Tag Archive: Mount-Airy


‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock and Flesh’

Contemplation

Contemplation

By

Gregory V. Boulware

Part Two: “The Wedding Party”

“We knew we were all doomed…all of us who knew.”

/*

Abberline recalled the statement from one of several interviews with the six whores of ‘Cleveland Street’ in the ‘White Chapel District.’ The funeral of Martha Taibron brought them all to collusion. They needed to join forces for their very survival. They were constantly pursued by McQueen, the pimp of Nickel Street. He extorted money and sexual favors from the street walkers – ladies of the night.

“They were lured with grapes, champagne, and laudanum. And then they were all euthanized.” The inspector spoke in trance-like sentences. “They were transported and dumped.”

The inspector began interviewing professional men. He spoke with doctors, dentists, taxidermists, veterinarians, surgeons, barbers, and butchers to the disapproval, chagrin, and dismay of Scotland Yard High Officials.

“Foreigners are the culprits. They are the ones who are upsetting our economy – The Jews.”

The boasting neuro-surgeon showed pride amongst the gathering of Britain’s finest professional colleagues. This one…this Dr. Farrow, guardian to Sir William Gull; master surgeon and newly ordained member to ‘The Society and Brotherhood of Free Masons – an entity founded by Jews; glared at the inspector as he passed through the dining room of the Masonic Hall.

“It isn’t an Englishman,” said the Scotland Yard Commissioner. “Thank God.”

Dr. Farrow is the attending doctor to the Queen and the Royal Court.

When all had been exposed, the organ collecting masonic avenger lobotomized, the killings subsided. I felt that I was no longer watched by the brotherhood. Albeit, the feeling, the tense feeling of Dred overshadowed what was supposed to be peace. Inspector Abberline was once again summoned to duty. This new danger has shown its face with a sign written in blood.

To the dismay and embarrassment of Scotland Yard, Inspector Abberline did deliver the truth of the matter. He delivered a truth that Scotland Yard decided to disallow. It refused the inspector’s theory from the time he discovered the text. The text in the book was written by the founder of the ‘Free Masons.’

The blood printed sign was directed to the murder investigations by Scotland Yard personnel. The inspector dreaded answering the call. He sure as hell did not intend to go back through the ‘Gates of Hell.’ He fought against evil and won – even though it wasn’t sanctioned by the brotherhood or the royal house or his immediate supervisors.

But, answer the call he did…it was his duty to God and Country. Inspector Abberline arrived on the scene to see the sign first hand.

London Town’s Chief Commissioner was there as well. There was a large contingent of reporters and photographers breezing all about as well.

On the wall, atop the freshly butchered corpse of Mary Kelly’s White Chapel mate…Martha Taibron. The blood-stained message was posted for all to see:

“The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing”

Abberline argued that the message was written by an educated man. The point was not unlike his investigation findings and determinations.

The higher echelon was well aware of what was done to hide and cover-up the guilt and shame as well as their association with the perpetrator. The guilt of the brotherhood and all its members, including the top commanders of Scotland Yard, and the royal house; they all knew about the secret wedding sanctioned by the Catholic Church and witnessed by the ‘Whores of the White Chapel District.’

The kidnapping of Annie Crook was intent to capture her and Baby Alice. The marriage and the baby posed a direct threat to the bloodline of Queen Victoria. She exploded with anger and ordered the elimination of the two.

“How dare my son marry this thing – this creature – this harlot – this streetwalker whore who is less than the lowest commoner!” The Queen delegated the task to the Lord Chamberlin. The order was then given to Sir William Gull, ex-master neuro-surgeon, member of the Brotherhood, and in service to the Queen. This opportunity served well for the doctor’s alter ego and major organ removal, primarily the offending sexual organs of the streetwalking females of the night. Also entwined within the assignment awaited the open door sanction for revenge. The execution of traitors provided Sir William Gull with great pleasure. He hatched a sinister deed in executing the traitors to mankind and the sanctity of marriage – the abomination of fornication – the elimination of whores and prostitutes.

The assignment specifically called for the deaths of six whores from England’s White Chapel District on Cleveland Street.

The wedding party was of a private nature. Mary, Liz, Kate, Marie, Mitzi, Martha, and Anne Crook, the bride, were all present. They wore their best dresses while Anne was adorned in a brand new white wedding gown of the finest chiffon, silk, and satin. No expense was sparred. She was truly a lovely bride beneath veils of fine woven material and true love.

Prince Eddie donned his majestic white uniform of royalty. The pure silver and golden sashes with breast-pinned medals gleamed and flashed of blinding brilliance. He was accompanied by his most trusted and close assistants. These particular individuals were sworn to the greatest of secrecies. They were all loyal except for one of the most important members of royal service. Sir William Gull was succeeded by Dr. Allan Farrow who personally treated, attended, and reported directly to the Queen.

The head Priest of the Catholic Church presided over the ritual. Baby Alice was born soon after. The Prince and Anne were infatuated with one another. The sexual romance and interludes began at the White Chapel Brothel, run by a sinister, conniving, and snakely individual identified by police and colleagues as ‘McQueen.’

His position was one of ownership over the six whores in attendance. The seventh, Mary Kelly, would soon fall into the fold, one way or another. Mary was independent. She was beginning to succeed in convincing the other girls to stop paying McQueen for their non-existent protection and keep their hard earned earnings for themselves.

Eddie had become an exclusive client to Anne. She wanted for nothing and made sure to look after her sisters of the streets. McQueen had other plans for the women. The protection fees had just been increased. He also knew of the secret marriage.

“It’s in their best interest to pay me. If not, they will never work with their physical abilities again – and could possibly be found dead.”

The body was fresh. The gore of crimson was found just about everywhere in the alley. It pooled and puddled all about the body of the victim. The wounds were nearly invisible to the naked eye. Albeit, sliced with the utmost precision…the precision of a master surgeon. The organs were skillfully removed with no sign of brutal ravaging. Even the killing cut was a work of art.

New York City was not very much unlike Paris. The hustle and bustle of the people mirrored many images of many busy cities across the globe. The rain poured and then misted accompanying a thick cloudy atmosphere. The smell of breakfast delicacies and strong rich coffee permeated the ‘Garment District’ this morning. Duprae and I strolled along 7th avenue just as the Sun poked rays above and over the horizon line and the top edges of buildings and the sparse spreading of greenery.

Chaunea insisted on a ‘walk-about’ just as soon as we could get settled. Our rooms were very cozy indeed. Cozy enough to meet our immediate needs. I meticulously hung my garments with care. We really didn’t know how long we would be visiting the island city. He wanted to familiarize himself with the everyday lifestyles of the city-folk in New York. He did the same thing in Philadelphia once. I recalled our chance meeting in Baltimore while planning the trip to Paris. Was our chance meeting in that obscure library really a chance meeting? I wondered while studying his current movements. The Inspector and I first met in Baltimore City. He’d taken the position of interest in my written works during my employ with one of several news and article agencies. The interest was aroused while perusing an article; one of many publications, concerning a black bird. His reason for the office visit was to place and advertisement in the newspaper of which I was employed.

The beneficial coincidence allowed he and I to become acquaintances…a kindred spirit of sorts. We did become very close friends and eventually, like brothers.

It was highly fascinating to learn, as time progressed, that Chaunea and I thought and felt very much alike. He of course is more advanced, sharper, and keener than I.

I’ve learned and continue to learn very much from him, especially in the art of deduction, rationalization, analyzation, reasoning, and patience.

The ballast and cobble stoned streets appeared and served as they did in the aforementioned metros. The rancid wetness of early morning garbage filled the cool breeze. It caused the sinuses to tingle and the nose to itch as the multi-collaboration of aromas urging face twitching annoyance.

We were not long departed from our sea-going vessel when our American journey got underway. We breakfasted at an eatery near the corner of 34th Street and 7th Avenue. Abberline was already finishing the morning news when we entered during his nearly completed nourishment.

After completing an enjoyable greeting and eating; allowing Abberline to finish his meal, the three of us headed towards the chief inspector’s Manhattan office at the nearby police headquarters.

We walked a few blocks on 34th Street to Amsterdam Avenue. The building was a rather handsome yet large ‘Brownstone’ with gated or bared windows on the ground floor level. We climbed the stairs to the second floor landing. Turning to the left at the end of the corridor was the inspector’s office. The center of the door was of hazy non-see-through glass. Printed on the outside was ‘Chief Inspector Abberline, Scotland Yard Investigations.’

Abberline was a tall yet thinly muscular man with long wavy black hair which surpassed his shirt collar. He combed it straight back. It hung in length to just above his shoulder. Many would consider him a handsome man. His apparel was not shabby, new, or top shelf; although neat and sharp in appearance, did not offend a normal eye.

The office atmosphere was brilliant and highly professional. It was fully equipped with all the latest gadgetry and literature. It also held the latest in communication, the telephone, and telegraph as well as a wireless.

The chief inspector stepped out from behind his desk with an extended his right palm, gesturing a handshake. We, as gentlemen and professionals, exchanged greetings and other pleasantries. Refreshments were offered and accepted as we made ourselves comfortable.

“Gentlemen, it brings me much pleasure to know the invitation to assist in this investigation has not been wasted.”

Queen Victoria ranted and raved. She threw her golden goblet across the room. It skidded off the gold-silver-and chrome laden table and hit the wall. The wall was painted ivory-white. The windows trimmed in shimmering brass, draped with silk and satin dressings on soft and dark pastels. The cup was filled with claret as it splashed all over. The chalice ended its flying and ricocheting journey after the wall by bouncing off the shoulder of a servant who simply passed by.

“We want them disposed of… We do not wish to know or care in which manner this thing is done. We want this matter dissolved and forgotten forthwith…or closer heads to thee, will surely serve instead.”

The first to disappear was the baby’s mother, ‘Anne Crooke.’ She was taken by ‘The Royal Secret Service Police’ while making love to the ‘Crown Prince.’ She had no idea it was ‘Prince Edward Albert Victor, the Duke of Clarence,’ and not simply ‘Albert’ whom she was atop; riding and writhing in quintessential rapture. Their combined effort of vigorous pumping up and down, lost in a sea of passion, had no clue of the impending assault. He caressed her naked flesh with pleasingly aggressive lust and the determination of fulfillment.

They hadn’t noticed the booming and thundering noises made by the invading usurpers of the White Chapel Brothel, of which their flat was located. Violently, pleasantly, engaged in the throes of sweet pleasure and passion, combined with that of pure love, the ex-harlot and the Duke did not hear the noise. The engagement was brutally and explosively interrupted when the bedroom door blew open and inward against the fast hold of the hinged frame. The door slammed against the papered wall as the fasteners within the wood splintered away from the wall that made every effort to hold. The abrupt action allowed the ingress of the horde to descend upon them, subduing them and separating them…forever.

The sexual fluids dripped all over the satin sheets as the ruffians ripped and pulled them apart. The burley men lifted the terrified Anne right up in a partially wrapped bed sheet, throwing her unclothed, down the stairs into the waiting arms of more darkly clad ruffians. They, in turn, carried her to the waiting carriage of black with six Black Stallions who kicked and whinnied to a full gallop. The mysterious escaping Black Carriage bore the royal markings of the majesty on its outer doors.

Prince Eddie, whom the local populace knew as ‘Albert’ or ‘Eddie’ was shocked and horrified. He was under the impression that he was the target of an assassination. Little did he know, the palace had known of his secreted rendezvous with the ex-whore for some time. She had become his exclusive concubine well before they were married; a wedding unknown to the Queen. Recent determinations, secretly discovered, were divulged to ‘Her-Majesty’ – Eddie was being treated for syphilis.

He was secretly taken to an undisclosed location. Anne was shuffled off to a nearby asylum, viciously interrogated, tortured, and finally lobotomized, ensuring the vile secret would remain a secret.

Fortunately, ‘Baby Alice’ was in the safe-keeping of Mary Kelly. She’d been left with Mary the night before. The following day presented the newly-weds with their six month wedding anniversary. Their daughter, Alice, was one year and eight days of age.

Arguments have been founded upon the fiction of truth. An investigation into said truth was quite possibly the objective to the point. Some have said that paralleling the inessential facts surrounding the murder of a young girl in New York as it relates to the double-murder in Paris, Madame L’Espanaye and the young mademoiselle, her daughter.

Abberline explained his departure from us in a brief manner to which he expelled our suspicions. He felt that our investigation was at a close in Paris while the threat carried itself across the waters into America; the facts addressing the murder of Miss Mary Cecelia Rogers.

Although the young woman’s death occasioned an intense and long enduring excitement, my journalistic intuition kept nudging me to not put trust in this inspector from Scotland Yard. He did not mention to the ‘Chevalier – Duprae,’ and me, his involvement of the coincidences surrounding the murder in Paris and the one in New York.

In my mind, I endeavored to depict some very remarkable features in the mental characters of my friend, ‘The Chevalier – Lord Charles ‘Chaunea’ Alexander Duprae.

The affair surrounding the deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter were placed on suspension. We could not dismiss the case due to its familiarity with this one in New York. Duprae’s concentration is now focused on the inspector and this case of ‘Mary Rogers,’ aka ‘Marie Roget.’

Before jumping head-first into the case, we decided to break from our mental meeting with ‘Chief Inspector Frederick Quincy Abberline’ of Sussex County in the Southeast of England. We felt that we deserved a much needed rest…a little ‘R and R;’ and maybe a little bit of debauchery and drink. The idea of smoking the plant was also entertained upon the undesired relapsing into old habits of moody revelry, I was found to be in a prone position nearly at all times during the dream-like binges; I do love the drink, love-making, and smoke; to abstraction. I really fell in with the humor; and continuing to occupy our chambers, we gave the future to the winds. We decided to slumber tranquilly in the present, weaving in and out dully around the world in dreams and allusion. We would take up the New York investigation soon after our mini-vacation; after all…Abberline in on the case.

Chaunea and I took a near drunken walk down Broadway. We sampled the area delicacies and needless to say, the beers and liquors as well. The neighboring taverns were cordial and amicable enough. I do believe that some of them, patrons and staff, did recognize us. Several recognized the famous detective via the newspapers and newsreel footage portrayed in the moving picture houses. The others who knew of me through my written works in magazines, newspapers, and periodicals. I dare say my printed image did me a great service as well.

“Welcome Monsieur Duprae, would you and Monsieur Poe like a quiet table in the rear or one close to the stage and show? The bar is also available for your convenience!”

The tavern was soft lit and full of people. The ‘Black Maître de’ seated us nicely into a cozy dark corner which allowed an excellent view of the stage and the entire establish as well.

The audience, primarily people of color from every continent imaginable, added an extra bit of flavor to our enchanted evening. The both of us do like an integrated crowd, made up of many different types of folk, cultures, and lifestyles. We both found that simply invigorating and fascinatingly wonderful. France and England had its fair share of the world’s populace, but not like here in the United States. The jazz music was unbelievable. It was magnifique and ever so delightful.

We must have spent the entire night here at the ‘Che De Lounge’ after our visit to the ‘Bamville.’ The same type of people gathered there as well. Chaunea enjoyed himself immensely. The bronze colored deva kept him upstairs for nearly two hours before rejoining me at our table.

We’d sampled many types of enjoyment this night. Our jumpstart of marijuana and bitters was topped off this morning with French Champagne, while the wine and cocaine flourished throughout the night. Chaunea did entertain the thought of visiting the ‘Chinese House of Pleasure.’ The address was supplied by the Chief Inspector. He swore us to secrecy when we parted for the evening.

“This is where I’ll be for a few hours – care to join me?” We both declined and shook our heads in unison while accepting the note for a possible visit later during our stay in the Americas. Chaunea talked himself out of the visit because he knew one hour could quite possibly turn into three days or more.

Just prior to sunrise, we did have our fill of pleasurable indulgences…it was time for sleep and rest before returning to work.

The singer on stage, as we prepared for our departure, was a petite ginger-brown woman with a masterfully overpowering groin for a singing voice. It was simply magnifying. The song she sang brought about memories of a story I once heard. Chaunea appeared to be in a recollective state of mind as well. The story brought memories of a not so long ago occurrence back in England – the ‘Family Talbot!’

The song she sung was mystifying yet entertainingly and eerily suggestive. It was more bluesy than that of jazz music. Its lyrics mesmerized us. The Chief Inspector also came to mind:

“I got early this morning, so I could walk the floor. I’ve got to hit the streets cause there’s a wolf outside my door.

The bill collectors are calling, and my kids need better shoes…gonna go to church on Sunday, cause I’ve got nothin left ta loose…

And it’s a good day…it’s a real good day for the blues.

It’s raining cats and dogs outside, and I’m lookin for a job. The man I worked for laid me off; Lord, I worked for him real hard! But I won’t let my kids go hungry, no matter what I have ta do…

And it’s a good day; it’s a real good day for da blues.

Things are gettin better, the check is in the mail. I just threw my last dime down the wihin well…

and it’s a good day, it’s a real good day for da blues.

I got up early this morning, so I could walk the floor. I’ve got to hit the streets, cause there’s a wolf outside my door. The bill collectors are calling, and my kids need better shoes, gonna go ta church on Sunday, cause I’ve got nothin left ta loose.

And it’s a good day…it’s a real good day for da blues.”

The song’s lyrics seemed to stay with us on our short walking journey back to our hotel. For me, I kept seeing the sinister figure of the Chief Inspector, glaring from the darkened corner of the flat owned by ‘Madame L’Espanaye. The vision continually haunted me to no end…

We expected to be awakened by the charms of harmonious chatter and laughter. We looked forward to the sensual arousal of breakfast aromas dazzling our every senses to complement the happiness of the nostrils. It did not occur.

We were abruptly awakened by two burly New York City Cops. They were not smiling while we twitched and bitched about; tossing and turning in our beds.

Abberline was standing in a pool of blood. His gloved hands dripped twelve-hour-old gore. The right hand held a freshly lit cigarette… His face was ghostly white; bloodless.

 

End of Part Two…Next, Part Three: ‘Isle Manhattan’

“The Changeling – Loup Garou”

 

Til Next Time….

 

Acknowledgements:

Mr. ‘Eddie’ Poe (Edgar Allan Poe) and I, the 3rd Party Voice of the Editor/Publisher, Gregory V. Boulware

This story is based on and greatly inspired in whole or in part by Edgar Allen Poe, Master of the Macabre, ‘Murders In The Rue Morgue (Street)’and The Mystery of Marie Roget

The Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

ISBN 9780385074070 and notes from Bookrags.com, “He has ruined the old sound with the first letter” http://www.bookrags.com/notes/poe/part17.html

“From Hell,” ~Jack the Ripper~

http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/2014/05/bowery-of-crimson-frock-and-flesh.html

“It’s A Real Good Day,” Ruth Brown

Wikipedia

Protestantism and Lutheran

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A Philadelphia Story Teller: “Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’

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ASIAN VOICES

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Hong Kong on the Brink

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*/


Still Water Lakes_1995

“Mountain Life”

“SHAMAN”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1545662-shaman-fairmount

/*
The medicine men and priests among the Indians were usually merely those men who thought more deeply and strenuously than the average men in the tribe. These thinkers tended to live among the more successful tribes. To think, one needed at least some time free from the chore of procuring food.
Native American tribes did not call their medicine people “shamans.” This is a New Age term often misapplied to Native American Spiritual Leaders by people of European descent, self-professed “medicine” people and their followers.

Native Americans, New Agers, and charlatans alike have radically augmented and revised the tenets of traditional Native American religions. “Crystal skull caretakers” sit beside Native American medicine men and medicine women, shamans and priests, and “Star Beings,” rather than buffalo, are pondered. Outraged Native Americans have entered this fray, castigating those they see exploiting traditional Native American spirituality.

These medicine men or spiritual leaders were in a different class than the other men of their tribe. This special status was not dependent on their hunting and fishing. Contact with other tribes enabled thinkers to build and expand their belief frameworks, so medicine men or spiritual leaders were more prevalent in tribes that were accessible to outsiders.

As contemporary Native American religious flowerings are best understood by first examining the origins of Native American Spirituality, all of the contemporary sects are best comprehended in light of the traditional religions. As these differ from their New Age and Christian versions, each group is also unique compared to other traditional sects. These traditional sects are best understood as a conglomerate by investigating a few individual traditional Native American religions.
Indian medicine men, spiritual leaders, priests and shamans
http://www.aaanativearts.com/medicine_men.htm

Chief Gerald Glenn, the Medicine Man, was second only to the chief in importance and standing within his tribal group. His duties involved both religious interpretations and pharmacology. A good medicine man became adept at both and as a result, he was often thought of as one who possessed magical powers. Before William Penn’s holy experiment, human impact in the Pocono Mountains by Native Americans and European settlers was minimal.

The Pennsylvania Mountains was one of the last colonies to be settled in the northern region of the state. The region remained wilderness until pressure from European settlers caused and influx of Native Americans from Maryland and the Carolinas’. Glenn, a direct descendent of the Lenape Chieftain of the Penn and Lenape Peace Treaty, 1682, Chief Tammany who died in 1718, was his great-great-grandfather. His wife, a Huron Princess, reared sons who took over as Chief of Nations along the Delaware Water Gap. They lived in peace with the residents of Stroudsburg, founded by Jacob Stroud in 1799.

The villages of the mountains raised buckwheat and rye, a big crop with potatoes, maze, oats, cattle, sheep, and hogs. Chief of his village as well as Chief of the Northeastern regional Forestry and Parks Services, Ranger Captain Glenn; like his, people are also members of the Northwestern Indian Confederacy in the Mountains of Pennsylvania, New York, and Canada. The tribal members are The Cree, The Creek, The Ottawa, The Seminole, The Huron, The Cherokee, The Algonquian, The Ojibwa, The Shawnee, and The Lenape Nations. Glenn continues his leadership in the protection of his people, their land, their tribal beliefs, and their heritage. Glenn’s mother was of Creek/Seminole descent while his father was the Tribal Chief of The Shawnee-Lenape (Munsee-Minisink) of Ontario Canada and the Poconos.

Willice Samuel’s family arrived up North from Georgia by way of Winnsboro, South Carolina. The family settled in Coatesville Pennsylvania, in or about April 1911. Willice’s Great-Great Grandfather talked about a lynching and burned at the stake murder of a Black Man by a mob of white men who wore masks. He said the Black Man; named Zachariah Walker was accused of shooting to death a white cop; named Edgar Rice. He was supposed to have been a special police officer in Coatesville. He went on to say, “The Colored Man was chased and treed in the woods in or near the Robert Faddis Woods near Youngsburg.

The Black Man tried to shoot himself in the head, but failed. They took the Black Man to the hospital were his injuries were treated. A gang of white men broke the window in the main hallway, corralled the police officer guarding him and dragged the Black Man from his sick bed to the Sarah Jane Newland Farm just to the right of the road and almost directly opposite the farmhouse. In a grass field about fifty feet from the road, they gathered dried Chestnut Rails and old fencing to build a fire. It took all of three minutes to get the fire up to a height of ten feet or more. They asked him if he had any last words…he didn’t. He was then thrown into the fire. The flames burned his clothes and seared his flesh – he managed to leap from the fire-pile and jump over a fence. They caught him and tied a rope around his neck and dragged him back onto the burning fire. Walker tried two more times to get out of the bonfire. He tried to get out of the seething furnace of hell. But he was beaten and pulled him back on the burning pile with each try.”

Great-Great-Grandpa continued on with the graphic details. “The sickening smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Folks came from all around to see and take pictures of the burning Black Man. They laughed and drank liquor. Their children had fun too. This all happened on or around Saturday April 12, 1911…we packed and moved to Philadelphia.” The Willice’s are descendants of America’s lucrative Industry of Black Slavery.

“The understanding of the racial question does not ultimately involve understanding by either Black or Indians. It involves the white man himself. He must re-examine his past. He must face the problems he has created within himself and within others. The white man must no longer project his fears and insecurities onto other groups, race, and countries. Before the white man can relate to others he must forego the pleasure of defining them.”

~Vine Deloria Jr. – Samuel L. Katz, Black Indians, a Hidden Heritage~

For the people of the ‘Americas’ the arrival of Columbus was hardly a blessing. On his first day, October 12, 1492, the explorer wrote in his diary – “I took some of the natives by force.” He later found the original inhabitants to be tractable, peaceable, and concluded ‘there is not in the world a better nation.” His response as a European was to say that Indians must be made to work and adopt our ways.

The Columbus whose unique seamanship opened the Americas to European penetration also began the transatlantic slave trade. He started by shipping ten chained ‘Arawak’ men and women to Seville, Spain. In 1498, he wrote enthusiastically to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella about the business possibilities. “From here, in the name of the blessed Trinity, we can send all the slaves that can be sold.”

When he loaded 1100 ‘Taino’ men and women aboard the four Spanish ships, the crowding and the stormy Atlantic crossing took a fearful toll. Only three hundred survived. But Columbus and Spain had decided to continue the profitable slave trade from the Americas. Seville became the slave capital of Spain.

Spanish Priests were the first to denounce the horrors of bondage. In 1511 Dominican Friar Montesino called slavery a mortal sin and said cruelty and tyranny over Indians could not be justified by Christians. A few years later Bishop Las Casas, who witnessed countless Indian massacres by his fellow Spaniards, blamed greed for the horrors.

“They kill them because they want to be rich and have much gold, which is their sole aim.” Las Casas concluded that in the New World Spaniards had become devils and Indians were the only true Christians.

Las Casas led a determined effort to halt Indian bondage. He pointed out that Indians died off by the thousands from slavery and European diseases. Forced labor in Spanish mines in the Americas was so harsh that the average worker died before he was twenty-six.

To meet their need for more laborers, Europeans looked next to Africa. The strongest sons and daughters of Africa were seized in their homes and fields or purchased from local traders. They were packed into cargo ships and shipped across the Atlantic.

“Children are torn from their distracted parents; parents from their screaming children; wives from their frantic husbands; husbands from their violated wives; brothers from their loving sisters; sisters from their affectionate brothers. See them collected in flocks, and like a herd of swine, they resist; but all in vain. No eye pities, no hand helps.”

~Thomas Branagan~

The first Africans brought to the New World by European slavers probably arrived in April 1502 aboard the ship that brought the new governor of Hispaniola, Nicholas de Ovando. Soon after they landed, some Africans escaped to the woods and found a new home among the Native Americans. Later that year Governor Ovando sent a request to King Ferdinand that no more Africans be sent to the Americas. His reason was simple – “They fled amongst the Indians and taught them bad customs, and never could be captured.

Why did he feel they could never be retaken? Had the two peoples united as a military force at this early date? Were Native Americans prepared to drive off European slave-hunters? Was an alliance taking shape in the woods between two peoples who opposed the Spanish conquerors?

Governor Ovando described more than a problem of bad, untrustworthy servants. His words are more than a complaint about the difficulties of recapturing fugitives in a tropical rainforest. His words are the first hint of a growing problem for the European masters of the New World, the first notice of a new relationship budding beyond their control.

Africans arrived on these shores with valuable assets for both Europeans and Native Americans. They were used for agriculture labor and working in field gangs, something unfamiliar to most Indians. As experts in tropical agriculture, they had a lot to teach both white and Red people. Africans had a virtual immunity to European diseases such as smallpox, which wiped out Native Americans.

For Europeans seeking a source of labor that could not escape, Africans were ideal because they were three thousand miles from home. They could not flee to loved ones, as Indian slave could. African men and women who fled could always be identified by skin color, and Black became the badge of bondage.

Native Americans soon discovered that Africans had some gifts that made them uniquely valuable. Through their slave experience they qualified as experts on whites – their diplomacy, armaments, motives, strengths, and weaknesses. Escaped slaves came bearing knowledge of their master’s languages, defenses, and plans. Sometimes Africans were able to carry off muskets, machetes, or valuable gunpowder. For these reasons their role could be crucial to Native Americans, their place secure in village life. A common foe, not any special affinity of skin color, became the first link of friendship, the earliest motivation for alliance.

Next the two peoples began to discover they shared some vital views of life. Family was of basic importance to both, with children and the elderly treasured. Religion was a daily part of cultural life, not merely practiced on Sundays. Both Africans and Native Americans found they shared a belief in economic cooperation rather than competition and rivalry. Each people was proud, but neither was weighed down by prejudice. Skill,    friendship, and trust, not skin color of race were important. Since Indians willingly adopted people into their villages, Africans found they were welcome.

In the century following Columbus’s landing, millions of Native Americans died from a combination of European diseases, harsh treatment, and murder. Africans took their places in the mines and fields of the New World. The estimated 80 million Native Americans alive in 1492 became only 10 million left alive a century later. But the 10,000 Africans working in the Americas in 1527 had by the end of the century become 90,000 people.

These figures are even more striking within local areas. In 1519 when the Spaniards arrived, Mexico had a population of 25 million Indians. By the end of the century only a million were still alive. The invader calculated that more profit would be made if laborers were worked to death and replaced. In their plans pain and suffering did not count, and no cruelty was considered excessive.

Out of the shifting labor forces a new population emerged of mixed Africans and Native Americans. By 1650 Mexico alone had and African-Indian population of one hundred thousand. Anew race was being born.

In 1510 King Ferdinand, visions of gold dancing before his eyes, lifted all restrictions on sending Africans to the Americas. He promised to send all that were needed and include “a trustworthy person” to be in charge of each group – an overseer. In this way, slave and masters would “share in the gold they may collect” and slaves would receive “ease if they work well.” This was an idle dream.

The slave population expanded, but was never rewarded with ease for its great toil. European masters continued to drive those in chains as hard as they could. Ease only came when people escaped to the forests and swamps. Increasingly Africans and the remaining enslaved Indians fled their masters and created their own secret colonies beyond European eyes. In time these would pose the most disruptive challenge the European colonial system faced in the Americas.

In the age of Columbus and Las Casas this threat was not clear. Europeans counted their profits and kept importing African as slaves. “One Black can do the work of four Indians.” Here, he believed, was a danger worth the price. His fellow Europeans heartily agreed with him. From then on slavery would expand, brutality would keep it in place, and whites would reap enormous profits.

The city is gearing up for a major visit from the ‘Vatican’ in the fall. The massive fallout of visitors and followers threaten complete and utter gridlock throughout the town. This major event was thought to be trumped by the ‘DNC’ convention that is sure to shut-down the city and create traffic fallout of nightmarish proportions. The catastrophe at the Philadelphia Zoo was no shot in the arm for peaceful and trouble-free contentions. ‘Rocky’ made his mark at the very same spot the ‘Pope’ is making his ascension to the podium for the mass commemoration throughout the commodious accommodations for the passage of blessings; touching all the people. Two investigators are assigned to cure this killing cancerous attacker from spreading its evil intent, in this virtual garden and smorgasbord of fresh fleshy meat to eat! Witness the terrifying events as they unfold…Glenn and Samuel along with Philadelphia’s citizenry, its counsel leaders, and mayor on one of the most thrillingly dangerous and deadly missions to serve and protect. Gerald Glenn and Willis Samuel are faced with one hell of a dilemma when a juggernaut on a rampage erupts in blood; ‘Fairmount Park’ and “The City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection!”

“FAIRMOUNT”

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18466439-fairmount-terror-in-the-park

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/23367249-gregory-v-boulware

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