newspapermen

2

During his trial, Ted Bundy was known to radiant confidence when handling the defence even though HE was the defendant. He was was also obsessed with the way he was being portrayed within the media at the time.

“What’s on television in Seattle?” he asked. “Are they covering me very much back there?”  “Quite a bit. I watched you in Tallahassee when you introduced yourself to the prospective jurors there. You seemed very confident.”

He was pleased.

I have no way of knowing if Ted truly felt the confidence which he projected, but going into his Miami trial, he seemed to believe that he could and would win. After an hour’s conversation, conversation which he told me was being monitored by Dade County jailers, we hung up, promising to meet again, this time in Miami. To newspapermen, Ted declined to predict the trial outcome. “If I was a football coach, I’d say when you’re in your first game of the season, you don’t start looking for the Super Bowl.”

Source- The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

5

CLOSE-UPS OF RUSSIA BY COLLEGE EDITORS

THREE young Americans flew home last week from a rare trip to Russia. Hearing about the Moscow visit of US small-town newspapermen (TIME, April 13), College Editors Daniel Berger, 21 (Oberlin), Mark Emond, 25 (University of Colorado), and Zander Hollander, 22 (University of Michigan), applied for visas, were promptly accepted. Paying their own way, they got a two-week, $19-a-day Intourist tour, moved freely around Moscow, Kiev, Leningrad, were allowed to snap pictures of everything except factories. military installations and national shrines. They found only one trace of recently purged Politburocrat Lavrenty Beria, a mosaic portrait on the ceiling of Moscow’s ornate subway. Other impressions: TV screens are tiny but programs excellent, youth papers have luxurious offices but sound “as if written by the Dean,” students are friendly but primed to criticize the U.S., girls are “sweet, naive and not sexy,“ children–often seen with nurses in parks–are well cared for. Said Editor Berger: “The best-dressed Russians are under ten years old.”

– TIME, 19 October 1953, 34-35

(picture credit)

“I’ve got a feeling we’ll be the story of the century." 
A William/Otto/Sacharissa story told in popular music from 1920-1955.

Earl Robinson and Vern Partlow - Newspapermen Meet Such Interesting People  

Debbie Reynolds, Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor - Good Morning

Bing Crosby and Trudy Erwin - People Will Say We’re In Love

Frankie Carle and his Orchestra - Rumors Are Flying

Johnny McKeever - Would You 

Ruth Etting - Guilty

Fats Waller - It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie 

Billie Holiday - What A Little Moonlight Can Do

Johnny Marvin - I Can’t Believe That You’re In Love With Me

Frances Day - I’ve Got You Under My Skin

The Colonial Club Orchestra - You’re The Cream In My Coffee

8tracks / playmoss

10

Sterek Week // Friday: Sterek AU - Newsies (1992)

Newsies is based on the true story of Newsboys Strike of 1899 in New York City. Thousands of homeless and orphaned children are living in Newsboys lodging houses, including 17-year old Manhattan newsboy Derek Hale, who is a regular newsboy selling newspapers for Joseph Pulitzer and his paper, the New York World. Jack meets Stiles Stilinski, who leaves school temporarily and joins the Newsies to help out while his father is out of work with a broken arm. Derek decides to team up with Stiles to sell papers. After they witness a violent part of the trolley strike, Stiles invites Derek back to his house to meet his father. After declining to spend the night, Jack confesses his desire to escape to Santa Fe. Shortly afterward, the price of newspapers for purchase by the newsboys is raised one-tenth of a cent, decided by joint decision of Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst.

Feeling they will be unable to bear the added cost, Derek organizes a strike with the aid of Stiles. Derek struggles with his past as he forms an important friendship with Stiles. Between his dream of one day going to Santa Fe and currently wanting to help his friends, he faces many difficult decisions involving money and loyalty. Along the way, the boys are aided by newspaper reporter Bryan Denton, as well as being hindered by Snyder, warden of “The Refuge” juvenile detention facility. Derek and the Newsies gain the cooperation of rival newsboy groups from New York and Brooklyn to team up and strike against the big-shot newspapermen. They eventually win their hard-fought demands after self-publishing and distributing a sympathetic newspaper flier and gaining the support of other non-union child workers around the city. Denton tells Derek that Governor Theodore Roosevelt, who was grateful Derek brought the strike to his attention, is offering to give him a ride anywhere, and Derek requests to be taken to the train station to catch a train to Santa Fe. His friends are disappointed to see him leave, but Roosevelt gives Derek advice, convincing him to change his mind. Derek returns to the Newsies and Stiles, knowing this is where is family - and heart - truly lies.

Saturday, September 2, 1967

  • President Johnson called an impromptu news conference in Washington to defend his Administration’s policy of controlled bombing of North Vietnamese targets and used the occasion to issue a strong denial that there was any serious rift between his military and civilian advisers on the conduct of the war. In an attack on Washington reporters, Mr. Johnson said that the differences between Secretary of Defense McNamara and the Joint Chiefs of Staff have been blown out of proportion by newspapermen looking for sensational news stories.
  • Over at the Senate, the majority leader, Mike Mansfield, said that the President was giving his full support to a campaign to have the United Nations Security Council take up the question of the continuing war in Vietnam. 
  • In South Vietnam, terrorism by Vietcong guerrillas increased as the presidential election campaign entered its final days. Several United States and South Vietnamese military outposts were attacked by mortar barrages, and a provincial capital in the Mekong Delta was also bombarded by enemy mortars.
  • After two days of delay, the United Automobile Workers named Ford as the company that would be struck next Wednesday if no contract agreement was reached.
  • Milwaukee policemen fired repeatedly with tear gas guns to disperse civil rights marchers who hurled rocks and bottles at them. The violence erupted minutes after the second arrest this week of the Rev. James E. Groppi.

Nikola Tesla is 79 years old, and he is one of the true geniuses of this time. Nevertheless, twenty-odd newspapermen came away from his Hotel New Yorker birthday party yesterday, which lasted six hours, feeling hesitantly that something was wrong either with the old man’s mind or else with their own, for Dr. Tesla, serene in an old-fashioned Prince Albert and courtly in a way that seems to have gone out of this world, announced that:

1. He had discovered the so-called cosmic ray in 1896, at least five years before any other scientist took it up and twenty years before it became popular among scientists, and he is now convinced that many of the cosmic particles travel fifty times faster than light, some of them 500 times faster.

2. He has found a way to produce a direct electric current by induction and without the use of a commutator, which is something the experts in electricity have considered impossible for the past hundred years.

3. He has invented an “absolutely impossible” machine which will impart vibrations to the earth which, with proper receiving apparatus can be picked up anywhere on the earth’s surface, and that this mysterious machine will allow scientists to explore the deep interior of the earth, will enable practical geologists to discover gold, coal and petroleum, and at the same time will give ships the means of navigating without compass or sextant.

Dr. Tesla has 600 to 700 patents to his name. He invented the rotary field motor, and is admittedly the seer and father of all modern electrical development. As has been his custom for five years now, he arranged his own birthday party, drank only hot milk as his part of the celebration, and made his announcements with the superb certainty of a man who knew what he was talking about, even if none of his guests did.

He said, among other things, that he expects to have $100,000,000 within two years, and he revealed that an earthquake which drew police and ambulances to the region of his laboratory at 48 E. Houston St. in 1887 or 1888 was the result of a little machine he was experimenting with at that time which “you could put in your overcoat pocket.”

The bewildered newspapermen pounced upon this as at least one thing they could understand and “the father of modern electricity” told what had happened as follows:

“I was experimenting with vibrations. I had one of my machines going and I wanted to see if I could get it in tune with the vibration of the building. I put it up notch after notch. There was a peculiar cracking sound.

“I asked my assistants where did the sound come from. They did not know. I put the machine up a few more notches. There was a louder cracking sound. I knew I was approaching the vibration of the steel building. I pushed the machine a little higher.

“Suddenly all the heavy machinery in the place was flying around. I grabbed a hammer and broke the machine. The building would have been down about our ears in another few minutes. Outside in the street there was pandemonium. The police and ambulances arrived. I told my assistants to say nothing. We told the police it must have been an earthquake. That’s all they ever knew about it.”

Some shrewd reporter asked Dr. Tesla at this point what he would need to destroy the Empire State Building and the doctor replied: - “Five pounds of air pressure. If I attached the proper oscillating machine on a girder that is all the force I would need, five pounds. Vibration will do anything. It would only be necessary to step up the vibrations of the machine to fit the natural vibration of the building and the building would come crashing down. That’s why soldiers always break step crossing a bridge.”

His early experiments in vibration, he explained, led to his invention of his “Earth vibrating machine. Tall and thin and ascetic face, his eyes sunken but …. humorous under protruding brows, he was cagey about describing what his new machine is, although he believes it will be "the chief thing of my many inventions posterity will thank me for.”

— 

Earl Sparling

“Nikola Tesla, At 79, Uses Earth To Transmit Signals.” New York World Telegram, July 11, 1935.

Full transcript of Marilyn Monroe’s last interview

Sometimes wearing a scarf and a polo coat and no makeup and with a certain attitude of walking, I go shopping or just look at people living. But then you know, there will be a few teenagers who are kind of sharp and they’ll say, “Hey, just a minute. You know who I think that is?” And they’ll start tailing me. And I don’t mind. I realise some people want to see if you’re real. The teenagers, the little kids, their faces light up. They say, “Gee,” and they can’t wait to tell their friends. And old people come up and say, “Wait till I tell my wife.” You’ve changed their whole day. In the morning, the garbage men that go by 57th Street when I come out the door say, “Marilyn, hi! How do you feel this morning?” To me, it’s an honour, and I love them for it. The working men, I’ll go by and they’ll whistle. At first they whistle because they think, oh, it’s a girl. She’s got blond hair and she’s not out of shape, and then they say, “Gosh, it’s Marilyn Monroe!” And that has its … you know, those are times it’s nice. People knowing who you are and all of that, and feeling that you’ve meant something to them.

I don’t know quite why, but somehow I feel they know that I mean what I do, both when I’m acting on the screen or when if I see them in person and greet them. That I really always do mean hello, and how are you? In their fantasies they feel “Gee, it can happen to me!” But when you’re famous you kind of run into human nature in a raw kind of way. It stirs up envy, fame does. People you run into feel that, well, who is she who does she think she is, Marilyn Monroe? They feel fame gives them some kind of privilege to walk up to you and say anything to you, you know, of any kind of nature and it won’t hurt your feelings. Like it’s happening to your clothing. 

One time here I was looking for a home to buy and I stopped at this place. A man came out and was very pleasant and cheerful, and said, “Oh, just a moment, I want my wife to meet you.” Well, she came out and said, “Will you please get off the premises?” You’re always running into people’s unconscious. Let’s take some actors or directors. Usually they don’t say it to me, they say it to the newspapers because that’s a bigger play. You know, if they’re only insulting me to my face that doesn’t make a big enough play because all I have to say is, “See you around, like never.” But if it’s in the newspapers, it’s coast-to-coast and all around the world.

I don’t understand why people aren’t a little more generous with each other. I don’t like to say this, but I’m afraid there is a lot of envy in this business. The only thing I can do is stop and think, “I’m all right but I’m not so sure about them!” For instance, you’ve read there was some actor that once said that kissing me was like kissing Hitler. Well, I think that’s his problem. If I have to do intimate love scenes with somebody who really has these kinds of feelings toward me, then my fantasy can come into play. In other words, out with him, in with my fantasy. He was never there.

 It’s nice to be included in people’s fantasies but you also like to be accepted for your own sake. I don’t look at myself as a commodity, but I’m sure a lot of people have. Including, well, one corporation in particular, which shall be nameless. If I’m sounding picked on or something, I think I am. I’ll think I have a few wonderful friends and all of a sudden, ooh, here it comes. They do a lot of things. They talk about you to the press, to their friends, tell stories, and you know, it’s disappointing. These are the ones you aren’t interested in seeing every day of your life. Of course, it does depend on the people, but sometimes I’m invited places to kind of brighten up a dinner table like a musician who’ll play the piano after dinner, and I know you’re not really invited for yourself. You’re just an ornament.

When I was five I think, that’s when I started wanting to be an actress. I loved to play. I didn’t like the world around me because it was kind of grim, but I loved to play house. It was like you could make your own boundaries. It goes beyond house; you could make your own situations and you could pretend, and even if the other kids were a little slow on the imagining part, you could say, “Hey, what about if you were such and such, and I were such and such, wouldn’t that be fun?” And they’d say, “Oh, yes,” and then I’d say, “Well, that will be a horse and this will be …” It was play, playfulness. When I heard that this was acting, I said that’s what I want to be. You can play. But then you grow up and find out about playing, that they make playing very difficult for you.

Some of my foster families used to send me to the movies to get me out of the house and there I’d sit all day and way into the night. Up in front, there with the screen so big, a little kid all alone, and I loved it. I loved anything that moved up there and I didn’t miss anything that happened and there was no popcorn either. When I was 11, the whole world was closed to me. I just felt I was on the outside of the world. Suddenly, everything opened up. Even the girls paid a little attention to me because they thought, “Hmmm, she’s to be dealt with!” And I had this long walk to school, two and a half miles [there], two and a half miles back. It was just sheer pleasure. Every fellow honked his horn, you know, workers driving to work, waving, you know, and I’d wave back. The world became friendly.

All the newspaper boys when they delivered the paper would come around to where I lived, and I used to hang from the limb of a tree, and I had sort of a sweatshirt on. I didn’t realise the value of a sweatshirt in those days, and then I was sort of beginning to catch on, but I didn’t quite get it, because I couldn’t really afford sweaters. But here they come with their bicycles, you know, and I’d get these free papers and the family liked that, and they’d all pull their bicycles up around the tree and then I’d be hanging, looking kind of like a monkey, I guess. I was a little shy to come down. I did get down to the curb, kinda kicking the curb and kicking the leaves and talking, but mostly listening.

And sometimes the family used to worry because I used to laugh so loud and so gay; I guess they felt it was hysterical. It was just this sudden freedom because I would ask the boys, “Can I ride your bike now?” and they’d say, “Sure.” Then I’d go zooming, laughing in the wind, riding down the block, laughing, and they’d all stand around and wait till I came back. But I loved the wind. It caressed me. But it was kind of a double-edged thing. I did find, too, when the world opened up that people took a lot for granted, like not only could they be friendly, but they could suddenly get overly friendly and expect an awful lot for very little. When I was older, I used to go to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and try to fit my foot in the prints in the cement there. And I’d say, “Oh, oh, my foot’s too big! I guess that’s out.” I did have a funny feeling later when I finally put my foot down into that wet cement. I sure knew what it really meant to me. Anything’s possible, almost.

It was the creative part that kept me going, trying to be an actress. I enjoy acting when you really hit it right. And I guess I’ve always had too much fantasy to be only a housewife. Well, also, I had to eat. I was never kept, to be blunt about it; I always kept myself. I have always had a pride in the fact that I was my own. And Los Angeles was my home, too, so when they said, “Go home!” I said, “I am home.” The time I sort of began to think I was famous, I was driving somebody to the airport, and as I came back there was this movie house and I saw my name in lights. I pulled the car up at a distance down the street; it was too much to take up close, you know, all of a sudden. And I said, “God, somebody’s made a mistake.” But there it was, in lights. And I sat there and said, “So that’s the way it looks,” and it was all very strange to me, and yet at the studio they had said, “Remember, you’re not a star.” Yet there it is up in lights.

 I really got the idea I must be a star or something from the newspapermen; I’m saying men, not the women who would interview me and they would be warm and friendly. By the way, that part of the press, you know, the men of the press, unless they have their own personal quirks against me, they were always very warm and friendly and they’d say, “You know, you’re the only star,” and I’d say, “Star?” and they’d look at me as if I were nuts. I think they, in their own kind of way, made me realise I was famous.I remember when I got the part in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Jane Russell - she was the brunette in it and I was the blonde. She got $200,000 for it, and I got my $500 a week, but that to me was, you know, considerable. She, by the way, was quite wonderful to me. The only thing was I couldn’t get a dressing room. Finally, I really got to this kind of level and I said, “Look, after all, I am the blonde, and it is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes!” Because still they always kept saying, “Remember, you’re not a star.” I said, “Well, whatever I am, I am the blonde!” And I want to say to the people, if I am a star, the people made me a star. No studio, no person, but the people did.

There was a reaction that came to the studio, the fan mail, or when I went to a premiere, or the exhibitors wanted to meet me. I didn’t know why. When they all rushed toward me I looked behind me to see who was there and I said, “My heavens!” I was scared to death. I used to get the feeling, and sometimes I still get it, that sometimes I was fooling somebody; I don’t know who or what, maybe myself. I’ve always felt toward the slightest scene, even if all I had to do in a scene was just to come in and say, “Hi,” that the people ought to get their money’s worth and that this is an obligation of mine, to give them the best you can get from me. I do have feelings some days when there are scenes with a lot of responsibility toward the meaning, and I’ll wish, “Gee, if only I had been a cleaning woman.” On the way to the studio I would see somebody cleaning and I’d say, “That’s what I’d like to be. That’s my ambition in life.” But I think that all actors go through this.

We not only want to be good, we have to be. You know, when they talk about nervousness, my teacher, Lee Strasberg, when I said to him, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’m a little nervous,” he said, “When you’re not, give up, because nervousness indicates sensitivity.” Also, a struggle with shyness is in every actor more than anyone can imagine. There is a censor inside us that says to what degree do we let go, like a child playing. I guess people think we just go out there, and you know, that’s all we do. Just do it. But it’s a real struggle. I’m one of the world’s most self-conscious people. I really have to struggle.

An actor is not a machine, no matter how much they want to say you are. Creativity has got to start with humanity and when you’re a human being, you feel, you suffer. You’re gay, you’re sick, you’re nervous or whatever. Like any creative human being, I would like a bit more control so that it would be a little easier for me when the director says, “One tear, right now,” that one tear would pop out. But once there came two tears because I thought, “How dare he?” Goethe said, “Talent is developed in privacy,” you know? And it’s really true. There is a need for aloneness, which I don’t think most people realise for an actor.

It’s almost having certain kinds of secrets for yourself that you’ll let the whole world in on only for a moment, when you’re acting. But everybody is always tugging at you. They’d all like sort of a chunk of you.I think that when you are famous every weakness is exaggerated. This industry should behave like a mother whose child has just run out in front of a car. But instead of clasping the child to them, they start punishing the child. Like you don’t dare get a cold. How dare you get a cold! I mean, the executives can get colds and stay home forever and phone it in, but how dare you, the actor, get a cold or a virus. You know, no one feels worse than the one who’s sick. I sometimes wish, gee, I wish they had to act a comedy with a temperature and a virus infection.

I am not an actress who appears at a studio just for the purpose of discipline. This doesn’t have anything at all to do with art. I myself would like to become more disciplined within my work. But I’m there to give a performance and not to be disciplined by a studio! After all, I’m not in a military school. This is supposed to be an art form, not just a manufacturing establishment. The sensitivity that helps me to act, you see, also makes me react. An actor is supposed to be a sensitive instrument. Isaac Stern takes good care of his violin. What if everybody jumped on his violin?

You know a lot of people have, oh gee, real quirky problems that they wouldn’t dare have anyone know. But one of my problems happens to show: I’m late. I guess people think that why I’m late is some kind of arrogance and I think it is the opposite of arrogance. I also feel that I’m not in this big American rush, you know, you got to go and you got to go fast but for no good reason. The main thing is, I want to be prepared when I get there to give a good performance or whatever to the best of my ability. A lot of people can be there on time and do nothing, which I have seen them do, and you know, all sit around sort of chit chatting and talking trivia about their social life. Gable said about me, “When she’s there, she’s there. All of her is there! She’s there to work.”

I was honoured when they asked me to appear at the president’s birthday rally in Madison Square Garden. There was like a hush over the whole place when I came on to sing Happy Birthday, like if I had been wearing a slip, I would have thought it was showing or something. I thought, “Oh, my gosh, what if no sound comes out!"A hush like that from the people warms me. It’s sort of like an embrace. Then you think, by God, I’ll sing this song if it’s the last thing I ever do, and for all the people. Because I remember when I turned to the microphone, I looked all the way up and back, and I thought, "That’s where I’d be, way up there under one of those rafters, close to the ceiling, after I paid my two dollars to come into the place.” Afterwards they had some sort of reception. I was with my former father-in-law, Isadore Miller, so I think I did something wrong when I met the president. Instead of saying, “How do you do?” I just said “This is my former father-in-law, Isadore Miller.” He came here an immigrant and I thought this would be one of the biggest things in his life. He’s about 75 or 80 years old and I thought this would be something that he would be telling his grandchildren about and all that. I should have said, “How do you do, Mr President,” but I had already done the singing, so well you know. I guess nobody noticed it.

Fame has a special burden, which I might as well state here and now. I don’t mind being burdened with being glamorous and sexual. But what goes with it can be a burden. I feel that beauty and femininity are ageless and can’t be contrived, and glamour, although the manufacturers won’t like this, cannot be manufactured. Not real glamour; it’s based on femininity. I think that sexuality is only attractive when it’s natural and spontaneous. This is where a lot of them miss the boat. And then something I’d just like to spout off on. We are all born sexual creatures, thank God, but it’s a pity so many people despise and crush this natural gift. Art, real art, comes from it, everything. I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That’s the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing. But if I’m going to be a symbol of something I’d rather have it sex than some other things they’ve got symbols of!

These girls who try to be me, I guess the studios put them up to it, or they get the ideas themselves. But gee, they haven’t got it. You can make a lot of gags about it like they haven’t got the foreground or else they haven’t the background. But I mean the middle, where you live. All my stepchildren carried the burden of my fame. Sometimes they would read terrible things about me and I’d worry about whether it would hurt them. I would tell them: don’t hide these things from me. I’d rather you ask me these things straight out and I’ll answer all your questions.I wanted them to know of life other than their own. I used to tell them, for instance, that I worked for five cents a month and I washed one hundred dishes, and my stepkids would say, “One hundred dishes!” and I said, “Not only that, I scraped and cleaned them before I washed them.” I washed them and rinsed them and put them in the draining place, but I said, “Thank God I didn’t have to dry them.”

I was never used to being happy, so that wasn’t something I ever took for granted. You see, I was brought up differently from the average American child because the average child is brought up expecting to be happy. That’s it: successful, happy, and on time. Yet because of fame I was able to meet and marry two of the nicest men I’d ever met up to that time. I don’t think people will turn against me, at least not by themselves. I like people. The “public” scares me, but people I trust. Maybe they can be impressed by the press or when a studio starts sending out all kinds of stories. But I think when people go to see a movie, they judge for themselves. We human beings are strange creatures and still reserve the right to think for ourselves. Once I was supposed to be finished, that was the end of me.

When Mr Miller was on trial for contempt of congress, a certain corporation executive said either he named names and I got him to name names, or I was finished. I said, “I’m proud of my husband’s position and I stand behind him all the way,” and the court did too. “Finished,” they said. “You’ll never be heard of."It might be a kind of relief to be finished. You have to start all over again. But I believe you’re always as good as your potential. I now live in my work and in a few relationships with the few people I can really count on. Fame will go by, and, so long, I’ve had you fame. If it goes by, I’ve always known it was fickle. So at least it’s something I experienced, but that’s not where I live.

The truth is much weirder. Sure, there are famous public gatherings of wealthy types like the Bilderberg Group, but they mostly shoot the shit over drinks and big dinners instead of sacrificing goats in the name of the Illuminati. What we’re talking about are the Bohemian Grove gatherings, in which members – which have included U.S. presidents – gather to perform rituals before a 30-foot-tall idol shaped like an owl. We’re absolutely not making this up. You can go visit the site if you want.

Founded in 1872, the Bohemian Grove club started out as a social occasion for relatively harmless newspapermen and artists, like Mark Twain. However, many of their members were ambitious, and grew mighty. The club’s gatherings went on, their power increased, and by the 1930s, Bohemian Grove had become an exclusive haunt of the rich and famous. By the 1980s, the club had 2,300 members, including influential senators, businessmen, and highly-placed U.S. government officials. Its waiting list for membership was 33 years long.

While business-making is discouraged – the club straight-up tells its members that “Weaving Spiders Come Not Here” – it happens all the time, because of course it does. Some of the most influential deals in history have been made in Bohemian Grove encampments. Such as, oh, the initial planning for the Manhattan Project. Yeah, you have the 1942 Bohemian Grove meeting to thank for the freaking nuclear bomb.

5 Eerie Conspiracies Theorists Were Right About All Along

anonymous asked:

Nooo I was refreshing your tumble to see if there was any more icu fic, started reading your lilo and now I'm hooked on that too! Any chance of a teeny bit more icu fic?

WELL. In honour of the fact that a) this was supposed to be finished in June and I got sidetracked by NYFBM, and b) that I hit 30k on this today, have some more ICU fic. 

Continued from here:

Keep reading

2

Screen caps from a digital copy of KRLA’s The BEAT, 29 July 1967.

“BEAT EXCLUSIVE

George: A Different Face, New Life

By Rochelle Reed

He’s a member of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band respendent in an orange braided uniform and flowing hair, with a mustache that somehow grows across his upper lip and drops down on his cheeks to form a beard.

It’s been a long time since the days of a silent, sulking George, least obvious of all the Beatles, on the stage of Ed Sullivan.

He’s a new George, a different George. A George who no longer spends his free moments ‘polishing his bottle green Ferrarri’ as John once put it, but instead packs himself and his wife off to Bombay for six weeks to don Indian garb and master the sitar.

Keep reading