MarxLennon's Gratuitous Image Page

Hi. I'm Emily MarxLennon. Eldest daughter of the great Jesse James MarxLennon. I'm here to set the record straight.

First off, I love my dad. I feel the need to say it because I'm forced to say some rather unkind things about him in order to give you folks an idea of what's it like to grow up the daughter of a very high profile person. Not that he isn't a pretty cool dad, but it's hardly been "Leave it to Beaver" around here. Especially now that he's decided to turn our life into the 'net version of "As the MarxLennons Turn."

In his last chapter, he made a crack about trying to take a picture of me. There's a good reason why there are no decent pictures of me lying around...I don't want my picture on his website. I'm a freshman at Kent State, and thus far have managed to avoid recognition as Jesse James' daughter. This suits me just fine, and would like to keep it that way.

Growing up with a locally famous father was not easy. Everytime I turned around, there were gaggles of bare-breasted women trying to get his attention (like the twins here).

By far the strangest thing that happened was the large, black man who was convinced he was the reincarnation of Billie Holliday. Dressed in drag, he haunted our house, and begged dad to put him on his local bands show.

He had a van with all kinds of sound equipment in it, which he would park across the street. The minute he saw my dad, he'd crank up the speakers and lip sync to Billie Holliday songs, while dancing on the roof of his van. Thing is, he really believed he was singing them, and he didn't care what time it was. The neighbors hated us. My dad would call the police, they'd lock him up for awhile, and then he'd be back. He was finally committed when he tried to kidnap my dad at the radio station. We never saw, or heard from him, again.

Finding someone to baby-sit us was never a problem. Finding someone who wasn't completely in love with my dad was. For reason's that escape me, young women adore him. When women talk about my dad, his voice is always top on the list of the reasons they love him. They should hear him when one of us does something he doesn't like. Somehow I don't think they'd find it particularly sexy. He yells. And yells loudly. All those years on the radio and all those public speaking engagements he's taken has given him an incredible ability to project his voice. He's ruptured my eardrums on more than one occasion, but I digress...

Babysitters. We've had some doozies. Unlike many radio personalities, my dad's never hidden the existence of my mom. Anytime he has some function to go to, he takes her with him. This necessitated babysitters for us when we were small. The FBI could have used my mom as a background checker. She was almost flawless in weeding out the young women who weren't more interested in gaping at my dad than they were in picking up some extra cash babysitting us.

Periodically one would get by her. One time my folks came home from some function or another to find myself and my two sisters pigging out on ice cream and cookies in front of the TV. It was about 2 a.m. Where was the babysitter, you ask? Upstairs, naked and asleep in my parents' bed. Her one dream was to sleep with my dad. Since the presence of my mom kind of prevented that, she did the next best thing. Needless to say, my dad wasn't the one to drive her home.

Which leads me to mom. Mom trusts dad completely. To my knowledge, she's never doubted for one moment that my dad is faithful to her. As far as I know, he's never given her any reason not to trust him. The two of them act like they're still on their honeymoon. It's kinda nauseating to be subjected to on a daily basis, but at least I never had to wonder if my folks were going to get divorced like some of my friends did. Maybe that's why my friends, and my sister's friends, always hang out here. Bare-breasted (or bare bottomed) women notwithstanding, our house has always been quiet and stable. That's due mostly to mom.

--I've been informed by my dad that I have to stop here, but I can continue on next week. So, next week I'll talk more about my mom, and reveal the latest tattoo craze in Cleveland. You guessed it...It has to do with dad.

MarxLennon's Gratuitous Image Page: The Front Page.