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Jefferson Airplane Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Mercury Media llc

Jethro Tull Discography Grids $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Jimi Hendrix Discography Grids $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Mercury Media llc

John Lennon Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Steve Rush

Kill Your Characters: Crime Scene Tips for Writers (Paperback) $16.95

"Kill Your Characters" is a critical handbook for crime writers everywhere. Imagine you have a dead body on the floor, and your detective character needs to solve the crime and catch the killer. But, if you're not an expert in forensic investigation, how can you describe the death accurately, so the clues make sense? This book, written by former detective and forensic investigator Steve Rush, equips you with the tools you need to impress not only armchair detectives but also real ones. It's your ultimate guide to crafting a gripping opening incident for your story. No more hours wasted searching for accurate information elsewhere. In "Kill Your Characters," you'll find an accurate guide to crucial questions like: How did your character meet their end? What were the circumstances of the murder? Which weapon did the killer use? What evidence did they leave behind? How can you build an airtight case against the suspect? With this book, you'll have the facts to make your fiction stand out. Whether you're plotting your next murder scene or tackling challenges like determining the time of death or understanding forensic evidence from a gunshot wound, Steve Rush's extensive experience is packed into practical tips and activities that will enhance your storytelling. "Kill Your Characters" is a valuable resource for any author aiming to bring credibility and authenticity to their murder scenes.

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Kinks Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Led Zeppelin Discography Grids $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Mercury Media llc

Leon Russell Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Sarah Sharaf-Eldien

Mālama Maui (Full Color Paperback) $55.00

100% of the profit from each sale is donated to the Maui United Way Fire Disaster Relief Fund. MĀLAMA: The value of stewardship. To take care of. To serve and to honor, to protect and care for. “If you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while waiting for you, and the life you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you.” —Joseph Campbell Sarah Sharaf-Eldien arrived in Maui in 2015 searching for purpose in her life and career as a photographer. A chance encounter with the manager at Mick Fleetwood’s restaurant, Fleetwood’s on Front Street, landed her the kind of job most photographers dream of. For seven months she worked alongside Mick Fleetwood, legendary drummer of the band Fleetwood Mac, documenting the day-to-day life at his restaurant and the intimate, electrifying concerts he held there. From live performances by Hawaiian musical legend Uncle Willie K and the most talented local musicians on the island to internationally renowned rockstars like Steven Tyler and Sammy Hagar, Fleetwood’s was a vibrant musical oasis like no other anywhere in the world. Mālama Maui is a story of self-discovery, synchronicity, and Hawaiian spiritual values, vividly illustrated with photographs that reflect her unique experience. Along the way, she learned from iconic music photographer Henry Diltz, who deeply influenced her artistic vision. With a collection of over 100 captivating photos celebrating the island and the musicians who played there, Mālama Maui serves as a visual and cultural tribute to the island and Lahaina Town, preserving it for future generations to come.

<div class="element element-bodymatter element-container-single element-type-chapter element-with-heading" id="chapter-1"> <div class="heading heading-container-single heading-size-full heading-format-full heading-alignment-flexible heading-without-image"> <div class="heading-contents"> <div class="title-subtitle-block title-block-title-is-element-number"> <div class="element-number-block"> </div> <div class="title-block"> <h1 class="element-title case-mixed">Chapter One</h1> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="text" id="chapter-1-text"> <div class="inline-image inline-image-kind-photograph inline-image-size-small inline-image-flow-center inline-image-flow-within-text inline-image-aspect-tall block-height-not-mult-of-line-height inline-image-without-caption inline-image-begins-section inline-image-before-element-end"> <div class="inline-image-container"> <img alt="Creepy Cattle Skull" width="210" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0301/3604/1571/files/skull-3163496.png?v=1728592403" height="280"> </div> </div> THE SIGN SAID WELCOME to Sunnyvale. It was a large sign, the size of a family car, and it was showing its age. The passing vehicles had kicked up the dust from the road, which had reacted with the rain and trickled down its façade in little rivers, leaving a trail of sediment behind. Some of the kids from the village had taken potshots at it with their BB guns, leaving angry welts in the surface of the metal. It was plastered with bird shit and the facility’s cartoon mascots—all animals, of course—looked like they were suffocating beneath the weight of it all. Sunnyvale’s tagline was right there beneath it: The Home of Good Food. Tom Copeland stared at the sign as it grew larger in the windscreen, floated softly past on the passenger side, then disappeared as the path rolled away beneath them. Calling it a road would have been like comparing a burger van to a McDonald’s. At best, it was a narrow dirt track that had been worn into the grass by the passage of vehicles and time. Copeland was glad he was in the back of a Land Rover and not on foot or bouncing up and down in his Vauxhall Corsa. It had been an unusual day so far. This was his first time visiting the facility, and he was following the strict instructions that John MacDonald had given him when he was offered the job. He’d met the three men he was sharing the Land Rover with in the car park of the Red Lion. “You’ll need to hitch a lift until you’re given security clearance,” MacDonald had explained. “If you don’t have a key card, you can’t get in.” The Land Rover hit a bump in the road and the driver, a dour-faced Scot with a bristly ginger beard, smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and shouted, “Come on, ya bastard.” Copeland turned his face to the window again. He was sitting in the back behind the passenger seat because it was the only seat left when they’d picked him up. There had been no time for introductions. That had come later, once the Land Rover had started to worm its way through the back roads and, eventually, the countryside. Sunnyvale was tucked away in a natural dip in the Chiltern Hills, a good ten miles away from the nearest major town or village. There had been plenty of time for them to talk during the commute. The driver had introduced himself as Big Jim Benton, and Copeland had made an immediate mental note not to mess with the guy. Big Jim had a mess of scars poking out from beneath his fiery beard, deep, sunken eyes, and a fat face. He was built like a brick shithouse thanks to twelve years of professional hooliganism and ten years before that of amateur street fights in downtown Leith. His right arm was a mesh of tattoos, and they caught and reflected the sunlight when he hung it out the window. His hair had started to recede and he had a small mole on the left side of his face. He was a little overweight, but he was far from obese. The excess was from the cheese, the beer, and the kebab meat, and it clung mostly to his face, his waist, and his stomach. It was the kind of bulk that belonged to professional wrestlers, a slowly cultivated weight that came in handy when he needed to use it. He could turn it into a weapon when he got in tussles with unexpected vandals or trespassers. It’s what his job was all about. The passenger seat was taken up by Big Jim’s second-in-command, an Irishman called Darragh O’Rourke. He wasn’t as muscular as Big Jim, but he had the look of a wiry street dog with a bruised muzzle. He wore his greasy brown hair down to his shoulders, where it grazed his skin and brought blackheads and spots out in angry welts. He had a disconcerting habit of reaching beneath his Kevlar jacket and scratching at his skin, then bringing his hands back out and investigating his fingernails for blood and pus. He also bit the damn things, which Copeland thought was nothing short of cannibalism. “Darragh’s from Belfast, ye ken,” Jim said. “That’s right,” the Irishman confirmed. “I came over to Liverpool during the recession and ended up moving here for work.” “Ah worked with Darragh afore Sunnyvale,” Jim continued. “Eh’s a good lad, ye ken. Eh’s goat a dog. Ye’ll like tha, Mr. Vet Man.” “Yeah?” Copeland said, raising an eyebrow. He’d never much cared for dogs, but he was socially adjusted enough to know when he was expected to say something more. “What breed?” “She’s a little Jack Russell called Milly,” O’Rourke said. “She’s got a lot of energy. The missus says it’s good practise for when we have kids.” “Take mah advice,” Jim grunted. “Git yeself tha snip afore it’s too late. Ah cannae stand wee bairns. Ah’d rather stick ma dick in a blender thun huvtae raise some wee shite ah didnae want in tha first place.” “I’ll bear that in mind,” O’Rourke replied, but he was laughing. The Land Rover’s final passenger sat to Copeland’s right, slouching back against the leather seats. He couldn’t have been out of his teens. He was an Englishman from Bootle with a thick accent who looked as out of place in his security gear as a bum in a shirt and tie. He had short black hair with zigzags shaved into the back of it, as well as big lips, big ears, and a massive nose that looked as though it had been broken a dozen times. The kid’s face reminded Copeland of a cross between a cauliflower and a bowling ball. The young man nodded at him. “First day?” he asked. Copeland nodded, then flashed a glance at the man’s name badge. “Sure is, Chase,” he said. “The first day of the rest of my life.” “Yeah,” Chase replied. “Something like that. What are you doing here, anyway? You working the line?” “I’m a veterinarian.” “Jesus,” O’Rourke said. “What the shite are you doing at Sunnyvale?” “What do you think?” Copeland replied. That killed the conversation, at least until Big Jim hit a button on the radio. He’d matured into adulthood while grunge was on the rise and was still listening to Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains all these years later. Kurt Cobain was dead. Layne Staley was dead. Chris Cornell was dead. And in a lonely hotel room somewhere, Eddie Vedder was shitting himself at the prospect of being next. As they cruised towards the entrance to the complex, they were listening to L7, an all-female riot grrrl band. Benton was nodding along to the beat, the feminism wasted on a man with a Hibs tattoo and a history of casual domestic violence, but O’Rourke was lying back in his seat with his eyes and ears closed, and Chase looked like he’d tried to swallow a pickled onion without bothering to chew it. Tom Copeland looked at himself in the rear-view and took stock of what he saw there. Back in the day, when he’d been running his own practice instead of “working for the man” on a factory farm, he’d shaved every morning and gone to great lengths to make sure that he smelled of expensive cologne. But he’d lost all that when he’d been dumb enough to steal ketamine from storage. His partner had called him out on it and given him two options: either sign over his share in the company or be reported to the police. For Copeland, that was no choice at all. A shadow passed across his face as he stared at the mirror. It was an ordinary face with a large forehead and a receding hairline. He had short black hair that flicked up from his head because of the way he slept, and he had thin, weedy eyebrows that looked like he waxed them, although he didn’t. He also had big, flat ears that hung to the side of his head like two strips of bacon, but his face wasn’t fat and neither was his body. He kept himself in shape, but it didn’t come easy to him. And he’d let himself go since Linda had left him all alone in the big, empty house that he could no longer afford. When he thought about stuff, he started squinting, and he saw from the mirror that he was squinting then. He was a good guy. He knew he was. But he’d made some bad decisions, and sometimes he felt like an asshole. But he did his best, especially for the animals. His fellow humans chose to be evil and corrupt. The animals had no choice. Copeland had only stolen the drugs because a very unpleasant man had forced him to do it. He recognised the man by sight—he’d seen him in the practice’s waiting room—but he didn’t know his name. The name didn’t matter too much when he had his metaphorical knife to Copeland’s throat and his mouth full of threats against his family. The irony was that when he’d been caught in the act and kicked out of his own veterinary practice, Copeland had lost his family anyway. But at least no one had lost their life. Copeland looked away from the mirror. A stilted silence hung heavy on the air. He fiddled uncomfortably with his seatbelt and shifted position to try to get comfortable. “Jim,” O’Rourke said. “Be a top man and put something else on.” “Like what?” “How about some grime?” Chase said. “Fuck ya grime, ye wee gobshite,” Big Jim snapped. He flashed a glance at Copeland in the rear-view. “Chasey boy thinks eh’s a rapper, ye ken.” Copeland smiled. “Is that so?” “Yeah,” Chase replied. “Opened for Devilman a couple of months back.” “And how come you’re working at Sunnyvale?” “I’ve got no choice,” Chase said. “I need the money. Used to work as a labourer, and before that I was at a warehouse. Then I saw Sunnyvale was hiring and I thought I’d give it a shot. Besides, women love the uniform.” “Aye,” Jim conceded. “That’s true. But ah’d appreciate it if ye could keep yer trap shut fae a while. Ah cannae be dein wi yer chat today, ye ken? Ah’ve goat a hangover. If ah hear another peep, ah’m gonnae drop ye off and let ye walk tae work.” Chase opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. Copeland stepped in to fill the silence. “An Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman,” he said. “What is this, some sort of joke?” Big Jim fixed him with another penetrating stare in the rear-view, but said nothing. A hundred yards or so in front of them, two of Jim’s men were working a checkpoint. A high chain-link fence stretched to the left and the right of the checkpoint as far as the eye could see, disappearing into the trees and following the curve of the land. The fence was festooned with “danger of death” signs, their black lightning bolt insignias popping out from their bright yellow backgrounds. Other signs, white ones this time, warned of guard dogs patrolling the premises. Curlicues of barbed wire lined the top of the fence. Copeland spotted the feathered remains of a bird—a pigeon, perhaps—caught amongst the metal. “Welcome to Sunnyvale,” O’Rourke murmured. “Aye,” Big Jim added. He glanced at Copeland in the mirror again and caught his eye. “Ah’m guessin’ this’ll be yer first look at the place. It’s a shithole, but it’s our shithole.” He idled the car to a stop at the barrier and leaned his head out of the window. “Open the gate, ye whoresons,” he shouted. “It’s me, Big Jim.” One of the men on the gate shouted an acknowledgement and held his thumb up. The other raised the gate and waved them through. Copeland got a good look at the gatekeepers while Jim was revving the engine and easing the vehicle back into its slow, inexorable crawl towards the complex. They were wearing army greens with Kevlar vests and heavy truncheons on their belts. Chase caught Copeland’s eye and said, “Sunnyvale’s got the best security this side of the Mersey. Top lads.” “Why so much security?” “It’s more than my job’s worth to tell you that,” Chase said. “Especially not with Big Jim at the wheel.” “Aye,” Jim said. “Eh’ll find oot fae hisself soon enough.” Copeland nodded. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “I love a challenge.” “Is that why you’re here?” O’Rourke asked. “The challenge?” “Something like that,” Copeland said. He sighed. “Ask me about it some other time.” The Land Rover was slowing again, and Copeland peered over O’Rourke’s shoulder and out through the windscreen. They were approaching something else, another mess of metal. As the vehicle drove closer, scattering dusty pebbles every which way across the dead ground, the terrain levelled out. At the same time, a wave of brutal fragrance pierced the vehicle and Copeland started coughing. It was the kind of smell that lingered in the nostrils. There was a certain stickiness to it, like second-hand cigarette smoke. It reminded Copeland of a kid he’d gone to school with who reeked of starch, fat, and vinegar because his parents owned a chip shop. Sunnyvale didn’t smell like starch or vinegar, but it did smell like fat. It also smelled like sweat and fear, blood and bile. There was a not-so-subtle hint of rotting flesh and a fishy aroma that put Copeland in mind of bad sushi. It also smelled like desperation. It was a depressing smell, and Copeland couldn’t help turning his nose up at it. “That’s the famous Sunnyvale stench,” Chase said. “Do people get used to it?” “Nah,” Chase replied. “They just accept it. Ain’t no use holding your nose, pal. You’ve just got to get on with it. It’s part of the job. It‘s what we get paid for.” “Smells like shit,” Copeland observed. O’Rourke laughed from the passenger seat. “Smells like a whole lot more than that,” he said. “But Chase is right. That smell won’t go away no matter what you do.” “It gets in yer heid,” Jim said. This time, he didn’t look back at Copeland in the rear-view. His eyes were firmly on the road ahead. They’d reached the second mess of metal, and now they were closer, it was clear what they were looking at. “Is that another checkpoint?” Copeland asked. “Aye,” Jim replied. “It’s like Chase seid. Sunnyvale’s goat the best security this side ay the Mersey.” Big Jim reached forward and turned the music off. The atmosphere in the Land Rover had changed, probably because the great facility was looming in front of them on the other side of the formidable fence. It blocked the sun and cast the approach into shadow, reminding Copeland of a Transylvanian castle in some old vampire movie. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It’s a far cry from the old practice in Chalfont St. Peter, he thought. It was followed by a second, more urgent thought, something that came from somewhere deep within him. It was a primal thought, like the urge to eat or drink or ejaculate, and it came on suddenly and without warning. We’re being watched. </div> </div>

Dane Cobain

MEAT (Paperback) $15.95

Veterinarian Tom Copeland takes a job at a factory farm called Sunnyvale after a scandal at his suburban practice. His job is to keep the animals alive for long enough to get them to slaughter. But there are rumours of a strange creature living beneath the complex, accidents waiting to happen on brutal production lines, and the threat of zoonotic disease from the pigs, sheep, cows, chickens, and fish that the complex houses. Suddenly, disaster rocks Sunnyvale, and cleaners, butchers, security guards, and clerical staff alike must come together under the ruthless leadership of CEO John MacDonald. Together, they’ll learn what happens when there’s a sudden change to the food chain. Bon appétit.

Dub Taylor

Monk's Music $34.95

Monk’s Music, Thelonious Monk: An Illustrated Discography is the definitive and up-to-date guide to the recordings of one of the most important jazz composers and performers of the 20th century. A feast for the eye with the full color reproductions and a carefully researched and informative text, Monk’s published recordings are documented here in chronological order, from the earliest days of 1941 through his last known recorded performance in 1975.It’s all here for the Monk fan, Jazz lover, collector and anyone interested in music and recordings. Included on these pages is all the info about Thelonious Monk’s audio and video recordings released through the years on 78rpm, LP records, compact disc, video laser disc, DVD and Blu-ray. Album covers and labels are reproduced in full color. Also included is complete information about the studio and live recording dates, musicians, track listings, record labels, producers, recording venues, bibliography and classic quotes from the High Priest of Bop himself.From sideman pianist in the nightclubs of Harlem to world famous and iconic musical genius, this is the story of Thelonious Sphere Monk as told through his many recordings.

Alexandra Kitty

Murder in a Sundown Town (Paperback) $15.50

In Murder in a Sundown Town, author Alexandra Kitty looks at the shocking 1968 homicide of Carol Jenkins, a sweet and resilient 21-year-old woman stabbed in the heart on her first day on the job selling encyclopedias in Martinsville, Indiana. What seemed to be an easily solved homicide turned into a four-decade cold case and became a tragic story about racism, sexism, gossip, and walls of silence. It is a case of injustice and persistence that still leaves as many questions as answers. In an age of both “true crime” fascination and modern social politics holding equal attention, this book looks at an old case in a contemporary light. From the clues to its racial and gender politics, investigation, resolution, and cultural impact, the book takes an in-depth look at a young woman’s frightening last hours and why Carol’s case is as relevant today as it was in the ‘60s.

Bill Powers

Murderous Rage $16.95

When tragedy struck, the entire system answered the call. On the morning after Christmas in 2000, the small city of Wakefield, Massachusetts, faced something no one could have expected: a workplace turned into a scene of mass murder. In just a few short minutes, seven people were killed inside a tech company office by one of their own—a quiet employee named Michael McDermott. The shock didn’t end with the tragedy. It marked the start of the largest homicide investigation in state history. Murderous Rage follows the case from the first police radio call to the final court ruling. Told by one of the lead investigators, this book shows how detectives, prosecutors, and forensic experts worked side by side, piecing together evidence, interviewing witnesses, and staying focused through media pressure and public fear. Through snowstorms, crowded courtrooms, and hundreds of interviews, the investigative team pushed forward. What they uncovered wasn’t just how the crime happened, but why—and what could have been done to prevent it. This book isn't about heroes or villains. It’s about professionals doing their jobs with care, teamwork, and a shared commitment to justice for the victims. It’s a powerful look at how real investigations happen, far from the way they’re shown on TV.

Jim Berkenstadt

Mysteries in the Music $19.99

"Mysteries in Music: Case Closed" is a book that uncovers the hidden, strange, and fascinating stories in the history of rock and roll. Jim Berkenstadt, known as The Rock And Roll Detective®, has spent years digging into these mysteries. You'll travel back to the 1950s to find out who really discovered Elvis Presley. In the 1960s, a famous folk musician tried to create a supergroup with members from The Beatles and The Rolling Stones—what happened? Learn how some big-name artists used fake names to hide who they were. Explore a mysterious CIA situation in Jamaica in 1976, involving an election and the reggae legend Bob Marley. Did The Beach Boys really steal a song and its copyright from the infamous cult leader Charles Manson, keeping all the money? And dive into the secrets behind Nirvana's "Nevermind" album, which many consider the most influential rock album of the 1990s. These mysteries have fascinated rock and roll fans for a long time because no one has asked the right questions or looked deeply into the evidence—until now. After many years, the untold stories of pop and rock music history are finally uncovered, revealing the truth in "Mysteries in Music: Case Closed." See the review of Mysteries in the Music on CultureSonar.

Mercury Media llc

Neil Young Discography Grids $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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margin-top: 0em; } p.alignment-block-content-left { text-align: left; } p.alignment-block-content-center { text-align: center; } p.alignment-block-content-right { text-align: right; } </style> </head> <body> <div id="chapter-1" class="element element-bodymatter element-container-single element-type-chapter element-with-heading" role="doc-chapter" epub:type="chapter"> <div class="heading heading-container-single heading-size-full heading-format-full heading-alignment-flexible heading-without-image"> <div class="heading-contents"> <div class="title-subtitle-block title-block-with-element-number"> <div class="element-number-block"> <div class="element-number case-mixed">Chapter 1</div> </div> <div class="title-block"> <h1 class="element-title case-mixed">Not Just Another Day…</h1> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="text" id="chapter-1-text"> U.S. Marshal Stephen Monier arrived at his desk at approximately eight a.m. on Friday, January 12, 2007. This was going to be the fourth day of the trial for Ed and Elaine Brown of Plainfield, New Hampshire, on felony charges for conspiracy to commit federal income tax violations. The government had a very strong case, and the Browns were representing themselves. A friend sympathetic to their cause, Michael Avery, from the suitably named Outlaw Legal Services of Florida, was serving as a “paralegal.” He had helped Ed and Elaine prepare all their pre-trial motions. He was seated at the defense table to “advise them.” The Browns had rejected any representation by an attorney. It wasn’t going well for the Browns. Ed Brown’s spurious arguments against having to pay federal income taxes were rejected by the court, and his theories on the federal tax laws were shut down by presiding Judge Steven McAuliffe at several points. The government’s witnesses were showing that Ed and Elaine had stopped paying their taxes in 1996 and owed more than $625,000 in unpaid income tax. They were also charged with structuring, the intentional manipulation of financial transactions to evade reporting requirements. As was his custom on getting to the office, Marshal Monier checked in with the control room upon arrival and spoke with the two court security officers manning the cameras and other systems monitoring courthouse activity that day. All was quiet, they said. Marshal Monier and his chief deputy, Gary DiMartino, were both concerned about this trial. The U.S. Marshals Service (USMS) had deemed that the trial was “high risk” given that Ed Brown, a self-described “retired exterminator,” had become a leader in the militia group, U.S. Constitution Rangers. Membership in the rangers had grown in the aftermath of federal law enforcement’s attempts to serve arrest warrants at Ruby Ridge in Idaho and at the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas. Chief DiMartino and Inspector Brenda Mikelson had ordered extra courtroom security and intelligence gathering for the trial. They had ensured that court security officers were being extra vigilant in screening people involved with, or attending, the trial in the U.S. District Court in Concord, New Hampshire. Marshal Steve Monier and Chief DiMartino had worked together for the past five years in the District of New Hampshire. Chief DiMartino was a career deputy U.S. marshal who had risen through the ranks to become a chief deputy in the Marshals Service, the number two person in every one of the ninety-four district offices of the USMS. Deputy U.S. marshals are highly trained federal law enforcement officers, not unlike career FBI, ATF, and IRS agents. They apply for open positions in the Marshals Service, take written and physical exams, and are subjected to background investigations prior to being hired. They attend, and must successfully complete, the USMS Academy and other advanced training programs throughout their career. Gary DiMartino began his law enforcement career in a Rhode Island police department before applying for, and beginning, his calling with the USMS. Because he had served in several supervisory positions on both the East and West Coasts during his long tenure with the agency and had taught at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Academy in Glynco, Georgia, he was a highly respected and well-known chief in the USMS. Marshal Monier considered him a very qualified, competent, and professional member of the service and was pleased that when President George W. Bush had nominated him to become the U.S. Marshal for the District of New Hampshire, Gary was his chief deputy. Unlike the deputy U.S. marshals, who form the corps or “backbone” of the USMS, each U.S. marshal (USM) who heads the district offices of the USMS is nominated by the President of the United States and must be confirmed by the U.S. Senate before taking the oath of office. This has been the case since the U.S. Marshals Service was created in 1789 by the 1st Congress of the newly formed United States government. When the 1st Congress of the United States stood up the federal judiciary, they realized there was no agency to enforce court orders, apprehend offenders, or help run the court system. In the Judiciary Act, the 1st Congress created the United States Marshals Service, with each marshal in each district to be appointed by the president with the “advice and consent” of the United States Senate. President George Washington swore in the first thirteen U.S. marshals, including the first marshal of the District of New Hampshire, in 1789. The U.S. Marshals Service is our republic’s oldest federal law enforcement agency, with the broadest of authority in enforcing federal law and orders from the U.S. courts. For over 234 years, the U.S. Marshals have done everything from protecting the courts, to taking the census, to protecting the President of the United States. In the twenty-first century, their core mission is the protection of the U.S. courts, enforcing court orders, apprehending fugitives, running the witness protection program, finding missing or abducted children, and taking the lead on enforcing the provisions of the Adam Walsh Act to track and monitor convicted sex offenders. Congress and the U.S. Department of Justice made several legislative and administrative changes to how the work of the USMS was conducted over the decades, and in particular, in the twentieth century. Originally, each U.S. marshal could appoint his own deputies as needed, to carry out orders from the court. As David S. Turk, the official historian of the Marshals Service, noted in his seminal work entitled Forging the Star, “[L]ong after gaining their Old West reputation with personnel such as Seth Bullock, Wyatt Earp, Bass Reeves, Bat Masterson, and Heck Thomas, U.S. Marshals and their deputies followed a winding trail of transition.”?<a href="notes.xhtml#chapter-1-endnote-1-text" id="chapter-1-endnote-1" class="refnote-marker marker-format-roman-lower endnote-cue roman-lower-i" role="doc-noteref" epub:type="noteref">i</a> At approximately nine-thirty on that Friday morning, Chief DiMartino stuck his head into the marshal’s office and said, “Marshal, Ed and Elaine failed to show up this morning for the continuation of their trial.” It was a decisive moment in the long run-up to this point in the case of the United States v. Edward L. Brown & Elaine A. Brown. Their failure to appear was long feared by both Monier and DiMartino. Both had had uneasy feelings about this case, since the district court’s magistrate judge released them on conditions, at their arraignment on May 24, 2006, on the income tax and other charges. Among the conditions of release were that the Browns surrender all weapons to the USMS and the U.S. probation officers who would accompany them back to their Plainfield home. Further, they were to cooperate with, and report regularly to, the U.S. probation officers at the U.S. district court and appear at all future court proceedings. Deputy U.S. marshals and U.S. probation officers drove Ed and Elaine back to their home in Plainfield to remove their weapons that day in May of 2006. Sharp-eyed deputy marshals noted the layout of the Browns’ home on the property, took photographs, and later sketched out the interior layout of the home. This proved to be pivotal in what ensued in the continuing Brown saga. The deputies who went there also told Chief DiMartino that they didn’t believe Ed Brown had surrendered every weapon in his possession to the U.S. probation officers. The property, they reported, was simply too large and the house and outbuildings had too many places where firearms could be concealed. Within a few hours of the morning the Browns failed to appear for the continuation of their trial, the news got worse. The USMS learned that heavily armed militia members and supporters of Ed Brown had gathered at the end of their long driveway leading to their hilltop home in Plainfield. Judge Steven McAuliffe issued warrants for the Browns’ arrest on failure to appear. Initially, at the USMS and the prosecution’s request, the warrants were sealed. Chief Gary DiMartino counseled that the best course immediately was to call the Browns and convince them to return to court for the remainder of their trial. The marshal and Judge McAuliffe concurred, as Gary had carefully established a rapport with Ed and Elaine while they were detained in the Marshals Service’s detention facility at their arraignment in May. “I had faith in Gary’s ability to use his considerable communications skills to convince the Browns that they should return to court to finish the trial,” Monier reported. Instead of immediately attempting to arrest the Browns at their home, where Ed’s armed followers had gathered, he consented to Gary’s suggestion that he try and convince them to return for the remainder of the trial. Gary DiMartino spent the next three days talking with Ed and Elaine via telephone to do just that. The fact that the Browns took every one of his calls over that weekend was a positive. At one point, it looked like the chief would be successful and that both Ed and Elaine would return to the court on Tuesday morning. Elaine was more noticeably willing to do that given the chief’s convincing arguments that this was a financial crime and that they need not take this to any further level. Gary argued that it would be hard for them to continue to mount a defense if they weren’t in the courtroom to do so. The jury, he said, “will only hear the government’s side, and not yours.” As it turned out, Chief DiMartino was only partially successful. Chief DiMartino continued to speak with them directly over the phone throughout the weekend and into the day on Monday, which was a holiday. On Tuesday morning, January 16th, Gary had brokered the return of the Browns for the remainder of their trial. Elaine Brown got into the car to return to the courthouse in Concord. At the last minute, however, Ed demurred and refused to get in the car. This was a partial victory for the Marshals Service. While it isolated Ed Brown from Elaine, Ed was not alone. He was left with some die-hard armed militia supporters who shared his belief about the “corruption of the federal government.” Soon thereafter, others joined the group, including members of the “Free State” movement in New Hampshire who, while not professing violence themselves, joined in the discussion about the “overreach” of the federal government into the lives of ordinary Americans. A select number of the New Hampshire Free Staters, who preached an extreme form of libertarianism, supported the Browns. In a letter posted on the internet shortly after Ed Brown’s public announcement that he would not be returning for the remainder of his trial, New Hampshire native William D. Miller wrote on a blog posting, “I am going to see Judge McAuliffe and U.S. Attorney Colantuono and various other officials hanged for treason for these actions.” In response, the U.S. Marshals Service issued a “be on the look-out” (BOLO) to area law enforcement in an attempt to locate Miller. Miller, a New Hampshire resident who was living in Florida at the time, had a history of local law enforcement contacts. He was also an early disciple of Ed Brown and the Constitution Rangers and had been one of Ed’s followers for some time. When Bill Miller learned of the trial, and Ed’s vow to fight any attempt to force him to return to the courtroom, Miller got in his car and drove nonstop from Florida “to protect Brown” at all costs. Miller was armed and ready to take on the role of “chief of staff” to Ed Brown when he arrived in Plainfield, New Hampshire, twenty-four hours later. With Miller’s help initially, Brown made use of the internet, emails, blog postings, and media interviews almost immediately upon deciding that he was going to fight any attempts to arrest him or force him from his property. “I will defend my property, and I am willing to die before going to jail…” Ed Brown told his followers. Apparently, Ed had concluded that he and Elaine were likely to be convicted at the conclusion of the trial. He was publicly critical of Judge McAuliffe and his rulings and, in interviews with the gathering media, called it a “kangaroo court.” Word was quickly spreading through the militia, U.S. Constitution Rangers, and the sovereign citizen communities that things were heating up in Plainfield. Comments on blogging websites and emails about the federal government unfairly targeting the Browns were spreading hourly. Supporters were calling for all good patriots to stand up for them. One message being spread on anti-government websites was titled, “Will Plainfield be another Waco?” Local and state media also began covering the Ed and Elaine Brown story. The NH Union Leader, New Hampshire’s only statewide newspaper, and the Concord Monitor, published in New Hampshire’s capital and widely distributed, and the Valley News (covering the Hanover, Lebanon, and Plainfield region) all took note. The marshal and chief assigned a deputy, who was particularly adept at high tech, IT, and the internet, to begin monitoring all activities related to the Browns. In a call to HQ, they asked that the Investigative Services Division (ISD) and the Intel Unit do the same. On January 12, 2007, Margot Sanger-Katz, a reporter for the Concord Monitor (a prominent New Hampshire newspaper covering the capital city region) wrote one of her first news stories about the Browns’ trial when she reported on the first two days of it. The trial had already gained a local interest amongst the state’s papers and the statewide ABC-affiliated TV station, WMUR-TV 9, as supporters of the Browns demonstrated in front of the U.S. district courthouse. Dave Ridley of Keene, New Hampshire, a member of the “Free State” movement in the state, held a sign reading “Ministry of Torture” in reference to “government-sanctioned torture with taxes.” “That’s why I support Ed,” Ridley told the Concord Monitor. “He’s standing up to the federal government.” Ironically, Sanger-Katz’s article about the trial’s proceedings appeared on January 12th, the same day Ed and Elaine Brown both refused to return to the courthouse. The government was close to resting its case against the Browns after the testimony of the lead IRS agent handling the investigation and testimony from several postal service employees about the Browns’ habit of purchasing multiple postal money orders just below the $3,000 limit required for notification to the government of the transaction. According to the government’s witnesses, this “structuring” of money orders is a common method to avoid paying income taxes. Over a two-year period, the Browns purchased more than $300,000 in money orders. Ed and Elaine, according to postal service investigators, would separately each wait in line and purchase a money order for $2,800. At the close of the court’s proceedings on January 11th, both Browns told the court that they would begin their defense in the morning, and both told the judge that they planned to testify in their own defense. Both, however, failed to return to court on Friday, January 12th. On Tuesday, the 16th of January, 2007, the day that Elaine agreed to Chief DiMartino’s entreaties to return to court, she also agreed to have a court-appointed attorney, Bjorn Lange, represent her. Michael Avery, the paralegal, continued in his role and sat in on the plea negotiations between the government prosecutor and Attorney Lange. Learning of the plea negotiations, Judge McAuliffe agreed to postpone the couple’s trial for another day when it appeared that Elaine Brown would be willing to reach a deal with the prosecution. That is, if she pled guilty to the extent of her criminal liability and conduct. As a dentist, Elaine Brown earned most of the couple’s income. She also had been charged with failing to collect employment taxes from the staff at her dental office in Lebanon. The judge continued the trial for another day so that the government could calculate what they expected Dr. Brown would pay in back taxes and penalties and the terms of a prison confinement. Elaine was given until ten o’clock the following morning to make a decision on whether to accept a plea deal. If there was no deal, the judge ruled, the trial would continue with or without Ed Brown in the courtroom. Because Elaine had failed to appear on Friday, the judge ordered new bail conditions for her. He ordered Dr. Brown to stay with her son in Worcester, Massachusetts, and not to return to her Plainfield, New Hampshire, home. She was only allowed telephonic contact with her husband, and she was ordered to wear an electronic ankle bracelet so that U.S. probation officers could monitor her whereabouts. The Waco Branch Davidian standoff lasted fifty-one days. When both the Browns failed to appear on January 12, 2007, it set in motion what would become a nearly nine-month standoff, the longest armed standoff in the 234-year history of the U.S. Marshals Service. Would Plainfield, New Hampshire, join the lexicon of American history as another Waco or Ruby Ridge? District of New Hampshire Chief Gary DiMartino, U.S. Marshal Steve Monier, and USMS Chief Regional Inspector Dave Dimmitt were determined not to let that happen. </div> </div> </body> </html>

Steve Monier

No One Has To Die (Paperback) $18.95

On January 12, 2007, what began as a felony tax trial for Ed and Elaine Brown in Plainfield, New Hampshire, spiraled into the longest armed standoff in U.S. Marshals history. Refusing to appear in court and surrender to federal authorities, the Browns transformed their home into a fortress, drawing support from militia groups and anti-government activists nationwide. No One Has To Die offers an in-depth look at the tense and perilous nine month standoff that tested the resolve and tactics of the U.S. Marshals Service. Steve Monier, with contributions from Gary DiMartino and Dave Dimmitt, recounts the meticulous planning and tactical negotiations aimed at resolving the situation peacefully, against a backdrop of rising militia activity and public scrutiny. This compelling narrative dives into the Browns' extremist beliefs, the challenges faced by law enforcement, and the strategies employed to prevent another Waco or Ruby Ridge. Through detailed accounts and personal insights, the book highlights the importance of communication, patience, and strategy in averting violence and ensuring that no one has to die.

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} </style> </head> <body> <img src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0301/3604/1571/files/240919NobleSoundsCoverFrontFinal.jpg?v=1727194542" alt="" /> <div id="part-1-chapter-1" class="element element-bodymatter element-container-single element-type-chapter element-with-heading" role="doc-chapter" epub:type="chapter"> <div class="heading heading-container-single heading-size-full heading-format-full heading-alignment-flexible heading-without-image"> <div class="heading-contents"> <div class="title-subtitle-block title-block-with-element-number"> <div class="element-number-block"> <div class="element-number case-upper">CHAPTER 1</div> </div> <div class="title-block"> <h1 class="element-title case-upper">JOHN COLTRANE</h1> </div> <h2 class="element-subtitle case-upper">“MY FAVORITE THINGS”</h2> </div> </div> </div> <div class="text" id="part-1-chapter-1-text"> <div class="alignment-block alignment-block-align-center"> <div class="text-block"> <a class="content-external-link text-is-url" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWG2dsXV5HI">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWG2dsXV5HI</a> </div> </div> John Coltrane cured my headache. I listened to “My Favorite Things,” and before the cut had finished, my headache was gone. Don't be surprised. People have made all sorts of miraculous claims for Coltrane's music; some even claim to have seen God while listening to Trane. This would have made Coltrane very happy, for that's exactly what he was after— nothing less than the vision of God. Coltrane, nicknamed Trane, didn't start his musical career looking for God. He just wanted to play music. The Vision appeared later. First came the years of struggle. Trane, by jazz standards, was a slow developer. Many who believe he was one of the greatest jazz musicians (if not the greatest) forget how many years it took him to master his art. He was almost 30 years old before most people heard of him, when he joined the Miles Davis Quintet in 1955. A musician who decides on a life in jazz is like the monk who dedicates his life to unending prayer and takes a vow of poverty. You hear about gold records ($1 million in sales), platinum (one million units), and even multi-platinum. A jazz album is a big hit if it moves 10,000 units. And jazz gigs are so few that most musicians have day jobs—sometimes as music teachers but often any sort of work they can get. If they strike it lucky, they might be offered a fairly steady job in a club but often they take whatever there is. A fellow sax player walking into a club in Philadelphia was horrified to see the very studious, shy, almost introverted John Coltrane “walking the bar.” This occurs when a musician, usually a tenor saxophonist, is supposedly gripped with such passion that he loses control of himself, jumps up on the bar and begins to honk and wail on his horn, head bobbing, eyes closed, shuffling from one end to the other, while the drunken patrons yell encouragement. No doubt, Trane needed the bread. Critics write about musicians as artists, which is fair enough. They forget these musicians are also out to make a living. Almost every jazz musician has had his time “walking the bar,” or its equivalent. Musicians say: “You got to pay your dues if you want to play the blues.” John Coltrane spent more time than most paying dues. He spent six or more hours a day practicing. If a musician friend came by his home to visit, Trane would invite him down to the basement to practice for a few hours. He would even practice in his dressing room between sets at a club. When you hear Coltrane and maybe think he plays like a man possessed, you're right. He was on a quest: first for Excellence, then for Beauty, then finally for The Love Supreme. If you want to hear Coltrane's Excellence check out the album Giant Steps or a number like “Chasin’ the Trane.” If you want to hear Coltrane's Beauty, I highly recommend “In a Sentimental Mood” off his album with Duke Ellington or “My One and Only Love” with singer Johnny Hartman. For his Vision, go directly to the album A Love Supreme, which I love supremely. I've taken the easy way out and selected his most famous song, “My Favorite Things.” I believe it illustrates Coltrane's excellence, beauty, and vision. Jazz has always taken music composed in another style and done something different with it—“jazzed” it up. “My Favorite Things” comes from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical The Sound of Music. It's a fine little tune and fits nicely within the context of the overall show, but does it really qualify as the all-time greatest Richard Rodgers composition? Coltrane turned it into a classic. He did this on three levels: sound, rhythm, and interpretation. The sound on “My Favorite Things” is—for want of a better word—haunting. It stays in your head long after the track has finished. This haunting quality comes from Coltrane's choice of performing the number on a then-recently acquired soprano saxophone. In 1960 when Coltrane's version of “My Favorite Things” came out, the soprano was seldom heard. Only a few musicians played it. The most notable was New Orleans jazz great Sidney Bechet, a contemporary of Louis Armstrong’s. After Coltrane, many sax players began using the soprano as a second horn. The soprano produces an “oriental” sound absolutely right for the trance-like meditative mood Trane wishes to convey. However, even before you hear Coltrane's soprano, the rhythm sets you up. McCoy Tyner (piano) and Steve Davis (bass) introduce the number in waltz time. But this is not your ordinary waltz. I had trouble convincing a friend of mine who plays classical music that “My Favorite Things” is really done in 3/4 time. Maybe she was expecting something by Strauss for students at the Arthur Murray Dance Academy. This is no Bavarian oom PAH PAH or Viennese DUM dah dah waltz. Davis on bass acts as the rhythmic anchor. He starts off accenting the first beat but not exactly on the beat. Sometimes he's ahead, sometimes he's behind. After the first few minutes, he moves the accent all over the place. Elvin Jones would probably rather poke a drumstick in his eye than go oom PAH PAH. No sir, Elvin does what he does best—cross-rhythms. He plays clear and for Elvin, known as a power drummer, rather subdued, relying on his cymbal and snare drum with some subtle bass drum accents here and there. Meanwhile Tyner lays out easy-going block chords (chords played simultaneously with both hands). The combination of Davis-Jones-Tyner creates a hypnotic meditative mood. Simultaneously they provide a fluid rhythmic reservoir for Coltrane to float in, pleasant musical waves on a calm, clear lake. And in floats Coltrane. He plays the first 16 bars pretty much the way Richard Rodgers wrote them. Well not exactly because Coltrane plays jazz so the notes don't fall exactly on the beat and since no one is playing on the beat; anyhow, it all blends together. Anyway, you know right off what you're listening to—“My Favorite Things.” And you also know right off this is no ordinary version of “My Favorite Things”; something special is happening. Coltrane is one of the most lyrical ballad musicians in all of jazz. He played only ballads he loved and had the ability to convey that love to the listener. Tyner-Davis-Jones does eight bars of what is now becoming hypnotic rhythm and back comes Coltrane for a repeat of the first half of this 32-bar song. In fact, you won't hear the second 16 bars of the Rodgers melody until the ending of Coltrane's version. After this second statement of the theme, Trane flashes some of his fantastic technique at you for 24 bars. Then two more repeats of the theme where he begins to unwind with a few flurries of notes at the end, after which comes another 16 bars of technique. All this, at its most elementary level, is building and releasing tension. You hear the intro in a minor scale with beats falling every which place and the tension starts rising. What is this all about, you wonder. Coltrane plays the melody in a major scale and you begin to relax. Then the minor scale and cross-rhythms—tension. Statement of the melody— release. Then Trane does some serious BLOWING—tension. Restatement of the melody— release. And so it goes. Coltrane turns it over to McCoy Tyner's piano. Tyner’s job is to put you in a euphoric trance. At one point Tyner plays the same right-hand note for 16 bars while his left hand keeps the chords going. Then 16 bars of moving off that note and returning: up and back, down and back, up and back, up and back, down and back. Tyner builds and builds with his blocks. Builds and builds; four and a half minutes building and building. You're in no state to ask what he's building to. You know he's building to something. Coltrane returns with a fairly straight run-through of the 16-bar melody. And then he lets loose with six minutes of the most beautiful sounds you can possibly imagine. Trane soars, glides, dips, climbs, circles. Flurries of notes, “sheets of sound” (writer Ira Gitler’s term): These come flying at you. Trane does some flat-out amazing interval jumps at triple speed. He plays so wildly, and so wonderfully, it is beyond my limited ability to describe these six minutes in words. I can call it a musical ecstasy. Only once during his solo does Trane restate the theme to remind you that this ecstasy is about “favorite things.” What favorite things? His favorite things. Your favorite things. The things you love. The things that have the most meaning in your life. Somehow Trane knows. And you know that he knows. How can he know? Elvin Jones, many years later, said Coltrane was “... like an angel on Earth. This is not just an ordinary person. I've been touched by something greater than... than life.” It seems to me Trane knows that although our favorite things are different, we all have our favorite things. And this unites us to him and to each other. And realization of this unity of us all is Trane's ecstasy. Finally he plays the entire 32-bar melody and ends it… slowly, beautifully. We come out of our trance and float lightly down to earth. What an experience—all 13 minutes of it. Now you know why “My Favorite Things” is one of my favorite things and how John Coltrane cured my headache. </div> </div> </body> </html>

Joel Strauss

Noble Sounds $16.95

Noble Sounds offers a friendly journey into the world of jazz and blues. Author Joel Strauss shares his love for these uniquely American musical styles, guiding readers through their rich history and cultural impact. The book introduces key artists and important recordings, helping newcomers understand what makes this music special. Strauss writes in a clear, conversational style that's easy to follow. He explains musical concepts without getting too technical, making the book accessible to those without formal music training. Personal stories and experiences add color to the narrative, bringing the music to life. From Louis Armstrong to B.B. King, readers will meet the legends who shaped jazz and blues. The book explores how these styles evolved over time and influenced other forms of music. Strauss also offers listening recommendations, allowing readers to experience the sounds firsthand. Noble Sounds is more than just a history lesson. It's an invitation to discover soul-stirring music that has moved people for generations. Whether someone is curious about jazz and blues or wants to deepen their appreciation, this book provides a welcoming starting point for exploring these enduring musical traditions.

Mitchell R. Stevens

North to the Caliphate (Paperback) $15.95

Former Navy SEAL Jack Landis may have taken on more than he can handle. While investigating a relatively simple slaughter of animals in Iraq, what he finds is an empty field with large pools of blood surrounded by mysterious scorch marks. It doesn’t take him long to conclude that the scorches could have been made by extremely powerful laser weapons. The resources it would take to build and deploy weaponry like that far exceeds what the Iraqis could muster. So the question becomes, who fired these weapons?Back in Washington, CIA Deputy Director Richard North is outraged when he is passed over for the top job, a job that he had earned. Lou Pendleton is a buffoon and political lackey and won’t be hard to disgrace. But North quickly finds that Pendleton isn’t as easy to knock off the top spot as he had thought. When scandal doesn’t work, North turns to more extreme measures, putting the United States and thousands of lives in harm’s way.Pendleton asks Jack to take on the responsibility for tracking down North and stopping him. This leads Landis to Russia and the Middle East, where he must rely on his training, instincts, and a network of allies, some more reliable than others, to navigate the labyrinth of clues to stop North from precipitating World War III.

Mark Arnold and Charles F. Rosenay!!!

Not Just Happy Together: The Turtles from A-Z (AM Radio to Zappa) $30.00

This is the full black and white hardcover edition. If you're looking for the color paperback edition, click HERE! It’s time to get “Happy Together” again! Discover the songs and the history of one of the most successful pop rock bands ever, The Turtles, who had many, many Top 40 hits including “It Ain’t Me Babe,” “Let Me Be,” “You Baby,” “She’d Rather Be with Me,” “You Know What I Mean,” “She’s My Girl,” “Elenore,” “You Showed Me” and of course, the iconic “Happy Together!” All of their Golden Hits!Authors Mark Arnold (Long Title: Looking for the Good Times; Examining The Monkees Songs, One by One and Headquartered: A Timeline of The Monkees Solo Years) and Charles F. Rosenay!!! (The Book of Top 10 Beatles Lists and The Book of Top 10 Horror Lists) have joined forces to cover the entire careers of The Turtles from their early days as The Crossfires, through their hit-filled years, into their break-up that led to most of The Turtles’ members joining forces with Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention, to Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan’s years as solo artists under the guise of Flo & Eddie, and even their forays into children’s records. Arnold and Rosenay!!! have reviewed every song and album, and interviewed many of The Turtles’ friends and associates along with most of The Turtles themselves, who have given startling new revelations that will surprise even the most hardcore fan.Open the doors to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and to your library to add this book. This definitive Turtles compendium is as unique as The Turtles themselves.

Mark Arnold and Charles F. Rosenay!!!

Not Just Happy Together: The Turtles from A-Z (AM Radio to Zappa) (Color Paperback) $30.00

This is the full color paperback edition. If you're looking for the black and white hardcover edition, click HERE! It’s time to get “Happy Together” again! Discover the songs and the history of one of the most successful pop rock bands ever, The Turtles, who had many, many Top 40 hits including “It Ain’t Me Babe,” “Let Me Be,” “You Baby,” “She’d Rather Be with Me,” “You Know What I Mean,” “She’s My Girl,” “Elenore,” “You Showed Me” and of course, the iconic “Happy Together!” All of their Golden Hits!Authors Mark Arnold (Long Title: Looking for the Good Times; Examining The Monkees Songs, One by One and Headquartered: A Timeline of The Monkees Solo Years) and Charles F. Rosenay!!! (The Book of Top 10 Beatles Lists and The Book of Top 10 Horror Lists) have joined forces to cover the entire careers of The Turtles from their early days as The Crossfires, through their hit-filled years, into their break-up that led to most of The Turtles’ members joining forces with Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention, to Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan’s years as solo artists under the guise of Flo & Eddie, and even their forays into children’s records. Arnold and Rosenay!!! have reviewed every song and album, and interviewed many of The Turtles’ friends and associates along with most of The Turtles themselves, who have given startling new revelations that will surprise even the most hardcore fan.Open the doors to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and to your library to add this book. This definitive Turtles compendium is as unique as The Turtles themselves.

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