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Archive-name: Miscell/zangara.txt


Archive-title: Zangara's (Kibo) Elegy

	Here is the long awaited story involving Kibo.  As previously

discussed, I would have Kibo's permission to use his name if he existed.

Also, if he existed he would have asked me to cross-post this to the

groups which I cross-posted to.

	There is a quiz (Multiple choice) at the end.  Please post results

to as many groups as you want.

                           Zangara's Elegy

	"'He was a bloody tyrant and we brought him down.  And I will not

have history think I did it for a bag of gold or in some kind of rabid


	I looked curiously at this disheveled individual who was ranting

what I perceived to be nonsense.  I turned to my guide, and hopefully

future employer.  "What is he talking about?"

	"Oh, he's no one.  He thinks he's John Wilkes Booth, that's all,"

came the reply.  I looked closer at my guide.  I hadn't really studied

him up to this point.  Suddenly however I knew that he posed me no

threat, and so I wished to know more about him.

	"'Tell them how the Union can never recover from that vulgar, high

and mighty niggerlover, Never--!`"

	I began going over what I knew about my guide.  His name was Dr.

Charles Guiteau, and he was the director of the mental ward of the

University of Massachusetts Medical Center.  I knew nothing about his

credentials, but that was not where my curiosity lay.  I was interested

in his character, and since it was profession to know other peoples

thoughts, I was able to delve into his inner self even as he showed me

the building.

	"Kibo, would you like to join us?" Dr. Guiteau asked the mental

patient.  "This is Dr. Sam Byck, and I'm showing him around the


	"My name is not Kibo, it is Johnny Booth.  Sure, I'll come along.

'Someone slew the tyrant, just as Brutus slew the tyrant`"

	"We don't know his real name, so for a while we were calling him

Johnny.  Then the doctor who was handling his case decided it was better

to call him something else.  I'm not sure where the name Kibo came from

though,"  Dr. Guiteau rambled on.  "By the way, if you come on Kibo will

be one of your patients.  Dr. Czolgosz, the man who left for Buffalo,

was his doctor."

	I had been half listening to this exchange until Dr. Guiteau's

last sentence.  Suddenly my interest in this specimen was piqued.  There

had to be some way of using him to my purposes.  "I would be interested

in seeing his file," I replied, confident that my speech had not skipped

a beat.

	"That will have to wait until you accept the position, which we

hope you do.  It will certainly give our department prestige, something

we have been lacking for quite a while."

	This man was showing all of his cards, wasn't he?  I had nothing

to fear at all, in fact I had him wrapped around my finger.  Kibo on the

other hand was someone I would have to learn.  His next comment through

me for a loop.

	"'Attention must be paid.`"

	"That was from Death of a Salesman.  Arthur Miller was born in

1915, and wrote that play in 1949.  John Wilkes Booth died in 1865.  Why

is he quoting Arthur Miller?" I frantically asked Dr. Guiteau, although

I'm sure he couldn't see the panic I was feeling.

	Dr. Guiteau just chuckled.  "Listen to him a little longer, maybe

you'll figure it out.  Although if you do, you're a better detective

than I.  I had to read his file to figure it out.  I still don't know

how Dr. Czolgosz deduced it.  Maybe Kibo told him, I don't know."

	"'I'm an actor Lee, and I'm a good one.  But Willy Loman is a part

that I could never play.`"

	"Lee!  Who the hell is Lee?!?" I blurted out anxiously.

	Dr. Guiteau chuckled again.  He just didn't understand, did he?

"Tell Dr. Byck who Lee is Kibo," Dr. Guiteau said quietly.

	"Why Lee Harvey Oswald of course.  Who else would I be talking to?

And DON'T CALL ME KIBO!!!!  Please."

	"Now don't get hostile," Dr. Guiteau turned back to me.  "Do you

understand any better now?"

	"Yes," I said, much more calmly.  It was really a good think that

Guiteau was so clueless and Kibo was nuts, or I might have been in deep.

I made a mental note to control my emotions better than I had.  "But I

still don't see how John Wilkes Booth could be talking to Lee Harvey

Oswald, and how he could be quoting Death of a Salesman."

	"Keep listening, maybe you'll figure it out.  If not, I guess

you'll have to accept the position so you can look at his file."  He

chuckled again.  God, that chuckle was getting annoying.

	"'You should kill the President of the United States. . . . He

didn't come here to get shot. . . . Lee, when you kill a president it

isn't murder.  Murder is a tawdry little crime. . . . when Julius Caesar

got killed--he was assassinated. . . . Ah, you know his name.  Brutus

assassinated Caesar -- what?--two thousand years ago, and here's a high

school drop-out with a dollar twenty-five an hour job in Dallas, Texas,

who knows who he was.  And they say fame is fleeting. . .`"

	My clinical mind was itching to get Kibo in a padded room and go

to work on him.  He intrigued me immensely.  Dr. Guiteau on the other

hand was extremely simple, and I could manipulate him any way I saw fit.

So I told him, "Kibo here fascinates me enormously.  He has stimulated

my professional curiosity to the point where I must see if I can help

him.  Therefore I accept the position as your assistant here at U/Mass

Medical Center."

	"Good, good, we are very excited for you to be on our staff."  His

use of the word we was getting cumbersome, but I bore with him.  "Let me

show you to your office.  All of Dr. Czolgosz's files have been put in

there already."  Now we were getting somewhere.

	"'That's a Mannlicher-Carcano.  6.5 millimeter.  Stopping range

900 yards.  The sight's already been adjusted. . . . My name is John

Wilkes Booth, Lee.`  Ahem!  'My name is John Wilkes Booth, Lee.`"

	"Oh, that's my cue," said Dr. Guiteau.  "He likes to have an

Oswald for this part.  'John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln.`"

	"'Attention has been paid.`"

	"He's trying to convince Oswald to kill Kennedy, isn't he?"  I

asked Guiteau.  "It's as if he's reading from a script."

	"You are good.  That's exactly what he's doing.  Like I said, I

don't know how Dr. Czolgosz figured it out, but the things that Kibo

says in the guise of John Wilkes Booth are from a Broadway musical

called Assassins.  He must have been exposed to it before he came here.

In fact Dr Czolgosz's theory is that Kibo was as sane as you or I when

he was exposed to it, and then some action shocked him into this


	This will truly be an interesting subject.

                            * * * * *

	"Now Kibo, this is going to be different from your sessions with

Dr. Czolgosz.  First of--"

	"Please don't call me Kibo.  My name is Johnny Booth."

	What the hell, what do I care.  I'm going to undo all the progress

Czolgosz made on this bozo for my own purposes, so I might as well let

him have his way.

	"Of course it is.  When we are alone I will call you John.  But

when we are in public, I must call you Kibo.  Otherwise I might lose my

job.  Now you wouldn't want that."

	"No, of course I wouldn't.  'All you have to do is move your

little finger, and you can change the world.`"

	"Now Johnny, let's make a deal.  I will call you John when we are

alone.  I will not badger you with questions, but we will play games.

You call me Sam, again only in private.  In return you need to do some

things for me though.  First, do not quote lines from that play while we

are alone in this office.  Second, do not ever tell anyone what we do in

here.  And third, when we are in public, allow me to call you Kibo.  You

may correct others, but not me.  This will show that I am succeeding

with you.  I'm tired of seeing you used for research the way they used

you before, but if the hospital management found out that I had STOPPED

using you like a lab animal, then they will take me off of your case."

	I'll have him eating out of my hand in no time.  I'll look like a

genius.  Heh, I already do look like a genius.  I am a genius, only they

don't know the half of it.  I amaze even myself sometimes.

	"John, the first game we are going to play is word association.

Did you ever do this with Dr. Czolgosz?"

	"Yes, Dr.- er, Sam.  But I thought you said you weren't going to

badger me like Dr. Czolgosz."

	"I'm not.  This is going to be different, fun.  First off, you are

going to say the first word.  And the trick is that the word must start

with the last letter of the previous word.  And the object is to stump

the other person.  And you only get five seconds,no repeat words, and

nouns only.  Are you ready?  When I say so, you have five seconds, any

word.  Go."




	What, is you psychic too?  "Plan."


	That you are.  And you are dealing with an "Expert."

	"Tail. T-A-I-L."

	That's what I've got you by.  Now I'm going to teach you a



	Now he's thinking.  That's when I can get him.  "Crusader."


	There you go, now you're taking my lead.  "Norm."


	"Romance."  What the hell am I doing?  I MUST think before I open

my mouth.  God, I'm a stupid shit.  I am playing with HIS mind, not the

other way around.


	Good, he didn't catch it.  Of course he didn't catch it, he's

crazy.  Besides, Sherlock Holmes wouldn't have caught it.  "Tower."  I

am far too clever for anyone to catch me.


	What is your trick?  Do you KNOW what's going on in my mind?  Calm

down, of course not.  "Rap."  But damn, you're hitting a nerve.  Maybe I

should just lose and end the game.


	All right, you little punk, this game is ending.  No wait, you

can't know.  You're a fucking nutcake.  You think you're John Wilkes

Booth.  "Nonplus."  And you think you can talk to Lee Harvey Oswald.


	You stupid, fucking runt.  Stop with the fucking words.  No, I

will not lose to this crazy sonofabitch who thinks that a man who died

in 1865 can quote a man who was born in 1915.  "Road."


	You think you're an assassin.  Of course you're going to say

death.  Don't think you can fool me.  "Hew."  Even if you do know what

I've done, there's no way you can prove it.  Who'd believe a crazy fuck

like you.


	Holy shit, you do know.  The crazy fuck knows.  Well there's no

way you can prove it.  "Entity."


	I'm not yellow, you little shit.  I'm the most courageous man on

the face of the planet.  I'm alone in the same room as a man who is

proud to think he's an assassin.  "Wasp."  Not many men would take that

chance.  And I'm not even scared.


	You pervert.  And that just proves you have no clue, it was only

blind luck.  "Ski."


	Yeah, that's why I did it, so what.  I only think you're playing

with me, but you have no idea of what you're saying.  "Epithet."  You're

just trying to win this stupid game.


	There will never be a trial, you dumb fuck.  "Loop."  And even if

there was, I'd get off scott free.


	Are you kidding?  The police are stupider than you are.  They

actually consoled me when it happened.  "Era."  The stupid fucks

consoled my wife's murderer.


	No way, sonny.  It has been five months, and they've gotten

nowhere.  They think she committed suicide.  "Trapeze."  They are NOT

going to arrest me.

	"Ewe.  E-W-E."

	"Earth."  See, you have no idea.  I'm the only one who know's and

I will NEVER confess.


	"How the hell do you do it?!?  Yes, I killed my wife, Lee.  Yes I

knocked her out with a hammer.  Yes I cut her with a poison razor.  Yes

I put her in the shower to look like suicide.  Yes I did it to collect

all of her fathers inheritance.  Yes, yes, yes!!!!"

	Kibo was gone.  I slumped in my chair.  It was now a matter of

them believing a crazy wanna-be assassin or a distinguished doctor.  I

still had nothing to worry about.  Even when the officer was reading me

my rights I knew I was still invincible.

                               * * * * *

	The sergeant was sitting across the table from me asking me

questions, and I was telling him the same old bullshit.  The

accommodations weren't bad considering I was under arrest.  Of course

they would have to release me soon, they had nothing on me.  Just the

testimony of some crazy patient at the U/Mass Medical Center.  I had

nothing to worry about.  After all, my profession was minds, and I knew

the police believed me, and thought the crazy fuck, was just that, a

crazy fuck.  The cop was just going through the motions as he asked me

if I had killed my wife, if I had confessed in that office, and even

what I thought of the mental stability of my accuser.  That was the

fingered me.  They did not think that I had done it.

	A buzzer sounded and the sergeant picked up a phone.  He listened

a moment.  "Send him in," he said into the phone, and turned to me as he

hung up.  "The chief is coming in."

	The door opened and the chief came in.  "We have no evidence to

hold you Dr. Byck.  I'm sorry this all happened.  Apparently the

arresting officers were unaware that your accuser was a patient, and

quite frankly we are desperate to find an explanation for your wife's

death, so. . ."

	He let it drop there.  "Oh, it really is quite alright," I said.

"I understand, and I wish I knew the truth about my wife's death.  No

hard feelings."

	"One thing though, Doctor," the chief continued.  "We found this

audio cassette in Kibo's pocket.  It seems to be a musical play of some

sort.  I'd like for you to listen to it a moment."

	The speakers in the room started to crackle from age.  A raspy

sound started to emanate from them.  "Yes, I killed my wife, Lee.  Yes I

knocked her out with a hammer.  Yes I cut her with a poison razor.  Yes

I. . . ."  Two officers restrained me as I tried to bolt from the room.

	"There is one more thing, Dr. Byck," the chief said.  "I'd like to

introduce you to Detective Giuseppe "Kibo" Zangara."  The door opened

and there stood Kibo, the crazy fuck who had cornered me.

	"Why, Kibo, why did you fuck me over?"

	"'I did it to bring down the government of Abraham Lincoln and

avenge the ravaged south. . . . `"*

* The speech meant to emulate John Wilkes Booth is taken from the

musical Assassins by Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman


1) How should Kibo's name be pronounced?

   a) Sauerkraut

   b) Who the fuck cares?

   c) Both

2) Why wasn't there any sex in the story?

   a) To piss off the people in

   b) Who the fuck cares?

   c) Both

3) Does Kibo exist?

   a) Yes

   b) No

   c) Both

C Squared



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