March 6, 2008

Hello Nate & Cynthia,

That was a nice letter you sent at Christmas. Thanks. I'm glad you guys had a good time when Judy stopped by for a visit. She has far more compassion for some of the old characters than I do, and she's a lot less judgmental, too. She naturally has a gracious spirit. I'm coarse.

It was a little ironic that you mentioned Robert Cohen in the letter. He called Brian one time with that same insufferable madness he dumped on you; the persona he perfected at Star Island in the 70s. The last time I saw him was at the beginning of '93. I was out at Churchill's place on Long Island when ol' boy showed up. We spent a good portion of the afternoon sucking down the herb. And even though there were only the 3 of us in the room, Robert wouldn't acknowledge my presence, except when he had to pass me the pipe or take it from me.

It seems impossibly ridiculous, especially in light of all the things we'd gone through together before that moment, but I'm sure it was his less-than-subtle way of letting me know I was under a heavy, irrevocable, Coptic curse. I guess he didn't want it to rub off on him by proxy. He was probably on to something. He just hasn't realized it yet, but he has a healthy dose of some horrible malady, too. Poor thing.

Rob-bottie (we have David, Brian, Little Felix, Truth, et al. to thank for that insightful and prescient handle) would make a good poster boy for Coptic madness. I know we're all afflicted to some degree, as you've so candidly noted, but he's a mess. Good grief!

Anyway, the best part of our encounter out on Long Island came when the poor disfunctional robot (maybe it should have been Roe-bottie) made up his mind it was time to go. He finally decided to address me. Apparently, he had a parting shot prepared. So he stood up, cast a decidedly condescending sneer my way, and in a disdainful tone of voice that would have turned his haughty mentors green with envy, he made a confident declaration.

"Brother Wally, uh God, you know?!" he scoffed.

Of course, he knew I didn't have a clue. I had no idea. Humbug!

Then, the pompous jerk strode off with a self-satisfied swagger, leaving his dumbfounded quarry (me, of course) to stew in his own juices, and contemplate the infinite wisdom of his scathing barb. What a moron! He was Churchill's guest and customer, so I didn't misbehave, but I gotta admit the thought crossed my mind. God is great, hunh? And Goud ain't too shabby, neither. We can either laugh or cry. Really, though, my cross is light compared to some. We always have sump'n' to be thankful for.

Enough of that for now. I enjoy our periodic exchanges. We have a lot in common. I realize we'll never see everything through the same rose-colored glasses, but who cares? I don't take too many things seriously these days, and I still have a vestige of my sense of humor left. It carries me through most situations.

There is one topic of conversation that doesn't get old for me. So I'll try to give you a quick synopsis of my abiding perceptions of Ivy.

I first heard about him from you guys at River City. Boz's whole trip never really interested me, but for some reason when you told me about Ivy, I was ready to go. You likened him to Joseph. At the time, I didn't know Joseph from Mr. Greenjeans, but I sensed something was going on. Who knows?

I remember flying to Chicago. I stayed overnight at some guy's apartment. David somebody. He'd been to Papine, too, I think. The next day, I flew to Miami. I had directions to Ivy's camp from Nate and a load of encouragement. Howard, Bobby Kleine, and a bunch of other characters were hanging around at the house on S.W. 66th Ave. Grumbles mighta been there, too. It was the same night Smokin' Joe Frazier knocked Ali out the first time they fought. I'm pretty sure it was either March 8th or 9th, 1971. The next morning I was off to Jamaica.

I realize we won't remember all the subsequent events in exactly the same detail and context, but we shared a lot of the same experiences, so most of the stuff should at least be similar. And there's one specific concept I'd like to focus on because, to me, it was the singlemost significant motivating factor in the whole saga.

I have to start with Louva Williams - the original Brother Louv before Tommy Reilly hijacked the sobriquet (I remember the exact moment and the circumstances surrounding it when he made the move, too). We didn't get a chance to see Louva Williams, but he was definitely the foundation for everything we saw unfold in the hills of St. Andrew way back when. All the legend we heard about him came to us from those who had witnessed him. Still, it was good enough. I'm not complaining, just getting the context right.

Ivy was a different matter altogether. We don't have to rely on someone else's account. We knew the guy and learned things directly from him. We were able to feel his spirit, guage the essence of what he said and did in our presence, and, ultimately, make our own assessment.

Like you said, Nate, we only knew him for a short time. A very short time, I agree, but he had a much more profound influence on us than all the other characters in the drama combined. Keith and his co-conspirators could never have succeeded in their skullduggery if we hadn't first witnessed the dignity and virtue of Ivy. That's just my view of it.

I have plenty of memories from that time of my life, as I'm sure both of you have, too. Many of them are overburdened with irrational nonsense and impossible expectations. And toss in some insupportable theology to round out the mix. Still, something I consider to be of great value, something precious and infallible, continues to abide with me in spite of my contemptible nature. Why? I don't know. I can't say. Most of our intitial hopes ended up in the cesspool of the consortium that became the EZCC, but I think we actually tasted of the purity of Goud from the Old Man via Ivy. I feel sure of it. But I know we all have our own take on what happened.

There is one aspect of our experience that stands out in my mind above all the rest of the conjecture or speculation. If we hadn't initially embraced this one fundamental principle of faith, I don't think any of the other ignominous banalities - including the EZCC - would have captured us so completely. It was an unfortunate paradox. But the purpose and goodness of what we originally saw and handled of that spirit motivated us to perceive that our works were of merit and pleasing to Goud. It was a heady stimulant. Intoxicating.

I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I was absolutely convinced. I remember spending several hours over a 2-day span in 1972 explaining the incredible phenomenon to Senator Harold Hughes in his office in the United States Senate Building in Washington, D.C. And he listened to it!! We even went back for a longer session the second day. At the time, he was considered a darkhorse candidate for the Democrat Party's nomination for President. I only reference this incident to remind myself what an extraordinary message we were delivering. It is now regarded by most of its original bearers to be a load of crap. How preposterous was it? Hell, I don't know. I guess it's an individual determination we all had to make at one time or another.

But this was the crux of our message. This was the one morsel of understanding that was the basis of our covenant with Ivy. It was the cornerstone of our faith. Outwardly at least, every one of the characters hovering around Ivy's carcass in Papine professed this unified recognition. It was the blessed tie that bound us together. It was a very real conviction among us both times I was at the camp while Ivy was still alive. In fact, it was the only thing of real consequence. Each time I stayed for 3 weeks - the maximum time allotted under a tourist visa in Jamaica at the time. I know you remember the cosmic that drew us to him like a magnet.

We were told unequivocally by all the Jamaicans, man and woman alike, the ones who had supposedly walked with the "Old Man", that he (Louva Williams) had prophesied to them that one would rise up from among them - from the core of brethren who were in attendance during the Old Man's ministry. After his death. And of course, the one who would rise up would then fulfill the Old Man's prophecy. He would have the blessing, embody the fullness of the doctrine by living it, and make all things plain. It was Ivy.

Louva Williams was the forerunner in the age-old story of the Bible. He was John the Baptist to Jesus, Jacob to Joseph, or any one of the ancient prophets in that timeless account who had foretold the advent of the Messiah. And Ivy was the fruit of Louva's handiwork. Jacob had 12 sons, but only one was Joseph. John baptized Jesus. At that time in Papine, there was no doubt. Different ones talked all kinds of shit when they had a moment in the limelight, but when Ivy showed up, they shut their flaps. There was no doubt who had the Bone. None whatsoever. Am I making this shit up, . . . or did we bear witness? I honestly don't remember Samson from Papine. Or Wally, either. That's so! Johnnies-come-lately.

I know I'm not telling you anything you're not aware of already. We were all a part of the same thing. I'm just trying to emphasize something that was so real and obvious to us at the time. None of those other peripheral characters provided us with the elixer of life. Ivy was the Old Man's glory.

Most of the stuff that manifested after Ivy's death proved to be a huge pile of horseshit. Nobody could substantiate louv. We just didn't have it. Keith, Wally, Dougie, and most of the rest of Louva's professed disciples turned out to be vain, coveteous charlatans who were incapable of receiving Louva Williams or Ivy's grace. I wish it had been different. Rupee, Brownie, and Dennis loved Ivy and did their best, in my estimation, but they couldn't withstand the machinations of the aforementioned pretenders to Louva's righteousness. I can't really say what happened with the rest of the old brethren you mentioned - Shine, Fisher, Mitchie, Clive, and so many others - but I never hear anybody refer to that particular tenet that is so fundamental to our faith. All things have value as they are viewed according to his authority - Jesus is the son of Goud.

But that was then, and this is now. I realize none of that stuff makes much sense to us now. What significance does any of it have? I can't say because I don't know. It almost seems impossible that we once held these truths to be self-evident, . . . but we did. And at the time we were as certain as one could be.

There was one thing we didn't fathom, though. And there's no way we could have reasonably have been expected to have anticipated it at the time. That, of course, was the duplicity that would manifest among the brethren. First among the older brethren (Louva's disciples), and later among us. We seemed to take pleasure in devouring one another. No one was exempt from doing it. But that's what happened. I guess it was all part of the prophecy, too. The whole adventure seems so ridiculously surreal now, but we lived it. Almost unbelievable.

I know we're not going to agree completely about all the things that happened or the various sentiments involved with all of it. I'm really not even sure what I believe any more, but I'm sure my experience with Ivy elevated my consciousness.

I honestly don't feel like I'm putting him up on a pedestal when I recount all those events. Mostly, I'm just remembering how I felt at the time and some of the things I did. My perception of Ivy hasn't changed that much. I know he was a man like us, and I don't think I inordinately worship his memory, per se. I do honor his character, though, as I witnessed it, more than that of any other I've ever encountered in my lifetime. And my own father was a hell of a good man. I don't get a chance to say this kind of stuff outside of our limited little forum of exchange, so bear with me.

You said Ivy was a gifted clairvoyant. I agree. He had considerably more discernment and personal integrity than anything I've ever been able to muster, or even imagine. What can I say?

You also suggested that he would be deeply annoyed and embarrassed if I was to revere him somehow differently than myself. But that's just what I did, and he wasn't offended in any way.

One afternoon near the end of my first stay in Papine, a few of us happened to be around back by the kitchen. Blossom was washing and tending to an open wound Ivy had on the bottom of one of his feet. I was sitting with them. It seems a couple other brothers were doing something around the kitchen, but I don't remember them being in range of our conversation. Really, it was just Blossom, Ivy, and me. I don't recall my exact words. I'd already made a half-assed confession within the first couple days of my arrival, but I was burning inside because I was afraid I hadn't dumped enough doo-doo on him the first time (shades of Robert). Anyway, I told him I recognized him as the Christ. Something to that effect. He wasn't annoyed or embarrassed. And he didn't deny it. Instead, he showed me the scars on each of his hands and on the top and bottom of each foot. He lifted his well-worn gold T-shirt and showed us the grotesque scar tissue around his navel. Finally, he pointed out the marks on his neck and the disfigurement of his jaw. It was near Easter, 1971. He gave Blossom and me a detailed account of a hanging at Halfway Tree in Kingston from the perspective of the man at the noosed end of the rope. He said his hands and his feet always gave him pain around Easter and had done so since he'd been young. I'm still not sure what it all meant, but it happened, nonetheless. Who knows?

Ivy saw something of value in my spirit, of that I'm sure. I can't be certain exactly what it was. I can only conclude - and hope - that it was because he discerned that I had no guile. I didn't have an ulterior motive. The only reason I'd come there was to see him. I'd heard something good and had come looking. I had accepted him as he'd appeared to me to be, and afterward my only aspiration had been to tell as many people as I came in contact with what I'd found. I'd stumbled upon the Christ in his humble surroundings. That's the way it was for me in March, 1971.

Then one evening near the end of April, I returned to Papine for another 3-week sojourn as Ivy's guest. It was my second such journey. I think you guys were there. Marv and Andi, too. Howie, Gary, Brad, Bobby, Tommy, Alan, and Jacob. A lot of us. I had a contingent of more than a dozen lost souls in tow. They were all primed to see the Christ face to face because that's what I'd told them. And I'd told them that because it's what I believed to be so.

Judy was with me. Brian and Jennifer were small children, but they were there, too. Clifton and Sarah were with us and several more guys and gals I'd gathered along the way. Basically, I'd told everyone I'd seen since I'd left Papine the first time what I'd found. I told my parents, my siblings, my business associates, acquaintences, and complete strangers, too. I told them all what an astonishing thing I'd discovered!

Ivy loved it. He said I was a champion. The whole hilltop was abuzz with excitement. They broke out the cumina (sp?) and all the other available musical instruments. We sang and danced into the wee hours of morning. It was a jubilee atmosphere. I never sensed Ivy was annoyed or embarrassed by my behavior then, so it's impossible for me to imagine he woudl be now, even when I extol his divine sonship, which I believe he possessed in reality, which the rest of us have only exhibited it in wistful theory. Who knows for sure what the hell's going on?

I'm damaged goods, too, Nate. Far more damaged that you, I'm sure. Not that it matters much to anyone, 'cause it doesn't. The ones who've suffered the most from all the senseless delusions have been our families. I agree with you on that. Brian likens all the old Coptics to the Sunnis and Shi'ites. We just haven't strapped on the explosives yet. Perfect love and friendship reign through all eternity, . . . boom!!

I still have a faint hope. Exactly what I'm hoping for is ill-defined. I regret a lot of the shit I've done in my life, but I don't regret my short association with Ivy. From the tone of your letter, it doesn't sound like you do either. We saw him at the peak of his majesty. I think we were fortunate to have been in that limited number who did. In the end, it didn't do any of us much good, though.

One time when I carried something up to Marv for you back in the 80s, we were reminiscing about Ivy. My lifestyle was way out there at the time, so my spiritual sensitivities were a bit dull. He reminded me of the essence of what we'd witnessed. He was right. Howie turned in to the same cosmic before he died, too. I regard them both. Who knows? That's my mantra, now.

Cliff wrote me a few lines at Christmas. He enclosed a pamphlet that featured an interview he'd given to some local publication down there. He said something to me about looking within and being triumphant. I don't think it applies to me. The pamphlet outlined his solutions for humanity. It was sort of a present-day soliloquy from the "Chief". The gist of it was, "don't shit in the drinking water, but if you do, be sure to filter it." I hadn't heard from him for more than 14 years, so his letter was a bit unexpected.

I'm glad you guys've found your niche. I'm sure you're real busy about now. I always loved gardening, but I was never very good at it. I did manage to grow some helluva sacrament, though, in spite of myself. It's sort of like the blind squirrel stumbling onto a nut once in awhile. Around this place, an old critter can run up on a nut far more frequently than once in awhile. They're everywhere.

God bless you and your family. Tell Kim I said "Hey" when you see him again.

Love,
James Tranmer
17547-050
Medical Center for Federal Prisoners
Post Office Box 4000
Springfield, Missouri 65801-4000