Blue Dogs and Slobs

I got up this morning and was absolutely bowled over.  I was greeted by a message from somebody alerting me to this.

Karen wants to talk about my uncle, my father’s only sibling.

I didn’t even know about all this.  It’s interesting, though.

Here’s my uncle’s obituary.

And here’s an article about the controversy she’s talking about.

Finally, here’s another article a year later.

I have been to the Sailfish Club exactly four times, if I am remembering correctly.  I even asked Dave what he remembers about going there to be sure I’m counting correctly.  My family did not have a membership, so to go there and eat, I had to go as the guest of a member.

It’s an experience.  When I was in nursing school, three of my school buddies went to Florida with me on spring break and we stayed at my dad’s place. During that visit, we all went to the Sailfish Club for dinner.  I remember that there were no prices of anything in the menu and that the wash basin in the bathroom was a huge shell. There was a live band and dancing.

Yes, it’s posh as hell.

This is me and my dad having a go at the dance floor. It’s not at the Sailfish Club, but rather at the Pinehurst Country Club in Pinehurst, North Carolina.  That was about 1983 or so.

I tried to find the photo and can’t, so I’ll let you imagine instead. See the steps there?  That’s the Sailfish Club.  When my father died, the entire family went to the Club for dinner after the funeral and then we had a family photo made on those steps.

But Karen is bringing all this up to stab at me about race.

Here’s the deal.  My father and my uncle were both Democrats.  Today, they would be called “blue dog” Democrats.  I never remember my father being particularly political, but my uncle was, and I know some of my aunt’s extended family was politically active, as in elected or appointed to fairly high positions in state government.

I have no idea about my uncle’s views on race, but I can tell you about my father’s.

He was racist to the core.

He was a child of his time and place.  He grew up in the racist old South, he was white, and my grandfather had established a relatively successful real estate and insurance business which ultimately employed and supported all three families (my grandparents, my dad, and my uncle).

If you were to go back in a time machine and visit my dad’s world, his world as an adult, my world as a small child, you’d see that the overwhelming majority of the white people around you were also “blue dog” Democrats and racist.  It was a fact of life.

I suspect that if you’d sat my father down during your visit and had a conversation with him about race, he would have been perplexed.  He really wouldn’t have understood his own racism.

When I was 13 years old (1962), my parents were divorced in large part due to my mother finding Jesus, and we moved without my dad to Greenville, South Carolina, where my mother plopped me into Bob Jones Academy, against my will.  It was also racist there, right to the core.

Two years later, I got the boot from the Academy, and ended up at Wade Hampton High School (the local public school in the same area) and guess what?  It was racist too, every bit as racist as Bob Jones ever was.

In 1970, I married a Greenville native, and he came from a family that was racist to the core.  He graduated from an area high school in 1959  and had several classmates whose fathers had been members of the Ku Klux Klan, complete with the white robes and dunce cap. They were proud of it.

I’m not sure what point Karen is trying to make here, except that she thinks that if she can point to one of my relatives, she can tar me with the same brush, the notion being that somehow if I grew up around racists, I am therefore racist too.

Well, there’s another person who grew up in a particular environment until she was about 13 years old, the same age I was when we left West Palm Beach.  Her name is now Cathy Harris.

This is a letter from the McIntire folks to Cleo complaining because they were having trouble getting insurance on the farm due to the fact that Cleo was a slob.  You remember that Cleo had sold the farm to McIntire with a lifetime annuity attached to the deal, so McIntire was responsible for the insurance.

But Cleo was such a slovenly housekeeper that the insurance company didn’t want to insure the place.

I read this and it reminded me of something.

This is a portion of an email that Richard Harris sent to Cathy in 2006, when she was begging him to let her move back in.  He refused her request.  The whole letter is here, and Cathy has repeatedly acknowledged that it’s real.

So what?  What does this mean?

Does this mean that because Cleo was a slob, Cathy learned slobbery from her and is also a slob?

Remember, Cathy may not have been related to Cleo, but she lived in her house under her care through all those young formative years.

Should we point to the obvious inept housekeeping of Cleo Smith and say, “See? Cathy got it from Cleo. She was taught to be that way.”  Is that fair or even reasonable?

What about Karen herself?  Her brother is (or at least was) the principal of Bob Jones Academy.  Does that make Karen automatically a BoJo?

Both Cathy and Karen went to Bob Jones University by choice.  Bob Jones University has a history of racism that rivals anything my uncle or father could ever have been guilty of.

Does that mean Cathy and Karen are racists?


A List of Accusations

This might be my favorite thing in the whole world.  A list.

Cathy made a list.

God, I love lists.

We’ll begin at the beginning.

First sentence:  That’s a matter of opinion.  I have been writing, first with a static website and then blogging, my personal opinions coupled with lots and lots of screen shots.  It’s up to the readers to decide if I am wrong.

Second sentence:  I give not one single fuck what “others have publicly published.”

Actually, the rumor was that Camille got the whole thing to go away, not you. Don’t take too much credit. She is the person that gave the impression of being powerful.

Your take on it might be correct.  I have no idea at all.  I just know that there was a rumor and that the rumor persists to the present time. Make of that whatever you will.

I’m going to say it again, Cathy, because you are slow.  I do not believe that Cleo Smith dumped boiling water on you, causing burns over 61% (or thereabouts) of your body, because you failed to please Bob Jones Jr as he watched Carl McIntire rape you.

I think that whole story is a figment of your highly inventive imagination. I also think it’s absolutely hilarious.

I do not believe you had Stage IV bone cancer, complete with bone-saving surgery on your arm (we’ll pass for right now about which arm it supposedly was), or that you got chemo almost nonstop for years, or that you were on experimental drugs, or that you had a terrible time because you were dying and what were you going to tell your teenage daughter that didn’t exist.  No, I don’t believe any of that.

I have no idea what occurred with the Canbys.  I raise questions from time to time. Tough shit, Cathy.  You go very, very public with your bullshit. I go public with my observations.   Funny how we’re not hearing much from them, though.

Oh, “codicil.”  It’s codicil.

Cathy, really.  You repeatedly said that you never laid eyes on those guardianship papers until July, 2017. That’s what you said, not me.

Except, of course, when you were bragging three years ago to Jeffrey about all your research and specifically mentioned those papers. You even mentioned that there was something wrong with the names.

You can’t come back now and pretend you didn’t concoct all this years ago.

If you think Richard Harris committed fraud, by all means, sue his ass.  Do it.  Quit talking about it and threatening about it and just fucking do it.  Your whole “I have an active case with every law enforcement agency in America” thing is getting really old.

This may be the best one.  That really chapped you, didn’t it?  You went bragging in your secret little groups about your fine speech to the Pennsylvania legislature and you never expected anyone to check up on you.

Cathy, I contacted all the senators that sponsored that legislation.  I clearly said so. I really did. All of them.  Nobody ever heard of you, and there were no speeches. Surely at least one of them would remember you if you ever had made such a lovely stirring speech, wouldn’t they?

I don’t even know what you’re talking about. As I said above, I contacted all the senators. You’ll need to be more specific.

I believe that Karen Nelson Lee may possibly be the most gullible person I have ever encountered.  She believes every word you say, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, and that’s really astonishing. Camille finally got sick of your shit, and even Maytag got the hell out of Dodge.  But not Karen.

Well, let’s consider this. It’s an absolute fact that you impersonated “Elizabeth Tozar,” both online and on the phone.

I also believe I’ve presented enough evidence that any reasonable person would conclude that you impersonated a GRACE attorney, calling yourself Beth James.

In addition, I believe that you impersonated Richard Harris, by calling yourself “Concerned Pastor.”  You’re the only person with the motive to do that.

You absolutely plagiarized at least one entire essay (actually, two if you count “Ed Tozar’s” essay on communism) and claimed authorship and have never retracted it.

Don’t you think Camille is probably old enough to handle her own affairs?

This is completely irrelevant.  It has nothing to do with me. Someone got publicly available documents in a totally legal manner and shared them with me.  I do not care about Daniel Flint.  And Lisa had nothing at all to do with any of this, no matter how you try to slander her.

Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t.  You didn’t want anyone to see them except the little bits you chose to share.  And when you did share bits, you claimed to have them “in your possession for years,” like you owned the originals. Unlike you, I don’t care, so I’m going to publish all of it. Every single piece.

The word is “exonerate.”

I’m going to publicize more information, Cathy. All of it.  Go after Harris if you like.  Be my guest. I’ve told you I don’t even know the man.  I have no connection to him.

And before you or Karen drag out something where I said that I knew people who knew him, yes I do.  Beth Murschell, for example, worked for Bethel.  She knew him.  I spoke with Josh Scheiderer at Bethel.  He knows Harris.  I’ve spoken with other people who know him.

That doesn’t mean I’m in cahoots with anyone, or being paid by anyone, or have any vested interest in the innocence or guilt of Richard Harris.

Does the fact that I was in contact with all the sponsoring senators of that bill in the Pennsylvania legislature mean that I am colluding with them, or that I am working for the employer they had during one summer while they were in college?

Seriously, this is so dumb it makes me cringe.

Present the “match,” Cathy.  Really, present it.  Exactly who did they compare your DNA with?  One of Lou’s brothers?  What did they do? Call him up and say, “You know, out of all the people in the entire United States, we think you might be a match with one of our missing persons. Will you give a DNA sample?”

Or did they, after you “found” the Canby family (which you bragged about knowing all about three years ago), did one of them say, “Oh, gee, let me be tested”?

Which Canby relative donated DNA for that testing, Cathy?  When?

No matter. You won’t answer any of that.  It’s sort of like the fake rape guy.  What’s his name, Cathy?

I don’t doubt they have memories of you.  What they don’t seem to have memories of is your mother, do they?

Well, that won’t be very hard for you to do, will it?

You know, since you already have my complete name and address and give it to anyone who wants it for any reason.

Should I do something like that with your Social Security number?

Photos From the Cow Pasture

No, this is not about Frances.

Yes, this is probably going to be boring.

Here’s the deal.  I have a boat-load of documents that were obtained from two places, the Bucks County Courthouse and the Carl McIntire archives at Princeton University.

I am going to be publishing all them. Every single page, and there are hundreds of these pages.

I am going to try my best to group them so they are easier to tag for the sake of Google.

Cathy keeps insisting that I am somehow trying to protect Richard Harris, a man I do not know, have never spoken with, and would have no reason at all to care about one way or the other.  If Richard Harris did something wrong, so be it.  Let Cathy go to court and prove that.

What she’s doing right now, though, is horrible. She is trashing him without presenting the slightest bit of tangible evidence that he ever did anything wrong.  She just makes assertions.  She says the guardianship papers are “fraudulent,” because she insists that Lou Canby was her biological father.  She offers zero proof that is so.

And even if it was true, that doesn’t mean Harris knew it.  Fraud involves intent to deceive. Richard Harris may have been wrong, but that doesn’t mean he knew he was wrong.

I don’t know and I don’t care, frankly.

What is absolutely true, though, is that Cathy is claiming she never saw those guardianship papers until last month, and she keeps doing that even though I showed that she claimed to have them three years ago.  She just ignores that.

So, in an effort to clear the air, I am just going to publish everything I have.  And then, if anyone, anywhere, gives a single fuck about any of this, the Google will direct them here.

This is a collection of photos from the cow pasture rally held at Cleo Smith’s farm in the summer of 1964.  More information about that rally is here.

Note:  This photograph above appears to show a different platform than the ones that I feel pretty sure are from Cleo’s farm.  There’s a wooden rail here, and the other (above it) shows a flat bed truck.  I am not convinced that this is the same event.

Below is the reverse of this photo.  There is that same wooden railing on the platform.  The original cow pasture rally at Cleo’s farm had nothing to do with dedicating an orphanage, but was about the FCC and McIntire’s feud with them.  And the original cow pasture rally occurred in the summer of 1964.

Yes, I know this is the same photograph, but there were two copies in the file. With this copy, there is also the back.

In addition, the researcher sent this clipping.

I believe this clipping is about the rally pictured in those last two photos, and I don’t think that was Cleo’s farm at all.

This is probably an error on the part of the researcher, but one that would be easy to make.

And last, there are two more duplicates, but with Cleo designated.

What Do I Have To Do?

This is so sad. It’s an example of how people just jump into a discussion and offer up their opinions without knowing what in the hell they are talking about in the first place.

She says she is confused.  She’s right.  But then, without hesitation, she says she believes that God is gonna get me.

. . . you sat back NOT being Christian at all.

That’s exactly right.  I did.

Because I am not Christian, Jackie.

I am really and truly not Christian.

Revisiting the Tozars

This blurry copy reads in part as follows.

2. That she was formerly known as Ann Elizabeth Tozar and Salina Catherine Smith, but now uses the name Catherine S. Harris, exclusively.

3. That the names of her biological parents are Edward John Tozar and Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle and their present addresses and whereabouts are unknown and have never been known by her.

Read more about this here.

After you do that, let’s go back in time a little bit.

Several years ago, Cathy Harris announced that she had found her biological parents. She said their names were Ed and Elizabeth Tozar.

There was a tearful reunion, none of it photographed or videotaped, however people seem to have donated so that Cathy could go.

There was also a sweet little Facebook page.  I’ve written about this very fake page here.   

You can read a bit of that page here.

I was very new to all this back then.  And I didn’t know then that people had actually spoken on the phone to someone they thought was Elizabeth Tozar, who spoke with a thick foreign accent.  It was so convincing that one woman refused to believe it when she was told that the whole thing was a hoax and that she had actually been speaking with Cathy herself.

As a result of being exposed, Cathy removed the Tozar page and offered the ridiculous explanation for her deception that she was just so abused and she didn’t have parents and she wanted them so badly that she made them up.

In fact, I was told over and over again that the fact that Cathy lied about the Tozar page was proof that she was telling the truth about her whole abuse story.  Lying was the proof of truth.

At any rate, the story, like her cancer, sort of went away.

But then, the Canby family offered themselves as a new sacrifice on the altar of Cathy’s delusions, and Cathy needed to rid herself of the whole Tozar thing.

So now they’re completely fake, totally made up.

Remember, I had no way of knowing, and still  don’t, if Ed Tozar was a real person.

It’s obvious, from the guardianship paperwork, that Richard Harris believes he was.  He also believes that Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle was a real person.  Note that there is nothing there that suggests that Dorothy Haegle was married to Ed Tozar.  In fact, the use of the plural “addresses” would lend itself to the idea that they were not.  It also would go some distance in explaining why Cathy was given up.  Single motherhood was sort of frowned upon in 1964.

This is the sort of thing Cathy, and often her silly mouthpiece Karen, harp on.

Here’s their logic.  I called Cathy out because she created a fake Facebook page, engaged in more than one deceptive phone conversation, and accepted donations for a fake reunion that never took place.  The Tozar page was fake. The Tozar marriage is probably fake as well.  The Tozars, as she portrayed them to be, were fake.  We all know this.

Most importantly, I produced evidence as to why I knew that the Tozars she portrayed were faked. Fake pictures, lifted from other Internet sites.  A plagiarized essay, altered by Cathy.  Phoney phone calls.

What she has now done is take these guardianship papers, which she has had, by her own statement, for at least three years (probably much longer) and declared that Richard Harris made up Ed Tozar and Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle. She offers no evidence whatever that this is the case.  She says that Lou Canby is her biological father. She offers no evidence to back up this claim. She says that it was proven with DNA, but doesn’t explain how that is possible since Canby died in 1977.  There is no mother, no explanation of any mother, not even any speculation about any mother.

But most importantly, she offers no evidence of any sort that Richard Harris was lying in his statement to the court. In fact, she says, without showing us, that there is a birth certificate that lists those two people as her biological parents.  Is there?  I don’t know. I haven’t seen it.  But she says there is.

And if there is, wouldn’t Harris have gone by that?  How would he know who was purported to be her biological parents except by going with whatever Cleo told him or whatever was written on the birth certificate?

She insists that the Canby family were desperately hunting for her, frantically searching and that Richard Harris lied to them about her just nine days before the court guardianship hearing.  But I find that very odd indeed.

First off, you have a family whose brother died in 1977.  They didn’t know he died.  They apparently didn’t attend his funeral. That’s terrible, isn’t it? Nobody told them.

Three years later, they finally decide to hunt for him?


They waited for three years?

Then suddenly, they are frantic?

This smells.  It smells rotten. I’ve been part of family estrangements. Probably everyone has at one time or another.  But I cannot imagine going for three solid years not knowing what was going on with my sibling and then after that length of time, feigning concern about anything.

One other thing is that she claims that they filed a missing person report with the Pennsylvania police.  But then, she also has claimed for years that the FBI and the CIA and Interpol and private investigators and God and everyone was on her active case.  Surely, during all those extensive interviews and reports and shit, she told those fabulous investigators that she had been known as Salina Smith, that she went to Upper Bucks Christian School, that she lived with Cleo Smith and that Lou Canby was also living there.  Surely.

She wants me to believe that all those law enforcement people were so god-damned incompetent and stupid that they didn’t even check the missing persons list, or if they did, they totally missed the name “Salina Canby”?

Did the Canbys visit Harris (or call him) and ask about Salina?  If they did, did Richard Harris lie to them?

I don’t know. It’s possible they did.  Maybe. But wouldn’t they have been asking about Lou?  You know, their brother? The one they didn’t give a shit enough about to even inquire for three solid years?

If you were Richard Harris, how would you have responded to such an inquiry? He had no evidence that suggested that Cathy was related to Lou. He had guardianship of a young girl who was the beneficiary of a trust fund. Were they after that? Did they smell money?  Did they think of Cleo as the “rich lady” that Lou worked for?

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions.  Cathy doesn’t appear to have any answers either.  She just makes accusations.

As I watch this, I keep circling back around to Ed Tozar and Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle.

Cathy absolutely, demonstrably, lied about them. She made a fake Facebook page. She plagiarized an essay. She kept talking about how she was visiting them.  She engaged in deception on the phone, pretending to be “Elizabeth.”

Somebody who does that is either a pathological liar or totally mentally unhinged.  She certainly isn’t a reliable source of any kind of information.


A Taste of the Tozars

I have more to say about the Tozars than Cathy ever did?  Really?

What follows is just a taste of the Tozars.  I got some of Cathy’s comments in various places about them.  And the stuff from the fake Tozar page is not complete, in part because I was just grabbing what I could before Cathy took the page down. Cathy herself, using her real name, is not present. That’s because by that time she had blocked me.

I present the Tozars, as created by Cathy Harris.

Notice how Teresa carries on with her apology? This is what you have to do if you offend Cathy Harris. Teresa understands that.  You have to genuflect and cower.  I don’t call her St. Catherine of Victimhood for nothing.

And this is interesting, as an aside. Cleo was not IFB (independent fundamental Baptist) at all.  But this was early in 2011. Cathy hadn’t gotten her terminology right.  Carl McIntire was a Presbyterian.

An interesting thing here that I want to point out is that “Ed” and “Elizabeth” have no friends except Cathy’s friends. They don’t appear to know anyone else on earth.

All these names that are tagged? Cathy’s friends. Some of them have wised up in the years since all this happened, and are no longer her buddies, but there are almost no names there I do not recognize.

See how Cathy uses “Elizabeth” to blast away at Richard Harris?  She uses the story that somehow “Elizabeth” and “Ed” went to Harris and asked about their daughter who went missing. And Harris lies to them.

Does this sound familiar?

Lara is talking about Jocelyn Zichterman. Cathy and Camille decided they hated Jocelyn and set out to destroy her, something they’ve attempted again and again since. I’ve experienced their wrath, of course, but I’m not the only one. And “Elizabeth” is all interested in this stupid shit.

I wonder as I look back at this if Lara feels betrayed by this. She apparently does not, since she has remained a leghumper.

Is there any reasonable person who would believe that a woman of normal intelligence who had lived in America since 1962 would be so completely unable to write English?  This, of course, is Cathy’s imagining of how an immigrant would write.


Before I continue with the saga of Cleo’s estate, I want to insert this little observation.

From time to time, Cathy produces a document from her past.  She tends to offer this stuff up as evidence of something or other.


Stuff like that check.  I went into this a couple of years ago at the link above, and then in more detail, recently,  when I got more information, here.

As I mentioned on that page, I got the files. I got the archival stuff.

Cathy thinks that Lisa Luthi got it for me, but that’s not true. Somebody else did.  But one interesting little thing: Cathy uses “lesbian” as a pejorative. She’s attempting to insult both of us.

This is a common claim they made, that I am somehow still a fundamentalist Christian.  But I would never use “lesbian” as an insult. It would be no different than trying to insult Deb by calling her a red-head, or Lisa by calling her retired.  Who, exactly, is exhibiting characteristics of fundamentalism, like homophobia?

But there’s more.

This is sort of typical. She says that she’s had these documents “in her possession for years.”

She implies that she actually owns the original document and it resides in her home and has for years. She never says where she got the documents. She just has them.

See how she puts up those photos like she has them?  Like they came out of a family picture album?  You know, memories?

It turns out that she doesn’t have the originals of any of them.

Here are my copies of those photographs she has above.

There are more. I’ll put them all up later.

The documents I have came from two places.  One was the Bucks County Courthouse. Those are all the papers from Cleo’s estate, the probate papers, the guardianship paperwork, her will, her death certificate.

And this was the source of the rest.

I have known for a long time that the McIntire papers were at Princeton University, but they are not online.  And there are, as you can see, 669 boxes of them.  Daunting indeed.  There has been some cataloguing done, but still it’s a task to go through them.

So my source arranged for a researcher to go through those papers and find anything related to Cleo, or the farm, or Bethel Baptist Church, or Richard Harris.  Some of the results include the paperwork regarding the farm agreement, but also include things like scribbled notes on the back of envelopes and handwritten memos and yes, photos taken at the cow pasture rally.

Those documents that Cathy provided above and says that she’s “had in her possession for years” actually reside at Princeton University in the Carl McIntire archive.  I know, because I have copies of them too.

Cathy has quite obviously done exactly what my source did, and gotten a researcher to go through those papers, or she went to Princeton and did it herself.

Now, consider this.  Would Cathy have gone to all the trouble to go to Princeton (or contact Princeton and pay a researcher) looking for papers about Cleo in Carl McIntire’s archives, and she didn’t bother to check at the local fucking courthouse?

I assure you that my source did the courthouse first. It was the easier thing to do, by far.  Any sane person would start there.

Furthermore, Cathy insists that she has filed police reports, and talked with the FBI, and has had this ongoing investigation for years and years. I’ve been told that I will be put in jail because I am openly doubting the story of a supposed federal witness in a current investigation.

But nobody went to the courthouse.

She didn’t know about the guardianship papers. She didn’t know they were at the courthouse. She didn’t find them. The police didn’t find them. The FBI didn’t find them. They’ve had years to do this.

Lisa and I supposedly knew about the guardianship papers before Cathy did.

Karen mentions it in the comment where she calls me a fundamentalist above.

Just so we’re not mistaken, here.  Cathy never knew about the guardianship filing until I posted the paperwork onlineShe didn’t know. 

Poor thing.

She’s senile.

She’s got Alzheimer’s.

Somebody needs to help her. Seriously.  She’s lost her memory.  She can’t remember shit.

The screen shot below came from one of the Manhater pages. The date on the file in my computer is September 8, 2014. That’s when I made the screen shot.

She’s taunting Jeffrey Hoffman. She’s talking about court documents.  She has been digging around in this for a long time, she says.  She found the deed transfer for the farm.  She has both Lou’s and Cleos’ death records.  She knows the names of most of their extended family members. Those sorts of records weren’t at Princeton University in the McIntire archives. Why would they be?  They were at the Bucks County Courthouse. And she had them, in September of 2014, three years ago.

But the best is highlighted in yellow.











Just For Daniel

I’m going to go through this one more time, just for Daniel Madera, because he’s almost as dumb as Karen Lee. They don’t get it.

Maybe I’m just not a good explainer. I have to consider that possibility.

But I frankly think they are just dumb.

Here’s Daniel’s hilarious little rant.

I’m not sure why Daniel refers to this piece as “particularly nasty.” I also don’t understand why, if Daniel bothered to read that piece, he didn’t get the point, but obviously he didn’t.

One other thing I’m going to nitpick about, and that’s Lisa.  Lisa didn’t “advise” me about anything.  She simply answered my questions about the use of straw names in real estate, and pointed me in the right direction to look up stuff about LLCs and why they were invented in the first place.  And really, you guys need to stop with the insinuations that Lisa somehow did something wrong and that’s why her law license is suspended.

On the little screen shot you provided it quite clearly says that Lisa has not paid her dues and that she has not met the CLE requirements (continuing ed).  Duh.  She’s retired.

Are you aware that former President and Mrs. Obama both have suspended law licenses?

I have a suspended nursing license.

I assure you that neither the Obamas nor I did a single thing wrong. We simply let our licenses expire because we knew we’d never work again in the field.  Or at least, I knew I wouldn’t. They, and Lisa, could reinstate their law licenses in a second if they wanted to, simply by paying the reinstatement fee. (It’s a wee bit more complicated than that, but that’s the basic idea. The exact wording and the exact series of steps to reinstatement are different in different states.)

Your insinuations, along with the insinuations that you are making regularly and often on your very public social media outlets about Richard Harris and everyone connected with Cleo’s estate in any way, are libelous.  Be aware of that.

But here’s the deal.

Daniel’s idiotic little scenario is not at all what I described.

Here’s what I said about it.

Prior to the establishment of the law allowing limited liability companies (LLC), people like Cleo often found themselves between a rock and a hard place.  If Cleo wanted to shield her farm, for instance, from being seized because a tenant in one of the Phildelphia properties fell down the back steps due to a rotten board and sued her for more than the property was worth, she could do that by incorporating the property in Philly.  So far, so good. Then if the tenant fell down the stairs, that tenant couldn’t sue for more than the Philly property was worth.

But incorporating would have created a problem.

Because the corporation was seen as a separate entity for tax purposes, that meant that when the tenant paid his rent, the corporation would have to file an income tax return and report that rental income and pay taxes on it.

And then when Cleo needed to pay Cathy’s tuition at the Christian school, and took some money out of the corporation for that purpose, that would create another taxable event. That money would be income to Cleo and have to be reported as such on Cleo’s tax return.

Double taxation.

What Cleo wanted was a way to limit liability and at the same time, make the IRS not “see” all those separate entities as separate, so she only paid income taxes once.

Nothing like that existed until 1977.

This isn’t even hard.  Seriously, it’s not.

Cleo was trying to limit her liability. Anyone who owns a small business today knows all about this. If you have any sense, you form an LLC for your business, so that if a customer falls and breaks his back in your store, your liability will be limited to the value of the business itself and any insurance you carry on it. The customer will not be able to take your business and your house and your wife’s new car and the savings account that holds your son’s college money.

That’s why they call it a “limited liability corporation.”

In practice, what Cleo did didn’t work out all that well, simply because the courts knew people did this and so did the lawyers and they’d just look and see that Cleo Smith paid all the taxes on that property and so Cleo Smith was actually the owner.  But it was the only choice she had at the time. Because it didn’t work very well, somebody invented the LLC.

If Cleo Smith had lived until 1995, she would likely have transferred all that rental property into one or more LLCs and protected it that way and then Cathy would have one more hell of a time trying to come up with something to accuse her about. But she didn’t.  LLCs were nonexistent before 1977 and even then, they were only available in limited places.  Cleo probably didn’t know there was such a thing.

We can argue all day about the morality of LLCs and whether corporations are people or not and whether Citizens United was a good decision or a very bad one and about whether or not corporate entities have skewed the legal system to benefit themselves and screw the little guy, but that’s a whole different conversation.

Cathy and her idiotic friends are trying to make Cleo into this terrible person that engaged in the most godawful shit you can imagine, based on almost nothing except Cathy’s overactive imagination.  She has implied for years and years that because Cleo used aliases, she was doing something illegal. She never says what exactly (except for her claim that Cleo ran whorehouses in Philly), but it was shady and bad, and therefore, everything else she says about Cleo has to be true.

Well, here’s a question for Cathy.

Exactly what did Cleo gain by using those aliases?

If her purpose was not exactly what Richard Harris said it was – to limit liability – what was the purpose?

What?  Be specific.  In what way did she defraud anyone, or hurt anyone, or do anything illegal?  Show me where it is illegal to use a fake name.  Show me the law.

What would have been her purpose?  How would it have worked?  Why did the probate court not bat an eyelash at the straw name thing?  Why did the probate court (as I’ll show later) question every little thing you can imagine, but never have a single question about those straw names?

Oh, and why did you bother with all those screen shots from here, but not bother to make the images large enough to be read?  You do that a good bit, don’t you?  You could just link here, you know, and it would all be available in nice big type and nice big images.  But then, of course, the newbies would come here and you don’t want that, do you?



Giving Away the Farm

We begin here, because this is the oldest information I have.

Note: there are a lot of images here, and many of them are large. I try not to do that, but I had to keep them pretty big so they can be read.

This is a public notice of a sheriff’s sale of real estate October 11, 1965, and I’ll get to that in a minute, but for now, I want to focus on the part I have highlighted.

Being the same premises which Cleo M. Smith etvir by Indenture hearing date the 29th day of September  A. D. 1950, and recorded at Doylestown, Pa. in Deed Book 980 page 328 granted and conveyed to Claire Malanee, single woman, in fee.

What in the hell does that mean?

Well, this is part of a legal description of Cleo’s farm.  In September, 1950, Cleo Smith and her husband, Carlton (that’s what “etvir” means – when this was written, Carlton was dead) changed the title to their farm from their names into the name of Claire Malanee.

A question arises as to whether Claire Malanee was a real person or a completely fictitious one. I think she was fictitious, but it really doesn’t matter. Regardless, she was a straw name, a place holder.

At one point, in 1952, the phone company tried to gain access to the farm set phone lines, and couldn’t find Claire, because Claire wasn’t either Cleo or Carlton. Claire was a mirage.

Cleo and Carlton did not cease owning the farm.  It was just titled in a different name. They most likely did this, back in 1950, on the advice of an attorney, and Cleo did this with all her other property as well.

If you haven’t read the piece I wrote about straw names, stop and do that now.

Keep in mind that for Cleo to have this farm in the name of Claire Malanee was not illegal.  It was not shady, or immoral, or anything.  It was more than likely something an attorney advised. In the end, it was probably unnecessary and needlessly complicated things, but that doesn’t make it illegal.

Carlton Smith died on March 12, 1954. A pedestrian, he was struck and killed by a car.

It appears to have been his own fault. The serviceman who hit him was not charged with anything.

So, eleven years later, Cleo, who ran the farm herself from that point forward, sometimes without any or little help until Lou came along, found herself in financial trouble.

As Claire Malanee, she owed some money on a mortgage on the farm.  And she got behind.

Notice that this is all made out against Claire Malanee.  That’s whose name the farm was in. That’s the straw name.

Cleo, as Claire, owed the Urbanis over $20,000 and the sheriff was going to take the farm and sell it to pay the debt.

Cleo was in a bit of a mess.

The year before, she’d hosted Carl McIntire on her farm for a big rally, the first “cow pasture rally.” This was the period when McIntire’s star was on the rise. He was becoming very famous, especially in religious fundamentalist circles.  And he liked doing rallies and stuff.

I have no idea and no way to know who approached who about the deal they worked out, but somebody brought it up and they talked. And they came up with a plan.

There’s the summary of it. And here’s the actual contract that they hammered out.

So basically, here’s what ensued.

To keep the sheriff off the door, Cleo gave her farm to Carl McIntire.  However, he also got the mortgage she owed. In addition, she got a $300 per month annuity for the remainder of her life and the right to live there, and work the farm for profit.  He was responsible for the taxes and insurance and upkeep. She was responsible for her own utilities and other expenses.

And in a sort of touching note, she wanted a memorial to her and Carlton after her death.  [Instead, she got Cathy, which just shows you how unfair life can be.]

Anyway, it was a pretty sweet deal.

This is the agreement they signed.  It’s a “fee simple deed,” which is something most of us are used to. It’s the way most property is transferred.  Notice the amount listed?


What is that?

Well, that is the approximate amount that an actuarial table showed that the Christian Beacon would end up forking over to Cleo in the form of that $300 monthly payment.  The agreement was an encumbrance on the property, something the buyer (the Christian Beacon) and seller (Cleo)  had agreed to, in the contract above.

And see the part highlighted?  Claire Malanee (who was Cleo herself) deeded the property over to Cleo Smith nine days before this exchange was done between Cleo and the Christian Beacon.  It was a simple name change, complete with a nice fee.  Notice that the mortgage (the one that Claire Malanee had obtained from the couple named Urbani) followed right along?

And this is interesting.  See the “witnesses”?  Notice that “Claire Malanee” was a witness?  The handwriting is almost certainly Cleo’s.

Neither I nor Lisa know why this was done. There is a notarized signature which would make witnesses superfluous. The only thing I can think of is that they wanted something signed by “Claire” to indicate that “Claire” had agreed to all this, so that nobody named Claire Malanee would show up two years later and put a claim on the property.

And one other thing.  Notice that the consideration paid was $1?  Wait. One dollar?  The first page says $79,200. That’s what I mean about it being an encumbrance. That’s the price that was owed, payable in monthly payments of $300.  One dollar is what exchanged hands on that day in November, 1965.

People do this sort of thing today, but it’s more streamlined and not nearly as detailed. They are called “reverse mortgages.”  They’re generally done with a bank. This was very like that, only done between two private entities (Cleo Smith and the Christian Beacon, owned by Carl McIntire).

And this is two and a half years later, 1969. The Christian Beacon had the mortgage re-assigned to a local bank, and got it out of the hands of the Urbani couple.

Once they did that, they began using the farm as a cash cow. If I felt like sorting through it all (there are hundreds of pages of documents), I could figure out how many times McIntire mortgaged that farm.  In addition to the original Urbani mortgage, I know he got a $25,000 second mortgage, and then in 1972, took out a $100,000 mortgage.

This all makes sense.

He was doing well financially in 1965.

In 1970, he played around with the idea of selling the farm. According to the contract he had with Cleo, he couldn’t do that without her written permission, but half a million dollars will buy you a lot of permission.

There are some other documents where people contacted McIntire who were interested in buying the place, and there was certainly a flurry in Maurice the Accountant’s office of totting up figures.  Most of it is boring, but here’s some of Maurice’s work.

Imagine the excitement that must have ensued when Maurice, who had listed the place as valued at a bit over $100K on December 18, got an appraisal letter written a few days later valuing it at $500K.

Nothing seems to have come of it, however, and I doubt that appraisal was rooted in anything more substantial than wishful thinking.

By 1972, McIntire was in trouble with the FCC. He lost WXUR in 1973, but he knew he was in a mess much earlier than that. And he started having his own financial problems. That’s when he borrowed quite heavily against the property.

By 1977, Cleo had gotten a bit soured on the deal. Looking at it from her viewpoint, she was facing a situation where she was getting up there in years (79 years old), Lou Canby had died in February, leaving her with no help on the farm.  She couldn’t keep the place up.  She seems to have desired to move to Philadelphia (which she appears to have done).  She only had two years left to live.

The earliest piece of correspondence about this that I’ve got is a letter dated August 4, 1977, where the Christian Beacon is offering Cleo a crappy little deal, which she quite sensibly did not take. They wanted her to pay them $50,000 outright and then they would hold a first mortgage for an additional $50,000, make her pay three years of back taxes (!!), and release them from the whole damn thing.  No mention is made of the $100,000 loan they got just four years earlier.  One has to assume there was a balance outstanding on it.

Cleo’s retort is here.  She offers them $60,000 after they pay off all the loans. She is obviously ticked off.  I have no idea what was entailed in “you have not kept your part of the agreement” but I’m sure it included failing to pay the taxes for three solid years.

This is Carl schmoozing Cleo. It’s basically bullshit.  The whole “this is the Lord’s money” is fundamentalist-speak for “I didn’t pay the taxes and I haven’t done what I promised, but it’s not my fault.”  And there’s a bit of gas-lighting going on, with the “This ceases to be an agreement between us in behalf of the Lord’s work” shit.  He’s trying to shame her into taking whatever bullshit offer he can get away with.

Undaunted by the religious jargon, Cleo turns it over to her attorney and lets him hammer out the details. Her offer rises, but she includes the taxes she’ll have to pay out.

See the word trust in quotes?  This is a smarmy son of a bitch.  She trusted him to keep his part of a contract, and at the very least, by his own words, he failed to pay the taxes for three solid years. There were other issues regarding insurance on the place that he was supposed to keep current and didn’t.  Yet he dares put quotes around that word as though she is not honest.

I don’t like this man one bit.


She finally upped it to $125,000.

I don’t know if this was fair or not. There’s not enough information here to make a judgement, but I do know that my instincts are to say that she was an old woman, probably tired and ill, and McIntire was a bit of a jerk.

The releases he is talking about involve the life tenancy agreement, the contract that Cleo and McIntire signed at the very beginning of this. Each of them had to release the other from the terms of the contract.

And here’s Cleo’s release. The copy I have of McIntire’s release is very similar, but unsigned, so I’m not including it here.

Ultimately, Cleo and the Christian Beacon, jointly, sold the farm to Bethel Baptist church for  $125,000 and each of them, Cleo and McIntire,signed a release from the life tenancy contract.

I don’t have the actual signed deed on this. But we do have this. It’s not signed, but I suspect it probably was finally signed, and I’ll show why I think that in a minute.

We do know for sure that Bethel Baptist Church ended up as the owner of the farm, and that this happened sometime during that two year period from Cleo getting the farm returned to her (1977) and her death (1979) because it does not appear as part of her estate.

We also know that McIntire’s big objection to all of this involved his obsession with how the money to fund the farm came from donations and it was the “Lord’s money” and so golly gee, he couldn’t just give it back to Cleo because profanity or something.

I suspect that Cleo agreed to the 25% higher price because they hammered out a deal where she would deed over the farm to Bethel Baptist Church. This would accomplish a couple of things.

From Cleo’s viewpoint, it solved her problem. She didn’t want McIntire to just lose the farm (and that is very likely what would have happened).  She wanted it all finalized, but she probably could not afford a $125,000 mortgage. That was just about the amount of her net worth subtracting the farm.  It was a lot of money in 1977, more than twice as much as the average cost of a home.

She was also by this time writing her will, and she knew she was going to leave the bulk of her estate to Bethel Baptist Church.  It only made sense to go ahead and sell the farm to them. It got the farm out of her estate and made everything easier (and that’s a relative term – Cleo left a mess to sort out).

From McIntire’s viewpoint, it meant that the farm stayed in the “Lord’s hands.”  He could save face.  He hadn’t just allowed it to go back into private hands. He’d been a good steward, even if one who didn’t pay his taxes for three solid years.

From Bethel’s viewpoint, it was a very good deal.  The church sold the farm a number of years later for substantially more than they paid for it.

Here’s a letter from an appraiser at the Pennsylvania Department of Revenue, during the period when Cleo’s estate was being probated. She makes it clear that the Christian Beacon and Cleo sold the farm to Bethel.

And here, in its entirety, is the title insurance company’s report on the property. This would have accompanied the sale.

Take special notice of this page above. This is the life tenancy agreement that Cleo had with the Christian Beacon, which was terminated prior to this sale. I realize it’s hard to read, but it’s not impossible.

So, to summarize.

Cleo entered into a life tenancy contract (sort of a reverse mortgage) on her farm with the Christian Beacon in 1965. By 1977, she wanted out.  She and McIntire hammered out a deal and sold the property to Bethel Baptist Church. This is why the farm does not appear in her estate.

I will go into why all this matters next.




Cow Pastures

Cleo Smith first appears on the McIntire scene via the “cow pasture rallies.”  Carl McIntire was a flamboyant showman. He liked to attract the attention of crowds of people, not just in person, but he understood the idea of making the news and thus reaching an even wider audience.

There appear to have been two separate events that spurred him to have these rallies.

The first was in the summer of 1964, and it was held at Cleo’s farm. The cause then was the dreaded Communists.  Like Joseph McCarthy, who McIntire supported, Carl saw Communists everywhere.

The first screen shot here is from a biography of Carl written by two women, a mother and daughter, who were true believers. While mostly factual, as far as I can tell, it’s horribly biased as you can tell.

By Gladys Titzck Rhoads, Nancy Titzck Anderson

And here is the newspaper article advertising the rally, followed by a screen shot of the article on the page, followed by a close-up so you can see the date, followed by the name of the newspaper.

Further down in the article, you can see that Richard Harris chaired the committee that put the rally together.  This means that as early as 1964, before Cathy Harris was even born, Richard Harris, Cleo Smith, and Carl McIntire were already in cahoots.

Run with it, Cathy. Use it.  Look foolish.

So that one was in 1964.

According to this book, cow pasture rallies were also held in the summer of 1967, this time to protest the problems WXUR was having with the FCC. I do not know if there was one held at Cleo’s farm then, although I would bet money that there was.

All this makes this sort of disingenuous.

These photos are not “memories” for Cathy.  She wasn’t born until July, 1964.

So she wasn’t even born when the first one took place. I do not know if those photos came from the first one or the second one, although my guess is the first one.

And according to her story, she was kidnapped by Cleo (from god only knows who, since supposedly her “father” Lou helped Cleo do the deed) when she was three years old.  That would have been in the summer of 1967, which is when the second rally would have occurred.

Please imagine this, if you will.  During the rally pictured above, with all those people on the property, and folks most likely wandering in and out of the house (at least some of them), Cleo has Cathy locked in the basement.  And nobody heard her.  Nobody knew. She’d just been kidnapped and nobody knew.

But the major point here is that at least by 1964, Cleo was active in helping Carl with his ministry.

Next up is the story of Cleo, Carl, Richard and the farm.

NOTE:  The man’s name was “McIntire,” not “McIntyre.” If a man raped me during my entire childhood, I really think I’d remember how to spell his name.