Of course, in 1988 we also lost the Playhouse to insurance fraud in the form of arson. Rosa’s Cantina (today, Lotus Gallery) was wrecked one night by a vengeful owner on the night he left town — damned if someone else would succeed where he failed. Why, some public menace actually vandalized Woodstock Building Supply in recent memory — but evil? Such destructive actions are illegal and anti-social in the extreme, but you wouldn’t call them evil…No, in search of that it remains safer to return to the subject of murder.
Michael Kaplan, who owned the property at the farthest edge of Lewis Hollow, had allegedly made a plea-bargain and was poised to turn state’s evidence against a drug lord in a New York City court room — or so the unsolved mystery goes…The weekend before he was found kneeling on the floor of his Woodstock retreat, shot thru the back of the head. Not surprisingly, numerous drug-related deaths have occurred in and around Woodstock.
Surely the most terrible of many local tragedies was the murder of a young woman whose unconscious body was wrapped in a plastic bag, weighted with stones, and sunk in Cooper Lake. In September of 1981 police constable Milton Holsapple proved quick witted enough to keep a suspect on the telephone long enough for State Police, FBI, BCI and NYTeletphone to track the call, tackle Charles ‘Abel’ Lewis in a San Francisco phone booth, whereupon he was soon extradited to Ulster County and brought to justice.
…Continuing this awful catalogue: Two well-loved party-hounds of yore left town together perhaps 25 years ago. It’s said that attempting to purchase a quantity of cocaine on the coast, one — Peter A. — was shot and killed in the deal gone bad; and that his partner, local harmonica-legend Jimmy M., vowed vengeance and stealthily carried out his oath, but unable to withstand memories of the act answering for his friend’s death, ended his own life.
A decade ago, heroin addict Adam Roberts allegedly demanded drug money from his parents. When they refused he bludgeoned them to death before setting their family home on Harmati Lane, ablaze.
Indeed, Heroin was the scourge of my youth, although cocaine, STP, MDA and LSD often exacted a gruesome toll. On the street today I hear it’s pharmaceutical drugs which are most dangerous. On this note I relate an — outwardly — less dramatic tragedy: a friend of mine recently died of “inexplicable causes.” She was a hard worker. One secretarial job paid cash while another employer compensated her in OxyContin of which she grew overly fond. Wayne Longmore did not write the scrip.
More horrid details. I’m almost through. But I will complete this task. Yes, rape and sexual abuse is and was highly prevalent in Woodstock. How sad that the last of many attempts to rescue our most important if decadent nightclub, The Joyous Lake, ended with its owner convicted of drugging and date-raping a young waitress. Of course, most sexual crimes involve women as victims. But unfortunately I remember quite distinctly the afternoon 45 years ago when my best friend and I — both 11 —walked into the local bowling alley to confront its manager, a particularly active pederast “on the job” and alone. His hideously shriveled, almost skull-like face fell, as with eyes downcast he dodged our piercing gaze but not our shrill voices: “You have to stop, Ev–” we told him. “If we hear about it happening again we’ll go to the police. You understand? The police!” Someone else must have spoken up, too, for he soon disappeared. These years later I realize dozens of us were probably molested. Back then, however, I was reluctant to tell my parents for fear my step-father would pull out the .45 automatic he wore stuffed in his belt, and blast this pathetic human being to hell. Strange, I know, such… sympathy for the devil.
But allow me to speculate a moment on the nature of evil. How often have I wondered if, as some insist, evil is merely the absence of good, or its perversion. Might that be? As darkness is best described as the absence of light or cold merely the absence of heat. Perhaps. Unless evil has a power uniquely its own — a gravity — if you will, complete with an ever-powerful pull. Depending on my mood I am persuaded by both arguments. Long ago it was famously said, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” But where are “the good men?” Who has not been touched by evil? It seems many or most — certainly I — have at times eluded my “better angels” and lost myself to an evil within. Oddly enough, in a Graham Greene novel we can’t find “the villain” because the author provides a backstory so convincing “the bad guy” ceases to be bad and becomes instead a victim of his own hideous history. Earlier, Dostoyevsky created similar apologies, without allowing the guilty off the hook. “Life,” the towering novelist advised his reader, “is the battlefield between God and the Devil over the heart of man.” Simplistic? I beg to differ…
…When soon we’ll celebrate Halloween! Its harmless little ghosts and goblins filling their bags with candy. Good news for a village full of dentists! Oh, all right, the town Green will get bathed in shaving cream with a toilet paper float. A few kids might trip or slip and bust a lip. But on the whole? There’s no harm done. Not here in Woodstock which — the world over — is known for its dove of peace resting on a guitar…icon of which we’re most proud. Even if the town fathers wouldn’t allow the festival here. We’ll take the credit anyway. And the tourist dollar. Nothing wrong with that. A little hypocrisy…just look the other way and take the money. There isn’t enough of it these days to warrant looking at where it comes from too hard…Go on, take the money.
And while you’re at it…take the candy, too. It’s free! Smile at the cute kids in their harmlessly devilish disguises. Let them think evil is joke to be laughed at. They’ll know better soon enough. For now? It’s all in good fun. A little mischief tonight, go on — get it out of your system — and tomorrow we clean up the mess. It’s a tradition, after all! Laugh and flirt and cavort around, masked and anonymous…who’s to know, in the crowd, what’s what and who is where? And who would tell if they knew, especially tonight?
But you seem shocked — like you’ve seen a ghost…dear me, I forgot to tell you about “The ghosts of Woodstock.” Oh well, there’s always next year, unless, of course…there isn’t. Hah! In either case… Happy Halloween.
