Naturally, this sentiment was unpopular among those involved in the change of Presidency in Cryovita, who again are (to a large degree) those who wish to see Carlos removed. The dilemma, then, was to determine who was reacting unreasonably: those who sought an independent capability for Alcor (at great expense; certainly upwards of $40,000), or those who wished to see the contract between Alcor and Cryovita continue, despite overt animosity on the part of the Cryovita management and shareholders toward Alcor's President. Is spending that kind of money justified when two complete sets of the necessary equipment already exist in this area? (One belonging to Cryovita, one to Mike Darwin's Biopreservation.) Is not spending that kind of money justified during a period when political differences have the potential to affect the outcome of a suspension? Kathy Leaf, Jerry Leaf's widow, also expressed concern about Alcor spending so much for equipment that already exists in this area. Her objection was based on her belief that due to the hardships she and Jerry endured during the Dora Kent saga (during which Jerry lost his job at UCLA, and hence most of his income), Alcor owes her compensation. She insisted that if we have the money to pay for new equipment, we have the money to pay her. I can say with certainty only that her desire for compensation is a controversial subject. It's possible that two or three of the Directors will be negotiating with her for a solution to the problem. I'm sure that this ground will be well-trodden during the weeks before our next meeting. Finally, Eric Klien suggested that the duties of the Patient Care Trust Fund Advisory Committee, of which he is a member, be expanded to include investment advice for the Alcor Endowment Fund as well. This suggestion was unanimously approved by the Board, with the proviso that the two functions be held separately. The meeting was adjourned.
Matters of Life and Death by Charles Platt I was driving on the Riverside Freeway at the moment when Michael Friedman was murdered in downtown LA. I knew nothing about him, then. I had flown in to Los Angeles that morning from New York City on a one-week visit to gather material for a book that I'm writing about cryonics. I didn't find out about the shooting till I went out for an early evening meal and used the restaurant's pay phone to call Mike Perry, Alcor's programmer and caretaker. "This may not be a good time to talk," Mike told me in his characteristically laconic style. "I have to spend a while putting labels on bottles. It looks as if we have an emergency suspension." Several months previously, I'd asked Alcor if I could help out at some future suspension. I wanted to experience it so that I could write about it authoritatively and convey to the general public the optimistic, lifeaffirming aspects. Now, by coincidence, within hours of my arrival, a suspension was about to take place just a couple of miles from where I stood. I felt a quick leap of excitement. And then, just as quickly, I felt a twist of guilt; because this was a tragic event resulting from someone's