Blog posts about the Rabbi Aviva Cohen Mysteries and their author Rabbi Ilene Schneider

NEWLY AVAILABLE ON AMAZON

Two publications, both from Adams Media, the publisher of TALK DIRTY YIDDISH, which you, my faithful fans (you know who you are) may find of interest:

1.THE AFTERLIFE SURVEY: A RABBI, A CEO, A DOG WALKER, AND OTHERS ON THE UNIVERSAL QUESTION – “WHAT COMES NEXT?” by Maureen Milliken (http://tinyurl.com/kuodham).

I’m the “rabbi” of the title. The author had interviewed me, and I had forgotten about the book until I was checking my name on Amazon. I downloaded the book onto my Kindle and searched for my name. Fortunately, I didn’t make an idiot of myself.

2.TALK DIRTY AROUND THE WORLD 2014 DAILY CALENDAR: 365 DAYS OF CURSES, SLANG WORDS, AND STREET LINGO YOU NEED TO GET AROUND THE WORLD by Alexis Munier, Emmanuel Tichelli, Ilene Schneider, Karin Eberhardt, Laura Martinez. (http://tinyurl.com/jwmrdcb)

Based, I’m guessing, on the TALK DIRTY (in French, German, Italian, Spanish – and, of course, Yiddish) series. I’m listed as a co-author, but knew nothing about this boxed daily calendar until I saw it listed on Amazon.

WHERE TO FIND ME

Here are my appearances and conferences until the end of 2013. (And, yes, for those of you in CA, I have already registered for the 2014 Left Coast Crime and 2014 Bouchercon.)
 
AUGUST 18, 11:00 AM-2:00 PM: Paperback Exchange, 703 ½ 9th Ave., BELMAR, NJ – Book Sale and Signing
 
AUGUST 22-25:  Killer Nashville (Aug. 23-25), NASHVILLE, TN –– panels: Fri., Aug. 23, 10:10 AM-11:40 AM, “Hardboiled Heroines and Feisty Female Sleuths/Strong Female Protagonists;” Sat., Aug. 24, 11:20 AM-12:20 AM, “Fiction on the Fringes: Writing about Other Cultures, Closed Societies and Countercultures.”  
 
SEPTEMBER 10, 7:00 PM: Wall Township Library, 2700 Allaire Rd., WALL TOWNSHIP, NJ – Panel discussion sponsored by New Jersey Authors Network
 
SEPTEMBER 22, 11:00 AM-2:00 PM: Congregation Ahavat Olam Sisterhood Sukkot Brunch, 106 Windeler Rd., HOWELL, NJ – talk on “What Makes a Jewish Book Jewish?”
 
OCTOBER 10, 6:30 PM: Ohav Shalom Sisterhood Paid-Up Membership Dinner, 944 Second St. Pike, RICHBORO, PA – book reading and signing
 
OCTOBER 24-28:  Magna Cum Murder (Oct. 25-27), INDIANAPOLIS, IN
 
NOVEMBER 8-11:  New England Crime Bake (Nov. 9-10), DEDHAM, MA
 
NOVEMBER 10, 2:00 PM (tentative): Ahavat Torah Sisterhood, 1179 Central Street, STOUGHTON, MA – book reading and signing
 
DECEMBER 12, 5:00 PM-7:00 PM: A Novel Idea, Chapter Two, Landis Marketplace, 631 E. Landis Ave., VINELAND – book sale and signing
 
 

Michelle Perin, Chairperson of the Public Safety Writers Association Writing Contest, which awarded 1st place to UNLEAVENED DEAD, emailed me her comments. I have her permission to plaster them all over the ether.

“Judge’s Comments:
What a wonderful story. Although I didn’t know many of the words and the customs weaved into this novel, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by learning them. I felt pulled into a whole new world. The plot was interesting and the characters unique. I liked this story from the beginning to the end.”

Thank you, Michelle. Your check is in the mail. (Joke! Really! It’s a joke! I don’t mess with someone who spent Saturday running for 2 miles, doing yoga, then powerwalking for 2 miles; and then on Sunday ran for 4 miles and then went to the gym and did an arm workout. Whatever that means. I don’t think she was referring to lifting spoonsful of ice cream from a gallon container to her mouth.)

My thanks to Lelia Taylor for inviting me to post a blog on her Buried under Books site. It’s about Amazon rankings and reading book series in order. Trust me: the topics do intersect.

About Those Amazon Rankings

I am pleased today to host new author Kristen Elise, who has given us a description of her book THE VESUVIUS ISOTOPE, along with an excerpt and comments on the excerpt.

Kristen EliseKristen Elise, Ph.D. is a drug discovery biologist and the author of The Vesuvius Isotope. She lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, stepson, and three canine children. Please visit her websites at http://www.kristenelisephd.com and http://www.murderlab.com. The Vesuvius Isotope is available in both print (www.kristenelisephd.com and http://www.amazon.com) and e-book formats (www.amazon.com for Kindle, http://www.barnesandnoble.com for Nook, http://www.kobo.com for Kobo reader.)

Back cover copy for The Vesuvius Isotope:
Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00011]
When her Nobel laureate husband is murdered, biologist Katrina Stone can no longer ignore the secrecy that increasingly pervaded his behavior in recent weeks. Her search for answers leads to a two-thousand-year-old medical mystery and the esoteric life of one of history’s most enigmatic women. Following the trail forged by her late husband, Katrina must separate truth from legend as she chases medicine from ancient Italy and Egypt to a clandestine modern-day war. Her quest will reveal a legacy of greed and murder and resurrect an ancient plague, introducing it into the twenty-first century.

See Naples and Die
Excerpts from The Vesuvius Isotope

There was a horn and a screeching of brakes. I felt the rush of wind upon my face as a metal blur obscured my vision. I leapt back and turned my head just as a speeding car rocketed away, its driver apparently oblivious. I wondered if I had accidentally stepped into the street, but a quick look down confirmed that I was still standing on the sidewalk. And then I was almost run over again.

This time, an entire family on a moped sped by within inches of my face. A man jerked the handlebars left and right as if boxing. Behind him sat a girl of three or four, not bothering to clutch his waist. A woman straddling the rear of the bike squeezed the girl into place while curling a bag of groceries in one arm and an infant in the other like two footballs.

They scooted deftly over the sidewalk to avoid a slow-moving car, not seeming to mind that they had almost collided with a pedestrian instead. The little girl smiled at me as they passed, perfectly comfortable in her element and apparently unaware that this mode of travel could be dangerous or considered the least bit odd by anyone.

After they were gone, I retreated into the shadows of the museum, away from the edge of the sidewalk, and watched the traffic zipping past me. I breathed deeply and, after a few moments, found that I could think again.


I stepped back to the sidewalk’s edge and hailed a taxi.

The taxi raced down a main street, weaving in and out of traffic that had no apparent legal regulation. There were very few road signs, and the traffic signals seemed only to flash yellow. I could not identify a correct side of the road or a speed limit. The sidewalk was open terrain for motor vehicles as well as for pedestrians. I quickly realized that renting a car was not going to be an option.


The streets doubled as supermarket aisles. Like islands in the center of a fast-moving river stood rows of vendors’ tents peddling food, jewelry, handbags, and countless other goods, while the heavy automobile traffic swirled around them. Hurried pedestrians zigzagged back and forth across the traffic like ants, jumping from sidewalk to vendor’s tent and then biblically parting on cue to accommodate a racing Smart car. Or a bus. Or a moped containing four passengers.

Author commentary:

The Vesuvius Isotope visits several colorful locations in the Naples region, and the character of the city plays multiple roles in the novel. The chaos of Naples is legendary and perhaps best summed up in the famous anonymous quote, “See Naples and die.” The expression has a double meaning. The first is that the visitor to Naples can happily cross the last item from his or her bucket list, revel in the city’s beauty, and die happily. The second is a bit more literal.

My first introduction to Naples took place almost exactly as described in the scenes above, complete with entire families on mopeds and supermarket aisles in the center of the street. A few of my unique adventures there, including a brief and mostly-harmless arrest by the transit police, have also made their way in one form or another into the novel.

Despite, or perhaps because of, its chaos, Naples is one of my favorite cities in Italy.

FIRST PLACE AWARD

UNLEAVENED DEAD just won FIRST PLACE in the Public Safety Writers Association Writing Competition for “Fiction Book Published.”

I managed to restrain myself and not tearfully gush, “You like me, you really like me.” But I did comment to the chair of the Awards Committee, “The bribe worked.”

Here I am with the award certificate. With me are Billie Johnson, publisher, and Sunny Frazier, acquisitions editor, of Oak Tree Press.

Billie Johnson and Sunny Frazier of Oak Tree Press

Billie Johnson and Sunny Frazier of Oak Tree Press

I decided to take the easy way out. Instead of writing a new blog entry, I would just cut-and-paste a few random status updates from my Facebook page. Of course, culling through all the posts (and I didn’t bother with comments I’ve made about others’ messages) took far more time than it would have to compose a new entry.

I know that not everyone who reads my blog is a Facebook friend, so these may be new to some of you. I have to admit, though, I was surprised at just how few there were, especially considering all the time I waste … I mean, spend … on FB.

Random thought of the day: If we don’t accept “God told me to do it” as a defense in a criminal case (unless the plea is insanity) or for acts of terrorism, why do we (well, some people anyway) accept it as a valid reason to run for political office?

Puzzle of the day: why is marijuana a controlled substance when there is a far more addictive product sold openly on the streets by roving bands of preteens? I refer, of course, to Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies.

Pet peeve of the day: the phrases “Jewish synagogue” and “Jewish rabbi.” Are there any other kinds?

Thoreau: “Beware all enterprises that require new clothes.” Schneider: “Beware all events that require panty hose.”

There are 2 things in a description of a movie that will guarantee I won’t see it: vampires & zombies. 3 things: vampires, zombies, ghosts. Make it 4: horror. Ok, 5: graphic violence. Unless, of course, the words “Star Trek” or “Star Wars” are in the title. [In the comments that followed, I noted “Of course, always exceptions: I loved ‘Topper’ (both the original movie & classic TV series). Add ‘comedy’ or ‘humor’ or ‘parody’ to any of my dislikes, and I may reconsider. And I’m addicted to ‘Game of Thrones’ (books & TV series) despite its containing just about every genre I’m not a fan of.”]

I am so tired of being parked between two SUVs in a busy parking lot, and not being able to back out because I can’t see around them to look for approaching cars. If I ever own a store or mall – highly unlikely -I will have a section designated for oversized vehicles. Violators will be sentenced to six months of driving a Mini-Cooper.

Saw “The Big Year.” Am now inspired to lose 50 lbs., go to a gym, get both arthritic knees replaced, find a way to cure my spinal stenosis, conquer my fear of heights, learn to tolerate extremes of heat and cold, & find an extra $50,000. Think I’ll go to Cape May instead.

images[11]Kristin Battestella (http://jsnouff.com/kristin/), who is young enough to be my daughter (or am I old enough to be her mother?) writes erotic vampire horror romances. That’s four out of four genres I don’t write or read. She plays ice hockey. I hate all sports, participatory and spectator, and am allergic to any form of physical activity, except bird watching, which I can do from the car or a window. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her dressed in any color except black; if I wear black, it’s as background for something colorful. Halloween is her favorite holiday; mine is any one when I can sleep late and not have to cook.

imagesCAG69HSHMaryAnn Diorio, who is much closer to my age than Kristin, but is a grandmother, has a Ph.D. in French and Comparative Literature, and has taught Italian. I’m lucky I’m fluent in English. According to her website (www.maryanndiorio.com), in 1979, she accepted the call of God on her life to become a writer. Since then she has written extensively, and much of it could be classified as Christian inspirational. I write humorous Jewish mysteries and non-fiction. She has a D. Min. in Christian Counseling. My earned doctorate is in education, although I do have an honorary D.D. from the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, along with all my classmates on the 25th anniversary of our ordination. She is a life coach. I could use one.

So why do the three of us meet on a regular basis for lunch? Lunches, by the way, that last 2-4 hours.

I have no idea what we talk about for that long. But talk we do. And talk. We are the most unlikely of friends, but I do consider them friends. Obviously, we must have something in common, besides being published writers, especially as writing is one of the things we seldom discuss. (Outside, that is, of the obligatory “How’s the writing going?” question.)

We met originally online. We’re members of the NJ Writers Network, an informal group that offers free panel discussions to libraries and other groups that will allow us, in turn, sell our books and give us some PR.
Living as we all do in South Jersey, wedged between New York and Philadelphia, we were tired of all the writers’ events that are skewed more toward the Central and North Jersey/NY metro area. So Kristin began a group called the South Jersey Women Authors. We are more of a support group than one that presents programs – although sometimes, the NJAN panels may be all women – and we try to share events and other marketing opportunities with each other.

For some reason, Kristin, MaryAnn, and I were the only three who seemed to be available to meet for lunch in the general Cherry Hill area. One time, when we tried something different, Kristin and I were the only two who showed up for dinner in Deptford, although we had a larger showing on a different evening date in the same area. There’s a group that gets together in Vineland, but it’s usually on a Friday too close to Shabbat for me to get there. And a Monday AM breakfast group in Deptford, but I need to be at my day job then.

It was fortuitous that Kristin, MaryAnn, and I met. I can’t imagine any circumstances other than our being writers that would have led to our friendship. But, as I said before, our talks together range far wider – and deeper – than writing. Religious and philosophical beliefs, family, genealogy, personal health issues, nothing is off the table (except the food, as our server hovers nearby and clears off the empty dishes).

If I had to come up with one reason for our improbable friendship, it would be respect. We may have different backgrounds and life experiences and belief systems, but it doesn’t matter. We value each other’s opinions. We may disagree, but we allow each of us to have her views. We don’t argue or proselytize; we discuss. And we laugh. What else can we want from friends?

NEW GUEST BLOG

For all of you who are fans of my meringue cookies, you can read about my hints for getting them right every time. Well, usually. My thanks to Lois Winston, author of the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries, for inviting me to post on her blog site: http://www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com/2013/04/cooking-with-cloris-author-ilene.html?m=1

A caveat: I’m not an historian. My eyes tend to glaze over when I come to lists of unfamiliar names, places, dates. Everything I know about Jewish cowboys, I learned from “The Frisco Kid”: that there weren’t any.

Of course, there were. After all, Google came up with 2, 990,000 hits in .46 seconds. Many of them, though, were about a specific cowboy or had subject lines like “How the Jews Tamed the West.”

Growing up in the early days of commercial TV during the 1950s and 1960s, I, along with just about everyone else with a TV, watched Westerns. “Bonanza” was my favorite, but I also liked “The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp.” Many years ago, read that Wyatt Earp’s wife was Jewish. Here was information almost as exciting as finding out that Michael Landon, aka Little Joe, was born Eugene Maurice Orowitz, grew up in Collingswood, NJ, and became a bar mitzvah at Temple Beth Shalom when it was still in Haddon Heights, NJ. (Both communities are very close to the town of Marlton, NJ, where I have lived since 1981.)

“The Legend of Wyatt Earp” is an apt title. It is very difficult to distinguish fact from fiction when it comes to the Earp Family. And it is even more difficult to find accurate information about his wife.

Fact: She was born Josephine Sarah Marcus in 1860. Or maybe it was 1861. In Brooklyn, NY. Or maybe not. No birth certificate has been located, not unusual when many children were still born at home with the aid of midwives. And it would be about another twenty-forty years before birth certificates were routinely registered with the state of NY. One source even speculates that she was born in Prussia.
Okay, so the supposed “facts” of her birth are, at best, murky. But it is known that her parents were Jewish immigrants from Prussia, and she was the middle of three children, an older brother and younger sister, plus another half-sister from her mother’s first marriage. And it is a fact that she did die on Dec. 19, 1944, and her cremains are buried in the Jewish Hills of Eternity Cemetery, Coma, CA, next to those of Earp, who died Jan. 13, 1929.

Almost every other purported fact about her life is either conjecture or outright fabrication. Sadie or Josie – she used both names, although the public knew her as Sadie – spent a great deal of time and money in her last years aggrandizing Earp’s reputation, along with hers, and making sure that biographers and film makers followed suit – or she would threaten them with a suit.
One of the major problems is that much that is known about Sadie comes from two sources, both of which have been discredited as, at best, inaccurate, and, at worst, as deliberate hoaxes. Stuart Lakes’ 1931 biography of Earp, Frontier Lawman, was heavily redacted by Sadie; and the 1976 memoir I Married Wyatt Earp, edited by Glenn Boyer, based on Sadie’s doubtfully truthful autobiography, was withdrawn from publication by the University of Arizona Press in 2000 because of the numerous historical discrepancies scholars had uncovered.
Let’s take a look at the basic outline of Sadie’s life and the various versions of it.

When Sadie was eight or nine years old, her family moved from New York to San Francisco, where her father was a baker. According to Sadie, they lived in a prominent Jewish neighborhood. According to census reports, they lived in an ethnically-mixed area reminiscent of the Lower East Side slums.

She became enamored of the stage, and she and her girlfriend, both students at the McCarthy Dancing Academy, ran off to join the cast of “HMS Pinafore,” staged by the traveling company of the Pauline Markham Acting Troupe, known for its scantily-clad dancers, a detail Sadie left out of her account. She also didn’t mention that Markham herself was best known as a burlesque dancer.
It’s unclear when she left San Francisco and eventually arrived in what was then the Arizona Territory. She says she was eighteen, but she also says it was easy to run away: “I left my home one morning, carrying my books just as though I was going to school as usual.” By the age of eighteen, she would have no longer been in school and would likely have been working at a much younger age. Other hints, including her brag that she matured early, have led many to believe she was only thirteen or fourteen when she left home.

Other interesting information that leads one to believe she arrived at the age of fourteen, not eighteen: Acting at that time was often a euphemism for prostitution. In 1874, when Sadie was thirteen or fourteen, Johnny Behan, a saloon keeper, gambler, and politician – he was sheriff of Yavapai County from 1871-73, was known to frequent a brothel. In 1875, his wife divorced him because he had become involved with a prostitute named Sadie Mansfield, in Prescott, Arizona. This Sadie was also fourteen years old; she was born in New York, and her parents were from Prussia. Census reports place Johnny Behan and Sadie Mansfield in Tip Top, Arizona, in 1880, the same period when our Sadie claims to have been working for him as his housekeeper in Tombstone.

It’s likely that Sadie said she went on the stage at age eighteen because that was when the Markham Troupe went to Prescott, Arizona – the home four years earlier of prostitute Sadie Mansfield, same age, same birth place, same parental place of origin. In her memoir, Sadie wrote in great detail about going by boat, yet the troupe traveled to Prescott by train. She also describes meeting a famous Indian scout of the time, Al Sieber – or Zieber, another Prussian, which she does not mention – who saved the stage coach from an Indian attack. Sieber was attached to an Army troop in the area and did rout an Indian attack, but in was in 1875, when Sadie was fourteen or fifteen, not eighteen. She also talks about Sieber’s buckskin outfit, but he wore buckskin only for promotional photographs.

I’m not going to go into detail about her relationship with Johnny Behan, how she claims she became homesick and returned to San Francisco, how he followed and asked her father’s permission to marry her, how she refused his offer. Later in her life, she told some Earp cousins that she returned to San Francisco for the grand opening of the Baldwin Theater – in 1876. She didn’t explain how she could return if she hadn’t left yet. It’s impossible to know what really happened, but she did eventually return to Tombstone, used the name Josephine Behan when she was living as his common-law wife, by which point he was sheriff of Cochise County, got swindled by him out of $300 and a diamond ring to build them a house, and met Wyatt Earp at just about the time that Behan, who had continued his philandering ways, developed a serious relationship with another woman.

Are your eyes glazing over yet? And we haven’t even gotten to the part where she meets Wyatt Earp, and the account becomes even more convoluted.

Basically, Sadie and Wyatt met. Did Johnny Behan introduce them? Possibly. Maybe even probably. At the time, Wyatt was living with a common-law wife, Mattie Blaylock, who later died of an overdose of laudanum. According to romantic legend, Mattie, depressed over Wyatt’s leaving her for Sadie, killed herself. More likely, she overdosed because she was an addict. Wyatt had been previously married, legally, but she died in of typhus during her pregnancy less than a year after their marriage.

A lot of details of how Sadie and Wyatt met, how and when their relationship developed, when she moved in with him, and even whether they ever married are shrouded in deliberate misdirection. Sadie threatened Stuart Lake, Earp’s first biographer, with a law suit if he revealed anything about her time in Tombstone or about her relationship with Johnny Behan in his book. In fact, she’s not even mentioned in the book that started the whole Earp craze.

Everyone knows about the Gunfight at the OK Corral. Or thinks they do. Actually, everyone knows a different version of what happened. Sadie had her own version – she heard gunshots, ran out of the house in such a panic that she forgot to put on a hat, was relieved to find Wyatt unhurt. The shootout occurred in 1881. There is some evidence that Sadie had once again returned to her parents’ home in San Francisco and wasn’t even in Tombstone at the time.

What is known, more or less, is that Sadie did return again to San Francisco. Earp later followed her, and the two set off to make their fortune. By 1882, she was using the name Josephine Earp. She claims they were married by a riverboat captain in 1892, but no marriage certificate has ever been found. They stayed together until his death in 1929.

Actually, the rest of the story is pretty straight forward. After leaving Tombstone, Wyatt never worked again as a lawman. During the forty-seve years Sadie and Wyatt were together, they traveled throughout the west, following the gold and silver rushes, even as far as Alaska. They ran saloons, gambled, and sought a fortune that never materialized. Eventually, they settled in Los Angeles, where they hoped to cash in on the new film mania for the Wild West. His legend was born. Sadie’s life was relegated to, at best, a footnote. Even a new biography of Sadie, Lady at the O.K. Corral, by Ann Kirschner, has been criticized as being more about Wyatt than Sadie.

As an autobiographer, Sadie was an excellent fiction writer. Earp’s cousins, who were helping her with the writing, gave up because she was so evasive about her early years. When the book was published in 1976, it became the fourth best-selling book published by the University of Arizona Press. It was almost twenty years later that questions about its accuracy arose, and in 2000, as mentioned before, the book was taken out of the University’s catalogue.

In her later years, Sadie devoted herself to preserving her version of the Wyatt Earp legend. She was prone to depression, paranoia, and other illnesses, and in her last years developed dementia. Her relationship with her sisters-in-law was acrimonious. She did, however, seem to have remained close with her own family. There are anecdotal reports that Wyatt joined her at a Marcus family Seder in 1896. It’s entirely possible, as Sadie and Wyatt did live with her parents for a while. One of the sources of the story is Henry Fonda, who recalled once talking with an old man who said that when he was a young child, he had met Wyatt at his own family’s seders in San Francisco at the turn of the 20th Century.

According to biographer Kirschner, Wyatt had more Jewish friends than Sadie did, and Sadie was, at best, indifferent to being Jewish. There is some evidence that her parents belonged to a Reform synagogue in San Francisco, and Wyatt and Sadie are buried together in the Marcus plot, with her parents and brother nearby.

Other than those conflicting and contradictory stories, it’s all true.