Juliette Spindler for Kennebec7
(Valhalla)
I haven’t written for free since I was about fifteen years old. I’m Juliette Spindler, the “Manhattan Spin Doctor.” I’m a regular in the newspapers here, have my own late nite TV show, and expect to be syndicated nationwide on radio next month. Watch out, Rush!
Why am I here today? Blogging is one of the essentials in the new media. Blog for free so later you might buy something somewhere... Such as my book that will be coming out in October called ‘The Pollette Saga,’ subtitled, Too Rich to be Happy. (It’s still being lawsuit-proofed by the lawyers.)
Ernest Pollette seemed to the world as an almost unreal character. A dashing adventurer- genuine war hero-celebrity abstract painter—the Hemingway of Canvas. You’ve seen his elegant estate so often on TV and in magazines. Three acres of Sherwood Forest near the heart of Valhalla, New York. But the reality of the Pollettes was often a dark, murky cave in Hell.
When Ernest made his transition to the hereafter at age 79 some ten months ago, I was assigned by the Post to cover his celebrity funeral in Valhalla. And to check out the juicy rumors that were seeping through Valhalla into Manhattan.
His only daughter, the heiress named Daisy, would return to the States for the first time in eleven years for Ernie’s funeral. Daisy was and is a media target, a modern-day Gloria Swanson. Daisy was living outside Paris somewhere where nobody could find her. Already rich, she had been one of the Montaigne Fashion House inheritors. Her mother had been the lovely Jeannette (Montaigne) Pollette, best known in Valhalla (some say) for fabulous opium parties and for dying sensationally in a bathtub accident back in 1980.
By the way, here’s a promotional plug for Kennebec. The company is planning a movie called Valhalla, so they’re plugging my book. Both cover some of the hitherto unknown secrets of the Pollette family.
My editor, Zeke W. Maas, had been counting on a sex scandal to be revealed. Among other things, it was rumored that Ernie had children stashed away all over the globe because, like Hemingway, he had sought adventure in far off places like Botswana, Chile and New Zealand, to mention just a few countries he escaped to.
“Looking for the light,” he would say. He was a mad genius when wielding a paintbrush. Color, shape and light were his gods.
Zeke hoped I might unearth some sex scandal featuring underage boys. Funny that in one way, Zeke’s wish was so close to the truth, but alternatively, he couldn’t be further from it. As you now know, if you’ve read ‘Black Soul, White Madness,’ presently Number 5 on the Best Sellers list, having beaten my book to your bookshelves by some six months—there was a young boy. Bobby Pollette, Ernest’s illegitimate son named after Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. More about all that later.
Charlotte Horne, you probably know, has been missing for almost ten months. The big Missing Persons case of the new millennium. The famous magazine journalist who specialized in sensational gossip, Charlotte had headed for Valhalla about a half day before me. She was last seen poking around the gates to the Pollette estate in the middle of the night, two days before Ernie’s funeral. A guy walking his dog witnessed her presence. Her rental car was found nearby the next morning.
If the Pollette Saga were a pie, Daisy would be a one quarter slice, and Ernest, Jeannette and Bobby would each be a fifth. That leaves Elinor MacEvoy, the Pollette’s housekeeper for twelve years until Jeannette’s death in the bathtub. How big a slice should Elinor be? I’ll let you be the judge after my next blog. It’s a juicy pie, folks.
Some might remind me that I’ve forgotten to mention Rosalind Vasquez, the secret hot tamale Pollette daughter from Chile. I haven’t forgotten Roz; she’s actually contributed to my book. Maybe it’s worth two pies, this Pollette saga!
Stay tuned,
Juliette Spindler
New Rochelle, N.Y.
(05/08/2010)