January twenty first, nineteen seventy nine, the Portland Oregonian. An early morning
explosion gutted the Steinfeld Pickle factory Friday morning in the Saint John's neighborhood of Portland.
The cause of the explosion is unknown as of release. The Steinfeld pickling
plant has been in operation in at Saint John's location since nineteen twenty two.
There were no reported injuries or fatalities. However, the factory will be closed
until further notice, impacting approximately one hundred and twenty local factory workers. The
Steinfeld family declined to comment on the cause of the explosion or their immediate plans
for the Steinfeld Pickle Company and the job security of its local employees. Kids
these days just don't appreciate the sacrifices their parents have made for them. In
our day, you respected your elders, especially your parents. I just don't
understand what's happening to the world. I agree. My daughter blames me for
everything wrong in her life. She says, I'm selfish. Can you imagine?
She says she shouldn't have had to take care of her younger sister when
I was in jail. Well, someone had to, and I was in
jail. She got to live it up in the big city. While she
was doing that, I was sleeping on a cot and peeing on a cold
toilet for all the world to see, and eating just the absolute worst slop.
It should be a crime to feed anyone that shit. Today is the
best day of the year because today is my birthday. This birthday is an
important birthday because Rob ruined my last birthday. It's a long story, really,
but I did not get to do what I do every year on my
birthday, which is sing birthday karaoke. Rob got us kicked out of the
karaoke bar we had my party at last year. He got way too drunk
and threw his microphone through the karaoke TV screen. It was an accident,
but they kicked us out anyway. Well, this year we are going to
Die's Karaoke Bar, which is my favorite karaoke bar. We go there all
the time now since we aren't allowed at the other karaoke bar anymore. And
this year I am going to sing sing sing sing sing sing sing until I
can't sing sing sing sing anymore, or until Rob gets too drunk and we
have to leave. Birthdays are the best and mine is the very best because
it's mine. Happy birthday to me, and I'm all alone. There is
no one here, the sun, the problem out, there's no one here
to do. But you got have friend feeling so so strong, got to
have just make that day less not had some friends about there who's gone,
some came and took get away and from the dust of the dawn. Here
is where alday. Hello, Hi, Hi. So I actually, since
this is probably going to be our last call of the s nature unless something
crazy happens in the next few weeks, I have poured a glass of wine
to honor and commemorate it. Ah, So here is what I have As
we go into our last few episodes. First and four or most, I
got an email from the handwriting lady, and well, what do you think
the results are? I'm curious to know. Well, well, I think
she's that. I honestly, looking at the handwriting, there's at least there's
two different people at least who wrote that stuff, because there's some letters that
I think could be one person disguising their hand, but there's enough differences,
and I think either Karen probably Ellen's is different enough that anyway, I don't
think they're authentically three different people. That's my guess. Okay, well,
thank god we did this for free, because that was pretty much the result
which my guess as well, which was that more than likely Ellen's letters were
written by a unique person. There were enough similarities in Marx and Karen's letters
that while they could not definitively state that it was one person, they could
say, within reason, one person probably produced both Karen's and marx letters.
Gotcha. I love being right, which I mean, I feel like at
this point, and maybe when we sent that out in June or July whenever
that was, if we had gotten the results back then, that would have
been shocking. But now I feel like it's been pretty well established that at
whatever truth lies at the basis of all this, the letters were reproduced.
Regardless. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I mean just the fact that he
has all of the letters that he sent out, which I don't know.
You can make a photocopy of it, and I don't know. It's weird.
Yeah. And well and also just like regardless, and we'll talk about
that in a minute, of whether it's Aloha Karen or crochet Pants Karen,
either and or both plus fish Ellen are and Obviously we don't know who they
were thirty years ago, but I strongly doubt that all of the capers included
in the letters they could be capable of. I think, like it would
take a uniquely stupid person to write some of those letters. And I don't
think, yeah, any of our women are that stupid. No, I
don't think so either. And it's too it's too funny, it's too stupid
to be completely authentic. Yeah, And I think, much like is the
case with anything recreated for movies or fiction or whatever, is like they had
a delightfully funny and unique situation. In order to repackage successfully, they had
to make funnier and more unique. So I think that, like, again,
this is based in reality, and I think we can pretty conclusively say
that, but I think absolutely like a lot of it was embellished. Yeah,
I mean, there's so many things about fish Ellen that ring true for
Ellen, love letter Ellen, and the same with crochet Pants Karen, that
like aspects of their personality, just like that's gotta be based on them.
Although if you think about it, this was Berkeley, think about that from
it's Berkeley, California. Finding somebody like Ellen who's into spirit houses and things
like that. Wouldn't you know in the eighties, it's a dime a dozen.
Yeah, and then I also finally heard back from Darren. I don't
think I told you this, strangely, which I think could lead to lots
of conspiracy theories. Darren and I have both lived in every city the girls
have lived in, except except for Arizona. So we I met him in
San Francisco, mm hmm, we lost touch. I moved to Portland.
I ran into him there, he had been living there. We lost touch.
I moved to Seattle. I ran into to him there. He had
been living there. So like, we have all all lived in the same
cities, which is strange crazy. Yeah, So you're saying that you and
Darren are Karen and Allen exactly exactly the cats out of the bag. So
I've been thinking about this a lot, and I'm not really comfortable reaching out
to I was going through the letters again over the weekend and laughing my ass
off. But now that I know she is Ellen, right, Like,
there's no way she's not Ellen anyway. Now that I know she's Allen,
the letters take on a whole new meaning for me. It's so funny because
Ellen has influenced my opinion of way more than has influenced my opinion of Ellen.
And that's what made me realize I don't know this girl well enough to
casually bring up her past or reveal all these things I've read about her and
known about her for over a decade. But I did remember a few funny,
slash weird slash interesting things to tell you. We talked about living in
the Bay Area and how different it is now. Specifically, we debated which
city was better, Oakland or San Francisco, and she did mention that she
was going to school for interior decorating when she lived there. She dropped out
because she felt the program was creatively oppressive and stifled her unique point of view
or something like that. She talks about cats a lot. When I told
her I was more of a dog person, she straight up looked at me
like I had to murder. She does not like her family like at all.
She kept saying her family of friends was the only family that mattered to
her. And then as the weekend progressed, she kept welcoming me to the
family and I was like, thanks, but no thanks, lady, And
actually she came to your Twin Peaks party. Small world, right, anyway,
if I remember anything else, I'll let you know. And then the
weirdest thing is and just another We live in a small, small world.
You know how I used to throw Oh I don't know if you know this.
I threw these big Twin Peaks parties two years in a row. Yes,
yeah, I was Facebook invited. Yes, well, apparently she came
to one of those. No, yeah, and so I with all the
pictures and I couldn't see her. But you know, all the pictures I
have because we didn't hire a professional photographer, which is pictures my friends and
I took. But apparently she was there. That is he crazy? Yeah,
So that's what Darren, that's twice meeting her. With that said,
I guess what I would love to know is your overall theory on how these
letters came to be and who these people are. I think, well,
I think Mark is a writer. He's a writer, and he created a
project based on probably real life letters that he received from tenants and people that
he's characters that he's worked with over the years, largely based on the people
we found in my opinion, but it's probably just a huge amalgamation of a
lot of people, because you know, when you're fictionalized something, you take
examples from your life, So that I think that's what he did. I'm
not sure Karen and Ellen never actually lived together. So I do have the
answer to that if you would like, no, nothing, Yeah, sure,
why not tell me? So a few weeks ago, when our revelations
about Helen I started coming forward, I had a little theory that I didn't
really float to anyone, which is, we know Helen I was arrested in
the eighties. We know that the dad was not in the picture. We
know that fish Ellen was on the lease, her sister was not, her
sister was a minor when the letters took place, and we know immediately after
fish Ellen moved out, she moved in with Aloha Rob in Seattle, right,
So the theory that I kind of floated is that Helena went to jail,
there was no one to look after Aloha Karen, so she moved in
with her sister in the apartment, which is where she met Rob. After
they left, they all moved to Seattle to live together. So Rob was
dating a minor. Are they the same age? I think he's a couple
of years older than her, So so only he's nineteen. Yeah. I
don't think that's creepy. Okay, Yeah, it's not that creepy. Especially
she's on her own too. Yeah. And so that kind of goes back
to well first and foremost. Then Cricket Pants I think did originally live there
with she was. I mean, we literally know that she was living there
around the time of the letters. Yeah, exactly, So if that was
okay, keep going. Okay, so let's look at the letters and know
that some of it is true is not. Here is what we know for
a fact, Karen Letters Karen moves in before Ellen I had a year later,
Letters Karen moves out, Letters Ellen stays. So we know Pants moved
in around nineteen eighty seven. We know Letters Ellen moved in shortly thereafter.
Also in nineteen eighty seven. We know Aloha Karen was seventeen and nineteen eighty
eight. So let's say, oh, chrischet Pants does move out in eighty
eight because Aloha Karen is moving in. Okay, that would make sense.
You don't want to have that many people in a tiny cottage. Yeah,
And so then rather than exploiting this terrible situation, that's happening. He just
turns Aloha Karen to the same person as cruschet Pants Karen, and so here's
and then yeah, and then and then the detail about them growing up together
comes from Aloha Karen exactly. Because if you take the facts from both crochet
Pants Karen and Aloha Karen's lives and relationships with Ellen and merge them in the
one person, it makes the letters make sense. Yeah, it does.
And then here's the other thing I found. Okay, I know you had
been emailing the Oakland Library lady, right, So I followed up with her
once we found out all the real names, and Okay, I because I
just think it's so suspiciously strange that they don't have anyone's names in any of
the years that are relevant to us except for eighty seven. Yeah, that's
weird. And so I just was like, hey, can you just do
like a look a search for Aloha Karen and Fishellin's names. That'd be great.
Email. Can you look for oops? Okay, we owe her whatever
we can, which I think at this point is just like a pat on
the back, but she couldn't link them to the cottage, but which she
did find Dear Sarah and Josh. After receiving your last email, I did
a little more digging and did a system wide address look up on the address,
along with the additional names you provided. I was unable to get any
hits on Miss. However, I did find court records for a contested parking
ticket on the thirty eight hundred block of in Oakland, which, according to
Google Maps is adjacent to the address you provided in your original email. The
ticket was being contested by Miss on July twenty first, nineteen eighty eight.
I hope this helps with your project. Best regards, Reference staff, Oakland
Public Library in nineteen eighty eight. I forget the month Oloha Karen contesting a
parking ticket mm hmm for her car being illegally street parked across the street from
the cottage. Oh my god, that's crazy. So we have her at
least at the minimum of visiting there. Yeah, but where her sister lived?
Yes, crazy, So I didn't you know. I've been wondering for
a long time. Official and crochet Pants were roommates, because it makes sense
why only one person would be on the fun records. Yeah too, And
even in her blouse she mentioned that she had her roommate in that apartment.
I've fallen into the most wonderful while of comfort and fulfillment. Recently, we're
marking the year anniversary of Dad's death, and there's something magical about the year
long grieving loop. I feel that we've run a complete circle. Although I
would argue that this year has been nightmarish at times, global events, national
news, and even some local drama to harden one's heart, I seem somehow
to have staked my claim at longevity on this planet. Somewhere along the way.
I put my umbrella in the sand and said, these are the things
I like to do. These are the things that I have to do.
These are the long term projects that I'm going to sustain in an effort to
stave off the cosmic loneliness of inhabiting a doomed planet. I've also naturally found
tremendous life giving strength, first in my kids, but also in my wonderful
spouse and community near and far of friends and family, and in the sea
of memories that death never fails to gift us so a well of comfort.
And now I hold in my hand a book that I've been anxious to read.
It's about the secret conversations of Ava Gardner and author Peter Evans. Ava,
ever iconic, beautiful, witty, and tragic, leads us through a
riveting tale of her life, her loves, her, Hollywood, and more.
But here I find myself, on this perfect day, on my porch
with a light just right. And as I read her story, my own
father jumps into my head. For instance, when I read the following passage,
I might have worn hand me down frocks and had dirty knees. Maybe
I didn't always scrub them as often as polite little girls should. But we
were never dirt poor. I was the goddamnedest town boy you ever met.
In the summer time, I went barefoot, and that was what farm kids
did. Of course, we were poor. It was the Great Depression.
Everybody was poor. It cost you just to create. But being hard up
didn't make us dirt poor, Ava Gardner. And here I am, with
my own dirty knees. I am not a polite little girl either. We
are taught to be polite because it quiets us and packages us, it limits
us. I sit here, barefoot myself, thankful for my father, thankful
that polite was not a word we used in our house, thankful we were
taught to dirty our knees. And that's the rub, right, The rub
of loss is that, despite my many attempts to cherish time with Dad,
in the end honor his memory by thinking of all we had shared, reflect
on the many times together, we can never have those reckless nights at the
dinner table back. There's no going back. So many lost stories. But
that's another of my lifelong passions. Tell stories, Listen to stories, read
stories. Our history made us. History is our greatest gift. I was
in Berkeley last month visiting my old friend, Miss doctor Cathy, and boy
did we tell some stories. The best stories to tell are the ones you've
told a thousand times before, how they change a little each time with both
the waning of memory and the wisdom of time. Kathy and I were next
door neighbors for a while. We spent many nights in our shared yard talking
about what it means to be a strong woman. This was way back when
Miss doctor Cathy was merely misinterned. Cathy and I was still figuring out my
lot in life. Dirty knees and all our time as neighbors was brief and
ended suddenly when my roommate had a family crisis. Now, that was a
woman who, when I think of strong women, always comes to mind.
She was a woman who, even at twenty, had mastered the delicate balance
of being both soft and strong, being both sweet and sassy, being both
curious and convicted. And even though she and I have not remained in touch,
miss doctor Cathy and I have continued our friendship through all these decades and
wrinkles and being the most ruckous and loud women in any room. Dad,
you did good, so so good? So wow. Okay, so we
have a care and like our two of our proposed Karen and Ellen's actually lived
together to not done? Misstery solved? Yeah right, Why doesn't it feel
done? I mean so basically, what I think is the truth is like
fifty percent fact and fifty percent conjecture based on fact. So who knows?
And I think unless like we actually had the balls to like contact these people,
we will never know. But I am satisfied with that hypothesis. Yeah
me too, because I mean, there's there's these details don't line up.
We don't Even if we did find the people that this was based on and
talk to them, they're gonna be like well, that's not true, and
that's not true, and that's not true. But the character of them is
what has been grossly exaggerated in these letters. Yeah, Dear Bonnie. Enclosed
is a letter from C. Wright. It is not a pleasant letter.
I cannot say that I appreciate the language or name calling. I have never
in my life been called a buffoon, and his insistence on repeatedly referring to
me as one is insulting and hurtful. Perhaps this is all for the best.
Quite frankly, I am tired of fighting this battle. Mark. Dear
Mark, I am writing to express my profound disappointment in you as both a
colleague and a person. Your conduct has trivialized and nullified my efforts and the
efforts and resources of all involved in this production, which may I remind you
you initiated. Not only have you repeatedly failed to disclose relevant information regards this
project and its subjects, you seem to have exploited our financing of and support
for this project in order to carry on some personal vendetta and other buffoonery.
Your actions have, continually, despite multiple warnings from myself and others involved,
jeopardize this film and could have led to costly litigation and degradation of the reputations
of all involved. Quite frankly, your stupidity has been exhausting and reminiscent of
the quote unquote characters in your screenplay. At this point, I have no
other option but to pull all funding from this project. It is my recommendation
you disregard any Hollywood dreams you may have and stick to whatever it is you
do with your clear abundance of time up there. Sincerely, Christopher Wallace,
CW Media Group. Dear David, please see the enclosed letter to Mark.
I am pulling all funding for the film as of the date of this letter.
Whether you choose to seek funding elsewhere is entirely up to you. I,
however, would recommend you move on from this project that is short to
be a legal and production nightmare. Your talents are better suited on actual fiction
written by actual writers. Sincerely, Chris Helena. I have terrible news.
I woke up in the middle of the night last night to a loud bang.
At first I thought someone was trying to get me. I grabbed my
gun and everything. It was so much worse than that, though, my
portrait of Misty fell off the wall. It landed on my mister Jeeves the
butler standing tray, and mister Jesus head tore a giant hole right through the
middle of Misty. I called Jackie right away, and we're going to Sedona
first thing tomorrow. This is just the worst thing. I'm deleting Facebook.
Everyone, Well, I can't figure out how to delete the damn thing,
So I'm just I'm not going to log into Facebook anymore. This thing is
so stupid and such a waste of time. Just don't post things on my
wall anymore because I won't see them, because I won't be on here anymore.
There are better things to do with our time than to be on this
stupid internet page. Cheap plane tickets to Seattle. Cheap plane tickets to Seattle?
Can someone delete that from my Facebook and tell me where I'm supposed to
go for cheap airline tickets? Jesus? I hate the Internet. And then
I was tasked with, well, how do we end this? Yeah,
okay, what's the finale? Josh? Well, so I don't know,
but I kind of wanted to run an idea past you. This morning,
I woke up really really early, and I drove down to the beach and
I got a coffee. I love coffee. ConA coffee is the best.
ConA coffee is from Hawaii, and I swear it tastes just like Hawaii smells,
probably because it grows right here in Hawaii, the beans. That is.
Well anyway, for the first time in a long time, I watched
the sunrise, and even though it was so beautiful, all I could think
about was how when I was just a teenager, my sister and I would
drive from Oakland all the way to the beach in San Francisco and watch the
sunset. We tried to watch the sunrise there one time, but you can't
really watch the sunrise at the beach in San Francisco because the sunrise is behind
you there. Well, I just thought it was a nice memory, just
me and my sister before Hawaii and rob and being a grown up, just
watching the sunset over the same ocean I watch the sunrise over today. Sometimes
Hawaii feels so far away from everything. I'm ted. Shoot, watch m
AND's far across your lap, then the dog work of peace across your face.
Knock down the hall Bible press to your chest. It's a sort of
devil ds and everything in the room wants the only safe haven life. She
watched the scroll through window rains something in the nas man of something in the
mess in my way. You held my hand while the wind a mess her
lodgers and into something, something, something inside what it means something, A
man of something in the meadow side in the waymarks you step from the past.
Only Va can see see the swings. All they say, your hand
wrote wind out the window of the train, slapped down their seats with thirtys
curled bis. I don't e should that great gulp down my fireway