Forced Landing By Day Dobbert(Continued from last month) In a two-seater Cessna chartered out of Ensenada, I was headed for the island of Cedros off Baja’s Pacific coast. A fishing boat was to ferry me further west to the uninhabited Islas San Benitos, bearing additional provisions for Bruno Vailati’s Rome-based documentary film company, awaiting
FORCED LANDING – Part One By Day Dobbert My two-seater Cessna, chartered through Aeortaxis de Baja de California, was late coming in from Cabo, later still leaving Ensenada for the Mexican Island of Cedros, 267 miles south off the Pacific coast of Baja. The plane’s cargo of fish first had to be offloaded, then
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Bip Attends A Dinner Party By Day Dobbert “Come…come,” he urged, waving us to him. My husband and I hesitated, alone at the stage door of the Chicago theater where the great French mime, Marcel Marceau, had just performed. A dauntingly long passageway led to his dressing room, but Marceau had heard us and stepped
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Oath By Day Dobbert Twelve-and-a-half hours after taking the oath, Denis Jones was knocking back his second beer of the day at O’Malley’s, a dingy working stiffs’ tavern on Avenue “B,” around the corner from his dump on East 6th. He’d stumbled out of bed earlier, but a pounding head had defeated him, and
Mooky And Music By Day Dobbert It was oppressively hot that day and dead quiet, but escaping the sun into my cool garden I heard an eerie rustling high up in my guayaba tree, then, lower down, a mad agitation of branches, then an unceremonious thud at my feet. Matted, filthy, and grey with
