Journal Notes

The date on the small rock tombstone atop of Bob Ford’s grave in Richmond, Missouri is incorrect. Ford was born in 1861, but the tombstone has 1841 as his birthday. A reader who picked up a copy of Tales Behind the Tombstones pointed that out yesterday. The book was released in 2007 and I never noticed the discrepancy. I guess the tombstone has been left that way because Ford was not a well liked character then and he’s still not a well liked character to the folks in and around Ray County today. When I visited the gravesite for the first time there were still flags around the tombstone that read “The Dirty Coward who Shot Mr. Howard.” Howard was one of Jesse James’s alias. I’m not sure who oversees such matters, I’ll find out when I’m in Missouri in a couple of weeks. I’ll point out the error but I suspect they already know and don’t care. Since this matter was brought to my attention I’ve thought a lot about the “we don’t care” attitude from those in positions to make changes and set policy. Pulling from my most recent memory I note that an attorney working for the Missouri District Attorney’s office possessed such an mindset with regards to my brother and family more than seven years ago. My brother’s arrest was one of the most traumatic experiences I’d ever gone through in my life. As soon as they allowed him to make calls he phoned me crying. He was terrified about what could happen to him. All his worse fears were indeed met. During one particular conversation he asked me to go into the camper where he was living and remove some of his most precious possessions. He didn’t want his soon to be ex-wife to lay claim to the few things he left their home with. The camper where my brother lived was situated behind my parent’s home. At this point the mock investigation was over and the camper was NOT, NOR EVER WAS PART OF A CRIME SCENE. My brother was petrified and cried all the time. He begged me to help him in any way I could. “I’m innocent and don’t belong here,” he sobbed. I told him I would do what I could and that I would never leave him behind. I never went into his camper to remove anything, but I told him I did to calm his anxious heart. I would have told him anything to calm his anxious heart. I’d never experienced anything like that and I was in pieces. I promised that I’d get him out, buy him a house, get him a new car, I promise to restore his life and replace those things his ex-wife refused to return to him. The District Attorney’s office recorded the conversations I had with my brother promising him that I would take care of his requests and for reasons I still cannot fathom, told my nieces and nephew that I had removed evidence from Rick’s camper. I received a veiled threat from the District Attorney’s office shortly after that. I was told that if I return to be with Rick at court I would be arrested for “obstruction of justice.” Having no experience with the law that threat scared me. I knew then the Feds could come in an arrest you for no reason and I was frightened. Incidentally, I still believe they can arrest a citizen for no reason and keep them locked up indefinitely. Due process is only for the very rich. Looking back on the incident now I should have stood up to them and told them to do what they felt they needed to do. The D-A was selective about what they told my nieces and nephew. They weren’t interested in protecting them in the long run they only wanted to use them to get what they wanted right then. They succeeded. I just wanted to set the record straight in my small way and mention that I do have copies of the entire conversations I had with my brother in jail – should anyone be interested in the truth. TRUTH IS ESSENTIAL. Einstein once said, “Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters cannot be trusted with important matters.” That advise goes for D-A’s, anyone who makes false, life altering allegations against another and the inscription on an outlaw’s tombstone.

I like clean slates. The idea of blank canvas before me gives me some hope. The possibilities are endless. The first work day of the New Year…that clean slate promises to be filled by the day’s end. Looking forward I have three new books that are going to be released – two in the summer and one in the fall. I have three books to complete for release in 2013, a few speaking engagements, a book launch, and hopefully a Broadway musical and the development of the book Thunder Over the Prairie into a film. I am anxious to start work on the new fiction western based on the life of Laura Reno, sister of the famed Reno Gang and the completion of the mystery I’ve been picking at for eight years entitled Frogs in Paradise. There are several Bible studies I’m excited to be a part of and a full Easter production I’ll be writing and directing. Looking forward almost makes me happy…almost. It’s the looking back I still have to do that threatens to slow any real forward movement. The fight for my brother’s life continues. There will be results this year, most unpleasant results. I read a story entitled Matilda, Who Told Lies, and Was Burned to Death. It serves as an example of the results that happen when a person lies and ruins lives. I believe those who lied about my brother will be forced to deal with the consequences of their actions this year. Not in the literal way Matilda did, but certainly they will burn with the knowledge that their deceit was costly. And now, the story of Matilda. Matilda told such dreadful lies, it made one gasp and stretch one’s eyes; Her aunt, who, from her earliest youth, had kept a strict regard for truth. Attempted to believe Matilda: The effort very nearly killed her, and would have done so, had not she discovered this infirmity. For once, toward the close of day, Matilda, growing tired of play, and finding she was left alone went tiptoe to the telephone and summoned the immediate aid of London’s noble fire brigade. Within an hour the gallant band were pouring in on every hand, from Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow, with courage high and hearts aglow. They galloped, roaring through the town, “Matilda’s house is burning down!” Inspired by British cheers and loud, proceeding from the frenzied crowd, they ran their ladders through a score of windows on the ballroom floor; and took peculiar pains to souse the pictures up and down the house. Until Matilda’s aunt succeeded in showing them they were not needed and even then she had to pay to get the men to go away. It happened that a few weeks later her aunt was off to the theater. She refused to take her niece to hear this entertaining piece: A deprivation just and wise to punish her for telling lies. That night a fire did break out – you should have heard Matilda shout! You should have heard her scream and bawl, and throw the window up and call to people passing in the street. But all in vain! For every time she shouted “Fire!” They only answered “Little liar!” And therefore when her aunt returned, Matilda, and the house, were burned.

Coming Summer 2012

Sam Sixkiller was one of the most accomplished lawmen in 1880s Oklahoma Territory. And in many ways, he was a typical law-enforcement official, minding the peace and gunslinging in the still-wild West. What set Sam Sixkiller apart was his Cherokee heritage. Sixkiller’s sworn duty was to uphold the law but he also took it upon himself to protect the traditional way of life of the Cherokee. Sixkiller’s temper, actions, and convictions earned him more than a few enemies, and in 1886 he was assassinated in an ambush. This new biography takes a sweeping, cinematic look at the short, tragic life of of Sam Sixkiller and his days policing the streets of theWild West.

Howard Kazanjian is an award-winning producer and entertainment executive who has been producing feature films and television programs for more than twenty-five years. Chris Enss is an award-winning screen writer who has written for television, short subject films, live performances, and for the movies, and is the author or co-author of more than twenty books. The two also have also collaborated on books about Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, Elizabeth Bacon Custer, John Wayne, and the Intrepid Posse.

During the California Gold Rush (1848-1850), New York outfitters advised prospective miners that a pair of Colt revolvers was a necessary addition to their equipment. Given the condition of the State right now some would say a pair of Colt revolver would still be a necessary item to carry. One of the best gifts I received this Christmas was a working replica of a Colt. The Colt Navy 1851 is iconic and symbolizes the Wild West like no other handgun, it was used by such notables as Wild Bill Hickok, Buffalo Bill Cody and Calamity Jane, the Colt Navy also served on both sides of the Civil War. The Colt Navy was even manufactured by both sides as well…they couldn’t get enough of these accurate and reliable revolvers. It’s a black powder weapon and leaves a cloud of smoke behind after it’s fired. The phrase “skin that smoke wagon” was used in reference to the Colt Navy. I’m looking forward to going to the range. A Colt and time at the range are a great source of inspiration for writing books about the Old West. The three books I’ve been working on over the last year or so will be released in the summer and fall of 2012. Not quite sure where the launches of the books will be held but think it would be fun to bring the Colt with me. There are some great quotes about the Colt Navy in the film Colt .45. I always liked. Randolph Scott plays the sheriff in the film and is introduced to the weapon with the following line: “The first Colt repeating pistols in this territory, Sheriff. The finest guns ever made. Here’s law and order in six finger doses. Yes, sir, easy to load and as durable as your mother-in-law.” No matter how much damage a gun could do in the Old West and still do on the tamed frontier, it’s nothing compared to what can be done by a single corrupt lawyer. And this I’ve learned from personal experience…a lawyer with his briefcase can steal more than a hundred men with guns.

Family loyalties involve certain obligations. They are duties we perform out of love, as this simple story illustrates: One of two brothers fighting in the same company in France fell by a German bullet. The one who escaped asked permission of his officer to go and bring his brother in. “He is probably dead,” said the officer, “and there is no use in your risking your life to bring in his body.” But after further pleading the officer consented. Just as the soldier reached the lines with his brother on his shoulders, the wounded man died. “There, you see,” said the officer, “you risked your life for nothing.” “No,” replied Tom. “I did what he expected of me, and I have my reward. When I crept up to him and took him in my arms, he said, ‘Tom, I knew you would come – I just felt your would come.’” There you have the gist of it all; somebody expects something fine and noble and unselfish of us; someone expects up to be faithful. Merry Christmas to my brother Rick. I won’t forget you. Merry Christmas to all.

By 1030pm on Friday evening I finally completed the additional chapters needed for the mail-order bride book and sent them off to the publisher. I hope that’s the last on that subject for a while. I need to concentrate on completing the book about women outlaws of the Mid-west. I’m woefully behind on that book and it is due March 10. It would appear I’ve been playing catch up all year. Writing is my passion however and I can’t imagine doing anything else. No matter how far behind on a deadline I slip. This week promises to be as busy as they last 40 plus have been. Today I shall attempt to move the shell of a Volkswagen vehicle into the church sanctuary. We are doing a play entitled A Ride with a Perfect Stranger and need the vehicle as a prop. Months ago I thought it would be quite impactful for the congregation to see a car in the church. The play does in fact take place inside the vehicle. Now I’m having second thoughts. I just pray it all goes well as I have no backup plan. Looking back on this year I can see how the situation with my brother has deeply affected me. The toll it’s taken on friendships I was once able to nurture and the toll it’s taken on my health have been substantial. This ordeal has changed me so and I’m almost unrecognizable to myself. I pray for a bright outcome but never sense the Holy Spirit is giving me confirmation on that – perhaps because in this case there is no real positive outcome. Hearts will still be broken over all that was lost. Rick will never be the same physically or emotionally. None of us will ever be the same. “This world breaks everyone,” Hemingway once said, “and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”  Hope the readers of this post will take a look at the featured video posted.  There will be more to come in 2012.

Desperate brides, dental surgery and death threats…the last two days have involved a bit of all three areas and then some. Every time I submit the new book about mail order brides I am told by the editor that I’m 4 or 5 thousand words short. So I write a few more chapters and turn those in and another word count shows that I’m still 4 or 5 thousand words short. I’ll be back at it again today. I am going to submit a chapter about the Harvey Girls. If I’m still 4 or 5 thousand words short you’ll hear a scream of frustration from coast to coast. Yesterday’s visit to the dentist was a treat. And by treat I mean horrifying. I’m not a good patient during a simple cleaning removing several fillings and replacing them with new ones to save my molars really sends me over the edge. After poking my gums with a sharp instrument for several hours the doctor pointed out to me that my gums were bleeding. I felt the need to mention that they weren’t bleeding when I came in and that maybe the problem was him. I feel better today. The death threats have eased up somewhat. For a couple of days I was receiving emails that explained that “my days were numbered.” Whose days aren’t number? In the midst of the hate mail and name calling I received an email of encouragement I want to share. I do this not to suggest I’m deserving of such kindness but to point out that there are angels disguised as human beings who offer encouragement when it feels all hope is lost. “Hi, I attended some of your wonderful seminars at the SASS convention and I was deeply moved by your terrible experience with “Missouri Justice” and I applaud and pray for you, for what you are doing to help your brother. His story is tragic and needs to be told as there are so many men out there who have been unfairly incarcerated by terrible women who use the law to warehouse their husbands or boyfriends in hellish conditions, just because they can. You are brave and a woman of incredible strength, I feel the Lord is working through you to not only help your brother but to help others, and to get recognition to change the law into a process that reveals the offenders and champions the innocent. You go girl!!! Best wishes Sierra Lady S.A.S.S.” God bless you, Sierra Lady and thank you. Now it’s time to return to Object Matrimony, which is the title of the mail-order bride book due to be released next year.

The hardest aspect of writing is writing. I spend the day reviewing the research I’ve done on a particular individual and desperately try to create an original way to tell their story. That’s what I hope to do with Victoria Woodhull today. My goal is eight pages by the days end. I am anxious to speak with a gentleman who emailed me this weekend who is a relative of Harvey Logan from the Wild Bunch. Maybe there’s an untold story there. I’m excited to start digging. Of course nothing I write can compare to the pithy, succinct, hate-ridden emails I received this weekend. One example of such an email read, “Die, Die, Die, B___, B___,B____ for sticking up for your brother.” My personal favorite was “You should be repeatedly raped and thrown in a grave for defending your brother.” What started it all was the following email – complete with a bogus email address so there was no way to respond. All subsequent emails contained a fake email address as well. The tracking device on my computer system and the one built into the website quickly traced the author of the letters to a home in Norborne, Missouri. They initially tried to hide their location at a spot in Dallas, Texas, but again…the tracking devise. As I’m focusing on writing this morning I have to applaud the author of the hate mail. They decided not to be long winded with their thoughts. They were brief, to the point, and guilty. I can smell their fear all the way in California. In spite of the hate mail I’m going to continue to champion my brother. The emails make me believe we are on the right track. If the false accuser of my brother was secure in her testimony there would be no need to write such letters. Here is a copy of one of the first emails – certainly the only one tame enough to share.
Your Name
Sydney Lindsay
Your Email
syd.linds99@gmail.com

Message
You are seriously an awful person for continuing to defend your brother. Shame on you.

Apart from the fact the email address is a fraud (which given the author I’m not surprised) the use of the word “seriously” makes one believe the author is under the age of 20. As a published author I’d edited this piece by removing the word “seriously”. It’s not needed. I wish I could critique the other emails in this journal entry but they were too graphic to include here. And now it’s time to continue with my own writing. I’m overwhelmed with work and I’m grateful for that.

I am amazed sometimes how much life can be crammed into a week. Work, Bible study, rehearsals for the Christmas play at church, phone calls and emails with the lawyers involved in Rick’s case, lunch meetings about the condition of today’s prison system, private investigating assignments… I’d love some down time but need to be at an architectural committee meeting first thing this morning. I’m going to make plans to go to Monterrey soon and spend some time on Cannery Row. I don’t think I’ll have time to visit historic Monterrey for a few months but I can dream. I’ve been working on a book about women outlaws of the Mid-West and focusing on a lady named Victoria Woodhull. When she was arrested in 1872 for obscenity, she was one of the most notorious female outlaws at the time. And what was considered obscene at that time consisted of Woodhull sharing with readers of her newspaper the notion of “free love.” She believed women should be able to select her own lovers – such a controversial idea in the late eighteen hundreds. A few times during the day I check to see how many people have visited my website. I average about 65 visitors a day. Yesterday however I had 209 visits. I was very excited until I did a check and found out the hits came from one location in Lees Summit, Missouri. The user is a repeat visitor to the site who works at a hospital. I guess it’s to be expected. As Voltaire once said, “Fear follows crime and is its punishment.” That fear will only intensive as the year progresses. I’ve been waiting a long time for justice to be served – even longer to write about it. The Plea will be the full story of what happened to Rick and I’m more anxious to write about that than I’ve been about writing anything in a long time. It almost seems as though the desire to write at all was leading to this pivotal point. Amazing how God works.

“No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.” General George S. Patton, Jr.,in Patton by Francis Ford Coppola. Patton never was one for tact, but this quote reminds me of the events that took place today seventy years ago. I’m grateful to the men and women who fought for my freedom. I’m thankful for those souls in faraway countries today that are protecting this nation. I pray that the people in this country never forget the price that was paid for freedom. WWII Vets are passing away at an alarming rate and with them goes the history of that time. My grandfather served in WWII, my father in Vietnam, my brother Corey in the Gulf War, and my brother Rick served in Desert Storm. I spoke a bit about Rick and his service to our country last night at a women’s ministry mixer. Rick was one of the most patriotic men I ever met. His pride in country, as have mine, eroded away when we saw how the justice system really works. Part of the lesson at last night’s event was to write down the name of one person who was hindering you in your walk with the Lord. We were challenged to write down the name of one or two people we couldn’t forgive. I know who they are. I see their faces every day in my mind’s eye but I couldn’t bring myself to write their name on a paper. These two women have taken so much – more than they will ever realize. I have my own war against them that will hopefully come to a close in the New Year. I will not rest until they pay for the lives they have ruined. They grossly underestimated the devotion to what is decent and right. As Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto said to his superiors upon learning of the success of the attack on Pearl Harbor, “I fear all we have done is awaken a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve.” The war rages on.