M Y O B

BANGKOK to HUA HIN

South Thailand Bangkok to Hua Hin

7 October 1968
Dear all~

After tracking down the pawn-shop where my camera was lodged & getting it out of hock—sans the film that had been in it, which I had not begun to use—I departed Bangkok gratefully about 9:30 AM. Times will be approximate from here on out—no watch! Despite a hopelessly inaccurate map provided by Shell Oil Co, I managed to find my way. I’ll have to assume the highway was renumbered (from 5 to 4) after the map was made up. Breaking in the Honda held me down to 30 mph for the first 50 miles. and I was able to then pick up a little better speed as the day progressed. First stop was Nakorn Prathom (the english names for these towns are spelled differently on every map I’ve seen—yours probably are different, so use your imagination!), where I posted mail and viewed the positively immense Wat there. It’s a big stupa that gives the impression from a distance of being turned from a single block of marble. But of course it is not marble at all—it is brick like most of them, hollow, and has a covering of tiny tiles in the peculiar pink-orange shade of red marble. The effect is enhanced (at a distance) by large patches of grey which proved to be places where the tiles are falling off. But the thing is gigantic—easily 100 ft or more diameter at the base. The day was lovely, sunny & warm, and I pushed on through Petchaburi (or Rajaburi—same place) to Phetburi, which has a nice cluster of temples, Wats and stupas situated atop a small hill. The day continuing fine, I moved on—the road degenerating into a more enjoyable 2-lane sort reminiscent of Cambodia—& arrived at Hua  Hin about 4 o’clock; 253 km from BK.

Somewhere South of Bangkok

Now, Hua Hin is a delightful spot, situated on the east Thai coast (or western shore of the Gulf of Thailand). It has miles of white sand beaches, and is backed up by mountains—the end of the chain going up into Burma. The town is also right on the railroad, and the delightful chug of steam engines pervades my hotel room at times. There are a number of resort-type hotels, but of course I’m at a chinese hotel nearer the center of town. Poked about on the beach a while—will swim tomorrow—and watched trains and (alternately) lovely sunset behind the mountains. For a while it was possible to see a spectacular sun-set in one direction and an equally spectacular moon-rise over the water in the other direction. I got no rain today at all—the first such day for some while—although it was stormy close-by over the hills. And of course I am a bit reddish here and there from the sun, though not seriously burned. I remembered to “grease up” fairly early. Although the roads are good, they are dirty, and my shirt was black (from diesel smoke) in places when I got here. I washed it out first thing. Then me—I was black in spots too! Had a pleasant and cheap Thai-food dinner. Happily, I am seeing some smiling faces again, and the atmosphere is getting more rural.

Beach at Hua Hin

Recall I mentioned deterioration of the film which I carried for many weeks before having it developed. This photo is a good example. With about an hour of work, I can enhance it to look like this:

The Beach at Hua Hin, South Thailand, 1968

It looks as though I shall break down and take some pictures of Thailand after all, though I took none—and want none—of Bangkok. There is a nice steam-engine on display here, a 3-cylinder “Superheat” (brand) made in the USA ca. 1920. All the engines I’ve seen seem to be this type. What a delight to see them, and smell hot, wet oil—and burning wood—again.

3-Cylinder “Superheat” (brand) Made in the USA ca. 1920

The Thais maintained these engines wonderfully, even when they were retired and on display.

Between Phetburi and here one passes through an area where a lot of charcoal is made, in curious brick bee-hive-like charcoal ovens. The smell is unlike anything I’ve ever smelled, but is certainly agreeable. Along the beach there are countless small sand-crabs that apparently spend their whole lives digging holes in the sand; that which they displace they make into small balls, which gives whole stretches of the beach a curious “pebbly” appearance. And there are immense jelly-fish, which apparently are harmless, since many people fool with them.

Will probably slow down a bit now that I’m away from BK. The route seems to criss-cross the isthmus several times. My best guess is that I’ll stay, at least overnight if not longer, in Chumpon next, then Ranong or Kapoe, then Phuket (on an island and said to be very pretty). At Kra buri I will apparently be right across the river from Burma. Ranong of course is on the other shore of the Isthmus, but between Krabi and Songhla I will cross back over again through Sadao to Penang (also an island). By then of course I will be in Malaysia. But I rather imagine I shall take at least a week to get there, assuming the “natives are friendly”—or at least more hospitable than in BK. Honda is performing better, but has a whole new group of sounds to get used to. In BK I dismantled the seat, discarding all the springs in it (too stiff) and stuffed a whole foam-rubber pillow into it. Considerably more comfortable than formerly.

Have no address to advise in Singapore. Will probably cable as before. 30 for tonight—early to bed; if I stay here tomorrow it will have to be all day, since the next hop is a long one & will require an early start. But I think I’d better swim here where the weather is good—my experience in Sihanoukville being what it was!

Love to all~

Bruce

________________

Tuesday 8 October

Arose as nearly as I can figure about 7:30 AM. After a leisurely breakfast, I drove around town (which didn’t take long as there is not much of it) a bit, then found a nice beach & went swimming & sunning for the better part of an hour. Couldn’t over-do is as most of me is still pretty unaccustomed to the tropical sun, which will burn very quickly. Poked around the RR station for a while & saw some nice engines. The RR has quite a lot of activity on it.

A very big staple in the diet of all the countries I’ve visited is dried squid; catching & drying them is a big business here. Fresh from the water they are spread out on loosely-woven mats and these are put anywhere the direct sun will strike them. Drying doesn’t take long, but it is a very odoriferous process, as you can imagine.

Drying Squid in Hua Hin, 1968. Pee-yew!

In the afternoon I found a nice road going back into the mountains. Actually, it goes over the first saddle into quite a large valley, perhaps 2-300 feet above sea-level, & meanders around in this before suddenly ending in a cluster of foot-paths, right in the middle of a farm. It was stormy over the mountains further inland, and later the storm moved near town, though only light sprinkles of rain actually hit the town. I took the opportunity to do a bit of cleaning, tuning and checking of the Honda. I’d forgotten to check the spark-plug gaps before leaving BK, and was sure from the performance that they’d been set at the factory recommended 0.024″. For some reason on my machine this results in poor pick-up at wide throttle; re-setting the plugs to 0.020″ cures this nicely, so now I can be a little more sure of response when I twist the handle-grip. On the roads that lie ahead, this probably won’t be needed anyhow. Except for an annoying rattle inside (hence totally inaccessible) the right muffler, all is well. The rattle developed some while ago, & the only cure is a new muffler, which is hardly necessary. I can put up with the rattle, knowing it is not a serious problem. Depart early tomorrow for Chumpon—unless something interesting deters me; — about 267 km distant. Only a little farther than the BK-Hua Hin stretch, but poorer roads (thank goodness—they’re much more fun) so a bit slower going I expect.

Love to all~

Bruce

Next leg of trip: Chumpon. Lots of steam!

February 6, 2009

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll live long enough to finish this blog! In the narrative, I’m only out of high school, still confused about my role in relation to others, and not particularly sure what I might want to do in life. The narrative will continue, but on this page I want to discuss some contemporary items.

/rant mode on/

ADVERTISEMENTS ON THE TELLY

I watch a lot of TV. More properly, I sleep a lot in front of the TV. I have seen the first ten or fifteen minutes of hundreds of programs, but fall asleep during the first spate of commercials, largely because I turn off the sound, tune out  the subject, and nod off.

It amazes me to think there are thousands of people working in the advertising industry who sit around all day and come up this stuff! How can they live with themselves? What I see on cable (never watch regular TV) is so blatantly stupid and stultifying, its hard to imagine anyone can be so unimaginative as to think it up. Do they really think I am so stupid I would fall for any of their blandishments?

Here’s a few of the worst currently on cable:

• Nutrisystem, which spends five minutes trying to make me believe I can lose weight like the guys shown, while displaying a “results not typical” flag. So, if the results aren’t typical, why are they saying they ARE typical? “Three months of complete meals”, while noting that we have to “add-in grocery and produce items”? Then the meals are NOT complete. It is all a bunch of lies.

• L’Oreal “Regenerist” creme, $7.00 for an ounce bottle with ingredients worth a quarter at most (the bottle probably costs more than the contents). The comely lass in the ad is young and has a naturally flawless appearance for which she was selected. The inference is that using this crap will make someone look as nice as she does. Are there folks out there who fall for this? Can they be that stupid?

• Capital One Credit Cards.  Producing these ads, with dozens of actors, sets, stupid “plots” with the “What’s in your Wallet” punch-line must cost a fortune. They could afford to charge several percent less to the cardholders if they did not spend all this money on stupid ads like these. And, what’s in MY wallet is MY business! I can assure you there is no card from CapOne.

• Geico ads, with that stupid anthropomorphized gecko with a fake accent. I guess Warren Buffet can afford to saturate the radio and TV waves with this crap, but he could charge even less for the insurance if he’d spend less on these dumb ads. I even got a junk-mail offer from GEICO, which I sent back with a note: “Coming soon to an internet near you: Sick_of_GEICO_ads.com”. Somebody has to do it!

• Auto Insurance ads in general, now all promising to “save XX percent by switching to Bumfuck Insurance Company.” So, with a half-dozen switches, I could get my insurance down to zero? Not bloody likely!

• All Ads for women’s hair products. My stomach turns every time I see these, not because I am queer and could care less about most women or their hair, but because I know there are millions of women in the world who are lucky if they have even a scrap of soap with which to wash their hair, most likely in sewage. Imagine how much good the enormous sums spent on useless hair preparations in “developed” countries could do if spent in less developed countries.

• Automobile ads, especially the “cash-back” come-on. Do people really let themselves get hooked on that gimmick? It’s a loan added to the price of the car! The interest rate is exorbitant!  Or, the “zero interest” lie. Read the fine print: “$1.66 per hundred dollars financed” is 1.66 percent, which is NOT zero!

• ALL ads, with the “fine print” buried at the bottom of the screen, in non-contrasting lettering, and there for so short a time NO ONE can possibly read it!

/rant mode off/

I could go on like this, but you get the idea: advertisements are utterly wasted on me, and I suspect they are wasted on almost everyone. Time, effort and money down the drain!

ITS A LOT OF

Still, there have been a few adverts I like: the FedEx ad fedex-commercial2 with the cavemen was funny, but ran for only  a short time. [On the other hand, the cavemen GEICO ads are beyond stupid!] The home warehouse ad homewarehouse1 was entertaining as well.  There are lots of ads from over-seas that show europeans to be more discerning and clever at writing ads, and willing to be a bit risque at times. (My favorite is this Hyundai ad: hyundai1 We see these on award programs for “best ads”, but we never see the ads themselves on OUR TeeVees.

There was ONE ad that induced me to buy a product. Very clever, but again it ran only a short while. The ad itself was perhaps 20 seconds in duration, but really packed a punch. The scene was a typical kitchen, with an empty table in the foreground. John Houseman walked on camera with a bottle of something clutched his hand: he plopped the bottle down vigorously on the table, looked into the camera with his wonderful scowl, and said “Use Puritan Oil!!!”  I was so intimidated I actually did buy a bottle: it was around for years, since I rarely cook with oil. But I loved that ad. Only three words—imagine that! [A much longer ad for Puritan Oil with Houseman in his inimitable style can be seen here.]

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS

More appalling than anything else, for me, is this: NONE of the perpetrators who have gotten us into this mess has yet gone to JAIL: my sense is that none will.

A friend of mine is fond of an old aphorism (I’ve no idea where it originated): “A fish rots from the head”. With George the titular head of our government, things went to pieces right down through government and the private sector as well. Dubya was never held accountable for anything he did, and everyone took that as their cue to do whatever they liked—no one would care. For the most part no one did! Now it comes to light that the SEC had been warned about Bernie Madoff ten years ago. Nothing was done. Many people foresaw the business downturn, especially those watching the sub-prime mortgage fiasco. Nothing was done. Many people warned Detroit to build better cars. Nothing was done. There was NO ACCOUNTABILITY.

Now, with nearly every system in the country breaking down and falling apart the Republicans still WANT TO DO NOTHING! There are even “conservative Democrats” who WANT TO DO NOTHING!

I’m beginning to wonder of anyone can ever set things right! President Obama has the right ideas for the most part, but obstructionists used to the old way of doing things in Washington are unwilling to work with him.

The current issue of The Nation (America’s oldest news magazine) has a fine article by Jonathan Schell (not his usual one-page piece, but a full-blown article) describing in detail how all the forces came together to get us into this fix. I have not finished the piece yet, so don’t know if he has a prescription for putting “Humpty-Dumpty back together again”.

TROMPE – L’ŒIL

Judging by my perusal of numerous gay blogs, the current “ideal man” seems to be a twenty-something (where something = ±2) fellow with six-pak abs. Now I read that many of these “chiseled abdominals” are painted on! Ain’ nuthin’ sacred?

Coming soon: I go to College. Stay tuned…

09.September.68
Mon Chers~

I recall dashing off a short note at the bottom of my last letter that may have left you suspended a bit. To recount: last Saturday AM I returned to the Australian Embassy, where they prepared for me a letter to the Pochentong (airport) Customs authorities. I’m not sure what the letter said, but in any event it was the magic touch necessary, and after a whole lot of filling in of forms, books, etc., the Chef explained that I was free to depart “avec moto”, and to proceed to tour Cambodia entirely as I pleased. He gave me a warm “Welcome to Cambodia” (even If 2 days late) and hoped I would enjoy my stay.

So, having gotten beforehand a bottle of petrol (the bike had to be flown “dry”), and having on-the-spot re-attached the silencers, I got under way. Now, since having had the engine re-built in the Honda [before leaving Saigon], I’d never really gotten it broken in, & never had the chance to take a “shake-down” run. I’d intended to go to Vung Tao, but by the time I had time for that, the VC were making trouble out that way again. Just driving around Saigon, I had experienced an assortment of minor ills & had (I hoped) corrected them all. Re-attaching the silencers (besides making the machine quiet) seemed to improve its performance.

I visited the Palais Royale the same morning. It is lovely. Curiously, amid the splendor of the various buildings (most of them built around 1915) is a small 2-story building “a la style francaise”, a building built by Napoleon much earlier. But there it sits, all ginger-bread and bric-a-brac; it looks so out of place! After lunch I went through the National Museé (much of it currently being reconstructed). As Todd said, they have a large collection of statues of various Khmer Kings—but not a great deal else.

Saturday night I was poking around the city & stopped for a Pepsi at a small restaurant. The owner—to my surprise—spoke flawless english and welcomed me so warmly it was almost overwhelming. It turned out this man is an expatriate Vietnamese, and he was eager for news: I wish I could have been more encouraging. Of course, this episode lasted through several Pepsis, a large dish of Cambodian-style beef-steak (rather like Korean bool-goggie, but not cooked at the table [and served over water-cress] and so forth: it was after 1 am before I got back to the hotel for sleep! And by prearrangement Mr. Thang-Ny showed up promptly at 8:30 to take me sight-seeing. After petit-dejeunez, where we were joined by another friend, we took the bike in for a battery-charge (too much stop & go driving) and while that was in progress we walked to the phnom for relaxation and photos. It was a gorgeous day. Following completion of the battery charge, all 3 of us drove out [Highway 2] into the country-side (to and somewhat beyond Takhmau), had refreshments, then returned to to PPenh. I lolligagged most of the rest of the day, having not gotten enough sleep the nite before. Did some souvenir shopping—and am happy to say found local items. A good dinner, an evening walking tour, and then to bed to rest up for the trip to Kep.

BACKSTORY: Mr. Ny had introduced himself to me in the hotel lobby: he spoke passable english, and was eager to try it out. I was eager to try him out, so we had a nice afternoon romp right there in the Mondial, and arranged to meet the next morning for sight-seeing. His friend wasn’t bad, either!

Temples Like this One Near Takhmau) are Everywhere!

I got on the road about 8:30 am. Another beautiful day, perfect for touring. First stop was Takeo [via Highways 3 and 25] where I had breakfast of sorts about 10:15. Traffic is, indeed, light, but autos and busses (especially) go like mad and one has to give them a wide berth! Had a pleasant chat with the elder Takeo police Chief, who introduced himself warmly. I understood about half of what he said (in French), and hope he understood as much of my rejoinders (in fractured French).

New Police Meeting Hall

The Chief of Police in Takeo proudly showed off their new meeting-hall, recently completed. Not an automobile in sight!

Once the initial shock of seeing an American wears off, the people respond with warm & spontaneous affection that is both heart-warming and encouraging. But I am a rarity here, so that I get lots of unabashed stares, especially in the countryside. But a smile & a wave (a choumreap sour is pretty hard to execute with one hand on the throttle) brings instant response in kind.

It began to rain very lightly as I approached Kampot, so I stopped there for a bowl of “Soup Chinois” and sat out a typical tropical rain for about an hour. (Chinese soup—besides being very good, is one of the safest foods here; there’s likely to be anything & everything in it, but it is kept at a boil all day long.) After the rain stopped I shopped in the central market for Kampot Pepper, and bought a hand of “ananas” to eat later on. The little boy who sold them to me was so taken aback by it all—I’m sure it’s been a while since he sold his fruit to an american—but his charming smile would win any heart. 4 riels (about 8¢) for the bananas.

BACKSTORY: There was a group of stalls all selling bananas, but I chose the one being tended-to by the youngster, chicken-queen that I am. (His mother had gone on an errand). I guessed his age at ten, but you never know. He was all smiles and all business as he interpreted my proffered hand to mean I wanted a hand of bananas, and he held up four fingers to tell me it would cost 4 riels. I was tempted to swoop him up, put him behind me on the bike, and ride off into the sunset. But I didn’t: and now he’s over 50 years old, if he survived the K-R massacre. I wonder if he remembers that tall american with the big motorcycle.

As I proceeded to Kep [Highways 3 and 16], I was on the heels of a storm, so from time to time stopped under a tree for refuge—and bananas! And about 2:30 I came around a corner and there was the seashore, a lovely beach, lovely sunshine, and no more than half-a-dozen people to be seen!

Banana Break Near Kep

I stopped under this tree for a ciggie and banana: that yellow spot on the right side of the bike is the hand of bananas I bought earlier. Just over that rise is a spectacular view of the Gulf of Tonkin and Kep.

Happily, the machine is preforming flawlessly. The valve-gear in a Honda sounds like a thrashing machine, but they do run well, & as mine is still “running in”, I’ve taken it fairly easy. Tomorrow! A day on the beach. Have lotion, so I hope to avoid further burn (my face & arms burned slightly this morning before I realized it). As usual, will close this but add more anon~

Luv~
Bruce

A Rural Road, Somewhere Near Phnom Penh

The next day: Bokor and Sihanoukville. Stay tuned!

I INTERRUPT MY NARRATIVE …

… to discuss a matter of some importance to several large segments of our population: pornography.

I’m old enough to remember vividly the days when there was NO commercial porn. What porn there was consisted mostly of typewritten material, often second-and third- carbon-copies, occasionally with crude drawings included. A friend of mine had a HUGE collection of this stuff. Later, when the firm for which we both worked got a dry copier, he made Xerox copies in large quantities. Since he was the “key operator” for the machine, he got away with it for many months, until he left an “original” on the platen which someone else found. There was a bit of a dust-up, of course, but only a very few knew he was the perp, so he went on with it, being more careful! But I digress…

As I completed college, I found there were some magazines available here and there: these were not really pornographic in today’s sense of the word. There were no “dirty-book stores”: only a few magazine-stands would carry these off-color rags. One of these was a tiny (like, 5″ X 7″) black and white booklet called Tomorrow’s Man. It was mainly devoted to body-builders, posing (often oiled) in miniscule thongs and jock-straps. Penises were generally stuffed out of the way, which gave rise to the notion that most body-builders are not well hung. (The porn revolution has busted that myth!) Fizeek was another of these magazines, very similar in design and scope and there were several others.

Then there was AMG (Athletic Model Guild), in a slightly larger format, also black and white. This was produced in Southern California and appeared to contain mostly navy guys (”seafood”) earning a little extra cash (to buy booze and girls, of course). I suppose a collection of these magazines would be worth some money nowadays. In the early issues the boys were mostly dressed, usually shirtless, and showing some basket (sometimes enormous ones—I often suspected salamis had been substituted for the real thing). The intent of these photos was certainly to provoke a salacious reaction in the reader, and I suppose it was successful for some: but the other intent was to “push the envelope” and get porn main-streamed. As time went on, the guys wore less and less and various symbols (often scratched on the negatives) were used to indicate sexual preferences, physical statistics and so forth. It is difficult, now, to believe that to state (or even suggest) that someone was “gay” or -gasp- homosekshull, was forbidden! [When someone implied Liberace was homosexual, he sued (libel), and WON!] The cute stuff in AMG was all designed to avoid prosecution for distributing “obscene” material under a whole bunch of court rulings generally lumped together and called “obscenity laws”

TM eventually disappeared (a copy from 1954 was available recently for $95.00), but AMG pushed on pushing, their material becoming more prurient and occasionally in color. Then, in 1973, came “Miller v. California”, which, while not opening the flood-gates exactly, did make it obvious the definition of obscene was not an easy task. It gradually dawned on people in general and on the courts, that obscenity was as much “in the eye of the beholder” as in the producer: by this time, AMG was definitely obscene, and was to become far more-so before it folded.

However, from the 70’s on, pornography “took off”. Large-format magazines that had kept the air-brushes busy removing “lumps” began including explicit (and occasionally real) hard-ons: the air-brushes went to work enhancing rather that deleting! With the useful addition of “adult” bookstores where all this stuff could be displayed and sold, the pornography market exploded. Specialty-subject mags appeared, including kiddie-porn, which as quickly as it appeared was legislated out of existence. My favorite title of the “niche rags” was Stump, and I leave it to my readers to imagine its contents!

Professional pornographers were quick to exploit technology: even amateurs quickly saw the possibilities of the Polaroid camera! I had a neighbor in the early 50’s who took photos of every hard-on he could find (he’s immortalized in Piece on Earth at Nifty). Prior to that, all porno had been produced on conventional film, an expensive and laborious process given that one had to find places to develop film that would NOT call the cops if they found a hard-on (or worse). The advent of the electronic camera for production (professional and otherwise), and the internet (for distribution) has radically changed the whole “porno” scene. Kids growing up today have this phenomenal wealth of porn available if they want it, and the ready means to produce and distribute it themselves if so inclined:  and they do, as I’m sure my readers know.

It’s all pretty amazing stuff for old farts like me who have watched it all unfold. For a walk through memory lane, there’s a website that sells the old magazines here. My own career, such as it is, writing “fuck stories” began in 1987 with First and Second Cousins: it has been on Nifty practically from its inception.

PeeYes: I’m also old enough to remember that the Nifty (gay) Archive was originally accumulated by someone at Cornell University: whether student or faculty I’ve never known. Its original URL ended in cornell.edu! I suppose someone eventually discovered it and forced it off-site! But it still exists here and contains thousands of original gay stories; many are fine examples of “one-handed-reading”.

BANGKOK to HUA HIN

South Thailand Bangkok to Hua Hin

7 October 1968
Dear all~

After tracking down the pawn-shop where my camera was lodged & getting it out of hock—sans the film that had been in it, which I had not begun to use—I departed Bangkok gratefully about 9:30 AM. Times will be approximate from here on out—no watch! Despite a hopelessly inaccurate map provided by Shell Oil Co, I managed to find my way. I’ll have to assume the highway was renumbered (from 5 to 4) after the map was made up. Breaking in the Honda held me down to 30 mph for the first 50 miles. and I was able to then pick up a little better speed as the day progressed. First stop was Nakorn Prathom (the english names for these towns are spelled differently on every map I’ve seen—yours probably are different, so use your imagination!), where I posted mail and viewed the positively immense Wat there. It’s a big stupa that gives the impression from a distance of being turned from a single block of marble. But of course it is not marble at all—it is brick like most of them, hollow, and has a covering of tiny tiles in the peculiar pink-orange shade of red marble. The effect is enhanced (at a distance) by large patches of grey which proved to be places where the tiles are falling off. But the thing is gigantic—easily 100 ft or more diameter at the base. The day was lovely, sunny & warm, and I pushed on through Petchaburi (or Rajaburi—same place) to Phetburi, which has a nice cluster of temples, Wats and stupas situated atop a small hill. The day continuing fine, I moved on—the road degenerating into a more enjoyable 2-lane sort reminiscent of Cambodia—& arrived at Hua  Hin about 4 o’clock; 253 km from BK.

Somewhere South of Bangkok

Now, Hua Hin is a delightful spot, situated on the east Thai coast (or western shore of the Gulf of Thailand). It has miles of white sand beaches, and is backed up by mountains—the end of the chain going up into Burma. The town is also right on the railroad, and the delightful chug of steam engines pervades my hotel room at times. There are a number of resort-type hotels, but of course I’m at a chinese hotel nearer the center of town. Poked about on the beach a while—will swim tomorrow—and watched trains and (alternately) lovely sunset behind the mountains. For a while it was possible to see a spectacular sun-set in one direction and an equally spectacular moon-rise over the water in the other direction. I got no rain today at all—the first such day for some while—although it was stormy close-by over the hills. And of course I am a bit reddish here and there from the sun, though not seriously burned. I remembered to “grease up” fairly early. Although the roads are good, they are dirty, and my shirt was black (from diesel smoke) in places when I got here. I washed it out first thing. Then me—I was black in spots too! Had a pleasant and cheap Thai-food dinner. Happily, I am seeing some smiling faces again, and the atmosphere is getting more rural.

Beach at Hua Hin

Recall I mentioned deterioration of the film which I carried for many weeks before having it developed. This photo is a good example. With about an hour of work, I can enhance it to look like this:

The Beach at Hua Hin, South Thailand, 1968

It looks as though I shall break down and take some pictures of Thailand after all, though I took none—and want none—of Bangkok. There is a nice steam-engine on display here, a 3-cylinder “Superheat” (brand) made in the USA ca. 1920. All the engines I’ve seen seem to be this type. What a delight to see them, and smell hot, wet oil—and burning wood—again.

3-Cylinder “Superheat” (brand) Made in the USA ca. 1920

The Thais maintained these engines wonderfully, even when they were retired and on display.

Between Phetburi and here one passes through an area where a lot of charcoal is made, in curious brick bee-hive-like charcoal ovens. The smell is unlike anything I’ve ever smelled, but is certainly agreeable. Along the beach there are countless small sand-crabs that apparently spend their whole lives digging holes in the sand; that which they displace they make into small balls, which gives whole stretches of the beach a curious “pebbly” appearance. And there are immense jelly-fish, which apparently are harmless, since many people fool with them.

Will probably slow down a bit now that I’m away from BK. The route seems to criss-cross the isthmus several times. My best guess is that I’ll stay, at least overnight if not longer, in Chumpon next, then Ranong or Kapoe, then Phuket (on an island and said to be very pretty). At Kra buri I will apparently be right across the river from Burma. Ranong of course is on the other shore of the Isthmus, but between Krabi and Songhla I will cross back over again through Sadao to Penang (also an island). By then of course I will be in Malaysia. But I rather imagine I shall take at least a week to get there, assuming the “natives are friendly”—or at least more hospitable than in BK. Honda is performing better, but has a whole new group of sounds to get used to. In BK I dismantled the seat, discarding all the springs in it (too stiff) and stuffed a whole foam-rubber pillow into it. Considerably more comfortable than formerly.

Have no address to advise in Singapore. Will probably cable as before. 30 for tonight—early to bed; if I stay here tomorrow it will have to be all day, since the next hop is a long one & will require an early start. But I think I’d better swim here where the weather is good—my experience in Sihanoukville being what it was!

Love to all~

Bruce

________________

Tuesday 8 October

Arose as nearly as I can figure about 7:30 AM. After a leisurely breakfast, I drove around town (which didn’t take long as there is not much of it) a bit, then found a nice beach & went swimming & sunning for the better part of an hour. Couldn’t over-do is as most of me is still pretty unaccustomed to the tropical sun, which will burn very quickly. Poked around the RR station for a while & saw some nice engines. The RR has quite a lot of activity on it.

A very big staple in the diet of all the countries I’ve visited is dried squid; catching & drying them is a big business here. Fresh from the water they are spread out on loosely-woven mats and these are put anywhere the direct sun will strike them. Drying doesn’t take long, but it is a very odoriferous process, as you can imagine.

Drying Squid in Hua Hin, 1968. Pee-yew!

In the afternoon I found a nice road going back into the mountains. Actually, it goes over the first saddle into quite a large valley, perhaps 2-300 feet above sea-level, & meanders around in this before suddenly ending in a cluster of foot-paths, right in the middle of a farm. It was stormy over the mountains further inland, and later the storm moved near town, though only light sprinkles of rain actually hit the town. I took the opportunity to do a bit of cleaning, tuning and checking of the Honda. I’d forgotten to check the spark-plug gaps before leaving BK, and was sure from the performance that they’d been set at the factory recommended 0.024″. For some reason on my machine this results in poor pick-up at wide throttle; re-setting the plugs to 0.020″ cures this nicely, so now I can be a little more sure of response when I twist the handle-grip. On the roads that lie ahead, this probably won’t be needed anyhow. Except for an annoying rattle inside (hence totally inaccessible) the right muffler, all is well. The rattle developed some while ago, & the only cure is a new muffler, which is hardly necessary. I can put up with the rattle, knowing it is not a serious problem. Depart early tomorrow for Chumpon—unless something interesting deters me; — about 267 km distant. Only a little farther than the BK-Hua Hin stretch, but poorer roads (thank goodness—they’re much more fun) so a bit slower going I expect.

Love to all~

Bruce

Next leg of trip: Chumpon. Lots of steam!

Bangkok, Thailand
October 4 1968

Dear all~

I shall again begin this letter today—& heaven knows when—or where—I shall finish & mail it. Received Dad’s letter of 15 Sept/10 Oct this afternoon—the first word I’ve had from home in nearly 2 months. When I first thought PA&E was going to surplus me, I ordered mail forwarded from SF to Robb; in the ensuing weeks of confusion I never changed that, so mail dried up even before I left Saigon. Probably will get things from Glendale tomorrow.

I wrote a letter to Todd & mailed it today. I was a bit caustic, I fear, regarding Bangkok, since my camera and watch (no money) had just been stolen the day before. So far I have retrieved neither and have little hope for it. But even before that happened I was disappointed by Bangkok and its people. The contrast between Cambodia and Thailand is phenomenal; where the Khmers are so wonderfully friendly, spontaneously warm and helpful, the Thais are sullen and cold, not particularly accommodating, and greedy—a bit more-so I think even than the Vietnamese. Prices on nearly everything are frightfully high, and gouging is as frequently encountered as in France—if not more often. If Bangkok today represents the result of close cooperation with (actually, inundation by) America, then I have to agree more strongly than ever with Senator Fullbright—and I have to agree completely with Prince Sihanouk, who wants more than anything else to keep Cambodia Khmer.

BACKSTORY: Bear in mind that I was in Bangkok in 1968. It was, then, on the infamous “R&R” circuit for american soldiers fighting in Vietnam. The Thais built an industry around the R&R concept, designed to part soldiers from as much money as possible and from whatever shred of virginity a few of them might have had left after “20-p alley” encounters in VN. Consequently, since I was the right age, it was assumed I was a soldier on R&R, even though I was riding a motorcycle and entirely on my own. This led to many disappointing encounters, chief of which was the night I treated two youngsters to a “night on the town”. It was, of course, a “set-up”, and the truth is, I was “rolled”. The further truth is it was my own fault, as I had consumed more Singha (delicious Thai beer!) than I should have done. I remained mindful enough to put my wallet, passport and so forth out of reach, but left my trusted pocket-watch in my pants and my camera in plain sight. After we three had had rather desultory sex, we fell asleep—at least, I did. I was awakened some time later when the sound of my room’s door being closed sank through the fog, and I awoke to find the boys gone. Along with my watch and my camera. Shit!

I got the Honda back from the shop yesterday. It has been running well, but the work I had done in Saigon was pretty hap-hazard, what with no parts available for the larger models. (And, that was done 3000 km ago. The bike has over 12000 km on it—it was used when I bought it.) Here, at the Honda branch-factory, everything was at hand. Surprisingly, new cylinders, pistons, rings, bearings & valves, and assorted other small items came to only $57—and it runs like new; in fact, I shall have to break it in all over again. But, as you point out, Singapore is quite a ways from here—about 2500 miles as nearly as I can gather.

I surely shan’t stay in BK ’till the 15th, though, and may depart in the next couple of days, probably missing a little mail thereby. My actual plans are characteristically vague. I shall not replace camera or watch until I reach Penang (a free port); my only retribution against the Thais for the most inhospitable way I’ve been treated here will be to take no photos in their land—and I shall warn everyone I meet who is heading this way to be very careful. I would like to find a small resort with reasonable off-season rates somewhere in Malaysia where I can get the sun I missed in Sihanoukville, but have no particular spot in mind. If I could find a suitable place, I might stay several weeks there. And when I once reach Singapore, the question arises as to where to go from there? Todd once discussed the idea of meeting me in Australia early in the year—but I probably won’t have enuf money left by the time I get to S’pore to do that. Instead I shall probably hop a freighter bound more-or-less for Glendale by Christmas.  This is subject to change—don’t count on it until I get a little closer.

BACKSTORY: When I entered Thailand, I’d received only a ten-day visitor’s visa. It became apparent I would over-stay that without an extension. A chap I had met who was helpful in some ways assured me he could arrange for the extension—for a price. Instead, one morning I consulted my map, found out where Immigration Department was, found out which bus-line would get me there, and set out. The building was old (it has recently been replaced), and I could not read any signs, but by dint of approaching people politely, I was eventually guided to a chap whose desk was in the hallway! He extended the visa as requested, without charge, and sent me on my way. The extension thus cost the few baht on the bus, and the chap who had wanted to get the extension for me was royally pissed when he learned I’d done it myself.

Entry visa, Bottom; Extension Top.

I’ve been delightfully ignoring world news on this tour. I gather Nixon is out-foxing Humphrey for votes—which is not surprising. In a restaurant the other day I picked up a copy of the Bangkok World & read that Long Binh had been hit by 40 VC rockets—must have been spectacular, but “damage was described as light”. If I vote absentee, it will have to be at one of the embassies en-route, and I shall try to manage it.

While I think you are essentially right that Humphrey’s record has been essentially liberal through the years, the effectiveness of his support leaves a lot to be desired as far as I am concerned. The vastness of the task of overhauling so many of america’s policies—so badly needed—exceeds both his capabilities and those of Mr. Nixon (even both together, I think!) There are many people in this part of the world who regret that neither candidate is really committed to the sort of changes that are desired. Many people I’ve talked with are really mystified by America’s policy towards mainland China. Our ostrich-like behavior is widely ridiculed, and the usually-given excuse that “China’s government is not a democratically elected one” is laughed at (as well it might be) because in the context of our recognition of such countries as Russia, Spain, and many others (South Africa, even!) the excuse is simply not germane at all.

I wish you could have seen the current issue of “Kambuja” (Cambodia), the official Cambodian news-magazine. It is, of course, 100% propaganda, except for the last 20 pages of political cartoons reproduced from all over the world. In the context, those dealing with assassination & lack of gun control in the US, and with the abortive Resurrection City incidents in Washington, are particularly devastating. The world is a whole lot smaller place than most americans seem to think, and our little foibles can no more be swept under the rug than can anyone else’s. Many people in this part of the world are far-better read on the US than most people in the US are about this part of the world—and with few exceptions I find people quite impatient with us for not getting on more quickly with the tasks of putting our house in order at home. I wish (and many people have expressed the same sad hope) that either of the current Presidential candidates were more firmly committed to doing just this.

I went to see the first movies I’ve seen on nearly a year last night. “2001″, in Cinerama, in a fine theater here. I thought the price—$1.00—quite reasonable, and found the reason—¾ hr of filmed commercials—after I got inside!! The story-line of the movie I found a bit obscure, as did others, but the photo & model effects are breath-taking and made the movie entirely worth seeing. “Man For All Seasons” is also here & I may take it in, too since the price is reasonable (one can get a seat for 50cts).

Bangkok has the same “over-employment” problem I observed in Denmark. There are always more people than necessary to do a job. The busses have a driver and 2 (sometimes 3) collectors. Delivery-vans never have less than 3 people aboard. Even small restaurants have a half-dozen waiters, and larger places veritable hoards of waiters, assistants, bus-boys, and so forth. The restaurant in the Thai Hotel next door must have a payroll (with cooks, musicians, bar-tenders, waiters, cashiers &c &c) of close to a hundred per shift—and it could not serve any more people than that at one time; the Thai Hotel is not really a tourist hotel on the “circuit”. BK has also developed the american-ism of youth-worship far beyond the extreme to which we have carried it. Whether this is wholly imported or to some extent an expression of some Thai cultural traits I can’t discern. And a new deal (with Krupp, Germany) has just been signed for diesel locomotives to replace the wonderful wood-burners still operating on the Royal Siam RR—alas!

At this point of my letters, probably through remorse that I was not still there, I returned to my wonderful visit to Cambodia, and especially the temple complex. Remember, I am writing in 1968: I’m sure it has radically changed!

You—all of you—must put Angkor on your itineraries for future travels—hopefully soon, before Cambodia is destroyed by “development”. I can heartily assure you that the lack of diplomatic relations with the US will not hinder a trip to Cambodia in any way. There are flights from BK and Phnom-Penh direct to Siem Reap, and there are several excellent hotels. The Auberges Royal des Temples is directly across the moat and road from Angkor Wat, & not ten minutes from the airport. The Grand Hotel is nearer the town & a little cheaper, perhaps, though no less touristy. The Hotel de la Paix where I stayed is just on the fringe of town, & while not luxurious, is clean, comfortable, has good food, and is cheap! Personally, I enjoyed the 6 km ride from town out to Angkor Wat (& the rest of the park); what with trees & such, one arrives at the south portal of A-W very unexpectedly—just all of a sudden, there it is! Arriving from the airport it is visible for the whole distance, & somehow not so impressive, though one does come in at the main (west) gate. The very best time of year, I’m told, is January, when the jungle is still moist but rains are finished. Later as the weather warms up it gets dusty & some sort of pollen apparently settles on everything, making it quite dirty. The view from the Phnom Bakheng is splendid (as it was intended to be!) & worth the climb up, though if desired you can rent elephants to make the ascent. And if it should rain when you are there, go directly to Ta Prohm (do not pass GO!) and experience the incredible eeriness of a jungle-surrounded temple in the midst of a deluge. It is an experience you will never forget, & worth a thousand words. Drive all around the West Baray, also; stop frequently for views from the banks. This is an artificial lake over a thousand years old, created in part to supply the moat for Angkor Wat and mostly for irrigation. It is still in use, though about half of it has been reclaimed by the jungle. The perimeter is 35k m [60 mi], hence in a sense it is one of the largest undertakings of the old Khmer empire. The East Baray, a similar artifice, is only slightly smaller. There are immeasurable fine walking tours to take, to say nothing of climbing about in the temples themselves. And some interesting trips to slightly out-of-the-way temples, too; be sure to see Banteay Srei (a marvelous, though minor temple) and Banteay Samre, notable for its state of preservation (as is Banteay Kdei). Do not spend less than a week in this place—you’ll always regret it if you do, & be sure to wander about the town of Siem Reap (it’s small—you can cover all its major streets in an hour), which is a very typical Khmer town & very little affected by tourism.

5 October 1968

Mail from Glendale arrived today as hoped. There wasn’t much—which is as expected. Dad’s of August 31 (!!), with family photos. miscellaneous odds and ends. Everything is now set, then, to depart Monday for points south—there ought not to be any more mail coming. Very glad to hear everyone is well, & that life goes on apace. Robb will have gathered by now that it is “Singapore or bust” by Honda, not plane, train or bus.

I did a bit of driving about in BK today & saw 3 auto crashes. The Thais drive madly, but seem less adept at dodging each other in the process than the Vietnamese in Saigon! I myself have been involved in a number of crashes on this trip—fortunately, only with dragon-flies. They are a nuisance, and if they fail to dodge you at 80 Km/hr, it smarts! And night driving on a Honda (except perhaps in town) is out, for when the sun goes down, zillions of little gnats (& worse) come up. It can be pretty bad, especially if your face is greased up with tanning-lotion—then all the bugs stick & you soon become a mass of little wings & things. Fortunately I’ve only gotten caught twice,  & then very briefly, having to drive in the dark—and avoid it whenever possible.

Here’s a picture of Phnom Bakheng as it was in 2006:

Phnom Bakheng in 2006

As the letter continued, I found time for a dig at my step-mother:

Tommie: I find printing hopelessly slow. Sorry you have some trouble deciphering my letters, but at least you have something to decipher. I don’t recall having the opportunity of deciphering your own expert hand much since I left the US.

I did go to see “Man For All Seasons” last night, and found it well worth the praise & awards it received. One (or at least I) comes away from it wondering just how much social progress the world has really achieved since those days—the trappings are different, but human-nature is piteously slow to change.

6 October 1968

I wandered through the Erewan Hotel the other day. Had to do it. Of course, I wore shorts for the occasion! It was built about the same time Todd was here. One wonders whether or not that crazy music-review might not have been fact: the chamber-music room of the Erewan now sports a quite new Yamaha grand. The hotel is dated, but spacious—and expensive.

Through a curious set of circumstances, I have recovered the pawn-ticket for my camera, so on the way out tomorrow (today being Sunday) I will pick it up—’twill cost me 70 baht ($3.50). The watch fell into the hands of a thoroughly detestable expatriate american Negro “fence” by the name of Tony Rocca. I’m sure I could buy it back, but I shan’t do so. With american examples like this character around, Thai attitudes are perhaps a bit more understandable—though no less reprehensible.

At all events, I leave Bangkok tomorrow—hopefully forever—thereby perhaps missing a letter form Todd, but it will probably be returned. Since this letter has already developed into 7 pages, I shall mail it tomorrow as I pass the RR Station.

Love to all, of course,
Bruce

BACKSTORY: I was surprised to find the two thieves where I had met them initially—Lumpini Park—and found them seemingly contrite. They admitted stealing the camera and using up the film taking photos of themselves; the film was being developed. They also agreed to take me to the man who had purchased the watch from them. I was able to find a policeman willing to accompany us. But Tony Rocco was a smooth operator, and what with the language barrier, the policemen was no help: what he wanted was a pay-off, and what Rocco wanted was for me to buy back my own watch! By this time I was disgusted with all the players, and unwilling to part with any more money, so I dropped the matter. But the boys had given me the pawn-ticket for the camera, so I was able to retrieve it. Lumpini Park was—and I believe remains—the place for “trade” in Bangkok, much of it rough.

By the way: before leaving BK, I went for one last ride on the old streetcars: I waited in vain, and read in the paper that night that the day before had been their last. There was quite a ceremony, all of which I missed. Damn! Anyone who doubts Bangkok once had streetcars can learn more here.

Bangrak Museum: Street-Car

Coming up: I head south, and find wonderful steam locomotives: stay tuned!

27 September (I think!) 1968
Bangkok, Thailand

Dear Everybody~

After 7 wonderful days in Siem Reap (1 out for Battambang), I departed 25 Sept about 8 am. Siem Reap turned out to be one of the cheapest places I’ve been—7 days, most meals at the Hotel all for $35.00—one of the first times I’ve actually achieved living for $5.00/day! Despite the intense tourist flow (at its lowest ebb in September, thank goodness) Siem Reap is very little spoilt: the relaxed rural atmosphere pervades the town in spite of all the hullaballoo of tourism. Most of the hotels are out of town a bit, which doubtless has something to do with it. But I’ve never relaxed so well as I did here, and I truly hated to leave. As is customary, I wrote a letter to Prince Sihanouk praising the country and the people (and indirectly, him): it was not empty praise, for my 20-day 2800 km tour of Cambodia was a most pleasant & memorable experience.

Seeing Cambodia in its relatively pristine beauty (especially after witnessing the mess in VN, and now that I’ve arrived in Bangkok) makes me feel Sihanouk is right in not wanting his country occupied by Americans. As for its (Cambodia) being a “haven for the VC” I see no evidence to support this, and indeed, much to the contrary. In the provinces near the border the National Police & Army keep things under pretty close watch: I went through a number of these check-points (where the police, astonished by my appearance, were nonetheless unfailingly kind and helpful).

Returning to Siem Reap from Battambang I got a chance to assist a family having trouble with their Corvair (Chevy) automobile—that silly fan-belt arrangement. Getting them on their way eased my conscience, since every time I stopped to rest my machine or myself in Cambodia, someone invariably stopped to make sure I was not broken down & in need of help. This sort of friendliness is all too rare in the world, and it was most refreshing!

BACKSTORY: The folks with the Corvair had passed me at a high rate of speed, nearly blasting me off the highway with the electric-air horn everyone seemed to have in those days. Anywhere else, I have given them the finger, but as I was a guest… Anyway, somewhat further on I began to smell something “hot”: I check the bike carefully, and nothing was wrong, but as I continued on, the smell became more and more noticeable. Presently, as I came around a corner, there it was: the Corvair with its rear boot open, and lots of smoke emanating from it. The Corvair rear-engine Chevy had a fan-belt that ran over four pulleys so it could turn 90º, and it was always a source of trouble on those cars. When the belt wore out or flipped off, the air-cooled engine quickly overheated. I pulled up behind the stricken car just in time to prevent the owner from pouring a bucket of water on the engine (which would surely have cracked something critical by cooling it too rapidly). Using only sign-language, I made it clear he should wait until the engine had cooled naturally before putting on a new belt (which he had). I stayed with it until I could put my hand on the engine without getting burned, then went on my way. Before long I was overtaken, again with a blast of the air-horn, but this time with much waving and many smiles.

Well, as I said, I departed Siem Reap regretfully about 8, and got to Sisiphon & a bit beyond before encountering the first storm. I could have out-run it, except that the road was in poor shape in many spots, so suddenly I was right IN it; stopped at a check-point where I was graciously received—given the only chair in the hut and a beer. The storm passed on, and after about ½ hour I was able to proceed the remaining short distance to the “frontier”. Formalities there took about 10 minutes on the Cambodian side, and about 1½ hrs on the Thailand side; meanwhile more rain.

BACKSTORY: When the rain hit, I pulled up under a large tree to seek whatever shelter it offered, quite unaware that nearby there was a bivouac of Cambodian soldiers. They had a semi-permanent set-up of tents over wooden platforms. There were perhaps a dozen of them, and they traipsed out to greet me, all smiles: I suppose very little in the way of anything happened out there, since the road led to a closed border, so my appearance must have “made their day”. They gave me their “place of honor”, and the first Singha beer I ever drank. Conversation was greatly limited, but as was the case everywhere, they were polite and charming. Once the rain stopped, I went on my way, probably leaving them to discuss my incursion for many days. Who knows? I may have been the subject of an “Official Report”!

(This letter will be continued with the Thailand portion of this blog, yet to come)

REFLECTIONS ON CAMBODIA

The three weeks I spent touring Cambodia were some of the best weeks of my life up to that point, and they rate high in my all-time list as well. I was treated with respect, kindness, and warmth without fail wherever I went in that lovely country, and of course, seeing and poking around in the temples at Angkor was an unforgettable experience.

Cambodia was a country at peace. Granted, the Khmers and the Thais and the Laos and the Viets have been at each other through the ages, but the borders in place when I was there were generally respected (the border with Thailand was closed, although I did cross it). One feature of Cambodia then was that there was no poverty and no begging and no thievery: none! I met a couple touring from Holland, who went off on a bus tour of several days’ duration and realized too late they had l left an expensive camera at the restaurant they’d eaten in the night before leaving. Just on a chance that the camera had been found, they returned to the restaurant when they got back to Phnom Penh, and found the camera exactly where they had left it, untouched! They were greatly impressed!

I mentioned earlier the State magazine; in the english edition I found letters published, written to Norodom Sihanouk. These were from travelers who commented on whatever they had seen while in Cambodia. So, one of the last things I did before departing Siem Reap was to write my own note to the Head of State, telling him how favorably impressed I was with Cambodia. Whether the letter was published I will never know, but to my surprise, I received a reply from Mr. Sihanouk, send through diplomatic pouch to the UN and mailed from New York!

Letter from Norodom Sihanouk, January 1968

Later on, I sent him a copy of the general letter I wrote to “all”, relating my trip, and received another reply from Mr. Sihanouk. His reply makes it clear he had read the letter in some detail.

Letter from Norodom Sihanouk, October 1968

Following my trip through SE Asia, I wound up working in Australia for a while (as will be recounted in due course); upon my return to the US in mid 1970, I was appalled to see on the TV places I had been in Cambodia being bombed to smithereens when “tricky dick” Nixon widened the already-doomed Vietnam war into Cambodia. Once again, I wrote to Mr. Sihanouk expressing my shock and regret over what had transpired: I addressed the letter simply to “Norodom Sihanouk, Peking, China”, as I had learned he had retreated there. Without a more specific address, I expected no reply, but to my surprise, he answered the letter by telegram!

“Please accept my thanks for your friendly letter stop cordial consideration”

The destabilization of Cambodia brought about by Nixon’s illegal incursion into a sovereign nation should have brought impeachment, but it did not. And the rest, as they say, is “history”—a horrible history, as it turned out, for whom no one has ever really been called to account. The wonderful Cambodia I found in 1968 no longer exists, although the monuments at Angkor do.

Cover of Guide to Angkor Which I Used

NOTE TO READER(S): I will be away for several weeks on a trip to Pennsylvania and back. I will resume blogging when I am back home in San Francisco. Thailand was my next advanture. Stay tuned,

Change we can bereave in

I have a real knack for breaking computers and software; if anyone can force a “restart”, I can! So, while my blog is being rebuilt by an expert (in a new and better format), I’ll take this moment to post my next “occasional rant”.

/rant mode ON

Readers of this blog will be well aware how delighted I was that Barack Obama was elected as President. Alas, the bloom is off the rose. As with most politicians, once in office, he has found it convenient to forget many of his campaign promises. There’s nothing new about this, but like many others, I believed Barack was somehow “different”.

And, different he is. His ability to string together a group of words to form a sentence is *so refreshing after 8 years of Bush’s incoherent ramblings. But George could keep his party in line (with Cheney as “enforcer”): Mr. Obama seems  unable to bring the democrats into line to give him the support any president needs to succeed. Perhaps those who thought he should remain in the Senate a few more years before running for President were right.

Making the war in Afghanistan his own will prove to be a terrible mistake. The Afghanis have successfully driven out every invader of their territory, starting with Alexander the Great! We should go. Now! The money we spend there now could buy up the entire poppy production for years; we could refine the product into useful morphine, and **burn the rest of it. The money could then be spent by the Afghanis as they see fit.

If one accepts the need to sacrifice 30K more men to this fruitless enterprise, (I don’t) he could at least have taken the opportunity to explain that to get that many men into uniform we will have to accept men and women regardless of their sexual orientation: no dice.

As for the group of jerks we collectively call Congress, they should all be utterly ashamed of themselves. Harry Reid is a wimp. The Senate majority “whip” (Dickless Durbin) couldn’t swat a fly. After months of wrangling, the bought-and-paid-for in the Senate have destroyed current hopes of a true reform of health care and have delivered the American public into the hands of the insurance and pharmaceutical industries. Against a proven majority, the Republinuts have won!

President Obama should long ago have made it clear he will not sign a health-care bill that does not included a “robust” public option. He should do so immediately, even though it is probably too late.

The list of visages on the TV that make me want to vomit has grown very large in recent days. It began with George Bush, whose appearance always made me switch channels lest I blow chunks on the carpet. He’s now been joined by John “Beaner” and Mitch McConnell, both right up there with Sarah “Pailin” and turn-coat Joe Lieberman. *Especially Joe Lieberman, raking in millions to deliver health-care to the “industry”. What a jerk!

Here’s my opinion of the whole friggin lot of politicians in Washington, who with almost no exceptions are willing to sell the population down the river to save their own fat perks.

(photo)

/rant mode OFF

I have a real knack for breaking computers and software; if anyone can force a “restart”, I can! So, while my blog is being rebuilt by an expert (in a new and better format), I’ll take this moment to post my next “occasional rant”.

/rant mode ON

Readers of this blog will be well aware how delighted I was that Barack Obama was elected as President. Alas, the bloom is off the rose. As with most politicians, once in office, he has found it convenient to forget many of his campaign promises. There’s nothing new about this, but like many others, I believed Barack was somehow “different”.

And, different he is. His ability to string together a group of words to form a sentence is so refreshing after 8 years of Bush’s incoherent ramblings. But George could keep his party in line (with Cheney as “enforcer”): Mr. Obama seems unable to bring the democrats into line to give him the support any president needs to succeed. Perhaps those who thought he should remain in the Senate a few more years before running for President were right.

Making the war in Afghanistan his own will prove to be a terrible mistake. The Afghanis have successfully driven out every invader of their territory, starting with Alexander the Great! We should go. Now! The money we spend there now could buy up the entire poppy production for years; we could refine the product into useful morphine, and burn the rest of it. The money could then be spent by the Afghanis as they see fit.

If one accepts the need to sacrifice 30K more men to this fruitless enterprise, (I don’t) he could at least have taken the opportunity to explain that to get that many grunts into uniform we will have to accept men and women regardless of their sexual orientation: another chance missed.

As for the group of jerks we collectively call Congress, they should all be utterly ashamed of themselves. Harry Reid is a wimp. The Senate majority “whip” (Dickless Durbin) couldn’t swat a fly. After months of wrangling, the bought-and-paid-for in the Senate have destroyed current hopes of a true reform of health care and have delivered the American public into the hands of the insurance and pharmaceutical industries. Against a proven majority, the Republinuts have won!

President Obama should long ago have made it clear he will not sign a health-care bill that does not included a “robust” public option. He should do so immediately, even though it is probably too late.

The list of visages on the TV that make me want to vomit has grown very large in recent days. It began with George Bush, whose appearance always made me switch channels lest I blow chunks on the carpet. He’s now been joined by John “Beaner” and Mitch McConnell, both right up there with Sarah “Pailin” and turn-coat Joe Lieberman. Especially Joe Lieberman, raking in millions to deliver health-care to the “industry”. What a jerk!

Here’s my opinion of the whole friggin lot of politicians in Washington, who with almost no exceptions are willing to sell the population down the river to save their own fat perks.

Our politicians aren’t worth even this much…

/rant mode OFF

In 1965, the National Geographic had an article about Saigon, in which this photo appeared. The well-lit building is identified as the “Abraham Lincoln Library, a facility of the United States Information Service”. Now that I think on it, the USIS did indeed have the ground floor as I recall, but the rest of the structure was the Rex BOQ. The corrugated cover over the “rooftop club” had not been erected when this photo was taken. Le Loi Boulevard is at the right, heading southwest.

This map, also from the June, 1965 issue of the National Geographic will help my readers identify some of the places I’ve mentioned so far. Much of the city was essentially off-limits to a tall american like myself: I stood head and shoulders above everyone in a Vietnamese crowd, and as such was perfect sniper-bait. I continued with my letters—here are the next two:

21 April 1968

Dear Everyone~

I’m still using up this small paper that was all I could get when I first got here. Now that Xerox copies aren’t being made of my letters, I guess it’s OK.

Todd remarks in his last letter that the word I had in-tended to use was beaucoup. Now, “beaucoup” is correct as far as French goes, but it has been transliterated into Vietnamese as Boo Coo. Oddly I have been able to discover only two words of french origin that have come into every-day use by the Vietnamese, boo coo being one and “fini” being the other. But of course there are boo coo English words now coming into the language, one of the more amusing being “cao boi”. One reads about the Saigon cowboys in the states from time to time—they’re the Vietnamese equivalent of our “gangs”, and the starting point for their excursions is quite obviously american TV and movies. It is amusing. if rather tragic, to see some of them all dolled up in wild clothing (”Mod” is in vogue here right now)—and not one of them tall enough to reach my arm-pit. For the most part, they occupy themselves with minor thievery, draft evasion, and such, and so far have not gotten into the big-time dope and all that. SInce marijuana is indigenous and used at times by most everyone, there’s certainly no future in that!

The week here has been fairly uneventful. It is clear that any program I have hopes of establishing must wait until Dan Smythe goes—which should be fairly soon according to all the indications I can get. He simply has no vision whatever, and will delegate no responsibility. The operations group has been moved out of the lab, so now I have an office and a desk. By virtue of rescuing a typewrite from the PDO (Property Disposal Officer) and rebuilding it myself, I also have a typewriter. So far, no filing cabinet, and no supplies to work with whatever. When people bring in samples, I just tell them to report to their installation manager or commanding officer (as the case may be) that we are non-functional due to lack of supplies and I’m very sorry we can’t do anything for them. This alone should eventually bring about some pressure to get out from behind the eight-ball, probably about the time I finish my 18 months.

Dan’s latast bug is that I am supposed to visit all the PA&E installations on a sort of PR mission to tell them what the lab will someday be able to do for them, etc., etc. But as I see it, this is putting the cart before the horse: I concieve of myself looking ridiculous with a line like that, and would much rather make the tour armed with instructions and so forth showing capability NOW to do this that and the other, and please comply.

The weather remains about the same. Scattered showers now and then for brief periods, and continued warm. I am enjoying perfect health as the warmth seems to agree with me surprisingly well.

Looked for the April issue of National Geographic yesterday, but the March issue is still on the stands here at the equivalent of $1.50, yet! I assume it is the April Issue that has the article on Saigon, and it isn’t due here for another  day or so.

Todd’s letter expressed surprise about my finding a stamp-store in Saigon. You must understand that with the exception of the curfew, now 9PM to 6AM it is business as usual in Saigon, and  in the down-town section there are stores of every description open and doing a thriving business. Products from all over the world are readily available at fairly reasonable prices, if one shops around for them. There are at least three stamp stores down there, and I’ve passed others in various part of town. Everything is terribly overcrowded, and there are times when one can hardly move—walking—on the streets. The only businesses hurting now are the bars and prostitutes, since military passes are scarce, and the bars must close about 8:30. Now that Abrahms is to take over from Westy, there will be a wholesale removal of military from Saigon—a welcome and wholesome idea as far as I can see, but it will mean quite a bit of re-training of Vietnamese people when they go!  Apparently, Long Binh will become the military center for this area—already a large expansion program is under way to accommodate the influx.

Replying to Dad’s question, I still plan to get an 8mm movie camera, and possibly an inexpensive tape machine so I can send narratives along with the films. So far I haven’t had much time to explore this, though. Our PX privileges are limited to items $25.00 or less (recently upped from $10.00), which will allow for an adequate (though hardly hi-fi!) tape machine. The camera I have to get on the local economy, which will require some shopping ’round—and so far I haven’t even seen the model I want.

Luv again~

Bruce

As the next letter describes, I found and rented an apartment. Essentially, it was a single large room with a balcony looking out over Le Loi Boulevard. The “kitchen” had been stuffed into what was originally a closet, and was essentially non-functional. I opened the cupboard under the sink there and saw numerous beady eyes looking back (huge roaches). So I said, “OK fellas: I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me!”—I never went near the kitchen again! The bathroom was off in a corner, rather rudimentary, with only cold water. Where the toilet emptied I never wanted to find out!

Sat.

27 April 68

Dear everyone~

Well, quite a lot has happened this week—nothing really earth-shaking, but enough to keep me busy!

Monday evening our bus broke down on the outskirts of Saigon (Gia Dinh), and I guess they didn’t get it fixed overnight, because it didn’t show Tuesday AM. So, I took the opportunity to look for an apartment. The owner of the Hotel I’ve been in since reaching Saigon decided rather suddenly to convert it to apartments, and the prices he proposed to charge for them were outrageous, so I decided to move. I found quite a nice studio apt right downtown, a bit closer downtown than I really wanted, but too nice and convenient to pass up. The new address is 49/1é Etage Dai Lo Le-Loi. That’s No 49, upstairs, first floor, Boulevard LeLoi, in English! The cross street, if you have the Nat’l Geographic map handy, is Pasteur. The Long Binh bus comes in LeLoi and turns out Pasteur in the morning, and comes in Cong-Ly to Le-Loi in the evening, so I’m much better located in that respect. Can sleep until 0600, get ready and go to breakfast at the Rex BOQ (corner LeLoi & Nguyen Hue), and catch the bus just before seven AM: in the evening, barring hold-ups on the hiway, I’m back to the apartment by 1800. All this is really a big improvement over former location. The place has a ti ti kitchen, reefer, and all conveniences except hot water—and I intend to rectify that just as soon as I can!

As if to answer my question whether or not electrical storms are known here, we’ve had three this week already! Monday night’s was a ways off but quite a show; Thursday there was another visible from LB, and some rain there. But this afternoon, mua mua (monsoons) hit Saigon for the first time, really. It took me (and a lot of others!) by surprise: about 4 I stepped on to a bus bound for the Cho Lon PX; it was just spitting a little then, and didn’t look like it would amount to much. Within a few minutes, it really began to pour, and walking the fifty-odd yards from the bus-stop into the PX I got SOAKED to the skin. It continued like that for close to two hours; I got re-soaked getting back to the bus—by this time the PX yard was 6 inches deep in water. We drove through foot-deep water on the way back into town, and there were, of course, jillions of stalled cycles, cars, trucks and so forth all along the way. I got drenched again going from the bus stop to the apartment, and after shedding my wet clothes, stood in my front window to watch the pandemonium on Le-Loi BouIevard for awhile—it, too was nearly a foot under water in places. About 1545 I stretched out for a nap—and when I awoke an hour later the rain had stopped and the street was clear of water! it is still wet out, but not raining, and the temperature is now about 70 degrees—quite delightfully cool by Saigon standards. Amidst all the rain, there was much lightning—some of it struck very close to the PX when I was there: quite noisy and spectacular.

We are all expecting another Tet-type offensive by the VC on or about May 1. You may hear of it before I, as before! Hopes for any real peace-talks are dimming rapidly here. Radio Hanoi has, predictably, been making propaganda hay out of Johnson’s hedging on the location, as any idiot would expect them to do: I am as inclined as they to suspect his motives, in view of his shifting positions. It has been said by some that China has nearly fifteen Divisions of troops stationed along the NVN border to assure that Hanoi will not go to any peace talks. Naturally, with our absurd policy towards China, there is no way for us to properly assess their role in this whole thing. The big question that nearly everyone gets ’round to asking after being here any length of time is when—in Heaven’s name—are we going to wake up? And if we ever do, will it be, as usual, too late?

It’s about time I turned in. All is quiet now. There were six mysterious explosions around town (probably incoming rockets) about 0230 this AM but then all was quiet again. What tonight holds no one knows, as usual. My friends in the Bamboo Telegraph tell me the VC won’t do anything this time  but, as with all that one hears here, I don’t rely on that much: it’s a perpetual game of “wait and see”.

Love to all

Bruce

More letters coming up!

Here is the last letter I wrote from Vietnam before departing. I was disillusioned, annoyed for having wasted nearly eight months with nothing to show for it. I was also itching to get on my way to Cambodia, where (at the time) peace prevailed.

Friday, 30 August 1968
Dear everyone~

After the last letter I wrote, I don’t think any of you will be surprised to learn that I finally resigned from PA&E. I just can’t face 11 months of wasting my time and the government’s money, no matter how much of the latter they might pay me. The lab program is a dead horse no matter how one views it, and any attempts to revive it (within the framework of PA&E) is an excercise in futility. The company is falling apart. More adverse publicity at home. A group of disgruntled former employees who went out in the course of the Qui Nhon debacle have formed a consortium of sorts to bring a lot of pressure from back home, as well as suits. There’s much talk of a stop-work injunction being sought. The whole affair stinks, and I’ve had all I can stand of it.

The deed is done, and plans are well along for the trip to Bangkok. The paperwork involved in getting out of VN is worse than that required to get in. Supposedly I will get my exit visa on Wednesday, and my ticket to Phnom Penh; I should get my Cambodian Visa on Thursday, and I’m booked to leave the same day on the 4 PM flite. This is cutting it pretty thin, but there is another flite Friday (no more ’till Teusday ff.) that I maybe can take if some hitch occurs on the Thursday one. Airlifting the bike is costing more than airlifting me—naturally, as it weighs more than I do. But the entire fare is less than 65 bucks for both of us, and the approx. 20 kilos of luggage I’m taking along. Am sending one large suitcase unaccompanied, as I think I mentioned before: that will cost about 12 bucks.

What with the transfer, my word to the post office a month ago, and other difficulties (not the least of which is that the PA&E mail room can’t seem to understand the difference between EMD and ECMD), I got a big wad of mail yesterday: a card from the folks in Canada, two letters from Todd (both written prior to one other later one that came straight through), the family letter from the southern branch, and two letters from Willie in Qui Nhon, the chap I roomed with through the Tet days in Jan & early February. I rather think there may be more letters from the folks wandering around somewhere.

I picked up a used Instamatic camera cheap. Just my sort of thing, no adjustments of any kind. A go/ no-go type light meter built in. Nothing fancy, but ought to provide some record of the trip. I have a tentative arrangement with a motorcycle enthusiast’s magazine in the states to publish an article on my trip, so you may eventually be able to “read all about it!” Of course they want some photos, too. Their most recent report of this sort was by a man & his wife who took a BMW with sidecar(!) from Brighton, England to Sydney, Australia. (Part of the way was by boat…)

The enclosed photos (please circulate) were taken this morning: I lashed on all my gear just to see how it looks and how the bike rides with it in place. I can’t even feel it there, and there is no effect on the handling. It takes me only a few minutes to drop it all off, buckle the saddlebags together and flop them over the grip, giving me a neat single-handle package to carry into hotels, etc. Fortunately, I learned the art (and the value!) of traveling light while in Europe. Better than half the weight of what I am taking is in tools, spare items, tire patching kit, etc. Having had the engine overhauled, I don’t expect much difficulty. but I’m ready for it. Oriental craftsmen, though hopelessly slow by our standards, are resourceful, and they can—and frequently do—manufacture parts that are not otherwise available. There are many pre-WWII motorcycles still in regularly use here, machines that parts are hard to find for even in Europe now I would guess. It is a paradise for seekers after vintage machines, though generally owners are reluctant to part with their venerable machines. Can’t say that I blame them—I’ve seen a number of large old bikes that I would enjoy having in my stable if I were permanently located somewhere.

But my Honda should take me nicely along to BK. It is light a enuf machine that it does not have to be “herded”, and so is not so fatiguing on the long runs, but is still heavy enuf to take me and my luggage without strain. I’m still running in the new parts, so the first 500 miles will be at under 40 mph, though 50 is altogether fast enuf under any circumstances for a conservative motorcyclist like myself. Needless to say, there is NO place where one can go that fast—or anywhere near it— in Saigon: if it were possible to get out into the VN countryside. though, it could be done.  There, the faster the better, because a fast target is harder to hit!

I have to spend many hours searching for trinkets to send along home. As I am sure Robb  can attest, there is really nothing available here though that is worth the cost or trouble. The little native art available is usually quite bulky, and nearly all the small stuff is either made in HK or Japan. In Cambodia, far away from this scene, the situation may well be different: I hope so!

This is the last of my letters to be routinely distributed: henceforth we will resort to the Xerox approach, through the good efforts of the folks. I am selling my typewriter, radio, linen, etc., to a friend tonite, and move to a hotel tomorrow AM in order to close down the apartment on the last day of the month. I believe you can send mail to me c/o American Express, Bangkok: but I would reserve that for essential items only, knowing that they are probably as disorganized there as in Europe. Better wait ’till I get there then send along whatever has come in one package (along with whatever has been returned from here).

Thus, if all goes well (and in the Orient one is never quite sure) the next communique should be from Phnom Penh!

The Demo[cratic Convention] debacle is all over, and the outcome was quite as predicted. Odd that both candidates chose running-mates that no one had ever HEARD of before. McCarthy’s failure, also quite predictable, is going to have repercussions long after the fact though. Given the current choice, and barring additional assassinations, I think I shall sit hi one out.

It is particularly unfortunate that the elections and associated falderal have overlooked the really best alternative here in VN. There might have been a time when I would have argued that communism is less of a threat than we seem to think, and that recent indications are that “varieties” of communism are cropping up, tending to reduce the world-domination threat. Czechoslovakia pretty well proves that this is naive (and it certainly shot McCarthy down in flames!).

The alternatives presented by the two parties seem to be: Dem’s will continue Pres J’s policies without substantial change, pressing for negotiations to solve the problems here. The Republicans are couching the SAME approach in slightly different terms, so there is really no alternative at all. McCarthy and followers, at the opposite extreme, advocate the pull-out and coalition bit. It is sad that (largely out of ignorance, I think) so few people see that there IS another alternative. Not a very pretty one, perhaps, but one that seems increasingly necessary in the light of current events.

The achilles heel of our VN policy since early in JFK’s career had been our policy of gradualism; a more misguided policy I cannot imagine. General Taylor (who seems to have been the author of it, and who sold first Kennedy then Johnson on its “merits”) ought to be hung for treason and a whole lot of other things. I don’t see how anyone can dispute the obvious fact that the ONLY deterrent that communism understands as such is superior FORCE—force that is ready at all times, and that is known to be in a position where any overt action will be met with an overwhelmingly superior reaction. The absurdity of the VN war has been that 30 billion bucks annually has not produced this force, because gradualism dictates that any enemy action is only MET, not STOPPED. Had this been our policy when we entered WWII, Hitler would probably now be Führer of america and much, much more. Because we dilute and twitter away our strength waiting for the enemy to engage us (at his whim and when he feels ready), our costs soar, the local economy bogs down, corruption flourishes, and all the other ills that have popped out of Gen Taylor’s Pandora’s Box labelled “Gradualism” bloom across the land.

I do not see ANY of the major (or minor) parties this year as understanding this point at all, and none of them have stepped forth with the only plan that can really end this thing. We do not have to escalate at all: we need only re-deploy (and effectively utilize) what is already here. It should begin in Paris with a clear ultimatum to Hanoi: withdraw at once from South VN and the demilitarized zone, or face massive, coordinated drives to eliminate them. And in Saigon, we must inform Pres. Thieu that from here on out, it is play for keeps, and if some South Vietnamese happen to get in our way, it’s too bad: the picnic is over. Either play it our way (having invited us in in the first place) or GO IT ALONE. But the crux lies in our repudiating the policy of gradualism: we MUST assert ourselves—and quickly—or go down in History ignominiously as a nation of masochists who bent over and BEGGED both the South and the North to “sock it to us”. There is ABSOLUTELY NO REASON why 30 billion dollars should not have ended this war a long time ago, except that it has been so miserably mis-spent. Unless we start spending it wisely, this will be a bottomless pit into which we will continue to pour billions—and lives—at an ever increasing (”gradually increasing”) rate: when at last our own economy breaks from the strain, communism will move in grinning, because it has gone all according to (their) plan.

If the foregoing diatribe sounds strong, it is mainly because I am not only appalled, I am ASHAMED by the way we have bungled this whole affair, and I would like as much as anyone else to see it ended. Both parties talk about ending the war “honorably”. But communism (understand that I use that word in a wide sense meaning present-day soviet-style communism) knows nothing—NOTHING— of “honor”, as we understand it. Berlin, Korea, Hungary, now Czechoslovakia, China, Yemen, all these countries and more show that honor is something that is meaningless to communism as it is presently constituted. Communism, once entrenched, has NEVER been successfully over-thrown. It will continue to expand just as fast as its economies allow—unless it encounters some obstacle: that obstacle will (can) only be a force (and economic strength to back it up) that is clearly superior, and which is KNOWN to be ready and willing to defend itself “offensively”. It worked in Cuba: that was before “gradualism” came to the fore.

The defense of gradualism really boils down to the question of nuclear weapons. The possession of, and WILLINGNESS TO USE, IF NECESSARY an arsenal of deployed nuclear weapons really obviates a large ground force. Gradualism is a way to keep the necessity for a ground force alive (thus perpetuating handsomely the “military-industrial complex” that Mr. Eisenhower spoke of). We should stand up now and say, Hell Yes we will use nuclear weapons (again)—if we feel it necessary. Just to prove the point we ought to set off a small-yield one right here in VN, in the remotest area we can. The second one could be right on Hanoi—except I feel certain there would be no need for it. I don’t think for the moment the communists are “chicken”—they’re just smart, and if they actually thought (better, knew for sure) that if they fooled with us we would wipe them out, they would pull in their horns and be quite happy with what they have now.

You will say I advocate escalation of the cold war. Precisely. A cold war does not kill people. A hot one (even if it is not a “declared” war, even if it is a “limited” war, or whatever euphemism one may choose) does kill people. IF we are so firmly committed to saving of human lives (as is so oft said) then we MUST embrace the cold-war approach. Certainly it is dangerous. Are we possibly afraid that we are not smart enough to take on the soviets verbally? Teddy was right: speak softly and carry a big stick—AND be ready and willing to use it. Bullies will invariably bow to this situation—it is human nature NOT to risk your neck if you KNOW you can’t win!

Well! Enough of that! I hope you are all well.

Later:

Folks:

There is not much to add, actually. We’ll be out of touch for a while, sort of: in fact I don’t really advocate writing until I reach BK. The Cambodian visa is good for only 3 weeks, but I imagine I will use it up. Plan to spend several days just lolligagging on the beach at Sihanoukville, trying to unwind from this altogether unhappy affair here. Then will spend most of the rest of my time in & around Siem Reap, near Angor, poking around among ruins, etc.

Pls circulate the enclosed photos. Keep track of Xerox charges, though I probably won’t be sending more than three or four letters from Cambodge. Will get a typewritier again as soon as I reach BK in order to prepare the MS for the magazine.

Love to all~
Bruce

_____________________

Can you tell I was “fed up”?

As for Sihanoukville, it was rainy and cold! But that’s far ahead. I have to get out of Vietnam, first. That tale is coming up soon.

. . .  FUCKS ME AGAIN!

A week later, a new trauma!

5 March 1968
Hello—

Well, the IRS has done it again. The enclosed are more or less self-explanatory. With 10,000 miles between us, they’re lucky, because if they’d pulled this with me there I’d have blown 450 Golden Gate’s roof off as soon as I could get over there. As it is, I think my letters may convey some dissatisfaction with these events—and who knows? may even get some results!

What really tees me off is that I struggled to get that paid off before I left just so it wouldn’t be hanging over my head—and here it is right back on me again. Further, I have obligations to the bank (the loan) which will of course be more than fully covered as soon as my first paycheck comes through, which should be in a few days.

The typed copy is a copy of the hand[written]-job I actually sent, typed tonight on a Remington I borrowed from the hotel—but it has a VN keyboard that’s really weird, hence all the goofs! As they say here, “Sin Loi” (essentially, sorry about that!).

If I never earn another taxable cent in the U. S., it will be too G– D—– soon!!!

Agitatedly!!
Bruce

Here are the enclosures:

Fickle Finger Letter – page 1

page 2

Even after 41 years, I feel obliged to redact these: I don’t trust the IRS not to come after me once again! But the supreme irony here is that, moments after I mailed the letters irretrievably, I remembered who Mr. S. E. XXXX was: he was handicapped, with a withered hand. My remark about his “left hand not knowing what his right hand was doing” must have struck him as intentional, although in fact it was not. Whatever: the matter lay buried in his in-basket as long as he could safely leave it there before my money was refunded.

The fact is, I was royally pissed by this event! But, other than write letters, I could do nothing. It turned out the very last payment I gave the IRS just before leaving for VN was posted to someone else’s account, so my account turned up unpaid. This was proved by the various numbers on the cancelled check, and eventually I got my money.

Note my reference to getting my first paycheck: we were paid in arrears, that is, after each month’s “work” had been completed. There was an additional couple of weeks while time-sheets were recorded and so forth, then the checks were sent to our designated banks and a memo came to us in VN. Our per-diem came in the form of MPCs and some Dong. Oddly enough, we could—and did—write checks on our accounts states-side and use them in country (to pay rent, for example). But we could not cash them for US Green.

I’ll be back with more about these fascinating times in a few days.

July 3, 2009

INFO

I presume my readers know that to keep up with this blog they have to click on the last listed entry over there at the right. This blog opens to the same page every time, so navigate to the latest if you are keeping up. Also, email addy is [email protected] and I am always pleased to hear from my readers.

MEDICAL UPDATE

I had my first and last post-op exam by the surgeon yesterday. He says I’m fine, and he’s right. I still have a little bit of soreness around a couple of the incisions, but I know this will go away. Altogether, the removal of my gall bladder was close to being a non-event!

MICHAEL JOE

I suppose way back somewhere I saw MJJ and thought it might be interesting to know more about him, particularly what he looked like sans clothing. But as for following his career or becoming any kind of MJJ groupie, it was not on. I don’t get along well with “Type A” individuals, and at least when on stage, MJJ struck me as a Type AAAA. And since I know nothing about dancing, his moves always looked frantic, often as if he was having a fit of some kind.

Somewhere along the line I did find a recording of his ballad, “She’s Outa My Life”, and I really liked it: I still play in now and then. But as time went on, there’s no denying MJJ got more than a little “strange”. The tragedy of his untimely demise lies in his inability to control his intake of drugs, and there was no one with enough power over him to stop the carnage until it was too late. I hope his tortured soul really is at rest now.

TATS

I’ve mentioned before that tattoos, generally, put me off. All this hype on TV, with entire series devoted to tats and tatters leaves me cold: many of the designs are over the top, and woe be unto any who decide they should be removed!

TANGLE WITH THE INFERNAL REVENUE SERVICE

Johnny and I bought a house together in 1962. We were both gainfully employed (he teaching, I an analytical chemist); it cost us $17,000. We worked it over, then traded up to something larger. But as it became apparent our relationship was going down in flames, one night in 1964, in a drunken rage he made me quit claim to the property and chased me out at knife-point. To make matters worse, he burned most of the deeds and other paperwork involved. Nevertheless, he was able to sell the place shortly thereafter (it was planned!) and pocketed about $40,000 . He drank that up in just a few years; but, I digress.

That year I filed my income tax and claimed a sizable loss on the property. Three years later, in 1967, the IRS objected, pointing out I had no proof: all that burnt paperwork came back to haunt me. The IRS concluded that I owed them the princely sum of $1800, and I was forced to agree that I did. I was willing to pay it, except that the IRS demanded I borrow the money from a bank at 8% interest. My position was the IRS was charging 6%, and there was no reason a bank should make money on my misfortune. [Imagine 8% interest at a bank in those days!}

The upshot was a series of meetings with low-level functionaries who tried to cajole me into taking out a loan. Throughout, I maintained that I would pay the amount owed, but over time, plus the 6%: there was enough “slop” in my budget that I could spare something each month: I was pretty much living from paycheck to paycheck, as my salary was not all that great. But, the IRS would have none of it, and the more they pushed, the more stubborn I got. I quickly realized they have no ability to deal with someone who simply says “no” and refuses to budge. I used to load up on aspirin: I was like a zombie, and no matter what they offered, my answer was consistently “NO”.

Someone told me I could take a person with me to those meetings, and did not even have to introduce them. The theory was that if there was a witness to their coercive tactics, they would not be applied. So I set it up with a friend of mine: he was a large fellow, a clerk in a dime store, but he had one good suit and an imposing cough. The IRS would harangue, I would say something like I was going to yield, and Jim would cough loudly: then I would say NO! It drove the poor interviewer nuts, but got us nowhere.

Another time, after several guys had taken turns at me, I decided to “lose it”: without warning I jumped up and shouted loudly, “Why don’t you guys just take me out in the hall and shoot me? Put an end to all this shit.” (And so forth) Jeezus! We were in a room full of cubicles, so everyone  heard me, and for a moment, I thought they might take my recommendation! Such a hub-bub. But it got us nowhere.

Then there was the day we finally came to some sort of agreement, and the interviewer wrote it up long-hand on a special pad with carbon-paper (remember carbon-paper?) and told me to sign it. I was about to, when I noticed printed boldly along the bottom, this line:

THIS AGREEMENT IS NOT LEGALLY BINDING ON ANY OF THE SIGNATORIES HERETO

Say what? They explained that was to protect their interest so if I were to have a wind-fall, they could take their share out of it. I explained that it was no contract at all, and tore it up and threw the fragments at them. Whooooie! They were pissed!

The resolution came when I decided to devote an entire day to getting this thing off my back. When I reached an impasse with the first interviewer, I demanded to see his Supervisor. When I got nowhere there, I demanded to see his Supervisor, and so on up the ladder. About five rungs up, I was allowed to explain the whole problem to a fellow sitting behind a desk: I repeated my offer to pay over time with their 6% interest.

“That sounds reasonable to me,” he said. He wrote it up, and it was a done deal I’d won!

DISILLUSIONED

The whole mess with the IRS put me right off. Work was getting boring. Money was tight, especially with monthly payments to the IRS. I needed a change. One weekend I visited my older brother in Southern California, and was perusing ads in the LA Times. On a lark more than anything else, I responded to an opening for a chemist in VietNam, and promptly forgot about it.

Several months later, I got a call in my office: “Are you ready to go to VietNam?”

Well, no I wasn’t, but I quickly decided I sure as heck could be!

What happened next will be my next page.