The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

Annals of Crime #62

Original Caption:

New York -- These are the fingerprints of a man tentatively identified as Charles Gomby, 37, of Carlisle, PA, who was killed 9/23 in a police trap at the Brooklyn apartment of nurse Jeanette Chisholm, whom police say he raped. Detective Lt. James Dunseith said the prints "positively" linked Gomby to the 1960 murders of two Brooklyn women. Dunseith also said there is a "very good possibility" that Gomby strangled a number of women in the Boston area. (1962)


swac said...'s been said that not all the Boston Strangler murders were necessarily the work of Albert DeSalvo...

Tom Sutpen said...

From an unfinished article (the only kind I got these days) on Richard Fleischer's 1968 film, 'The Boston Strangler':

Needless to say, for armchair super-sleuths – and they were legion around the country even then – that business in Boston was a real Whodunit: No signs of forcible entry, no clues beyond a rough commonality of victim and immensely demoniac execution. In fact, as the body-count swelled into double-digits over those 18 months there was less and less to suggest that the murders were even being committed by the same lunatic; which of course did nothing to prevent papers at the time from dubbing their phantom assailant ‘The Boston Strangler’. In the end, all it took to crack the case, despite investigators moving heaven and earth to apprehend a halfway decent suspect, was for a working class rape-o named Albert DeSalvo – already sitting in the joint on an unrelated sexual assault – to come forward and confess to the murders with a fair degree of credibility. Then it was over. No charges were filed in the stranglings, DeSalvo plead out to a few similarly-unrelated rapes still on the books in return for a Life sentence, everything went back to normal. And that, like the man said, was that. A large-scale manifestation of urban horror in the unending dusk of the American Century drew to a sputtering, anticlimactic close."