SECTION ONE 

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COLUMN 114, FEBRUARY 1, 2005
(Copyright 2003 The Blacklisted Journalist)

GREEN HAVEN CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION, 4TH FLOOR

[The following is the first chapter in a novel called Perfect Accidents]

It was routine, as executions go.  Then they tried to find a vein to put the needle in.  Maybe it was that the veins were bad from the years on IV drug usage or that the Med Tech was nervous.  Whatever the reason, Dickie Hoon screamed as the blood began to drip from his elbows.

Kenny McCreary and the other fifteen witnesses assembled by the state of New York to watch the event squirmed.  McCreary had covered six actual executions and had been involved in three-dozen other cases.

He had never borne witness to a botch.  (An execution where the procedure is in some way bungled and the Executee suffers.)  Not, of course that most of the assembled witnesses cared.

Richard Stebbin Hoon was a Serial Rapist and murderer who tormented young women on the Lower East Side of New York for close to two years.  He was chronically unshaven, wore filthy flannel shirts and had aspirations of being a singer-songwriter.  He fit right in the artist ghetto that was the neighborhood.  Hoon was released from Danemorra Correctional Facility in Clinton, New York for the rape and attempted murder of a 22-year-old woman. 

He had met the woman one cold October evening in a Fredonia bar and wanted to involve her in one of his S&M fantasies.  These were the same fantasies he had been having since he had read the Sacher-Mascoh  book Venus In Furs at age 13.  He was 35 at the time of his release and gravitated to the area of the state where he felt he could find women of "easy morals;? women that he hoped "enjoyed? S&M/Bondage and Discipline as much as he.

Seven years later, he committed the first of the "Alphabet Rape-Murders? and the women of the city went into a panic.  Eventually, five women were found strangled, raped and their false fingertips protruding from their right cheek.

During this time, Kenny McCreary had ditched his dreams of becoming the next Lou Dylan and had taken a job with the A.P. covering the death penalty on a freelance basis.  He also picked up the assignment to write about the second through fifth (and last) of the Hoon killings.  

After his arrest, the only reporter Hoon would speak with was McCreary.  He respected McCreary's knowledge of the underground sex scene and music industry. Hoon had followed McCreary's series on his murder spree in the Sun very carefully.  He was impressed.  It was as if Kenny had been in his head, he marveled to the detectives that began his interrogation.  After he had spoken to his attorney and was arraigned, Hoon asked to see Kenny McCreary.  They conducted three interviews: one after his arrest, one after his conviction and the last after Dickie Hoon dropped his appeals and demanded his execution.

"Close "em.  Close those fucking BLINDS!?  Superintendent Denton hissed.  He was trying not to be heard in the witness room but the microphone that to carry Hoon's last statement to the world was on.

An attractive 40-something blonde woman sat next to McCreary wearing a plum business suit


McCreary had been
to a hanging
in Delaware


and a string of pearls.  He looked down and noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding band.

"Have you been to any these??  She whispered.

"A couple in Texas and a hanging Delaware."  McCreary said.

"Is this common practice??  She started to scribble notes down on the yellow pad provided to the media witnesses by the prison.

"No." He answered.  "Usually they keep the blinds down until they have the IV's in."

Screams and various curses emerged from the loosely veiled death chamber.

"Did they keep the blinds down during the hanging??  She turned in the small white chair to face him as he answered the question.

"Actually the gallows are outside in a vacant parking lot.  They walk the guy out, up thirteen steps.  It's just like every movie you've ever seen after that."  He smiled shyly at the ground.

"We've never had anything like this at the paper before.  Everyone was like so excited at the prospect of getting to go to an actual execution!  We drew lots and I won.  I can't believe that I got so lucky." She said.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you but the whole thing is very clinical.  It's not like they're going to be writhing at the end of a live electrical wire."

She laughed.  "I know!  But we haven't killed anyone in New York in 40 years.  This is such big news."

More screams and moans came out of the death chamber.  The other witnesses looked at and whispered to each other.  They heard a door open and shut three times.

"Do you have any idea what is going on in there??  The blonde asked McCreary.

"I think they're looking for a vein in a leg."  He turned his chair toward the woman and caught her gaze.

"I'd like to say that Hoon was a poor man but after what he did to those girls, I just don't have any sympathy for him."  She brushed the blonde hair behind her ears. "I'm Stephanie Blonowitz." 

"Kenny McCreary."  He shook her hand.

"From the Sun??  She asked.

"Yeah.  That's me."  He winked.

"You're the reporter that got Hoon off the streets."

"NYPD detectives Jackson and Baines got him off the streets.  I just chronicled how it happened."

"You are too modest."  She ran her hand down his shoulder.

'seriously??  He began.  Then the blinds came up again.

Hoon was there, strapped in the crucifix position, and covered by a sheet up to his neck.  The witnesses saw the IV tubing go up under the sheet.  A mop and bucket stood in the corner.

Blonowitz, McCreary and the rest of the witnesses straightened their chairs so they faced the Plexiglas partition once again.

"Do you wish to make a last statement??  Warden Denton asked.  He straightened his striped tie and wiped the sweat off of his chin.

"Yes, I do."  Hoon raised his head to get closer to the microphone.  "Bell and Caminitti,?  He addressed his lawyers.  "Make sure my sisters and her kids know I said goodbye."

"Is there anything else??  Denton demanded.

"Yeah.  McCreary, tell the gang at Paddles I'll miss them."

Kenny squirmed in his seat.  Stephanie Blonowitz reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Now let's do this fucking thing."  Hoon put his head back on the gurney.

"We are ready."  Denton announced.

Ten minutes later, Richard Stebbin Hoon was dead.  ##  


FOR AS LONG AS PEOPLE KEEP LISTENING TO BOB DYLAN AND THE BEATLES, PEOPLE WILL WANT THIS BOOK

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".  . .It is a fascinating, insightful read. You are such a wonderful writer."---STEPHANIE LEDGIN, Music Journalist.

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The sometimes scattered chronicles of the rock journalist's friendship with a few of the most recognizable music icons in rock and pop history.

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IN THIS 615-PAGE PAPERBACK, AL ARONOWITZ, ACCLAIMED AS THE "GODFATHER OF ROCK JOURNALISM," TELLS YOU MORE ABOUT BOB DYLAN AND THE BEATLES THAN ANY OTHER WRITER CAN TELL YOU BECAUSE NO OTHER WRITER WAS THERE AT THE TIME. AS THE MAN WHO INTRODUCED ALLEN GINSBERG TO BOB DYLAN, BOB DYLAN TO THE BEATLES AND THE BEATLES TO MARIJUANA, ARONOWITZ BOASTS, "THE '60S WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THE SAME WITHOUT ME."


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