This site, by the very nature of its subject matter, is no laughing matter. But even the most terrible tragedy has some comic relief. Nick has a wicked, dry wit, and can crack jokes even under the greatest pressure. So he’d appreciate me giving a little “time out” to show you something that, now that I look back on it, is absolutely hilarious.

You may remember the publication Weekly World Digest, which was sold mostly at supermarket check-out lines and newspaper stands. It was a black and white rag that was even worse than a tabloid, because tabloids at least attempt to convey something like the truth (they have to, it’s illegal not to…). Weekly World Digest preferred to tell tales of babies born with bat wings, demons possessing ball machines at church bingo nights, vampires feeding off the First Lady, etc. All of these stories were accompanied by usually terribly unconvincing photoshopped pictures – ringing any bells now? Unfortunately, Weekly World Digest went out of business, so I can’t link you to a web site with samples. But I’m sure it’s well logged in the annals of most people’s memories.

Well, Weekly World Digest got wind of the aftermath of the Memorial Day Rose Red trip and printed what may have been the only WWD feature ever to have some basis in reality, even if the details in their version are – to say the least – highly inventive.

(Continue reading…)

Unraveling Rose Red: Piecing together the puzzle of history and “coincidence” in Rose Red.

Hotel Bremen, like Pinafore Lodge, was a very popular resort destination in the late 19th century and early 20th century. It resided on the cool, calm waters of Lake Chincopee in northern New Jersey.

After the last of the local Indians were driven from the area by white industry - primarily ice, cut in large blocks during winter and shipped around the area for storage in ice houses - the beautiful lake was prime for spring, summer, and fall retreats for middle and upper class travelers from around the country.

While one might suggest the brutality of the way the indigenous Indians were driven away could be enough to curse the entire area, their treatment was not entirely without justification. The local Indians sided with the British in the American War of Independence, as part of a confederation led by the Mohawk. They met their fate at the hands of New Jersey militia, and the rest who remained on the lake for several more decades were derided and finally shoved out of the way by the relentless forward momentum of industry. Between the ice businesses, the numerous iron mine operations on the lake’s surrounding mountains, and the growing tourism, there was very little undisrupted land left for the Indians to live on. Eventually their tribe dwindled and was absorbed into the larger Lenni Lenape nation, and descendants are rare. They are all but extinct. (Continue reading…)

Last week I proposed the idea for this post to Steven Rimbauer, and while he was naturally hesitant at first, he soon adopted his usual laissez-faire stance. That is to say when it comes to stories, he tends to let the storyteller have his or her way…and sometimes ends up butting in and telling the story himself!

There’s no chance of that happening here, since this is my blog. But after he agreed to let me talk about this “taboo” subject, he drew up notes of everything he remembered from his and Joyce’s private conversations over the course of their relationship. I’d say that’s participation in the story. And as it gives interesting insight into Joyce’s fascination with Ellen Rimbauer, and indeed her relationship with Steve, I thought it worth presenting to you for your consideration.

It must be noted that everything I am about to divulge has been approved for publication here by Steve. Even the most intimate details. Otherwise, I wouldn’t write them—his friendship is too precious to me to sacrifice over a good tale.

Warning: this post contains adult content, or at least adult references. (Continue reading…)