Hallowed Ground

We were children once, cast out into Dark Night and Vast Wilderness. Now it is our Home, and we the Masters here.

Thugs Next Door: The 5th District Chronicals

I have written here, on more than few occasions, about the difficulties with my neighbors, the 5th District Police Headquarters. I have complained about the off duty cops driving the wrong way up a one way street, and about the noise factor as they party in the parking lot, whenever they change shifts or whatever it is that makes them come outside and blast the stereos. I have talked to them personally and pleaded for understanding and neighborly behavior, all to no avail. Today, about 6pm, two officers hung out by their cruiser, making noises that resembled video game gun shots, through their patrol car’s PA system. It was so loud it rattled my windows. That lovely experience of a nice Fall day, and open windows, was crushed as they began to blast Bad Boys, the theme from the TV show COPS, at ear splitting volume. I was out side on my balcony, and during a brief break in the music, I shouted for their attention. “Is that really necessary?” I yelled. The officer outside the car looked directly at me, and pulled out his hand gun. He removed the clip, and set it on the hood of the cruiser. Then he checked the barrel for a round ( I guess there was none) and, still staring at me, began to pull back the slide and pull the trigger, releasing it, over and over, to the music. I find this to be disturbing and threatening behavior. I wrote the following eamil to 5th Dsitrict Commander Bernadette Kelly, with a CC: to Arnie Fielkow, Jackie Clarkson and James Carter. Commander Kelly has responded with concern and promised an effort to get to the bottom of things. Mr. Filekow has responded, saying that if true, these events can not be allowed to stand. The officer in question knows exactly who I am, what I look like and where I live. I am not kidding when I say I fear for my safety. An on duty police officer who will brandish his weapon, even empty, in response to a noise complaint (what the hell were they doing that for, anyway?) might become much more dangerous, say after dark and a weeks’ suspension. Should I turn up with a toe tag, I want somebody out there to know why. My email follows: Dear Commander Kelly; (bwkelly@cityofno.com) My name is David, and we’ve met at many of the Nonpac meetings at your station house. I live across the parking lot from you, as do several other tenants in the building. I was one of many who were more than happy to see the 5th District relocate to the Universal Building. Unfortunately, some issues have gotten out of hand. I have asked many times, over the phone and at meetings there, that the officers in the parking lot be aware that there are a dozen or so tenants with doors and windows facing that lot. Yet the noise level, at all hours mind you, has only gotten worse. From ‘testing’ sirens at 2am to the blasting of car stereos at 11:30 pm. They have actually backed the car in to the corner and opened the trunk, to make it louder, like they were tailgating at a game. Today, at about 5:45 pm, two officers were using the car PA system to make ’shooting’ noises, and blast the theme from ‘COPS” ( bad boys) over the PA system. During a break in the noise, I asked them if it was really necessary. The officer already out of the car, looked at me, and then the music came back on., He then took out his pistol, pulled the clip, and set it on the hood, then pulling back the slide and releasing it over and over to the Theme Song. What is that supposed to mean? Is it a threat? Are they just playing cop and playing with their guns to amuse themselves? Is it necessary to do this at such loud volumes? Are we, as neighbors to be ignored by gun waving people with blasting car stereos? How is this different than the public nuisance they are supposed to be controlling? Who does one call when the loud, armed, delinquent neighbors ARE the police? There is also the issue of the one way Street I live on. Spain Street runs towards the river from St Claude Avenue. Yet cars come out of the 5th District lot entrance on Spain, and head the wrong way on to St Claude, many times a day. In the beginning, it seemed to be patrol cars in hurry to get somewhere. Then it became a common occurrence. Now, officers do this when out of uniform and in their private vehicles, coming and going. This happens off and on around the clock. I have had to screech to a halt when entering Spain Street from St Claude, because a private vehicle was coming the wrong way, and fast. This happens with alrming frequency. Two days ago, one patrol car was on the way out, and one on the way in, when they stopped, driver’s window to driver’s window, and completely blocked the intersection for over five minutes. I could not hear the conversation, but I did hear intermittent laughter, as if jokes were being told. Were any of the neighbors to behave in such a manner, we would certainly be ticketed or arrested. Yet this goes on unchecked, and is getting worse. I mentioned it to you, and to Lt Rattler on more then one occasion, going back over six months. Lt. Rattler discussed putting an end to this behavior when he attended our anticrime meeting, just after Wendy Byrne was shot, last winter. So far, there has been no discernable improvement, in fact, quite the opposite. I suggest to you that this sort of ‘We do what we want’ attitude from the local police, an open flaunting of disregard of the law, gives the impression that those who have the guns do as they please. Is this the message you wish to send to the neighborhood kids? To the neighbors around you? That the Police can break laws we must obey, whether they are on duty or off? That they can blast their music day & night without concern for those who live and work on these blocks? That any complaint is to be answered by the suggestive cleaning of a gun? Why is a trained police professional cleaning his gun in an open parking lot in the first place? Finally, I came home from work the other day, to have a man in prison uniform, standing on the 5th District drive way on to Rampart St. ask me for a cigarette. I refused to answer. He then began calling out to a passing girl on a bicycle to ‘come one over’. She fled. Why are inmates, trustee or otherwise, wandering around in the parking lot, hooting at girls and begging for cigarettes? Is this evidence of the safety level to be expected in the 5th District? While I would love to hear that these issues will be dealt with, I’ve heard it before. What would be great to hear is the reasonable respect that a neighborhood can expect from the police officers that their tax dollars pay to employ, rather then the thug behavior of indolent neighbors.

Skull Club Returns

SKULL CLUB Membership Drive

Becoming a Member of Skull Club is something I get asked about a lot. How does one do it? What does it entail? What are you people DOING up there? It’s really quite simple; Skull Club Members are creators or fans of The Arts. From fine oil painting to live Rock n Roll. We enjoy each other’s creative company, and works,in the privacy of one of the coolest spaces in New Orleans, the Loft at Temperence Hall, built in 1847, and developed as an Art Space, by yours truly, Lord David, over the last decade. Skull Club has developed over time from an Alternative Gallery Space and Speak-easy, in to a full blown Performance Venue and Private Social Club, hosting such events as the New Orleans Fringe Festival, Apocolypstick Fashion Shows, CD Release parties, New Movie Screenings, Cabaret Music Performances and Costume Balls. The Second Saturday of every month the Skull Club holds Open Gallery Night,(in association with http://www.scadnola.com/)and offers the general public free admission to see new works by local artists and a chance to hang out in this wonderful space that many of the rest of us take for granted. By purchasing a Skull Club Membership you not only support The Arts, (a noble cause), but gain admission to world apart. There are at least two events every month that are for members only, or have a cover charge for non-members. At the Event Membership level of $40 a year, you pay only $4 a month for the 10 months a year we are open. This is less then one cover charge, and certainly worth the discounted prices at our Cash Donation Bar. You’ll probably break even in the first hour of each visit. Active Members are also encouraged to take part in performances, show approved work, bring mp3 players for open DJ events, volunteer as staff and invite non-member friends to share in the Skull Club Experience. Then there is the private VIP room.... Check the options here, and see what suits you. The doors are, at long last, open to New Members. Join us, won’t you? The Skull Club wants You. You know who you are... http://skull-club.com/members.html

Right Now....

As brief as a moment is, that is when living is done. - Lord David

Obituary for A Friend

In the mid-to-late nineties, after running the gambit of art gigs to little financial avail, I made the move back in to bartending. As it so happened, a very good friend, and fellow artist, Jimmy May, had taken over the bar at 626 St Philip Street, across from where Flanagan's is today. It was called Sin City. He took me on as full time bartender, and, within short order, I was managing the place for him. Inside, it looked like a Biker Club House/OpiumDen/Bordello/Pirate's Hold/Seance Room. Only more insane. Christmas lights and ladies under garments hung from the ceiling like stalagtites. The music blasted everything from Monster Magnet & AC/DC, to James Brown & Elvis, to Sammy Davis Jr & Tom Jones. Thick curtains were hung to keep out the light, some days, and it was often midnight in to the late afternoon, inside that decadent world. And it Rocked Like Fuck, 24/7, for almost five years. When it eventually closed, we were mostly amazed we had gotten away with so much for so long. We worked together at other places, off and on, for many years, bringing each other in, wherever we wound up, as gypsies, artists, pirates and rebels often do. Fear & Loathing in the French Quarter, we called it. As time went by, Jimmy worked the Apple Barrel on Frenchman street, being one of the first to skate the 'caberet laws' and bring in live music, anyway. From Coco Robicheaux to Mike Hood, they came and played. And played and played. I sat in with Coco & Mike many times, getting yanked from my drink & chair to have a guitar stuck in my hands, and we were off and running. Jimmy sometimes sang from behind the bar, or on it, occasionally jumping over it, in to the crowd, microphone and cocktail in hand. Jimmy and his wife, Michelle, were married at my house, The Skull Club, with Coco Robicheaux conducting the ceremony, just as Jimmy, himself, had conducted my wedding there, about a year before. We were all each other's family, spiritual guides & healers, musicians and friends. The band that played the night of Jimmy & Michelle's wedding was stellar beyond even New Orleans standards, with each player being a band leader in their own right, gathered together for something bigger than just music. We gathered together for love, New Orleans style, as true a family as this Island Of Misfit Toys can ever hope to have. And that family continues to this day. We share memories of the Fear & Loathing parties, complete with full costumes and our own 'additives' that often raged for a day or more, leaving even some French Quarter regulars with eyebrows raised. Memories of escaping a city filling with water, and finding each other on the road, returning together in that old Mexican Ford Van, stopping first for beer & Ice, and then just stopping, slack jawed at how little was left behind for us to rebuild from. We went on. This morning, Michelle awoke to find Jimmy dead, a thing no one can possibly understand the impact of, unless they have done it. May you never have that chance. Ever. His ongoing illnesses were, we thought, coming under control, and when I last saw him, a couple of weeks ago, he was laughing, joking and seemed healthier than I'd seen him in years. I suppose that looks can be deceiving... Those who knew him, by encounter or deed, know that a brilliant Jester in the Court of Life has left us. One of those rare people who would stop their world, and stay talking to you, all night, if need be, to help put your troubles in perspective, is no longer there for counsel. Perhaps one of the most hilarious and devious pranksters and instigators I have ever had the pleasure of stirring the pot with, is no longer available. The world has lost another of it's brightest sparks. Rest in peace, Jimmy May. We rocked our corner of the world together like maniacs. Your leaving will make for some still waters, my friend. As your attorney, and in your honor, I promise to stir things up from time to time. love, LD

Say It Now

My mom is ill. She's hospitalized and we are all aware that she will never leave that place alive. While we, as a family, are also aware the she will get better care and comfort there than anywhere else she could be, it is difficult, at best, to deal with final phase of her life. On Thursday, August 27th, my dad, and my brother, who was visiting him to help out, were returning from her hospital visit, when an allegedly drunk driver hit their vehicle, broadside, at about 60 miles an hour, killing my father. I won't go into the emotions and thoughts that come with such an incident, at such a crucial time. They are too vast, too fleeting, too personal and too raw to discuss. Nor will I pontificate on the subject of drunk drivers, or any other of a million selfish acts humans mindlessly commit, taking each other's lives. It is all sad beyond reason. Like many strong willed young men, and their fathers who forged a family out of post World War II America, with young children & wives to support, my father & I had our difficulties. Those born to Art & the Avante Garde are frequently at odds with the regime that spawned them. These things are part of life. Our reconciliation over the following years is also a fairly common thread, as the youth enters the Machine of American Life, and understands the death defying circus one must master to accomplish this. And master it, my father did, raising a family of four children and a stay-at-home mom for decades on end, moving us from the hellish Langley Park Projects of Washington DC, to respectable working class neighborhoods of New York and beyond, and creating in us all a fiercely independent and pioneer spirit that crossed all lines and social barriers, teaching to simply Do The Right Thing. Finding out what that is makes life's journey worth living. Of any & all accomplishments I have, or will make in my life, the greatest one of all is this: Making sure, as uncomfortable as it may have made him, to tell my father exactly how much I loved and appreciated him, again, only two days before his death. I would encourage each and every one of you reading this to consider doing this to those who really matter in your life. It may be your last chance. You never know. Letting those who love you, however they express or do it, that they are loved in return, that they are appreciated for singling you out as worthy of such a deep and strong emotion, well, it's The Right Thing To Do. It just is. I miss you already, Dad. And I love you. Still. And wherever you are, I know that you know. We're taking good care of mom, too. Rest now, in peace. You've done more than enough. Thanks.