| From: Christopher Robin My Fellow Fathers in
Exile, Friends, Activists,
Thank you for your kindness while I was in hell. The following is the story of
what can happen to us if we decide to fight back. Let's fight back.
PURPLE HEART HOUSE
2297 Holly Drive Hollywood, Ca. 90068
(213) 462-1504
25 June 1998
Robin is out of the Cuckoo's nest!
Fellow Fathers in Exile, Friends, Activists,
In the 2 years the Purple Heart House has been in existence to demonstrate the pain and
suffering of families in custody battles, we've had three press conferences. In November 1996, about 100 activist fathers, mothers, grandparents and
kids paraded with signs-in-hand in front of this colorful old home, relating
their nightmarish stories of Family court corruption to the world. In order
for the street to be free of cars so the media trucks would have plenty of space to set
up, we had arranged with the city that our activists could park at the Hollywood
Bowl parking lot and we had shuttle service to the Purple Heart House.
It's only 2 blocks away so several of our demonstrators chose to take the stroll.
There were promises of coverage from several national media sources as well as the 7 local
television stations and print press as well. Our invited speakers began
making their speeches at 1 PM as announced. By 2:30 PM, not one press person
(nor policeman) had shown up at our beautiful event. Can you imagine having 100
demonstrating activists on a street in Hollywood California or any large city without
several police there for crowd control or at least to observe?
Our second press conference was held a few months ago to share
the stories of family destruction by the courts as exhibited on the Purple Heart Wall of
Hope. Again, we had promises of coverage from several
press-sources. After an hour of waiting for someone from media to show, we were
about to call it a day when an NBC video truck pulled up. A somewhat grizzled,
frazzled, hostile, haggard, post-menopausal reporter name of
Laurel Erickson exited the truck with her driver, the cameraman. No matter how
cordial we were, she continued to argue with us that if we were not able to see our
kids, there must be something wrong with us. She insisted that everyone she
knew got joint custody. After this antagonistic, rancorous, venomous
fish-wife drove away, the activists here prayed in unison that NBC would not
air any of our interviews because by now we'd learned they would most certainly edit our
statements to show us in the most negative light. We had failed in our second
attempt to get positive coverage.
As Winston Churchill and Jim Semerad always say, "Never Give Up"
....so even after 2 miserable disappointments at getting the press to cooperate, we were
sure our third try would be a success.
Our Fathers-Day-Week Press Conference was set for
Thursday, June 18 at high noon. For a week, our
activists were busy faxing, emailing and sending out hard copies of our Press
releases. We felt at last that our message to the world about corruption in Family
courts in the world would be publicized. We had promises of media coverage from
even more sources..... and since we were now more sophisticated and wise in how to conduct
an event, there was no doubt that finally, victory would be ours.
A little before noon, a reporter from KFWB-AM all News Radio 98 arrived and
spoke with a couple of our activists for at least 20 minutes on tape. Just after
KFWB drove away, a KTLA television truck arrived and the reporter began to
video tape the Purple Heart House and the stories and pictures on the Purple Heart Wall of
Hope. A few of the activists were interviewed and we were told that we'd
probably get a 10 second spot on News At 10 PM. After the Channel 5 truck sped
away, we set up our video camera and got about an hour of great interviews with a
dozen activists for our own cable show. Before we hugged, shook hands
and parted, we concluded that if we got a 10 second spot on News at 10,
we would consider our hard work a success.
At about 10:40 PM, there it was on Channel 5....PURPLE HEART HOUSE.... a
picture of this old house over the left shoulder of the anchor :
Anchor:
"For this Fathers Day weekend, a house in the Hollywood Hills has been
decorated with hundreds of Purple Hearts ...each one represents the heartache of a
child-custody battle. Men and women who have been separated from their children by
divorce gathered at the Purple Heart House today. They put pictures of their
children on the hearts and told their stories.
An organizer explains the message of these Purple Hearts and the participants hopes for
Fathers Day.
(John Smith...activist):
"We feel that the system, given the excessive
child support awards and the
whole concept of custody...like sole custody, only serves to force one parent into
exile." (Camera pans pictures and stories on the Purple Heart Wall of
Hope)
Anchor:
"And some of the men say the best gift they could receive this Fathers Day, is to see
their children."
KTLA promised us 10 seconds and the bit turned out to be 44 seconds. Then,
the following morning on the early morning news, KTLA repeated the story.
Thank you KTLA! Every little second counts.
________________________________
STORM TROOPERS INVADE PURPLE HEART HOUSE!
At about 8 PM that night on Friday, June 19, the Purple Heart House
was surrounded by 5 LAPD black and white units. I looked out the window and realized
this would be the third time in a month that the police had come to this old home for an
uninvited visit.
Twice before they had entered my home without a warrant and went through my drawers,
opened every door, left every light on and their answer was..."Someone called
who was worried about you." I asked, "Don't you need a warrant
to violate my civil rights?" They said, "Not if there is a
reasonable cause to see if you are all right." Both times, they
would not say who had called the Gestapo office to harass me.
My mate Joanie was at the gate trying to get in but there were 8 burly Gestapos there
telling her she would not be allowed to enter. She's 5'4' and 105... but fearless
and very passionate about our cause. She called on her cell-phone to say there were
8 Gestapos accompanied by a huge, masculine, female Psychologist about to enter my
property without a warrant. I immediately hid my valuables, dressed in my most
comfortable old baggy clothes and went to the gym and sat on a weight bench waiting for
them....and had no idea what was in store for me.
The gym is a couple floors below the living room and bedrooms and I could hear a lot of
footsteps stomping throughout this old house and finally, the door to the gym banged
open and a Gestapo with flashlight in hand said, "Come out of
there!" I slowly walked toward the Storm Troopers and as I reached the
patio outside the gym door, the head Nazi said, "Turn around and put your
hands behind your back." As they put handcuffs on me, I asked
them what I had done and no one answered. I told them I had Degenerating
Arthritis in my spinal fusion and that it would harm me to have my hands cuffed behind
me. The handcuffs were very tight and I asked if they could loosen them but they
said they could not.
All 8 of these nefarious cops surrounded me as they led me down 50 steps to the street to
a Black and White used for transporting criminals.
It was most certainly a circus for the dozens of neighbors gathered in their front yards
to witness the spectacle. I shouted out, "The Nazis have
me....call the cops!" The Gestapo closest to me said, "Stop
Yelling." I told him it was my neighborhood and I'd yell if I wanted to.
Joanie was close by and warned me to cooperate since she was very concerned they would
harm me. I could see that feisty little woman going from cop to cop asking for
their cards. When Joanie asked the Roseanne-ish Psychologist for her
card, the Behemoth snapped back, "I don't have one." Joanie
then asked for her name and the Sweat-Hog said something like Weianberg...and spelled it
out wrong. Its name was Weissberg.
I kept asking them what I had done and why was I handcuffed. The answer was
that they were trying to keep me from harming myself. I was thinking that with
8 cops and "Godzilla the shrink" surrounding me, how could I have harmed
myself or anyone else? It was time to get in the paddy wagon so they had me
sit my butt on the back seat with hands cuffed behind me....but I'm 6'1" and the back
seat was so small I couldn't get my feet in so the cop lifted one foot in at a
time. Once, crunched into the car, I mentioned that I'd hate
to be a criminal if this is the way they treated a singing teacher who lived in a house
with 775 Purple Hearts on it. Behemoth asked if I had medical
insurance. I mused to myself that they were taking me away against my will and
my insurance would have to pay for it? "No...I don't have
insurance." She/it tried to be friendly and commented, "This
is a huge house...is it just one house...do you live here alone?" My hands were
getting numb from the cuffs, the old Arthritic back was clicking, you can
imagine I wasn't feeling too friendly so I ignored her twaddle and then she
answered, " So that's the way you're going to be?"
The destination was the Psychiatric Ward at the LA County
USC Medical Center where they photographed me, took blood, X-rayed my
chest, interviewed me at length. They continued to state that I was not under
arrest but had been removed from my home for my own safety. Hell ...I was just about
to pump iron before Joanie and I had a late dinner when they abducted me.
The Head-shrink, (an older Woody Allen-look-alike with thick Hungarian accent)
spoke to me..."Haff you effer been in psychiatric hospital before? Haff you
effer been under duh care uff a Psychiatrist?" I answered truthfully,
"No...I haven't...but I've taught singing to 14 Psychologists and Psychiatrists and
they were the nuttiest people I ever knew!" Dr. Woody, the
inquisitioner-shrink was not amused, but it's the truth. My singing
student-psychologists were the absolutely most insane people I have ever met. He was
taking notes as fast as he could. I was allowed to continue and related the
story of Dr. Leah who brought me 200 pictures of her Naked Body...showing the
effects of Rolfing...but mostly to seduce me.
Now...Dr. Leah was 65 years old....have you ever seen one picture of a naked 65 year old
woman...any 65 year-old woman? But....200 pictures! No matter how great
she got Rolfed, it ain't very seductive. Dr. Woody still did not smile.
Next question, "Mr. Roben....Vy do you tink you are here? Do you
vant to harm yourself?" (I noticed already they had changed my name from Robin
to Roben.) "Well, Your Honor Sir, I'm a Fathers-Family Rights
Activist and I have 775 Purple Hearts painted on my old house to make a statement to the
world about the corruption in Family Law courts." I could see him
nodding, "This man must be delusional...775 Purple Hearts on his home."
I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I hadn't slept for more than 24
hours, had been hauled away... not read my rights, treated like a violent
criminal. Even O.J. the ax-murderer didn't have to go through this.
At 6:30 AM Saturday, an ambulance crew arrived to transport me to a Psychiatric
Hospital in a place Rosemead, California. All-of-a-sudden I had been transplanted
from paradise in Hollywood .... to Cuckoo-Ville.
There were 2 dozen inmates wandering around, stoned out of their minds, in hospital
gowns with asses showing. They had just been awakened for their breakfast trip
across the yard to the cafeteria. A couple of the violent ones were not allowed to
go with the rest of them so they were brought breakfast. After they had all
returned, it was time to check me in.
Heidi the nurse, a 400 pounder, who, in her former life was probably a Sumo
wrestler, was in charge of taking my information. An African American man
about 50 who said he was "The President of the United States" and CEO of several
international corporations was standing near me.
Heidi continued to ask the President to give us some privacy and he strolled away in a
very presidential manner.
Hefty Heidi held her notebook in beefy-left-hand, the pen in her sausage-like
fingers ready to write. She said, "Mr. Rober....you will be on
suicide-watch for 72 hours." I noticed that they had changed my
name from Robin to Roben to Rober in just a few hours. Heidi asked me to
tell my story. Before I told my story, I wanted to know what she meant by
suicide watch. She said there was a report that I intended on hanging myself on
Fathers Day. I told her that we were working at creating a dummy for a Mock-Hanging
but the Gestapo stormed my home before we got our project finished.
"If we had announced we were going to hold a Mock-Hanging, no one would have
paid attention to the plight of the destruction of families all over the world by Family
court judges and lawyers." I added that the gallows and noose atop
the Purple Heart House is just a symbol of the death and destruction of all of us as soon
as we get in the system of divorce and custody. I then realized I was talking to a
woman who is an integral part of the system...a county employee ...a bureaucrat whose
salary and benefits we all pay forever. "Heidi...I have no
intention of ever harming myself because I have a lot of work to do with other activists
and besides, when you see Joanie my girlfriend, you'll know why I would never
want to leave this world."
It was obvious Heidi wasn't too interested in what I had to say since she was probably
getting hungry again.... plus she had to listen to dozens of new outrageous stories every
day. She asked again, "Tell me about what you
do." "Okay... am a voice teacher...have taught 3000
people, from beginners to movie stars., now a Fathers Rights Activists and live in
Clark Gable's 4 story Hollywood Home with 775 Purple Hearts painted on it...one for each
day I have not seen my son. " Her eyes rolled up into her head and her
tongue was deep in her very ample cheek in disbelief as she told me that I would have
substantiate my story.
I realized my story would not be believed since the President of the United States' story
was nearly as outrageous as mine. If I had known what was going to happen, I'd have
brought some pictures of the Purple Heart House with me.
The interview was over and I asked Heidi if there was some place I could sleep since I had
not slept for more than 30 hours. She said I could sleep on a couch in
the day room where all the other Zombies watched TV. I said, "Do you see
how big I am. I have Arthritic spine and the couches are 4 feet
long." She said, "It doesn't matter Mr. Rober. Rules are
rules. We must be able to see you at all times." When they finally
gave me a bed, it was in the security room where they keep the violent ones with bright
lights and a television camera on at all times.
They would not let me shave for three days ...even if they watched me. They did not
consider my Arthritis. It was three nights without any sleep
whatsoever. That kind of treatment should be against the law.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am patient, kind and understanding. To be a
teacher, that's the way we must be...but the insanity among the staff in that place
is enough to turn anyone into a nut!. Dr. Woody visited me one morning...I got
all my days mixed up without sleep but he asked ... "MR. ROBER... are you still
hearing voices?" "What?" He
repeated, "Are you still hearing voices?" "I don't know
what you mean Your Honor Sir....I'm a voice teacher." Then he looked at
his chart again and said, "I see...that's what this says."
The only pleasant times during my vacation in Cuckoo-Ville were visits from Joanie and the
phone calls from great activists from all over the world. My apologies to those of
you who got hang-ups because I got so many calls, my two antagonists, the President
whom I mentioned earlier... and a 20 year old gang member who bowed to Allah but said he
was known as Baby Jesus on the street, were envious of all those calls for me.
These two men harassed me constantly because I'm white. I complained to the staff
that these fellows were racists and the staff would scold them...but it didn't help.
"We do the best we can, Mr. Rober." When the phones would
ring, Baby Jesus and the President would hurry to the phones and when it was for
me, several times they'd hang up on you before I could get there. Baby
Jesus was the only violent one there and twice a day, 6 deputies would be called to
restrain him, put him in shackles and shoot him full of even stronger
sedatives.
I didn't understand why they would have him in with the rest of these very peaceful
sedated people who strolled around in a complete haze. On my last day
there, I was so exhausted I just couldn't take any more harassment and I knew that
complaining would do no good, so I walked very closely to the president and said,
"If you say one more word to me ...just one more word to me, I will break
your fucking nose and shove the bones up into your brain and you will be dead. Do
you understand me?" The president nodded "yes" and I never ever
had to hear his voice again. If I had done anything, I'm sure I would have
been there for life. Your patience can run low after being harassed for
three days without sleep.
It has taken me a few days to recover from my experience as a
Political Prisoner on Fathers Day Weekend. My wrists and hands are still
swollen and numb from the hand cuffs...but I know that is just a passing thing. I am
getting some sleep so in a few days, I'll be my energetic self again.
BUT....I will not recover from the treatment I received. They have harmed the wrong
person and I will never ever forgive the system for putting me through that.
They have made an enemy out of a peaceful loving man.
Thanks to all my great friends around the USA and the world for Fathers Day phone calls
and good wishes from Walter Schneider in Alberta, Jack Garbuz in New York,
Steve Galvin in New Zealand, Monica Hoeft Ross in Reno, Donnie Higginbotham in
Arkansas, Randy Liberett in Saskatchewan, Bob Costa in Maine, Engin Kefeli in
Brooklyn, Dave Nevers in Illinois, Mack Jackson in Oregon, Barry Koplen in
Virginia, Dan Wilson in Michigan, Paul Clements in New Hampshire, Jim
Semerad in Michigan, Colonel Harry Bachstein in Arizona, Dave Foster in
Toronto, Dr. Paul Shapiro in Pennsylvania, Glenn Greengalgh in
Maine, Steve Rosamilia in New Jersey, Milton Witty in Louisiana, Dave
Prichard in Toronto and Jay Samuels, John Smith, Adele Trent,
Joanne Rodda, Gene Schoenberg, Bill Kirkendale from California.
My apologies for such a long long letter. I have left out several pages.
It could be a comedy! Thanks to you all for your your help, your phone
calls I haven't answered, your emails , your messages.
Before it was time to go, Joanie had brought me lots of pictures of the Purple Heart House
and everyone on the staff wanted one for a souvenir.
A couple of the staff members had seen our story on television so all of a sudden they
seemed to be more friendly. When the social worker came to walk me to the office
where I would be released, I did not say good-bye to anyone. When I saw
Joanie, I began to sob like an idiot...but I was free.
NO JUSTICE.....NO PEACE!
READ THE LIBERATOR!
[ http://www.acfc.org/theliberator.htm
]
c.r.
Christopher Robin, Sr.
PURPLE HEART HOUSE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
KIDS NEED BOTH PARENTS
KIDS NEED FATHERS....NOT VISITORS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FATHERS RIGHTS
FATHER IN EXILE
------------------------------------
Never ever give up!
780 DAYS WITHOUT MY SON = 780 PURPLE HEARTS
*PURPLE HEART FOUNDATION"
*LEAGUE OF MEN VOTERS" Monica Hoeft-Ross, Pres.
*FATHERS OF AMERICA" Vert Vergon, Pres.
*MR. MOM" Dr. Gene Dorio, Pres.
Never Ever Give Up!
Christopher Robin
Purple Heart House
2297 Holly Drive
Hollywood, CA.90068
213-462-1504
Purple Heart House Website
"The only time SUCCESS comes before WORK is in your IMAGINATION.... or in the
DICTIONARY." C.R. |
