The author...

"Only a criminal mind can escape mass mind"

Frank Sr. served seven years, 1955 to 1962, at Statesville Penitentiary, Joliet, IL. His prison number was 39257. Frank cracked safes for the Chinatown mob, and he specialized in brewery burglaries. In those days, the 1950's, the breweries dealt primarily in cash. So robbing them was sort of a cash-cow bonanza. When he wasn't cracking safes, he was either at the race track, drinking at bars or chasing women. He was peculiar because he believed that the only way to escape mass mind, then called the herd mentality, was in occupations outside of the law. I believe that the French New Wave guys were once big on this idea. Today, globalization has arrived. Its mantra is that we are all connected, that we all share certain traits and values or should at least try to. Eastern philosophies have always instructed much the same thing. With apprehension and fear, I suspect that this is true. However, it is a truth that would sicken men like my father. Personally, I agree. I think it better to be dead than to be locked into mass mind. What kind of a life is that. And today, if it's not mass mind, it's pacified mind.

I ask you, what's the difference?

At the opening of The Great Gatsby the guy tells his son that before he condemns, criticizes and abuses, he should remember that most people have not had the opportunities that he has had. I perfectly understand this. I was actually raised in a Chinatown, with real life gangsters in a welfare household. So I must always remind myself that most people have not had the opportunities that I have had to experience a life in technicolor. At worst, this sort of thing can warp your mind. At best, you develop excellent vision, a view of the world from the outside. The Chinatown that I grew up in was also an Italian neighborhood. Because of this, one of my favorite movies has always been Ghost Dog by Jim Jarmusch. The gangsters in the movie hang out in a Chinese restaurant, proving that some movies can mirror reality. The prediction in the neighborhood was that I would not live to see my 21st birthday.

Obviously, they were wrong.

Although I never completed grammar school, I was educated at the Boy's Reformatory at Saint Charles, IL, and at the University of IL at Chicago. Thankfully, I stopped short of high crime. And thankfully, I came of age at the tail end of the great liberal tradition, that is, before liberalism turned into a set of dogmas, otherwise my education would not have been possible.

I had a semester of Law at DePaul University in Chicago. I quit because it depressed me. Does this prove that I'm an honest man? However, I continued my graduate studies at THE WHISKEY CAFÉ, a shot and beer joint on the southwest side of Chicago. In this bar, I brought my English major background into life. I started a theater group, The Brighton Park Stage Group.

I adapted John Milton and Robert Browning for the stage, an eight by ten plywood structure with tin-can lights. The actors and actresses in these performances were my DRINKING-CLASS customers, except for the waitress from the Huck Finn donut shop.

Today, this lack of articulation would be a turn-off for most people. Times change and mentally we are all sadly sophisticated, so we think. At this same time, I also joined a literary journal, Strong Coffee. I was a contributor for almost nine years. We held weekly meetings at various Chicago coffee houses. In short, my graduate work was an internship in life. Admittedly, I'm dating myself. Thus, I perpetually write "The Song of Jack Shit." All of this takes me up to the 21st century. After this, I spent much of my time in visual art exile, showing collage work in small time galleries and small time bars and coffee houses. Writing is hard work, like being in a relationship. Whereas, visual art is easy, like masturbation. So if it's a hideout your after, go visual.

It works for me.