A Partin History

My grandfather was Edward Grady Partin Senior. In the 1950’s and 60’s, he ran the Baton Rouge Teamsters Union. He and the national teamster leader, Jimmy Hoffa, plotted to assassinate Kennedy, and his testimony sent Hoffa to prison. I need to share his story, in order to tell another story.

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The Art of Keeping Secrets: A Memoir

1980 Rumors Too

I began writing a memoir, and I wrote the first true sentence I remembered as a child: Stevie Nicks was fine. (work in progress)

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References

References used for this work.

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jason partin fishing - catfish frog

The War on Drugs

Work in progress April 18 2020

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Prologue – OLD VERSION

Before the pandemic, I was writing a memoir about my time in high school. It began:

“The two FBI agents at my grandfather’s funeral asked us what we knew about the president’s assassination, and where Hoffa was buried.”

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The Plaintiff and the Defendant

The 1980’s a confusing time for my eight year old self. Fortunately, court records from the Louisiana 10th judicial parish give a more concise story. In 2019, I could read the court’s version of truth. I assumed the court records on the internet haven’t been altered, and this is what they had to say about my life in 1980.

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Annapurna and Bodh Gaya.

I learned more than I can say with words at a Thibetan Monastery in Nepal. I was in Kathmandhu teaching magic to a group of school kids who had lost their school building during an earthquake. The quake had killed more than 10,000 people, and happened as they were recovering from a decade long civil war that had killed dozens of thousands more.

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Frank Sinatra Has a Cold

This is copied from Esquire.com so that I could upload it to my eReader. I wanted to read and study while reading my own articles, and I don’t enjoy reading on a computer; I prefer either a book or the book-like reading experience of a modern e-Reader, with simulated paper that’s easy on my eyes, portable, and easy to use.

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Prologue: A Part in His Story

I can remember my grandfather’s funeral, just like I was there right now.

Two FBI agents are standing across the room from me. They believe he was behind the President’s murder, and they’ve been asking what he said before he died. They had called every day he was in his funeral home. I had seen him a few months before; he was old and weak from disease, but he was still a huge man, and he still knew how to use a knife.

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