Sand Creek Massacre, Errol & Olivia, Pailin’s big day & Louis Kraft’s dark times

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020
(All rights reserved.)

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


Pailin and I hope and pray that all of you, your loved ones,
and friends worldwide are healthy and safe.

I never thought I’d make it to this wonderful time in my life,
and let me tell you that I feel like the Devil’s got a strangle hold on my left leg
and isn’t about to let go. … Not a good feeling.

Pailin took this photo of me in our front yard—which is always a place of peace for me—after a sleepless night but a good early morning on 7mar2020. I chose to use it here as an introduction to my current writing world and hopefully the beginning of the end of a living nightmare that began in June 2019. Not a promising start for what will hopefully be a very positive blog. At the same time the last nine months have perhaps been the best in my life. My brain functions—it always functions—and it has been key to me maneuvering through a maze of dead ends and false leads while not only making my deadlines, but setting myself up for the best times of my life. If not yet, the answers are getting closer. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)


Sand Creek
and the Tragic End of a Lifeway
has become reality

I completed all of my work at the end of December 2019,
and damnit to hell I miss it! There is a big hole in my life but Errol & Olivia is
doing a good job of lessening the loss (see below).

Available at

University of Oklahoma Press
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Goodreads
and various National Historic Sites and museums

At first this project seemed like it was from hell, … a hell without end. Physically it has cost me a lot. If I had guts I’d post a recent photo here—an image taken between hanging from a limb and yet being able to scramble to safety yet again. When I was young and playing sports, we used to have a saying, “No guts, no glory.” Today I have no guts, which means no sharing of a photo wherein I’m hanging from that limb and it is starting to crack. … If I did, some of you might cringe, and I don’t want that.

Doris and Louis Kraft Sr. in Yonkers, NY, in 1947. Both were born in Yonkers, as I was, but in less than six years would migrate to Southern California, a state they had long decided would be their home after they had driven across the country twice to visit it. (photo © Louis Kraft 1947)

As the days pass, I’m good with where I am. However, I should share some words that I said at my father’s funeral in 1999:

“As my papa got older, his world shrank. By the time he died, the furthermost extension of his world was his neighborhood. And what a neighborhood it was. When I was growing up it was just like one of those fantasy neighborhoods in the ‘sixties TV shows. The world changed, got harsher, different—but not the neighborhood. It remained the same. It was still that fantasy neighborhood from a 1960 TV show. Pardon me, for I know I’m going to forget someone, and I don’t mean to. You all played a big part in my papa’s life, and Linda* and I will remain forever grateful.”
* Linda was my sister (24dec1950–1mar2006).

This was the only software badge that I bothered to capture. Sun Microsystems was flourishing when it purchased Seebeyond, but five years later it was spiraling toward oblivion when Oracle bought it for peanuts on the dollar.

My neighborhood isn’t like the one I grew up in, for it isn’t magical. That’s okay, for many people of different races and cultures surround me. I like this. My house was built in 1928 and I have lived in it since January 1993. It’s home, and I love it here, as my dad did his final home that he bought in 1955 (yeah, I’ve got a ways to go yet). Still, my life has begun to mimic his, for as I age, my world has also shrunk. (Certainly current events have impacted the previous sentence tenfold.) Maybe I’ll talk about it, and maybe I won’t.

Still, I should share that my life includes my small family of six (representing three races); Pailin’s family and friends in Thailand; our Los Angeles connections; and all of my friends that I met during my personal quest of knowledge, exploration, and creativity. This includes writers, historians, editors, directors, actors, artists, museum and National Park Service personal, the entire software world (which played a major part in my development as a writer and human being), and everyone else that has touched me in one way or another.

Sand Creek & the world it created for me

I am going to share photos of some people that have played key roles in bringing the Sand Creek story from the mists of Neverland to the reality of a book.

LK and Glen Williams, my bro for all time, on a road trip to Tucson, Arizona. On 15jan2012 we had just arrived at Mission San Xavier del Bac. I needed this trip with my good friend; some research (walking into the past and reliving it, if only for a short while), but more importantly doing some mending within myself.(a joke times two in 2011; if I ever share these two episodes from my life that are joined at the hip for all time you’d fall off your chair you’d be laughing so hard). … My sister-in-law worked with the Indian kids at the mission school in the early 1970s. I have some photos from that time, and need to find them. (photo © Louis Kraft and Glen Williams 2012)

Alas, there are many people who played major roles in this process but I don’t have images of many of them. This said, I don’t want them to be ignored or forgotten, and hopefully they won’t be.

An obscure beginning to the Sand Creek story in the 1980s

When I was preparing to walk away from the entertainment industry cold turkey in the early 1980s—and I was about to turn my back on writing screenplays as I had already had begun to write and sell magazine articles—I decided to write a novel about race relations during the time of the 1860s Cheyenne wars. By this time I was aware that some U.S. Indian agents were using their government-appointed positions to become rich by working with traders to steal from their wards. At this time my Indian wars knowledge was minimal other than my study of George Armstrong Custer, which was decent and growing.

LK walking with Leo Oliva (left) and George Elmore (right) on the parade ground at Fort Larned in Kansas on 12may2012. NPS ranger Ellen Jones shot this image as we were walking toward the reconstruction of the building that Ned Wynkoop rented from the post trader for his Cheyenne and Arapaho Agency, which was just outside the southwest perimeter of the fort. Since the early 1990s George, who is now chief historian of the National Historic Site, and Leo, who is a historian, writer, and lecturer, have played major roles in my understanding of the Cheyenne Indian wars. Ellen, after a long career in public service, which includes 17 years at Fort Larned, is retiring this April.

I had seen a little of the soldier turned Indian agent Edward W. Wynkoop in general Indian wars books (a paragraph or two here and another there with both saying basically the same thing), none of which I could recommend at this time for no matter how accurate or how inaccurate they were, the authors glossed over their subjects with a scattering of facts. Worse, much of the information was repeated from book to book with little that was new.

Jack Hines art of George Armstrong Custer and Sitting Bull in “Two Trails to Destiny.” I’m not crazy over his text, but I’ve always liked his portraits of Sitting Bull and Custer, even though he based his rendition of GAC on a famous Civil War image of the soldier. Oh, for those of you who aren’t  aware of it, Custer had his already short hair cut before setting out on what would be his final campaign in May 1876; he died at the Little Bighorn on June 25, 1876. I state this as some people who have seen the Warner Bros. 1941 film, They Died with Their Boots On with Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland mistakenly think that the battle site was a short distance from Fort Abraham Lincoln, and it was not. (painting © Jack Hines 1985)

I was well aware of the Indian Ring (or tradership) scandal of 1876 due to George Armstrong Custer’s testimony in March and April of that year. This led to President Ulysses S. Grant’s secretary of war William Belknap’s resignation, and his brother, Orvil Grant, being implicated. An angry president refused to see Custer, and when the lieutenant colonel left Washington D.C. without orders he was placed under arrest. This almost removed Custer from taking part in the 1876 Sioux war. Again, those film buffs who know They Died with Their Boots On (1941) intimately, Custer was punished, but it wasn’t for exposing a fake war due to gold being discovered in the Black Hills but for his participation in the Indian Ring scandal. Also, Custer wasn’t reinstated to command the Seventh U.S. Cavalry due to Flynn’s Custer confronting Grant. No! Generals Alfred Terry and Philip Sheridan requested that Custer be reinstated.

As Wynkoop was good looking, had risked his life to meet with warring Indians in an attempt to end a war, and had later become an Indian agent, I decided that he would make the perfect villain for my novel. I began to research him, and Oops! … He wasn’t who I thought he was, and he wasn’t on the take. I never wrote that novel, but my discovery of who Wynkoop really was led me on a journey that has continued to this day.

Portrait of Wynkoop that has been published in two books and I think three magazines. (art © Louis Kraft 2007)

Ultimately it would be how he reacted to the Sand Creek Massacre that allowed me to be open to writing a book about the subject. This said, it took roughly 25 years before a friend who had a hand in Lt. Charles Gatewood & his Apache Wars Memoir being published and who contracted Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek broached the subject of writing a book that I had no desire to write. He pitched that I had a lot of the required information in-house.

I didn’t have anything close to all the research in-house, but I didn’t know that then. Luckily then University of Oklahoma Press editor in chief Chuck Rankin didn’t give up.

LK with OU Press Editor-in-Chief Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association convention in Oakland, California, on 15oct2011. Chuck gave me the Wynkoop book poster hanging behind us. I framed it and it has been displayed at Tujunga House ever since. (photo © Louis Kraft & Chuck Rankin 2011)

I said “no” numerous times, but Chuck—God bless him—refused to accept my answer, and the rest is history. … Meaning he won me over, we worked out a proposal that was acceptable to both of us, the contract was signed, and I quickly descended into the depths of hell as I struggled to locate mandatory information while at the same time trying to piece the jigsaw of facts and quotes and actions of the leading and supporting players into a readable story.

Although the beginning of the project was a disaster as I searched for what was mandatory to bring the story to life, I did find numerous leads that led to block walls and dead ends. At times this was costly, … not always in cash, but always in time—special time, which is oh-so fleeting for it is something that is gone in a flash never to return except in our memories. This said, some of these failures are worth their weight in gold, for they proved without a doubt that what appeared to be history was nothing more than fiction that had been reprinted so often that it is now accepted as fact.

Gordon Yellowman (left) and Harvey Pratt standing on the overlook to the Cheyenne Washita River village site where Chief Black Kettle and his wife Medicine Woman Later where killed by Custer’s troops when the Seventh U.S. Cavalry charged into the village at dawn on 27nov1868 without knowing who the occupants were. The village site is farther north than originally thought. On that day Harvey spoke about Cheyenne warriors from the past and in today’s wars around the globe. Gordon blessed the village site on this day, and on the following day talked about what it was like to be a Cheyenne chief. (photo © Louis Kraft, Gordon Yellowman, and Harvey Pratt 2011)

Of course there is one instance of this that isn’t true. Actually the documents exist but the Oklahoma state government—in an effort to hide the theft of American Indian land—blocked the access to this valuable information from researchers such as myself as the dark past had to vanish to protect the guilty. This was also tragic to historian Dee Cordry, whose upcoming book on key players that I also write about will be must reading when published. Harvey Pratt, his good friend, and a man I was privileged to meet at the Washita Battlefield NHS during a two-day symposium wherein we both spoke in 2011, provided us with the citation we needed.

My memories of the entire process of creating Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway slowly morphed into the best project of my life. It far exceeded anything from my acting career, anything from my software writing career, and anything from my fictional and nonfiction projects (including articles and talks). This is a big statement from me. … One of the highlights was Gordon Yellowman allowing me to use his magnificent art, Sand Creek, on the cover of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway.

Pailin took this image on 3oct2014. Good friend and great Cheyenne and Indian wars historian John Monnett (center) and his wife Linda took us to the Sand Creek Massacre NHS in southeast Colorado. Before walking along the bluffs to the west of the extended village site Jeff C. Campbell (NHS ranger–interpretation) kindly spent time with us. I consider him the foremost expert on the village and the terrible actions of November 29-30, 1864. He has since provided me invaluable information in phone conversations, and by providing his documentation and commenting on mine. I can’t begin to tell you how much John has contributed to my understanding of the Cheyenne wars of the 1860s. This was a good day for me. (photo © Jeff C. Campbell, John Monnett, Pailin Subanna-Kraft, and Louis Kraft)

I’m already feeling the loss of having a day-in and day-out schedule that was non-ending. No matter what else I had to complete, and there was a lot going on during these long-long years that I had to deliver: talks, articles, software books (I think that my last full set of books at Oracle was 23, which I delivered on deadline—I think the cost for them was $100,000), and a novel from hell (but it contained many of the same obstacles as did the Sand Creek manuscript, and I used it as a training ground). I’m proud of The Discovery, a medical-legal thriller that goes in totally unexpected directions and of the Sand Creek story.

Southern Cheyenne Chief Harvey Pratt (left) on 30mar2017 near El Reno, Oklahoma, when he was honored by the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes for his service to the tribal community. He is with his friend Dee Cordry, an historian and former police officer, on the day of the ceremony. Eleven chiefs of the Cheyenne Tribal Council of Forty-four were present, as were the tribal governor and lieutenant governor. (Good friend Dee Cordry shared this image with me.)

One thing that I have is a brain, and it functions on all cylinders at all times.

But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t a lot of people who help me, for there are, and they range from good friends from my Indian wars, American Indians, and Golden Age of Cinema connections. This also includes archival staffs, library staffs, and book and magazine editors and their staffs. Some I know in the flesh and have spent good times with them in SoCal and in many locations across the USA from Virginia to Tucson, Arizona, and in the case of Olivia de Havilland in Paris.

I have many-many more who have worked with me on the phone, via email, and with letters but have never met in person, and some of these people have become good friends, especially Dee Cordry, who, God-willing, I’ll meet in person later this year (at the moment COVID-19 has put that trip in jeopardy). For a number of years now Dee and I have enjoyed an open-door round-robin phone calls and emails wherein we’ve done everything possible to help each other out with our writing projects. Dee administers a terrific page on Facebook that I highly recommend: Cheyenne Trails & Tales. It is a wonderful location to learn about the “Called Out People,” the Tsistsistas (Cheyennes), and rub elbows with them and other American Indians, artists, writer-historians, and people who know and care about their lives, culture, and history.

Harvey Pratt, who, as mentioned above, came to my and Dee’s rescue with invaluable documentation that is related to his family, but is no longer available to writer-historians due to a law that the state of Oklahoma set in place years back to protect unscrupulous people that were thieves and worse. I can’t begin to say how grateful I am to him for his kindness.

I created this painting from a photo I took of Paul and Connie Hedren at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum Wrangler Awards in April 2012. Paul won a Wrangler for his book, After Custer (OU Press, 2011) and I won one for “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” (Wild West, August 2011). (art © Louis Kraft © 2016).

There have been many others who contributed, and one, Indian wars historian Paul Hedren did an in-depth peer review of the Sand Creek manuscript that was easily worth a bag of gold. So did my other peer reviewer but this person chose to remain unknown. As I know a lot of writers who distain or refuse to consider constructive criticism, I have just a handful of words for you—stuff your egos in a box and do what you can to improve your work. … Once there was a Custer historian who thought that he was God’s gift to Indian wars history. Decades back one of his books was being reprinted by another publisher, and I asked him if he would do anything to improve it. He answered, “No. It’s perfect.” He moved on to the other side many years back. Before he did, I never had the guts to tell him that I couldn’t get through the first chapter of “his masterpiece.” Back to Paul; he’s an award-winning author and a well respected authority on the Indian wars. Thank you, Paul, from the bottom of my heart.

I had hoped to post photos and talk about others here, but due the unfortunate truth that I don’t have photos that I had requested of many of them, along with the fact that I don’t have enough room to do so, I hope to address this in future blogs.


LK’s writing world is an ongoing swirl
of research & creativity

Errol & Olivia

Know that some of my copyrighted photographs have been lifted illegally; ditto some of my art. All I can say is that it is a sad state of affairs in the United States when distortion, lies, theft, and violence are condoned. A sad state. The current government is responsible for this (and I have little respect for most of the elected candidates in both major parties), for most of our elected officials think nothing about blatantly lying while doing everything to better the rich at the cost of the electorate, and in some cases doing everything possible to destroy anyone who disagrees with them.

I know, … a strange beginning to my current number 1 book project. I know.

This photo of Tujunga House was taken on 13oct2016 shortly before nightfall, and for the record our rooms are in constant change. One of the reasons is downsizing. To date the largest hit has been on books and research (and I hate to say it but they are in every room except for the bathroom and kitchen). It’s simple with the books. Do I need them for my current and future projects or will I perhaps read them again for pleasure? If no to either question—good bye. This is similar with the research, except some of the past as well as some that is still in the future is going to move to the Louis Kraft Collection at the Chávez History Library (History Museum of New Mexico, Santa Fe) later this year. I had hoped (and still hope) that this could be an in-person delivery. If not, it will be via FedEx. I sold a lot of American Indian (actually everything I had up for sale last year), Custer, Indian wars, and fiction. More has since been boxed for local bookstores but my health shut that down. COVID-19 has now shut down the local stores (although one bought four huge boxes prior to the Federal government waking up to the fact that the pandemic is real) and a surgery has shut me down until mid-June. More will be eliminated ranging from Custer (my collection is still huge), more Indian wars, probably some film stuff, certainly more fiction (including a first edition Steinbeck along with other key novels), and whatever else I dig up. … Back to the room, which enters into my office and then into a hallway. Change is good, but there’s always a part of me present (and now a part of Pailin is in all the rooms, and you can see some of it here). This said, some of what you see are key to my future writing. The Flynn posters have been up for a long time for two reasons: I like them and each time I look at them they remind me to get the work done! The two small framed images by the lamp are of the pirate Francis Drake for the same reason. The two swords I designed, and they are totally illegal in dueling competition. They are your basic sabres, except that the blades are for épées (where you score points by merely plucking a wrist or arm with the point of the blade) and they don’t bend like foils or sabres, the bells are for sabres but are oversized (and not allowed in competition). Almost all the good dueling you see on stage or in film is with both thrusting and slashing, which you do with sabres. (photo © Louis Kraft 2016)

Progress
Progress is slow, but good. … This is the only way that I work, and honestly I’m thrilled. Just so you know, I easily have enough research in house to complete this project, but believe it or not, since I have returned to Errol & Olivia full time in January 2020 (not counting about four weeks that I have lost due to my health and other work that had to be dealt with, including this blog) my research continues to outpace my writing by easily 75 percent of the time that I have allotted to this manuscript. This is good, for as my knowledge grows so does the twists and turns in the storyline. This  is how I work, and for me it is the only way to work. And this means that I must be focused at all times while being ready to change direction at the drop of a hat.

Scope
The scope has grown considerably, but there’s nothing new here for the growth was already in place in 2015—I just didn’t advertise it. More exactly I needed to sit on this growth for five years. Am I good with this? You bet! Currently this expansion is already over 30,000 words, and more is a comin’.

The reason should be obvious, and it is based upon how long it takes me to complete a polished draft, and the fact that I need to live a long time for there are other Flynn book ideas hovering on the horizon.

What I bring to the table
I wrote these words in August 2013, and they are appropriate here.
I think you need to know a little about me that relates to me being capable of writing Errol & Olivia. Obviously I write biographies, but more is required. I don’t want to drag this out with a lot of words, so we’ll use a few bullets:
  • I discovered Flynn and de Havilland’s films when a boy
  • Flynn’s acting and writing influenced my life
  • While a young teenager I studied fencing with Ralph Faulkner in Hollywood
    • This led to me learning sabre and dueling competition in college
    • It eventually led to me learning “swashbuckling,” or stage combat, and choreographing duels and dueling on stage
  • In junior high school I began studying acting and performing
    • This continued in high school
    • In college I majored in acting and directing
  • For about 15 years after college I attempted to survive in the acting world
  • After quitting acting I have survived as a writer
  • When opportunity presented itself in 2002 I returned to the stage but only in plays I have written
  • I have a track record of bringing historical figures to life in print, on stage, and when speaking before an audience … not to mention my skill with a blade

LK working out with a lady I loved crossing swords with on 3dec1981, as she was a good swashbuckler and fun to be around. That’s our coach on the right side of the image as he and a cameraman shot this workout. Alas, I never saw the filmed footage. (photo © Louis Kraft 1981)

I believe the above qualifies me to not only write about Mr. Flynn and Ms. de Havilland but to approach their lives during a very short period of time in a different and perhaps avant-garde manner. These words are key, for they provide a hint to how I’m writing Errol & Olivia. … And better, I’m going into detail and it’s going to be fun detail; fun and multi-leveled. All I have to do is make it happen.

“Must See, Must Read”
Five intriguing books and five films about the Indian Wars
by Louis Kraft*
Wild West (August 2014)
They Died With Their Boots On (1941, on DVD, Warner Home Video): If Errol Flynn hadn’t played George Armstrong Custer, there would have been no Kraft writing about the Indian wars. Long years past through the present day, critics of this film have pounded it for its historical inaccuracy. Although true, let me invite you to actually research it—which I’ve done since the mid-1990s in preparation of multiple books on Errol Flynn (the first to be called Errol & Olivia). The thrust has been simple: In 1941 Warner Bros. feared being sued, and historical players and facts changed to fiction. Even though the film is fiction, it is so close to truths that have been disguised and altered that it’s scary. I can’t list them here, but trust me, for ’tis true. Don’t buy it? Do your own research. … Errol Flynn’s performance as George Armstrong Custer is magnificent, for he captured the spirit of the man; and Olivia de Havilland is perfect as Libbie Custer. It is arguably Flynn’s best performance, and by far their best performances in the eight films they did together.”
* This column is ongoing in Wild West (by contributors to the magazine).
Usually five books and five films have mini reviews. I made my comments personally related to my writing career. This issue also included two other LK articles.
One, a feature, “Wynkoop’s Gamble to End War,” was, I believe, the best
article that I have written about Ned Wynkoop.

Errol Flynn as George Armstrong Custer in They Died with Their Boots On just before he sets out for Montana Territory and destiny, and the real Custer 11 years before his death at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. For the record Custer set out from Fort Abraham Lincoln in Dakota Territory on his final Indian campaign on May 17, 1876. He didn’t engage Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho Indians on the Little Bighorn River until June 25, 1876. This fact is here for, believe it or not, people have stated to me numerous times that Custer fought his final battle a day or two after setting out. (This image is in the Louis Kraft Collection)

A glimpse at Captain Blood

Here I’m talking about Rafael Sabatini’s great 1922 novel, Captain Blood: The Odyssey, and the classic 1935 Michael Curtiz-directed Captain Blood, which made Errol Flynn a superstar (this term wouldn’t be created until decades after his death) and Olivia de Havilland (and she said this), “a small star.”

This image is based upon a photo taken during a workout shortly before nightfall on 15sept2015. For the record, stage combat/swashbuckling is done with a minimal amount of protective gear, such as elbow and knee pads. Also, in case you didn’t know, the slashing offensive moves have numbers with the same numbers attached to the defensive actions to parry (block) the attack. It’s just like dance, and both combatants must know the moves in slow motion before confronting each other in real time. If not, and one of the duelists gets lost, he/she must get back on track by calling out the numbers so that both parties know exactly what is happening, or simply back off and halt the encounter. I know this for a fact, for while playing Miles Hendon in a 135-performance tour of The Prince and the Pauper in Northern California in 1982 I came within an inch of losing my left eye when the villain got lost and improvised. After the performance the other actors had to hold us apart as I wanted to tear his head off. … When allowed, the first thing I’ll be doing is strengthening my legs, midriff, and arms, and then working out with a blade. BTW, that’s my hair. Yep, sometimes I’m a little slow cutting it. Also I was trying to sell Johnny D. Boggs to allow me to adapt his great novel, East of the Border (Five Star, 2004), which was about Wild Bill Hickok joining Buffalo Bill Cody and Texas Jack Omohundro on the stage. I wanted to play Hickok. Neither Johnny or my great friend and only director this century, Tom Eubanks, weren’t interested. After several years I gave up. You win some and you lose some. Oh, Mr. Eubanks, this image is for you. Guess why. (image © Louis Kraft 2020)

Sabatini’s Captain Blood played a large role in the creation of the Curtiz film, which is in stark contrast to his terrific novel The Sea Hawk. I’ll spend a fair amount of time with the story line of the film, as I think what I’ll say is important. Also, what I have discovered this year has improved my view of the film at least tenfold.

I don’t think that I’m giving anything away when I state that the only thing that Warner Bros. used from Sabatini’s The Sea Hawk, was his title.

That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say about Captain Blood?

I know, … I know, and I know, but I need to say something and it is important:

I could easily add 7,500 words to this blog discussing Captain Blood, my progress with Mr. Flynn, Ms. de Havilland, and the early part of their life and times working together at Warner Bros. The lead-in to this section guarantees that I must keep my mouth shut or face the consequences—the ongoing theft of my copyrighted material, and facts turned into readable prose is a much greater loss than the images. Besides if I share everything there would be no reason for you to buy the book.

I track the thefts. Obviously I don’t have the money to sue each and every cretin. This said, if I ever meet one of them in the flesh, I will deal with them exactly as Mr. Flynn dealt with columnist Jimmie Fidler. Those of you who know Flynn, know exactly what I’m talking about (but it will be juicier than what you know); those of you who don’t will be in for a treat.

E&O on a daily basis

Although writing isn’t everyday, for the simple reason that they aren’t long enough to get everything on my daily list accomplished. More, research is ongoing from day to day. It might be working on tracking down something that may have happened and may not have have happened. Regardless, I must know the answer. Or it might be rummaging through my massive collection of primary source documentation. When I do this, I’m usually looking for something that I know I have and want to add it to the manuscript. Or it might be spent reading selections from my massive library on Mr. Flynn, Ms. de Havilland, and the supporting players in their lives.

One Flynn historian once asked me why I read everything that I can get my hands on that is related to him. This is a simple answer. If you don’t know what is in print, regardless if it is accurate or not, … you’ll never know unless you read it. Let me say this, a lot of what is published is error-riddled or out-and-out fiction.

I bought this book when it was first published in 1962, and although treated with kid gloves it hasn’t aged gracefully. The pages have all yellowed and the cover has begun to darken on the edges. There are a lot of quotes in the chapter on Flynn, but I don’t dare trust any of them. That’s right, my view of this book is not worth stating here. All I’ll say is that it won’t appear in my bibliography unless I decide to use a small portion of it to demonstrate how amoral writers deceive their readers. Honestly, this isn’t going to happen for I’m not going to waste any of my word count on a book that should never have been published.

For example, the nonfiction book, “Get Me Giesler” by John Roeburt (the title of the book is a quote). Jerry Giesler was the famed defense lawyer who took on Errol Flynn’s statutory rape case in 1942. I don’t know what I thought about the book in the dark ages. However, now I view it is a sensationalized piece of crap. Of course it is loaded with errors, some of which are egregious. Outrageous might be a better choice of words here, for when the author introduces that Flynn was again confronted with sex with a minor when he had just married his third wife, Patrice Wymore, in Europe, the reader is told that this crime again took place on his ketch, the Sirocco. As Errol had sold the Sirocco not too long after he was acquitted of the charges in 1943, and didn’t marry Pat until 1950, this error pops off the page. Why? Was Roeburt shooting from the hip and didn’t confirm any of his facts? Or did he do it on purpose to make a parallel comparison? If yes, why? These types of errors also make me wonder how many other errors are present in the book. If ever you read the book, and see what I’m talking about, you should also ask the same question. Mainly, are Roeburt’s errors simply piss-poor research or did he create them on purpose? Trust me, this is an either/or question.

Errol, Olivia & the Sand Creek story

One of the things that took so long to complete Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway was that I needed to get the historical events in the correct order (no easy task) and bring the main and supporting players to life (and this was totally based upon their actions, their words, and what other contemporaries said about them). This is exactly how I intend to present Mr. Flynn and Ms. de Havilland.

Pailin took this image Tom McNulty at our house on 11apr2014 when he and his beautiful wife Jan visited. (photo copyright © Thomas McNulty, Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2014)

I’m certain that many of you who know anything about Errol Flynn’s life are acquainted with Thomas McNulty’s magnificent biography of him, Errol Flynn: His Life and Times (McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004). If you aren’t aware of Tom’s book, or haven’t read it, do yourself a favor and get your hands on it. I first read it when it was published, and immediately realized that it was—by far—the best biography written about Mr. Flynn, actor, writer, sailor, father. It was then and it still is today. I’m proud to call Tom and his wife Jan friends.

Tom went the extra mile with his EF book, he did a massive amount of research and added a lot of information that isn’t present in other biographies—that is, he did everything possible to bring Errol to life using his actions, quotes, and others’ thoughts about him.

**********

Like my writing about race relations between Cheyennes, Arapahos, Apaches (and soon to be Navajos), and whites, I have a fairly large network of Flynn/de Havilland archives and knowledgable people (and most are friends, but due to the distances between us some I only know long distance (those of you in this category I hope to meet in the flesh someday).

This photo of Selene Hutchison-Zuffi was taken in November 2019. She is a historian who works at the Duncan Tavern Historic Center in Paris, Kentucky, who loves to research, is an avid reader (“an avid reader” … my kind of person), and has a deep-rooted interest in the study of Errol Flynn. Because of this David DeWitt made her a co-administrator on his The Errol Flynn Blog on Facebook (also see below). (photo © Selene Hutchison-Zuffi 2019)

To repeat myself, E&O is about their life and times, and if all goes as planned I hope to add a lot that you may not know about them, and not just the good (although there will be good where you thought there wasn’t). All lives are not all good, although in many memoirs and biographies the subjects are pristine individuals without any faults. I have trouble reading these books for all of us—certainly me—have made decisions that weren’t good or mistakes we shouldn’t have made along the way. This is what makes us who we are. Errol and Olivia are no different, and by showing who they were/are will hopefully bring them to life. What I share will not be all positive and certainly not all negative, for the story will be about two people who thought they acted correctly when they did what they did. Trust me, Errol and Olivia were/are two exceptional human beings. Both were/are very intelligent; both were people of the world (Errol beginning with his early days and Olivia when she decided to change her life’s course); both were very desirable to those who knew/know them or wanted to know them; and damn, but both had/have great senses of humor. They were/are real people with real emotions and desires, and not clichés.


I am responsible for every word I write that is published. it doesn’t matter
if an editor messes up my facts or stuffs something into my manuscript that they
know nothing about but spit forth crap as if they are God’s gift to the published word.
When I fix their errors back to what is correct, I expect to see it in print. But sometimes this doesn’t happen. Sometimes the fixes make it into the proofs but then poof! They
are removed from a final proof that I wasn’t allowed to see. It makes no
difference why this happens, for whatever the reason for the errors,
theirs or mine, are now mine and only mine. Everything is on me.
Everything. … This said, I love my editors no matter how livid
I may become when something that should
have happened didn’t.


As with all my writing, and I can’t stress this enough, is how much people help me during the entire process of discovery and comprehension while I slowly piece my manuscript together. The process continues until the work is published, and often never stops unless I decide to walk away from the subject. Selene (her photo is above) is one of these people who has kindly helped with E&O. Better, this has led to a friendship.

This is a library binding of Sabatini’s book that I purchased from a library used book sale in the San Fernando Valley decades ago. It is a 1950 reprint of the classic 1922 work.

Oh, one more thing and it is important. Over the years I have talked about Captain Blood and The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), and some Flynn and de Havilland historians and fans haven’t been too pleased with some of my views—which I will discuss in E&O. This year I have spent a lot of time with both films digging through my primary source research, studying the scripts, and viewing selected scenes from the films that will be highlighted in the book.

To those of you who think that I need a good stoning or tar and feathering for my heretical views, mellow out. My opinions of both films* have improved considerably, and this, too, will be highlighted.

* When I complied a top 12 Flynn film list a number of years back Captain Blood and The Adventures of Robin Hood didn’t make the cut. I know, heresy. Neither did Four’s a Crowd, which I love and would have made the list if it been a top 13 list. Flynn and Livvie, as he called her, shine in this film.

Some thoughts that aren’t new

Before louiskraftwriter.com I had the long dead louiskraft.com, but I didn’t design or control it (I only supplied the words, images, and links). Eventually I couldn’t get anything updated (nothing—nada), and it didn’t matter what I offered $$$-wise to get the website updated. This was a joke, a bad joke, and there were other reasons that I couldn’t get it updated. Enough was enough! I walked away and waited for it to die a lonely death. A website (or blog) must be a living presence on the internet (and the administrator can’t disappear). A website/blog can’t be static. The end had been coming for some time, but when the website vanished—gone as if it had never existed I didn’t know it, as I wasn’t informed. It took months before I stumbled upon its demise. … A fleeting image, a ghost, remembered but no longer reality.

About two years later great bud and Errol Flynn expert David DeWitt visited LA and stayed at Tujunga House in early 2013. I had already been planning to create louiskraftwriter.com (even though I didn’t know what the name would be at that time), and he hooked me up with PressHarbor and set up the key information for the new website & blog. He also provided me with some training, a lot of tips, and information on how to proceed.

See David’s great The Errol Flynn Blog, and also his The Errol Flynn Blog on Facebook, both of which he administers. Selene Hutchison-Zuffi, who has become my friend, is also an administrator on the EF Facebook blog.

David_DeWitt_jan2013

I took this image of David DeWitt in the front of Tujunga House in January 2013 when he visited and helped me set up this website/blog. Great times for LK. (photo © Louis Kraft & David DeWitt 2013)

David is an extraordinary gentleman, funny, bright, and I can’t begin to tell you how many great hours we shared just letting our minds connect and flow deep into the night while we talked during his visit. Certainly we discussed Flynn and Olivia de Havilland during his visit, but we also chatted about our current worlds—his and mine—and our past worlds. David is one of my great friends and a go to-expert that I respect.

We live near oceans. I have a mountain range (Santa Monica Mountains) between me and the Pacific, which means if ever a tsunami assaults SoCal as has have happened to Thailand, India, and many other locations Pailin and I will survive the devastation (I shouldn’t say this, but will: there are a lot of stories to tell about LK and the Pacific and some of them are R-rated). David lives on a beach on the South Carolina coast of the Atlantic. When he shares some of his images that he has taken while walking along the sand it looks like heaven. I can’t tell you how envious I am, if I ignore the hurricanes. … Luckily we have a great relationship that grows and thrives. I just wish that we were both lived on the same USA coast.

As everyone who sees these blogs knows that louiskraftwriter.com deals with my thoughts on writing, history, work, life, opinions, and sometimes craziness. I don’t need to say anything else about it, other than when you visit I hope that I don’t bore you to tears.

The website has been updated; some pages have vanished while others have appeared, and certainly Errol & Olivia is featured under Projects.

Something that hasn’t happened—yet

In mid-September 2016 I learned that louiskraft.com would become available to purchase at a bargain, and I started the process to buy it. Why? I don’t know, but it didn’t matter, for after I had the winning and only bid I was told that they wanted more money. Adios, amigos. Viya con Dios (Go with God). End of subject. No loss for LK.

psk_hallowween_2016_1_ws

Jasmine took this image of Taipae, her dog, and my beautiful Pailin at Green Day Spa on Halloween 2016. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2016)

Timing is always everything. At that time when the website name became available, but before I realized it was a scam, Pailin had presented me with a Thai word that she told me meant “happy.” When I started using it, she laughed and laughed. Something smelled fishy, but what? Finally we agreed that I’d use the word as it related to a friend (forever unnamed) and she’d film it. Afterward she laughed and laughed. We viewed the video together and she again laughed and laughed. I had used an angry interpretation of the word but couldn’t understand why she was laughing. She enlightened me somewhat, but not totally. I told her that I needed a take no. 2. We taped it. Much better, as I came across sincere, but she couldn’t stop laughing when I viewed it with her. Why? She refused to share the reason. I said that I’d post take 2 on You Tube.”No! No!” she exclaimed, “You can’t do that!” “Huh?” Silence. … I pressed her for what was really going on and eventually she told me the word’s real definition. … What it really meant, … and it wasn’t close to what she had originally told me. The word actually meant something totally different—something good, something that’s always on my R+ rated mind (sorry, but no details are forthcoming).—

Pailin at Tujunga House on 22nov2018—Thanksgiving. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2018)

My turn. I laughed and laughed. She was right. Neither tape could ever be posted anywhere. Ever!

*****

Still the two tapes gave me an idea on how to try to expand my writing projects to the public. Heck, you never know—it might even bring in extra money. Wouldn’t that be nice? More important, this idea might be another way for me to raise questions that I need to ask. How can I truthfully write about people if I’m unclear who they were or why they did what they did? … Alas, this still has not happened due to time limitations. Fingers are crossed that it may now be in my near future.

February 14 throughout time …

Time is short, and I don’t have much to spare, but this day has always played an important role in my life. … And it continues until this time. Actually the here and now is much-much more important than ever.

February 14 is Pailin’s day and it is my day, and nothing can
change this. Ever. Night has arrived. The Vette is ready to growl
(something that makes my lady nervous, but it shouldn’t as the car
and I have bonded over the years). We are off to celebrate not
only this special day but also our marriage on this day in
2014—time flies when you are in love for all time.
(photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)


Oh yeah, the wrinkles are deeper now, thanks to the past nine months.
Still, I’m grateful for each and every minute since June last,
for this time has been the most special in my entire life.

This image of us playing in the snow was taken in 1956; most likely at Mount Baldy, which is local to Los Angeles and was an easy drive from Reseda, where we lived in the San Fernando Valley. (photo © Louis Kraft 1956)

My mother was my first Valentine
And she was so for many-many years. As the song that Elvis Presley sang and excelled at, says, “Oh, mama liked the roses in such a special way …,” and mine did, especially on Mother’s day and Valentine’s day. I was a mama’s boy, and I can’t begin to tell you how close we were over the years.

We still are.

It’s hard to believe that she’s now been gone for over forty years.

 

Five women who played major roles in my life
I’m not sharing their names (but you know one of them for she’s in this blog—and she and one other are the only two people I would forfeit my life for in a heartbeat), but some of you may have known one of the other three. There are stories to tell here. Some would make you laugh; others might make you cringe. This said, I’m lucky to know or have known all five. … One I still have contact with and another currently plays a huge part in my life (our relationship has grown and matured over the decades).

My father
He was never my Valentine, but he was forever present in my life … as I was in his (and there are stories to tell here; I could write a book about our relationship). Over most of those years we clashed, and yet he always had my back. There was never a doubt that we loved each other, although at times our actions may have seemed to contradict this. … As the years passed and he grew frail I took care of him, and saw him three- or four- or five-times each week. We ate together, drank together, joked together, discussed our lives (past and present) and enjoyed each others company.

When this photo was taken I wrote for Storm Control Systems, a company that created software that controlled unmanned spacecraft after they were in orbit. We had one customer, the Hughes Satellite Wing of the Hughes Space and Communications Company, which was across the street from us in the South Bay of Los Angeles County in El Segundo. My hours began at 6:00 am and the 26-mile drive was a breeze, but it didn’t matter if I left at 3:00 pm or two or three hours later—the drive was a nightmare (at least an hour and a half to his house and two to mine). I did all his shopping and ate with him about four times a week. Although he was totally against me not following in his footsteps, he saw every play I did locally and read and commented on my drafts, screenplays, articles, and books. On this day (probably a Sunday) we were watching a Dallas Cowboys football game. Johnny Unitas was my man (and always will be). I did like Joe Montana, and Jim Plunkett looked like he played sandlot football (which I did often) but he won some big games. They were gone and I dropped football like a hot potato, except when with my dad—although I did enjoy John Elway’s perseverance. It took Tony Romo (near the end of his career) and Tom Brady to bring me back to football. In this image my dad was enjoying a glass of whiskey and water or Coke, and I may have had a glass of vodka and juice. (photo © Louis Kraft 1998)

My presence, along with a family with three boys across the street, did everything we could so that he could remain in his home. We almost succeeded, but he became so frail that he needed to spend time in an assisted living facility. He was there a week, maybe a little longer, and I could see he wouldn’t leave. I saw him and spent good time with him every day. On a special evening as I was leaving, he said, “I love you.” I always knew this, for during our entire lives together it was obvious. This was the first and only time he ever said this to me.

The next day, February 14, 1999, began early in the morning but quickly turned into a long day and night in living color—a nightmare without end. He died shortly before the wee hours of the fifteenth. This seems like a terrible memory. It wasn’t, for I was lucky to be with him to the end. It was as it had been when his wife/my mother died nineteen years earlier—just him and me (although on this late afternoon and evening three ladies/two are still major in my life) were with me even though a wall separated us when the time arrived. … Afterward my daughter and I were then able to spend time with him.

I’m one lucky cowboy,
for my father gave me the strength to follow my own trail.

Pailin’s perfect day

The following was mostly pulled from social media, but I posted it there so that it
was ready to place here. Those that have already read it, my apologies for
my lady’s perfect day was a major piece of her life and it belongs here.

As some of you knew I had problems beginning in late January before exploding into burning pain by mid-February. Unable to learn how to deal with it online I figured out how to work around this to allow me to escape from captivity even if only for a short time—don’t eat anything.

Pailin playing finger guns with me on 17jun2015. It’s a combination of hide and seek and shooting each other. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2015)

Also, as some of you may know, Pailin and I are much alike. We are goofballs and we make each other laugh all the time. Perhaps this is because we are still kids at heart. We also have total focus on what we want to do, what we want to accomplish, and we do whatever is necessary to make this happen regardless of what we must overcome.

March 10 was an important day in my lady’s life and I wasn’t going to miss it. She drove while I chattered away, kept my legs as straight as possible, and applied pressure to the lower right side of my abdomen. The early morning rainstorm pounded her car while she maneuvered her way through bumper-to-bumper traffic while avoiding numerous freeways. She was heading to the USCIS building in downtown Los Angeles. This is a place that we both know well, and she intimately, for although I have been in key meetings there with her, on this day it would just be her. Oh, if you don’t know, USCIS stands for United States Citizenship and Immigration Services.

The rain had stopped by the time we reached her destination, and this was lucky for us for after we took an elevator up to a courtyard in a mall I led us up the wrong staircase. Outside we should have been facing the USCIS building, but weren’t. Still we crossed the street to figure out where we were. As it turned out we had used the wrong elevator, and the courtyard looked the same to the east and west staircase exits. As we could see the building to the west we worked our way to it. The cane worked fine as did the pressure I held on the trouble spot. Once inside the building and in the correct room Pailin checked in and sat down to await her turn. I tried to get comfortable while standing, but couldn’t do it. We had discussed this, and had agreed that I would return to the car.

Pailin in the huge garage across Los Angeles Street from USCIS on 10mar2020 (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

As it turned out Pailin’s interview was elsewhere in the building. As she reached the door for her interview the person before her exited the room crying. Pailin knew immediately why, for this lady only carried her passport and what looked like her appointment letter. In stark contrast she carried a large briefcase with all the required documentation, including five years of tax returns, all the original documents from her life, which also included our marriage license, photos, her and my passports, and on and on. She also had two books that I had dedicated to her. She had studied for months (including a document with 100 possible questions to a handful of films and slideshows that showed the process as well as presented different questions), and I can’t begin to tell you how much her spoken and written English had improved. She had a good idea of how the meeting would play out and was not upset by what she had just seen.

She called me after she returned to the courtyard, and I hustled to get to her. She was so excited and happy. We hugged and hugged, and I’ll never be able to tell you how proud I am of her for it is beyond belief.

Pailin and LK shortly after see aced her USCIS interview. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

Pailin’s interviewer was a Latina, and the entire meeting was casual; that is, they mostly talked about this and that in Pailin’s life with the USCIS agent randomly slipping questions into their conversation. Basically they chatted and got to know each other a little. The meeting focused on Pailin’s life, civics, U.S. history, and the English language.

Pailin told me that the USCIS agent asked her about the drive that morning and how long it took, her name, her employer’s address, why did she travel to the United States, what is the number U.S. senators, how long has she lived at her current address, when is the presidential election, how did you meet your husband, … There were no numbers to the questions, and she answered everything correctly. This also included few questions on a tablet that Pailin read and then wrote her answers. After a while the interviewer said to Pailin, “We don’t have to go on, for you have answered everything correctly, and I can see how much you love your husband and living in the United States,” … yes, my lady was enthusiastic and full of joy with some of her answers … “and I have recommended that you become a United States citizen. You’ll learn the answer soon.”

I took this photo of my happy lady shortly after we returned home from her USCIS appointment on 10mar2020. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

Before the day ended Pailin received notice that her application to become a U.S. citizen had been accepted. The ceremony wherein she would swear an oath to allegiance the U.S was set for March 19. Appropriately just days before she swore her oath of allegiance, the ceremony was postponed due to the novel coronavirus that has been sweeping across the USA (in particular Washington, California, New York, and now also Florida) and the rest of the world. Whenever it is rescheduled you can bet that I’ll be present with a huge smile on my face.

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde or is it …
Dr. Kraft & Mr. Hyde, and a surgery

Some of the classic writers that were prolific in the late nineteenth century or the early twentieth century or both have been some of the writers that I’ve enjoyed over the decades, from Robert Louis Stevenson to H. G. Wells to Edgar Rice Burroughs to Rafael Sabatini.

John Barrymore as Mr. Stevenson’s creations on a video cover (BTW, it’s on Amazon Prime). My mother told me more than once that her father was amazed with the Great Profile’s transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde on the Broadway stage. I have yet to confirm that Barrymore played Jekyll/Hyde on Broadway and think her memory had been off and that her father/my grandfather (who died when I was six) was referring to the 1920 film.

Certainly Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886) is a classic. At times I feel that I would be perfect casting to play both roles, and I could make the transition from Dr. Kraft by not getting a shot and nine days of declining pills; that is four pills twice for three days, three pills twice for three days, and two pills twice for three days. By the evening of the fourth day after the pills had ended I would begin to become Mr. Hyde. The transition would be complete by the morning of the fifth day.

The physician treating me (and he is special) and I realized that the only way for me to again become Dr. Kraft would be to administer a shot and begin another cycle of pills (BTW, these pills would differ over time). 

A little LK background before we talk monsters

Actually this is LK, but it is also the warrior/mystic Apache Geronimo and actor/writer Errol Flynn and the pirate Francis Drake and on and on with me listing everyone I have written about. That is, we are all human beings and we will be judged by our actions, our words, and what other people who know/knew us share. My life is totally different from Flynn, Geronimo, and Drake’s and their lives are totally different from mine. … When anyone writes about us or anyone else the goal should be to find the truth, for that is what defines the person—and not what has most often been printed, “goody-two shoe stories” or “an evil as dark as the devil.”

I’m no saint, and lordy knows I’ve been a hellion for a good part of my life. Does this make me a monster, such as Stevenson’s Mr. Hyde as created by Dr. Jekyll?” No. … For me, mass murderers, rapists, butchers of humankind, and out-and-out racists are or could be monsters depending upon how their actions, views, and words play out.

A long time back after completing roughly 12 days at sea on a Navy nuclear helicopter carrier while living at Hotel del Coronado—the historic beachfront hotel in the city of Coronado, just across San Diego Bay from the California city of San Diego—and better, just steps from the harbor. After location filming concluded I returned to LA. On December 14 of that year this image of me was taken while I was in makeup as Dr. Frankenstein’s monster. Other than dealing with death it was a good time for me. (photo © Louis Kraft 1979)

Slipping back in time I was for a short instant a monster, and so was the lady at my side. This slight detour should really be labeled “beauty and the beast,” for she was (and still is) gorgeous, and well, hell, the image of me in makeup is closer to my view of myself.

Yuck! Just nasty!

After years I’ve learned to live with what I look like, but also over this time I have covered my face with all sorts of mustaches, goatees, and beards—at least then I could envision myself as a pirate or a frontiersman. AND NO, I’m not looking for a comment here. I know, “Kraft, that’s a bad attitude.” What can I say, other than it has been present for decades.

In June 2019 during a trip to Tucson, Arizona, to meet with Stuart Rosebrook, editor of True West, to discuss me writing for the magazine, reality crashed into my world and totally upset the apple cart. No longer would I have to avoid mirrors as I didn’t like my mug, for something, and it is still unknown (although my key physician has worked his way down to a few obscure diseases that aren’t contagious), attacked my face. The dreaded mug that I have cursed until I’ve become blue in the face suddenly shocked me into a new reality. “You think that you’re ugly, cowboy? Well, hold onto your saddle, for you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

As I had announced elsewhere on social media I was considering talking about my health but only if I could play around with Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and somehow deal with my ongoing situation in a humorous way. … I had recently reread Stevenson’s 1886 classic work for the first time in decades and enjoyed it even more this time. Alas, what follows won’t be hilarious.

BTW, for those of you who know Flynn’s 1953 swashbuckler, The Master of Ballantrae, Stevenson wrote the novel that it is loosely—very loosely—based upon. The Richard Thomas (Henry Durie), Michael York (James Durie; the Flynn role) and Timothy Dalton (Col. Francis Burke) TV film (1984) is much darker and much closer to the storyline. … I had worked with Richard on the 1980 TV film, Johnny Belinda (1982) with Dennis Quaid and Rosanna Arquette, which updated the classic Jane Wyman and Lew Ayres 1948 film while making the leading player—Thomas—a member of VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America). I had been a member of VISTA in 1970. When I told him in detail of how clueless the script was on how the volunteers worked with poor people in the continental USA, he said that he couldn’t get it changed. Still, it stated a friendship that lasted until we drifted apart several years later.

Robert Louis Stevenson (perhaps a year or two after he wrote Jekyll/Hyde).

Mr. Hyde is Dr. Jekyll
At the beginning of Stevenson’s story, Mr. Utterson (a lawyer), who is good friend of Dr. Jekyll’s, and who leads us through a good part of the telling of events, had this to say about Mr, Hyde: “He’s is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something down-right detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point.

And later Dr. Lanyon, upon receiving a letter from Dr. Jekyll, thinks his friend is insane, and yet follows his instructions and meets Mr. Hyde. He also described the gentleman: “This person (who had thus, from the first moment of his entrance, struck in me what I can only describe as a disgustful curiosity), was dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary person laughable; his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement—the trousers hanging on his legs and rolled up to to keep them from the ground, the waist of the coat below his haunches and the collar sprawling wide upon his shoulders. Strange to relate, this ludicrous accoutrement was far from moving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me …”

Stevenson wanted to explore the two sides of man, good and evil. I could be talking about the evil in Kraft, but I’m not. I’m more interested in what Dr. Jekyll had stumbled upon with his experimentation.

Of course if you do some digging you might find that once I received a 10×13″ envelope with a 8×10″ envelope inside it. On the outside of the smaller envelope SHAME was printed in bold with a red marker. The envelope was filled with long dark hair. My heart missed a number of beats.

That delivery still makes my shiver.

People have asked about my heart and cracking my skull open more than once. The second time I photographed the scene of the crime after returning from the emergency room. Thirteen hours had passed since the incident and the blood had dried. I turned the result of falling on my noggin’ into art and posted it on social media (see above, © Louis Kraft 2017).

To learn more about cracking my skull, which led to an EEG of my brain, and ultimately me continuing to walk Mother Earth, see: Sand Creek Massacre, Errol & Olivia, Louis Kraft, and a perfect storm.

Most of my past, the really bad past is hilarious when I look back. In a time not too far gone I had been in a long relationship with a possessive lady; not the person above who scared the XXXX out of me. We had gone out to dinner; one we should have passed on. Later that night she was in her panties and washing her face in the sink in preparation to showering. I had just finished my shower and stepped to the sink to turn the water off as it was about to overflow. “That’s it!” she screamed. “I’m out of here!” … Nope, I don’t think I’ll share this here. Looking back I often ask myself do I dare present these events in a memoir? That’s a big question and I still don’t have an answer. This said, Mr. Flynn did his memoir the proper way (with a little help from a friend), and most likely will have the deciding vote. … I just need to make damn sure that I’m dancing with angels before it is published. If not, I’m certain that my rear end will be sued from here to kingdom come.

I’m going to focus on the transformation from doctor to mister and back. Again, I’m interested in the transformation and not the evil that Dr. Jekyll created.

I’m not a physician but my father-in-law, who became our family doctor shortly after we migrated to California in 1953, certainly was. Over my early adult years, many acting publicity photos were shot in his medical suite. The B&W image of me is one of them. I’m sitting in my father-in-law’s chair in his office (September 1979). This photo actually had a silent bit on the short lived TV show Tucker’s Witch (12 episodes, 1982-83) with Tim Matherson, Catherine Hicks, and Alfre Woodard. It was turned into a political campaign poster and gave me a nice payday for simply handing 2nd assistant director Pam Grant an 8×10. She was a dark-haired beauty and a sweetheart; I luckily worked with her on numerous projects.

This photo was taken on 4oct2019, the night after the assault returned with a vengeance. it would be nothing when compared to what was to come. (photo Louis Kraft 2019)

An ongoing problem without end
As the cyclic attacks occurred twice a month after the shot and pills ran their course, my problem shot through the months. Although the pill prescriptions changed slightly whatever invaded my facial skin and turned my back into a bumpy mess of itchiness, it did not affect any other part of my body. When I looked like Mr. Hyde I avoided all contact with the public except my physicians.

I saw my go-to physician who has been doing everything possible from obtaining various blood tests, biopsies (I wanted a “Z” cut on my face so that I could say that I crossed swords with Zorro; my doctor simply smiled and shook his head no), and referred me to other doctors for second opinions and/or to do additional testing.

LK with Dejah Thoris, my doberman pincher, in 1978. She was fully grown in this image, and was the kindest animal I’ve ever known. My sweetheart died in 1992, and I’ve never owned another animal since. (photo Louis kraft 1978)

Over three weeks last fall an allergist stuck 260 needles in my arms twice to see what might be attacking me. … Milk products (duh; this has been ongoing for decades). … Dogs and cats (I haven’t had a dog since 1992, … my beloved Dejah Thoris, whom I named after the princess of Mars in Edgar Rice Burroughs’s series of books on John Carter of Mars). After the second session he told me, “I don’t know what is attacking you, and I can’t help you. Good luck.” … AND goodbye.

The problem raced into December. I kept my doctors smiling, as I had as many appointments as five or six per week. Ditto my pharmacy, where I think that I became their No. 1 client. That was my social life. … No big deal, for I had to complete all my work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway no later that December 31, 2019, for it to see a spring publication.

I viewed this as do or die. It was that important to me.

At the end of December 2019 another physician took the lead. He discovered that I was bleeding internally, had a terribly low red blood count, and was anemic. To combat this he eliminated the shot and the drugs that controlled my mysterious skin disorder, which he wasn’t interested in, and replaced them with an expanding range of prescriptions—some of which affected my system but not totally in a positive way.

On subsequent visits with him he refused to look at my detailed printouts of my current health situation and would not listen to what I knew was now happening to me. This would cost me big time.

Dr. Kraft becomes Mr. Hyde & here we’re only talking about the transformation of the real me to the monster
The new drugs prescribed at the end of December 2019 were too potent and ongoing for way-too-long. Oh, they would slowly raise my red blood count. They also plugged me up; by the end of January 2020 I had a hernia. No matter what I said about the growing pain, the physician ignored it for I was now set for the first of two procedures that hopefully discover where the internal bleeding was located.

The drugs also did something else. … and somehow prevented the burning attacks upon my face from returning until the beginning of February. When they returned it was like nothing before, for the transformation was horrifying.

This is one of a series of photos that Pailin took on the evening of 3feb2020. It does not do justice to what I then looked like. Here you can see the bulging red puffs under my eyes, the frightening physical change to the structure of my face, and the arrival of wrinkles that are here to stay. I had become Stevenson’s Mr. Hyde. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

The disease had returned with a vengeance, turning my face into a burning infernal. Like the flames that have destroyed a good of California the past three years, my skin  burned around the clock. When the skin began to peel, the burning continued, creating new layers of peeling skin below the top layers (trust me, this would be difficult to recreate with makeup).

When Pailin returned home at 9:30 on February 3 I was waiting for her with my cell phone in hand. She cringed when she saw my skin for it was much worse than when she had left for work. I got in her face and asked her to snap a few photos. My next appointment with the physician now in charge was set for the seventh and I wanted proof of what was happening.

I can’t begin to tell you what this does to one’s hope for the future, and especially so since it had been ongoing since June 2019. But now, … NOW I had proof to show the physician currently in charge of my health, even if what had happened disappeared before my appointment.

Sometimes my faith in the medical profession is pushed to the limit. … Changes are a comin’.

I need not have worried, for my new look was going nowhere. Kraft had become Hyde and needed another medical concoction to reverse what I now had become. My  subsequent medical appointment on the seventh was ludicrous. The first procedure, which this doctor had not ordered, proved negative and did not identify the location of my internal bleeding. Still his only interest was the second procedure (which he also did not order). … Not that I was stuffed up, had a blossoming inguinal hernia that now burned, and had my skin problem staring him the face. … “You don’t look so hot,” he finally managed to say. “I don’t feel so hot,” I sarcastically mimicked. He wouldn’t even refer surgeon for the hernia. The appointment had ended, for there was nothing more to say.

I ran to the office of my doctor that I trusted and walked in unannounced. He saw me immediately, gave me a shot and an old prescription. But this was just a stop gap; I would see him on the thirteenth to discus my future.

Another of the photos that Pailin had taken on 3feb2020, but this one is better for it shows that I’m a benevolent monster. This said, I wasn’t much in the mood for socializing (the U.S. government had downplayed the coronavirus to the point that I didn’t know anyone who felt at risk at that time). (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

Throughout all this I remained Mr. Hyde
I obtained a reference for the hernia surgery, didn’t bother to tell my physician, and met the surgeon. The surgery was set for March 13. Would I make it to that date?

The second procedure was scheduled for February 27, but the hernia pain now grew by the hour. I couldn’t sit for more than five minutes, and standing was almost as bad. I frantically searched for answers without success.

Then, quite by accident, I discovered that if I lay on my back with my legs stretched in front of me the pain went away.

By this time the burning pain reached the point wherein I could no longer sit on a chair. I had to work on my iMac standing—and then no longer than five minutes (but even then I was at risk of not getting back to bed, my only sanctuary).

LK’s special doctor and a bed
On the thirteenth I met with the physician who had stuck with me throughout my skin ordeal, and who I have nothing but praise for as he has listened to me as he fought to figure out what is going on. We had already discussed perhaps me moving the UCLA Medical Center to continue the testing. On this day he talked about obscure diseases that were hit or miss at best. I had another shot  but there would be no pills. He moved me to a non-steroidal cream. As he said, “It was a shot in the dark.” I couldn’t lose.

I took this image of my new office on 29feb2020. The room also serves as a work space for my delivery to the Chávez History Library later this year, as does the living room and my real office. A huge project that the hernia has put on hold. Oh, that’s a cavalry saber on the wall; you don’t duel with cavalry sabers because it is impossible to do so. (photo © Louis Kraft 2020)

The bed became so important that as soon as there was a hint of trouble I used a cane to wobble to it, for no matter painful the hernia became once I was flat on my back the pain would slowly subside. … But until that time (15 minutes? 20 minutes?), I couldn’t touch the area or push the hernia back into my body.

About two weeks before the hernia surgery I stupidly sat at the iMac as the work was so detailed I couldn’t do it standing. Like an idiot I ignored the pain as I frantically tried to finish the task. … As soon as I stood the pain blew out of control and I struggled to inch my way to the bed. I made it to the room and moved past a wooden cabinet (to the left of the above photo). That was it. I could no longer place my right foot on the floor and the cane couldn’t support my awkward balance with all my weight on it. I couldn’t reach back and grab the cabinet and I still had two large steps to get to the bed. It was daytime. I was alone, although the cell phone was in my pocket. I couldn’t move back or forward, and this left me one choice—dive for the bed. I’ve always been a good athlete, but not worth much at the moment. There was one catch; I had to land on my back. “No guts, no glory.” I dove for the bed, flipping as soon as I was in the air. I landed on my back on the bed, but not all of me. My knees were at the edge of the bed and my calves hung to the floor. The pain increased tenfold. Using my hands I slowly pulled myself onto the bed. Over a half hour passed before the pain subsided.

I needed an “after” photo for this blog to show that I no longer look like the “Kraft-Hyde” that I hope never to see again. Today (5apr2020) we enjoyed ourselves in the front yard of Tujunga House while she shot a few images. (photo © Louis Kraft and Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2020)

I shared my heroic performance with my bro, Glen Williams, and he asked if Pailin had been home to film it. I told him that she hadn’t been home, and he said, “Too bad, for it could have gone viral on YouTube.” That was a first class idea. That night when she returned home I told what had happened and of Glen’s suggestion to film it for YouTube. “No,” she replied. “I think it’s a great idea and I want to reenact it tomorrow.” “No.” “I think that it would be a fun thing to do.” “NO!” … I’m not always the boss.

The second procedure found no internal bleeding. The pre-opt for the surgery showed that my red blood count was up to 13. Yes! The inguinal hernia surgery was successful, but was not robotic as anticipated. Scar tissue from a surgery in 2003 prevented this, and it became an old fashioned cut and slice performance. Unfortunately I wasn’t awake, for I would have requested a “Z” (I really don’t have a Zorro complex). Alas, I have pain, but then I won’t be fully recovered until mid-June (meaning no exercise, no yardwork, no heavy lifting, no bending … no bending? Give me a break!).

Best of all: to date the cream has worked wonders on my face. I’m certain that my physician will be as pleased as I am when I see him on April 6.


As the great New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra used to say, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” My heart surgeon, a technician from Boston Scientific (the company that manufactured my pacemaker and the device that sits next to my desk and monitors my heart 24/7), were in the room where I awoke from the hernia surgery testing my pacemaker.*

* This is a story I’ll save for the future.

I would  be remiss if I didn’t end this blog with Val Kilmer’s great quote from Tombstone (1993) when he played Doc Holliday, a thin, consumptive, alcoholic who played a large role in the 1881 shootout at the OK Corral and the vendetta waged by Wyatt Earp afterwards.

A card of Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday that artist-actor Buck Taylor, who played Jack Johnson in Tombstone, sent me years back. (art © Buck Taylor)

Shortly after Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) and Doc have arrived in Tombstone and Wyatt has set himself up as a faro dealer, Curly Bill Brocius (Powers Boothe) and Ike Clanton (Stephen Lang) confront him at a gaming table, pushing for a confrontation.

Johnny Ringo (Michael Biehn) steps up to Doc, who is drunk, shortly after Earp has said that he’s retired: “And you must be Doc Holliday.”

 Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer): “That’s the rumor.”

Johnny Ringo: “You retired too?”

Doc Holliday” “Not me. I’m in my prime.”

 

And so am I.

Through all this Pailin has been my nurse, my private driver, and an angel.
What more could I want?

Errol Flynn, Kit Carson, & a dark Louis Kraft future

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


My past is my future, and my future is mine.
It has arrived and it is time to share.

Music plays a big part in my life …

“From the Indian reservation to the governmental school … and
there are drums beyond the mountain … Indian drums that you can hear.
There are drums beyond the mountain … and they’re getting mighty near. Lone
Pine and Sequoria, Handsome Lake and Sitting Bull, … Crazy Horse the
legend, those who bit off Custer’s soul, … they are dead
but they are living with the great Geronimo. …”

Johnny Cash’s “Bitter Tears,” is one of the best albums ever produced. Except for the song, “Custer,” which is pure fiction and much-much worse, Johnny’s entire album, other than “Custer,” is brilliant.

“Drums” by P. La Farge and performed by Johnny Cash is dated (I originally enjoyed this song on his great album, “Bitter Tears,” which is totally from the American Indian POV on 33 1/3 RPM but only have it now on CD w/o a copyright date). I like Johnny’s music but I’m not his best fan. This said, his “Bitter Tears” album is extraordinary, and is easily near the top of my favorite 10 albums of all time (challenging John Lennon, Michael Parks, Alan Jackson, Patsy Cline, Norah Jones, Laura Branigan, and John Anderson for the leading spots).

If ever I sang in public—God forbid!—this is the song that would lead off my music set. A forthcoming blog will again deal with “the song remembers when,” and you can bet that Cash’s “Bitter Tears” album, along with more on Johnny’s legacy, will be featured in my second blog that focuses on music.

This is me, music, my daily working life, and yes, music plays a big role in my daily life.

The LK writing future begins today

As of today my entire writing future is no longer as it once was. I love my past writing life, but now I’m walking into what will eventually become my second writing past. I know, this sentence tells you nothing. Well hell; I mean good, for we’re making progress here.

You may think that you know me, but you don’t. I share a lot, and perhaps more than most people that you know, but you don’t know me. No one knows me completely, for I’m a very private person. This is totally based upon my past, for it has been one long string of tragedy, failures, and dreams that never happen. It’s my life, and I love it for without it I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be the LK living in at the end of 2019 with all my special memories and special people. Here I’m talking about my huge network of writer-historian-artistic friends as well as all the people I cherish worldwide, for without any of you I would have no life and no future.

The only way you will ever know me is if I dare to complete that memoir that I’ve talked about off and on over the years. If I dare to complete this project, I will approach it as I do with all of my nonfiction work—attempt to tell the truth wherever that documentation trail leads. I think that Errol Flynn did a magnificent job—with help—of telling the truth in My Wicked, Wicked Ways (Putnum,1959). Perhaps so, but if he had lived to see his book’s publication he would have had his ass sued from here to kingdom come.

Lesson leaned: if you write a truthful memoir, make sure you are dead before it is published. For the record I have spent a good part of my Indian wars nonfiction life writing about two gentlemen who harbored the typical prejudices of life on the frontier (1860s & 1880s), but were able to realize that Cheyennes and Arapahos (1860s) and Apaches (1880s) were human beings. This, ladies and gentlemen, was, and is, a two-way street.

At right is my first portrait of Ned Wynkoop. I based it on the woodcut that appeared in the May 11, 1867, issue of Harper’s Weekly, which has been in my private collection for decades. It was originally published in Custer and the Cheyenne: George Armstrong Custer’s Military Campaign on the Southern Plains (Upton and Sons, Publishers, 1995). (art © Louis Kraft 1990)

I created this portrait of Gatewood specifically for Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005). (art © Louis Kraft 2004). It has since been printed in a magazine and as a post card.

I can’t begin to tell you how many Cheyennes, Arapahos, Apaches, and other American Indians did to accept the invading white man and co-exist peacefully with him. These two white men were Wynkoop and Charles B. Gatewood. Both attempted to write memoirs of their time with the Cheyenne and Arapahos (Wynkoop) and the Apaches (Gatewood). Neither completed a rough draft, and yet they—along with many others on the frontier whose memory changed with time (and remember that they didn’t have all the documentation that I have at my fingertips) have been attacked, for their views don’t coincide with modern-day historians whose tunnel vision is so extreme that they refuse to adjust their preconceived visions of their premises. … Memories change over time. Theirs did, mine does, and so it is with you.

All my work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is finished!

… And this is good.

This is a major statement, for this project has been a massive undertaking.

LK and OU Press editor-in-chief Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association convention in Newport Beach, California, on 17oct2014. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2014)

Honestly, I can’t begin to tell how much I have cursed former University of Oklahoma Press editor-in-chief Chuck Rankin over the years, for not walking away when I told him I didn’t want to write a book about the Cheyennes and Arapahos and the heinous attack on their Colorado Territory village on November 29, 1864—an attack that should have never happened for representatives of the U.S. military had guaranteed their safety if they camped there. This said, Chuck is a marvelous person, one I call friend, and since the beginning of this century he has been the key player behind my last three nonfiction Indian wars books. This is no small statement, and I can only wonder where my writing trail would have led if not for him.

Chuck led the way, and opened the door to my relationship with the University of Oklahoma Press; making me one lucky writer, for OU Press is the best publisher of Indian and Indian wars books in the world. Here I really need to talk about my ongoing association with the entire editorial, marketing, and production staff, as well as their copyeditors (which are outsourced). I had requested photos from current editor-in-chief Adam Kane and managing editor Steven Baker (who I have enjoyed working with since Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek), but they’re shy. So was Chuck, but he didn’t learn to duck when I or Pailin pointed a camera or phone at him.

I have completed all of my work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway, and Steven Baker is the key reason why. I can’t begin to tell you how patient, understanding, and hard working he is. Steven has had my back during the entire production process (photos and art, three maps, two copyedits, two book proofs, the detailed index, and the dust jacket), and he has done everything to make the book as good as possible. The publication date is March 12, 2020; its preorder listing is on Amazon (and elsewhere), and it includes the dust jacket blurb that is right on target for what the book is about (to see it, click: Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway on Amazon).

OUCH!!!!

The above sounds like it was a slam dunk. Not even close, for I can’t remember the last day I had off until this Christmas, which I did take off—and it was special.

But, this book was special too …
At the beginning of the project I constantly struggled with my decision to sign the contract. And even more so as the days, weeks, months, and years flashed by with no end in sight. Eventually I grew into the project, accepted it, and looked forward to what the next day would bring. I needed to walk with as many of the participants in the lead up to the murder of people at Sand Creek in Colorado Territory in 1864 as possible. More important, I had to separate myself and attempt to view their words and actions in their point of view. I also had to place myself within the village on that fatal day. I had to see the scramble to survive, the sexual butchery, and more—the aftermath that led to end of the Cheyenne and Arapahos’s freedom, religion, language, and lifeway. Little more than prisoners of war they would do what the white man dictated, or face the consequences.

All my books live on in my life, but Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway has become the centerpiece of my writing life. If I became homeless and could only have one piece from my writing life with me, it would be this book.

My work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is over

But it isn’t, for I never stop learning and there’s always add on work (alas, there is another piece of my life that will impact my future).

Some of what is coming:

  • An ongoing relationship with Editor Stuart Rosebrook and True West magazine in 2020 and beyond. It will include articles related to the Sand Creek story, as well as articles dealing with my writing past and hopefully future.
    • This began in earnest this December when I delivered the first article on Cheyenne chief Black Kettle.
  • Upcoming talks with Gordon Yellowman, and LK solo.
    • At the moment, Gordon and I have a confirmed talk at the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site in Cheyenne, Oklahoma, on December 8, 2020. I will talk about Cheyenne chief Black Kettle. I’ll also talk about the attack on the Sand Creek village while the Called Out People flee for their lives at the University of New Mexico in October.
  • A massive delivery to the Louis Kraft Collection at the Chávez History Library, Museum of New Mexico, Santa Fe. It is mandatory for I cite it often in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. A lot of work has already been put into preparing for this delivery, but I’m not close to selecting everything that will be making the trip.

LK standing in front of the exterior entry to the Chávez History Library on July 4, 2006. (photo Louis Kraft © 2006)

    • It will include my writing, research, correspondence, photos, and art from my writing since the last delivery, plus information from my past that I had not yet provided.
    • It will also include writing from my past that I completed but never sold such as proposals and manuscripts, as well as artifacts that I own, but now believe belong in a museum for everyone to view and experience (and not be kept in a private collection).
      • We’re talking about American Indian, Indian wars, and the Golden Age of the Cinema artifacts.
    • Finally, I may include research, correspondence, and drafts from projects that I haven’t completed, and perhaps now never will.

Let’s take another music break

There’s a lot of music in my life. Much of it’s world music from the Andes to Spain, Cuba, Mexico, China, Thailand, and beyond—and this includes the massive amount wonderful American Indian instrumentals and vocals. Of course there’s soundtracks, some classical, and you can bet your bottom dollar on rock ‘n roll and country and a little bit of blues.

Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)                           

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotten,
The oranges are packed in the creosote dumps.
They’re flyin’ them back to the Mexican border,
To save all their money then wade back again.
My father’s own father, he waded that river:
Others before him had done just the same.
They died in the hills and they died in the valleys;
Some went to heaven without any name.

This great album also featured a song that I played at my brother’s funeral in March 1990 (“Highwayman”). Lee was a rebel, and so have been these four singers. All five have influenced my life more that I could ever share.

Four singers have stood out: Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and Kris Kristofferson. Instead of beginning as a member of a band (such as John Lennon with the Beatles), they formed a band long after they attained solo success as The Highwaymen. I luckily saw Waylon perform live at the famed Palomino Club in North Hollywood when he was young, and Willie when he was old, but not ancient, at the Hollywood Bowl. Alas, I never saw Johnny or Kris perform, and worse never saw The Highwaymen live.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita;
Adios mi amigos; Jesus y Maria.
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you, will be: “Deportee.”

Some of us are illegal and others not wanted;
Our work contract’s out and we have to move on.
Six hundred miles to the Mexican border.
They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves.

Obviously “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)” is one of my favorite songs. Many artists have sung it, but my favorite version is by The Highwaymen with Johnny taking the lead.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita;
Adios mi amigos; Jesus y Maria.
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you, will be: “Deportee.”

Woody Guthrie wrote the song in response to a plane crash in California on January 28, 1948 (music by Martin Hoffman), in which racist newspaper and radio reporting of the tragic event refused to name the deceased and grouped all of them as “deportees.”

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon;
A fireball of thunder, it shook all the hills.
Who are all of these dear friends, scattered like dry leaves?
The radio said they were just “Deportees.”

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita;
Adios mi amigos; Jesus y Maria.
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you, will be: “Deportee.”

This is one of the saddest songs I have ever listened to, and it affects me every time I hear it, for it reminds me of how callus, inhuman, racist, and hateful our homeland has become since that dark flash of time in 1948 that is now long gone.

Woody Guthrie (right) was a singer-songwriter before his time. He documented what he saw and what disturbed him. This is something that all of us should do—document our world, current and past. … I try to do this. 

One other small impact to what’s coming

Something is going down in my life, and I don’t know what it is. Actually, no one does. What follows is optimistic. Heck, I’m always optimistic. I had been enjoying myself by stating that I needed to live to 130 to complete all of my projects, and that was probably a true statement. But times have changed, and that has led to a revised and much-shortened blog. There are two books that I have a realistic chance of completing first or polished drafts of in 2020. There are two follow-up manuscripts to these books that require more research, and that will begin in 2020. … My future is out there, and it will impact what I just stated.

Errol Flynn is the perfect lead-in to my writing future

Why? The answer is simple: he is the leading player in my writing future. This said, I don’t want to mislead you for as in the past I mix and match all my work. Flynn and Olivia de Havilland have had a presence in my talks and published work since the mid-1990s. It hasn’t been large, but it exists. Come 2020, everything changes in my priorities. This doesn’t mean that I’m turning my back on the Sand Creek saga, or the major players (such as Black Kettle, Little Raven, Ned Wynkoop, and so on) for I’m not. It also doesn’t mean that I’m walking away from the Indian wars, for I’m not.

Why Mr. Flynn?

For the record, two of EF’s films influenced my entire writing future, but I was clueless when a teenager. What can I say? Life if great! (LK art of EF as George Armstrong Custer in They Died with their Boos On (1941),  © Louis Kraft 2009)

Simply put, I had set out to write a trilogy about his life. This grew to four with two partnered and the elimination of my third proposed solo manuscript. The year 2019 has been unlike any I’ve experienced in the past. Something happened, and it is impacting my life.

My brain functions; it keeps me alive, and I love it. I’m one lucky cowboy.

But you know me—I need to get personal before the main event

Let’s begin with that there is a lot going on in my life that you aren’t privy to. Most likely you’ll never be privy due to my being obscure (and this is an understatement). Bottom line, I’m a tease. It’s fun in the here and now, but a drag when long distance (and again, an understatement). It’s just me; sorry.

Times are tough, but it’s a lot more. This needs to be broken into subheadings (but they don’t deal with the understatements), for all of them are major to me. Let’s start with the land I love.

SoCal and Los Angeles

Ladies and gents I could write a book about my homeland. It would be nonfiction, and I would both praise and damn it. I’m going to start with a few positives that are out of this world:

  • Los Angeles is the melting pot of the USA
    • More people of different race and more languages are spoken in Los Angeles than any other city in the USA
  • The culture at my fingertips is astronomical
  • The diversity of restaurants are beyond belief (ditto the grocery stores)
  • Our weather is to dream for temperature wise
  • There are major archives that host subjects that have been and are key to my writing past and future

This image of Los Angeles and the San Gabriel Mountains was taken by Luis Sinco on 26dec2019 and printed in the Los Angeles Times on 27dec2019. (© Los Angeles Times 2019)

That’s right, I live in a writer’s wonderland (some might say, “a winter wonderland”). Go ahead and chuckle, but you can’t deny that this is why some of you rip LA time and again—jealousy.

The bad—that is, the very bad

Let’s begin this with I was accused of being a traitor for considering leaving the USA a year or two back. It ended a friendship. I’m good with this. Nothing more need be said, other than my exploration for where I and my loved ones could perhaps continue to live without joining the living dead that walk the streets of LA is constantly with me.

Know that I will never become a homeless person.

I’m not just talking about LA and SoCal but all of California. We now have four designations of people:

  • The rich class
  • The middle class, many of whom are now approaching the lower class
  • The lower class, many of whom are now approaching the homeless class
  • The homeless class
    I’m not going to say much about the homeless class, other than some (many more than “some”) have jobs, but they can no longer afford to own a home or to rent lodging.

LA Times columnist Steve Lopez keeps me updated

Steve (the dot and line image of him–left–reminds me of the woodcuts that I own and use from the 19th century in my writing, and I think that it’s terrific, and The Times prints it with all of his articles). He is one of numerous great columnists that the The Times employs, and let me tell you that they are worth the cost of the paper (Front page; plus California, Business, and Calendar sections), and without knowing, all of them must have staffs that supply much needed information (I need to feature them in future blogs, for their work is exceptional). This said, Steve walks the streets of Los Angeles, and he knows many of the people he writes about personally. He is a gentleman that I would like to know and hang out with. (art of Lopez © Los Angeles Times)

On 15dec2019 Steve continued his ongoing expose on the homeless situation in Los Angeles. It is both outrageous and heartbreaking. Some of Steve’s words and facts are all that need be said (they are from his front page column).

Steve began his December 15 column with: “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t seen the body up close, or the small pool of blood that dribbled out of the man’s mouth and onto a West Los Angeles sidewalk. I also wish I hadn’t seen the dead man’s open, empty eyes when he was turned over for examination by the coroner investigator.”

He was talking about a 61-year old man he knew, a married man, and father of five, who had some mental problems. This man, who shouldn’t be dismissed as little more than nobodies as the “deportees” were in Woody Guthrie’s magnificent song (above), lived. He walked the streets of LA, he was a human being, and he should not have had his end happen this way.

Several years back the residents of Los Angeles voted to increase taxes to aid and home the homeless. Not much has happened, but as Steve shockingly reports: Alvin Robinson was the 680th homeless death on the streets of LA this year (two more would die on the day of his death). As of his column of the fifteenth, 962 homeless people have died in Los Angeles County. Going back to 2013, the death count is over 5,620. These statistics are not acceptable. Los Angeles city and county needs to do something, or this epidemic is going to explode into a living nightmare of hell.

The good—that is, the very good (I’m being snarky)

It seems like the rest of the USA bitches that SoCal has no seasons. We have seasons, but they aren’t as traumatic as a good portion of the rest of our homeland. We don’t have snow and freezing temperatures six months out of the year. Let me tell you how much I hear friends—good friends—who complain about a snowstorm in April but who hate SoCal for our weather. The weather varies depending upon where we live, and now scientists in a recent report have guaranteed what all of us have experienced during the last three or four years is here to stay. That is raging firestorms, drought, freezing and snowbound winters, tornados, and hurricanes—all of which are pounding the hell out of Mother Earth.

House insurance is tripling in Los Angeles County in 2020;
making me one step closer to being a traitor to my country.
That’s right, I’m never going to get over that F—ing accusation.

I guess the above isn’t very good, but since all of us want a future I can say only one thing: If this is our future it is all we have (unless we change it). I wish it wasn’t so, but at the same time I’m thrilled to be alive. For me, this is “very good.”

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the dark side

The 2019 fire season was again hell in SoCal.

This photo appeared in the Los Angeles Times on 29oct2019. The image was captured on the 28th; that was the day that Pailin couldn’t get out of the San Fernando Valley (see the text directly below this photo). I don’t know if you know, but the City of Los Angeles and the County of Los Angeles are a series of mountain ranges and valleys. The SFV has been threatened from the north, east, south, and west for the last three years. I don’t need to repeat what might happen if these fires aren’t stopped. In 2018 over 1100 LA County firefighters earned $100,000 in overtime; the number of firefighters with this amount of overtime pay is going to increase in 2019. The threat is no joke, and it makes the infamous California earthquakes second-class citizens. (photo © Los Angeles Times 2019)

The recent rain storms perhaps saved Santa Barbara, and certainly one of the famed Spanish missions that range across the state. The Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, west of the San Fernando Valley, where I live, suffered $550 million in damage this summer but the buildings luckily survived. As always the SFV was attacked from various directions and twice fires blazed within five miles of my house (the northern side of the valley and Warner Bros. on the south side) and on another occasion within six miles.

This last was the (you choose the name) the Sepulveda Pass or the 405 freeway or the Getty Museum fire. The 405 separates the SFV from the Westside of Los Angeles (Westwood, UCLA, Brentwood, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, Venice).

I took this image (right) of my beautiful wife on 11Dec2019 when we drank cups of good coffee at the Mercedes-Benz of Encino dealership. This is a first-class establishment, and we enjoy our time there. (photo by LK and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2019)

Pailin is a contractor and all of her work is on the Westside. On 28oct2019, when the blaze began (and all the southbound lanes in the Sepulveda Pass and the 405 freeway shut down), she spent over three and a half hours trying to get out of the valley and failed. If a major fire invades the SFV (and the threat has been constant the last three years), which has 1.7+ million residents, let me tell you hundreds of thousands of people will not escape the inferno.

The Books

Errol & Olivia

This book has been in the works for a long time. All I can say here is, bless all of my Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland fans for your patience. More important, your time has arrived, and that is that E&O will be my next published nonfiction book.* However you feel about this, it is at least a thousand times more important to me.

* I currently have 60,000+ words (some polished) and plan on a total of 125,000 words.

There’s still more writing, more polishing, and more research (research never ends). Hopefully when the book is published you will like it. I can promise you one thing, and that is that this book will not be like any book you have ever read about Errol Flynn or Olivia de Havilland in the past.

Although I have shared this, the book will deal with their life and times during the eight films they made together at Warner Bros. between 1935 and 1941. I prefer to use art of them on the book cover, but if I can’t obtain the rights to use a painting or illustration that includes both of them that is appropriate for the dust jacket, I will use a photo (this will be easy to do, for I already know which series of images I’m going to pull from, but if this is the case I won’t share it until the cover design is final). One thing is certain, one of these photos from this portion of their time together will be in the book, for there are numerous images that are magnificent.

As with all my Indian wars nonfiction, this book will contain notes that point the reader to the location of the primary source research. There is a reason for this, and it is twofold. It allows anyone—a writer-historian or anyone else who has an interest in EF & OdeH—to view the material. This information should not be secretive, nor should it be hidden from the public.


On the dark side, way too often “would-be” historians create
their own facts and quotations while citing obscure historic documentation
that they think will not be viewed for no one has it or can obtain it. Vagueness
is not golden. You do not want to know my view of these slimeballs.


What has been printed is way too often in error

Hey folks, there are a lot of errors in print. Some are by writers who believed what they found in primary documentation or from books whose authors they trusted. I certainly am one of these writers. In the past I used quotes that were cited from documents in the National Archives (the cited material and how it was listed was pristine, but I didn’t have the original material to check and trusted the author (whose book I still have and like a lot). I’m a little ahead of myself here, but this is okay.

This image probably is confusing, and certainly for being placed here. Those of you who know me well, know that I have a very deep connection with film. These films feature Rod Taylor as the pirate Francis Drake and Jon Hall as the frontiersman Kit Carson. Both films are slightly above being B-films, but both, for the most part, represent the sole representation of these key players in British and American history on film. Both, if produced by a major American film studio could have been much better. They weren’t; my loss (and perhaps yours also). More below but only on one of these gentlemen.

In the mid-1990s I had written a Kit Carson article for either Arizona Highways or Persimmon Hill. The publication used peer reviewers who were subject-matter experts (this is how it should always be), and my article was rejected as the historical quotes were incorrect. I compared the quotes I submitted in the article with the quoted material from the book (mentioned above) and the words I submitted were spot-on. I had not erred, but I now knew that the author of the book or one of his editors blind edited the quotations (and left the reader in the dark). This was a lesson I never forgot. If I change text—let’s say from a lower case letter to upper case or rewrite a word or two—they are always in brackets. Copyeditors often silently delete my brackets. They don’t realize that during copyedits I read each and every word and check everything against what I submitted. When required I re-add the brackets, and in each instance tell them exactly why I did, and that they are not going to delete the brackets.

In the past I have missed some blind edits and when I see them (often years later)
I scream at the heavens (and my language isn’t printable here).

Charles Higham made a lot of money by creatively creating false facts about major film stars. When I questioned Olivia de Havilland about what he wrote about her and sister Joan Fontaine, all she shared was “he is an unscrupulous man.” I have this quote in a letter from her, and it will be delivered to the LK Collection in Santa Fe in the near future.

There are other errors that often see print. Often they are created by lazy writers who do little research, but others are created by wannabe historians to sell books. Their false facts are heinous, and I’m being kind here. Unfortunately, there are way too many of these cretins that create fiction—that is facts and quotes—while falsifying obscure sources. I chuckle over this, for often I have their “obscure sources” in-house and you can take it to the bank that I check each and every note in their travesties that cites documentation that I have.

I’m certain that their point-of-view is that you can’t be arrested and put on trial for defaming the dead in the USA, which is true. Let’s look at this another way: these wannabe’s think that defaming the dead is their key to mega bucks. Snarky Kraft has a dark view of writers who defame the dead while creating false histories that are based upon their fallacious—that is their intended and deceptive—lies.

Worse, some of these deceptions are being reproduced in articles, books, and online. Hell, if it has been printed, it must be true. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I have been pinged for pointing out egregious errors in my Indian wars writing, and if it happens again—so be it.

How can errors be corrected if they are ignored?

How I approach documenting facts

Simple: by dealing with them when I am aware of them. Alas, often changes happen after I have seen whatever version of the edits that I will see. When this happens … Well, hell, you do not want to hear my view, for it isn’t printable. Unfortunately, my vocabulary is at times X-rated (those of you who know me, mostly consider me a kind-hearted soul who wouldn’t hurt an insect). The truth be known, ask my first wife, my daughter, Diane Moon, Pailin, or others who know me intimately, and they’ll tell you that when upset LK is someone to avoid.

This LK art is based upon an early 1970s photo negative that was degraded to the point that it could never be restored. The photo was taken in my parent’s house and I didn’t want to lose it. I created the art  based upon the negative in the 2013 timeframe, and although it doesn’t date to the last half of first decade of this century it presents a good look at my former attitude—that is: shoot first and ask questions later. (art ©  Louis Kraft 2013)

This is not me being kind to me, for way too often in the past I found it difficult to control my outrage.

Here’s an example, but years have passed and I have mellowed with time. I needed to buy a new landline phone because mine had broken. “How?” the sales person wanted to know. “It just broke,” I replied. My then long-time lady friend Diane Moon was with me, and she spoke up. “He threw the phone at the wall and destroyed it.”

As I just said, I have mellowed with time.
It’s long over a decade since I’ve killed a phone.

If I ever complete that memoir, and it is printed, I hope that you won’t faint. Sorry, but that’s just part of life. The truth is always much better than fiction when writing about people’s lives and the events in them. As a nonfiction writer, I have a responsibility to tell the truth as I have discovered it.


Errol & Olivia will go in directions you may not expect,
but will add to their working time together, and will hopefully present
more insight into their professional and personal lives.

Book covers are of major importance …

… and I have played a major role in every one of mine since Upton and Sons published Custer and the Cheyenne in 1995. It’s a non-brainer, for a good cover can increase book sales.

This art appeared on DVDs and other media (I have a poster of it) and I like it or it wouldn’t appear here. Still, it is not close the 1976 United Artists Classic poster for the revival showing of their classic film in Los Angeles that year, which has better art, mimics the 1938 original poster while also being superior to the initial release art. Regardless of my view of The Adventures of Robin Hood, it is their iconic film for all time. Alas, it wasn’t close to their best film (or films) together. Still, it is must viewing for anyone who has an interest in Flynn or de Havilland’s film careers. (LK collection)

I want art of Mr. Flynn and Miss de Havilland on the cover of Errol & Olivia. To date I only have a cover from a long-dead magazine that I like. This said, there is a lot of great illustration art on film posters from days long gone. American, French, Spanish, German (some of the German art of the late 1940s is to die for), … This is perhaps a good way to go, but it will include two must-needed things (other than negotiating with the copyright owner, and that is: 1) Can the poster art be altered, and 2) What is the use fee?

Let’s discuss the poster art at the right. To make it work as a dust jacket cover is simple: 1) Remove the cover text within the shield and replace it with the book title and author credit, and 2) Remove the acting credits at the bottom right of the poster (Errol and Olivia’s credits must remain at the upper left—to balance the image while informing potential readers what the book is about).

Decisions, decisions, decisions.
I have time, but not much for I’m going to fly
through the completion of the first draft of Errol & Olivia.

But what if I can’t obtain the rights to use a painting or illustration that includes both of Errol and Olivia that is appropriate for a dust jacket? No problem, for I will use a photo from a very key point in their time together. The photos from this time are absolutely magnificent. But if it comes to this, I won’t share the image until the cover design is final. One thing is certain, one of these photos from this portion of their time together will be in the book, for there are numerous images that are superb, and need to be shared.

A first draft of Errol & Olivia in 2020

Oh yeah, this is going to happen. More important, ladies and gents, this isn’t a wild LK dream. I will have a first draft of the manuscript by the end of 2020, and this includes my upcoming talks, book signings, writing for True West magazine, and an updated draft of a novel. Working seven days a week has been my past and it is my future. I love it, and it includes stolen time with Pailin and my family. Although trips are work, they are also R&R, and they give me additional time with Pailin and my daughter—they are special time for me, and I love it.

But this isn’t the end of Mr. Flynn

During the year 2020 I will officially begin my research on a second nonfiction book on him. Some of it is already in house, but there is much to do. I’m certain that I’ve discussed the project in the past. If so, shame on me, for it should be a surprise. As with all my biographical efforts I prefer to focus on a piece of time, and again this will be the case. For those of you who have interest in this man, who was not only a good actor and writer, but perhaps the most un-racial person I’ve ever studied and written about.

Let me tell you that there is no better place to do this research than in Los Angeles. In case you don’t know it, LA is a goldmine.

Another piece to LK’s writing future is also in the here and now

Originally it was a genre novel that dealt with race relations during the 1863-1864 Navajo campaign. As always in my fiction, the story was character-driven and dealt with the human element.

I can’t remember who took this image but he kindly sent me a low resolution of it. The photo was taken at the Little Big Horn Associates convention in Oklahoma City on 18jun2011, when Custer and the Cheyenne received the Jay D. Smith award for its contribution to Custeriana. A good night for LK.

It had been contracted in the early 1990s, but then the contract was broken. If this hadn’t had happened I would have never become a writer of nonfiction Indian wars books.

Never.

This is/was probably the luckiest unplanned change in my writing life, and I am forever grateful to Dick Upton of Upton and Sons, Publishers, for he had been pitching me to write a nonfiction book on George Armstrong Custer. I had been turning him down, but after the novel when belly up I called Dick. Probably one of the most important phone calls I ever made. I only have a few words to say about this—Bless you Dick, and your wonderful wife Frankie, for without you I would not have enjoyed the last 26 years of my writing life. Click the link to see my thoughts on Dick and Frankie when Custer and the Cheyenne won the Jay D. Smith award in 2011.

Navajo Blood

I’ve always liked my title for the contracted novel mentioned above. After the polished draft was accepted, the publisher (which was unfortunately nearing the end of life), dropped their western line. This story, which I’ve always liked, was exiled to a filing cabinet until this year. Like The Final Showdown (Walker and Company, 1992), it deals with real historical events and people who lived through them, and again has major fictional characters.

Kit Carson meeting with General James Carleton (left). For my purposes it is before the 1863-64 Navajo campaign and Carson is just receiving his orders. This was a task he didn’t want, and he has been damned for it, but by people who don’t know who he was or what he attempted to do to end a war he wanted no part of. For all the racist crap about Carson, consider this: he spoke seven languages and had three wives (Arapaho, Cheyenne, and Spanish). A racist? I don’t think so. This image is a detail from a painting on display at the Bosque Redondo Memorial (Fort Summer, N.Mex.). If you have never been there, I highly recommend it.

Mixing and matching of real and fictional players is something I like doing. In this case we’re talking about Kit Carson, his wife Josefa, and their children, as well as General James Carleton, and officers under Carson’s command during the 1863-1864 Navajo campaign, and major Navajo chiefs Manuelito and Barboncito. There are three leading players in the story: an aging fictional Navajo warrior (Pedro Hueros), his granddaughter (Margarita), and Carson. These three people converge on each other, and once they meet their paths lead toward tragedy—albeit not what you expect. It is a story about human beings forced into times that they want no part of, but must experience.

Tucson, June 2019, was R&R while opening doors to my writing future.
I’ve well-documented my meeting with Stuart Rosebrook and True West magazine,
but I have ignored a chance meeting while leaving the Western Writers of
America (WWA) convention’s hotel with Cherry Wiener (my agent
for
The Final Showdown, and a lady that I have always had a
good relationship with since our parting a long time gone).

If I walked to my left from this overlook I would be looking at the western side of Navajo Fortress Rock. (Photo © Louis Kraft 2012)

While in Tucson this past June I brought a number of the chapters the Navajo Blood manuscript with me to mark them up with how I wanted to update it—mainly 1) More character development, 2) More culture, 3) More dialogue, 4) More action, and 5) Writing the story as I do now, while not forgetting how I wrote it in the past. This is all doable due to adding an extra 35,000 words to the genre novel’s 65,000-word draft and turning it into an historical novel. This will begin in earnest in 2020, which makes this endeavor a sister piece to E&O. I don’t want to say that they’re joined at the hip, but they are the two major projects in my current life.

This is Navajo Fortress Rock. It is in Canyon del Muerto (the canyon of death), which is one of three canyons that are jointly known as Canyon de Chelly (pronounced “de Shay”). This is the only American national monument not on USA land—it is in Arizona on the Navajo Reservation. This view is from the north, and the only way to see it from this angle is to hire a Navajo tour guide with a four-wheel drive vehicle. It is a key set piece for Navajo Blood. (Photo © Louis Kraft 2012)

The plot is detailed and moves between Carson’s dilemma, that is Carleton’s demand to end the Diné’s—as the Navajos call themselves—freedom, and Pedro and Margarita’s struggle to survive at this time of woe. As the story progresses you’ll become aware that the final confrontation between the Diné and Carson’s army will take place at Canyon de Chelly, but this isn’t the ending. The story’s climax takes place at Fort Canby, after the Navajos have begun to surrender by the hundreds. It brings tears to my eyes every time I review it, but I can’t share this. The book has to be published for you to experience what happened at Fort Canby. Know that I’m cocky SOB, and have full confidence in this story seeing print.

Untitled Kit Carson/Indian nonfiction book

The announcements in this blog may have been expected, or perhaps not. But now I’ve reached my nonfiction Indian wars future—and Kit Carson and his relationship with Indians is it. Over the last few decades he has garnered a lot of bad press. I disagree with all of it. … All of it! Anyone who explores this un-racial man’s life will agree with me.

I have work to do—that is research—but it will happen, and his relationship with American Indians will dominate this portion of my writing future. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am to really begin walking with him and the Indians in his life.

This nonfiction book idea has been with me for a long time, but I still need more primary source material to make it become reality. The goal is to complete this research in 2020 (I know, next year is a mouthful, but I’m always ambitious). At this moment all I can tell you is that the research will dictate the scope of the manuscript. I know what I’d like it to be, I know what I think it should be, but I must have the research to confirm what happened. … And some of it is so obscure that at this time I’m in the dark.

As soon as I have the research in house and have a good idea of what the book will be I’ll talk with OU Press. At the moment there is a little uncertainty of my future with them, for the two terrific editors-in-chief that I have dealt with (Chuck Rankin and Adam Kane) will be gone. Still, OU Press is “the” publisher of American Indians and American Indian wars books in the world. They are my first choice. At the same time I know that other nonfiction publishers will jump after hearing the story idea. As the X-Files used to proclaim: “The future is out there.”

The above is all that is a comin’ at this time

I have hinted at the reason for this above
(and that a lot of future writing has been purged from this blog).

In June 2019 I enjoyed a work and R&R trip to Tucson, Arizona, a city I fell in love with in the 1970s. I can’t begin to tell you how much time I’ve spent there, but it is easily over six and a half months throughout the years. … This past June something happened. I don’t know what, and neither do any of my doctors or their tests. Whatever happened, the attacks are constant and happen twice a month. Shots and drugs stop the fire, but nothing has ended it. This month I filled out the paperwork, which will hopefully garner me more paperwork to see if I can—that is will my drug insurance accept the extremely high cost, and more important that I can afford it (I know this answer now, and it is no). This drug, which may put an end to this misery, is going to remain unnamed (at least now). The year 2019 has been pure hell with drug and medical costs. My drug cost is well over $4,000. Pailin’s and my entire health care cost for 2019 is over $18,000, and this doesn’t include $6,000 USA dollars spent outside the country. …

During one of the episodes I chose not to initiate another
round of shots and drugs and the fire did not go away.

The impact has already begun …

… and it is ongoing. But I do believe that I will see Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway published. I want to hold the book in my hand. This is an extreme statement and hopefully little more than nervousness on my part. Earlier this fall I saw an allergist twice. He performed over 260 needle tests during my two visits three weeks apart. After the second, he said: “I don’t know what’s wrong, but what you have I have never seen before. I can’t help you. Good luck.”

What you are looking at is a photo that Pailin took on the morning of 4oct2019. My face had creamed, burned, and has begun to peel. This is the first night-day of my problem. My face will now puff out and a triangular bulge under my eyes will move to my temples. Also, my back will become a rectangle of bumps, but they will only itch. The redness on my face will grow to a burn that is so extreme that I won’t sleep. The only way to avoid this is to get a shot and a huge package of prescription pills that will stop the process momentarily. After the pills end, I will have perhaps three, four, or at the most six days until the process again begins. With drugs, this is a twice-a-month happening. Honestly, it is hell without an end.  (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2019)

Just seven months ago i could walk 14 miles a week (and did). Now walking a quarter mile is extreme foolishness. I’m not going to go into any details but a lot of normal physical pieces of daily life are involved. Do not ask, for all I intend to share will be below.

In November I began to bleed internally. On December 23, when I presented my condition to the doctor who had been handling my case in the hope of obtaining yet another shot and drugs so that I would look presentable on Christmas, it ended in a “no.” The reason was simple: there had been no improvement over the months and now my condition had begun to change in a way he couldn’t deal with medically.

That December 23 initiated the beginning of my future, and one that is darker than before. I walked into another of my doctor’s offices, one who has played a big part in my health for decades. He knew what was going on, but wasn’t involved, and immediately began a series of tests. But like when I was cracking my skull open a few years back, something that led directly to an emergency surgery (and not just stapling my head back together). These tests were an eye opener. Mainly my red blood count was extremely low, my balance non-existent, and my breathing belly-up (last May I passed all my breathing tests with flying colors, but on December 23 I failed every breathing test I took).

Pailin and I took this photo at Tujunga House on 18oct2019, two days before her niece and only relative in the USA (Sabrina) and Carlos (who is from El Salvador) married at Wat Thai of Los Angeles. We were in the wedding, but I wore my suit pants (Carlos wore the Thai pants in the ceremony) and Pailin looked as she did in this image. I had luckily dodged my transformation into a monster and this was a good time. (photo Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2019)

The testing is ongoing, and I’m prepared for each and every step of the process. I’m always proactive with my physicians. … My last medical appointment this year was on December 27. I walked into the office with a five-page document, which listed the medications and my changing physical status since last I saw him in early fall. We then discussed the reason for my visit, which was for a series of tests that we perform three to four times each year (and they aren’t related to my current situation). While we went through the process he raised the idea of my current physician in charge perhaps sending me to either the USC or the UCLA medical school to see if they have done any testing similar to what I’m experiencing.*

* Good friend and George Armstrong Custer and Little Bighorn battle expert and author Fred Wagner recently provided me with another lead that I intend to look into—that perhaps a parasite is the culprit.

After we completed my last test (an ultrasound; my third last week), he asked about my writing. I told him that I completed the detailed Sand Creek index in November, my reviews of the two book proofs in December, as well as signing off on the dust jacket, while adding that I had submitted my first article to True West on December 22. He shook his head and smiled. “I can’t believe that you did all of that in your condition,” he said. “My brain functions,” I replied, “and I love what I do.” He smiled again. “Good for you.”

Oh yeah, I’ve always been one lucky cowboy.

What is the future?

I don’t know what’s in front of me, other than I’ll cherish each and every moment of it. One thing is certain, and that is finances and health will be key in the upcoming years. I’m looking forward to whatever it will be.

If it is a race against time, I’ll have everything that I want—
my small family, my friends, my writing, and myself.

All blogs © Louis Kraft 2013–2020

Sand Creek Massacre update, SoCal fires, P-64, & Christmas

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


The next blog is tentatively scheduled for late March, and will feature Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway and Errol & Olivia updates as well as introduce you to Valley CORF (Comprehensive Outpatient Rehabilitation Facility). My apologies for moving the LK top 50 film list from this blog but there is still too much study that must be completed before my opinion on these films can go live.

’Tis the time of peace on earth
and goodwill to all

Christmas, like Thanksgiving, are now quiet gatherings with my family. It is a day to count our blessings and cherish each other as we pray for peace on earth and equality for all on the day that represents the birth of Jesus. Pailin and I will welcome in the New Year at the Thai Temple in North Hollywood on the evening of the thirty-first.

Pailin created this Christmas image of us for social media. The photo is from 2016 and it was from the last Christmas party we have hosted. It was mostly in the backyard until everyone moved inside after nightfall. That day was nippy, as was this Christmas. Both wouldn’t have been so cold if the wind hadn’t increased as each hour passed. … Just for the record I’m freezing when temperatures drop into the low 60s (no comment is needed). The last thing that I want to do is live in a winter wonderland. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2016)

I talk to the little boys and girls who live next door. A large hedge along my 80-foot driveway separates us but clipping and removing branches that die during heat spells creates openings wherein we can see each other (and this includes a little boy who lives two doors farther south). They are Latino, but unlike some of their parents they are bi-lingual and speak terrific English. But if not, we’d still be friends. … I walk a lot, often to various stores, and see them in their front yards and when they walk with their parents. I’m almost always around, I have a car they like a lot, they also like my shaggy hair (compliments of yours truly) as theirs is neatly clipped. It matters not if they only had a handful of English for we’d still be able to communicate.

We talk almost daily, and it is enjoyable for us, as we are curious about each other. They had their Christmas tree at least a week and a half before the twenty-fifth. They wanted to know if I had mine. “No.” “When are you going to get it?” “I’m not.” “Why?” “I don’t have any children like you.” “Doesn’t your girlfriend want a Christmas tree?” I chuckled. “She’s my wife, and she’s okay without one. Actually, I haven’t had a tree since my little girl grew up.” “Oh.” There was disappointment in his voice. His simple “Oh” touched me and my memories drifted back to Christmas days long gone but not forgotten.

This card is a major update to a Christmas card that I created in 1992. There were three printed words inside the card: “life … love … peace …” These words are still with me today. May they be with you today, tomorrow, and forever … LK. (image © Louis Kraft 1992, 2018)

I’ve missed giving talks …

Probably the major piece of my life that Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway forced me to walk away from years back were giving talks. They almost always got me on the road, and I love to travel. More important was/is the thrill of doing one-time presentations before audiences while not knowing what was going to come out of my mouth.

LK talking about “Cheyenne Indian Agent Edward Wynkoop’s 1867 Fight to Prevent War” at the Chávez History Library (Santa Fe, N. Mex.) on 15sept2004. BTW, this talk dealt with the destruction of the Southern Cheyenne-Dog Man-Sioux village on the Pawnee Fork in Kansas. It is a key piece in the Sand Creek manuscript Epilogue, which shows “the tragic end of a lifeway.” I shouldn’t say the following, but heck these blogs are for LK publicity (and hopefully offer a little entertainment). … The Chávez houses the Louis Kraft Collection of his work, photos, and correspondence (AC 402 and ACP 010 for the photo archive). Tomas Jahen created it at the beginning of this century. He has moved on to become the Director,
Special Collections/CSWR University of New Mexico Libraries as well as becoming a great pal of LK. (photo © Louis Kraft 2004)

I’m prepared, always, but I refuse to read or use slides. I know what I’m going to talk about and I do work on it, but the only thing that I attempt to memorize are quotes.

Sometimes quotes walk out the door of my memory at the most inopportune moments. Paraphrasing usually saves the day, but not always. A number of years back I was talking about Errol Flynn’s performance as George Armstrong Custer in They Died with Their Boots On (Warner Bros., 1941) and comparing the fictional Custer with the real Custer. My favorite scene in the eight films that Flynn made with Olivia de Havilland was at the end of Boots. Olivia, as Elizabeth (Libbie) Custer, helps Flynn pack before he marches to his destiny at the Little Big Horn in Montana Territory on June 25, 1876. During the talk (in Hardin, Montana, in 2011) I used some of the dialogue between them in this scene and of course went blank when I got to my favorite line that Flynn’s Custer said to Olivia’s Libbie—”Walking through life with you, ma’am, has been a very graceful thing.” There’s one thing when you perform live, and that is you keep going. I did but in a different way, I asked the audience for the line and one of the fellows in the front row or near the front row knew it. Think it might have been Gary Leonard, an Indian wars historian from England, whom I met a year later when Custer and the Cheyenne won an award in Oklahoma City, and who has since become a good friend.

Back on focus

Due to the massive undertaking of the Sand Creek story (not to mention The Discovery, 2016, which I wrote to pay for an operation that I didn’t know about until after the fact—money I didn’t have), everything went on hold. As mentioned above, talks were no longer on my schedule. Ditto articles, plays, and believe it or not this year’s blogs (my last one was posted in May).

Talk about a disappearing act. …

LK and Pailin on the evening of 22nov2018 (Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday). We are in the dining room at Tujunga House but due to the glare of lights in widows and mirrors (yes, mirrors—that’s a mirror behind Pailin and not an entry to the dining room) what is behind us is not behind us. Make sense? No? I didn’t think so. … See, I’m not a total outcast; I have a social life with my small family. (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2018)

At times it is easy to create an outline or a proposal, but in the Sand Creek manuscript there was a massive problem and it wasn’t the research (but in my case the research doesn’t end until no more changes can be made, and this isn’t a joke). It was the massiveness of the players from all points of view. After mining the facts the question became how do I pull all their stories together seamlessly in a linear way and make it work with the larger picture of what was affecting their lives? This is a hell of a lot easier said than done, and certainly when the scope of the manuscript is huge. For those of you who don’t know I have done everything possible to be in the players point-of-view (POV, a film term) when dealing with them. The reason is simple, I want to show what they did and what they said for this will allow the reader to make their decisions about the Cheyennes and Arapahos, the whites who married into the tribes, their offspring, the whites who coveted Indian land, and those who spoke out against the massacre of people who thought that they were removed from the 1864 Cheyenne war in Colorado Territory.

I know, it’s a mouthful but an exploration that has become a big part of my life. Honestly, I’m one lucky cowboy to have it in my life.

Fire, fire, and more fire, … and which blog goes live

Fire has become the new normal in California and in other western states. Unfortunately it is not going away. The year 2017 was the worst fire year in California history, but 2018 surpassed it by late spring. By fall 2018 destroyed the 2017 figures.

This Los Angeles Times photo (12nov2018) isn’t as dramatic as the multitude of photos that pictured lines and lines of destroyed vehicles that did not escape from Paradise in the Camp fire, but it has massive importance. The San Fernando Valley (SFV) has a population of 1.75 million. If the Woolsey fire had continued east through Calabasas, Bell Canyon, and West Hills the number of destroyed vehicles would have been in the 10s of thousands. I know, this sounds like a ridiculous disaster movie plot, but someday it could become reality. This is the second year in a row when raging fires invaded the SFV. In 2017 fire struck the northeastern and eastern sides of the Valley (and both of those were within five miles of my house), and every effort was put in place to stop them.

Certainly the Woolsey fire in Los Angeles and Ventura Counties (November 2018) has affected me and many other people (and most of them much-much-much worse than me and for many of them their lives will never be as before). … So has my breathing clinic, my Sand Creek manuscript, and my film blog, which preempted this Sand Creek blog, only to get preempted in return (fair is fair). Even though the work on Sand Creek has been ongoing for what seems like a lifetime (read never-ending) things change. …

The Woolsey fire, its devastation, is an example of daily life in California.*

There is a mostly-unpublished fact that has recently come to light
(regarding Northern California). The Camp fire, which wiped
out the town of Paradise (November 2018) and quickly
became the worst and deadliest fire in the Golden
State’s history has a statistic that is frightening.
Between 2003 and 2018 this portion of
Northern California had permits to
build 24,000+ houses. During
this time fire has destroyed
20,000+ homes.

* See https://www.louiskraftwriter.com/2018/01/01/louis-kraft-socal-fires-earthquakes-sand-creek-massacre-an-errol-flynn-tidbit/ for details about the 2017 SoCal fires.

The nightmare is ongoing. A study just released pointed out that over 1.1 million buildings are at fire risk in California, according to the Los Angeles Times (“A million buildings facing fire risk stir cries for action,” 22dec2018; see the map at left and drag it onto your desktop to expand it), that is “roughly 1 in 10 buildings.” The largest number of these buildings are in Los Angeles County: 114,000, “including tens of thousands of Westside and San Fernando Valley houses in the Santa Monica, Santa Susana and San Gabriel mountains”. … The Times went on to state: “The findings follow a fire season of unprecedented destruction—more than 20,000 homes lost, more than 100 people killed—that showed what damage can be done if Californians fail to address a widespread risk.”

The real SoCal

California rainfall season is from October 1 until September 31. For the rainfall season ending on 31sept2018 for Los Angeles the rainfall was 4.74 inches.* … Regardless if SoCal has a lucky year of rainfall as we did between 1oct16 and 31sept17, which was about 18 inches (an anomaly), SoCal suffered through the worse year on record for fire destruction in California in 2017. …

* As of December 26 the rainfall for the season that began on October 1, 2018, is 4.26 inches (three months into the year and we have almost reached last season’s entire output). Fingers are crossed.

Even though the destruction during recent fire seasons has increased this century everyone thought that 2017 was an anomaly. It wasn’t. By late spring 2018 the fire season (which now almost feels like it is year round) surpassed 2017. That year two fires came within five miles of Tujunga House (one from the east and one from the north).* What do you take if you must run? Pailin and I know what documentation is mandatory, and we have more than most people for Pailin has gone through multiple processes to obtain permanent residency, obtain a Social Security number, driver’s license, and of major importance pass the required testing to obtain a certificate that she is one of the top massage therapists in California (it is illegal to work in the state if you don’t have this license and raids are ongoing).

* I would need a large U-haul to get my research to safety (not a comforting thought) or a year to digitize it (not going to happen), and this doesn’t include a lot of artifacts, posters, photos, and books).

As of 17nov2018 over 98,000 acres have burned in the Woolsey fire. … The Griffith Park fire started on the morning of 9nov2018 where Victory Boulevard crosses over the 134 freeway just east of I-5 at the southern entrance to the Los Angeles Zoo and the Autry Museum of the American West. The brush fire was totally extinguished by the next morning with only 30 burnt acres. Luckily there were no Santa Ana winds on the east side of the San Fernando Valley for the cities of Glendale (east and northern border) and Burbank (to the north and northeast) while the town of North Hollywood was northwest (about seven miles to Tujunga House), … all highly populated areas. (To view a larger rendition of the map drag it to your desktop and open it.)

On 7nov18 fires again struck SoCal with an intent to destroy and kill (a day after the Camp fire in Northern California destroyed most of the town of Paradise (population of approximately 26,000). …What has happened during the Camp fire in Butte County (where the town of Paradise once stood) has been an ongoing nightmare. As of 17nov2018 9,800 homes have been destroyed, the death count currently is 71 (this number is now over 100, but it includes some deaths in SoCal) with 1,001 people still missing (this figure has dropped, but they’ll never find all of the missing). I don’t know what you see outside of California but I see it all. The story of Sand Creek and the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians is a tragedy; so is the story of the people who once lived in Paradise. Some died in their homes, others died in their cars as they attempted to flee, while even more died after deserting their cars in a last-gasp effort to survive.

This image of Llamas on a beach in Malibu, Calif., on 9nov18 (© Wally Skalij for the Los Angeles Times) is worth 10,000 words for it shows the horror that has become a yearly occurrence in California. The two llamas, Thunder and Luke (called alpacas in a later edition of the Times), and the horse, Gidget, are west of the Santa Monica Mountains and they are as far west as they can go for just beyond them is the Pacific Ocean. They symbolize not only the destruction of property but also the massive loss of animal life (wild and not). Luckily Thunder and Luke were evacuated to Ojai, a gorgeous valley/small city north of the city of Ventura (Ventura County), and Gidget to a stable in Glendale (a city in LA County; I-5 is its western border and the Ca. 134 freeway cuts through it as it begins to climb the mountain on its way to Pasadena).

My time is short, and the fires in California have again become the fires from hell. I don’t have time to keep writing about this ongoing disaster, so perhaps this social media post will give you some indication of the immensity of the threat: Woolsey fire as related to Los Angeles county on 12nov18. The fire that has ravaged Ventura and Los Angeles Counties was contained around November 19. Some 300,000 people were evacuated in California since these fires broke out in early November; 177,000 lived in Los Angeles County. It could have been worse—much worse—if the Woolsey fire had completed its invasion of the San Fernando Valley, it had the possibility of forcing an additional 1.75 million evacuations.* So what’s the big deal? This example should give you an idea. One of my physician’s office is on Ventura Blvd. in Encino. It is a 10 mile drive. To arrive at a nine o’clock appointment on time I need to be on the road by seven-twenty.

* If the SFV was a city it would be the fifth largest in the USA (only NYC, LA, Chicago, and Houston would be larger).

When the Santa Ana winds strike their speeds can quickly grow from 40 mph to 60 to 75 and more. The firefighters, some of whom at times worked 36 hours straight, had to deal with not only the power of the Santa Anas but also the sudden change of direction.

Many people lost everything but their lives. Everything. Already many know that they can’t rebuild for what they had originally paid for their homes is peanuts in today’s market and unfortunately many could not keep increasing their fire insurance.

My house before moving to Tujunga House was in Thousand Oaks. A very safe and gorgeous city in Ventura County (just north of LA County). It was on a hill, had a courtyard, swimming pool (swimming is my favorite individual exercise; I’ve been a fish since elementary school), and a half-block walk into the Santa Monica Mountains. The house survived as the fire was farther south.

An LK reality

My life is what it is, and it has been this for way for a long time. My world is simple: Protecting three women, surviving, and living to see my Sand Creek manuscript published. This doesn’t sound like much but for me it’s a big deal.

Art of LK and his pistol-packing lady that I began several years after I began pitching the idea of bringing Johnny’s novel to the stage (see the paragraph to the left of this image). I’m a chameleon but this is an image that reappears in my life time and again. … Pailin? She is my lady for all time, and as such she is with me in all my incarcerations. She backs me at all times no matter deep I immerse myself in my projects, no matter how far I drop out of society. She is with me and I am with her. (art © Louis Kraft 2015-2018)

The LK reality is the book projects and the people in my life. Relax for this blog will focus on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway past, present, and future. Long time comin’. … But first I need to get a little personal with the recent past, present, and future. Not that long back I had pitched two friends on me writing a play based on East of the Border, a novel by Johnny D. Boggs, wherein James Butler (Wild Bill) Hickok tours the theatre circuit in the East with Buffalo Bill Cody and Texas Jack Omohundro. Wild Bill feels awkward treading the theatrical boards, is bored, hates what he is doing, and is often drunk. He discovers that when he fires his revolver too close to extras playing dead Indians that they leap to life when the blank firing burns them. He loves this. Type casting for LK? Probably. I’ve wanted to play Wild Bill since the first time I read Johnny’s novel.

LK, a former friend, and John Goodwin at a Galaxy Press event in Hollywood, Calif., in June 2010. I designed two of the hats (center and left), the buckskin coat, and moccasins years back.

This desire goes back years, and as I’ve said in previous blogs Lisa Smith, Johnny’s wife, said it would make a great play. Still Johnny has been silent (probably because he didn’t want me to adapt his book for the stage), and the other key person in this triangle, Tom Eubanks, who has directed all of the Ned Wynkoop one-man shows (Kansas, California, Colorado, and Oklahoma), as well as Cheyenne Blood (which ran for five weeks in SoCal), showed little interest.* Eventually I gave up on what I thought would make a good play, and better a great character for LK to play. They probably thought I’d embarrass myself. … I never get embarrassed, and certainly not when I’m wearing a wide-brimmed hat, buckskins, moccasins, and packing an 1860 Colt. Are you kidding?

* See https://www.louiskraftwriter.com/2016/09/17/the-tom-eubanks-louis-kraft-ned-wynkoop-errol-flynn-connection/ for images of the Wynkoop one-man shows and Cheyenne Blood, plus more on Tom Eubanks.

I believe in reaching for the stars, … and if I get lucky and my wish/prayers become reality to reach for another impossible dream—that is many more years with my ladies and perhaps yet another book, and another, and another, … and another. Yep! I’m a greedy ol’ dog.

Since the end of May it has been an ongoing string of Sand Creek edits, dealing with the peer reviews, adding new information, checking and double checking citations, searching for key information that I need in the manuscript, reaching out for help with other experts on my subject (which, believe it or not I’ve been living with since the 1980s). This is always a good time for it is totally creative. It’s also a scramble as the manuscript must now come together and flow smoothly between people and events as the story races toward conclusion.

My great friend George Carmichael took this image while we enjoyed the Pacific Ocean in northern San Diego County in March 2001. I met George at a fiction class at UCLA in 1990. We were both writing western novels: His was traditional, mine was modern day on the Navajo Reservation. We didn’t see eye-to-eye, but somehow became great friends until the end of his life on 2apr2014. He was an engineer turned published fictional short story writer while I focused on becoming a novelist. Although I have two published novels I’m proud of (The Final Showdown, 1992, and The Discovery, w/Robert S. Goodman, 2016), I reached an intersection in the road, yanked the wheel to the left, and became a writer of nonfiction. (photo © Louis Kraft 2001)

Sound like fiction? Maybe. Sound like a film plot? Perhaps. … For LK it is nonfiction with many intricate pieces that must merge in a linear fashion and not jerk all over the place. … Been there and done that. But that doesn’t count for the scope of this manuscript is massive and I must connect all the players and events in a manner that makes the reader turn pages.

That’s right—turn pages. I believe that nonfiction is just like fiction, plays, film, articles, talks, and blogs. It must grab the reader’s (or viewer’s) interest at the beginning and hold it until the end. Will I succeed at this? You’ll have to read Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway to learn the answer.

Ladies and gents, the question of the Sand Creek manuscript being published in my lifetime is now passé. I’m one tired and skinny cowboy but I get up between four and five with a big grin on my face almost seven days each week.

A big grin, for my tablespoon of organic apple cider vinegar in a glass of water and then a cup or three of coffee begins my days of exploration and confirmation and word-crafting and polishing. … This is a golden time for LK and it gets better as the days pass, for this is just the beginning. See below.

The reality of this time

I don’t want to say that it was bad. At the same time I don’t want to say that it was good.

As I floated for months in a no-man’s zone that hovered between success and failure I was totally alive as each day merged into the next and the next and the next. One edit became the next edit and then the next, with each a challenge all its own. I’m social, very social, and get along with all people (two exceptions being racists and sexual predators that hit on me and other people; perhaps I should add habitual liars to the list). I’m also a loner. Although I want a special person in my life at all times I can thrive in a solitary environment. … Although I have many people that are a major part of my literary/creative world (these people are my best friends), and I spend a lot of time with them via the phone, email, social media, as well as in person whenever I get lucky. When it gets down to the writing it is me, my computer, pens, and paper. Zero days pass without work, and this drives me to the next day and the one after. I live and breathe my work.

This is my lady praying at Tujunga House on 9sept2018. We have two different upbringings, two different cultures, two different languages, and two different religions. When we met we took our time and slowly got to know each other, to respect each other, to trust each other, to explore each other’s lives, and to love each other. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft, 2018)

I am with my lady 100 percent of the time day in and day out no matter what our work schedules are. One hundred percent of the time. If someone badmouths her or hints that I should cheat because they have an open relationship I don’t run to the bathroom and vomit. Still you do not want to
hear my opinion of these slimballs for it isn’t printable in this blog or elsewhere. AND I don’t talk about them with friends either. For me
people like this aren’t worthy of mentioning. They are dirt, they mean nothing, and I remove them from my life.

Add racism to the formula, and I can say one thing and it is important—I grew up in a racially-tolerant family at a time when racism was rampant in the USA. Over the years all of us have seen a massive amount of progress to alleviate this hateful and harmful blot on the world. Unfortunately something evil took center stage in 2015 and people embraced a man who has no respect for humankind or women or the truth. This opened a door and racists crashed through it. It is the here and now, but like all evil that has thrown a dark shadow over the world in the past it will be pushed to the side and a humanitarian light will once again shine.

LK (right), Linda Kraft (left, d. 2006), and our mother Doris (center, d. 1980) in 1955 at the Van Nuys trailer park, our first permanent home in Los Angeles after parking the trailer in rural backyards for a long period of time. The car was a 1950 Hudson Commodore and it pulled the 35-foot trailer in the background to California. My dad owned the car from when he bought it in 1950 until 1998, a year before his death (and I had many happy memories driving it). (photo © Louis Kraft 1955)

My first best friend was a Latino (in a time when the word wasn’t used). I was seven and he was five or six. I was Walt Disney’s Davy Crockett and he was my sidekick (actually, he was also Davy Crockett for we were equals, even at that age and time) as we climbed the man-made mountain on the west side of the trailer park where we lived in Van Nuys, California, in 1955. We climbed it and slid down into the wonder of the Los Angeles River that flowed on the other side of what would become the infamous Ca. 405 freeway. We were explorers as we followed the flow of the river on the sandbanks below the trees that lined the water flow. It was a mystical time. Others—not many—also skirted the river; some adults and others younger. Not once were Jesse and I ever threatened. Try to do this in our 2018 world and Jesse Carrera and I would have become easy targets.

A Little about how I write and the Sand Creek peer reviews

Although I write my books from proposals and outlines there are no preconceived directions, and it doesn’t matter what the writing medium is, for I go where the research and the words lead me.

For the record I over-write everything and I don’t care what my subject or genre is. The reason is simple: The more facts, anecdotes, quotes, events, people’s actions the better for when it is time to cut, edit, add, polish, and bring the words together the better chance I have of creating the manuscript that I envision. … At same time I’m totally aware of the contracted word count.

Pailin on the bluffs to the west of the Sand Creek village at the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site (NHS) on 3oct2014. Our wonderful friends John and Linda Monnett, whom we had been staying with, drove us there that day. This is one of my favorite images of Pailin, as she is an explorer and as at home in the field as I am. She’s also like me in that she is a little goofball. (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft, 2014)

I had begun editing the manuscript in June 2018 in the hope to deliver a polished manuscript by 15sept2018—an impossible deadline, and especially so when I received the two peer reviews in early August. As expected they were professional, well done, and with a lot of good comments and questions. As it turned out neither said a word about the huge word count and both highly recommended publication.

One of the reviewers had the following to say about the Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway manuscript: “Kraft … purposefully devotes nearly two-thirds of his manuscript to that time before conflict [meaning before the Sand Creek Massacre]. That portion of the work is delightfully original and a marvelous setup to the final third of the book, when for the Southern Cheyennes their world changed forever.”

LK with Scott Gillette, chief of interpretation at the Sand Creek Massacre NHS administration building in Eads, Colo., on 3oct2014. Scott has always been open and friendly to me, and he has time and again aided my research. Thank you, Scott. … Oh yeah, they sell Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft, 2014)

He went on to say, “Kraft has a fine way with words. … There are any number of Sand Creek histories, some good, some atrocious. Kraft’s point is not to refight the episode but to use it as a defining moment in the telling of a multi-generational history of the Southern Cheyennes, from their earliest appearances through Sand Creek and slightly beyond to the coming of the reservation era. No other Sand Creek history contextualizes this story as he does. Equally if not more important, this reader is unaware of any comparably detailed history of the Southern Cheyennes told within the same broad timeframe that Kraft embraces. That alone makes this work a gem.” Finally this reviewer said something that blew me away: “Kraft knows this story and its primary and secondary sources intimately. He utilizes his sources soundly, challenges in his notes various source shortcomings, contradictions, and nuances; notes where sources have been misused by others; and in all fashions a story destined to be deemed, I believe, definitive on the subject.”

Whew! … Heady words, kind words, and I didn’t expect them. I hope that they prove out to be true. Time will tell.

I had miles to walk and thousands upon thousands of words to cut while fine-tuning the story line and polishing.

A return to the Woolsey fire destruction

Some of the following words and views were pulled from recent LK postings on
other social media (actually those posts were created for this blog).

I can’t walk away from the Woolsey fire and its destruction of film history. Robert Florczak, my great friend and also an Errol Flynn historian, in July 2016, took me to Lasky Mesa, a massive mountainous and valley area (in the Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve), an easy 35 minute drive from my house on Victory Boulevard). I met Robert at his apartment on that day, and he drove. After parking in the lot where Victory Boulevard dead-ends at to the eastern entry to the Open Space Preserve you have perhaps a two-mile hike around and over hills as you work your way to an open area surrounded by hills and in the distance mountains—Lasky Mesa. Dirt roads and paths meander through the area and down into small canyons. That July there was a lot of dried grass up to my knees.

On 13jul2016 LK stood where Errol Flynn’s Seventh Cavalry rode to their death in They Died with Their Boots On (Warner Bros., 1941). (photo © Louis Kraft and Robert Florczak 2016) … For the record three of the eight Flynn-de Havilland films were westerns, and all had back stories that will be dealt with in detail in Errol & Olivia.

This mostly-ignored hilly area has been seen in many major films from the Golden Age of Cinema. This includes Errol Flynn’s glorious death as George Armstrong Custer (They Died with Their Boots On) that was shot in fall 1941. That day Robert was working on confirming the tree near where Errol Flynn and Alan Hale sat upon their horses as the coach with Flynn’s then wife Nora Eddington approached at the end of Adventures of Don Juan (Warner Bros., 1948), … as well as the tree from a famous scene from Gone with the Wind (Selznick International Pictures/MGM, 1939). I have this film on DVD but have not seen it in decades (and never in one complete screening) as the film bores me. However, for Errol & Olivia (and sooner than I now expect) it will become a film that I study in detail while I decide what I’ll say about Olivia de Havilland’s performance.

LK & RF on Lasky Mesa on 9jul2016. Before capturing the image that Robert suggested that we pose for, … as if we were going crazy in John Huston’s 1948 Warner Bros. classic film, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. I had never seen it but had seen photos of Humphrey Bogart, Walter Huston, among others, and have read about it; I need to see it. (photo Robert Florczak and © Robert Florczak & Louis Kraft 2016)

Robert Florczak and LK were in trouble by the time we finished our research on Lasky Mesa. Between us we had a lot of water but the heat soared to 105-106 degrees (as we knew it would). By about three in the afternoon we headed back to the parking lot where Robert’s SUV was parked. One problem. We had a long walk in front of us. Would we make it was not only on our minds but something we discussed, including if one of us dropped the other would drag him to safety. As you can see in the photo we had been walking down but would soon turn to the left and begin to climb a hill only to continue to meander to the right and left as we descended, climbed, and worked our way back to his vehicle. At the time of the image we had stopped to catch our breath and Robert proposed this portrait of us. After we looked at it we agreed that it would never see the light of day. Oops! Recently RF sent me this image on social media. OOPS!!!! I guess all bets are off. … For the record this is what historians really look like when they are in the field.

Lasky Mesa is north (or east) of the Ca. 101 freeway as it slices northwest and skirts the Pacific Ocean. Soon after one can exit the 101 and drive west on Kanan Dume Road toward the Santa Monica Mountains until it reaches the Pacific Ocean. To the north of the road as it begins to enter the mountains is/was the Paramount Ranch (a back lot for a major film studio in Los Angeles during days gone by).

Fire devastation beyond human tragedy

But by no means has this been only humankind’s loss. The devastation has been beyond belief throughout California over the last few years, and not just to the families that have lost everything (many of whom won’t be able to rebuild as the cost has become prohibitive), but also for the loss of the trees and grasses and plants that are native to Southern California (actually all of California). And I cannot forget the wild life, many of whom have been forced to share their land with invading humans. I’m certain that this has not been an easy adaptation for them.

Lizards

I have pet lizards. I call them pets as I talk to them and often they listen, but they aren’t pets. I walk carefully when they are present as I don’t want to frighten them for they are wild. … I don’t know their view of me, but I consider them friends.

I took this photo of Tujunga House at 4:41 am on 6feb2018. It is a photo, not art, and it is full frame. There was an early morning fog and I took advantage of it and captured some great images. The foreground light was provided by a telephone pole that is just south of the driveway. The front yard is a good portion of the lizards’ homeland, and it is a wonder to watch them enjoy their environment. (photo © Louis Kraft 2018)

I don’t feed the lizards, but Pailin and I have created a home for them on the north side of the driveway with two pieces of granite near a huge bougainvillea in a plantable area that I cleared except for one white rosebush. The lizards discovered that the granite provided shelter from the elements and they have made the area their home. Tujunga House is surrounded by mostly desert vegetation. I don’t water often, but when I do it is for my lemon trees, bamboo, and roses (Pailin makes rose tea). Every so often I’ll water a plant that needs it, only to give one of the lizards a shower. It darts away, stops, turns and stares at me, almost as if saying, “What the hell are you doing?” … They know that we keep two monsters (a Vette and an M-B), and when they come to life and growl the lizards get off the driveway to where they will be safe and watch until the beasts come to a halt or leave their land. …

How many lizards died in the Woolsey fire? I could never venture a guess, but I know that it was way-too-many.

P-64

Here I’m also talking about an animal that is my favorite as it is so sleek and graceful (more so than wolves or horses or coyotes or doberman pinchers, my other favorite animals). They are sometimes called panthers, but much-more often pumas. They are mountain lions that live in Los Angeles (city and county). When caught, and they are never harmed, they receive a GPS collar, tagged, and given a name designated with a “P-” and a number. They are then returned to their habitat, tracked, observed, but never fed or pampered. If sick, and cameras are set up in areas they frequent, and their condition is captured, they are medically treated and returned to their homeland that ranges through the Santa Monica Mountains that separate downtown Los Angeles, the Westside, and the beaches from the San Fernando Valley (SFV) and the Ca. 101 freeway that connects downtown Los Angeles with the SFV (population of 1.75 million) to Agoura Hills, Malibu, Westlake, Thousand Oaks, Oxnard, Ventura, and onward to Santa Barbara and beyond.

This is P-64 in the photo (courtesy: National Park Service). He was captured in February 2018 in the Simi Hills, Ventura County (northwest of LA County) and fitted with his collar and tag in his ear. This image shows him exiting a blind culvert that is in total darkness as it zigzags under the Ca. 101 freeway. The day after he was set free he became the second puma to be captured on film crossing the 101 freeway (I don’t believe that it was this image). Since that time he crossed not only the 101 but also the Ca. 118 freeway that slices through the northern portion of the SFV and into Simi Valley. It is not known how many times he crossed these freeways risking death by dodging speeding autos during night hours (unfortunately numerous mountain lions have lost their lives doing this), but he was tracked doing it forty-one times since he received his collar.

P-64 was a pathfinder and adventurer in that he expanded his habitat while trapped inside civilization. This was how it always was for him; the only life he ever knew. Then fire, fire, and more fire that increased time and again over recent years. But this time it wasn’t beyond the next hill—it was all around him. On November 26, and again on the twenty-eighth his GPS tracked him. But Jeff Sikich, a wildlife biologist who tracked the four-year old, said he was caught between the avalanche of blaring sirens, an army of firefighters, and frantic humans, and moved back into the burnt area near Oak Park and the Simi Hills in Ventura County. Glen Williams and I discussed P-64 in detail on December 10 and decided he was terrified and chose the best of his two options.

I believe that this is Jeff Sikich displaying two of P-64’s paws. Sikich located him near a streambed on December 3, 2018, about two or three days after he died. He wasn’t burned by flames but was forced to cross hot embers. The burns were severe, which would have hindered his hunting. It has been surmised that the burns might have led to infection. (photo courtesy: National Park Service)

The pumas have adapted to the massive encroachment upon their homeland. They cross freeways and range north and east and west of the San Fernando Valley. Some are in the San Gabriel Mountains that are on the northern side of the San Gabriel Valley (the next valley to the east of the SFV, where I wrote for software companies for 12 years). Mountain lions are predators and they do live off the land. Thus one must be careful when in their territory.

Our mountain lions are famous and often the Los Angeles Times prints articles of births, status, activity, and accomplishments of those we have come to know (and in my case, and friend Julie McHam) care about. Unfortunately the Times also shares their end of life.

Another piece of Hollywood lost to flames

This is one of the photos that Glen Williams shot at the Paramount Ranch on 25may2012. (photo © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2012)

To the north of Kanan Dume Road as it moves west from the Ca. 101 freeway and toward the Santa Monica Mountains is/was the Paramount Ranch (Paramount Pictures was a major film studio in Hollywood during the glory days long gone; so many mergers and purchases have happened I don’t know who owns it now). I worked at the studio in the ’70s and early ’80s; Nice place to work. My bro Glen Williams and I did a photo shoot at the western town on the Paramount Ranch (just building fronts for all interiors would be shot on sound stages) in May 2012. A good day for LK. In the dark ages I earned money as a model. Hated it! But the money paid bills. This modeling with Glen (as was other great excursions with him) was for companionship, as well as photos that might be used for publicity or for artwork. … Sadly the Paramount Ranch no longer exists. It had provided locations for films and now it is a piece of California history.* Just thinking about this brings tears to my eyes.

* Friend Dennis Clark saw in his local newspaper that the western town would be rebuilt within the next 24 months. My fingers are crossed that the article he read is accurate. If yes, Glen, ol’ bro, we need to do a Paramount Ranch photo shoot 2. If yes, I want our ladies to join us and make it a foursome.

The Wynkoop book and the Sand Creek manuscript

Errol Flynn’s portrayal of George Armstrong Custer (They Died with Their Boots On, Warner Bros., 1941) brought me to Custer, a lot of articles, talks, and Custer and the Cheyenne: George Armstrong Custer’s Winter Campaign on the Southern Plains (see Custer and the Cheyenne wins the Jay D. Smith award for its contribution to the study of Custeriana), Upton and Sons, Publishers, 1995).

LK with Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association convention in Oakland, Calif., on 15oct211. Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek premiered at this event. The poster in the background is now displayed at Tujunga House. (photo © Louis Kraft and Chuck Rankin, 2011)

Mr. Custer brought me to the Cheyennes and a fellow named Ned Wynkoop. When I started writing and talking about Wynkoop in the 1980s (and he had a lot to do with Colorado Territory history in the 1860s) I never dreamed that he would lead me to a major player in my writing life that I didn’t meet until the beginning of this century—Charles (Chuck) Rankin, the former editor-in-Chief of University of Oklahoma Press (OU Press). Chuck played a big part in the development of Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005). We spent many years talking about Wynkoop as we developed a proposal that would work for both of us. When we got together in Oklahoma City in 2006 he said to me that the beginning of a manuscript draft I sent him was a little light in content. “… And I’m 15,000 words over my contracted limit,” I replied. “Why don’t we spilt the manuscript into two books?” “Let’s think about this,” he said. During the next month or two he agreed to increase the manuscript from the contracted 90,000 words to 125,000 words.

Shortly before Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (OU Press, 2011) went into production Chuck asked me if I’d like to write a book about the Sand Creek Massacre. I told him, “No. I write about people and not war.” Chuck refused to walk away and over the next year or so we talked in person, on the phone, and via email. We worked on a proposal that was suitable to both of us. The contracted word count was 125,000-135,000, and I needed the higher number (and more) as the scope was huge to show and not tell what happened.

That was then … this is now

In April of this year I was informed that for the Sand Creek manuscript to be published in 2019 I needed to submit a completed draft for peer review, deal with the peer reviews, and deliver a polished manuscript no later than 15sept2018. As I didn’t have a completed rough first draft … on May 31 I delivered an incomplete but huge draft for review. I don’t gamble with cards or money but I do gamble with my projects. This was a big-time LK gamble for one and certainly two thumbs-down reviews would end my relationship with OU Press.

LK image shot by Pailin on 4aug2018 by request of the OU Press Publicity Department. There were exteriors with a hat and interiors w/o a hat. This photo I like (as I’m happy) but it is slightly out of focus (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2018)

It was an impossible task, and one I knew would never happen. … Still I dug in and pressed forward. In early August I received the two peer reviews. Both were positive and provided first-class comments (which required additional words), and more important neither mentioned that my incomplete manuscript was huge or that I should trim the word count (which was then 204,000+).

Hey Kraft, this mess is your creation.

I know. … and as I said above the more words, events, and character development I have the better it is to cut, add, edit, rewrite, and polish. In other words I am now in LK heaven (or perhaps LK hell). My days and nights merged—became one. Sleep was a delicacy that I no longer had. Days passed and September 15 loomed. Delivering a polished manuscript that was close to the required contracted word limit vanished. Current OU Press Editor-in-Chief Adam Kane upped the word count to 150,000. This was impossible and I told him I needed 160,000 words or more.

On September 14 I emailed Adam and told him that I would not make the 15th deadline (meaning there would be no publication of the book in 2019). A big loss as I don’t want to be like Errol Flynn and have my last book published after my death, a scenario that walks with me more often than desired. Back to the positive, missing that deadline was a godsend.

September 15 came and went, and I pounded the keyboard. A hundred words gone, a thousand words gone, five thousand words gone, and more and more. As I knew it would, the manuscript tightened and flowed.

An example of a long-gone Laser Disc cover of The Time Machine (MGM, 1960) signed by Rod Taylor and supporting player Alan Young. The film  was extraordinary in 1960 but it hasn’t survived time well, mainly because special effects have seen lightyears of improvement since the ’60s. Taylor’s performance was decent, but this film is not close to being in my upcoming top 50 LK films blog (tentatively scheduled for late March 2019), which will also feature Valley CORF (Tarzana, Calif.), a breathing, balance, and strength clinic that has done wonders for LK. … There is a good chance that Taylor will have three films on the list.

It was almost as if I was Rod Taylor in his star-making film The Time Machine (MGM, 1960) as I sat in front of my computer for the days flashed forward at lightening speed and words changed, sometimes to grow while often many disappeared in an ongoing merge of days, weeks, months.

This was my now while it was also my then. A vast desert of sweltering heat that I’ve walked time and again. Familiarity beckons confidence. Been there! Done that! … and I know the outcome. We’re talking about my freelance writing, but we’re also talking about my twenty-plus years writing for the software world. ZOOOOOMMMMMM!!!! I’m Rod Taylor riding his time machine … NO! I’m LK sitting tall in my chair as my fingers dance over the keyboard and my monitor flashes the changes in real time. I’m alive in my world. … My world!

Two hundred four thousand plus words fade into history for it has become 197,000, 191,000, 185,000, 179,000, 173,000, 168,000, 165,000 … and counting.

Today’s Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway

The “was” brought me into the “now.” On 15nov18 I delivered my “last” rough Sand Creek draft to Adam Kane. Actually by an email mistake, but that didn’t matter as I had anticipated making the delivery on November 16, which would have been the same draft minus a few files that were meant LK’s eyes only.

I will deliver the maps to cartographer Bill Nelson and Adam on January 7, 2019, and my polished Sand Creek draft to Adam on the fourteenth.

I have been collecting possible events and locations for the maps as I have worked my way through my manuscript polish. At the moment there are a fair amount of choices but most will be eliminated as space is limited. I don’t want to tell you what the selections are but those chosen will be based upon what I consider primary locations and actions during the flow of the text.

As stated elsewhere in this blog I do everything possible to show and not tell in my books. I can’t begin to tell you how important this is—at least to me. When Chuck and I created the 37-page proposal for the Sand Creek manuscript “show and don’t tell” was forever front and center. This takes more words but the extra words are worth their weight in gold a thousand times over when the book is published. This is as it should always be. Words are mandatory but it is the showing that must grab the readers and never let go. If done correctly the reader will turn pages, and more than they anticipate. From my POV this is how all books should be written. … Honestly, any book that puts you or me to sleep after two or three pages is a piece of crap and I don’t give a bleep about its reviews or awards or how many books have sold. In some cases all are valid and well earned. However, sometimes they are not. If you live in LA you would know that we suffer through a film/TV awards season that begins in the early fall and doesn’t end until the last Oscar is presented the following year (next year’s presentation is on 24feb2019). The amount of money spent stuffing “created” contenders down our throats on a daily basis is obscene. You don’t want to hear my views on this for they aren’t printable. It’s a part of the world, … just not my part. Pardon my English, but ass-licking or paying big bucks to win an award is something I refuse to do.

Maps

Until the Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek I had created the maps for my previous books. Believe it or not over the years I improved my skill at creating them.

This map from Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005) was reprinted in Lt. Col. Paul Fardink’s (USA-Ret.) article, “Lieutenant Charles B. Gatewood: Premier Cavalry Soldier of the American West,” in On Point: The Journal of Army History, winter 2014. Paul had interviewed me for the article and had wanted it at the end of his prose. The editor disagreed and moved it into the flow of the text and it worked out fine for Paul and myself. Paul’s article is terrific and I’m proud to be part of it. (map © Louis Kraft 2004)

Two of my maps have been reprinted. The Custer and the Cheyenne (1995) map that illustrated Custer’s attack on Black Kettle’s village on 27nov1868 appeared in Sandy Barnard’s A Hoosier Quaker Goes to War: The Life & Death of Major Joel H. Elliott, 7th Cavalry, 2010). The lone map from Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apace Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005) illustrated Gatewood’s search for Chiricahua Apaches Geronimo (war leader and mystic) and Naiche (the last hereditary chief of the tribe) and the remnants of their people in Sonora, Mexico, in July-August 1886, and then talked them into returning to the United States and surrendering for the last time.

Chuck Rankin wanted me to use a cartographer for the Wynkoop book and this request began my association with Bill Nelson, whom I hired to create the maps from my rough drafts. The entire creation and review process was a total pleasure, and his maps are first class.

Adam had requested rough drafts of the Sand Creek maps, and all was a go with me supplying them to him and Bill Nelson (who I again contracted) by the end of December, which I have since moved out to January 7, 2019. … On 10dec2018 Adam told me, “We are fans of Bill’s work here so look forward to seeing the new ones for this latest book.”

I’m not going to tell you how I’m prepping the new maps, or what’s going to be in them but if all goes well they will include some locations/actions usually not seen on maps.

This was the rough draft that I submitted to Wild West for my feature on the Chiricahua Apache war leader Geronimo (“Geronimo’s Gunfighter Attitude,” October 2015). Not to brag but some of the locations had never before been placed on a map. A lot of work, and although the magazine’s cartographer created the final map from my draft Editor Greg Lalire and WW, both of whom have always been kind to me, paid me for this draft. (map © Louis Kraft 2015)

I have been selecting possible locations and actions for the map drafts as I work my way through what will be my polished draft of the Sand Creek manuscript. I had pitched a third map to deal with the Sand Creek village at the time of the massacre. All of the printed maps that deal with the massacre are incomplete at best and misleading at worse. I’m not going to reprint any of them or create a new map based upon them. There is current information that I am not privy to, and if I cannot learn the details that are available but not shared there will be no Sand Creek village map in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. … Not my choice, but I’m not going to print a map based information that I don’t consider valid. If this becomes reality—and I pray not—there will be no third map unless I have a replacement map that I’m not yet completely sold on (but on the plus side it might dip into Old Mexico).

How can this be Louis? Simple; about 8,000 words deal with the massacre, making it a small piece of my Sand Creek story. Not to worry for the SC massacre section is explosive and graphic. The goal here has always been to grab the readers and not let go (we’ll see if I succeeded when the book is published). Still, I want a map with the most up-to-date information about the Sand Creek village circles if indeed they are known, and I don’t think that they are. If so, they are a well-hidden secret. For the record I know the names of 15 Cheyenne chiefs who were present on that tragic day. I have been told that there were 20 Cheyenne chiefs present with no names or documentary proof that I’ve seen. I would love to have this information and the order of the chiefs’ village circles (if it exists).

Major information that is currently denied LK that must be in the Sand Creek book

I have information from Dee Cordry, who is writing a book that deals with a lot of people I deal with in my manuscript. I’m sorry, but I must remain vague here to protect Dee’s manuscript as well my mine, but what he shared is absolutely mandatory to see print, and Adam Kane totally agrees.

Photo at right shows Southern Cheyenne Chief Harvey Pratt (left) on 30mar2017 near El Reno, Oklahoma, when he was honored by the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes for his service to the tribal community. He is with his friend Dee Cordry, an historian and former police officer, on the day of the ceremony. Eleven chiefs of the Cheyenne Tribal Council of Forty-four were present, as were the tribal governor and lieutenant governor. (Good friend Dee Cordry shared this image with me.)

This information when published by Dee and myself will destroy ongoing errors that have been propagated for decades and often reprinted without citations or ones that are error-riddled at best or created simply to disguise what doesn’t exist/never existed or worse create a lie based upon a writer’s premise (which some writers refuse to change regardless of where their research leads).

An example of lies in the real world

Many years back, but soon after Custer and the Cheyenne was published, a preeminent Little Bighorn/Custer historian called me and said he was writing a review of my Custer/Cheyenne book. He read about a quarter of his review (which, when published was over a page and a half in an 8″ x 11″ publication). Great stuff and I loved his words. He got me to talk about the young Cheyenne woman Mo-nahs-e-tah (phonetic spelling of her name); a major mistake by LK, and for all of you who write books when someone calls and states that he/she is writing a review about your work think carefully about who they are and what their motivation is for calling you. If there is just hint of a scam slam your phone down on the receiver. Do it! If you don’t you may regret what follows. … I did.

A year or so later this historian/cum-reviewer and I both spoke at a symposium in SoCal. I called the host and told him that if the historian attacked me verbally that I would retaliate. The historian kept his mouth shut and we actually enjoyed spending time together and talking.

Two things that need to be said

Ladies and gents, I want to make something absolutely clear right now—people and archives play major roles in all of my published work. I am forever grateful for their contributions.

This photo was taken on Christmas day, 2018. Do I look “snarky”? Perhaps, … or maybe I’m simply “cocky.” (photo © Louis Kraft 2018)

I have pointed out errors in books published over the last 50 years. Some of them are heinous but have been reprinted time and again (and often without any documentation). One of my peer reviewers tore into me big time for pointing out published errors; he even stated that I was “snarky.” Snarky? Maybe he’s correct. I don’t care for I’m sick and tired of seeing old errors repeated ad nauseam. This reviewer rightfully stated that I needed to temper my comments (hopefully I’ve been able to follow his suggestion). At this point in time much of my proof of erroneous documentation has been purged from the manuscript. In its place I have inserted notes that mention the errors without pointing the finger at published works, and simply warning readers to be wary of documents that use the previously published errors.* Hopefully historians and readers who read these words heed them.

* Of course a few instances existed where this was impossible to do. I guess I’m still “snarky.” Sorry.

LK writing and life in his world

I don’t view myself as a liar, for sometimes I need a break from almost continuous seven-day weeks for what seems like forever. The blogs are fun for me, while being time intensive. More important they are research for my nonfiction or that memoir I usually ignore when I talk about my writing projects. If ever I finish the memoir, and it is doable as I have a ton of research in house, I will never see it published. Errol Flynn never saw his final book published (My Wicked, Wicked Ways, Putnam and Sons, 1959), and no one was able to sue him for telling what I believe were truthful words about some of the people he knew well. … Let’s carry the LK memoir one step forward. It is completed and placed with a publisher. At that time I will make certain that we are in sync when it can be published, and that time will be right after I’m dancing with angels. Am I joking or am I serious? Be patient for time will give you an answer.

Throughout our early life together I moved Pailin’s car out of our long driveway so that I could use my car; that is moving her car onto the street, moving my car onto the street, moving her car back onto the driveway, and then walking to my car on the street. She suggested parking her car under a carport that we didn’t use as it had been blocked by a fence I installed about 2009 and a huge orange tree that had died about 2013. A great idea! In December 2015 I removed the steel fence, chopped down the tree, removed its root system, filled in the hole, pounded the earth, before the Vette pressed down the earth. This photo was taken in the late afternoon on December 9 after quitting work. (photo © Louis Kraft 2015)

On 24jun2018 my life took another detour. That Sunday the sole of one of my yard-work moccasins came loose and caught on the small red stones I installed in 2015 for the drive to Pailin’s carport (the Vette lives in the garage), and I took a flying dive forward. There was a pole in front of me—I had to protect the pacemaker—and twisted to my left to avoid a head-on collision or worse, nailing the pacemaker. While knowing that the impact wouldn’t be pretty I had to make a perfect landing. Acting and swashbuckling training provided what I needed to know—that is, how to fall. Still, my flying body was like a biplane crash-landing during WWI. Add deep-deep gashes, huge bruises, and burns along the left side of my body. But it was a good day for my noggin’ didn’t slide along the stones and neither did the pacemaker. Nevertheless I saw my heart specialist pronto. The moccasins were exiled to the black trashcan.

This has been my life for years now, and yet I’m alive. They say that the good die young. If so, what am I? … Evil? Maybe, but I don’t think so. Still, there are some people that will agree with this. For the record there’re not my friends.

I’ve discussed cracked skulls and trips to the emergency room, I’ve detailed the perfect storm that resulted in me continuing walk our earth, and I’m not repeating this here. (If interested see: Louis Kraft perfect storm and the Sand Creek Massacre).

I’m not going to tell about this book, except to say that it is one of the best books I’ve ever written. The reviews have been kind. Unfortunately I’ve not had time to place a page on the website for the book (hopefully in 2019), but when I do I’ll share some of them. A number of the reviews state that it would make a good film or mini-series. This said, beware if you decide to read it for there is extreme violence, as well as sexual intimacy, and a darkness that at times is overwhelming, and would give the story an extreme “R” rating if ever produced as a film (perhaps higher depending upon the script and director). A good friend, Tom Eubanks, read about 30 pages and stopped. He told me he knew where book was going. All I can say is that he was clueless, for the two leading players are on the book cover and he never met the newborn as an adult, and that is where the medical, judicial, intense character-study thriller begins. Begins. … BTW, the title is misleading while being dead on target. (art and book cover design © Louis Kraft 2016)

This said, my time has been questionable ever since I made a habit of cracking the back of my skull open. Other than a partnership on The Discovery with Robert S. Goodman that began at the time I needed to pay for a surgery that I didn’t know about until after the fact (oh yeah LK has gone from someone with wads of cash in his pockets to someone who picks up bottles on the street). This began in 2012 by my choice. At that time I endured a practice that was totally illegal, totally unethical, and yet a manager I saw only three times in my life not only backed the policy he salivated while supporting it. I doubt that I will ever write about it (although it is well documented; perhaps I should add it to my archive in Santa Fe). Alas, today truth in the USA is a dangerous thing to share. Money almost always wins out.

Regardless, I decided to never again write for the software world, and at that time I was pulling in six figures.

For the record, I believe that writers must move between different genres and push themselves to the limit as they explore and improve their craft.

The Discovery was a detour and at the same time the most important one in my writing life

Bob Goodman has been my physician for almost 30 years, and he along with another five specialists keep me living a good physical life. In 2002 Bob saw something that if not fixed would have led to my death in 2003 or perhaps early 2004. I owe him a lot. Add that I like him a lot, and when he approached me to partner with him to write his terrific story idea (folks, his premise was magnificent). More, as it was an historical piece that spanned over 20 years between the early 1950s and the early 1970s with a huge cast of players (read the Sand Creek story for scope and cast list), and I knew that it could give me what I needed for my nonfiction manuscript—learning how to make a story with many people whose actions are all over the place work in a linear progression. At this time the Sand Creek manuscript didn’t flow forward smoothly. Read that it was hackneyed at best; I’m sorry but that wasn’t acceptable.

A work in progress of LK and Bob Goodman (even though it carries a 2017 copyright). He hasn’t seen it yet. I had hoped to complete it this year and give it to him. Nope! Story of my life: A day late and a dollar short. … I will finish this painting hopefully in 2019 for I will be seeing him then. (art © Louis Kraft 2017)

The Discovery gave me what I needed to pull Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a LIfeway together and become reality. Hell, I’ve been a professional writer for decades and I was having trouble. I still had a massive amount of word crafting of facts and time in front of me to make the tragic end of the Cheyenne and Arapahos’ lifeway move forward in an acceptable manner. But now I was in the driver’s seat. God love you, Bob! I cherish our relationship and our partnership.

The other influences on my writing life

Technical writing had been a terrific experience. It is fast, demanding, and the deadlines are deadly. DEADLY. … When I worked in the film world you worked eight hours. After that it was time and a half and then after 10 hours more dollar bills flowed out of a fountain. On feature films I didn’t experience that much overtime but in TV it was a different story. On the last day of a medical TV pilot (read an hour and a half and shot in 15 or 17 days; can’t remember) the limited shoot (my guess at this late date as I didn’t keep the “call sheets,” which gave you a start time each day and what was being filmed that day) was get what was absolutely necessary and discard the un-shot script pages. That last day and night we worked 23 hours. My eyes turned into dollar signs. Often there were previews; I never saw one for this pilot, never saw the pilot on TV, and it never became a TV show. Not the first time or the last time.

Since we’re dealing with film and TV and that other money-maker I hated but did when I needed money—modeling, let’s touch base with the entertainment world in the 1970s and 1980s.

LK art of Bob Ellenstein. His son, David, also an actor and director, saw it in a blog years back, contacted me, and asked if he could have a copy. Of course; I sent him copies set to print as an 8×10″ and various versions for the internet. It was good catching up with him (he was a little boy when I spent a lot of time with Bob and his mother Lois at their home on the Westside of LA). Bob and Lois also had an in-house bookstore, and they were able to get me all of the classic works published on the pirate Francis Drake in the early 1970s including many that were simply primary-source documents. You can bet that both nonfiction and fictional works dealing with Mr. Drake are a comin’. (art © Louis Kraft 2015)

Actually more important is me clarifying what I learned from Bob (Robert) Ellenstein, an actor/director I met in college when he was the professional guest directing professor during my senior year at CSUN. Actually I learned it after graduation when I studied acting with him. This time, beginning in summer 1969 and continuing for a number of years led to a friendship between us that extended long after I stopped studying acting under his guidance. … At one point Bob told the small acting class that I took with him in the early ’70s (between eight and ten people), “Whatever you do, make sure you can live with it.” This was the absolute best advice I have ever received in my life. The absolute best! … And I have lived by it ever since.

This doesn’t mean that I’m a good person; it means that I have never done anything that I could not live with. Put another way, I have never sold my soul or body for money or advancement.

The year 2020 is front and center as long as LK doesn’t mess it up

Although I’ve spent a fair amount of time dealing with writing extra words above I’m totally aware of my contracted word counts. This guarantees that I’ll never place myself in a situation wherein I’m below the word count, need more, but am clueless where to dig for more facts and events simply as a filler as this not a good way to complete a manuscript.

But this isn’t the problem. Actually, it shouldn’t be a problem for when I buy into a project it is for 100 percent. Simply, this means that I’m not just the writer. I have a vision for my print projects, and I do everything possible to insure that the final product is as close to what I originally envisioned. This means that I am present throughout the production process with my input. Sometimes this isn’t appreciated. Too bad. It is my project and my input will happen. What I say, do, or insist upon is not egotistical. Not at all—it is simply to improve what is published.

I originally created this art of Ned Wynkoop for an article of mine (“Ned Wynkoop’s Lonely Walk Between the Races”) in Custer and His Times, Book Five (2008). It has appeared in I think three (perhaps four) additional publications including two (three?) magazines. Originally it was an oval portrait but has also been landscape. This image was last printed in Symphony in the Flint Hills: Field Journal, Volume V (2013), and it provided me with my best payday with this portrait. (art © Louis Kraft 2007)

Often I submit my photos/art for publication. It brings in money (sometimes four or five times when I get lucky and an image is resold). This is good for it helps pay bills. Sometimes my art is used to reduce the cost of the image in university press books wherein I am responsible for assembling all the photos and art for the publication. I negotiate with artists and owners of historical images (often offering a book in exchange for using their art/images). I think that this is fair for I save money, they get a copy of the first edition of the book as well as the publicity.

Regarding using my images in publications, at times I’ve been pinged as some people don’t like writers creating art for their words. Honestly, I don’t understand the reasoning behind this and have refused to respond to these comments.

In the past I have publicized photos and art in consideration for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. The process has been ongoing for years, and I have been negotiating for a good part of this time with artists, private collections, as well as National Historic Sites.

Jerry Greene and Mr. Scott’s book (OU Press, 2004) is one of the better books published dealing with the massacre. The cover is a cropped version of Robert Lindneux’s Sand Creek Massacre art. The painting is landscape, so almost every book cover that features it has been cropped on one or both sides. This isn’t a problem when it is used in magazine articles. Jerry is a good friend whom I enjoy hanging out with whenever opportunity presents itself.

At the moment I am considering pushing two pieces of art for the cover, but I know as 2019 races toward summer that this number will increase. One thing is certain, the cliché art that has appeared on way-too-many Sand Creek books (some of which have nothing to do with the massacre) will not appear on my dust jacket—including Robert Lindneux’s painting (left), which is housed at History Colorado.

Want to read a terrific book dealing with the Cheyenne wars, read Jerry Greene’s Washita: The U.S. Army and the Southern Cheyennes, 1867-1869 (OU Press, 2004). While the book and dust jacket design were in production (I saw a proof of the cover art). Anita Donofrio, who kindly volunteered to do sound and lighting for an over-sold-out Wynkoop one-man show at the former Colorado Historical Society that year invited me to stay with her and her son (a totally delightful young man) the following week while I did research. She was/is a good friend of Jerry’s. I told her that if she invited him to dinner one night I’d cook. My reason: I wanted to meet him, and that evening, which went deep into the night, created a friendship.

Regarding LK’s cooking—don’t snicker. I’m a terrific cook, and have been for decades. … Gents, here’s a tip worth its weight in gold: The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach (and I can prove this).

The here is now, … or is it put up or shut up?

I deliver my polished draft of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway to Adam in two weeks. If this draft passes review—fingers are always crossed—it is all uphill from here. Meaning: LK will have a Cheshire Cat grin on his face until 2020.*

* Lewis Carroll created this cat and its mischievous grin in his book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865).

I participate in all of my projects in every way possible. At times—and this is a major understatement—production teams from art directors to editors and everyone in between would love to lock me in a cell until the book is published. … And I’ve heard the comments (or read them) to know that this is a true statement. They’re professionals, and most of them are very good at what they do.

This Sun Microsystems badge was the only one I ever bothered to grab, and I had no clue at this late date why I did this. In 2005, when the company purchased Seebeyond Technology Corp., they had over 40,000 employees worldwide. by late 2008 that figure had dropped to 24,000 employees. Poor management had doomed the company, whose stock plummeted to obscene levels when in January 2009 69 percent of the former Seebeyond employees then in Monrovia, Calif., were laid off. Often they talk about loyalty in sports or the lack of. Take a quick look at the technical world and you’ll see that they make the sports world look like amateurs when it comes to eliminating personnel.

Alas, so am I, and I have done what they do. I’ve designed books, dust jackets, newsletters (wherein I was the editor and designer), created art, maps, and know that I must pay close attention to what is happening during every step of the production process or things can and might happen that are bad (or worse), and this isn’t on the production team. It’s on me. My name is on the book or article, and that means one thing: If there are errors (anything from a note that is no longer accurate or apropos, inaccurate captions, quoted text blind-edited, whatever) there is only one person to blame—LK. I’ve missed changed captions, notes that no longer deal with what they supposedly confirm, and I cringe when I realize that a quote has been altered. This list is ongoing, including index entries that vanish, even though I thought they were important.

My manuscripts receive two copyedits and they usually take about a month each (but that was back when I wrote for software companies and often had two-plus hours of drive time and overtime almost every day). This is no longer the case. Although the Sand Creek manuscript has a larger word count I think that the copyedits will take only a month each to complete.

LK acceptance of the Wrangler Award for “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” (Wild West, April 2011) at the Western Heritage Awards banquet in Oklahoma City in April 2012. Yeah, Kraft does dress up sometimes. On this evening I was wearing Cheyenne beaded moccasins. For the record, Cheyennes wore low moccasins (unlike the Apaches and the high moccasins shown above). To cover and protect their legs the Cheyennes wore leggings, which are described in detail in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway.

I want to say something here and it is of major importance. … I love my editors and copyeditors. Actually I consider myself one lucky SOB as I have been associated with OU Press and the University of Nebraska Press for they create first-class publications and are the two best Indian wars publishers in the world. In the world!

Unfortunately I think they and their production teams cringe when an LK manuscript arrives on their desks. Folks, I’m a historian, but I’ve also a teller of stories. This means I want character development. This isn’t easy in nonfiction. In the past I’ve had to fight to keep my character development. For example in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (OU Press, 2011), his wife Louise is alone in their hotel room at La Fonda in Santa Fe, New Mexico Territory, when rats enter the room. She steps onto a chair and is still standing on it when Ned enters the room. Of course the rats scattered when he opened the door and he didn’t see them. He chides her, she gets angry and tells him to sit down. He does, and the rats return. Wynkoop leaps onto his chair, yanks out his Colt and begins shooting at the rats. This brings the hotel manager, who quickly moves them to another room. … The scene shows character, but the copyeditor cut it. I reinserted the scene and told her that it stays.

This image of LK was taken on the old Route 66 that sliced through a good portion of the USA back in days long gone. Alas, so are the towns, and some are little more than skeletons of what once was. My bro Glen Williams took this photo in front of a long-abandoned gas station in fall 2011 on the day after he and I delivered an LK archival package to Tomas Jahen (then of the Chávez History Library) and his family in Williams, Az. I really like Glen’s photo as it captured the destruction of a past that will soon vanish if not recorded. Ladies and gents, history will quickly fade into nothing if not recorded—Lost to time. Our grandparents, parents, and children (and that is all the personal history I have) will vanish without a trace if I don’t write about their lives. This is personal, and so is a memoir. (photo © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2011)

Many nonfiction books are stuffed with fact upon fact upon fact stringed together in—please forgive me good nonfiction writers for I’m not talking about you—long sterile sentences and paragraphs that can put me to sleep in two pages. I often must suffer through these, … these, … these, … what are they—Oh yeah, pages! Often they offer nothing that I need but I don’t know that until I read the last page. Wasted time? No, for I must know the answer. To borrow from the long departed TV show (which should have been left in peace) The X Files, “The Truth is Out There,” and I need to know it.

Long answer short. Good times are on the horizon for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is about to move into production (if accepted), a process I love for it is a collaboration of many people working together to make the published book as good as possible. There are many steps, many reviews, many changes, and many suggestions to make the final product of value to those who read it. For me it is a thrilling time.

In closing Global Warming is here to stay

… and it will only get worse if action is not taken during our lifetimes.

It is unbelievable how many nay-sayers there are to this statement. Conspiracy stories abound. I know people who insist that the fires in California and elsewhere in the American West, the hurricanes that assault the East Coast, the Southern Coast, the Caribbean, and Texas, as well as the typhoons in other portions of the world are nothing more that disasters created by the “government.” “The government? Who? Trump?” “No, the government. The Clintons, Obamas, and Bushes.” … Beachfront property in SoCal is losing the war with the Pacific Ocean as the waves increase in velocity and pound the cement barriers that protect these over-priced houses in LA and San Diego Counties. Eventually the sea will destroy them, and the process has already begun.

This image of Pailin and LK doesn’t belong here. This said, I have no images of Climate Control for its future is still unknown. The LK/PSK future is known, and this end of Christmas 2018 photo shows this. We are together and we are one until the end of our time of walking Mother Earth. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2018)

Those that deny the changes of weather conditions, the melting of icepacks, spout vehemently that it is all fake news. Some have even told me that the violence and mass murders across the USA never happened. They claim that it is “government” false news to spread hatred and violence and that these “fictions” are filmed performances using actors. They claim that the reason is to reduce the population and eliminate the middle class. … I agree that the USA is becoming a world of the super rich and the poor (who will soon become homeless—at least in LA, the homeless capital of the USA).

What about the recent report on global warning by the Federal Government? “Fake news!” … Maybe I’m old fashioned, maybe I’m not in line with today’s world, but I have a lot of trouble with slogans—such as Fake News. Don’t believe me see the Los Angeles Times 24nov2018 article “Climate report warns of bleak future”.


Since May and my last blog the following seven months have been a blur.
At times I didn’t know if I was sleeping or awake. I was focused solely on the
Sand Creek manuscript and the health of the ladies in my life. That’s it; that’s all that mattered. I became Rod Taylor as he sped between centuries in H. G. Wells’ novel turned into the classic 1960 film
The Time Machine (which would have blasted the 2002
adaption to kingdom come if it had the special effects capabilities available
during the first decade of the 21st century). Beginning in 2011 I have
been on a joyride without end, a joyride that at times descended
into the depths of Hell, but is not yet complete and won’t be
until 2020 when the book is printed.

There is one LK truism for the upcoming year—There will be more blogs.
The question is when?

All blogs © Louis Kraft 2013–2020