Jeff Buckley

It was November, 1994 and I was feeling under the weather.  I ventured to Luna Park in West Hollywood to see my old college friend Jason Luckett play a set of music.  I didn't want to be there.  My throat was sore and my head was pounding.  After Jason's gig, I paid my respects and prepared to return home to bed.  Jason's words changed my life.  "You might want to stay and see this next performer. He's pretty interesting."

So I stayed.  I watched as a skinny guy with a passing resemblance to James Dean stepped on stage.  He had dirty brown hair and he wore a full-length feather overcoat like something you'd find at an old lady's garage sale.  He plugged his electric guitar into an amp with a "Kiss" sticker across the back. The surrounding crowd was oblivious...loud, rude, immersed in their cocktails and movie industry blathering.

The performer began tuning his guitar and testing the microphone with high-pitched squeals and sighs.  Then something amazing happened.  The singer's atonal sounds morphed into a soft falsetto backed by the slow build of a dreamy guitar riff.  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the crowd became silent and turned toward stage.  They had no choice.  They were magnetized, lifted, pulled toward this compelling force.

Then came the opening lyrics sung with the voice of an angel: "I'm lying in my bed, the blanket is warm, this body will never be safe from harm."  The next hour passed like a blur.  The music blended Jimmy Paige inspired electric guitar with soft soulful ballads reminiscent of Marvin Gaye.  Between songs, the performer cracked jokes about his days of starvation living in Hollywood and how there was a period in the music industry when "Paul Williams was God."

My headache vanished.  My throat seemed to clear.  By the time the set ended with a majestic cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah," I felt transformed.  I sat in silence, my skin covered with goose bumps.  Women crowded the state to get closer to the performer.  Men simply stared, trying to process what they just experienced.

Jeff Buckley was a musical virtuoso.  He wielded his Fender Stratocaster guitar like a gunfighter brandishing a pistol.  His music was an amalgam of his favorite performers: Elizabeth Fraser of the Cocteau Twins, Pakistani legend Nusrat Fateh Ali Kahn, Freddie Mercury, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd.  He covered performers as varied as Edith Piaf, Jimi Hendrix and Nina Simone.

Buckley was born into music.  His father, whom he met only once, was Tim Buckley, the revered 60's folk musician who died of a drug overdose at age 28.  His mother, Mary Guibert, was a classically trained pianist and cellist.  He was born in Southern California and began playing guitar at age five.  He played in his high school jazz band and developed an early affinity for the progressive rock sounds of Genesis, Yes and Rush.  He studied music at the Musicians Institute in Hollywood then moved to New York City in 1990.  He toured with several struggling bands and experimented on his own with jazz, blues, punk rock, funk and R&B.

In April, 1991, Buckley made his public singing debut at a tribute concert for his father called "Greetings From Tim Buckley."  He performed four of his father's songs including "I Never Asked To Be Your Mountain," a song Tim Buckley wrote about infant Jeff and his mother.  The performance made a strong impression and became a springboard for Jeff's career.

Buckley began building a following at small clubs throughout Lower Manhattan.  He gained a regular Monday spot at an Irish cafe in the East Village called Sin-E.  Slowly, his reputation spread.  Crowds became larger and record company executives took notice.  In 1992, Buckley signed a deal with Columbia Records.  Two years later, he release his first album Grace.  In 1996, the album went Gold.

Buckley's shows attracted fans such as Chrissie Hynde, Chris Cornell, Lou Reed and The Edge.  Bob Dylan called Buckley "one of the great songwriters of the decade."  David Bowie said Grace was an album he'd take with him to a desert island.  Rolling Stone called Buckley's rendition of "Hallelujah" one of "the 500 greatest songs of all time."

Buckley toured the world, preferring intimate clubs to large venues.  He disliked self-promotion and bristled when people referred to him as "Tim Buckley's son."  In 1996, he began writing songs for his second studio album My Sweetheart The Drunk.

Buckley chose to record the album in Memphis, Tennessee.  On the night of May 29, 1997, his band flew to Memphis to join him.  That same night, Buckley jumped in to Wolf River Harbor, a water channel of the Mississippi River.  He was fully clothed, including his boots, and he was singing Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" at the top of his lungs.  A river tugboat passed creating a wake that pulled Buckley beneath the water.  A roadie in the band, Keith Foti, was standing on shore.  He realized Buckley had vanished.  A search and rescue effort was launched.  Buckley remained missing for several days.  His body was finally found down river on June 4.  An autopsy showed no signs of drugs or alcohol in his system.  His death was ruled an "accidental drowning."

Fans around the world united in grief.  Several musicians wrote tribute songs. These included "Teardrop" by Elizabeth Fraser, "Memphis" by PJ Harvey, "Grey Ghost" by Mike Doughty and "Memphis Skyline" by Rufus Wainwright. Columbia Records released the demo recordings for My Sweetheart The Drunk.  They followed this up with several live recordings.  Buckley had been poised for super stardom.  His legacy grew after his passing.

I was blessed to see Jeff perform twice in Los Angeles.  My wife and I fell in love listening to his music.  On the day we learned he was missing, we walked around in a stupor as if we had lost a family member.  Seventeen years later, it's still hard to believe he's gone.  Jeff Buckley was a comet blazing across our musical skies, burning out far too soon.  He will always be missed.  (4" x 6", black ink print)

The Screenwriter

A few years ago, Joe Forte was writing a script for a Harrison Ford action film that called for a crucial kidnapping scene. Yearning for authenticity, Joe hired an ex-Israeli Mossad agent/story consultant to kidnap him at some unforeseen time and space. (This is true.) Two weeks later, Joe was exiting a Big 5 Sporting Goods store with his wife when two men came out of nowhere, put a hood over Joe's head and thrust him into the trunk of a black Mercedes and sped away. Joe had neglected to tell his wife about the kidnapping ruse so she obviously became hysterical. She called the police who told her to wait at home for a ransom request. Joe meanwhile was taken to an empty warehouse and tied to a chair before his hood was removed (even Israeli story consultants resort to cliches). For the next hour, the two Israeli "bit players" screamed profanities at Joe and threatened to waterboard him. Realizing his wife must be frantic, Joe begged the men to let him call home and tell her he was okay. The Israelis refused then insulted Joe for his cowardice. After two hours, the men loosened Joe's ropes and left. Joe squirmed free and exited the warehouse. He found himself in North Hollywood, just two miles from the Big 5. He called a friend to drive him home then spent the rest of the weekend apologizing to his wife. Only in Hollywood. (4" x 6", black ink print)

Aleph

In Jewish Mystical Teaching, the 22 letters of the Hebrew Alphabet are the energetic building blocks of creation. Like the periodic table of elements, God formed all things in the universe through combinations of Hebrew letters (just as atoms of oxygen and hydrogen combine to form a molecule of water). Hebrew letters each have a meaning and a numerical value. Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew Alphabet. It symbolizes that "God is One" and that He is the Master. It is a silent letter and is not spoken just as the name of the Lord cannot be spoken. Aleph stands for Adam (the first man), for Abraham (who recognized there is only One God) and for Abba (hebrew for "father"). The poet Jorge Luis Borges wrote that Aleph is a point in space that contains all other points. Anyone who gazes into Aleph can see everything in the universe from every angle simultaneously. (4" x 6", black ink print)

Sam Land

Uncle Sam was named after New York meatpacker Samuel Wilson who supplied beef to the US Army during the War of 1812. The beef barrels were labeled with the initials "U.S." which soldiers joked stood for Uncle Sam. During World War II, America was codenamed "Samland" by the German Intelligence Agency. This woodcut depicts the famous US Army Recruitment Poster which first appeared in 1916. It was used sparingly during WWI but became ubiquitous during WWII. The designer James Montgomery Flagg gave his subject a stern and threatening demeanor. No doubt the army was trying to "scare" citizens to enlist before mandatory conscription began in 1940. The slogan "I Want You" was a friendly euphemism. A more accurate slogan would have been "Your ass is mine!" (5" x 7", black ink print)

Jack Palance

Yes, he was this scary in person. I worked with Jack Palance in 1992 on the television series Legends of the West. He was intimidating. His height, his sharp cheekbones, his intense silence — all added to an aura of quiet menace. When I gained the courage to speak with him I learned his silence was merely shyness. He told me about his fondness for watercolor painting, his love of poetry, his huge cattle ranch in Bakersfield. He shared concerns over his son Cody who was battling drug addiction (Cody worked as a stuntman on the show.) He also told me about his ongoing battle with hemorrhoids and how he was apprehensive about riding a horse in the upcoming scenes. His birth name Vladimir Ivanovich Palahnuik sounds like a character in a Dostoevsky novel. (He’s a distant cousin to novelist Chuck Paluhnik.) He was in 1919 born in Lattimer Pines, Pennsylvania, the son of Ukrainian immigrants. His father was a coal miner and Palance worked in the mines as a teenager. He earned a football scholarship to the University of North Carolina then dropped out to pursue boxing. Fighting under the name Jack Brazzo, he won his first 15 fights, 12 by knockout. In 1940, his career ended with a loss to future heavyweight contender, Joe Baksi. Palance’s stark appearance was due to his time as a boxer and a stint in the military during WWII. He was badly burned in a test flight over Arizona when the B-24 bomber he was piloting crashed and exploded. Future publicists claimed the resulting plastic surgery gave him a taut, leathery look with deep set eyes. Palance said the stories were all lies. “Studio press agents make up anything they want to, and reporters go along with it. One flack created the legend that I had been blown up in an air crash during the war, and my face had to be put back together by way of plastic surgery. If it is a ‘bionic face’, why didn’t they do a better job of it?” After the war, Palance attended Stanford then moved to New York to pursue a theater career. He made his Broadway debut in 1947 appearing as a Russian soldier in The Big Two. His break came a year later when he became Marlon Brando’s understudy in a stage version of A Streetcar Named Desire. He ultimately replaced Brando on stage. Palance’s film debut was Panic In The Streets (1951) helmed by Streetcar director Elia Kazan. Palance played a gangster, the first of many villains he portrayed. Two years later, the classic western Shane made Palance a recognizable star. He plays a silent gunfighter Jack Wilson who is ultimately shot and killed by the hero played by Alan Ladd. During production on Shane, Palance confessed to director George Stevens he was uncomfortable around horses. Unable to navigate the simple act of getting off a horse, Palance resorted to acrobatically leaping off the animal. Stevens loved the image and ran the dismount in reverse as if that’s how Palance mounted his horse. He resorted to filming Palance riding at a casual gait since the actor was terrified to gallop at speed. The change made the villain seem more menacing. Palance’s performance in Shane earned him his second Best Supporting Actor Nomination. (His first was for Sudden Fear in 1952.) 40 years later he won Best Actor at age 73 for his role as Curly Washburn in City Slickers. He was the highlight of the Oscar telecast when he dropped to the stage and performed one-armed pushups. In 2004, Palance was invited to a Russian Film Festival in Hollywood where he was told that Vladimir Putin honored him with the title the “people’s artist.” Palance refused the title saying, “I have nothing to do with Russia or Russian film. My parents were born in Ukraine. I’m Ukrainian. I’m not Russian. So excuse me, but I don’t belong here. It’s best if we leave.” He walked out of the festival, pride intact. Palance died in 2006 at age 87 after losing his son Cody to melanoma in 1998.

Monkey Man

A few days before the freak show came to town, news reports began circulating of a strange monkey-like creature that was appearing at night and attacking people. Eyewitness accounts were inconsistent, but the creature was described as about five-feet tall covered in black hair and amazingly human-like. Imagine it's 1908, you're a young child in London, you've survived another flu season and your dad is taking you on a stroll down Piccadilly Street. You make it within a block of Hyde Park and there outside the Pickard Theater stands a monkey in a business suit. At least you think it's a monkey. The sign on the theater marquis advertises Solomon the Monkey Man. This was the nature of the circus in those days. Bearded ladies, strong men, two-headed boys and animal-human hybrids. The attached woodcut depicts an actual poster for a traveling circus/freak show from turn-of-the-century Europe. "Solomon" was supposedly found in the Solomon Islands. I have no idea what his performance consisted of, but if I were a kid in 1908 I would've killed to see him. (5" x 7", black ink print)

The Salesman

Conrad Romo is a lifelong salesman who's hocked everything from pens to chimney cleaning services to fresh meat to computer diskettes. He's also a talented writer who crafts honest stories taken from his own life. He is a devout practitioner of Zen Buddhism who studies at the Zen Center in midtown Los Angeles.

A few years back, the Zen Center experienced a series of break-ins by a convicted sex offender.  The perpetrator (who turned out to be an ex-student of the Center) entered the premises at night and attempted to sexually assault female residents. Conrad, who had several years training in the Israeli martial art of Krav Maga, decided to get involved. He volunteered to serve as an all-night security guard. In accordance with non-violent Buddhist teachings he armed himself only with a can of mace.

The first two nights passed without incident.  Conrad caught up on his reading and wrote letters to friends. By the third night Conrad was exhausted. He found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. Sometime after midnight he fell asleep. He was awakened by a loud noise in the kitchen. He opened his eyes, disoriented and confused. He reached for the mace knocking his glasses to the floor.

A blurry figure moved through the kitchen toward the adjacent residency hall. Filled with fear and surging adrenalin, Conrad moved toward the figure. The perpetrator attempted to enter one of the dorm rooms.

"Don't move," Conrad yelled. He pointed the mace toward the man. In the darkness, the man mistook the mace for a gun.

"Don't shoot me, please."

Conrad did a quick mental calculation. The guy could be on drugs.  He could have a gun. He could have grabbed a knife from the kitchen.

Realizing the danger, Conrad aimed the mace and unleashed a heavy dose of pepper spray. Unfortunately the canister was pointed backwards and Conrad maced himself. He screamed. The suspect pushed past him and ran toward the kitchen. Conrad gave chase.

Conrad caught up with the man as he was halfway out the kitchen window (the same way he'd broken in). Conrad doused the man's face with three heavy sprays of mace. The man yelled and fell out the window. Conrad called the police then spent five minutes rinsing his own eyes.  The man escaped but he would never break in again.

A few years later, Conrad heard that the man committed suicide. The Zen Center conducted a special ceremony blessing the man. Conrad objected to the ritual. The man had terrorized the facility. He shouldn't be celebrated.

At the ceremony, the Roshi lit candles around a wicker basket which represented the "hungry ghost" or  departed one. Residents were asked to leave offerings in the basket to help the man's passage into his next incarnation. People added flower petals, pieces of fruit, little carved Buddhas. Conrad waited for everyone to leave before adding his own tribute. He placed a canister of mace in the center of the basket. He'd already scared away the man once. He wanted to make sure the man would never return.

Conrad currently hosts a once-a-month writing salon in Los Angeles called "Tongue And Groove." He is a bonafide Los Angeles iconoclast. (4" x 6", black ink print)