Message #236505

[Kristin Moore]

It's also worthy of mention that upon my return to my California residence after the 1995 trip, and continuing to this day, I began receiving numerous bizarre phone calls, sometimes several a day, in which there is nothing but "dead air" on the other end. This went on even after we had our number changed to an unlisted number.

There is one other peculiar incident in my past I can call to mind concerning this location.

My father worked in NYC journalism for many years, and during most of the 1970s was feature editor for The NY Daily News. Some time in the mid-1970s before I moved to California, my family went to East Hampton for the weekend.

I would have been about 20-22 years old. We lived at that time mainly in Queens, but spent much time on eastern Long Island. My father had mentioned to me before we arrived in East Hampton that he really wanted me to accompany him and a colleague, Pat O'Haire, the next morning (Saturday) to visit some fellow living in Ditch Plains ( a neighborhood roughly halfway between Montauk village and Camp Hero on the Atlantic shore), whom they were apparently going to interview, I guess for The Daily News. I was never totally clear on the reason they were visiting him, let alone why it was so imperative that I go along!

My dad seemed to think this was a really interesting and fascinating person with some very newsworthy information to impart. He stressed several times that he really wanted me to go with them. The next morning my father again reiterated how much he wanted me to accompany him and Pat O'Haire (who lived (lives) in Montauk), and after a call from my dad Ms. O'Haire drove from Montauk to pick us up and bring us to this man's place in Ditch Plains. It was a rather wintry and gloomy day I recall.

Upon arriving at this man's "house" I was immediately struck by its uncharacteristically (for Montauk and East Hampton Township) drab and plain appearance, and its somewhat unusual cement construction. As best I can recall this man had a Germanic name. Inside, this rather elderly (maybe 55-60), ex- military seeming man quickly engaged my father and Pat in a fairly animated conversation in which he basically pilloried the federal income tax system and the IRS. Now it doesn't take a genius to figure that is a subject on which you are going to get a definite and strong response from virtually anybody -- there aren't too many people, especially among the middle class, who wouldn't get on board that train pretty quickly (the anti-IRS express). I was half- listening, but not too involved. I picked up something about this man I didn't like, I couldn't figure out yet why it was so important for me to go along, and I was feeling a bit bored and uncomfortable.

They went into a little study or office and I started looking around this fellow's living room, whereupon I saw at least a few publications of radical (and racist) right wing groups, indicating this man's politics were diametrically opposed certainly to mine and pretty much to my father's also.