Twice as bitter as salt.
And if you get hooked, baby... it's nobody else's fault.
Yes I know I have anachronisms flying all over the place already but I couldn't find any late 60's people in cocaine ads or rapping about it for you. Regardless, I've grown tired of the stale MDA/MDMA hogwash we volley back and forth forever and wish to look into other intoxicants. It's like we bathe in cognitive dissonance at times.
Anecdotally, and therefore proving true everything I say afterward, MDMA and MDA were somewhat difficult to consistently score when I arrived fresh and dumb as they make 'em from Tecumseh Hollow at The World at the end of the 80's in the wee hours preceding gentrification.
Oppositely, dimes and twenties of cocaine were available (conservatively) at every third bodega you passed. A transaction was typically accompanied by an off brand parting gift to make things look good. There was a spot on E. 3rd St. with a city trash can out front filled with unopened cans of soda. I always wondered if the bodega people retrieved the cans and placed them back inside their coolers.
Lingering while pondering things like that was an extremely bad idea fyi. The door guard for the motorcycles was always watching. Tough guys on that street for sure. They'd sometimes get their payback when locals caught them off the block but not often.
Before I tell you the story of the rest of my life, let's jump into our bitchin' time machine and talk about a scene that was happening in Los Angeles during the gruesome summer of 1969.
And listen you can still be right about everything after reading what comes next. Have no fear. I'm here to create content not argue unknown history. I know it's totally outlandish but let's pretend for an insane moment we live in a distant parallel universe where recreational drug users prefer little sexy bumps of energy off beautiful people's bodies in locked restrooms over dingy dehydrations and pills with weird names like mescaline that last eight nauseous hours and come from a stinky guy whose fake name supposedly means wind in some far off language even though he's as white as Christmas.
His apartment smells like cat pee but I know you know that already.
She's ready for the David Bowie concert. Peace and love is dead in the metro areas. Strummer is already dreaming up perfect lines on his quest to ignite dry sticks beneath Beatlemania. Take a hike with the drugs no one does and purchase yourself a little gold spoon.
Peruse this Los Angeles Times article from July 25, 1969. Note the cocaine dealer is twenty-one years old. Kids are selling it to their contemporaries and also undercover cops. Blow is everywhere in the cities if you go by arrests and seizure reports in newspapers. The Wiltshire address below is exactly 10.8 miles away from Rudi's place on Cielo where Jay Sebring had cocaine with him the night he died.
Since you're settled in, wanna see something wild from a Long Beach paper the day Charlie either did or did not shoot Crowe? That $7 million is the equivalent of just under $52.3 million right now. In case you are unaware, the dude drinking for free at the end of the sports pub bar can't get you that much from his guy with a quick text. You gotta know somebody.
I bet she was woman of the month. Reading that made my gums numb.
Btw, I watched the new George Stimson episode last week. He says Linda arrived at the Ranch July 1st. I believe that's one of the three dates I commonly see given for the Crowe shooting. Busy little bees. What are your thoughts on the episode and podcast in general. I like his presentations.
Smooth ride to die in, I suppose. I have Jambalaya on an LA playlist I listen to a lot lately. Hank transcends genre.
And was also mixed up in some stuff apparently. I would not be shocked to find out I'm a distant cousin of the college student driver named Carr and even Hank himself. So rolls the great migration.
Years before I snuck through the back door of this blog last summer and changed the real writers' passwords (which I continue to ransom btw), and I mean I'm talking forever ago before 5G and 4K when I had an iPhone 4 or something, I read this post about cocaine and immediately started grinding my teeth.
Just kidding. I know I type hip words to make myself look cool but the truth is I totally failed at that awful drug. Coke dealers relentlessly stalking me and selling me their kerosene smelly baggies of paranoia is one of the reasons I don't drink anymore. Mobile phone companies are in on it too as far as I'm concerned. And bartenders. And guys in bathrooms.
And waitresses. The list is as endless as the reasons I no longer drink.
Exhausting conspiracies like those surround us because coke has been readily available for decades everywhere. So stressful. I simply cannot wait for the day I become a giant pearl after eating from a tree filled with different fruits and no longer have to deal with life up here.
Want to float down a cool blue underground river together? We can make a chain. I heard it takes two weeks. We'll be nineteen and beautiful again.
The communal clothing pile and assorted other weird germ-y things will not be happening down there. Infectious diseases and viruses are better understood a little over half a century later. To that, we're finito with the dumpsters todos.
Stylistically, any dudes who show up in satin pirate shirts and etc will not be allowed to miniaturize. The girls will pay attention to you and I'm insecure so away you go. You must continue farther downriver and find the root with Gilgamesh. Watch out for the snake.
In Patty's post, she asks the person she is interviewing where the cocaine going around Southern California came from in 1969? Was there one source, many, what? Patty brings up the mob. Which is slang for mafia.
Which is slang for Eugene David Massaro.
Legit. If you're trying to define streams of cocaine flooding into the Hollywood scene during our research period, stop here for a spell. Eugene was at the forefront of the movement and possibly one of its managers. Cutting and pasting from his FBI files into a document filled up twenty-five pages in MS Word last week. My brain and eyes hurt when I finished. He was never not doing something awful.
Here is what Uncle Sam had on him. It's worth deciphering. Massaro is as fascinating as any character in this drama. Jarrett chasing Massaro through a fiction novel is one I'd love.
Our man Eugene arrives in Los Angeles in 1967 and takes up residence at 1221 West Horn Ave.
A quick refresh on Horn Ave or some illuminating backstory if you're new. Newspapers and even the FBI commonly misidentified the avenue as a street. Pro tip if you're searching. You don't have to thank me. It's all gratis as part of your MFB experience.
Massaro was a bad boy with screws loose and ice water in his veins. He rocked half sleeves in the 60's. He surfed. The neighbors heard him beating his wife while accusing her of cheating.
The couple worked together at a strip joint. Today, the building is attached to a film studio and has a large privacy fence enclosing it like a pioneer fort in a 1950's black and white movie.
Surely you feel the thunder clouds gathering.
During the time Massaro was physically abusing his wife, still 1967 for you scorekeepers, he drove this little honey.
Massaro possibly had the hard top but c'mon. I'm California Dreamin under dark tall oaks right now. Allow me a sunny breeze. Massaro surfed every day from 10 am until around 4 pm. The Lou Adler production on the song is lovely imo. We argued about the harmonies and if the choice of the alto flute had anything to do with them. What do you think?
We should back up after you answer. Eugene David Massaro was born in New York in late 1938. He arrives in our story in 1966 in Miami trying to reenter the country on a flight from Colombia with a loaded pistol in his luggage. Airport police and authorities were desperately trying to stop, allegedly anyway, I'm sure some of them were, cocaine from arriving in Miami via commercial airplanes in those days. Never a one-trick pony, the feds considered Massaro a top jewel thief at the time and were already watching him.
When I saw Colombia, I of course immediately thought cocaine. I went to Newspapers.com and started searching with "Miami," "cocaine," and "Colombia," as keywords. Oddly, the first two suggestions that popped up when I queried articles from 1966 with those keywords were about young men who got caught coming back from Colombia with cocaine but were also caught smuggling gemstones.
The federales knew Massaro was taking his burgled, robbed, and home invasion booty up to Boston to fence under the watchful eye of godfather Raymond Patriarca. I wondered if Eugene was cutting New York out of the deal. Risky Business.
Massaro was always working. He posed as flower delivery drivers. Policemen. Whatever was necessary to gain entrance. And then it was over in seconds. Handcuffed victims. If you'd crossed him previously or he imagined you crossed him previously, you likely disappeared.
Hotel room robberies. Insurance fraud. Extortion. Murder. All of this while importing cocaine. Dude was a serious adrenaline junkie.
Never one of the good guys. We're talking about a pimp who used a brass candlestick to teach an ugly lesson to one of his hookers. Who outside of Edgar Allen Poe has brass candlesticks? The vending machines Massaro supposedly sold with Tex were never manufactured. That venture was likely a partnership with the Chicago outfit.
Massaro was connected to everything and everyone. LA Boss Mickey Cohen asked him to come on board as muscle.
And I could be completely wrong but the FBI report shows Massaro is first charged (at his hospital bedside where he spent two weeks after being shot) with three counts of kidnapping following a shootout where his injuries occurred and a guy named George Piscitelle died. Later, Massaro and three others are charged in the killing of Piscitelle. Was the whole thing a setup?
If so, it was brutally clever. Piscitelle's karma was likely up anyway.
Piscitelle's digs at the time of his death. Those trees out front were tiny bonsai shrubs back then. A man who taught Karate to east coast transplants took care of them.
I'm likely splitting Massaro's spectacular adventures into several posts. You will see he was more than a street hoodlum. Massaro wasn't some mob flunkie. He was their man handling things.
Prior to the Piscitelle murder in 1969, a fellow gave Massaro $11k in 1968, just under $87k in today's US currency, believing Massaro was going to buy cocaine, step on it, and bag it up for delivery. I feel guilty saying this since the man lost his life over his foolishness but good lord. Was his first day in the drug game his last?
That's a lot of trust. Oh, and Beckham wants me to point out that when Massaro first arrived in Los Angeles, he listed his occupation as "hairdresser."
How did Tex meet Massaro and how close were they? Read those FBI reports on Massaro and tell me if what happened at Cielo Dr. seems beyond the pale to you.
From the above linked FBI reports:
3 OCT 20 1969 5OJA*103 U.S. Savings Bonds Regularly on the Bay roll Savings Blan LA 87-26ij48
Information received from CII, Sacramento, indicates that contact with employees of that firm locally have stated that none of the machines have yet been manufactured, although the company has been in operation for some time. This is believed to be merely a cover operation for MASSARO.
If the vending machines were never manufactured like the FBI believed, what did Tex and Massaro do when they hung out? Talk about wigs?
Before I go, I want to briefly discuss my defense of Glenna Maddox posted a couple of weeks back. It is boorish to condemn Charlie's mother, uncle, and society for his decisions and actions and then turn around and get all fired up and call him out on lies every time the available data doesn't match the accepted backstory. I need way more dispassion at times.
Moving forward, I will attempt to avoid saying I have empathy for the child raised in the system and then turn around and laugh alongside the Coliseum mob when a clearly mentally ill Charlie is pulled from his cell to perform goofy dances while dodging the sharpened sticks of disingenuous interviewers.
If I somehow lose my cool after finding several photos of happy-looking seventh and eighth graders who were arrested in the dust with the crew two years later or any other bits of the awful minutia stuck to the barely exposed entrails of this study and rage at every character under that dry 1969 sky from my desk inside the offices of this historic, vaunted blog, I apologize in advance.
And seriously, if you can verify you were there and have the ability to clear up any misconceptions I'm having about the young loves give me a shout. I'm tired of digging up their photos. It breaks my heart.
That's probably it for me for today. I'm better suited for lonely databases where I can reflect the sun back into the eyes of El with my shiny keyboard. If you're one of the kids who ate trash casseroles on the saloon floor, I'm glad you made it here.
So long for now from the banks of the Ohio. The leaves are turning while we feed and provide just-in-case places for a herd of deer during hunting season. My family purchased this land with timber, ore, and their blood in 1803 after defending a tiny cabin just across the river against gory privations for a decade. Our No Trespassing signs are not suggestions and we allow no hunting in these woods.
Do not bring your guns up here.
* My process is to take what is commonly believed and endlessly repeated and attempt to verify the info. Thanks to Deb, Patty, Beckham and the illustrious Jackie Buns for lending me their ears last week. Long live Karate Sue. Tell me that's not the sister of the guy in the striped shirt mugshot.
Tawna, you know the same shiz is going to happen again and again with that crazy man. Why put yourself through it? All he does is repeat Schreck and what you tell him anyway.
See what happens but know you can start publishing and promoting yourself here whenever you're ready. I'll help with your articles if you need an editor and never call you a "B" or a "C" on a Youtube show while pretending I'm "On Air" and doing a radio program.
He said there's nobody better doing this thing when you and him are clicking. What he meant was he has nothing and you are his last hope. Why carry that dude? His time has passed.
Is there one shred of hard evidence that Tex and Massaro ever crossed paths?
I'd never heard of the above audio offering before, but, having now listened to a few minutes of it, I feel that the presenter would benefit hugely from thirty minutes in a locked room with Geno Massaro.
I've always liked the look of poor Karate Sue and her various beehives,(from a safe distance, of course). She would certainly have been the most likely of the karate kids to know what KD was all about, and appears to bear the closest resemblance to him, although it's sometimes hard to squint through age-tinted spectacles at karate adults. Sadly, none of the extended karate family have ever had the decency to carelessly leave a smoking-gun photograph for an unwanted observer, such as my good self, to find lying around.
Before I publish this comment, I will be forced to tick a box indicating that i'm not a robot. I am one though.
If this opener is any sort of indication, I have a stronger than strong feeling that any subsequent posts by yourself on the topic of "made man massaro" are going to be SPECTACULAR beyond description. It really seems that, after more than half a freakin' century, we are all FINALLY getting to the nitty-gritty as to the actual motive behind at least the tate homicides. I am breathlessly awaiting further revelations as regards ol' geno and the manson (or, more accurately, watson) crew, and, repeating myself, am of the opinion that they will be nothing short of mind-blowing and will, at the very least, require a near-wholesale rewriting of the "official story". Extra points to you also for including that bewitching photo of Karate Sue, whom these eyes first beheld on paul's manson saga youtube channel. Honestly thinking 2021 is the year we, at last, get the unvarnished truth (or as close to that as is possible at this late date) on this topic, with the info you are uncovering playing a key role.
Lol 60's. I'm okay with accepting all the theories as correct if you are and heading out to grab dinner. Some DQ in the car overlooking the river or maybe at one of the stone tables patrolled by yellow jackets and hornets.
Star - Dunno. I'm trying to figure out who first put their names together. Any ideas?
Robot Bunt - Hello. Do you eat motor oil for dinner or plug in or how does it go?
LaBiancas business was vending machines.
I am breathlessly awaiting further revelations as regards ol' geno and the manson (or, more accurately, watson) crew, and, repeating myself, am of the opinion that they will be nothing short of mind-blowing and will, at the very least, require a near-wholesale rewriting of the "official story".
Your feelings are similar to what mine were after reading Maury Terry's book, The Ultimate Evil. All these years later, I'm still awaiting the rewriting.
Is there one shred of hard evidence that Tex and Massaro ever crossed paths?
Hi guys. Hope your day is going well. I took a nice bike ride earlier. I mean just the bluest sky. Maybe 70 degrees outside. Little breeze. Fluffy white clouds.
Trek makes amazing bicycles. Anyone in the market should stop by their local Trek store while out bike shopping and take a test ride. They also do 24 hour turnarounds on all repairs.
I tried to ride for an hour today but could not. I haven't been on my bike since last Tuesday and cycling is indeed a cruel mistress. But I'm still totally able to carve up those streets like I did in the days of yellow Walkman's. Kinda shocked at my age actually. I put a 45 good minutes in even if I didn't make the full hour. I'm totally down if you ever want to race. And I don't even mind losing tbh. Not that I think I will.
The river smelled like worms.
When I got back home, I messed around outside with my plants and shrubs and all that. I probably have ten Butternut and at least six Acorn squash(es)(squashi?) almost ready. Way too many. The pepper plants are giving it their last hurrah. We're having an incredible Indian Summer although I'm not sure I am supposed to call it that anymore.
Back inside, I sautéed bell peppers and sweet onions that I grew and put them in my slow cooker with a little chicken base and filtered water. Then I browned 4 Chef Martin Andouille sausages in the the same pan, dude you gotta get a Scanpan but watch for sales because they're pricey, and lids are also extra btw total ripoff, and added them to the slow cooker.
After that, I made long grain white rice in the Instant Pot. Here is how to make rice perfectly every time in an Instant Pot. 2 cups of rice, soaked and rinsed, 2 cups of filtered water, salt and pepper. Set the IP to 1 Minute and turn off "Keep Warm." Next, set the timer on your phone to 30 minutes and go do something else. When you come back there is no steam to release and your rice is perfect every time.
When the kitchen was all cleaned up, I mopped the floor with water and white vinegar. The vinegar blended with the cooking smells and the kitchen smells awesome right now.
I made myself a cup of coffee (fresh today from the roaster) and added a little half n half just now. I hope it's not too late in the day.
You're on! I have 4 treks! Guru charlie's first wistful saying about his lost freedom is people riding their bicycles!
Dan S - I bet Charlie would've been a good bmx'er. All that wiry twitch muscle. He might not have made it to 4 bikes tho. There'd be some weird hippie riding down Sunset on one after Charlie traded him for a bag of apples or something random.
Doug - LOL! I was actually considering writing a profile of Rick James next so the coffee clatch can tell me I'll never solve the case I'm not trying to solve and etc right under it. Stay tuned my dude.
Clatch - I'll have it posted before Matlock and Mama's Family come on the tv no worries.
Hey all you cool cats who like audio, Myra Elvira is doing the Manson books at no cost.
Did Tex Watkins shoot and rob Joel Rosteau in April 1969?
Was Rosteau the "mafia vending-machine connection" mentioned in "Will You Die For Me"?
Norman Weitzman was a vending machine guy shot to death in July 1970.
There is a bunch of stuff about it starting about a dozen comments in on this thread.
Bunt - I think Robert Evans drove him there in Doris Day's Brougham.
Im just getting caught up been awhile im a month plus in hospital Dilated Methadone & xanax had me a little scrambled eggs but I really enjoyed this guy's writing The smell of cat piss brought back memories from 30 plus year's ago when I was in my early 20's & tight with the big 1% club here in New Jersey & knew a few meth cooks
Devil - Keep fighting, man. The first crank I unfortunately ever saw was PB Crunch and it came from friends who received hand-drawn Xmas cards from Tommy S. out west. I know when you say 1% and don't name drop anyone that you're not bs'ing me lol.
Even though decades have passed I can still smell that shit when I think about it.
Thanks brother this isn't my 1st rodeo with the Cancer I beat this Fkr twice & just pray it don't come back luckily just surgery no chemo or radiation trust me there s people in this nursing home who are worse off than me missing legs & going to be living here for the long term
Peace keep up writing for the blog very interesting & enjoyable
You got it, bro. Thank you.
A bunch of stuff I'd love to say on this particular subject, oh boy... but right now I'll just say I really enjoy your posts, GreenWhite, and particularly enjoy your writing "voice". Quickly on the subject of Massaro etc - the credit belongs to a researcher named Gina Judd (she also has alot of other sockpuppet accts) for being first aboard that train & doing alot of the initial dot-connecting, along with Gary Stewart. At one time, they had a really good FB Group which unfortunately went to hell & disbanded because of that misogynistic, unmedicated psychopath, the "Radio Guy". You can still access Massaro's FBI files that she put up on Scribd, but at one time she had a huge number of files on EM. I'm pretty sure that info is going to be included in the newest update of "The Manson File", along with the Horn Ave tie-ins.
More later on Stefanino's, Rostau, etc. My patience runs thin typing on this tiny phone keyboard.
'Whut, hope life is treating you well! - if you're interested in the (unfortunately unpublished due to his death) research Maury Terry had for his planned update, e-mail me at Trilby222 at gmail. There's an "Unofficial" MT Group on FB - & if you join, watch for comments on bygone posts by "Trudy Zeek", who was MT; but MT's actual own private Group is on FB (not searchable & I'll not name it.). Its membership is curated very carefully both due to sensitive content & also b/c after the Netflix doc, some members were admitted who were a disaster, to be blunt. Carl Denaro, a SOS Survivor & great friend of MT's, runs the site now & many who go back decades researching with MT are there. "Shock & awe", as the saying goes, at the info. I'd def vouch for you. E-mail me if you want.
Trilby - I can't wait to get Schreck's book in my hands. Others don't like his ideas but I like comparing the differences in everyone's texts. Now, I read both the Massaro and the Massaro and Rostau files. Like reading movie scripts really. Such wild lives. One thing that always scares me about organized crime is how quickly the best friend you go on vacations with, sometimes with spouses and kids, can then just turn around and become your killer.
I'd rather be a square.
Yeah, GreenWhite, I can't wait to read it either! I love Mr.& Mrs. Matt to pieces, but one thing Matt & I def disagree on is Rostau in general & Mr. Schreck in particular - I find him brilliant & tbh, his willingness to be frank about Manson - usually people either see him as all villain or all saint, which is both boring & phony AF - helped me look at things in a fresh light (which was amazing considering I went down this rabbit hole at 12, in '75. Ocean City, NJ, bookstore on the boardwalk. The summer before was "Night of the Living Dead", after which the heights of my zombie-paranoia led to the first & only book-burning in my book-loving family, as my grandmother Gert marched it out to the grill & bar-b-q'd it. The next summer, it was "The Killing of Sharon Tate" followed by "Helter Skelter" followed by "The Family", and discerning even at that age that "Helter Skelter" was bullsh*t, an obsession for finding the truth was born. My Mom watched me closely for awhile, she says, for evidence a nascient serial killer wannabe was blooming, but to this day it remains only this case, SoS et al & the Black Dahlia that interest me. And I still love zombies, and they still scare the hell out of me.) Anyway, it looks to me like you nailed all the Massaro stuff, your research is incredible, but if you want me to put you in touch with Gina or Gary, to see if they still have all their files, let me know. IIRC, Gina had all the Massaro stuff. Gary is the only person I've known who got Dr. Marvin Flicker to talk to him on-the-record about Folger.
Trilby - I like the way you write. You might be the first person to bring actual zombies into the narrative lol. I didn't realize I was walking on Schreck's research with my Massaro stuff, camps don't talk and all that, so I can leave it to him while we await his book.
I'd love to read whatever Gina and Gary are willing to share however. And thank you. I do think Massaro was involved here but have no proof. I found a newspaper article I want to say from 1980 that involves a murder-for-hire plot back in FLA. A Massaro with a different first name is involved but what's interesting is the other defendants are Los Angeles gangster guys who were possibly involved with our Eugene back in the day.
Not the most uncommon name of course but it ties the group of murderers to John Gotti who links back thru time to Costello and Charlie. Now, we've always heard that Massaro flipped and went into witness protection but I haven't found anything where he testified against his former cronies or even testified at all. I wouldn't be surprised if a better digger than me found that verifying info or even if it's in Schreck's book though.
I have both of Shrecks 1st two books & prepaid for the updated Outlaw Shaman it's been a long time he keeps blaming the delay on Covid & did offer a refund but I want the book without getting raped on the buying it second hand I paid right around $400 for my copy of Outlaw Shaman & it took years to find a copy
GreenWhite, I don't think there's any "stepping on toes" when it comes to research, to the contrary, it can only bring us all collectively closer to finding answers. I also think of it as like a hint from the Universe when we all start circling around a particular area. You can e-mail me or get my contact info from Matt, & in the meanwhile I'll reach out to Gina & Gary. Stefanino's Restaurant is fertile ground for plowing too - Ed Sanders had dropped a hint about that in his Thunders Mouth ed. of The Family - the location when it was on Sunset at Sunset Plaza, not the later one on IIRC Beverly. Sanders made reference to a coke operation involving Rostau being run out of the "back room" there, and Rostau had apparently been busted proximate to the murders. The guy who then owned the joint, Daniel Whitman (most likely a "front" owner), later got busted for a mobbed-up ticket scam involving the Frontiere family (& I can attest 100% that they were mobbed up back then.). The restaurant was an "in" hangout & as such, would have presented alot of opportunity for traffic, y'know? Anyway, I've always wanted to find out more about that, never have.
PS: The hybridization of all my worst fears: Tex Watson as a zombie.
Devil - I've been on ebay bidding on the Schreck book more than once only to have someone swoop in as the auction expires and drop $500 on it. Heartbreak Hotel for sure. I hope you're healing up and everything is good. Been thinking about you. Keep fighting.
Trilby - Fascinating. Definitely look for an email from me. Messaging Matt now.
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