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AGONY A MANHUNT:

The Search for Durkin

The Story So Far,

     by Kurt Komoda
     On August 25, 1997, I was on the phone with Ken Durkin, President of AaGG, Int'l and leader of the current movement, talking about the upcoming Philly Agony a Go-Go, when suddenly he acted as is someone had walked into the room. There was a long period of silence and, as I listened, I thought that I could hear Ken in hushed conversation with this mystery guest. After about a minute of this, Ken came back on and told me that he had to go get something. "There's this thing, it's wonderful. Stay there. I'll go get it." These were to be the last words I would hear from Ken Durkin's lips. He left the phone off the hook and left me, the ever gullible sod, waiting for three hours for him to return. He never did. At least I put it on speaker phone.
     Upon reaching his retreat in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, we found it empty. The lights were on, candles on his dinner table had burned down to their holders, the phone was still off the hook, and the Cocteau Twins' song 'Treasure Hiding' was playing in continuous replay mode on his CD player, somewhere deep within the labyrinthine basement below. Ken had left his keys on the table, next to his leather jacket, which also contained his wallet. There were strange scorch marks in several corners of the house, where the ceiling meets two walls. I had never noticed them before upon my frequent visits. There was also the distinct smell of vinegar in the air that seemed to emanate from the basement. It was there that we had to search, if for nothing else, than to shut of the music.
     Ken's retreat was an old colonial storage house that was used as a barracks during the Civil War. Its basement level was a veritable maze of rooms upon rooms. Ken had done a remarkable job of decorating many of the rooms' bleak stone walls with rich tapestries and bizarre twisted ironworks that represented what seemed to be an amalgamate of mythologies. Sunny, an expert in Agony a Go-Go history, informed me that they represented the various figures prominent in the Agony mythos that Uruguay Gumz had studied so fervently in his lifetime. Pieces of colored clothe were wrapped here and there around the black metal, as were beads and many diverse bobbles of varied value from different cultures. This collection of art, adorned wall after wall, room after room. I recognized the great serpent diety, Kattu, with his horrific head, a chaotic mass of swirling features, lit from within by a a bright purple fire. I saw a great painting of the wicked Penanggalan, vampiress from Malaysia with her distended bowels hanging from her floating head. There was a huge ivory triptych retelling the tale of our beloved Agony Man; first his deception into the hands of the Devil who had, in the guise of an Angel, promised his people relief from the famine and plague if he would carry their sufferings; next his damnation to eternal suffering and his horrid realization that his people would be given relief from their suffering only by way of a great disaster- here the eruption of a volcano, it's fire raining down from the skies in the form of imps and fire elementals, its lava a great stampeding heard of godless beasts, all of which were to wipe out the entire populace in a single night; and, finally, his acceptance to carry the burden of his damnation and his ascension to worshipped divinity through his well-intended yet ill-fated martyrdom. This triptych was surrounded by a great metal frame from which protruded numerous ornate candle holders, each containing the remnants of many different colored waxes overlapping one another. Ken must have lit candles here regularly. We continued on and descended further deeper and downward towards the haunting tune.

     We finally discovered the source of the music in a large octagonal room, 40 feet across and lit by a great green light of many bulbs, hanging from the domed ceiling in the center of the room. There was a great alter here, directly opposite the door, at the bottom of which was the CD player. The alter was made of some sort of black wood and surrounded by carnival running lights of all colors. The top of the alter was carved into the likeness of the Agony Man from the torso up, his arms outspread, his palms empty. The bottom of the alter was carved to look like draped cloth. On the flat of the alter was a jade plate, upon which stood a 12" tall doll of a pale, beautiful, slender woman wearing in an iridescent black dress, made from real cloth, and posed in an eternal pirouette, on one toe and with her right arm outstretched to the heavens and her eyes serenely closed. The model delicately spun on a silver circular stand, like a music box. The main face of the alter, against the wall, was comprised of a great oval mirror, shattered as if struck dead center. Upon closer inspection, I found, to my surprise, that the mirror had intentionally been cut and set to appear broken. A strange thing.
     On the alter, next to the spinning statue, was a stack of photographs of varying size and quality. Each one was of a tree, the same tree, from sapling to fully grown. Each photograph was dated. The first photo, showing a young couple holding hands and kneeling behind a small mound of freshly placed dirt, was dated September 12, 1955. The man in the photo was unquestionably Uruguay Gumz at about 20 years of age. The photos continued, one per year, each on the same date, and each showing the slowly aging couple standing next to the growing tree. On the photograph dated September 12, 1968, the girl is no longer there. In this picture, Uruguay Gumz stands alone. In every picture after this date, only the tree is shown. After 1982, the pictures stop until 1992, where there are five more pictures up until September 12, 1996.
     If Ken went off to take this photo, then he's done it before, and he's never disappeared. I don't ever recall him ever going off to anywhere around this time of year, so it seems strange that if continuing this series was his agenda that he would leave fully two weeks before he needed to, regardless of the fact that it is now almost two months since that date and he hasn't returned. The best lead we've had, however frail. We must find this tree.
     As the rest of my team gathered in the room, having exhausted their search, I looked around at the seven remaining walls. There are six paintings of the various Agony Mythos Goddesses, martyrs all: Satinka, Penina, Klesa, the conjoined twins Kisa and Nani, Lia, Nashota- all so familiar to me. Yet, on the seventh wall, directly to the left of the alter before which I stood, was an empty frame: the seventh Goddess. Without a word, I shut off the music, leaving us standing in unnerving silence. Sunny tells me that there is no seventh Goddess, only six.

And now, I open this emergency forum to you, our loyal patrons. In this way, we will be able to consolidate and organize all information and leads we have, in hope of shedding some light on our predicament and eventually finding our lost one. Information received will be filed in the order it arrives. If you have any suggestions, tips, or bits of info pertaining to the disappearance or whereabouts of Ken Durkin, I fullheartedly encourage you to submit them! We're counting on you!

(excerpted from a letter found near an exceptionally large, spotted mushroom in the forests of Philadelphia)
     I leave this letter as some kind of evidence of my continued existence; it is not an expression of a desire to be "rescued." Life is a collection of experiences, and many of them are painful and/or traumatic. I have always accepted this, and, in fact, have made the spreading of the Truth my reason for existence, at least in this incarnation.
     But I digress. And I have so little time. The pencil becomes more and more unwieldy even as I write.
     Who can know what a simple dinner invitation can lead to? Who can possibly know?
     Yes, I was invited to a simple dinner by a good friend of mine. I did not understand the repercussions of my acceptance; I merely thought it would be a good time to relax, enjoy the company of some close friends, and perhaps plan the next Agony A-Go-Go. I was wrong.
     This "friend" of mine led me into this specific forest, and we know that such wild places become harder and harder to find. I half expected to come upon an interstate or a mini-mall at any minute. This, of course, did not occur, and we walked in a gloom that seems endemic to any forest, a gloom that shuts out the sun and makes every noise magnified and malicious. As we walked, we passed between us a bottle of wine-- his possession. I had never tasted wine of such delightful lightness, and the bottle, with its illegible label covered in runes, was equally intriguing. Eventually, we stopped, and oh, reader of this letter! It was on this particular spot, the spot that you are standing on now, that I learned yet another shade of Agony!
     "My friend, where is the home of your cousins? We seem so far from any civilization."
     "Dude, it's like, right here," my friend replied.
     I looked around. All I saw was what you, too, can see. A small clearing, spotted with some exceptionally large mushrooms, perhaps half a meter high.
     My friend saw the perplexed look on my face and laughed. He then proceeded to kneel and yell into the mushrooms: "Dude, we're, like here!"
     Then, to my amazement and horror, the tiniest voice yelled back to him:
     "Well, come on in!"
     I looked at my friend. "I had no idea you weren't, I mean, you're not ... human, are you?"
     He just grinned and shrugged, and before my eyes shrunk in height enough to enter the mushroom.
     That was only a few moments ago. The wine, I suspect, is causing the same shrinking effect on my own person, for I am now holding the pencil with both hands. Soon, I shall be small enough to enter the mushroom and join my friend. How will we return to the world of humanity? I do not know. If I do eat with them, will I be forced to stay? Again, no answer. I merely enter blindly into a world fraught with danger, and I must leave this missive to let my presence be known. I can write no more.

Ken



                                 Submitted by Aronne, 02DEC97-2231EST

     Kenneth Durkin and I studied together for a semester at Yale. He was reserved in those days; An advanced student of just thirteen. Some say the television show "Doogie Howser, M.D" was based on his life. I know this sounds ludicrious, but it is true. Ken dropped out of school and later tried to get his associates degree in biology through a correspondence school. I know this because we kept in touch in the years following his brief stay. I was so inspired by his desire to rebel against his mentors that I soon left the Ivy Leagues and sought a pre-med degree from Miami University. I never did anything with the degree, but the wisdom bestowed upon me by Ken during our time together made it all worthwhile.
     I saw Ken last summer. He and I agreed to rendezvous in Warminster, Pennsylvania for a weekend. I brought my wife and daughter and together we met this very strange man, stocky in build, with thin blonde hair and a weather-beaten leather jacket. It was Ken. After cursory small talk and some memories (mostly fueled by my comments and his simple, reserved nods of recognition), my family left me alone with Ken for what seemed days. We spoke over cognac and brandy for almost twenty-nine hours.
     At the onset, I could tell he needed to share something with me. He was there to visit his former self, because he could not really graps what he once was. Truth be known, I seem more like what he would have become: an upper middle-class suburbanite with a sports-utility vehicle and a wife that brings home a larger paycheck. Ken looks more like a displaced youth, as though he stopped somewhere on his twisted path and made peace with himself.
     Ken spoke of a calling he had and this club he was perpetuating. The stress had gotten to him. Since there was no common agony-seeker, many came. So many parts of society were involved with AaGG that law enforcement agencies were tracking the club's movement. Ken felt footsteps and could not seek the help he desperately needed. I knew that day and night he was using me as a sounding board. He explained, "I just had to grow up too fast," and wept on my shoulder.
     Ken admitted to me he would not feel bad if someone took the reins from him. I think he was burning out. But, as bad as he seemed, he mellowed and then got happy again, and, with a crooked smile, thanked me for my time and went on his way.
     The next morning, my wife and I were pleased to find out that Ken had paid for our stay at the hotel, our rental car and a chartered flight home as well as a refund for our original airfare. It was mysterious and exhilerating at the same time to see my old friend and for some reason, I think I got as much out of our little visit as he did. Ken was a proud man with a strong facade when he met my wife and daughter, but then he crumbled into a heap of a man who had spent his last drop of life's blood continuing a tradition that was not his choice, but his duty. I may never really grasp the significance of this agony club, but I will take with me the memories of a man capable of being honest to a point of vulnerability and strong enough to dare anyone to exploit him. I love my college buddy Ken Durkin, wherever he is!

                        Richard Van Leuwen, 03SEP97-1254L

     Ken has disappeared,and I fear it may have something to do with the planetary alignment.Maybe he was given a special task by his Mentor-in-Agony,Mr. Gumz.
     No one really knows.
     But I feel that he must be found or else something of epic proportions will befall Agony a Go-Go and all connected persons. Maybe he is planning a special Agony Event,Something to take us all into the next millenium.Or out of it.
     I must go now,I hear the voices calling to me and I must do their bidding.

                    Bark, 03DEC97-2311EST

      I was walking in the wilds of New Jersey, following a little traveled back road. A car came up behind me, moving at a crawl. I turned to see a cab, a strange enough sight in the area, but the barely coherent cries of "Straight, Right, Left!" really scared me. As the car went by I recognized Ken Durkin as the passenger, gesticulating madly at the Driver's head.
     The next intersection was only a few hundred yards down the road ahead, and as the Taxi neared it I heard Mr. Durkin yell "Left, uh yeah, Left." The cab made the corresponding turn and vanished into the darkness. I was left empty and dismayed by the sight, knowing that Ken Durkin had been reported missing. Unable to call for help from where I was, I can only send this message now.
     Agony is helplessness.

                      Feather, 06DEC97-2023EST

I was sent this photo by an anonymous source. I thought Durkin had been located - but I have been busy with the study of the group known as the Withdrawn, a meld between the Agony Man and human kind. I am interested in the prenatal syrup that is given to the babies to keep this breed going. It has been all slow going. And then I get this in the mail. I analyze the info and see that Durkin has been apparently been in Twin Peaks. The letter was signed Zelig Durkin. This is a cruel joke and I am forwarding the copy of the letter to Uruguay.

                    Sunny, 07DEC97-1510EST

I hate to tell you this, Sunny, but Uruguay Gumz is dead. In fact, he's been dead since 1982! Surely you meant to say that you were sending it to the Uruguay Gumz estate, now maintained by Mr. Jeff Dyer, his loyal secretary.

                   The Editor, 07DEC97-2153EST

For the record, I would just like to say that I would be a happy man if Ken Durkin never shows his face on this earth, or near any other Agony event in my lifetime. While Ken may have started his life, and his association with the agony movement with good intentions, over the past several years I have seen him transform into an evil, bitter man obsessed only with his own self destructive pursuit of power and control over others in his life. I might add that I have personally witnessed his unusual cruelty manifest itself through outbursts directed at random women My personal belief is that these outbursts come as much from fear of the opposite sex, as someone scorned and soiled with bitter hatred.
While some may think my comments harsh, or teemed with a bit of jealously, let me just tell you that I have known Ken going on 10 years, and have been lucky enough to have received all of the kindness, and selected brilliant moments and philosophical and spiritual insights that Ken once offered this world. But no more can I look past the cruelty that this man has inflicted on many of my closest friends and associates. Mr. Durkin, it is time for you to leave this world, and if you ever appear before me again, I will be the one to make you suffer your own worst agony.

                  -Astroboy,08DEC97-0138EST

     I found this news story in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, December 12, 1997 about an incident on the 11th. I think you might find it interesting,,,
      CLEVELAND- Several police officers were called to a disturbance yesterday at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame involving a person claiming to be Ken Durkin, the founder of Agony-a-Go-Go, International who has been missing since August. Before the identity of the individual claiming to be Durkin could be positively ascertained, however, he vanished yet again. Another suspect whose identity could not be confirmed claimed to be Diego Maya, the founder of a competing nightclub chain, Agoniste, Ltd., who has similarly been missing since August.
     The incident began shortly after the Hall opened for business at ten o'clock yesterday morning. The man claiming to be Maya briefly argued with the man claiming to be Durkin. Although the cause of the argument remains unknown, several witnesses overheard the two men fighting about an exhibit from the 1950's.
     "I heard these two guys fighting over the Big Bopper," said Hall of Fame security guard Leon Hester, "the short greasy-haired one said that the Big Bopper died in agony. The burly one, that the police say may be this Durkin guy, he said that Big Bopper and Richie Valens were tragedies, but Buddy Holly died in agony."
     Big Bopper, Valens and Holly were all killed in a single-engined plane crash in January, 1957.
     The argument quickly became physical. As security guards separated the two, the man identified as Durkin shouted "Hey, hey, hey! S'cool, s'cool!" The men were detained by Hall of Fame security until police arrived. Patrolman Anthony Dvorak was first on scene. Dvorak said, "It was a fairly typical Hall of Fame fight. You know, people get into fights at the Hall all the time, especially over things like 'Young Skinny Elvis vs. Old Fat Elvis' or 'Lennon vs. McCartney.' Once, this guy who said that Ringo was his favorite Beatle was beaten to death, so we on the force know that a fight at the Hall could be serious.
     "Anyway, I took their names and ran them through the computer, " Dvorak continues, "and the computer says they're missing, both of them. I went back to Hall of Fame security where I left them, but they're not there anymore."
     Security Guard Hester, who was charged with watching the pair, said, "I handcuffed them to Ray Davies' ego. I turned away, and when I turned back, all that was left was the handcuffs."
     Police have no clues as to what happened to the pair. "Could be foul play, could be two men on a vacation. We don't know," said Detective Louis Schmeiser.
     Durkin and Maya have a long history with each other. Durkin was already a giant on the agony scene when he took Maya under his tutelage. (Agony is an under- ground communal culture dating back to the medieval era in which participants symbolically suffer for their crimes with music and dance. It differs from the so- called "goth" scene in that goths tend to be pathetic underacheivers.) After several years of partnership in Agony-a-Go-Go, Maya split from Durkin to form his own club, Agoniste, based in London.
     Durkin is 5 feet and 8 inches tall. He weighs approximately 220 pounds. His hair is short and ruddy in color. He wears glasses.
     Maya is 5 feet, 10 inches tall. He weighs 175 pounds. His hair is dark, and uses too much styling gel. He sometimes wears a goatee.
     Information concerning the whereabouts should be directed to Detective Louis Schweiser, Cleveland Police.

                        -Charles, 19DEC97-2119EST