White Jazz

June 22:

A crazy blind man enters the tavern. Random shotgun blasts: his parents get vaporized.

“I got hospitalized, ‘cause I was in some kind of shock.”

Foster homes then—“some nice, some not so hot”—revenge dreams minus a bad guy—the shotgun man killed himself. Trade schools—a knack for cameras—”Old Wylie’s a born shutterbug.” Camera jobs, curiosity: 6/22/37—why?

Amateur detective Wylie-he kept pestering the cops. The brush-off: “They kept saying the case file was lost.” Newspaper study: Sergeant Dudley Smith, investigating officer. Calls to now-Lieutenant Smith—none returned.

He haunted that tavern. Rumors haunted the place itself: bad bootleg trashed the shotgun man’s eyes. He chased rumors: who sold bootleg whiskey back in ‘37?

Bad leads—years’ worth—“like impossible to verify, you know?” Two rumors persistent: “dry-cleaning-cut hooch,” “this Armenian guy—J.C.”

He made a logical jump: the E-Z Kleen shops/J.C. Kafesjian. “I didn’t have any proof—it just felt right. I kept a scrapbook on the blind man case, and I had this picture of Sergeant Smith from ‘37.”

“It was becoming like an obsession.”

Supporting that obsession: camera work. Illegal: “I took snatch pictures and sold them to sailors and Marines up from Diego.”

Obsession focus: the Kafesjians.

“I sort of circled around them. I found out J.C. and Tommy pushed dope and had these police co

Early ‘56—two bombshells hit him simultaneous:

One—he’s outside a Southside E-Z Kleen. Huddled up: J.C. Kafesjian and Dudley Smith—nineteen years older than that news pic.

Two—he gets popped selling snatch photos.

“I figured Dudley Smith and the Kafesjians were dirty together. I couldn’t prove anything, but I thought maybe Smith gave J.C. a skate on that poison liquor he sold. After a while I just believed it.”

He started hatching revenge plots—this Eyeball Man inside him fed him plans. He pleaded guilty to selling pornography—his lawyer said beg for mercy.

“At the County Jail this guy told me about the X-ray lab at Chinewhat a good job it was. I figured I could get ajob there if I got sentenced to State time, ‘cause I knew so much about photography. See, I had a real plan now, and I wanted to do a Chino hitch so I could get next to Richie.”

The judge hit him with three-to-five State. They bought his X-ray experience snow job: Wylie Davis Bullock, go to Chino.

“So I went to Chino and got next to Richie. He was a lonely kid, so I befriended him, and he told me this AMAZING goddamn story.”

Amazing:

The Kafesjians, the Herricks—who fathered whose children? Phil Herrick and J.C.—bootleg dealers back in the ‘30s. The blind man killings—Richie said yes, maybe-it might be Dudley Smith’s wedge. Incest: maybe/quasi/brother/father perv stuff.

“I guarantee you you have never heard nothing to compare to the stuff Richie told me.”

Richie, sissy/voyeur:

“He told me he was in love with Lucille, but he wouldn’t touch her because she might be his half-sister. He said he loved spying on her.”

Richie, compulsive talker:

“He put things together for me. I figured out enough about Dudley Smith to know that he met up with Herrick and Kafesjian some time right after the killings. I figured Smith got cozy with them and took bribes not to snitch that they brewed that liquor. I knew now. I knew these two crazy families killed my family.”

Richie, talking vengeance on Tommy:

“I knew he didn’t have the balls for it. I said just wait—I’ll get you your revenge if you promise not to bother the Kafesjians.”

Richie promised.

“Then his mother wrote him and went through this sob-sister suicide routine. Richie walked Chino—fucking minimum security, he just walked.”

Richie stayed loose.

He got paroled two months later.

“I tried to find Richie. I staked out the Kafesjian and Herrick houses, but I never saw him.”

“That Lucille, though—wow. I used to watch her do the shimmyshimmy naked.”

Months ticked by. “One day right before she killed herself I saw Old Lady Herrick leave a letter in her box for the postman. I snuck up and grabbed it, and it was addressed to Champ Dineen, this jazz clown that Richie worshipped. There was a P0 box address, so I figured Moms and Richie were working a mail-drop thing. I sent Richie a note at his box: ‘Dig Lucille do the shimmy shimmy in her window. Now you be patient and I’ll get you your revenge.’”

The note worked—months ticked by—he peeped Richie peeping Lucille. AMAZING: peeper Richie, amateur bug man—that electronics class did him solid. He walked the straight and narrow himself—movie jobs, parole confabs—nobody knew the Eyeball Man kept his dick hard—

“I started getting these wild ideas.

“The Eyeball Man said I should follow the Kafesjian guys and Dudley Smith around just for kicks.

“I was dogging Smith one day. He had lunch with Mickey Cohen, and I grabbed a booth next to them. Cohen said he was fronting this horror movie shooting in Griffith Park, and this Sid Frizell guy who was directing it shot stag films on the side. Smith said he loved naughty movies, and that Cohen should tell Frizell he had a nice sound stage he could use. Cohen said Frizell was skanky enough to take him up on it.”

He hit the Vampire set—”Man, was this fuck from hunger.” He offered his camera services cut-rate; Cohen hired him; he gamed dumbfuck Sid Frizell—strapped for ideas. “I fed him these incestuous-type bits and all this blinding stuff, ‘cause I figured one day I’d show Richie the finished-up movie. I told Frizell I had smut experience, and he pestered this Cohen guy Chick Vecchio into talking to Smith. Smith gave the okay, so Frizell got to shoot his stuff at this dive down in Lynwood.

“So I got cozy close to things, but I still didn’t have the fucking plan worked out. Then the Eyeball Man came through.”

He said tweak the Kafesjians with a voodoo B&E. Put the onus on Richie-keep him scared—keep him hiding.

“So I did it. I guess it’s like symbolism, ‘cause the Eyeball Man told me exactly how to do things. I tried to blind the dogs with this dry-cleaning chemical, but that didn’t work, so I pulled their eyes out. I broke liquor bottles to goose them on their bootleg gig, and I broke Tommy’s records up ‘cause the Eyeball Man said that would symbolize how Richie hated Tommy. Richie always hated Lucille whoring, so I cut her pedal pushers up and shot a load on them.”

Wicked fun.

“The Eyeball Man said make Richie squirm, so I scoped him out at these motels, getting all weepy over Lucille, and I cut up his bed with this silverware I stole to spook him. There was lots of heat around the Kafesjians because of the B&E and the Fed thing, so the Eyeball Man told me to kill Phil Herrick early. The daughters came home unexpected, and the Eyeball Man said snuff them too. I figured Richie was a fucking escapee, so the cops would think he did it and snuff him on the spot.”

Then?

“The Eyeball Man said kill Tommy and J.C. slow. He said rip Dudley Smith’s eyes out and eat them.”

Now?

“Pancakes and sausage, daddy-o. A nice safe cell for me and the Eyeball Man.”

Licking his chops.

Flapjack batter on a shelf.

EVERYTHING.

Chest pings/headache/dry mouth—Dudley Smith meets the Eyeball Man.