Gratitude........

Bhagavad Gita and a mistake...

Brittney June's (BJ) # 1 birthday
(two months after our visit with my father).


Seventeen Years Later

After our visit, he sends some ever-easy memorabilia and an index card with the following:

"For Michael David—my beloved son- I send this material because you should have it and realize what a dreadful mistake I made in marrying you’re mother! Thank you for your very polite, proper note—I did appreciate seeing you ALL. I love you all- Dad September 1984

This quote is from the East Indian philosopher Bhagavad-Gita- I think it describes your mother very well—Please keep it. “For the uncontrolled there is no wisdom, nor for the uncontrolled is there the power of concentration, and for those without concentration there is no peace. And for the un-peaceful how can there be happiness.” Dad-- This is your Mother!!"

Both my parents would tell me: "What a dreadful mistake I made in marrying your......"

Hence Philip and I were 'mistakes'.........deep down, that's how I felt for years....it ruled every nook and cranny. Philip had made up his mind long ago.

My Chestnut Jewel.......and self-will run riot.

In 1983 my father sends a cassette-compilation of his music.
The final number on the B-side was his Easter Sunday 1944 NBC Radio-Philco Hall of Fame performance of Malotte’s “The Lord’s Prayer” with The Paul Whiteman Orchestra. Emotion still wells when hearing this piece, beautiful. First time that I heard much of his music in one. collection. First time I was truly ‘awakened’ to my father’s talents. Proud of this cassette, proud of anything I guess.

Sally informs me that she’s **pregnant; “WHAT! How could that be, you promised me that…”

All remaining demons were let out of their holding pen. I raged, ”How could we ‘afford’ another kid?” Immediately began to plot my escape. Matter-of-fact there was no plot. I moved out. Leaving a pregnant Sally and Eric, like a dazed, steroid-dripping racehorse out of the box, I bolted to New York City.

**Brittney June Evans is now twenty five….and miraculously has become my incredible, loving, beautiful singing ‘Chestnut Jewel.’ Marrying her high school sweetheart on Sept 18, 2009. Thank God the Universe had ‘other’ plans.

Philip has now returned to California. I move in with Jimmy (Philip's NYC voodoo enabler), stayed on his couch. Despite his suspected incantations, I stayed on his couch. Oh, he flat out asked me once if I’d like to sleep with him, I declined. Stayed as far away as I could from his bedroom. It stunk from incantation.

Just walking the sidewalks again was a thrill. The love of New York City and its one-of-kind energy never left me. L.A? Phooey.

My demons were in full slam dance and I knew it, sought comfort in any 'benign' way to cover my huge chronic angst.ever enlarging tortured soul..... hoping to keep me even (and legal ?). Then set out to re-book my shadow, my artist’s shadow. Got a job in the mail room of a dying Studio 54. Entertained free cocaine, a lonely lady and some mindless well-heeled disco lights. Hated it.

Village Voice classifieds found me a job as a dispatcher for ‘Prop Trucks’ on 60^th St. and 10^th Avenue. A bicycle messenger/trucking service for the city-film business (Customer self-importance was sickening but even more sickening was my reliable Artist Shadow lap-licker) based in an old 20,000 sq ft taxi garage that doubled as their prop warehouse. Did pretty well, in the thick of it, ranting and raving… running my men to and fro’. Keen with drama and deadline.

Most of these galoots were on a carousel of pharmacopoeia, so it became that familiar match made in junkie heaven. ‘If you get me this job, I got some good…’ Whether it be the nose, lung or mouth it didn’t matter. Bartering Garbage Buckets of the Stupefied.

I would bus it back to Danbury to see my family every weekend. Giving Sally what money I could. I was stingy and confused with the passive/aggressive love/anger that percolated. She reported me MIA to welfare with my blessing so we could benefit with some ‘free money.’ The shameful, chronically malnourished ‘get over’ beast rears its ugly cancer-like head again and again. I became a ‘dead beat dad’ with not even knowing it. Would pay every cent back over 15 years.

I thought I loved Sally, simply wanted our family to ‘work out.’ How could it possibly, we had already gathered a hoard of closeted skeletons that caught and gouged on everything and she was pregnant? How could I accept this new child through all the, confusion, narcissism and whirling tit for tat betrayal? From early on, my life was racking conundrum. Ye old familiar. Good, efficient stimulant for Victim Hood.

My weekend Danbury visits carried on.

On October 21, 1983 Sally called me letting me know that I had a daughter ‘Brittney June Evans’

7lbs 8oz. Numb in more ways than one… was I.

Letter from Susanna to our confused little family-----

January 3, 1984

Dear Sally, Michael and Eric! And Brittney!

How I wish I could have sent Xmas things but it seems I’ve become accident-prone! Plus other events. First of all, before I go into my dilemmas & ailments a word about yours.

I can imagine the pain you are going thru Sally, and believe me I pray for you and your well-being. Our beautiful addition to our families! That Brittney! If I may be so conceited as to say she looks like me in her pictures when I was little (Except she is a brunette)!

That made me tickled even if it isn’t true, because I have a very strong feeling she is going to be herself, just as I always wanted to be (you’ve seen where it’s gotten me!).

But we all have to get there somehow eventually so why not try to be yourself.

My arm was fractured by a maniac at the corner who wanted to use the phone (A big she). And said “Bitch get off the phone,” and twisted my wrist (of course I wouldn’t let go I have something in me) & I heard it snap (forearm). I had been calling the attorney because we had to make a settlement to get out of here (the guy has all the tricks for the Olympics) which we eventually made at the cost of my foot buckling for no reason at the attorney’s office which broke another bone (fell down three steps), then two days later the oven and broiler got on fire and I’m not afraid of fire but the rug caught too, and when I was smothering it I was stepping in it and burned my foot severely and was laid up for a week! Mamma Mia! We are moving too. Finally found a place. –I made a settlement that paid for me being driven around (by Chuck) for $100 etc. I made the owner pay for the moving, the first, last, cleaning and deposit on the dog. I did a pretty good job for an invalid but if you think Sam appreciates it, your dreaming! Al l free money and he’s so cheap. Also $50 for Ricky and Joey to move us—plus Philip and Sam moved for’ free.’ Beer free for all when it’s all over. Please Michael, after all that’s happened, please tell Philip he mustn’t take advantage of me.

As soon as we are settled—we have good sized rooms, large living room, dining room, big kitchen, bathroom, bedroom (SAM!) and linen closet. Balcony for all my plants (I’m growing tomatoes—wild man!!) Chica loves the balcony and decent neighborhood, near everything, $375 a month plus utilities, AND we’re getting a phone put in Friday. Laundry at the foot of the stairs.

NOW!! I’ve thought and thought as to what to get Eric (it will be his birthday and Xmas). I don’t go for these video, electronic toys unless it helps them in math and reading. Please write and tell me what he has. AND Brittney!! Did you know that I was going to write you and suggest the name I was going to name Michael had he been a girl, it was ‘Bronwyn’ from the book ‘How Green Was My Valley’—it’s a Welsh name. I loved the book and the film. And then you named her a name that began with BR! I, (of course) never got off the letter. But she’s so adorable, a doll. A big baby for a little one like you, Sally. I think her name is beautiful and different and Eric! How he’s going to take car of her!

Now has she been gifted with a Cabbage-Patch doll? I know you live in Conn., near Coleco. Please write me. I don’t want to send clothes unless I can afford to do so during the year. I’ve been very ill lately and Dr. Markanian wanted to hospitalize me last Friday because my palpitations were so severe (I was ready to jump off a building) But I’m on a diet and intend to get a bike and work at something. Please write. It’s the end now. Love Susanna

Letter from my father-----

22 Aug 84 save this letter!! Phone number important!!

My Dear Michael David and his love Sally---

I am now 79 yrs and “the days grow short when you reach September.”

This past week I have been updating my will and am sending my instructions to you while I am able!

First: You must come down here to see me and tell you what I want you to have—that is after Masako’s passing! We must be very careful in our talks before Masako—She is a strong-headed lady and arguments will not accomplish anything positive! However I do not want anything of value to me and you to end up in Japan! Where no one knows or cares about it! All my publicity books, pictures and my favorite library books—and cassettes!! I would have like hearing from you on that cassette that I sent you months ago! To busy to listen!!

Second: How to get here;--NJ Turnpike south to Exit 2—off and drive to Mullica Hill about 7 miles—when you come to Route 45 turn right (south) and thru the small village (2to3 miles)—

Do you remember Aunt Ethel Evans—my brother’s wife? Well she was on a cruise to Africa—had a heart attack—finally got back to her (old folks) apartment and died on May 9—she left a small amount of money to Masako and me—not enough to buy a new car!! I want you to have whatever is left. I have planned to have my attorney:

Edgar Hathaway Jr. ESQ.

13 No. Main Street

Elmer, New Jersey 08318 (###) ###-####

To call you—inform you to come down here—he has a key to our house and will let you enter—in case Masako and I go off together! Advise you to rent a truck to take all this furniture etc with you!! Mr. Hathaway will help you in any way you ask. Hope your job is still secure!!

We send our big love to Eric and BJ and you both, Dad.

In my ‘want to believe’ abnormalcy, this letter charged me up. I read it as, “I have money and things for you, come down and we will make it right.” I don’t rent a truck, I rent a car and the four of us head down to Mullica Hill, New Jersey on a Saturday afternoon. Wib’s first and last meeting with his grand kids. Toxic vibes from the ‘step mom’, phony smiles, Wib tripping over words. A short, strange visit, barely remembered. Probably the second or third time I had seen him in fifteen years. Wib did nickname Brittney “BJ.” Trip wasn’t in vain after all.

I would get nothing....and by the Universe's plan, would find and BUY everything on E-bay fifteen years after his death in 1987.

My trip to England and Drury Lane- June 20, 2009

Fifty six years later I return.

A wonderful time in England-land with a Leepule

Julie Wilson appeared in Mary Martin's role the last year.

ME in front of the Drury Lane theatre- 56 years later-June 20, 2009

'Delux'

Formed a band with some fine Danbury musicians. Calling ourselves ‘Delux.’

A couple of old friends from the Cheeba era were members. I poured my heart and soul into ‘Delux.’ But attitudes, egos and alcohol disbanded the band, promptly. I was crushed. I cried, dumbfounded with my consistent string of music failings. Remarkably clueless, never connecting the dots.

Bobby Fink-Peter Bennett-ME-Gordon Rehm-Eddy Lang

Landing in New York; a new begining?

Landing in New York- 1982

Hot, humid and smog-encrusted Port Authority Bus Terminal: My son sets his eyes on New York for the first time and it’s a site for sore ones for me. Was thrilled to be back home, never mind the grunge and greasy no-shower trip; when the cab driver turned and said, “Where the fuck you want to go?”… I remember feeling a big sigh of relief; “I’m home!” Anointed in a cool mountain spring.

Six weeks go by, Sally is overwhelmed and struggling in Hollywood. Raped, held hostage for three days by a black punk rocker pimp next door to Ron and Rock (so she said). Did she ‘ask for it?’ Did it really happen? Sally was left alone and destitute...thats for sure. My son needed his mother…And I wasn't done yet. So we set up a new crazy life in Connecticut.

1/19/83

Dear Dad,

I hope this letter finds you and Mrs. Evans’ in good spirits. I’ve moved back to Connecticut with Sally and Eric. We’re living in Danbury and I’m working for Group Westinghouse cable TV, it might turn out to be a good job (I pray). I install cable television, hard work especially in this freezing weather, which I have to get used to all over again. Things continue to be a struggle, it’s got to be better soon.

I had to get out of Los Angeles, the place is 80% phonies! With five years there I could write a book, between driving a cab, surgical orderly, security officer for American Broadcasting, it was something I’ll never forget. But now I’m back in Small-town, USA. I think it will be better for all of us.

I guess Philip and Susanna are doing OK but they have a lot of things to work out within themselves and it just made it worse with me being near them, I guess we both know something about that!

Please write me and if you can I’d like to know about our family tree especially the Evans’ side which I don’t know much about. I hope one day to pass on to Eric.

All my love, Michael

22 Elm Street #8

Danbury, Conn. My father writes at the top of letter; “Good! Why Danbury in

particular? Jobs? Turnover? Why is it your fault?”

25 Jan 83

Dear Michael—

Well, finally hear from you and I was very happy to know that your out of zany Los Angeles—I hope you wont be foolish enough to ever go back! You seem to have had many jobs—evidently you know something about selling yourself-into a job. I know times are really bad—but have you evaluated your own personal worth?

Now you really understand the fine value of education-in any field. So settle down in a job you like and learn all you can about it! Only this way can you secure your future!

Consider night schools-theatrical schools etc. Your days of drifting and dreaming should be over! YOU have a wife and son so become a responsible man now!

Why did you go to Danbury? IS it the cable headquarters? Are your friends there? Again, I must give you some advice—so take it like a man—the one important thing I’ve learned in life is to develop yourself—develop friends of worthwhile character who are solid, successful in their work and happily settled into life—not g.d’d (God Damned) dope fiends!! Worthless people—better off dead!!

Where do you meet worthwhile people? Well, the first place is to look for a successful and wealthy CHURCH.

I don’t like Catholics—but the priests are usually men with great political and business contacts—only you have to become a Catholic before they help you! One more notch in their gun of conversion—they love to convert! If you can become successful—convert. It means no difference!

Next-usually the Episcopalians are solid and wealthy and educated! Their ministers have good contact with social and big leaders—I call them Republican Catholics! (They don’t convert!)

So get dressed up in your best Sunday clothes and start exploring the best churches in Danbury—for social contacts!! When you have made you choice—get invited churches programs—sing in the choir—join their men’s organizations. Work for their good—Maybe you’ll make some good solid friends. The Y.M.C.A is another place to get involved with good people! Put down social roots and become involved in local church-charity-Red Cross etc! This is an area in which a wife’s social acumen can help a man! S. Foster had none!!

How far in school did your Sally go? Is she socially oriented?

As to your request on the Evans tree—I think I know....

but I’ll tell you when I see you! No written record will exist! We are now less than 150 miles apart—easy to keep in touch!! Write soon and reveal all your progress in life! Love Always Dad

The family tree thing; in my letter I was referring to the hearsay that his grandfather was a Dupont. Was not specific, only mentioned “family tree,” but he knew what I was talking about. At his funeral five and half years later, seven people attended which included the minister and myself. I met his eighty- something year old cousin Greta Petermann. We stayed connected, ended up forwarding me THE Evans family tree dating back to the early 1700 Quakers. Benjamin Hazel from Smyrna, Delaware, was his illegitimate grandfather and purportedly a Dupont. Where’s Barry Scheck when I need him?

1-29-83

Dear dad,

Thanks for the great letter advice. I will always welcome especially from you.

One of the reasons I came back to Connecticut was because I did have friends here but unfortunately a lot of them have seemed to have dried up and withered away, that’s one of the reasons your letter hit home the way it did.

One of the reasons I have had so many jobs is maybe because I’ve held on so hard to my music. Dad, I can stun people when I sing and perform but your right my days of dreaming have subsided and a little more wisdom has settled in. I have always been very proud of you and mom, I think true artists! I think it’s genetically ingrained in me at least I’d like to think so.

You can’t believe how many times I’d meet people that knew you or knew of you—complete praise. When I was a security officer with A.B.C. studios, for the General Hospital soap opera. I met a woman who has a running part on the show. As it turned out, she studied with you in 1947 and went on and on about it.

Charles Nelson Reilly, you might know him he’s the fellow who played the landlord on the Ghost and Mrs. Muir and many other TV shows he said he worked with you and knew of no other performer who could move people the way you did.

Sally does two things very well bar tending and nursing believe it or not! Unfortunately she makes more money bar tending… Rest of letter missing…

9 Feb 83

My dear Son,

I was so happy to receive your letter and your understanding and accepting my fatherly advice. During all of your formative years I have not had any opportunity to offer my thoughts on any of your problems. You know who caused this dreadful separation., but I’m still grateful that we can “talk” to each other!

I too came back to New Jersey to be near my friends in Philadelphia—but alas, all of them have died or disappeared. —So I do not have anyone left in Philadelphia. Except you’re Aunt Ethel Jackson Evans—my brother’s widow who is retired and 75-76 years old. I seldom see her! Too far away—44 miles.

Ma-SA-KO (all even syllables) is the name of my wife. A TRUE ANGEL!

Of course you have music in your blood—that’s good and bad! Good while you can work—bad when you cannot perform—to wit: Your father and your mother!! I had a solid performing record from 1928 to 1967—Man of La Mancha was my last Broadway show—I was wise—I saw the future of my life—trying to find work. I had an old buddy from Philadelphia days who was in the U.S. Army Entertainment Program called the Special Services as a Dept. of the Army Civilian Specialist in Music and Theatre!! And went to Saigon as Chief Executive of USO shows—responsible for all those performers who went to “entertainment” the troops. I handled every famous name except Bob Hope—who had a Lt. Col. and 2 majors responsible for his safety!

When General Abrams—the Boss commander learned of my professional background, was impressed and kept me in Saigon for three and a half years.

Only my brother’s death in 1971 was responsible for my departure. My old buddy was back at Fort Bliss, Texas as chief and he got me a civil service job as Executive chief of Music and Theatre—main job producing and directing musicals. Not bad—What? I had great success in this job—why—because of my past theatrical experience! Ft. Bliss always won the Army Theatre Contests!

What would I have had if I stayed on performing? When I did make good money, your mother’s extravagance ruined me!! It is wonderful your Sally is willing to work and learn nursing.

Masako works as a seamstress and her checks buy our food!! Fortunately I get Social Security and a Civil Service Annuity and that’s all.

Let me know if you’re still in Cable TV—What are your prospects there?? Or Where?

I do hope and pray you will settle down into a solid position—make worthwhile friends.

Our love to you all, Dad

Things for a while remained fairly stable for Sally, Eric and I. Although with me, there was the constant thrum of angst…always ready for the next shoe to drop, be it my shoe, another’s or the collective. I was ingrained with The Doom… from way back. Perhaps sensing the faint, distant wails of that familiar freight train of insanity. I see now the seeds of my self-loathing were reliably stowed and germinating on this bruiser. Feral weeds primed to choke, throttle and take out. If I was lucky, maybe a life sentence.

We lived on Danbury’s Main Street in a low-income three-story walk-up. An apartment lined with cheap wood paneling, holes and roaches. Bedroom wall separating living room was more like a partition in an office cubicle, two feet from the ceiling. I guess so the ceiling fan could be more effective. We lived in three similar places within the next two and a half years before the shit hit the other fan.

My son on his Smurf drums, in our Elm Street apartment (Danbury's Main Street).

Sam and SF

Susanna with her rescuer 'Sam.'

Sam with treasured memorabilia

Sam Lieberman was a mildly retarded fellow from Brooklyn who helped Susanna off the street (out of her car). They lived together for a time in his two-room apartment of which Susanna described as filthy, hardly any furniture and remarkably covered from wall to floor with old movie magazines, clippings, and yesteryear movie star photos. The Opel-Kadette was found soon thereafter with windows broken and all four tires flattened on a Hollywood side street, biting the dust, as seen in Enquirer photo. Before long they would share a kinder place in North Hollywood, as in symbiotically platonic.

Several years after these photos were taken, Susanna would care for Sam as he lost his sight and life to a brain tumor. In the same apartment her son Philip lapsed into fatal hepatic-coma two years prior.

Boxes

A friend of a friend named 'Charlie' wrote the following 'Exploring my Mind'.....it very much reminds me of Michael and Philip's confusing fear-filled world:


Exploring my Mind

Flashlight in hand

Searching cobweb covered corners

Discarded memories in dusty cardboard boxes

On one box are the words 'Do Not Open'

Written by the hand of a child

Shining my light inside the box

I discover three brown paper bags

I open the note marked 'Confidence'

It is filled to the top

With emptiness

The second bag is marked 'Fear'
Bulging and much too heavy to lift
Feeling uneasy about looking inside

I shine my light on the third bag

This one is marked 'Dreams'

Written in colorful letters

This one too is bulging, but as light as a feather

Slowly opening the bag

I suddenly hear the most beautiful music

My ears have ever heard

Gazing inside, my eyes are held captive
By the wonder of it's contents
Visions of hope, love, understanding, happiness, and peace

All of the things that dreams are made of

I know now that there is no reason to look inside the bag marked 'Fear'

I know full well what is inside

Nightmares, broken dreams, disappointment, all- kinds-of abuse, and despair

The weight of the world on a child's shoulders

I understand the emptiness that is felt when self-confidence is stripped away
The heaviness of fear and what it does to a child
The lightness and hope that dreams bring, and just how important dreams are

I turn out my light and awaken

With only a vague memory of a journey

-Charles R. James