The Catbird Seat
Can * nois * seur ( kan' us sur' ), n. one competent to render critical judgement on the qualities and merits of cannabis
Heads Up: Harvest time is here, a time to rejoice, but the Federal spectre looms, a shadow on the golden moon. Lately the menus at various dispensaries have gotten sparse, a sign that they're selling off inventory rather than restocking. So why the Federal witch hunt? It's still not clear, perhaps because the entire exercise is absurd. The only sensible reason is that it's a DEA "fundraiser" a ploy to inflate their budget--at the expense of medical patients, and a social program that works. Usually if you follow the money it leads to the real lies. state senator Mark Leno and assemblyman Tom Ammianno are drafting legislation to protect the clubs as nonprofits. Where's Obama? Doesn't he know that smokers vote?
So to all ye growers, trimmers and tenders out there, this bud's for you...
SPARC on Mission Street between 9th and 8th is at the forefront of gathering resources to fight this ominous trend. Check out their website and join the battle to protect our right to natural herbal medicine... sparcsf.org
The Catbird Seat
Once back on the street there were questions. Who had set me up and why so long to make bail? Obviously Bobby S had set me up ( along with a few others ) but i let the second question hang. i had more immediate, and deadly serious, problems. I had no income, and I was not about to go back to jail. You can't get good coffee in the slam. I needed to find a job and leave my wild and free ways behind.
Interestingly enough, my free ways left me behind. Few people want to talk to you after you take a bust. You definitely find out who your friends are. i needed bread for a lawyer and the rent. Bruce E. was one of those who was there for me. We met in a park on Bleeker Street, where Bruce took his son Derek. Bruce agreed to lend me $400 and i took a photograph of Derek, face smeared with chocolate and ice cream that is still clear in my memory.
Another friend was Rich who let me use his office as a base of operations while job hunting.
An advertising writer named Ned, arranged for me to meet another, highly respected copy man, Jerry Della Femina. Jerry went on to a brilliant career as #1 Mad Avenue marketing maven, and stylish restaurateur. Out meeting was short and his advice to me was this : "get emotional". It was the best writing lesson i ever received.
i put together a mock portfolio of advertising campaigns and copy including an anti-war spot and presented it to HB, then head copywriter for Bantam Books, and a minor legend for her headline for a mystery thriller...The Hardest of the Hard Boiled Dicks.
HB liked my samples and hired me.
It was like entering the gates of a major movie studio. Paperback books had stepped into the publishing mainstream after years as a poor relation living on Tobacco Road. Suddenly paperbacks were out earning and out performing their more staid brethren. Long known as a gentleman's business, the paperback trade had embraced glamour and hype to sell its wares.
At the same time the Summer of Love had arrived and very few people knew what was happening to America's culture. i happened to be one of them.
Bantam Books was a hotbed of creativity. Guided by Mark Jaffe and Oscar Dystal it grew in profitability and influence. One could pitch an idea to Editor in Chief Mark Jaffe and within the year the book would be on the shelves. i couldn't believe i was actually getting paid to read--and to write. Even better, my voice was being heard on a professional level. The better to inform the growing misinformation about the burgeoning youth culture
Through all the sexual euphoria, outrageous fashion and public outcry, i realized that the hippy movement wasn't social--it was spiritual...
Next: The Work Ethic
Recommended Reading: Tobacco Road by Erskine Caldwell
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