Sickening
I’d like to begin by saying I’ve been an avid reader and Bollard enthusiast for quite some time. Last week I even grabbed The Fuge’s ass. But I just finished reading your latest cover story, “NPR’s Other Enemy,” and I think John Crosby is wrongly portrayed as merely misunderstood.
The combination of quotes from his threatening NPR e-mails and from the Bollard interview made me sick to my stomach. “I could never, probably, bring myself to stabbing somebody.” Probably?
Let me point out some similarities between this guy and one of Portland’s more infamous lunatics, Chad Gurney. Both Gurney and Crosby have recovered from near-death experiences, were avid conspiracy theorists, brandished deadly weapons, appear to have had a history of mental illness, have an affinity for Thailand, and are currently behind bars — where they belong. It just goes to show, you never know who among us is going to turn out to be a complete psycho.
— Amanda Pleau, Portland
Shallow
I’m disappointed in June’s feature article on John Crosby. While every person deserves some kind of forum in which to describe their own perceived injustices, as an interviewer you merely hit the record button and said, “Speak.” Rather than a true exploration into the lead-up and fallout of a federal crime, it seemed it was Mr. Crosby’s chance to tell the world that it was never really him steering his life’s course — that it was “them” and “they” who’d done him wrong. The real story was never contained in the folks who convinced him it would be easy to rob a pharmacy, or the advisors who encouraged him to seek work at the shipyard, or even the original baddies who did drugs around him.
I guess I wanted a push for even a small shred of accountability. Am I naively looking for real understanding and resolution from a desperate and miserable man? Perhaps.
I would hope that you, as an esteemed journalist, would pull a few layers back for those of us not in the room. I feel your readers have missed the chance to hear answers to questions such as: “You’ve repeatedly used unaccountable and deflective language concerning many choices you’ve made. You say your violent e-mails were ‘construed as a threat,’ you ‘regret that that was taken literally’ and, perhaps most alarmingly, when speaking about the targets of these threats, ‘they should be in jail.’ Isn’t the point that you emphatically threatened the bodily safety of two persons?”
Or maybe you could have tactfully asked for Mr. Crosby’s thoughts on the hypocrisy of his ideas about Americans who “fuckin’ poison themselves to death” and his eschewment of government and the military-industrial complex while voluntarily cashing their checks?
It seemed obvious that his most sacred attachment was to his son and daughter. Why not follow up on the comments concerning his desire to “teach them and guide them through this fucking horseshit”? Without patronization, you could have asked him what words he’d choose to someday explain to his daughter how he’d told a woman that she’d be “raped, beaten, tortured, and murdered very soon.”
Interviewing a subject with a wealth of knowledge and an eagerness to articulate it, this article had the nascent ability to illuminate so much more than just anecdotes from a narrow and narcissistic outlook on macroeconomics. I wanted more. I didn’t want John Crosby’s fucking excuses. The real story I saw shimmering just beneath the printed pages of The Bollard never materialized.
—Carlin Whitehouse, Portland
Sentimental
An old friend forwarded your interview with John Crosby to me here in Washington state. I grew up in Maine and went to the Portland School of Art.
John and Gene Crosby lived with me for a while back when John was only about 16. He was always an amazing young man!
He was artistic — music came to him naturally. He was so kind and thoughtful for such a young boy. I was in my early 20s at the time, but I tried to keep him safe and fed and in a house with love. I enjoyed having him around. He could always make you smile. If you were having a shitty day, just talk to Johnnie.
My ex used to call him Chum, I think because when John would describe something happening, he would say, “… and it went chum, like that.” It’s hard to write the expression, but I remember it was so animated when he said it. I never really understood it, but the two of them would always laugh it up! It became his nickname around the house: Chum.
The Crosby boys were handsome — long blonde hair, nice smiles. The girls always liked them. Considerate and fun, they were good housemates. I felt attached to John, as he was so young. His family was large and he left his parents’ house to live with his brother at my apartment. I never asked too many questions.
John grew up hard and fast, and I heard he was having drug problems a few years back. But I cannot believe that he is in jail. Over such ridiculous stuff? E-mail? Threatening? Really? Come on, NPR.
I really enjoyed your article and how much of his life and words you published.
-— MariLou Townes; Gig Harbor, Washington
