oouDocuments on the International Campaign for Real History
Posted Thursday, November 26, 2009
© Focal Point 2009 David Irving
I wonder sometimes what it is that I am doing that is attracting these years of hostile attention, this Global Vendetta. I must be on the right track somewhere.
I notice that Michael Santomauro deliberately conceals his face in the several photos taken inside yesterday's meeting (above) at the DoubleTree Hotel in Times Square.
I drive Jae into Boston and we have a rather expensive but pleasant dinner at Anthony's at Pier 4 -- it is the first time in about twenty years that I have been there. I take the battery out of the Verizon phone at eleven p.m.
I have drafted a message to my friends whose stolen email addresses may appear on the enemy websites:We regret to say that our websites were destroyed by "enemy action" five nights ago at 6pm. The FBI are investigating. No credit card data of our online customers have been compromised.
We do apologise if the simultaneous theft of part of our e-mail account has resulted in your receiving unwanted e-mail attention; we encourage you to report any harassment or menaces contained in such messages to the police authorities, as these are federal crimes. Again, our sincere apologies.
Our concerns over the final talk locations are mounting.
November 18, 2009 (Thursday)
Boston (Massachusetts) - Manchester (New Hampshire)
Many friends are pestering me to start proceedings against the website hackers:I recommend that you get the FBI and other agencies involved, and publicize this felony as widely as possible, David. Your supporters, who have also been endangered and compromised by this outrageous breach of privacy, need to know that you are fighting for them also. The granting of your new visa suggests to me that this new [Obama] administration will be more supportive of any efforts that you might choose to make in that regard.
From seven to ten pm we have a nice crowd at . . . hotel in Manchester NH. Nearly all the chairs are filled, and there is no disruption. We refuse about five bookings of applicants, where we are not certain of their real identities.
I wonder sometimes what it is that I am doing that is attracting these years of hostile attention, this Global Vendetta. I must be on the right track somewhere, I believe. If I knew what it was, I would distil it, bottle it, and sell it like Mountain Dew. -- I have no appetite, and lap idly at a bowl of broccoli and cheese soup. The melted cheese congeals into lengthy strands which drape messily down my chin. Hey-ho.
I tell one friend: " 'They' now seem to be interfering with our Verizon mobile phone account. Crossed lines, wrong calls, etc.; I got a call from a guy who claims he is getting our calls, and vice versa. He too may be one of 'them' of course. And Authorize.net has cancelled our facility for e-processing cheques. No big deal, but they may cancel the merchant service account together next." [Prophetic words, as it turns out].
Larry M. urges me to dump APlus as my Internet provider: "It has had bad reviews for years."
November 19, 2009 (Thursday)
Manchester (New Hampshire) - Syracuse (New York)
I am surprised that the UK media have not leapt onto the story. The Germans have. I will get my own account up today as a Radical's Diary; problem is whether to reveal the whole fight in all its ugliness and risk frightening off future audiences, or play it down, "nothing happened," etc.
We set out for Niagara Falls and pause for the night at Syracuse after driving for six hours.
Links today include one celebrating the destruction of my websites and theft of my e-mail files: , and a jealous article by an Arizona Schmierfink headed Uberbabe, mocking my good looking personal assistant Jae 
November 20, 2009 (Friday)
Syracuse - Niagara Falls (New York)
I WRITE to Greg about his hawking his "Hitler" visor hat: "Not very nice of you to use my stolen mailing list to circulate details of your "Hitler hat" to them. I cannot help you further on that, I am afraid."
We arrive at Niagara Falls at around six pm, well after dusk, and I take Jae across the road to the Falls. She has never been here before. The droning thunder of the cascading water-masses is clearly audible from inside the hotel. It is bleak and cold here, and there is a light drizzle, and we find that the closer viewing sites have been fenced off "for the season". Never seen that here before. Supper afterwards in the usual Inn restaurant facing the Falls, but Jae is in gritty mood when I raise the thorny issue of her obstinately opening every box and setting out the contents every time on the sales tables, which has resulted in the boxes arriving this far in the worst state I have ever seen.Below: Canadian Free Speech activist Paul Fromm speaks to a section of the audience in Niagara Falls, New York.
November 21, 2009 (Saturday)
Niagara Falls (New York) - Cleveland (Ohio)
BY three pm the meeting room in the Hotel Niagara is full and we have to bring in more chairs; many friends have come over the border from Ontario -- thanks to the well-funded efforts of the Traditional Enemies of Free Speech in Canada I am banned from that country since 1992. Paul Fromm speaks fluently on that odd and deeply flawed anachronism, the Canadian "Human Rights Commission", and then it is my turn, to deliver my final talk on the use of decoded Nazi documents to write Real History. Nobody dies, and we are able to get back on the road very soon after our target time and we leave for Indianapolis. We make good going. Supper at eight-thirty pm just across the Pennsylvania border, then on, taking it in turns to drive the seven hundred odd miles to our goal.
November 22, 2009 (Sunday)
Cleveland (Ohio) - Indianapolis (Indiana)
Indianapolis - Jae's home town for the nonce. A nice crowd turns out here at five pm for my talk on "Rommel", with only a couple of chairs empty; Jim . . . is again mysteriously absent with his friends. Not the first time. A bit of a broken reed.
Jae goes off to spend the night with boyfriend . . . a nice guy, currently seeking a job in forestry (in Indiana?).Right: Der Spiegel serialised David Irving's biography of Field Marshal Rommel for five weeks. Below: Mr Irving speaks to friends in Indianapolis in November 2009
November 23, 2009 (Monday)
Indianapolis (Indiana) - Chicago (Illinois) -
A POOR night. I switched off the phone last night -- a good thing too, as in the morning it is full of cackling laughter, a woman calling repeatedly from two to four a.m., and other vain attempts to get me to pick up and respond (so the enemy can trace it).
I find a threatening voicemail during the night from a man at the phone number 857 204 3909, "We're not going away," he snarls. "You will not survive." Or words to that effect. They forget that I have Caller ID: they have of course committed a federal offence.
I send a book and DVD to an Old Timer, John M., of New York City, a 92-year-old veteran of the United States invasion of North Africa in 1942, who phoned me in New Haven. I tell him,So sorry to hear of your illness. . . We have had a tough time on this tour, and it will be a long before I forget it; but I will never forget the timbre of your voice and firmness of character that you showed during our conversation.
I hope to see you next year when I return, and I have certainly marked your name to call and see how you are getting on. I am enclosing a copy of my recently reprinted Rommel biography, as it covers the North African campaign, TORCH, in which you were engaged. I also enclose a DVD recording of my talks, so that you will not have missed anything.
I would shake your hand and give you a hug, old friend, if I were back in New York, but I am flying to England tomorrow. Hang in there, and I salute you!
Jae comes at eight-thirty a.m. to take me to a local dentist; but they want me to fill in three pages of questions just for a small cavity, forty questions per page, plus photo ID; so I give up. I prefer the toothache. Are they expecting terrorists to crash a 747 into their dental clinic, or what?
SEVERAL callers, wanting to come tonight to our little dinner in Chicago. No problems so far. A Jewish guest at my Atlanta lecture writes:You mentioned that what was said was not be be written about, so I have respected that. Indeed, I have respected all of your requests and never divulged beforehand where you were speaking to anyone who might help disrupt the talk. . .
I found it most interesting and important that you can document the killing of 2.5 million Jews at the four death camps on the Bug River [in Poland], plus mass shootings in Latvia and, as you recounted in your first Atlanta talk, the massive killings by the Einzatzgruppen as the Germans moved across Poland, Ukraine & Russia, as documented by the British intercepts.
It seems to me that "Holocaust Denier" cannot be an accurate and complete description of your views. This is a very important development, I think, and I am amazed that Jewish groups have not exploited your revelations to discredit the true deniers.
Robert Mountford writes to warn me against the fellow who is trying to sell the suspect "Hitler cap." He says, "What he has is a cap made by a well known replica uniform maker in Germany called Michael Janke. I know this because I too have the very same cap. He has been hawking it on two uniform forum sites."
I reply: "The owner was totally unable to authenticate the cap for me, so I refused to continue with the sale. When he used my stolen email list to hawk it to, I severed contact with him last week formally in writing."
At 1:49 pm, and not fundamentally unexpected, the last shoe drops, as Authorize.net cancels our credit-card merchant-services account. It does not take much brain to speculate who has put them under pressure.
- If you feel you have received this e-mail in error or have any questions about this termination notice, please contact email@example.com.
- Authorize.Net Abuse Department
I reply to them within minutes:Please provide specific details of the alleged violations, so that we can properly address these. We have had this account with your company for ten years and have had no complaints whatsoever of the nature that you allege.
2. Please forward to us any copies of said complaints so that we can consider taking legal action in defamation where necessary. We are the victims of a global defamation campaign.
We shall of course keep accepting credit cards, even if we are unable to process them until we can set up a new merchant service provider. [As of Thursday, November 26, 2009, Authorize.net have not even replied].
WE drive up to Irving Park Road in northern Chicago, after shopping in Michigan Avenue for presents for Jessica and B.. We are at the Edelweiss restaurant around five pm. The manageress, a formidable lady dressed in a green frock, is not helpful, and Jae soon crosses swords with the Eastern European -- not German -- waitress, a really nasty, waitress-from-Hell type.
We have slated the dinner to begin at seven pm. There are no Internet signs of impending trouble, but we have learned to be cautious. I reconnoitre the back dining area first: there is a steel emergency exit which appears to have been welded and padlocked shut; probably illegal, but good in the circumstances. Next to that is a little storeroom, with a door that can be locked from the inside. Even better. Our fortress, if worse comes to worst. I try pushing broom handles through the handles of the two swing doors leading back into to the restaurant; they fit, and this will delay any enemy invasion for a few minutes.
Jae calls my attention to a face with glasses [Nathan Hill, right] peering in through the window, and murmurs straight away: "That's them!" She has a gut instinct. Shortly, when she is at the car, she sees one nudge the other and point at her, and that certainly suggests she is right; but nothing happens.
Another burly man is present at the bar, having had a few drinks; he saunters over to look at the book table that Jae has set up.
Jae suggests I flush him out, and I sit three seats away from him, order a beer, and chat. He turns out to be John --, of Montana, his best friend is Rainier G., a millionaire expert on WW2, he says. He phones G. and connects us, and I realise that G. is Brian Fisher's friend in Las Vegas with whom I had lunch in May 1999. His wife is a daughter of Parteirichter Walter Buch, i.e. a sister of Gerda Bormann. It's a small, small world.
Paul B. arrives; he tells Jae of two suspicious types lurking outside in the shadows. Sounds ominous. Several people phone to learn the location, all trustworthy, and I tell them: 7650 Irving Park Road.
A call seemingly from a "California" number comes through. I pick up the Verizon phone: I can hear loud voices coming from the instrument before I press any button -- a man, then a shrill female, then the female saying: "I can't hear you. Are you there? Cough if you can hear me."
Not exactly a normal phone conversation, more like an overheard snatch of walkie-talkie - but very loud, as though it is right nearby. Bloody Verizon.
Jae decides, against my advice, to call the local (Norridge) police and ask them to look in immediately. Easy-going as ever, I think the evidence is thin. But I go out, and move the car two blocks away, and walk back clutching the [****] in my right hand, finger on the [****], in case they jump me. This side of the street, Norridge, the weapon is legal; the other side is Chicago, and it is not. Strange world, the United States: but it is the home of free speech.
Our guests are seated, and have begun ordering meals. Going outside again, to welcome our arriving guests, I see a man sauntering in the parking lot, looking into cars and speaking into a phone -- or is it a walkie talkie? I tell Green Frock, and she goes out to look, taking a man from the bar who appears not to be there just by chance. "He's one of our customers," she announces, smirking. False alarm, perhaps.
I am about to go outside again, with Jae, for a final look when she stops and says urgently: "They're here. Quick. Go."
I say, "Are you sure?" I glimpse only a string of heads bobbing in through the door. "Yes," she snaps urgently. "They're wearing masks. Get back," -- and she grabs my arm to steer me back. We hear shouting and turmoil. "I've left our valuables out," she realises. Too late. Too bad about our book table. "Your life matters more to me," she says. She has her [****] at the ready. She knows what we are up against: she saw these thugs at close range in Manhattan.
With her free left hand, Jae has flipped her phone open, and hits the police number: "We have that problem. Right now!" she snaps, sotto voce. Language a tad vague to me, but I hear the dispatcher calmly reply, "The police are already there."
Thanks to Jae's early warning, that is: it has turned into an ambush for the thugs. This is going to be good. They are ransacking and searching the restaurant, but can't find us. There are violent bangs as somebody starts kicking our door; Jae shouts through the door that she is armed and to stand back from the door. But now it is the management banging, shrieking hysterically at us to get out. That's nice.
The fat Czech or Polish waitress starts screaming at Jae, calling her a f*cking blonde bitch, but the restaurant is crowded with uniformed police who motion the waitress to get back. Great. The thugs have poured paint over the tables and restaurant staff, but somehow missed most of our stuff. That's what their bosses have told them to do, to inflict maximum loss on me, but the police got in first.
Some of our guests offer Jae extra for the few riot-damaged books, and ask me to autograph them. The thugs have left their big canister of paint left behind; the police take it away for analysis and fingerprinting. One of our guests has got the license tag of one car that the thugs have used: Illinois plate G189 059.
Our guests have defended the restaurant brilliantly. One says that having sat through September 17, 2000 and the Stefani's episode, this time he decided he was going to fight back, and picked up chairs and beer mugs to fling at the attackers. Another says he barred the street exit as the thugs tried to escape, and snatched the mask off one scrawny girl attacker. She screamed obscenities at him and punched him in the chest. "That didn't hurt!" he said with a smile, which unleashed another string of foul language.
Our new friend John, who has sat in to hear my talk, has been savagely attacked, and blood is streaming from a wound on his forehead (it takes twelve stitches at the hospital). Shortly we hear that the police have all the attackers under arrest. Even better. One has Colorado ID, most of the others are refusing to talk.
It is one-thirty a.m. before we can start heading south across Illinois. There is heavy fog and drizzle. I drive the whole way while Jae sleeps. She has done brilliantly again. Her instinct was right, and mine wrong. Eight thugs in custody, helping Chicago police with their inquiries, and they have not yet laid a finger on me. Fifty cities this year. Fifty to nil for Real History, a reasonable half-time score.
- A report by Alex Carmichael about events in New York City, both last year and this year, as seen from his perspective
- Chicago "Edelweiss" thugs identified, go on trial Jan 6 | notorious hacker among those arrested: we help US Attorney's Office
- Jaenelle Antas: page and photo gallery 2008-2012
- NOW ON ONE ENJOYABLE EASY-FIND INDEX: DAVID IRVING: A RADICAL'S DIARY 2005 TO 2009