Live Free, Ghislaine’s Motto

DATELINE: NH Hideaway for Child Molester

 Home Sweet Home!

A new episode of Who Killed Jeffrey Epstein is now required! In the past two weeks, Trump fired the prosecutor responsible for the arrest of Ghislaine Maxwell, notorious pedophile Jeffrey Epstein’s eponymous procurer for a couple of decades.

Apparently she believed the motto of New Hampshire: “Live Free or Die,” as the FBI arrested her in Bradford, NH, in the foothills of Mount Sunapee. There, she lived like Prince Andrew’s consort in exile.

She was not exactly living free:  in December she bought a beautiful one-million-dollar mansion with cash. Miss Maxwell has more loot than you could count. Her hideaway was in the heart of Trump country: most of the locals thought a reclusive movie star had moved into the neighborhood, as the buyer was anonymous.

No, she was simply on the run from federal authorities, and she lived like a star.

The manse, located in cell phone free zone, had a breathtaking window wall view of the mountain. You couldn’t be reached by modern inconveniences. This little house required servants and caretakers, and so you can assume that Ghislaine had her enablers. They were either locals or flown in to do the dirty work.

Maxwell’s father was Robert Maxwell, the notorious tabloid dirt collector. Some claim he worked for Putin, providing photos and grist on political leaders who ended up in the blackmail pile.

Ghislaine procured for Jeffrey Epstein, not for money or love, but because it was a hobby she enjoyed. She ‘d choose and groom those 14-year-old girls for Epstein. She likely whistled while she worked. The British socialite could have fled the US and hidden in one of Prince Andrew’s castles in Scotland (they’re old buddies, or old something). Instead, like most arrogant people, she flaunted her money and lived the high life.

She had a helicopter pilot license and could have fled, but chose to challenge the FBI.

Now her residence of six months in Bradford will be on the market before you can say “child molester.” They better watch her closely in her cell, lest she be dispatched before being deposed.

TB12 Knocks Coronavirus Off the Scorecard

DATELINE: Deflated at Last

Tom Brady is taking his football and heading south.

You can blame the Patriots for not wanting to invest in a man who claims he has found the Fountain of Youth. We recall from history that another gentleman of the old school went to Florida on his quest: Ponce de Leon also thought the elixir of eternal and immortal life awaited him in the bays of Florida.

Bill Belichick now will show he is the genius by winning another Super Bowl without Brady. Heaven help him if his team tanks.

As for Brady, he is trading Paul Revere for Jean LaFitte. He is a trader of the first order, heading for the world of Disney and smart dolphins like Flipper.

If you wonder if he will be motivated, you never followed Deflategate, which sent him reeling into a new stratosphere.

Some never believed Belichick would let it go this far, but that parallel universe: In Bill We Trust, now is on confederate tender.

The all-seeing eye of money is looking back at the Patriot Place and finding that TB12 is a franchise that will sell more jerseys with a new logo.

As for Brady in New England, it was NEVER his home, and if you think he won for Boston, you are deluded. He happened to win while in the Greater Boston area. He would have been just as elated to win in Tampa Bay over the past 20 years.

He never spoke a bad word about Aaron Hernandez, and we figure he will give Belichick the same courtesy.

Now, the curiosity factor will follow him, eyes moving across the gridiron looking for a train wreck.

Thomas Crown: An Affair Not to Remember?

DATELINE: What Should Have Been?

 Stand-in graveyard?

In 1968, one of the ultra-cool movies that was meant to be an antidote to the growing counter-culture of long-hair and hippies, was Norman Jewison’s stylish caper film. Sexy cool, with dune buggy rides on Crane’s beach in Ipswich and rooftop brunch on a patio in the South End of Boston, this was your ultimate sophistication.

The Thomas Crown Affairwas meant to be a vehicle showing off a Brahmin Bostonian outsmarting a beautiful insurance agent at his hobby of “crime.”

It has all the looks of a film back in the late 1960s when Alfred Hitchcock wanted to drag Grace Kelly out of retirement with the promise of another Cary Grant co-star vehicle. It’sTo Catch a Thief in reverse. However, nothing panned out. The film settles for second-best.

Hitchcock also had Tippi Hedren under contract—and so they could not even bring her on as the beautiful insurance agent. Yet, Faye Dunaway is clearly wearing the designer outfits and living the life of a millionaire investigator meant for Grace or Tippi. She tangles with a guy in a Brooks Brothers suit who pretends to be a millionaire executive, but looks like a motorcyclist in posh dress.

No doubt that Steve McQueen looks dashing, but we never believed for a second that he could play polo or chess. Not only that, the film looks like it was supposed to play out in London, but they had to settle for Boston. McQueen reportedly could not master a Boston accent and gave up half-way through the film.

It’s the ultimate double-cross thriller that Hitch loved to do, but Jewison throws in modern elements like split-screen moments (all pointless) and Noel Harrison (not Rex) sings “Windmills of Your Mind.” It seems even Dusty Springfield turned them down.

The climax of the movie takes place at Cambridge City Cemetery, a stand-in for ritzy and prestigious Mount Auburn Cemetery across the street, no doubt. We were a tad shocked to see filming near my mother’s recent burial site back then, not far from her grandmother.

Some films you may remember for all the wrong reasons.

 

 

 

 

 

Patriots Receive Their Come-Uppance!

DATELINE: The Empire Collapses 

 

Many Patriot haters have waited 20 years for the moment. The parallel in history may be the Fall of the Roman Empire: the barbarians are at the gate, and Belichick and Brady are fleeing the chaos.

The Mighty Patriots have struck out.
There is no joy in Mudville or Foxboro. The Pats have lost their bye week—and probably their souls.
If anyone is stunned by the Dolphins beating the Pats, you have not been paying attention. For weeks now Tom Brady has been playing like a man who will be at quarterback until he is 50—in the sandlot league.
Bill Belichick is like one of the Magnificent Ambersons: he is receiving his come-uppance.His vaunted defense looked like Swiss cheese and most of his players will leave in free agency. Even Brady is expected to go out with a bang elsewhere.
History runs in cycles, and the Patriots have been top dog for a couple of decades, but now they are heading back to the rubbish pile years of the 1970s. They may spend the next two decades as outliers in the AFC.
We expect that Josh McDaniels and Julian Edelman will jump ship. Already the Florida authorities are emboldened to file new felony charges against owner Robert Kraft for human trafficking, however preposterous that seems.
Now they will feel Miami is on a roll.
On the eve of an ice storm in New England, the New England Pats may be entering a new Ice Age. The berg has hit their flank—and the unsinkable franchise has sprung a leak.
About 20 members of the team are ready for free agency—and don’t let the door hit your rear on the way out.
Don’t cry for the Patriots, Argentina. Tom will be playing there next season.

Cousy Loses Mettle over Medal

DATELINE: Tarnished Hero with Feats of Clay

 Chump or Champ with Cousy?

On a night when when usually are talking about Ancient Aliens, we find ourselves facing a true abduction crisis and missing time. It seems that Boston Celtics legend, Bob Cousy, has been taken prisoner to the White House, turned back the clock to the years before the Civil Rights movement, and now he has become the voice of white racist America in the Oval Office.

Yes, Bob Cousy who reconciled whatever differences he had with fellow NBA legend Bill Russell has rekindled the fires.

He received a pat on the back from the President he most admires apparently in his lifetime. What happened to the Celtic legend?

Well, his Jesuit roots of Holy Cross conservatism emerged. Perhaps you can write him off as the aging hero outliving his standards of integrity. Growing old does not always mean you die of Alzheimer’s. Sometimes you simply become the epitome of everything you lived through and fought against.

Time makes us all doddering fools and blithering idiots. You can outlive your usefulness and your own personal values. It’s called betrayal by younger idealists, but it is far more powerful than that.

Cousy once teamed with Tommy Heinsohn on the parquet floor of the Boston Garden, and they were both brilliant and talented men beyond the game that made them famous. One season in retirement years they were even teamed up as fellow commentators for a season of Celtics games on TV. It was extraordinary to behold.

When they grew furious with each other, now and then, they simply called each other, “Thomas,” and “Robert.”

We wonder if Tom has started calling his friend of lifelong years, “Robert.” We know that William Russell may be doing so, if he is even speaking to his one-time nemesis in the locker room. Time wounds all heels and we have an Achilles heel ripped  apart by the President Medal of Freedom. 

Perhaps Couz showed his mettle by doing and saying whatever needed to receive his Medal. 

He stood next to a man who wants to give himself the Congressional Medal of Honor. Heaven help our old heroes from their blithering end of days.

Tom Brady’s Cloudy Future?

DATELINE:  Tom’s Time Runs Out

bad bad bundchen Mrs. Tom Brady.

Reading Tom Brady’s tea leaves is pretty difficult, because he doesn’t drink tea!

Nevertheless, fans have requested that we look into the future of Tom Brady, as we have written several books on him and his general flakiness (See Tom Brady Swinging on a Deflategate, Amazon, paper and ebook).

It appears first that he has signed a large new contract extension with a raise that makes him the sixth highest paid player among NFL quarterbacks. Not bad for a GOAT.

Once again this year Brady gives the Kraft team more money to spend on other players or massages.

The big news is that he has put his house in Brookline, Massachusetts, up for sale for under $40 million buckeroos.  Well, it is up and down.  It appeared to be for sale, then it wasn’t. There’s no hurry as he intends to play for at least one more year in New England.

Patriot fans, who have come to think Brady may be a mere mortal  after all, believe he may play just one more year and move to New York where he has bought a high-priced condo for his wife and children.

Like former teammate Gronk, Brady has loyalty to New England only as far as he can play as the team is concerned.

Gisele, one time model and actress, his wife, a billionaire in her own right, has other interests in the big city of the Big Apple .

These two are a Met gala power-couple with international ties who belong only to the money they have: no teams, no countries, no political groups .

Tom and his wife Gisele can do anything they want, and they will.

In the meantime, Tom has admitted that one of his great frustrations is that his second son doesn’t want to be an athlete like dear old dad. This young man is independent and wants to follow his own star, which may not be his father’s star.

All in all, the tea leaves say Tom, star of Tom v. Time, is headed for big changes in his ticking biological clock.

Ossurworld has written several books on Brady, including Tom Brady Swinging on a Deflategate. Available on amazon.com in print version or e-book for smartreaders.

 

 

 

Druids Take on Ancient Aliens

DATELINE: Stone Chambers!

stone chamber

The seventh episode of Season 14 of Ancient Aliens  puts attention on the strange stone chambers that permeate New England and upstate New York. These rock formations were first noted by settlers in the 1600s but may go back thousands more years.

Nearly all these structures are noted for their roofs of flat stone, weighty and impossibly piled atop smaller braces of stone.

Our ancient alien theorists are not content to leave these structures to chance. In their opinion, Druids and Celtic priests came to these places because of magnetic anomalies.

Alignments with the sun mean these locales were not exactly root cellars.

No doubt about it, the stone formations and Balance Rock and their ilk have resemblances to Stonehenge.

There are also human sacrifice tables with drainage, which seems a bit much for aliens, but likely in logic when it comes to humans trying to appease or attract these Shiny People.

Yup, according to Ancient Aliens, those red-haired and blue-eyed Irish or Celtics may be descendants of a space tribe that colonized England and Ireland but sent emissaries to New England’s Mystery Hill.

The episode is more in the line of David Childress who tours some of the sites—and much evidence of Whitney Strieber is linked to the forces from other dimensions that emerge from ancient stone chambers. Communion may not be a story of mere space aliens.

This leads to time travel, portal and vortex issues. Frozen time and space in New England is a common theme, as the series cites Rip Van Winkle—yet the same could be said of Portrait of Jennie too.

They seem to tie ghosts to extra-terrestrials, but we suspect that spirits are indeed beyond the terrestrial world we live in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Titanic Leap from Shelf

 DATELINE: Shocked in the Library!

leap from Titanic   Side by Side on Shelf: DVD titled Last Mysteries of the Titanic, next to photo or Richard White in Titanic’s Reading Room.

Oh, poltergeist generally are puckish spirits who have a tendency to throw items or create havoc with a brazen sense of humor.

We have posted a video on YouTube that shows a DVD named Last Mysteries of the Titanic, sitting next to a photo of Richard White in the First Class Reading Room of the Titanic, that took on a life of its own—and jumped from the shelf leaving me speechless.

Maybe the headline for YouTube should be “Ghost Throws Book at Writer.” My spirit guardian Richard and I would receive more hits, searches, and bingo moments.

In my Titanic Memorial Library, where my roommate spirit Richard spends some time, several psychics have noted that he always has a playful sense of fun.

The library is a commemoration to him, as he lived here once long ago, and then he died on Titanic, celebrating his college graduation on a maiden voyage of a luxury ship.

Earlier my security camera had mysteriously fallen down from its perch in the library where it had been completely secured with duct tape. It provides a late-night glimpse into the space where orbs, noises, and things that go bump tend to congregate. No one really wants to be there after dark.

However, around 8pm, still with dusk at hand, the camera had fallen onto a cushion on a chair. It could be re-secured before total blackness fell. Yet, later in the early morning hours, the camera fell again. I was not going in there at that hour.

Having an early morning cup of coffee to bolster the latest visit around 6:30am, we headed over there to restore the camera and face it directly at the floor-to-ceiling shelving of books and videotapes.

Once there, we accomplished our mission and stated aloud to the spirits present that we would check on the other memorabilia and souvenirs to see if they had fallen too.

Walking to the books, we were ginger in our steps, keeping an eye out for oddities. Upon looking at the books, we were startled when one of the DVDs came off the shelf just as we asked, “Has anything else fallen?”

You can see the incident caught on camera here.  It is posted on YouTube.

The movie in question on the shelf was a documentary on Titanic, of course. What else would jump off the shelf like a passenger trying to disembark a sinking ship?

As you can see from the footage captured, your host was clearly startled. It must have amused Richard and the other resident ghosts of the library.

It’s just another day at home when your housemates are spirits from another era.

Red, White & Boo Sox

DATELINE: Trump Hits for the Cycle!

King John Henry & King Trump Kings: John Henry & Trump!

Donald Trump did not disinvite this team from his chicken-wing fast-food White House. That’s likely because the Red Sox self-determined that players of color (who actually were the heart and soul of the World Series) chose to avoid the ceremony.

Unlike other times, Trump did not blanch white at the idea that players of color showed him disrespect. He seemed pleased.

So, who did show up? The team insists that these winners are not losers in the race divide of America. Yet, we begin to wonder if the team we see on the field this season will amount to a hill of white fava beans.

Sean Spicer, Sox fan and former White House official, was stopped at the door for being a media member. So much for the goldfish memory of Trump’s team.

You cannot have half the Red Sox team in discord against the other half—well, you can, but these are not repeat winners. This year they appropriately stink up Fenway Park.

These are the whiter than white Red Sox from the town where black players have repeatedly complained about racist taunts from the fans.

The billionaire ownership has dismissed these failings in the fans. Indeed, one owner, named Tom Werner, was the man who hired Bill Cosby and defended him against all the charges made by women whose legal redress sent the Coz to jail. The other supercilious owner is King John Henry VIII whose elitism may rival Trump. You’ll never catch John Henry in a massage parlor like his fellow billionaire owner, Robert Kraft.

Trump did not breathe the name of Alex Cora, the Puerto Rican manager, who has lambasted the racism of Trump. You’d not find any White House credit given to the man whom Boston media and fans lauded as the reason for the World Series victory in 2018.

Red Sox white nationalist supporters claim that baseball is apolitical. The question is what exactly is an apolitical sport? As we recall, the origins of baseball were that it was a game for “white gentlemen.”

Black leagues were separate and kept unequal for 100 years. The Red Sox, we remind you, were the last major league team to integrate. Pumpsie Green was their first black player—and he sat on the bench for years.

Welcome to the White House, you white suck-up Sox.

 

 

 

Decorating a Titanic Memorial Library

DATELINE: Happenstance Happening!

numbers

Two Newspaper headlines, one Puzzling Puzzle

When you do not expect surprises in the memorial library of the Ghosts of Mill Circle exhibit, you will most likely find them. We have been putting together a memorial to Richard Frazar White, who loved libraries, and spent his last day in the First Class Library on Titanic before it sank from a destiny with an iceberg.

As part of our decoration plan for the library’s ambiance, we are collating together all the various items or collectibles we hold from our research on several books: Tales of a Titanic Family and Ghosts of Mill Circle.

We knew we had somewhere in storage a jigsaw puzzle of the New York Times front page that announced the sinking of the great super-liner. We first put it together in the early 1980s.

We had to rummage around boxes of never-unpacked belongings that we brought to this house where the Titanic victims once resided.

To our utter amazement, the puzzle we put together in 1980 turned up in a large bag. But it was not the one we sought. Forgotten long ago, we had bought and put together a second puzzle. The alternate puzzle was 1000 pieces of a dark night with a listing Titanic near an iceberg.

Not only were we surprised to find this item, but we had no recollection of ever putting it together. Yet, the box contained a puzzle that had been worked on—sometime in the past, likely the 1970s.

Deeper in the bag was the puzzle we sought: the New York Times headline page. It was not what we recalled at all: it had a wide black border and a smaller image than we remembered. We dusted it off and brought it to the library where it fit neatly on a shelf.

We looked at the box cover with its image—and a sidebar of “1500” which referred to the number of pieces and complexity of the puzzle.

When we turned around to look at the opposite wall, there we placed a front page of the Boston Globe of the Titanic disaster.

That headline read: “1500 Dead.”

It was a mirror or a parallel to the puzzle box that was on the opposite side of the room. We had never made the connection that 1500 pieces corresponded to 1500 lives: each a piece of disaster.

How eerie and uncanny it seemed to us. Others mentioned that it was all part of the mystery and mystique of our library, in a house once owned by two of the victims of Titanic’s catastrophe.

Death in April at Mill Circle

 DATELINE: Mr. Ralph Arrives at Stage Depot in Sky.

 

A weekend In mid-April in Boston can be overwhelming:  the calendar will fill up quickly with Boston’s Marathon weekend, Boston’s Patriots Day when the British evacuated Beantown. There is also the anniversary of Wilkes Booth shooting Abe Lincoln, and the commemoration of the sinking of the Titanic. Throw in Palm Sunday, and your datebook is overwhelmed.

Our burdens increased at Mill Circle on this 107th anniversary of Titanic’s meltdown, and the 154th year after Booth killed the President at Ford’s.

We noticed on the cold, rainy morning that Mr. Ralph, the giant shire horse who lives in our Great Barn, did not emerge with the other four stablemates.

The shire horse is bigger than a Clydesdale. Mr. Ralph clocked in at 2000 pounds and 32 years of age. Earlier this week, he had fallen down in the corral and took nearly half-an-hour to regain his footing. He kept resting his head back on the grass.

We know he was overworked even in retirement. Earlier that morning, he had been saddled and ridden for an hour.

Now on a day that we usually only make a short trip to Riverside Cemetery to visit Richard in his grave and his mother Edith in an unmarked area next to him, we had commotion next door.

We had never seen a super-large horse ambulance, brought in from some visiting town, vets, rescue workers, and assorted onlookers. A dozen cars and pickups clogged our small Mill Circle. It took a while for them to put straps on Mr. Ralph, put a stretcher under him, and have a truck drag his body out of the barn.

Yes, it was undignified for the glorious old beast. Yet, it was better than being stewed up for glue or gelatin. The other horses in the corral were agitated by the event.

As much of respect could be found when a gray tarp was put over his massive dead lump of mottled golden brown hide.

When we returned from our pilgrimage to Richard’s grave, they were taking each of the other four horses over to Mr. Ralph to show them their fallen comrade. The tarp was lifted, and each horse spent as much time as he wanted at the body. It was a strange ritual: one horse wanted nothing much to do with it.  A mini-horse mate spent considerable time looking and nodding.

Two others kept bending down to sniff him and raise their heads. It was a repeated action.

Later we learned that Mr. Ralph would be buried behind the Great Barn of Mill Circle, perhaps near the grave of the unknown murdered peddler of 1826 whose burial spot remains unknown. His ghost haunts the barn. Perhaps Ralph saw him during his tenure at Mill Circle.

Clinging to the Titanic!

 DATELINE: More Paranormal Events!

With the 107th anniversary of the horrid sinking of the great ship Titanic, we have found our house more active in terms of spirit noise and incidents.

For those who have followed these adventures in books like Tales of a Titanic Family and Chess-Mate from Titanic, as well as Ghosts of Mill Circle, you know that Winchendon Springs is an unusual hot spot when it comes to the famous luxury liner.

Two residents were born and lived here, owned the houses around the mineral spring that once flowed here. Percival and Richard White, father and son, were booked on the Titanic in first-class D deck. Both perished.

Only 21-year old son Richard’s body was found and his mother buried him nearby.

Without knowing at first Richard’s connection to this house, we bought it in 2013. And, immediately it became apparent we were not alone. Many psychics visited the house and reported that Richard had followed me here. He may have led me here and influenced my purchase.

He has told psychics he feels safe here in this house as my guest.

My own obsession with Titanic, inadvertent at first, has grown upon learning Richard White is here, as my guest.

The Silent Scream may be a vehicle for his expression to me. Every day the little deflated blow-up doll shrivels and re-inflates on its own. Placed next to a model of Titanic under Richard’s portrait, it falls to the floor every night.

This past weekend was different.

The video camera alarm sent me a signal that there was movement in the library where these artifacts are kept. Upon going in there in the morning, the little doll was not on the floor, as the photographs show.

He was dangling precariously from the bow of the Titanic. It was said by witnesses that Richard was among those who jumped off the ship.

This particular sign has never before occurred. It is startling to see.

When I taped the situation for showing others, I heard nothing. However, when I played it back, there was a remote sound like the ringing of a cell phone in the distance. It is inexplicable.

The Silent Scream by Edvard Munch was painted during Richard’s lifetime and somewhat famous as an expressionistic cry unheard. A neighbor took a photo of the main house in the 1940s and in the window was the odd shape of the silent Screamer.

The doll I bought in 1990 for a college writing class for inspiration has stayed in my office at the college for years, and lately in my home. Since moving here, it regularly deflates and blows up by itself.

Once, I picked the deflated item off the floor when it had fallen—and it began to inflate in my hands: one of the creepiest manifestations in a house full of them over the past five years.

That is: until this latest event.

Ghost Chessmate Plays on a Dusty Board

DATELINE:  Titanic Ghost Still Present at His Home

chessmate plays Titanic Spirit Plays On!

Eight months ago, after psychics who visited noted that the ghostly spirit of a young man at Mill Circle wanted to play chess, we offered to keep you updated.

So, here is the first: Saturday afternoon, entering my second floor office, a small place where all blogs are created, we were greeted with a scene of chess movement. The ultimate gesture: the White King was down, a sign in the game of a concession.

It is a humorous response to make one’s first move the endgame gambit.

The chessboard has collected dust, never touched all this time, under the photo of the young man whom we were told was the potential player. He loved to play chess, often with his brother in this neighborhood.

At age 21 Richard White died in 1912 on the Titanic.

He was born and lived at this property, which was the family estate, the headquarters to their 19th century mill empire.  When his body was recovered a few days after the Titanic sinking, he was brought to the Winchendon Springs cemetery a mile away and buried alone. His father’s body was never recovered.

For over thirty years odd encounters with everything Titanic perplexed me.  This has included purchasing a property where Richard White lived. We had no idea at the time, but quickly learned from neighbors that conditions at Mill Circle were paranormal, not abnormal.

Richard sent a variety of signs he was here, present in this home, where he was welcomed. Where else would he go? Where else might he want to be? Psychics told me that he felt safe here in my home.

Psychics said he chose to stay here, and as a free spirit could go anywhere.

When the chessboard in the library featured odd moves and inexplicable actions, we set up another board where I could keep an eye on it daily, telling Richard that he could play the author of The Ghosts of Mill Circle right here.

It seems he has taken up the offer.

We placed a small model of the Titanic in mid-board, partly as a totem, and a yellow rose rests near the board as a symbol of friendship.

And, from a dimension where time is timeless, he has given us another sign, albeit a funny one by conceding the game in his first move.

We love it, Richard, and appreciate your presence.

Moby Dick: What Really Happened?

 DATELINE: Whale of a Story

Essex hit by whale   Moby Rams Essex!

You may have blanched at reading the mammoth novel by Herman Melville—few professors require its reading nowadays: too long, big means Moby Dick.

The true story of what intrigued Melville may be better fodder for the short attention span of a one-hour documentary.  And so, we have come down to Moby Dick: the True Story, made in 2001.

Out of Nantucket, the whaler called Essex sailed in 1819, not long after Frankenstein appeared, and it was its own horror story, all true. Though Melville made the First Mate named Starbuck, that was actually the name of one ship’s owner. The captain was Pollard, and his bossy First Mate was Owen Chase (who wrote the memoir on which Melville based his whaling epic). He is played by Shawn Reynolds in the film.

Yes, the Essex encountered the largest whale ever seen at the time, and he was old and cranky. Though one expert on the documentary insists that whales are basically docile, some old males can be aggressive. To say the least in this case.

Perhaps he knew what the ship’s purpose was: and it infuriated the whale.  According to the reports, he rammed the ship once until he was nearly unconscious and then came at it again to sink it.

Therein lies a novel by Melville. The whale did his worst, and as a force of the universe, sailed off, leaving his Ishmael on Queequeg’s coffin.

In real life, three small lifeboats fled the scene for a horrific sail for months. They resorted to cannibalism, and ultimately drew lots to murder one of their mates for dinner.

Three men chose to get off at something akin to Gilligan’s Island in mid-Pacific, which would have been our choice too. They survived and were rescued months later.

The cabin boy Thom Nickerson (played by Trevor Ralph in re-enacting scenes) was 14, and he survived to write his memoirs too, but they were not discovered until 1980, hidden in an attic.

Other survivors did not fare well: Owen Chase went mad, and the captain became a night watchman on Nantucket. Melville’s book flopped, and he watched a mountain in the distance from his home in the Berkshires that when white-capped with snow reminded him of Moby Dick.

Champ or Chump?

DATELINE:  Move Over, Nessie!

chump

The American version of Loch Ness Monster, or Nessie, is Champ of Lake Champlain on the Canada/US border, betwixt New York and Vermont.

The low budget documentary, wet with sincerity, is called On the Trail of Champ. We suspect it is hard to follow a trail in water. This might better be called in the wake of Champ.

However, we quibble. When you scratch the surface of this documentary, you hear that eyewitnesses are terribly unreliable. Then, follows about a dozen and a half eyewitness reports.

We also liked the fact that many observers forgot their camera that day, or it was out of focus, or they had to retrieve it and missed their chance to snap a picture. The excuses are legion.

We also hear that there were many hoaxes, often bragged about by the perps since the 19th century. We wonder how many modern witnesses are unwitting victims of hoax.

The other sad point of this well-intentioned and pleasant little film is that it is rife with bad animation.

Self-styled experts seem to have emerged thinking that crypto-zoology is a real field. Poor sods.

The sincerest and most dedicated of all the people chasing Champ is Katy Elizabeth, a pleasant woman who has committed her life to finding Champ and who even helped to push through a law in Vermont to prevent any hunting of Champ. Yet, residents wonder why the Champlain monster is less well-known than Nessie who does not have a minor league baseball team making it a mascot.

The documentary really has nowhere to go and doesn’t know how to conclude itself, and pulls out the environmental responsibility card.