Max Cantor

Max Cantor Inhaltsverzeichnis

Max Cantor war ein US-amerikanischer Schauspieler und Journalist. Max Cantor (* Mai ; † 3. Oktober in New York City, New York) war ein US-amerikanischer Schauspieler und Journalist. Max Cantor Kellner Robbie Gould ist der Bösewicht in «Dirty Dancing». Im echten Leben ist er Schauspieler und Journalist. Als er im Drogen-Milieu. Interview, Porträt, Filmografie, Bilder und Videos zum Star Max Cantor | cinema.​de. Serien und Filme mit Max Cantor: Dirty Dancing.

Max Cantor

Max Cantor - Alle Bilder, Filme, TV Serien und Fakten finden Sie hier zum Star auf TV Spielfilm. Jetzt hier informieren! max cantor buchenwald. Max Cantor war ein US-amerikanischer Schauspieler und Journalist. I don't believe it's an accident"and Max groped for words again"I don't believe that what happened to Monika was article source and the work of link person or a group of people who did not believe Seelenfänger they were trying to do. They were so outlandish that I would play them read more people. A unique and lasting tribute for a loved one. A Manson look-alike! Would you like to tell us about a lower price?

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His father was the theatrical producer Arthur Cantor. During Cantor''s trips to London with his father, Vidal Sassoon personally cut his hair.

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I mean, I don't believe Daniel. I believe that Daniel. Geeziz, this is real tricky territory for me, but I don't believe what Daniel told me over the phone.

Daniel insists that he's innocent of the crime, and I don't believe him. But the crime and the circumstances surrounding the crime are far more complicated.

And then he added slowly as he groped for words:. I'm not. In fact, they're chasing a couple of people.

Again Max answered in a voice that was barely audible. And then he added:. This story reads like the most unbelievable work of fiction that you could ever.

Max was vague and dark about the details, but he left me with the picture of a satanic ritual slaughter executed before an audience that watched as if the killing were some kind of performance art.

Not only did the audience watch, but the spectators then helped dismember Monika, cook her and serve her to themselves as well as to the derelicts in Thompkins Square Park.

At Rakowitz's trial afterwards, a witness testified that one of the homeless found a finger in his soup. I first met Max through a mutual friend at whose home Max kept me spellbound as he read aloud from a passage that he had just written for his book:.

The Smoke-In was scheduled for August 26, Several hundred freaks planned to gather in Washington Square Park. Organizers promised live music, free pot.

Daniel had a stack of flyers advertising the event. He and Liz distributed them in the Wall Street area one day. She accompanied him that morning to Manhattan District Court.

He was charged with criminal mischief, accused of trying to steal an American flag on July Fourth. Together, they got stoned before the session.

Afterwards, they wandered the financial district passing out the flyers to Yuppies and businessmen.

One who dressed as if he might have been a lawyer, said, "This looks interesting. Can I have a few more?

A clenched fist framed by an iridescent green marijuana leaf, was depicted in the act of shattering a syringe.

The campaign made perfect sense to Daniel. He was strongly opposed to narcotics. In fact, I'm organizing people to rob and murder and make disappearing persons out of heroin and cocaine dealers forever more.

He appeared ecstatic. A son of theatrical producer Arthur Cantor, the six-foot-one Max was graduated as an English major from Harvard in and immediately decided to become.

Max eventually won the film role of Robbie, the creepy med student who works as a waiter in a Catskill Mountain resort hotel, where he succeeds in impregnating Cynthia Rhodes.

The film was a hit called Dirty Dancing , and Max's creepy med student character set the movie's plot in motion. I think I'm a very talented guy but I'm also self-destructive.

I get in my own way. I alienate people. I'm extremely loud and noisy and I push too hard. I got a role in a TV pilot called Diner , which was written and directed by Barry Levinson, and I wasn't very happy with my work.

I have great ability and natural talent but I gave a poor account of myself. Levinson was displeased, too. Levinson thought I could have done a lot better.

And what did Levinson have to say about Max's performance? It was after striking out in Diner that Max, beset with anxiety and depression, turned his talents toward writing, started identifying with East Village types, fell in love with the Lower East Side and never looked back.

It was July Fourth, ' We went down to the Lower East Side, a couple in their twenties walking along and asking strangers if they knew of any apartments up for grabs.

All the supers were hanging out on their stoops. And somehow we wound up on Rivington Street at the Nada Gallery, this crazy place where all these people were doing this performance art thing, with everybody banging as hard as they could on tin drums with pipes and scrap metal.

It was deafening. You could hear it from blocks around, this tremendous, fucking noise, and I said 'What the hell is that? It's called 'School' sarcastically.

Those who don't like it would argue that it's a giant tower of garbage, basically. A lot of people look at it and they go, 'What a fucking monstrosity that thing is!

It borders on what used to be Adam Purple's Garden of Eden. Purple footsteps on the sidewalk also are what led Max to the Lower East Side.

We were walking away from the garden and we followed them backwards until they disappeared into the subway entrance at Broadway and Prince.

I thought, 'Geeziz, isn't that the weirdest thing! Why the fuck would somebody put purple footsteps going from the subway entrance to so-and-so?

By the time Max figured out why, it was approximately a year and a half later and purple footsteps started turning up all over Manhattan.

These were really nice ones, clean ones, with no drips. And they were obviously made by a machine. By a guy named George Bliss, a friend of Adam Purple.

This was after Adam Purple's Garden of Eden had been destroyed, bulldozed by a contractor hired by the city or by some Council group to erect a housing project.

George wanted to hide his identity. He didn't want to be known as a huge vandal. He's a cool guy. He's an artist. He's been involved with the Green Movement, the Bicycle Movement.

He just made the footsteps and if you followed them, this path of steps would take you to the site of what used to be Adam Purple's Garden of Eden.

And I decided to find this guy and I tracked him down. I investigated it. The Voice bought the story but the Voice never published it.

Subsequently, Max found himself walking through Sheep Meadow where he "bumped into this march, where all these kids were banging on drums and tooting whistles and waving banners and there was a squadron of police accompanying them and they went into Sheep Meadow and somebody threw a handful of marijuana cigarettes into the air and everybody started to dive for them.

And I said, 'What the hell is this? And it was just a great number of people sitting in Sheep Meadow and getting toasted.

And this guy, Mickey Cezar, who called himself the Pope of Dope, was among them and he was wearing a bishop's mitre, a papal thing, and he was very colorful and the whole thing was just amazing.

Cezar at the time, was operating a profitable "Dial-a-Joint" service, selling marijuana over the telephone and making deliveries via a fleet of bicycle messengers.

At this time, he was very well known among people who used his dial-a-joint services, but among the great majority of New Yorkers, he was a complete unknown.

I thought it was more interesting than investment banking, which is what a lot of other journalists do. As I sat in Sheep Meadow and watched, I saw that everybody was relating.

It was like a big interrelated tribal thing. Everybody knew everybody else. Clearly, there were figures who were accorded higher respect.

Everybody played a role and you could see that there were feuds and there were power struggles going on between this person and this other person about who was going to lead this amorphous movement either in this direction or in that direction.

Nobody was quite sure about what this movement was all about but it was certainly all about the fact that the political climate that we live in today sucks.

That things aren't right the way they are. That the world is not a fair place and that this country is run by despicable charlatans.

That's what this movement seemed to be all about. I wanted to penetrate this movement and understand who was who.

I don't know why I picked on it but I just thought I could really map this world and assuage my curiosity.

During Max's exploration of the Lower East Side, he discovered a place on East Ninth Street that called itself the Temple of the True Inner Light, a temple whose members worshipped drugs, which they referred to collectively as "the Psychedelic.

It said they give away free communion to the public with a non-controlled psychedelic. They came up with some sort of chemical that was not illegal, although I believe it now is illegal.

The point is they gave it away free to everybody who comes in. And everybody comes in from Jersey and goes, 'Hey, man, let's trip out at the temple,' except it's not a joy ride because they don't let you have it unless you promise to stay there for this however long harangue and this long harangue goes on for a very long time.

And you trip out but you can't just smoke the stuff and run outside and groove. You have to sit there and listen to their harangue, which is not entirely pleasant.

At least not for those who aren't 'enlightened. I'm glad New York has a psychedelic temple, even though I felt it was such a wacky, crazy thing.

They had this place they called the Anarchist Switchboard, where they would hang out on Ninth Street, a half-block away.

And one of the people I met there was Daniel Rakowitz and he carried around this rooster and he called himself 'The New Lord.

I asked him, 'You ever been over to that temple? You ever smoke that shit? The consummate actor, Max mimicked Rakowitz's reply, aping Rakowitz's voice:.

He was also a marijuana messenger. I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I had walked into this scene with all these rivalries going on.

I mean he was the zaniest, the wackiest, the most tripped-outedness, the kookiest of them all. This guy was really something. Dickens could not have come up with someone more outrageous than this guy.

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Those who don't like it would argue that it's a giant tower of garbage, basically. A lot of people look at it and they go, 'What a fucking monstrosity that thing is!

It borders on what used to be Adam Purple's Garden of Eden. Purple footsteps on the sidewalk also are what led Max to the Lower East Side.

We were walking away from the garden and we followed them backwards until they disappeared into the subway entrance at Broadway and Prince.

I thought, 'Geeziz, isn't that the weirdest thing! Why the fuck would somebody put purple footsteps going from the subway entrance to so-and-so?

By the time Max figured out why, it was approximately a year and a half later and purple footsteps started turning up all over Manhattan.

These were really nice ones, clean ones, with no drips. And they were obviously made by a machine. By a guy named George Bliss, a friend of Adam Purple.

This was after Adam Purple's Garden of Eden had been destroyed, bulldozed by a contractor hired by the city or by some Council group to erect a housing project.

George wanted to hide his identity. He didn't want to be known as a huge vandal. He's a cool guy. He's an artist.

He's been involved with the Green Movement, the Bicycle Movement. He just made the footsteps and if you followed them, this path of steps would take you to the site of what used to be Adam Purple's Garden of Eden.

And I decided to find this guy and I tracked him down. I investigated it. The Voice bought the story but the Voice never published it.

Subsequently, Max found himself walking through Sheep Meadow where he "bumped into this march, where all these kids were banging on drums and tooting whistles and waving banners and there was a squadron of police accompanying them and they went into Sheep Meadow and somebody threw a handful of marijuana cigarettes into the air and everybody started to dive for them.

And I said, 'What the hell is this? And it was just a great number of people sitting in Sheep Meadow and getting toasted. And this guy, Mickey Cezar, who called himself the Pope of Dope, was among them and he was wearing a bishop's mitre, a papal thing, and he was very colorful and the whole thing was just amazing.

Cezar at the time, was operating a profitable "Dial-a-Joint" service, selling marijuana over the telephone and making deliveries via a fleet of bicycle messengers.

At this time, he was very well known among people who used his dial-a-joint services, but among the great majority of New Yorkers, he was a complete unknown.

I thought it was more interesting than investment banking, which is what a lot of other journalists do. As I sat in Sheep Meadow and watched, I saw that everybody was relating.

It was like a big interrelated tribal thing. Everybody knew everybody else. Clearly, there were figures who were accorded higher respect.

Everybody played a role and you could see that there were feuds and there were power struggles going on between this person and this other person about who was going to lead this amorphous movement either in this direction or in that direction.

Nobody was quite sure about what this movement was all about but it was certainly all about the fact that the political climate that we live in today sucks.

That things aren't right the way they are. That the world is not a fair place and that this country is run by despicable charlatans.

That's what this movement seemed to be all about. I wanted to penetrate this movement and understand who was who. I don't know why I picked on it but I just thought I could really map this world and assuage my curiosity.

During Max's exploration of the Lower East Side, he discovered a place on East Ninth Street that called itself the Temple of the True Inner Light, a temple whose members worshipped drugs, which they referred to collectively as "the Psychedelic.

It said they give away free communion to the public with a non-controlled psychedelic. They came up with some sort of chemical that was not illegal, although I believe it now is illegal.

The point is they gave it away free to everybody who comes in. And everybody comes in from Jersey and goes, 'Hey, man, let's trip out at the temple,' except it's not a joy ride because they don't let you have it unless you promise to stay there for this however long harangue and this long harangue goes on for a very long time.

And you trip out but you can't just smoke the stuff and run outside and groove. You have to sit there and listen to their harangue, which is not entirely pleasant.

At least not for those who aren't 'enlightened. I'm glad New York has a psychedelic temple, even though I felt it was such a wacky, crazy thing.

They had this place they called the Anarchist Switchboard, where they would hang out on Ninth Street, a half-block away.

And one of the people I met there was Daniel Rakowitz and he carried around this rooster and he called himself 'The New Lord.

I asked him, 'You ever been over to that temple? You ever smoke that shit? The consummate actor, Max mimicked Rakowitz's reply, aping Rakowitz's voice:.

He was also a marijuana messenger. I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I had walked into this scene with all these rivalries going on.

I mean he was the zaniest, the wackiest, the most tripped-outedness, the kookiest of them all. This guy was really something.

Dickens could not have come up with someone more outrageous than this guy. He was very amusing and he was very personable. He had a joint burning round the clock and about after two or three days he gave me his phone number.

I called him and he came over to my house. He set his bicycle against my bookshelf there and he had his pack that he put down and his rooster was squawking in it.

This was like my very first interview. I wasn't even really sure of how the tape recorder worked. I kept picking it up to make sure the wheels were turning.

I forgot to slate it so I don't know exactly what date it was. Though I know it was the first week of June in ' He was talking about killing the cops.

I asked, 'Do you sell anything else besides pot? I laughed. I said, 'That's some pretty explosive shit there that you're saying, some pretty inflammatory shit.

They taped me November 7,' and he had all the dates and figures and he had this very complicated numerological explication of his birth date which, when he added the numbers together, added up to a certain number which he used to justify the fact that he was in fact some divine figure and he had the evidence of the supernatural of his divinity facing page in a German language edition of Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf, which he kept in his knapsack at all times, next to his rooster.

I wanna get a look at that. Let me check this out. Can any schmuck see it? But if you concentrate really closely, you can in fact see it.

And it is evidence of the supernatural. Other people have told me. I'm not the only one who can see it.

Then I don't wanna see it! Get it outta here! This guy is crazy! And I said, 'Well, fold it up then and put it away, put it away, put it away, put it away, just put it away!

Just don't harm it. Suppose I spill this coke I'm drinking on it? Suppose I accidentally spill this glass and it gets all over the picture?

But if ya did try and like harm it purposely in any way, I would have t'kill ya. Just look at it! And I said, 'Well, thanks a lot, that's great, see ya later, Daniel,' and I sort of packed him out of my house.

Max lived in a clean, neat and compact studio apartment not far from the Chelsea. When I was there, I found a well-chewed plastic pen top lying on his bed.

And there came a time when they had another one of these giant pot marches. They had them periodically. And there was one that year on August 26 and it was in Washington Square Park and bands were playing.

It was a very sunny day and I wondered where Daniel was. Why wasn't Daniel here? All these bearded hippies were hanging around and passing out these joints, huge, fat doobies, and I was thinking, 'Where's Daniel?

Why is he not partaking of this thing? That's all he ever talked about. He sold it quite openly. Less than a month later is when Max opened up his Daily News in his breakfast nook and spat his scrambled eggs across the room.

He went back outside to buy the Post and found Daniel was on the front page of the Post , too. Because his interview that I got with him was so outlandish, describing these visions that he had at the age of six, these incredible things that were happening to him and how he was going to take me under the wall and the experiences he had at the Psychedelic Temple.

They were so outlandish that I would play them to people. He just fits in down in the Lower East Side. That sounds like a loaded comment, but individuality counts for so much there that no one would even notice that he was a raving lunatic.

Like me, they just thought, 'Well, he's a raving lunatic, well, so what? Where else is he gonna go? This place was such a conglomeration of Dickensian types, that was why I was drawn to it.

But now it was all over the tabloids: Drugs! A Manhattan location! Tripped out Bohemianism! A Manson look-alike! A foreign girl!

Tabloid city! The tabs, dubbing Rakowitz as "The Monster of Thompkins Square Park," couldn't seem to decide whether he was employed as a dishwasher or a short-order cook.

As for Monika, they classified her as a "go-go dancer" who considered her body parts tasty enough to show them off at "a host of Midtown topless bars.

According to Max, Monika, like himself, was a person who couldn't get out of her own way, but she was also a very formidable personality with a strong spirit and powerful karma.

It was a horrible story, but I believed it. It added up. It made sense to me. It wasn't just like I was just pulling your leg.

People were making jokes about it. It definitely happened. And there was not one word about it in the media.

This murder had been committed and no one was apprehended for the crime until a month later. He cut her up and fed her to us in the park! These were not rumors coming up after the fact but before the fact!

During his trial, Rakowitz complained that his prison guards played a cruel joke on him by serving him a platter of bones for dinner.

In court, he threatened to squirt stagnant urine on the prosecutor, an attorney named Maurice Mathis.

Rakowitz kept interrupting the trial with what the New York Times described as "bizarre outbursts. I won't find fault with your verdict.

The prosecution has an overwhelming case against me. But I'll be getting out soon and I'll sell a lot of marijuana so I can bring to justice the people who actually committed this crime.

Smiling at Justice Robert M. Haft, Daniel offered to smoke a joint with the judge, too, but the judge waved him off with an embarrassed smile.

After the trial, the Post headlined the story:. In its encapsulization of what happened, the Daily News reported that Rakowitz was nabbed a month following the killing "after bragging of the kill and leading cops to a five-gallon bucket of Beerle's bones in a Port Authority baggage room.

A holdout app arently wanted to keep the case deadlocked because he needed the money. The Times told of Rakowitz testifying that he did not kill Monika but admitted that he "dismembered her, bleached and boiled the bones 'to disinfect them,' and hid them.

After rumors that a body had been boiled reached local detectives, he was questioned, and led them to the bus terminal baggage room, where he had left her skull.

According to the newspapers, Justice Haft afterwards told the seven women and five men on the jury panel:.

I'm sure you didn't know what you were getting into. I didn't know what I was getting into," he added, shaking his head. In the tabloids, Juror Valerie Holmes later was quoted as saying of the lone juror who tried to keep the panel deadlocked by holding out for the acquittal:.

Max, now writing his carefully documented and extensively detailed book, wanted me to be careful not to endanger him or any of his sources.

The entire piece was written from Daniel Rakowitz's point of view. And then I got letters accusing me of being a prostitute, a sonofabitch trying to make a buck out of the death of this young woman.

It was very upsetting. When it was all said and done and I sat back, I really began to see more aspects to it in my head. I know they're not happy about this.

Monika's mother is in Switzerland and her father is dead. This was a very conflicted woman who had unbelievable power that still reigns.

When you talk about what power she had when she was alive, what I'm referring to is emotional power.

People who are creative are very troubled and very troubled creative people have a great deal of emotional power.

I don't know if she was a particularly good dancer. Some people say, 'Oh, she was! But most people seemed to agree she was emotionally troubled.

I know she had a need to dance. Like I say, I don't know if she was a very good or a very successful artist but I think she probably did have a potential for being a very good and successful one, if she could overcome her emotional problems.

How does it manifest itself? I don't know. Let's put it this way: I believe that"again he groped for words"that somehow an effort was made to expunge her from the universe entirely, not just her body, but the whole fucking thing.

And it didn't work.

Max Cantor Video

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