianni Lancia, the Italian former automobile engineer, industrialist, and racing enthusiast. They married and had one son, Lorenzo. At the age of 81, Jacqueline Sassard died of natural causes in Lugano, Switzerland, in 2021.
Sources: Hal Erickson (AllMovie), James Travers (French Films), Gavin Jones (IMDb), Wikipedia, and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
Yesterday was odd. I was at work, calling customers to fix account problems. At about 10am, I called some guy down in SoCal. We had a nice conversation about his account. Then he goes,
"Where are you calling from?"
I told him.
"You have an amazing voice. You sound gorgeous."
"Um...thank you!"
"Are you single?"
Our phone calls are monitored, so I didn't feel it was appropriate to say "Gay," so I just sort of blanched.
"It's too bad you're not in California. Want to be my phone buddy?"
"Um..... No. Thanks?"
It was really odd, and completely made my day feel strange and surreal.
I would throw some life lesson in here about how you shouldn't upset the person who handles your money. But he didn't really upset me, it was actually a nice disruption from the mundane. I guess I'm flattered.
I shot a photo of myself at work with my headset on, and was going to post about "here's what the person at the other end of the phone line looks like."
But then I was out for a walk, and I decided I didn't want to waste the last breath of sunlight. I literally got this one shot, and then the sun died away, and there is no beautiful lens flare one shot later. I kind of enjoy how the light takes away my identity in the shot.
My night ended with some really exciting, happy-making news, so I fully shot a third, completely different portrait of me smiling big..... But I'm gonna keep all that close to my chest, where it's precious and real. :).
It's 1865 and the telegraph is heading west. George Crane, wanting to keep law and order out of his territory, is out to stop the construction. The engineer on the job is Ken Mason and he is the grandson of Zorro. As Crane sends his men or Indians to stop the work, Mason repeatedly puts on the Zorro costume and rides to the rescue in this 12-chapter serial.
Clayton Moore
September 14th, 1914 — December 28th, 1999
Clayton Moore, though best remembered today as television’s Lone Ranger, had a lengthy and distinguished career in serials. Moore was a physically ideal serial lead, but his greatest strengths were his dramatic, quietly intense speaking voice and expressive face. These gifts helped Moore to convey a sincerity that could make the most unbelievable dialogue or situations seem real. The bulk of Moore’s cliffhanger work was done after World War 2, when serials’ shrinking budgets cut back on original action scenes and made the presence of skilled leading players more important than in the serial’s golden age. Moore, with his sincerity and acting skill, was just the type of actor the post-war serials needed.
Clayton Moore was born Jack Carlton Moore in Chicago. He began to train for a career as a circus acrobat at the age of eight, and joined a trapeze act called the Flying Behrs after finishing high school; as a member of the Behrs, Moore would perform for two circuses and at the 1934 World’s Fair. An injury to his left leg around 1935 forced him out of the aerialist business, and after working briefly as a male model in New York he moved to Hollywood in 1937, beginning his film career as a stuntman. He played numerous bit roles in addition to his stunt work for the next three years, among them a miniscule part in his first serial, Zorro’s Fighting Legion (Republic, 1939), as one of the members of the titular group. Edward Small, an independent producer allied with United Artists, cast Moore in his first credited parts in a pair of 1940 films, Kit Carson and The Son of Monte Cristo. The former featured Moore as a heroic young pioneer, the latter as an army officer aiding masked avenger Louis Hayward. Following these two films, Moore began to get credited speaking parts in other pictures. In 1941 he played the romantic lead in Tuxedo Junction, one of Republic Pictures’ “Weaver Brothers and Elviry” comedies, and the next year the studio signed him for his first starring serial, Perils of Nyoka (Republic, 1942).
Perils of Nyoka (Republic, 1942) was a vehicle for Republic’s new “Serial Queen,” Kay Aldridge, who played Nyoka Gordon, a girl seeking her missing scientist father in the deserts of North Africa. Moore was the heroic Dr. Larry Grayson, a member of an expedition searching for the “Tablets of Hippocrates,” an ancient list of medical cures sought by Nyoka’s father before he disappeared. Nyoka joined forces with Grayson and his expedition to locate Professor Gordon and the tablets–and to battle Arab ruler Vultura (Lorna Gray) and her band of desert cutthroats, who were after the Tablets and the treasure hidden with them. Perils of Nyoka was a highly exciting serial, with consistently imaginative and varied action sequences, and colorful characters and locales. Although Moore took second billing to Aldridge, his character received as much screen time as hers and his performance was a major part of the serial’s success. Moore, with his intense sincerity, made his nearly superhuman physician character believable; the audience never felt like questioning Dr. Grayson’s ability to perform emergency brain surgery on Nyoka’s amnesiac father in a desert cave, or his amazing powers of riding, wall-scaling, marksmanship, and sword-fighting, far beyond those of the average medical school graduate.
Moore went into the army in 1942, almost immediately after the release of Perils of Nyoka. He served throughout World War Two, and didn’t resume his film career until 1946, when he returned to Republic Pictures to appear in The Crimson Ghost. The impact of his starring turn in Perils of Nyoka was diminished by his long hiatus, and he found himself playing a supporting role in this new serial. He was cast as Ashe, the chief henchman of the mysterious Crimson Ghost, and aided that villain in his attempts to steal a counter-atomic weapon called a “Cyclotrode.” Ashe was ultimately brought to justice, along with his nefarious master, by stars Charles Quigley and Linda Stirling. The Crimson Ghost showed that Moore could play intensely mean villains as well as intensely courageous heroes. His sneering, bullying Ashe came off as thoroughly unpleasant, as he stalked through the serial doing his best to kill off hero and heroine.
Moore returned to heroic parts in his next cliffhanger, Jesse James Rides Again (Republic, 1947). The serial’s plot had Jesse, retired from outlawry, forced to go on the run because of new crimes committed in his name. Jesse and his pal Steve (John Compton) wound up in Tennessee, where, under the alias of “Mr. Howard,” Jesse came to the aid of a group of farmers victimized by an outlaw gang called the Black Raiders. The Raiders, secretly bossed by local businessman Jim Clark (Tristram Coffin), were after oil reserves beneath the local farmland, but Mr. Howard ultimately outgunned them. James’ own identity was exposed in the process, but he was allowed to escape arrest by a sympathetic marshal. Jesse James Rides Again was Republic’s best post-war Western serial, thanks in part to the unusual plot device of an ex-badman hero. Moore was able to give Jesse James a dangerous edge that most other serial leads couldn’t have pulled off; his cold, steely-eyed glare when gunning down villains seemed very much in keeping with dialogue references to Jesse’s outlaw past.
G-Men Never Forget (Republic, 1947), Moore’s next serial, cast him as Ted O’Hara, an FBI agent battling a racketeer boss named Vic Murkland (Roy Barcroft). O’Hara broke up various protection rackets organized by Murkland, but his efforts were hampered by Murkland’s impersonation of a kidnaped police commissioner (also played by Barcroft). G-Men Never Forget possessed a tough and realistic atmosphere not typical of gang-busting serials, and Moore delivered a grimly determined performance well-fitted to the serial’s mood. Moore’s acting, good supporting performances, skilled direction, and a well-written script made G-Men Never Forget a superior serial, one that could hold its own against earlier gang-busting chapterplays like the Dick Tracy outings.
Moore’s next serial was Adventures of Frank and Jesse James (Republic, 1948), in which he reprised his Jesse James role. Joined this time by Steve Darrell as Frank James, Moore tried to help a former gang member named John Powell (Stanley Andrews) develop a silver mine. Part of the mine’s proceeds were to be used to pay back victims of James Gang robberies, but the plan was derailed by a crooked mining engineer (John Crawford), who discovered the mine contained gold instead of silver and murdered Powell to keep this find secret. Crawford then used every trick in the book to keep Moore, Darrell, and Noel Neill (as Powell’s daughter) from developing the mine, but the James Boys unmasked his treachery by the end. Frank and Jesse James drew heavily on stock footage and plot elements from Republic’s earlier Adventures of Red Ryder, and was thus more predictable than its predecessor, but it was still an entertaining and well-made serial. Moore again made Jesse seem both sympathetic and (when fighting the bad guys) somewhat frightening.
By now, Moore was established as Republic’s premiere serial hero; however, his next cliffhanger would lead to his departure from the studio and change the course of his career. The last in a long line of Republic Zorro serials, Ghost of Zorro (1949) starred Moore as Ken Mason, the original Zorro’s grandson, who donned his ancestor’s mask to help a telegraph company establish a line in the wild West in the face of outlaw sabotage. Like Adventures of Frank and Jesse James, the serial was somewhat derivative of earlier outings (particularly Son of Zorro), but smoothly and professionally done. Moore delivered another strong performance, but for some odd reason Republic chose to have his voice dubbed by another actor in scenes where he was masked as Zorro. This strange production decision did not diminish Moore’s potential as a masked hero in the eyes of a group of television producers who were trying to find an actor to play the Lone Ranger on a soon-to-be-launched TV show; Moore’s turn in Ghost of Zorro landed him the part. Moore debuted as the Ranger in 1949, and played the part for two seasons on TV. During this period, he did make one apparent serial appearance in Flying Disc Man From Mars (Republic, 1950), but all his footage actually came from The Crimson Ghost.
In 1952, Moore was dropped from The Lone Ranger without any explanation from the producers, who apparently feared that Moore was becoming too identified as the Lone Ranger, and that he might become so sure of his position that he’d ask for a bigger salary. John Hart replaced Moore as the Ranger for the show’s third season, and Moore returned to freelance acting. He played numerous small roles in feature films, made multiple guest appearances (usually as a heavy) on TV shows like Range Rider and The Gene Autry Show, and also found time to make four more serials.
The first of these was Radar Men from the Moon (Republic, 1952), which featured Moore as a gangster named Graber, who was working with lunar invaders to bring the Earth under the dominion of Retik, Emperor of the Moon (Roy Barcroft). Scientist “Commando” Cody (George Wallace) opposed the planned conquest with the aid of his flying rocket suit and other handy gadgets. Moore met a fiery demise when his car plummeted off a cliff in the last chapter, and Retik came to a similarly sticky end shortly thereafter. Moore’s characterization in Radar Men from the Moon was reminiscent of his performance as “Ashe;” once again he performed deeds of villainy with swaggering relish.
Moore’s next serial, Columbia’s Son of Geronimo (1952), was his first non-Republic cliffhanger. He returned to playing a hero in this outing, an undercover cavalry officer named Jim Scott out to quell an Indian uprising led by Rodd Redwing as Porico, son of Geronimo. The uprising was being encouraged by outlaws John Crawford and Marshall Reed to serve their own ends, and Scott and Porico ultimately joined forces to defeat them. Son of Geronimo remains one of the few popular late Columbia serials, due to its strong and unusually violent action scenes and the forceful performances of Moore and his co-stars, particularly Reed and Redwing.
Moore’s last Republic serial was Jungle Drums of Africa (1952), in which he played Alan King, an American mining engineer developing a valuable uranium deposit in the African jungles. Moore was assisted by lady doctor Phyllis Coates and fellow engineer Johnny Sands and opposed by a group of Communist spies (Henry Rowland, John Cason) and their witch-doctor accomplice (Roy Glenn). While Drums drew extensively on stock shots of African animals to augment its jungle atmosphere, it relied to an unusually large extent on original footage for its action scenes and chapter endings, and the result was a modestly-budgeted but enjoyable serial that served as a good finish to Moore’s career at Republic.
Gunfighters of the Northwest (Columbia, 1953), Moore’s final serial, cast him as the second lead, a Mountie named Bram Nevin who backed up RCMP Sergeant Jock Mahoney. Moore, in his first and only “sidekick” role, played well off Mahoney; while the latter’s character was the focus of the serial’s action, Moore’s role was really more that of co-hero than of a traditional sidekick. The serial pitted the two leads against the “White Horse Rebels,” a gang of outlaws trying to overthrow the Canadian government. Though thinly-plotted, Gunfighters, with its nice location photography and good acting, was the last really interesting Columbia serial; it was also Moore’s last serial. In 1954, he returned to the Lone Ranger series, its producers having been forced to realize that Moore was firmly established as the Ranger and that audiences wouldn’t warm up to his substitute John Hart. The fourth and fifth seasons of the show featured Moore in his familiar place as the “daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains.”
After the Lone Ranger series ended in 1956, Moore reprised the role in two big-screen movies and then retired from acting. He remained in the public view, however, making personal appearances throughout the country in his Lone Ranger garb. Publicly and privately, he upheld the ideals that the Lone Ranger–and his serial heroes–had upheld on the screen: courage, charity, and a sense of justice. In 1979, he was barred by court order from making personal appearances as the Lone Ranger because the property’s owners worried that Moore’s close identification with the character would undercut a new Lone Ranger film. Moore nevertheless maintained his status as the “real” Lone Ranger in the eyes of fans, and, after the failure of the new Ranger feature, he was allowed to resume his mask in 1984. Moore died in Los Angeles in 1999, leaving behind several generations of fans that honored him not only for his TV persona, but for the kindess that characterized the off-screen man behind the mask.
Part of Clayton Moore’s success as the Lone Ranger was due to his respectful attitude towards the character. While some actors would have had a hard time taking a masked cowboy from a children’s radio show seriously, Moore’s performance was as heartfelt as if he had been playing a Shakespearian role; he gave the part all the benefit of his considerable acting talent. Moore played his cliffhanger roles, heroic and villainous, with the same respect and the same wholeheartedness. It’s no wonder that serial fans hold him in the same high regard that the Lone Ranger’s fans do.
British postcard by GoCard. Dennis Hopper in Der amerikanische Freund/The American Friend (Wim Wenders, 1977).
Dennis Hopper (1936-2010) was a multi-talented American actor, director, and visual artist, but also one of the true "enfants terribles" of Hollywood. In 1970, he won a Golden Palm for Easy Rider (1969) and Hopper was also Oscar-nominated for writing this groundbreaking anthem to freedom and rebellion. In 1987, he received a second nomination for his supporting role in Hoosiers (1986).
Dennis Lee Hopper was born in Dodge City, Kansas, in 1936. When he was 13, Hopper and his family moved to San Diego. Hopper was voted most likely to succeed at Helix High School, where he was active in the drama club, speech, and choir. It was there that he developed an interest in acting, studying at the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego. He attended the Actors Studio and made his first television appearance in the TV series Medic (1954). He debuted on the big screen in 1955 with a supporting role in the film that would make James Dean famous: Rebel Without a Cause (Nicholas Ray, 1955). Dean was both his friend and mentor. They also appeared together in Giant (George Stevens, 1956), with Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor. Dean's death in a car accident in September 1955 affected the young Hopper deeply. Jason Ankeny at AllMovie: "After Dean's tragic death, it was often remarked that Hopper attempted to fill his friend's shoes by borrowing much of his persona, absorbing the late icon's famously defiant attitude and becoming so temperamental that his once-bright career quickly began to wane." Hopper appeared in the Western Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (John Sturges, 1957), starring Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas. After a run-in with director Henry Hathaway on the set of From Hell to Texas (1958), Hopper was reportedly blackballed from major Hollywood feature film roles until 1965, during which time he was working on television. In 1961, Hopper played his first lead role in Night Tide, an atmospheric supernatural thriller involving a mermaid in an amusement park. He returned in The Sons of Katie Elder (Henry Hathaway, 1965), featuring John Wayne. Hopper also acted in another John Wayne film, True Grit (Henry Hathaway, 1969), and during its production, he became well acquainted with Wayne. He appeared in a number of psychedelic films, including The Trip (1967) and the Monkees feature Head (Bob Rafelson, 1968), but Hopper really became the symbol of the sex'n'drugs'n'rock'n'pop generation with Easy Rider (1969). He wrote the script together with co-star Peter Fonda and Terry Southern and it was also his directorial debut. Fonda, Hopper, and a young Jack Nicholson were the stars. They had less than half a million dollars in the budget and an idea about motorbikes, a drug deal, and an LSD trip. Besides showing drug use on film, it was one of the first films to portray the hippie lifestyle. Their long hair became a point of contention in various scenes during the film. Initially rejected by producer Roger Corman, the film became a countercultural touchstone. As the director, Hopper won wide acclaim for his improvisational methods and innovative editing. Easy Rider earned Hopper a Cannes Film Festival Award for "Best First Work" and he shared with Fonda and Southern a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. The film grossed forty million dollars worldwide and broke open the Hollywood bastion, benefiting a new generation of filmmakers from Martin Scorsese to Steven Spielberg.
Dennis Hopper's star faded considerably after the critical and commercial failure of his second film as director, The Last Movie (Dennis Hopper, 1971). Jason Ankeny calls it "an excessive, self-indulgent mess that, while acclaimed by jurors at the Venice Film Festival, was otherwise savaged by critics and snubbed by audiences." Hopper later admitted, he was seriously abusing various substances during the 1970s, both legal and illegal, which led to a downturn in the quality of his work. He acted in such interesting European films as Der amerikanische Freund/The American Friend (Wim Wenders, 1977) opposite Bruno Ganz. He returned to the Hollywood A-list thanks to his role as a pot-smoking, hyper-manic photojournalist in the Vietnam War epic and blockbuster Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979), alongside Marlon Brando and Martin Sheen. Hopper traveled to Canada to appear in a small film titled Out of the Blue. At the outset of the production, he was also asked to take over as director, and to the surprise of many, the picture appeared on schedule and to decent reviews and honours at the Cannes Film Festival. In 1983, Hopper entered a drug rehabilitation program, and that year he played critically acclaimed roles in Rumble Fish (Francis Ford Coppola, 1983) and the spy thriller The Osterman Weekend (Sam Peckinpah, 1983). He created a sensation as the aggressive, gas-huffing villain Frank Booth in the eerie and erotic Blue Velvet (David Lynch, 1986). For this role, he won critical acclaim and several awards. That same year he received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his role as an alcoholic assistant of basketball coach Gene Hackman in Hoosiers (David Anspaugh, 1986). Hopper's fourth directorial outing came about through the controversial gang film Colors (1988), starring Sean Penn and Robert Duvall. It was followed by an Emmy-nominated lead performance in Paris Trout (1991). In 1990, Dennis Hopper directed The Hot Spot, which was not a box-office hit. Hopper had more success portraying the villain of Speed (Jan de Bont, 1994), starring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. Hopper received a Razzie Award for his supporting role in Waterworld (Kevin Reynolds, 1997), starring Kevin Costner. In 2001, Hopper had a role in the television series 24. His life story counted five marriages, seven directions, and over 130 film and television appearances. He also collaborated on the Gorillaz song 'Fire Coming Out Of The Monkeys Head'. He recorded the lyrics for it. In addition to his film work, Hopper was also active as a visual artist; he worked as a photographer, painter, and sculptor. Among other things, he made the cover of the album River Deep - Mountain High by Ike & Tina Turner. In 2001, his work was exhibited in the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam. In 2009, Hopper's manager announced that Dennis Hopper had prostate cancer. He underwent several treatments. Future film plans were postponed. In January 2010, it was announced that Hopper was beyond treatment. On 26 March of the same year, Hopper was honoured with a star on the famous Hollywood Walk of Fame. Dennis Hopper died in 2010, at the age of 74, at his home in Venice, California. Jason Ankeny at AllMovie: "The odyssey of Dennis Hopper was one of Hollywood's longest, strangest trips. A onetime teen performer, he went through a series of career metamorphoses -- studio pariah, rebel filmmaker, drug casualty, and comeback kid -- before finally settling comfortably into the role of character actor par excellence, with a rogues' gallery of killers and freaks unmatched in psychotic intensity and demented glee. " In 1971, Hopper had filmed scenes for Orson Welles' The Other Side of the Wind appearing as himself. After decades of legal, financial, and technical delays, the film was finally released on Netflix in 2018
Sources: Jason Ankeny (AllMovie), Wikipedia (Dutch and English), and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
The After Dark Party brings together 300+ civic-minded leaders from New York's design, development, business and philanthropic communities with 200+ MAS Urbanists: early and mid-career professionals with a shared passion for improving New York City.
Learn more about the Urbanists:
My write up on photographing the new Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas here
On the weekend of November 20-21, 2010, I was invited to photograph the new Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas prior to their opening December 15, 2010 in Las Vegas NV.
This set of images represents my efforts that weekend to showcase this newest resort property opening up on the Las Vegas Strip. Thanks to David Scherer from The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas for showing me around, to Miiko Mentz at Katalyst Films for helping to arrange the shoot, and to my wife for modeling for me.
To learn more about The Cosmpolitan of Las Vegas, check out their website here or their Facebook page here.
In this new building a new room for exams is located - it's still not in use. To put the students at their ease, a quiet, red color has been chosen. To symbolise their careers a ladder has been placed in the corridor.
Birthday dinner with my husband (Joe Barrett), and with my friend and fellow flight attendant Cheryl, what a super terrific time!
{FRA trip 24-26SEP2012, Frankfurt, Germany layover; with Joe!}
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Ruth's Career as a Flight Attendant – Happy Highlights –
The time has come for me to say a certain good-bye. I have decided to accept a Voluntary Early Out Program (VEOP) of the world's largest airline – saving another flight attendant from being cut involuntarily due to the corona virus pandemic – since our Company doesn't need 80% of us now. Upon leaving September 27, 2021, once exited, I turn into a retiree with full retirement benefits. So I worked my last trip March 1-4, 2020, not knowing – the Lord knew – it'd be my last, and very good.
My first flight to Germany, when I was a child, took 2 days, on a Constellation propeller aircraft in 1960 transporting military families like ours, hugging coastlines and stopping every so often along the way to refuel. Four years later, ending my father's tour of duty, I flew back to America on a jet airliner.
In working flights from the early 90's into 2020 I encountered unexpected joys, exceptionally difficult people, and potentially deadly situations; however, on 1 flight a passenger came to the jetbridge boarding door I was working on his hands... because he had no legs; he had to walk into the restroom on his hands, then ate his meals with those same hands. I said to myself that I wouldn't complain about anything ever again.
Never did any flight I was working on cancel; however, during one month of 4 transatlantic Frankfurt trips, the flight from the day before on 3 of my 4 return flights cancelled: we carried their relaxed, rested return (deadheading) crew, who had an extra full day in Germany to enjoy doing whatever they wanted to do, back over the ocean, working the totally filled flights while they sat, ate, and slept in passenger seats, 100% full airplane each time! I wished I also could have had an extra day, too, at least once!
In a quarter century I flew Germany about 1,000 times as Speaker (making the airplane announcements in German), usually once, sometimes twice, occasionally 3 times in a week, even worked – assigned as a reserve – 10 transatlantic flights in 15 days, 5 trips back-to-back non-stop; plus worked other international destinations, also 5 years domestic, mostly 3-day but a few 1-, 2-, or 4-day, and 1 prized 5-day trip. I will have accumulated 29½ yrs. seniority from my 20May1992 hire, acquiring lifetime memories, enjoying amazing friendships. This scenic journey down memory lane highlights my working trips of which I have pictures: 1 in 1994; 2 in 2001; 2 in 2010; after buying a smart phone, 252 the next day 11AUG2012 through 04MAR2020. Enjoy this mere 1% of a total of ~70,000 photos and occasional notes on working trips as a crewmember!
Galeria Kaufhof Frankfurt An der Hauptwache