Squat room

I'd like to welcome newbie blogger Big Steve "Pookah" Hodel here to the fracas on the Lake Bus. Discriminating Steve's probably not going to publish my initial noxious little comment on his shiny, yet somehow oddly familiar new blog, all just primary impotence or not for all commenters? Perhaps, but he's brought news that our brother, Det. Brian Carr has retired from long public service in the LAPD. Well done! And I'll bet he is, too. Maybe Brian will get a blog going, won't that be a smack down. It'll be Briar versus Brian!
One night ONLY!!
Back in Los Angeles and available for chats at BDiH, the NY Times bestselling author also informs this reader with the news that the LAPD actually has a cold case squad. That's an interesting fact, not really very material, but interesting. The LAPD's position has always been that the Elizabeth Short murder was and is open and unsolved. Open, unsolved and assigned to a duty detective since 1947. As if this depraved deed was ever going to be anything but an hot case from the post mortem pornographic angle at the very least. One for the books, if not the movies.
I can't really recommend the blog, because frankly, Steve's entire theory is donkeysquat. Woefully lacking anything resembling a motive for Dr. Hodel. Nor has he been able to produce any evidence the two ever came closer than a whole city to each other, leaving George with no opportunity to commit the grizzly murder Steve can't find that plausible motive for. That said, I'll take the falls for my readers and check in there frequently to keep them up with Black Dahlia news, if any.
I am nothing if not an optimist in this case. When they understand Ed's map, they will know the truth. Even this dope, and if it has finallygone under the scrutiny of a whole squad of fresh eyes, good men and sharp women, and scientific standards of proof, and not just bluff and bluster then that's something else to be welcomed here always, as are all of your comments, fair or foul.
Dear readers.

The War Brides

Here! is...Letter to folloW. Where! is? Riverrun, park and ride. Ed was no writer, fer sure, dude. Elementary composition seems to have be somewhat painful for him, particularly when he was drunk, which was half of the time, and the only time he ever felt the need which wasn't often. Ed had, at the age of thirty-three, lived in the city of Los Angeles in 1942 as is shown in the City Directory. He was inducted into the Army in Los Angeles on December 15, 1942. A very important date for any war veteran. His ID.
It had been over a year since Pearl Harbor. Ed had a pretty young wife by then and a daughter whom he would never see. Her singled-up mother, whom he seldom or never wrote, only allowed the girl to live until the age of two, wherein what can only be described as a post partum depression, murdered her child and committed suicide in a matter of thwarting the greater war effort by bumming out the other war wives. A shocking murder suicide, not fit for publication in war time. Pro-choice, bad for morale on the homefront while the war sputtered and raged in the Pacific with no real end in sight, in the early Winter of 1945.
Ed spent the rest of their lives fixing bombsights in the Solomon Islands, and when he was finally briefed on the National Security implications, was duly informed of his personal loss and thereby waived any recourse through Army channels. The matter had been handled by local officials, and he was reassured that there was nothing else that could have been done by all involved. Edwin F. Burns signed the chit, snapped to attention, saluted and holding it smartly, asked permission to go completely insane, Sir?
Permission granted.

Put her there, Pal

A furtive glance at the Google map to your right should instantly remind the reader of the Roman numerals X in red and V in black, both tilted oddly clockwise. Fifteen, sure. This is exactly what Los Angelino Ed Burns had inside his twisted and torqued mind when he ever so carefully and quickly placed the severed body of Elizabeth Short in a vacant lot located at N34.0150/W118.332.
Today, a front lawn at 3825 S. Norton Ave., at about six-thirty in the morning of January 15, 1947 in what is now North Leimert Park, Los Angeles, California USA. Just like in the movie. Have a look.
No longer the perfect crime it once was, Ed's simple geographic riddles have yielded themselves into a truly screwy map using information technology to resolve virtually all the unanswered questions in the murder of the Black Dahlia. Yes, Elizabeth Short was truly the impossible beauty of the Mexican flower as she pined away for her lost lover, Matt Gordon and the quantum tragedy of a world war. She was aware of the moniker and if I know my homeboys, delighted by it.
Who wouldn't be?
Ed seems to have foreseen that the murder he made might not have gotten the attention from the police and press it deserved for some time, but he wanted you and I to know who he was and what he had suffered in that so-called good war, and where, how and why he would, driven by guilt for his crime, kill himself if not caught by the Ides of March, that March 15, 1947 leaving his clothes and a letter to follow to Breeze Ave. Beach in Venice where the map ends by doubling back across the dumpsite to the scene of the crime, the Hirsh Apts.
So Ed left us one master clue that the LAPD missed, the key to the whole mystery, her final "rescue bearings", or the exact global position of the last remains of Elizabeth Short, the Black Dahlia. If we cared to look that is.

Let's ask Larry

Anyone who has spent any time looking at the FBI file on the Black Dahlia murder knows that it's very heavily redacted. I'd never seen anything quite like it. At 204 pages it was easily as large as the FOIA dump on Bush Jr.'s military service but far more carefully done. I'd seen classified Kennedy assassination documents with much less inking out. Why? Because this was an open case at the time of it's release? Many jurisdictions keep unsolved murder cases open, but no active LAPD investigation is in evidence since January, 1947. The FBI had no jurisdiction, in fact, played no official role in the murder investigation at all.
The bulk of the 1997 FOIA is from the Director Hoover's supposedly secret personal files of interest to him alone. All the more queer, that so much is blotted over. What's the big secret? Hoover had known tastes that ran toward the salacious. It doesn't add up and here's why: The actual investigating that was done by the Bureau was done at the direct request of the Los Angeles Times newspaper's Washington D.C. correspondent to the District Field Office SAC on Jan. 19Th. 1947, a full five days after the body was found, presumably requesting any information on Edwin F. Burns for a page two on the unstable war hero and hometown boy. They found them a box load. The front page of the file is a cover sheet upon which they bestow Elizabeth Short the middle name she never had.
Ann.

Gene Lyons

Nancygate

The Black Dahlia Genome

Yes, I did come before you today to scream and rant at you about maps and latitudes and longitude and such, but I will forebear, and fight the urge as best I can. Where have I gained this newfound eqinimity? I'll tell you. Briar has a new Shout Box gadget at the Paradox Patch Blog. A great way to snap on your online friends, it's given me a new slant on chat boxes. It's all in the timing and pace suggested by the programming itself. A shouting match in a box, very Monty Pythonesque. Lot's of fun! Rather than getting chatters gathering at some time specific, impossible for out of the time zone visitors, so what's the point? Here you can drop by anytime with you're latest pearls of wisdom or bloody-minded anti-GOP scorn, and skulk away in horror at what you just typed but wish you hadn't send. The hostess blogger will probably let you down easy, but it is a Shout Box after all, so you won't have to scrimp on the decibels. A genome is very simply a coded sequence. DNA is a type of genome. In other words, directions or a map. A set of data which can be used as scientific proof of phenomenom in the observable world.

The Big Moe

The Big Moe is the measurable, observable, and empirical grade of data or evidence in an investigation. It's in the Google virtual map of the Elizabeth Short murder, to your right, which fully satisfies all three of the three conditions which are needed for an acceptably scientific level of inquiry. These are the hard numbers and calculations proving the so-called Ed Burns hypothesis. Extended, revised and published continually at this site and available for peer review, comment and refutation, if any. You chowderheads! It'll gouge your eyes out. You can't do that with imagined hemicorporectomies by performed by aged sick MD's all long dead, so we're stuck with it. We're trapped like rats. It's been well over two years in development and LAPD Det. Brian Carr was informed by me via US Mail of my results more than a year ago. He has yet to respond, but I feel sure he will, He's no fool. In the end the dumpsite is the only useable clue, but it was the best clue ever.

What would Nixie do?

Buy a new hat. The Powell Doctrine. Remember that one? Clear objectives, overwhemling force, and an exit strategy. 1-2-3. US Army General Colin Powell established himself as a military mind on par with George Washington and Alexander with it. Genius. Defacto CiC for most of our long republican noir period, he demonstrated it ably and throughly as Generalissamo in the First Gulf War. That said, Dick Cheney was DoD in that war. His boss. I saw a bumpersticker on the Reagan tollway today: What would Nixon do? Wow? The Litte Quaker from East L.A.? He would've suggested calling Don Rumsfeld, who was having trouble holding his liquor intake much under a case a week for the duration. Rummy always kept things rolling, mostly by getting drunk and calling Powell a big nigger behind his back at those Cabinet meetings and always making Bush Jr. giggle. Unlike Alexander, Jr. proved to be no Sr. Powell kept his cool and did what he could at State while Cheney, Rummy and Jr.and his minions proceeded to foolishly jettisoned the Powell Doctrine althogether and tried to win their little war of aggression in Iraq on the cheap. See SWA today. Like to see us go back to that one old way of thinking. As a military doctrine, it was tragedy to abandon it. Nixie would then pop up and remind us that, Hey! Rummy's a Goddamn Jew, otherwise where would he dig up a moniker like Rumsfeld? Who's dealing here? Mao? That mick Kennedy?

The man who shot Camp Liberty books unbalanced

Gen. Casey told the Senate yesterday that it isn't true that most soldiers suffer from post traumatic stress disorder after combat. He called it a "growth experience", leaving them people with an overall glow of success which will carry them onto possibly great things in their civilian careers if any, and if they don't commit suicide before they can find a job, or starve because they've been screwed by their so-called superiors out of any possible benefits after becoming sick in the Army which just isn't done. That's malingering, Dogface! Now let's see how we can screw the shooter's victims' survivors out of anything by which they might possibly benefit. Why? Because screwing the lower ranks, veterans, widows, and children and victims out of their rightful pensions and disability benefits is a large profitable industry. It's a big business run by the big dogs who've made big careers out of screwing the all the little puppy pooches like this Jack Russell, US Army, Terrier. Welcome to the camp, I guess you all know why we're here? No? Why to liberate as much loot as we can carry home, to our highways of death. I'll keep an hounds eye on this dog but I can't see it going anywhere.

A cold deck

In space nobody can read you if you're not there. It's true what you're hearing about my being sick and all, but I'm not dead, yet. Wednesday, at the earliest. We'll know. Elizabeth Short however, is good and dead. As cold cases of note go, this is the lowest hanging fruit, the heaviest, the sweetest solve of all. From Long Beach, originally, I lived in Los Angeles proper for nearly three years. That really helped me to appreciate it's vagarious hills and wash, and streets, as did my two mile hike up San Pedro Hill to the foot of Western Ave after school everyday. The real spine of the city, the great Western Ave. The paved axis around which the whole dizzy construction spins and then grinds to a halt during it's rush hours. Lemmings? Even Ed Burns knew enough to plan his perfect crime with a mind to the automobile traffic at the time he'd planned from the discarding of the body in N. Leimert Park to his probable plane to catch at Santa Monica. What a perfect put down for the LAPD. Burns clearly dialogues the thing to the cops who hadn't the training to understand his geographic riddle. The body was the compass, the sign post in the vacant lot from hell, that leads us down into the alluvial sand to the very roots of the Black Dahlia Mystery.

Dismembers only

In case anyone has missed it, the great exodus from Beth Short dotcom has occurred as predicted. Great day in the morning, you read it here first. The bad news is that Black Dahliaphiles are now hopelessly lost in the Hollywood gulch. Following the Pillar of Briarfire, at night and a column of smoke by day, new and hopefully not permanent digs have been taken up at the unfortunately named Black Dahlia in Hollywood. Lot's of nice pictures, not including poor Georgette Bauerdorf's naked bum. I remember I had joined when they first started up, but repeated technical cracks with my membership, finally caused me to let it just lapse. When a new registration failed, I began to feel decidedly unwelcome, as probably do most guests who have so few privileges on this free site. Word gets out. The casual surfer is blocked from reading any attachments, transcripts, or polling, or see any graphics. Who does chats any more? You really get what you pay for here. A total waste of time. For Larry Harnisch, Steve Hodel and the rest of the Hollywood Ice Cold Case Squad (HICCS)? You should be forced to pay for your gruel.

Gene Lyons

Fox hunting

The Black Dahlia in Hooterville

Sixties and seventies TV is alwaysthe best place to go for the real story of Elizabeth Short's not to be understated influence on Hollywood kitch. Lucy Arnaz, played the Dahlia in a made-for-television, had her fathers dark hair and her mothers fair skin. "Lot's of curves, you bet and even more when you get to the junction..." Petticoat Junction, out of The Beverly Hillbillies by Green Acres. This is L.A.'s horsey set. Maps of the stars homes still fascinate the Gomer Pyle, USMC's from Mayberry RFD. Not that anybody over the age of forty is a native of the place anymore. All the true Angelino's split for point's north decades ago one step ahead of the Beast. Right about the same time the place became uninhabitable from the real estate and energy prices. From the LAPD, and serial killers and nip cars who stayed behind, to the angry trapped working class. The fast food and slow freeways and ubiquitous street gangs that serve and sustain the Lost Hollywood: The firm domain of the Bitch Queen.

The Black Dahlia in N. Liemert Park

The Black Dahlia murder is again troubling my sleep. How can so many people be so stupid? Public Education? It's been known for about a decade that American student test scores in Geography have been declining sharply. A trend that would appear to have begun in Los Angeles in early 1947. On the other hand, law enforcement science has for the last few years drawn the very best and brightest, if not the best paid minds. However, seemingly not in the LAPD which has continually been among the most isolated and despised police force since the Gestapo. Despite the most cunning propaganda machine since the NKVD. Change must begin by ripping the locks off the file cases once and for all, give the people the information their taxes have already payed forward. Stop the bleeding.