March 26, 2008

Hello Carl,

God bless you and thanks for the letter. I was a little surprised at first when you said my letter to Cliff was not so interesting because I thought I’d been pretty ingratiating really, but then I realized your disappointment had probably come more from my comments to Nate about his dissertation than the letter itself. Maybe I’m all wet. Either way, it doesn’t amount to much.

Clifton and I shared a lot of experiences, too. I think we go all the way back to 1968, and we definitely spanned 3 continents together. Before we went to Jamaica, we were partners in a couple of wild retail ventures, smuggled a little contraband into the U.S., and toured around this country and others in search of adventure and some sort of understanding. And I can honestly say that throughout all the years I’ve known him and Jackie, I’ve never consciously fucked over either of them, nor have I ever conjured up any wicked machinations against them. And until I disappeared from the scene over 14 years ago, I always had a very real sense of loyalty, integrity, and even some degree of self-sacrifice toward our friendship. I think I know him, and I’m pretty sure he knows me. There is no malice in my assessment of our past or of his letter to me. That’s all.

Yeah, Robert’s a mess, but aren’t we all? Sadly, but a degree of folly is all too typical - perhaps his is a bit more pronounced - in all of us who shed our dignity and sensibility in order to prop up the illusion of the Coptic banner, masquerading as righteousness. I hear various bits and pieces of information about some of the old cast of characters at different time. A 56-year-old white guy who’s lived in Jamaica for the past 25 years was sentenced to 2 years on a federal charge dealing with fraudulent odometers. He’s an old Jew in the salvage and auto parts business. He’s got a place in Mandeville. He’s had some contact with a few of the old Coptics, although he doesn’t relate to them as that. He knows old Jews. One knows another. The people he described could only be Alan, Gary, Eileen, Michael Cullison, and Debbie. Of course, he knew Mike before he died. Alan’s got a place over in Black River. Anyway, those pathetic rascals make Robert look like a tower of virtue. Who knows? Look at me.

I’m glad you’re in touch with Jacob. Remind him that I wasn’t looking for any marks on Brother Ivy, either. The thought never crossed my mind. I certainly didn’t need to see any physical proof (i.e. the "stigmata" you referred to) to verify what I’d already figured out. He voluntarily showed me each of the marks I told you about after I’d spontaneously blurted out that I’d recognized his spirit. Those distinguishing scars were unmistakable and obvious once he showed them to me, but before that moment, it had never occurred to me that there was any such thing. I know for sure Blossom was there when it happened. She was tending an open sore on the bottom of one of his feet, and I had no doubt at the time that it was a nail hole. I don’t know how she might remember the incident, or even if she remembers it, but it’s a vivid impression on my memory. It was over 35 years ago. What can I say? It happened.

You mentioned in the letter that Jake had told you "the unique thing about Brother Ivy was his spirit and that’s what really counts the most." I agree. Ask him for me, if you would, the next time you talk to him to describe some of the unique qualities about Ivy’s spirit and what it means to him now. Seriously. I’m curious. Just as one brother to another. Both of us witnessed an unforgettable event and an incredible man. I’d love to know what he thinks about it now after all the things that have happened.

I know he has to remember the time he, Tommy, and I went to see Senator Hughes. 1972, after Sarah, Anna, and one of the other sisters got busted coming into New Orleans. Jake set up the meeting. It was quite a while after Ivy had passed on, but before Keith managed to usurp complete control over us. We were spiritually naïve to all the elements at play at the time, and that made us weak and way too trusting. We didn’t really question Keith’s motives. I know I didn’t. But once he got control of us, we lost that pure messianic focus and our evangelical zeal. Our purpose was redirected to commercialism. I’m definitely not against entrepreneurial independence and the autonomy it allows - and I don’t believe Ivy was either - but the ethics of that administration is still a mystery. Keith was brutal. We overlooked a lot.

Anyway, let me get back to the point I was making - Jacob and Ivy and Senator Hughes. I wonder if Jake remembers the most animated part of our conversation with Harold. Hughes had been the Governor of Iowa for 2 terms and I think he was in his second term as a U.S. Senator when we met with him. He was also a Democratic Party hopeful for the nomination to run for the presidency against Nixon that year. I specifically remember at one point in the conversation when he said, "I could be the most powerful man in the world." No shit! Hey, we had some fun, especially the second day.

We talked with him for about an hour the first day, covering the arrest of 3 young women from Iowa - his constituents - for bringing several pounds of their sacrament - the ganja - through the airport customs in New Orleans. That was the initial pretense for our meeting. We wanted him to intervene and exercise some of his political muscle to get the sisters out of custody. He made another memorable comment, but I can’t quote exactly, so I’ll paraphrase. He said something like he was the only person on Capitol Hill who would give audience to our preposterous argument without calling for security to haul us away. But he didn’t. He had to go make a vote on the Senate floor, so he had his secretary cancel all his appointments for the following afternoon and told us to come back the next day so he could hear the rest of the story. Something we’d said had piqued his interest.

So we returned the next day for 3 or 4 hours. I know I was perhaps a bit over-enthusiastic during the colloquy (I actually offered him a small plug of herb I had in my pocket and ended up leaving him a green Marcus Garvey book). We told the good Senator that we had, indeed, encountered the resurrected Christ - in no uncertain terms. Yes, we did! And he still didn’t toss us out. Ask Jake, please, if he still concurs with the argument we gave that day in the chambers of the U.S. Senate Building. I know I do. And Tommy’s dead, so we can’t ask him how he feels about it. I haven’t talked with Tommy since early 1990 when I was with Howard, and we weren’t exactly on the best of terms then (I’m being facetious, or course), but Tommy loved Ivy in the way he felt was honorable. What can I say?

By relating this little story - even briefly - I’m not implying that what we said to Sen. Hughes was any more important or heartfelt than similar testimony we gave to a hitchhiking carnival worker in North Carolina, or to a couple of wandering hippie girls in the Miami Airport, or to hundreds, maybe thousands, of other captive souls we encountered along the way. I’m just trying to make a point that I feel puts these anecdotes into context. If we jubilantly proclaimed Ivy’s divine sonship in the higher halls of Babylonian power without fear, doubt, or apology, and then gave a similar testimony with an equal fervency in the highways and byways of the kingdom, I feel certain we must have been convinced of it ourselves at the time. I know I was. It doesn’t really matter one way or the other now. A lot of things have happened in the interim to challenge or dissuade our faith in that premise, but I still maintain its validity - for whatever reason.

I’m aware of the phraseology used in the Bible, clarifying that collectively we are the mind and body of Christ. I’m definitely not against the concept, and I actually pursued the notion for many years. I just haven’t witnessed it yet. Not even close. If, perchance, some group of sincere souls somewhere has realized that lofty estate, I haven’t heard of it. I know the cadre of brothers and sisters we associated with, and broke bread in the name of that holy fellowship, never found it. The simple fact remains - at least from my perspective - Ivy was the man.

This is just a guess, Carl, but I’ll bet you never heard Wally, Keith, or Samson (no "p") extoll the virtue of Ivy. They didn’t mind citing the tidbits of wisdom from the lips of Louva Williams - and rightly so - but Ivy was anathema. I was around those guys for years. I saw them very up-close-and-personal; as much as any of the other brothers and sisters. And I’m not referencing my proximity as some sort of boastful pissing contest. That’s just the way it was. I saw and partook of a lot of shit.

I tried to bring up the subject of Ivy a few times during my more-than-2-year sojourn in Trelawny. Believe me, . . . there was less animosity when I farted loudly during afternoon oblation than there was at the notion of introducing Jawbone’s cosmic into the argument. Those guys couldn’t tolerate the prospect of Ivy’s legacy regaining a foothold among the white folks. I can’t say for sure, but that may have been a reflex reaction deeming it a politically correct practice to make Howie out to be the buffoon. He was a buffoon for sure, but he was Ivy’s buffoon. Ivy used to say the Joker was the highest card in the deck - or sump’n’ like that. Who knows? But you can be sure guys like Ruler, Doctor, Ever, and Nigha Edward didn’t have a clue about Ivy. None of the ones who came amongst us while the camp was up in Crown Land did. Some of the white brothers and sisters who made contact during that period of time had some cognizance of Ivy’s majesty because a lot of us couldn’t help blabbing about his spirit during the odd, private moments.

As you noted, even Ivy died - and a long time ago, too. The simple fact remains: he was a man just like us. Still, something of his spirit lingers with us. I can’t explain it, but I can recall some of what I saw and experienced.

The only times I ever heard any of the EZCC elders mention the Bone were on the rare occasions when they would boastfully and self-aggrandizingly lay claim to his specter: i.e. "We got the Bone!". The concept of a collective body wasn’t on their agenda. And realistically, one would be hard-pressed to get anybody to sign on to that crap again. Every one of the old brothers and sisters, whether or not they’d be willing to admit it, loathe the thought of returning to that garbage. Perfect louv, my ass! And yours, too. The EZCC was a fiasco. Only something fresh and pure could heal the bitterness, and I can’t even imagine what that would be.

All the deadly sins flourished amongst us. Pride - we had bales and bales of it. Covetousness and envy - by the truckload, and we had an excess stored underground in secret stashes. Anger - we had plenty to go around, but it was real shitty quality. Lust - play it again, Sam. The duplicity was shameful, but I can only speak for myself there. And even gluttony - we were all pretty thin, but was had an insatiable appetite for banality.

Did you ever actually reason with any of the black elders about the collective body of Christ? If you did, you’re a better man than I, which really isn’t much of an accolade. But the point I’m trying to make is that logical analysis was not really a mainstay as the Coptic because more and more cult like. I’ll agree that we didn’t know much, nor did we have much to say in Papine, but when we were able to squeak out something from the heart, we were shown a measure of deference and our contributions were regarded as having some value. At least that’s the way I remember the experience. Who knows?

I do realize the rope heads think Haile Selassie was the Christ, but apparently he denied that premise when he came to Jamaica in the late 60s. But I’m not one of them, so that notion means nothing to me. There are literally hundreds of messiah figures or concepts people promote, but I’m not in agreement with any of them either, so none of that really matters to me either. I’m not trying to figure anything out at this stage of my life; I simply try to accept what is and find some way to be grateful for it as we go rolling along to our destiny. I don’t have a lot of control over some things.

The radical transformation you say in others, and then later experienced in yourself, was real. It all came from a source. That was Ivy. There’ll always be controversy about the body and spirit of Christ, but Ivy was the focal point of all the seismic activity that rock the brothers and sisters of that era. What transpired after his death was just the residual effect of his mystique - from my perspective. Everyone has their own mind to formulate a view.

The tapes Harry had weren’t from Papine. I know they had an effect on you, and now that you mention them, I remember the cosmic when we sat around Star Island, or wherever, listening to them. I won’t disparage the chant too much, even though we were off key most of the time. Most of us were sincere, but one can easily distinguish between free, spontaneous, joyful thanksgiving and the compulsory, labored offering we usually croaked out. Just think about Apple, with one hand to his ear for some ungodly reason, bleating out those offensive sounds. Even a merciful Goud couldn’t have mistaken that for praise. Aaarrgh! I probably wasn’t much better, but he was impious. The so-called reasoning usually consisted of Keith or one of the elders grumbling some canned cliché, or a verse from the Bible, followed by a chorus of sycophantic "yes, man"s and "Rasclot"s. If you listened closely enough to them today, I’m sure you’d hear my voice in the choir, too. But I think if you were able to listen to the tapes again, you’d come away with a very different perception of their value. Just my opinion. There was very little, if any, reasoning, and none of it was divine. That’s so!! Thanks, Wally, . . . I needed that. Bumbah!

That’s not the way it was in Papine. Most definitely not when Ivy was in the house. Nothing was dull, boring, or compulsory. The cosmic was always fresh and effervescent, full of life, and I always felt like I was being revitalized. I couldn’t wait for him to show up when he wasn’t with us. That’s the way I remember it. Nostalgia is wonderful.

I’m grateful for the correspondence I have with you and Nate, and occasionally with a few others along the way. I’m thankful my family’s reasonably stable, in spite of my less-than-stalwart performance. Judy’s been the anchor, and I was fortunate to have hooked my wagon to hers. I don’t expect any earth-shattering transformation, but I’ll take anything beneficial that comes my way. I hope to maintain a mustard seed’s worth of faith in the ever elusive Red Dragon, and so far I’m doing okay. I really don’t have any worries. Ignorance is bliss. Things could always be worse. God bless you.

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

P.S.

I got another letter from Cliff. Down home and personal. Wow! He said he’d read the letter I’d sent to Nate, and I think that it may have elicited at least some of his candid comments. Thanks, Carl. I guess I never could have anticipated his current view of that whole experience. So it goes. Remember earlier in this letter when I said I was pretty confident I knew him. Yeah, . . . well, strike that. Dig a little deeper and behold some very interesting observations. More blessings on your head, belouved man. You perform what I consider to be a unique and hallowed service to your sisters and brothers. And your motivations are pure. Nathan wrote again, too. In my estimation, he’s a sincere and humble man who’s honestly searching his own soul in an effort to resolve the questions of his conscience. I intend to answer him when I’m finished with this letter to you, and then maybe I’ll be able to formulate a response to Cliff. When I do, I’ll make a copy of each and send them to you. I welcome critique or, or you feel it necessary, rebuke. Louv.