Military Injustice
I found your article on Filipino war veterans very interesting ("The Invisible Veterans," July 16). I just finished reading a memoir by an American woman living in Manila during the war, and she wrote of the bravery of Filipino guerrillas and the summary executions of all those who were even suspected of guerrilla participation.

Sheila Quinlan
Hayes Valley

Dead to Rights
I don't know where Phyllis Orrick gets her information, but her statement concerning Keith Williams' crime that earned him death ("A Peep Behind the Executioner's Shroud," Unspun, July 23) reflects either a poor source or an attempt to twist facts.

Williams killed three people. Two were brothers. The other was the young girlfriend of one of the brothers. Williams drove her miles into the mountains and raped her. During the act, he shot her in the head four times so he could feel her death throes. That isn't sensational?

I was at San Quentin for Williams' execution as well as William George Bonin's. I plan to be there for Thomas Thompson's as well. I'll be the one cheering with the "KILL" sign.

James E. Crupi
San Mateo

Editor's note: Crupi is correct. SF Weekly regrets the error.

Juicy Tale
To Jack Boulware (and his editors) -- thank you ever so much for spelling my name correctly ("Flash on the Flasher," Slap Shots, July 30). For many years I have admired your firm grasp of fantasy and your deep personal connection to irony. You have defined a new course in modern journalism, and it is in this light that I'm especially appreciative of your continued respect for conventional spelling. Unfortunately, I find myself needing to correct a few small and inconsequential details that escaped your normally razor-sharp wit:

You claimed I experienced "a fit of alcohol-induced revelry." Au contraire, it was a very lack of alcohol that lies at the root of the evening's problems. "The swanky Hotel Rex" provided but one bartender for a crowd of 50 to 60 reporters, publishers, and fictionalists like yourself, each one crowded desperately around the poor, beleaguered bartender, loudly clamoring for his attention. (I probably don't need to note that this particular crowd is well-known, perhaps even notorious, for booze-guzzling on a heroic scale.) Prior to my encounter with San Francisco's thin blue line between peace and anarchy, I personally was able to enjoy but two of the Hotel Rex's pathetically meager $7 cocktails. In fact it was because I registered a mild complaint with said "tight-lipped desk clerk" that I first came to the hotel management's attention.

My second minor disagreement with your magnificent reportorial account regards an allegedly exposed member. Now I can't speak for every member in attendance at V. Vale's exquisite party but I, like Groucho, belong to no club. If perchance you are referring to my penis (it must be a slow day in Slap Shots hell for you to devote two fat, adjective-packed paragraphs to the alleged sighting of my modest appendage), it was never in evidence on the particular night in question. I'm not claiming that Mr. Johnson defies the light, I'm simply stating that your booze-soaked sources either had one too many or they had one over on you.

My last dispute with your account of the evening's entertainment regards the impression you leave your good readers with -- despite your inference, I was neither arrested nor was I asked to leave the party. In fact, you and I exchanged mild unpleasantries merely moments after I re-entered the party at the behest of aforementioned "tight-lipped desk clerk."

These inconsequential details notwithstanding, I'm most pleased to be featured in your fine column and honored to be the object of your considerable talents.

By the way, my magazine's name is au Juice (two words, capital J), a French-English amalgamation that translates as "with" juice, or if you will -- saucy.

Fred Dodsworth

Pay Later for Mission Bay
Thanks for the article on huge public subsidies to the Catellus Development Corp. ("Mission Pay," The Grid, July 23), which only proves, once again, that "free" enterprise works its miracles best when it has expensive access to the taxpayers' wallets. It's a lesson that never sinks in, as we learned in the last stadium-mall vote.

You missed two small details, however. Catellus does not "own" Mission Bay; the people of California do. The bay was granted to Southern Pacific in the last century only as a transportation easement and should now revert to the state.

It's also a geologic time bomb which will liquefy when struck by a seismic wave. The executives of Catellus, their lawyers, and Willie Brown can only hope that, like the developers of the Marina District, they will be long gone with the swag from the deal when the ghost of Mission Bay wreaks vengeance upon whatever they choose to build upon that toxic pudding.

Gray Brechin

Your story about public subsidies for the Mission Bay Project is correct ("Mission Pay"). Another sickening plum is Mayor Brown's blocking of the CalTrain extension to Market Street and the $400 million-plus extension of Muni light rail service to Mission Bay.

The foot traffic of thousands of train passengers connecting to Muni vehicles will create one of the most significant increases in value to the Mission Bay properties.

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