Crime Expert BURL BARER. Edgar Award Winner and NYT Bestselling Author

KAREEM ABDUL JABBAR -- TERROR ON THE COURT!

 

No man in the history of the game has achieved the stats and/or status of Kareem Abdul Jabar. He is the one and only, the incomparable team player whose achievements are a testimony to what one can achieve when you are not in the game alone. He is a good American. His religion of choice and practice is Islam. He's been a devout Muslim decades.  "I don’t think I would have been able to be as successful as I was as an athlete if it were not for Islam.  It gave me a moral anchor, it enabled me to not be materialistic, it enabled me to see more what was important in the world."

Despite America having close allies that are primarily Muslim nations, and Muslims serving with pride in our armed services, and as elected representatives in our American government, there is still anti-Muslim rhetoric coming from talk show hosts in the land of the free.  

American Muslims outnumber Christian Scientists, Unitarians, Seventh-day Adventists, Quakers, Mennonites, and Jehovah’s Witnesses combined. The American Muslim population is also larger than that of the Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, and the Mormons. Now that Islam has replaced Judaism as the "minority religion to hate" in America, we can see that the level of prejudice in the good ol' US of A is just as repellent as ever. Even the flood in New Orleans was used as an excuse to insult and defame fellow American citizens on the basis of religious affiliation. The latest smear campaign is the nonsense that no Muslim has given a donation to help the victims of the New Orleans tragedy. I was not aware that donations to relief organizations required reporting of ones religious affiliation, and that an accounting was made based on your method of worship. Strange thing is, of course, that the same people who rant and rage against those who embrace the Faith of Islam are also big fans of basketball legend Kareem Abdul Jabbar. 

Stealing Elvis and Killing Martin Luther King, Jr -- EXCLUSIVE REPORT!

When Elvis Presley, the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll, died suddenly in his Graceland mansion in August 1977, his father, Vernon Presley, wanted to honor his famous son’s request to be buried on the grounds of his beloved home. However, the Memphis city council wouldn’t make an exception to the law prohibiting burials on private property. So Vernon turned to Ronnie Lee “Bear” Adkins, a big, fun-loving, Vietnam vet and outlaw from a family of “Fixers;” tough men known for “getting things done” when conventional means didn’t work in Memphis and Tennessee. 

This Saturday, 2pm Pacific time, Ronnie Lee Adkins tells the entire incredible story of "STEALING ELVIS" -- an exclusive of TRUE CRIMES UNCENSORED on OUTLAW RADIO, courtesy of our good pal Steve Jackson, award winning journalist and true crime author.

 

Ronnie will be LIVE in the lounge, Steve will be on via phone, and Don, Matt and I will be looking over our shoulders because Ronnie (aka BEAR") is also going to reveal, for the first time, the names of those who participated in the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Be listening to this exclusive and revelatory broadcast!

 

The Day my Father Apologized.

The older I get, the more I admire my parents and their friends, almost all of whom have passed away.  My father was, above all, a good man. His honesty and integrity were without question, and his quiet kindness was a living example to me.  There was only one time in my childhood when he broke my heart and reduced me to tears.  That single event troubled me for years, and I never knew how to bring it up and resolve it. 

About forty years after that event, my father and I were chatting and he asked me if there was anything he did, as my father, that I resented. “Yes, actually, there is only one, and I have never mentioned it. I also have never been able to let go of it ever since I was a kid.”

My father was immediately fascinated. “Tell me,” he encouraged. “Please, what was it?”

I was still a little kid - I was in grade school, and there was a party at our home. We had those often, and my parents would invite their friends. There would be food and drinks and wonderful conversations and eventually the men would play gin rummy.  It was one of those nights, a lovely party, and in the living room Mr. Sam Taylor and Dr. Phillip Siegel were having a fascinating conversation about God, and our obligation to be of service to humanity.  Every time Mr. Taylor said, “God” I found myself moving closer to him.  I wanted to hear everything. I wanted to understand. I was drawn as if I were a a chip of iron and the word “God” was a powerful magnet. 

As Mr. Taylor spoke, I inched closer. He saw my interest and encouraged me to move towards him. My dad happened to walk by, and noticing me standing in front of Mr. Taylor, said, ”Burl, move back. You’re standing too close to Mr. Taylor.”  I dutifully moved back, straining to catch every word.  

As much as I wanted to be a good boy, and keep my distance,  I couldn’t resist. Bit by bit, I worked my way back until I was close enough to hear every word. It was then my father saw my manifest “disobedience.’ 

Dad lost his temper, swept me up and reprimanded me. “No, Dave,”  said Mr. Taylor, “It’s all right. Really.”  Too late. I was paddled on my little rear all the way down the stairs and into my bedroom where I sobbed and sobbed for what seemed an eternity. 

My father listened to his adult son recount an episode he never remembered, and one I would never forget. “If it is not too late, “ said my father, “may I apologize?  I was wrong. Please forgive me.” He meant it. Apology accepted. I hugged him, and held on tight. I still remember his arms around me, but most of all I remember his scent. 

There are times when the longing to be with my father again almost overwhelms me.  I replay memories of my childhood, adolescence, and adulthood -- significant events and insignificant moments.  I watch old home movies occasionally, and there we are: my mom, dad, brother Stan and sister Jan.  Then my nostalgia expands and encompasses grandparents and aunts and uncles, and friends of the family. All of them live on in my mind and my heart. There are times when time itself is malleable, my parents are young and vibrant, my brother and sister are living their high school adventures, and I’m the peculiar younger child standing amidst adults, fascinated by Dr. Siegel and Mr. Taylor talking about God.  

“Tell me something funny you remember from when you were little,“ Dad requested, and the following brief anecdote popped into my mind.  One Sunday evening my family had dinner at the Siegel home. They had a dog named Spot. After dinner, we watched Macbeth on the Hallmark Hall of Fame. When Lady Macbeth said “out, damn spot,” the dog got up and left the room.   

Sewer Rats and Mr. New Orleans! Big plug for Matthew Randazzo V.

I mention sewer rats because my anecdotal research shows that any post with sewer rats in it is going to get traffic, and I really want Matthew Randazzo's new book, MR NEW ORLEANS to get as much publicity as possible.  

 

Randazzo doesn't write true crime  in the same mode as Corey Mitchell or Burl Barer ( I love linking my name with Corey's). Randazzo writes non-fiction about criminal characters -- or they tell their story via his talent.  

"The problem with history," said famed radio hero Pat O'Day, "Is that the people living it weren't always paying attention."  

It is an amazing act of perceptual bravery when someone not only realizes the importance of people and events, but is willing to share that realization and preserve it.  Sometimes such insight can have negative consequences on one's career.  .........................................
Example:   Prof. Edward Granville Brown's contemporaries mocked his fascination with what they considered an obscure religious movement -- the Babis of Persia...a movement that evolved into what is now the  Baha'i Faith, the second most widespread religion on Earth, second only to Christianity. 

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