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Published on December 04, 2020 06:49

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Published on November 28, 2020 16:15

“Just Me: The Life Story of a Nobody” – By Susan McKearney

“After reading through my tale, do not judge me too harshly. Remember the plain, old authoress, wrinkled and withered with the years.” — Susan McKearney

New Zealand grandmother Susan McKearney makes her literary debut with the stunning memoir Just Me: The Life Story of a Nobody. Crafted during the Great Depression, the book might be considered an Antipodean version of Little House on the Prairie. But it is not frozen in time. It contains pearls of wisdom, bitter truths, and defiant optimism — all acutely relevant in these dark days of 2020.

Click here for a preview.

Mrs. McKearney (née Hooey) was born to Irish immigrants in a tiny settlement about 50 km south of Auckland, New Zealand’s biggest city. Her mother died in childbirth, and Mrs. McKearney and her twin brother were raised by their abusive father until both ran away in their early teens. After working a succession of menial domestic jobs, she married a labourer and gave birth to seven babies, five of whom made it to childhood.

A lifetime of hard knocks provided plenty of fodder for Just Me, which is written in a fluid, conversational style belying Mrs. McKearney’s limited education. Part social commentator, part desperate housewife, she shares a potent combination of horror stories, light comedy, and revolutionary political philosophies.

Just Me is more than just her “life story.” It’s also a startling snapshot of ordinary folk who are being crushed by forces beyond their control or understanding. It recalls a time when people might earn just a few dollars a day for a long day’s hard labor. But they were the lucky ones, for the Great Depression shredded the world’s economic and social fabric. Recounting the catastrophe, Mrs. McKearney remains determined not to lose her humanity. “My aim is to show kindness and thankfulness until the very end of all things.”

Unearthing a buried treasure

Mrs. McKearney is not available for interviews, unfortunately. Born in 1866, a year after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, she came of age at a time when brave pioneers who had fled socio-economic stasis in the Mother Country eked out a grim, self-sufficient existence in a cashless society.

She died in 1950, aged eighty-four, a dozen years after Just Me was first published by a small Auckland printing firm. It received a glowing reviews, and Mrs. McKearney sold copies both in local stores and from her home. She also undertook promotional trips throughout the district, and was interviewed on national radio.

However, the sands of time inevitably turned Just Me into a buried literary treasure. It was uncovered by chance in 2019 by Los Angeles-based expat Dean Goodman, a journalist and author who was reading old newspapers online while undertaking genealogical research. His interest was immediately piqued. He managed to find a rare copy in Auckland, typed it up, and gave the manuscript a fresh edit. His extensive additional research included creating a McKearney family tree and visiting her hometown. Just Me is initially available on Kindle.

“Much has been written about both the Depression and colonial era, but relatively little from the perspective of a working-class woman on the front line. Susan McKearney is therefore somewhat of a pioneer in this field — even if she does persist in describing herself as a ‘nobody,’” he said.

“Hopefully this book will serve as a reminder of the sacrifices and suffering borne by settlers and their families. Sadly it’s also a reminder that the ‘good old days’ were often anything but.”

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Published on November 26, 2020 21:45

Happy Thanksgiving! Welcome, and pardon the rescue effort

Welcome to my relaunched website, your top destination for rock ‘n’ roll interviews and related nuggets of wisdom. Pardon the mess. I’m putting out fires that are slowing things down and messing things up. But I’m getting there.

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Published on November 24, 2020 20:06

Happy Thanksgiving! deangoodman.com – the resurrection

Pardon the mess, I’ve given the website a makeover, and there are a few odds and ends to sort out. Hopefully it’s a little more navigable now. I need to double-check that hyperlinks still work, and that the text and photos look OK. Let me know if you see any problems.

Yes, I know it is quite slow. It used to be rated “A” on gtmatrix; now it’s “D” — which is an improvement on “F” last night. Never thought I’d be relieved to get a “D” grade. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but I am on the case.

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Published on November 24, 2020 20:06

A wee drive to Paul McCartney’s Mull of Kintyre

Mull of Kintyre — you either hate the Paul McCartney folk song, or you’ve never heard of it (in which case you can sample it here.) These may seem strange options for one of the biggest pop hits of all time. I should clarify that “Mull of Kintyre” haters are likely closet fans and self-loathing Brits, while those who’ve never heard it are mainly Americans.

Of course I’m conveniently ignoring the middle ground: the millions of us who love the best Scottish song not written by a Scotsman. Another admission: I briefly fell out of love with “Mull of Kintyre” after my grandmother bought the single—possibly the only music purchase of her life—and danced around the house. Not cool. But those bagpipes are like a siren, in the classical sense rather than the annoying sense.

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Granny rock?

“Mull of Kintyre,” which Paul co-wrote with Denny Laine and is credited to their band Wings, replaced the Beatles’ “She Loves You” to become the biggest selling UK single of all time upon its 1977 release. It held the title until the Band Aid charity single “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” came out in 1984. “Mull of Kintyre” topped the UK charts for nine weeks, and also went to No. 1 in such countries as West Germany, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Australia, and New Zealand. Its charm was lost on those in North America, who preferred the flip-side, “Girls’ School.” Well, their loss.

I’ve made it my life’s work to travel to historical music sites around the world, including the Australian outback pub where David Bowie filmed his “Let’s Dance” video. The Mull of Kintyre has long been on my wish list, and I finally made it out there in June 2018 while touring the UK with Paul’s favorite group, the Rolling Stones. I grabbed a rental car in Glasgow and set off on my five-hour trip, stopping along the way for a tour of Inveraray Castle, the magical ancestral home of the Clan Campbell.

But first, what is a Mull and what is a Kintyre? A mull is a Scottish word for a headland or promontory, the latter word defined by Merriam-Webster as “a high point of land or rock projecting into a body of water. Kintyre is the name of a 30-mile-long peninsula in western Scotland. And the Mull of Kintyre is the most southwestern point of Kintyre. On a clear day you can see the coast of Ulster at County Antrim, about 12 miles away across the North Channel of the Irish Sea. I was fortunate to visit during a bit of a drought, so no “mist rolling in from the sea” for me.

After checking in at the excellent Ashbank Hotel in Carradale, I continued about six miles to Saddell Beach. This is where Paul, his wife Linda, and Denny filmed the “Mull of Kintyre” video with the help of the Campbeltown Pipe Band and assorted locals. It’s a beautiful location, but it’s nowhere near the actual Mull of Kintyre, which is about 26 miles and a good hour-long drive away. For my money the beach is a prettier site than the Mull. Approach slowly along the B842 as the entrance is easy to miss.

Saddell is a tiny settlement. Park where designated and walk the same trail to the beach as you see the locals doing in the video.

A screengrab showing Paul in front of the cottage and Linda walking towards him. The fence is no longer there.

The same cottage today.

Another screengrab shows the first appearance by the Campbeltown Pipe Band. Saddell Castle is in the background.

A similar perspective today

Saddell Castle today

Then it was off to the Mull itself along some mercifully empty, one-lane roads. The Mull of Kintyre is a large geographical area. It is not a specific spot or address. So don’t get paranoid that you can’t find the Mull. You’re probably already there. I took a million photos of this sign en route.

And here is the Mull, or the view from the Mull. A popular trail leads down to the lighthouse. I walked down a bit of the way, but was short on time, and the view was better from the top anyway. Click on the panorama:

Beatle fans guarding the trail at the Mull.

The thistle, the appropriate national flower of Scotland.

Car park at the top. The Kintyre roads are country lanes, and the road to the Mull is particularly tortuous. Pick a small car and drive slowly.

Campbeltown is worth a quick stop, but don’t expect to buy any Mull of Kintyre-related souvenirs. The quaint fishing village has completely missed the boat. You can visit a memorial garden dedicated to Linda McCartney. Click on the link for opening hours. I also took an informative tour at the Springbank distillery. There’s not much else to do.

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NOTE: My gossipy rock bio Strange Days: The Adventures of a Grumpy Rock ‘n’ Roll Journalist in Los Angeles is available here. For more info, go to strangedaysbook.com

The post A wee drive to Paul McCartney’s Mull of Kintyre appeared first on Dean Goodman.

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Published on February 20, 2019 22:52

Rolling Stones: Exile on Main St. – Extreme Trivia Edition

I’ve officially hit rock-bottom trying to find something new to write about the Rolling Stones. While perusing the back cover of Exile on Main St. the other day, for only the millionth time, I wondered about the photo of the newspaper headline that appears to read: “Father of Five Aids … Rescuer.”

It’s a still from a film shot by Robert Frank as the Stones—sans Keith Richards—strolled along the gritty Los Angeles thoroughfare that would lend its name to their new double album. You can see the footage in this unofficial, but highly popular video for Rocks Off—the brassy, psychedelic-tinged rocker that jump-starts Exile on Main St.

As you can see from a screenshot at about the 2:18 mark, the headline reads in full “Father of Five Aids Woman … Rescuer Stabbed.” Note also the headline above the masthead: “Floor Falls, Kills 2 Firemen.”

These stories led the Los Angeles Times on Feb. 23, 1972. The Stones were in L.A. about this time finishing up Exile on Main St., which would come out on May 12. It was easy to pinpoint the date because of the front-page photo—Nixon in China. This historic trip took place between Feb. 21 and Feb. 28, 1972. It didn’t take long to find the story in the Proquest database on the Los Angeles library website. The problem is that Charlie appears to be holding an early edition.

The edition in the database is the “Wednesday Late Final” and the overhauled front page boasts a banner headline about a city bus crash. Fascinating stuff. The heroic rescuer and firemen have been relegated to Page 3.

Here are some close-ups. The 32-year-old rescuer, Clarence M. Stewart, and his assailant, 17-year-old Gordon Lydell, who got 60 days in county jail and three years’ probation, are probably still alive; the other victim, Randi McAnally, was 56 at the time. Click on the links for info about the deceased firemen, Theodore “Ted” Currie and Paul Widrig.

The site of the purse-snatching at Beverly Blvd. and Rossmore Avenue.

The location of the fatal fire. Coincidentally, it was near Main St., albeit the 11,000 block, about 10 miles south of where the Stones had been. Note also the middle school—Gomper!

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NOTE: Unrelated to the above article, my gossipy rock bio Strange Days: The Adventures of a Grumpy Rock ‘n’ Roll Journalist in Los Angeles is available here. For more info, go to strangedaysbook.com

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Published on February 20, 2019 15:37

Down and out with the Beatles in Liverpool

Welcome to the world, Beatles! An unexploded bomb in a Liverpool garden, two miles from the home of John Lennon’s Aunt Mimi, November 1940. Courtesy: Merseyside Police.

[image error] Quick! Name the pub on the cover of Ringo Starr’s Sentimental Journey album (at right). Or, the venue where Ringo played his first official gig with the Beatles. Thanks to a recent trip to Liverpool, I know the answers—although it would have been cheaper to stay home and do an Internet search.

The Empress, 230 feet from Ringo Starr’s childhood home at 10 Admiral Grove (and next door to a mosque)

Hulme Hall, at the Port Sunlight model village in Wirral—across the Mersey from Liverpool. Ringo played here with the Beatles on Aug. 18, 1962, two days after Pete Best was fired.

But then I wouldn’t have experienced the most important music city in the world. [image error] People debate the so-called “Fifth Beatle”—George Martin? Billy Preston? Neil Aspinall? But I would posit, a little poetically, that the Fifth Beatle is Liverpool herself. As Mecca is to Muslims, so is Liverpool to discerning music fans. Only after walking the streets, soaking in the atmosphere, taking a ferry ‘cross the Mersey, and trying to decipher Scouse, etc., etc., can one begin to understand the essence of these working class kids.

Poor bastards taking photos of John Lennon’s home on a quick drive-by. Avoid this sort of tour.

Some pilgrims—especially those on drive-by bus tours—will inevitably get the wrong idea and romanticize the Fab Four’s humble beginnings, forgetting that Liverpool was a war-torn wasteland in the ’40s and ’50s (and a socio-economic disaster zone in the ’70s and ’80s). Thanks in part to Beatles-related tourism, it is now a fairly interesting town by modest English standards. But I’ll bet John and Paul were kicking themselves for not writing “We Gotta Get out of this Place.”

This house in the Childwall district was less than a mile from Aunt Mimi’s place. Liverpool, a vital port city, was the second-most-bombed UK target. Courtesy: Merseyside Police.

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Ringo has made no secret of his disdain for the Liverpool myth. I wonder why. What’s not to love about terraced housing and outhouses?

Ringo was born at this now-derelict rental flat (closest to the camera), at 9 Madryn Street, Dingle. All the houses on both sides are boarded up. The area was bombed during WWII.

No. 10 Admiral Grove, Dingle. Ringo lived in this “two (rooms) up, two down” with his mother and stepfather for 20 years until 1963. It’s a 2-minute walk between the two homes, via the Empress.

George Harrison didn’t have it much easier.

No. 12 Arnold Grove, Wavertree. George Harrison was born in this “two up, two down,” and lived here with his parents and three older siblings for the first six years of his life. The toilet was in the backyard.

No. 25 Upton Green, Speke. George Harrison and his family moved to this new council estate near the airport in about 1950. Still bleak.

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John and Paul had better digs in the nicer suburbs of Woolton and Allerton, respectively. Their well-preserved childhood homes, separated by a 25-minute walk along the golf course, are managed by the National Trust on behalf of the British people. It’s no exaggeration to describe Aunt Mimi’s Mendips and the McCartney residence on Forthlin Road as two of the most significant buildings in rock ‘n’ roll—in England, even. Attendance is compulsory.[image error] Book an official tour with the National Trust. There is no other way to get inside. No photos are allowed in the houses, so you’ll just have stand in quiet solitude in John Lennon’s bedroom overlooking Menlove Avenue and imagine how he plotted world domination. Over at the home of Jim, Mary, Paul and Mike McCartney, sit in the living room where John and Paul wrote many of their early songs. I appreciated the austere childhood homes of Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash, but 251 Menlove Avenue and 20 Forthlin Road are simply sacred.

The McCartneys relocated to this council estate from a less-favorable one in Speke, in 1955. There are three bedrooms upstairs, a bathroom, and a toilet—a new luxury for the family. They also had a telephone, which was a rarity. Paul moved his widowed father to a new house 15 miles away in 1964. It was bought by the National Trust in 1995.

View from the front garden

The McCartneys’ living room, depicted on the cover of the National Trust souvenir booklet. Photo: Dennis Gilbert.

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The semi-detached house was built in 1933 with art deco, art nouveau and Olde English trimmings; it takes its name from the Somerset countryside. John’s maternal aunt Mary “Mimi” Smith and her husband George moved here after they were married in 1939. John joined them in 1945. He and Paul often practised in the porch, which was enclosed in 1952. The house was sold in about 1965, after Mimi retired to Poole, Dorset, where John bought her a bungalow.

John’s bedroom! He looked out these windows! John lived at Mendips until 1963. After moving to New York, he never returned to Mendips. Yoko Ono bought the house in 2002 and donated it to the National Trust

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NOTE: Since you made it this far, reward yourself with my gossipy rock bio Strange Days: The Adventures of a Grumpy Rock ‘n’ Roll Journalist in Los Angeles, available here. For more info, go to strangedaysbook.com

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Apud McCartney. “Keep a knockin’ but you can’t come in.”

Underneath John’s bedroom.

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Published on February 18, 2019 15:23

Artimus Pyle Band hits the West Coast

It’s not often that Artimus Pyle performs on the West Coast. Based in North Carolina, the former Lynyrd Skynyrd drummer plies a thriving trade along the eastern seaboard with his astonishingly adept and clean-cut band. The last time I saw him play in southern California was in September 2013, and that may well have been his last gig in the state. Until January, 2019, when the Artimus Pyle Band (APB) ventured out West for five shows—a tour opener in Las Vegas, and four in California.

[image error]Artimus drove his van nonstop from Asheville to California, and back again.

I drove out to Las Vegas for the first show, where I also facilitated a reunion between Artimus and Dave Evans, the engineer on Nuthin’ Fancy. They had not seen each other since the late ‘70s, when they worked on an album with Leo LaBranche. Dave has kindly contributed his lucid reminiscences on the fraught Nuthin’ Fancy sessions to Artimus’ upcoming memoir; they are a welcome antidote to the venomous recollections spouted in producer Al Kooper’s book.

[image error]Artimus with Dave Evans, long-suffering engineer of Nuthin’ Fancy.

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After the summit at the hotel bar, it was off to Stoney’s Rockin’ Country—which touts itself as the place “where country LIVES in Las Vegas.” The venue, based in a large shopping mall across from an Abercrombie & Fitch and an Old Navy, looks disturbingly corporate from the outside. But inside, it’s a parallel universe of beautiful people of all races in cowboy hats and denim finery, the obligatory mechanical bull, girls gyrating in cages, and line-dancing. I didn’t know where to look, but quickly fixated on the latter activity, which I knew solely from a Billy Ray Cyrus video. It is now my life’s ambition to master this curious craft.

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APB hit the stage, whose similarly curious backdrop was a prairie cottage, about 10:30 p.m. with “The Needle and the Spoon,” a track from Second Helping. It was quickly followed by That Smell, “Comin’ Home,” Saturday Night Special, Workin’ for MCA, and my personal fave, the lurid On the Hunt.

Artimus + “Saturday Night Special”

You don’t get “On the Hunt” or “Comin’ Home” if you go to see Gary’s band, nor do you get the same level of expert musicianship. Artimus’ guys are journeymen from the Asheville area with extensive pedigrees. Per Artimus’ decree, they play Skynyrd with accuracy and respect—no showboating or impromptu jams. What you’ve heard on the records for more than four decades is exactly what you get live. Most of the lead vocals are handled by keyboardist Brad Durden, straight from the Georgia woods. Guitarist Scott Raines also does lead vocals, as well as the Allen Collins solo on “Free Bird.” Jerry Lyda, a music-store owner in Asheville, complements Scott on guitar. APB is rounded out by the latest addition, Dave Fowler on bass. Note his nifty axe.

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[image error]Artimus at the merch desk after the show. Note one of the go-go dancer cages in the background.

Four days later, APB was in beautiful, downtown Tarzana—15 miles northwest of Hollywood—for a semi-private barroom gig at Petie’s Place. It was a celebration organized at the last minute by Cleopatra Records, the company behind an upcoming movie about the Skynyrd plane crash. The set list was the same, 15 songs spanning the Skynyrd canon, and notably included the tunes co-written by Leon (Travellin’ Man) and Billy (Whiskey Rock-a-Roller). We all sang along to Simple Man, boogied hard to Call Me the Breeze, and stood in wide-eyed wonderment to Free Bird. And then we hung out afterwards as Artimus worked the room.

[image error]Artimus and Artimus, i.e. , who plays Artimus in the movie.

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Artimus and my wife, Fernanda.

The only downer was the weather. Even Los Angeles has a little bit of a winter, and APB chose a soggy couple of days to spend in town. Well hopefully it won’t be too long before we get another helping of the most authentic Skynyrd you’ll ever hear until Elon Musk unveils his time machine.

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NOTE: My gossipy rock bio Strange Days: The Adventures of a Grumpy Rock ‘n’ Roll Journalist in Los Angeles, featuring a chapter on Artimus, is available here. For more info, go to strangedaysbook.com

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Published on February 16, 2019 19:03

Literary agent Jennifer De Chiara to author: Drop dead

I’m not responding to anymore emails from you, so don’t bother responding. — Jennifer De Chiara, literary agent, New York.

I’m not disappointed that my literary agent, Jennifer De Chiara, fired off an unprofessional email to me. I am disappointed that she didn’t do it with more literary flair. This is a brassy New Yorker who works on the periphery of the publishing industry. Am I not deserving of some artful bons mots? All I got was a typo and some awkward syntax.

The timing was awkward, too. The email was sent on Jan. 8, 2019. As I write this, my publisher is working hard to release a wonderful memoir I co-authored with Artimus Pyle, the former drummer with Lynyrd Skynyrd. Things are in in flux, and Jennifer De Chiara (also confusingly spelled as DeChiara) has gone AWOL on us. Notwithstanding her edict, I did send some follow-up emails reminding her that she is contractually obligated to make her “best efforts” to represent the book “enthusiastically.” No response.

THE DISAPPEARING AGENT

Jennifer De Chiara has been our agent for almost seven years, and she signed us to a modest deal at Backbeat Books, a small music specialist that I preferred over the larger, general-interest houses. The manuscript was finished on time in early 2017 and a release date was set for October 2017, the fortieth anniversary of the plane crash that killed Artimus’ friends. But Jennifer disappeared on us mid-year when the book was put on hold pending the resolution of some unrelated litigation involving Artimus and a Skynyrd biopic he was working on. (It was resolved in his favor, on appeal, in October 2018.)

From June 2017 onwards—18 months—there was not a peep from Jennifer, not a single call or email to check up on the lawsuit, the book, or her clients’ well-being. In that time, Artimus and I were in frequent contact with the publisher as we devised various legal and release strategies—tasks normally handled by an agent. I assumed Jennifer De Chiara had lost interest, and moved on. Just to be sure, I emailed her on Christmas Eve, 2018:

Dear Jennifer, It has been a while since we last spoke. I wonder, please, if you could clarify your involvement with Artimus Pyle’s memoir going forward. I infer from your silence since June 2017 that you have moved on. I would prefer to have you on board, but if you feel otherwise I respect that – and I guess we would need to make that official. Kind regards, Dean Goodman

Jennifer De Chiara quickly replied:

I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t been in touch because there’s no news with the book, but neither you or Artimus have reached out to me either. I’m legally the agent on the book, and that won’t change, so of course I’m involved. I checked in with the publisher recently, and there’s no update regarding the lawsuit; the status of the book has not changed. If there’s something you feel I should be doing, let me know.

SHIFTING THE BLAME

Well, I’m glad Jennifer’s still on board and willing to serve, but I was surprised by her claim that there was “no news” because there was a lot of news. We even had a new release date. And why did she say there was “no update regarding the lawsuit” when the only lawsuit—Artimus’ movie litigation—had been resolved? As for her claim that neither Artimus nor I had reached out to her, Jennifer De Chiara did not like speaking with Artimus, and she made it clear in June 2017 that she had no desire to speak with me either. As you’ll see below, she likes to shift the blame.

DEAN: Dear Jennifer, There has actually been a lot of news with the book and Artimus, and I’m not aware of any lawsuit against the book. But since you asked if there’s something you can do, I would ask that you get back to [the publisher, to sort out some matters]. Dean Goodman.

JENNIFER: You’re not aware of any lawsuit against the book? Did they drop the lawsuit?

DEAN: There was a lawsuit against the film—which Artimus won.

D’oh! Our agent should have known all this. It was all over the news. But nobody’s perfect. She didn’t reply, didn’t even offer a congratulatory or festive emoji. A few weeks went by. On Jan. 8, I emailed Jennifer:

DEAN: Jennifer, any updates from Backbeat?

JENNIFER: Nothing new.

At this point, I knew something that Jennifer De Chiara evidently didn’t know, that Backbeat had been sold!! An announcement was made via the Publishers Weekly trade paper in mid-December, and I belatedly learned of it hours before the above email to Jennifer. I was getting annoyed.

DEAN: So you’re not aware that Backbeat changed ownership . . . and the book’s status is now uncertain? Surely you would have known these things and informed us, if you had, indeed, “checked in with the publisher recently”? If you could represent our interests “enthusiastically,” per our deal – and honestly – that would be appreciated. We’ve all worked too hard to see this fall apart now. Dean Goodman.

JENNIFER: Yes, I did check in with the publisher recently. I don’t appreciate your attitude. I don’t deserve it . . . Just read your email again–now you’re calling me dishonest? Go to hell.

DEAN: Why didn’t you tell us Backbeat had been sold? Why did you not know that there was NO lawsuit against the book? That [the publisher] had planned to release the book as a drop-in title in early summer?

The emails were flying back and forth, overlapping. I present them in a logical flow.

JENNIFER: Why didn’t you email me about all this?

Again, she’s blaming me, for something she should have known. Great. She also blamed her ignorance on a Backbeat senior editor, with whom she claimed to have spoken in early December, just before the sale was announced. I quickly googled that person and it seemed she had left Backbeat in November, another thing Jennifer was unaware of and said I should have told her about. (It’s possible that Jennifer did, indeed, speak with the Backbeat folks, but these must have been some strange conversations.)

DEAN: I found out about the Backbeat sale today [Jan. 8], from [the publisher]. I kinda thought you should know these industry things and book updates.

JENNIFER … I’ve been away since the 14th [of December]–I don’t check Publishers Weekly when I’m on vacation! Take your attitude and shove it. I’m not responding to anymore emails from you, so don’t bother responding.

DEAN: Unprofessional. You are our agent. You work for our book. There will be repercussions if you fail to uphold your fiduciary responsibilities … The last time I wanted to speak to you, 18 months ago, you refused to call me. I had hoped to give “us” another chance.

Crickets. Like I said, I have emailed Jennifer De Chiara a few times since then. I even suggested that she hand us over to one of her colleagues if she preferred not to work with us directly. More crickets. I am trying to terminate the relationship, which is not as easy as it should be. Writing the book with Artimus was the highlight of my professional life. There was never a bad day. We are so proud of the book, and can’t wait to share it with fans and critics. It’s a shame when an industry “professional” lets us down.

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