My birth certificate listed fathers occupation as “Organizer C.I.O.” the Congress of Industrial Orginaizations, and sure enough, after the tunnel strike was settled he was off to organize the borax miners up at Death Valley, Trona and Bishop, California. This time it was Ronald Reagans Death Valley sponsors, U.S. Borax Company and the American Potash & Chemical Corporation who both did wish my Daddy dead. He had to move around a lot to keep ahead of the company goons who carried saps and brass knucks to beat the shit out of the bastard-pinko union guys. Even the FBI guys had a hard time keeping up with him.His three hundred plus page FBI fies are page after page of Gately gone missing, always one or two steps ahead of the Feds.
"RWG Aqui"
Steve Barr's notes during his collaborative writing and editing of the story of a generation approaching the end of the street and around the bend.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Manuscript Transcription Begun
So as to not waste another six years of this fantastic story sitting in a storage locker collecting dust I've just bit the bullet and hired a friend to transcribe the original manuscript given to me by Bob so I can format it for publication and I will post some choice snippets as we progress to give you all a sneak peek into what I call "The definitive story of a generation".
Monday, June 5, 2017
Original Manuscript Recovered
So I lost the original manuscript with handwritten notes from Bob in the margins that he gave me shortly before his death, in the motorhome down at the end of the street the night Helen H. took me over there to talk with Bob about publishing this life's work of his. He and I sat in that motorhome sipping whiskey until sunrise that night as I read the manuscript out loud with him giving me color commentary from start to finish and I emerged into the bright morning sun with a hangover and this manuscript under my arm leaving Bob with the promise I would get his story published. It truly is the story of a generation written in the first person by a man who was at the center of that generation's finest hours. I had given it to a friend for safe-keeping one of those times I needed to get across a border and pronto to escape the long arm of Sheriff Joe and his henchmen. It's been in his storage place for a few years and I'm happy to report I have it back and will be getting it transcribed and start shopping for a publisher while simultaneously getting the screenplay version written. This is a best-selling autobiography and a box office smash movie if there ever was one.
So Bobbo...if you're up there you space cowboy you...we're back on track buddy!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Monday, December 21, 2009
Cowboys on Mars? A Space Opery by Robert W. Gately
Welcome to our Web Cabaret.
If friend, we greet you heart & hand.
If stranger, such no longer be.
If foe, our love shall conquer thee.
If friend, we greet you heart & hand.
If stranger, such no longer be.
If foe, our love shall conquer thee.
Cowboys on Mars? A Space Opery has been a long labor of love and distraction. Imagining how our children's progeny will pioneer a way-up-west planet and establish humankind's first extraterrestrial outpost in space has consumed countless hours of bliss and gratification. Many souls present and past have contributed their talent, time and hearts to seeing the work to its ultimate manifestation of our generations aspirations to peacefully and purposely explore and inhabit our sister planet, Mars.
Mars 2169 will be a BoomStar, beckoning adventurers to come and face the difficult reality of opening new territories for exploration and exploitation. The every-man, woman and child of these difficult days will work in harmony or die trying to live in an unforgiving atmosphere. This aint easy Earth folks, and we aint Martians, yet.
No soldiers are needed in this peaceful planetary environment. War and weapons were left on earth. Here all conflicts and concerns are addressed with harmonious communication through thoughtful resolution by kind words, moving music and expressive dance. Although the Crystal Pueblo and the BuckyDome is rocking and wobbling, our pioneers are bucking it out with guts, grit and rhythm.
Welcome aboard… Hope you enjoy the journey and it suits your fantasy of the near future and moves you lend a hand in seeing Cowboys on Mars? someday soon, Live & In-Person on a moon lit Arizona sky-stage… Yaw… Who…!
Why knot?
Friday, October 23, 2009
Quote from pg 109 of Manuscript
"That bus got us busted in San Berdoo for the "FUCK COMMUNISM" bumper stickers we had scored in Haight Asbury splayed across the rear. The motor cop that stopped us said he agreed with what it said, but that we could no cruise around this town with the four letter word attached. We assured the officer that we would indeed paint over the offending word in the morning. In the morning, stoned, the kids painted out "COMMUNISM" leaving the "FUCK" to startle the other motorists on the I-10 back to Phoenix."
Quote from pg 72 of Manuscript
"We found and old second floor ballroom for rent at 220 Broadway, named it "The Electric Light Sho" and moved into the third floor apartment with a kitchen and bathroom where we cooked many a pasta dinner for artists and musicians who came to be passing through. Word got out that we welcomed bands to come and use the place as free rehearsal space and soon we had a band a day playing to the walls. We were open three nights a week for paying customers, a buck fifty a head and soon were making enough money to pay the $800 a month rent and buy enough pasta to keep us all fed. Across the street there was a five story high moving and storage place with white walls and we would set up the projectors in our windows and do our light show for the delight of the passerbys on Broadway."
Thursday, October 22, 2009
So I met this guy in a parked motorhome...
...and we sat and talked a bit. He told me that he's "coming off a twenty year hiatus and working on a manuscript of his memoirs". As he sat behind his desk which was the built-in dinette in his '68 motorcoach which was parked in the side yard of a ramshacked house "just around the bend at the end" of a neighborhood street on the eastern edge of the downtown "hood" of Phoenix. The wooden gate to the yard had a small white paper sign that simply said "RWG Aqui".
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Manuscript Transcription Begun
So as to not waste another six years of this fantastic story sitting in a storage locker collecting dust I've just bit the bullet and hi...
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RWG has passed.....
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So as to not waste another six years of this fantastic story sitting in a storage locker collecting dust I've just bit the bullet and hi...