Ben Johnson, Actor, Cowboy, Oklahoman

I was a market manager at the old Hilton in Tucson and frequently had to wade through a posse of cowboys in the lobby, extras that milled about whenever there was a movie director in town casting for a new film.
    It was never easy to get used to it, Buffalo Bob Bad-Ass swaggering across the lobby floor with six-guns strapped to his hips, trudging back and forth in front of the director or location manager. Those idiots were real bothersome, but were real color back ground to tourists that checked in.
    My office was close by, and as I slipped into it, one cowboy was chatting on my phone, head down, at least he wasn't sitting on my desk. None of the local cowboy extras had ever gone that far, barging into our offices like that.
    I admit it, I had a melt down. I piled into him, a little indignant. Working in a hotel, trying to sell the place, keep it full, keep the sales staff busy, happy, gainfully employed, the General Manager, a aggravating little pip-squeak off our backs, one's blood pressure tended to peak.
    Our cowboy sat with his head down, drawling on the phone as I "interrupted " him.
    It was Academy Award Winner Ben Johnson.
    I was so shocked, mid-sentence, I blur,ted out, "Oh, Mr. Johnson, I'm so sorry." I left my office and dashed just outside under a palm tree I loved that guy, he was in nearly every John Wayne picture the Duke ever made.
    He came rushing out all apologetic, took my hand, and said that he didn't mean to give me a bad time, that the front desk said it was OK to use my desk and phone.
    I stopped him and said, " Mr. Johnson, you can use ANY phone in the house - ON ME!, and I'll go along with you to assure you Today, herds of buffalo roam just a hundred yards south of his ranch house, all over that range land, and road. My late wife and I had to slowly draw our car past a few of those beasts that could have easily hooked their horns under our windows and flipped our car. Phew!, they didn't.
    I told him my favorite film of his was "One Eyed Jacks," with Brando. He told me it was a quiet little film that never made much money. My take on it was he was the better actor in a scene where Brando said he would "rip your arms off," Johnson looked like he actually believed him; And I told him that. Ben Johnson was a great character actor, and proved it in the Last Picture Show.
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My friend left Tucson for Northern California for the money --$$

After 30 or so years here, struggling to make a living, like me, holding some of the best jobs this dusty burg has to offer, just three years ago, my friend Mike takes off for Northern California for " better money."
     I know how he feels. I did it 20 years ago, and mentioned it before in this missive. I'm not that stubborn, and catch on quicker.My next door neighbor just learned it six months ago, trying to sell insurance. He bought the house, spent months refurbishing it, inside and out for his wife and two new children. The economy tanked here in Tucson, the 6th poorest town in America, and he had to RENT that home (couldn't sell it) and move to Albuquerque.)
      Mike discovered late, that trying to make a living in "the old Pueblo" is fruitless. Making a living=making a decent salary.
     The late lamented evening paper Tucson Citizen had been around since before the days of Wyatt Earp. One of the best writers was Larry Cheek, now gone. He once wrote that living here was to " work like a dog" for literally nothing and write great observations on this town's split cultural personality.
     He was write, my joke. He would have appreciated. Years ago, a black Reverend left in disgust and depleted energy headed for Riverside California commenting as he split,
"living here is to suck the life out of you." Right again. A book length blog to explain.
     Mike, ensconced in California, still glowing in the goey delight of Governor Deficit, like the Governor of Oregon to his north, hasn't seen a tax he couldn't pass up. Social Services for the poor and needy? Sure, apply surely there will be funds available somewhere.
     Roads, bridges, postal clerks, police - cut them. Teachers are bailing out windows, unions are getting so strident, their " time-out" rooms are getting as used as delinquent students.
     Mike, forever the bull-head, says, sure, it's expensive over here. Rent is twice Tucson's, but salaries are four times what I made there. (So are taxes, gas, aggravation, tempers, restrictive (stupid non-sensible gun laws) idiot state legislatures, environmentalists, etc. And, there is always, - " The San Andreas Fault."
     The attrition west bound, according to the statisticians is almost one way - out of California. Mike, unfortunately is swimming upstream. I collided with a lady FedEx driver in the lobby of an Ad agency two days ago and we had a pleasant but brief talk.
     Seems she had a masters degree in marketing from UCLA, and worked in Frisco for ten years. Ok, you know the questions I asked. She liked the easy going lifestyle in Tucson, done with the hustle and hassle of San Fran. She is 32. Go Figure
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Colorado - I am a sad and confused American

When I left Evergreen, my wife had died I though my heart would break in a thousand pieces, and the idea of heaven on earth would vanish. Living inside a Currier and Ives print with my princess would stay inside of me for the rest of my life.
    High up in the Rockys, commuting down each day into Denver, living up in the mountains ten thousand feet over the city with my dream girl - it would never, ever get any better. She died, I crumbled, and left. I went to Portland, and the rest is history, and my time in Denver locked away forever.
    Now, I hear Denver and the state have gone to " the dogs." The bull$%## you feed yourselves about gambling by calling it ' GAMING ' is crap and you know it. It is NOT fun, entertainment, or exciting - it's betting. It's losing your money, and hell, those people are getting rich off it. As an assistant Casino Manager once told me, a new casino moving into town is " like giving the community a gift of cancer."
    And hey, now, you add drugs - Marijuana. Not only do you gamble your money away, you can get stoned while you do it. CNN's Dr. Sanjay Gupta is doing a special report on the effects of the stuff on your judgement. Don't think it does much on your judgement? Watch the special, then go on and such that stuff up.
    And now, thanks to the bone headed legislators ( ' ready-fire-shoot') the gun CONTROL legislature now has passed a bunch of stupid laws binding YOUR hands in case you need to defend YOUR home and heart.
    The bad guys at the local Circle K? Frisk them some time if you get the chance, doubt that they're carrying any legal gun permits, tho. What's her name? Rep. Degette? Had all the answers on new legislation, come to find out she didn't even know that an ammo clip for a rifle was NOT A BULLET. She learned in an on-air interview that an ammo clip holds bullets.
     Pushed legislation through without knowing what she was doing. Nice. You elected her.
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15th Air Force - B-17s Air Missions out of Italy WW II

Joseph Heller, a much vaunted author of "Catch 22" wrote the sometimes critcized anti-war novel mentioned back 30 or so years ago during the Vietnam days. It was the story of bomber squadrons of the 15th USAAF stationed in Italy with missions flying into German targets in Europe and I believe Ploesti oilfields.
     The latter was the most significant as Ploesti was the life blood of the Nazi war machine. Choke off the German oil, you kill their tanks, motorcycles and jeeps. The 15th had that job, and with a horrendous casualty rate, they did it.
      Each mission cost them roughly 20% of their squadron (x 10 men per B-17). So, they figured, after 5 missions, you were 100% dead, as the story goes.
      The Catch-22 movie was a nut-ball of a story, drew crazy reviews had crew members hiding in palm trees, dumping bombs in the ocean, shooting up fishing boats, generals issuing orders while sittijng on toilets, flying officers in formation, naked, crazy stuff, start to finish.
       While I was a docent at a local B-17 Museum here in Tucson, I had the pleasure of interviewing a pilot fro the 15th Air Force who wondered into the museum. Much to the consternation of the Director of our Museum, I spent a lot of time with visitors and sucked as much out this guy as I could. He came in his old flight jacked and 50 mission crush cap.
        The Gist of it was, " everything I saw in Catch 22, was true, " he told me. " I was there, I lived it, I saw it. We were drunk half the time. We had no idea who would be killed, who would survive, it's a wonder any of us got back."
       And, he had the black and white pictures to prove it.
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Bank of America - Customer Service (???)

Did you know that Bank of America has over 15 pages web page explaining variations of "FEES" they charge for checking and savings accounts?...15 pages of FEES, and they are all different!!

Did you know that if you want a check IMAGE on your own "paperless" account, they charge you $3.00 for each one?

Did you know if you call their 800 #, you will be put on "terminal hold " forever?

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A Message to Australia on American Violence

The United States is 3rd in murders throughout the world!!

BUT, subtract New Orleans, Chicago, Detroit and Washington, DC - the United States  drops to the 4th from the BOTTOM for murders!!

Those four cities have the TOUGHEST GUN CONTROL laws in our country.

So, absent of that fact, you gotta ask yourself, what else do those four cities have in common? Hmm?

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My Daughters Michelle & Laura & Time Flies

When I was attempting to raise two daughters at 43 years of age (30 years ago), holding down a position which timed out as the worst I'd ever had (alligators in my office every morning), crazed wife on a Moped cruising over the desert hills singing, "I will survive," and me juggling a lousy salary and the presidency on the local school board....I lost an election within the household.
    Wife and two kids elected that they would go to "private school" run by ex-anti-war nuns and I was drafted to come up with the scratch to float it.
    Meanwhile my oldest needed a chauffeur on the weekends, wife wanted her "independence" and the youngest went Mustang. Brewing in my gut was an ulcer that would take me down in the 21st century.
    I was 43. My daughters were young - knew everything. One predicted a Supreme Court Slot, did so in the local newspapers. The other tried running away from home-on a horse. Later, changed her name to one.
    Today, 30 years later, I'm 73, and those two daughters have reached the exact same age I WAS THEN, when I was raisin them, going through all that bullshit, married with two kids at home, crisis du jour, bills, bulls, private school tuition, car payments, ulcer city at work.
    And they? One moved to Chicago and married a socialist, the other - well, the other is struggling.
    Some day, if they ever read this, I hope they understand that as of this day, they walk the earth in the same skin I did - right now, only without the burdens I carried, trying to do my job and balance their needs while feeding them love, support, caring and concern - as I still do, as their father.
    Walk in my shoes, today, as I did 30 years ago. I have not heard from the oldest for a quarter of a century.
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