Who owns CrossCreek?

That’s thequestion asked inthe closing pagesof the book CrossCreek, about a

Central Florida village that servedas a famous woman author’s homein the 1930s and ’40s.

The answer, she writes, is that“Cross Creek belongs to the windand the rain, to the sun and the sea-sons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed,and beyond all, to time.”

But what of the bestselling bookitself? Who owns Cross Creek? Not tomention The Yearling, South MoonUnder, Golden Apples, The Sojourner,Cross Creek Cookery and The SecretRiver? — all works published morethan 50 years ago by the same Pu-litzer Prize-winning writer.

Do they still churn out enoughrevenue to maintain her homestead,now a state historic site? Were theyfought over by her heirs? Or, likeMoby Dick, have they entered thepublic domain?

Like the chain of lakes that leadto the writer’s home, finding the an-swer is complicated, but rewarding.

They involve the secrecy-shrouded University of FloridaFoundation; heirs, such as the step-daughter of the writer’s second hus-band’s nephew, who receive royal-ties; and blood relatives — including

a man the author almost adopted —who don’t.

When authors die, there is oftena dispute over their royalties. It’shappened in New York, where thebickering sons and daughters ofEast of Eden author John Steinbeckare suing one another. Closer tohome, in a St. Petersburg court-room, the only living relative of BeatGeneration chronicler Jack Kerouacis vying for a share of the On theRoad royalties, which now belong tothe writer’s widow’s brother.

But . . . what if the relatives don’teven know that the royalties exist?

■

“Jeff is . . . I would call him a ‘lostspirit.’ That’s how I’ve alwaysthought of him — the potential thathe had, lost to growing up in such adysfunctional manner. The pain —they say he had an accident whenhe was younger, and he was runover by a car here, twice. He’s beena victim of so many things in hislife . . .”

That’s Ray Majeski talking. Aformer police officer from NewYork, he’s the harbormaster for Sit-ka, Alaska, where Arthur JeffreyKinnan showed up one day, abouttwo decades ago.

Jeff is one of Sitka’s more color-ful residents. He’s been arrested atleast a dozen times, mainly for mis-

demeanors like trespassing or disor-derly conduct. Basically a street per-son who lives in the woods or onabandoned boats, Jeffrey has his de-tractors, such as the dog officer whoremoved his pets.

But he also has staunch allies,Public Defender Galen Paine andSitka Sentinel Editor Thad Poulsonamong them.

“He’s a sweet-tempered fellow,”Poulson says. “Acutely intelligent. Iremember him helping a lady whohad a jelly business. Jeff picked ber-ries for her.”

Paine, too, says that Jeff “isabout the nicest guy you’d want tomeet.”

But “I worry about him,” shesays. “I worry that he’s going to befound dead because he’s such atrusting person.”

“I think he had a head injury ofsome kind — one of his pupils isfixed. And he drinks too much. Buthe’s far from crazy. He listens to Na-tional Public Radio and gets booksout of the library.”

Jeff’s finances, she says, “aresomething of a mystery. He seemsto have money, just not enough toreally live on.”

Born in Juneau, Jeff was hi-jacked by his father at age 11⁄2 to Se-attle. It was 1952. Fed up with hislatest wife, Arthur Houston Kinnanboarded a train with the blond baby

See CROSS CREEK, 8D >

This toddler was almost adopted

by his famous aunt,

Florida’s best-known woman writer.

Today, 52 years after her death, thousands

of people still buy her books.

Thousands more tour her home in Cross Creek.

Her literary image is alive and profitable.

But not to him.

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By MARGARET McKENZIE ■ Palm Beach Post Staff Writer

Two-year-old Jeffrey Kinnanwith his father, Arthur Houston

Kinnan, in Seattle, December 1953.Jeffrey is now a 54-year-old street

person in Sitka, Alaska.

Anne RodgersOld Enough

The day Rozanne Gold turned 50, thefamous cookbook author was in India,but she returned a few weeks later anddecided to do something her late fatherhad very much hoped she’d do: give her-self a party.

It was January 2004, a perfect timefor new beginnings. Shereserved space at theonly all-women’s club leftin New York and invited35 women, all closefriends, to join her.

“It was such an im-portant night in ways Ididn’t even realize,” shesaid. “It honored my dad,and I paid attention more

closely because of him. And the 50thbirthday is so significant for women.”

Throughout the party and dinner,Rozanne was aware of a heightenedsense of spirituality brought on by hertrip to India.

Guests usually honor their hostess atsuch dinners by toasting her accom-plishments, charms and skills. Rozanneturned the tables completely on her

1-2-3 authormakes a stirin kitchens

See GOLD, 7D >

Gold

TAYLOR JONES/Staff Photographer

Cookbook author Rozanne Gold made Chileansea bass with a side of grape tomatoes lookeasy enough for anyone to prepare. Her secretis using just three ingredients.

Plastic surgery:Is it a possiblemigraine cure?

By SANDRA G. BOODMANThe Washington Post

During the 35 years she sufferedfrom frequent migraines that were so se-vere they made her vomit, Viera Bernatsaid she tried nearly every treatmentimaginable. She changed her diet, prac-ticed relaxation exercises and took astring of powerful drugs, from narcoticpainkillers to Imitrex, one of a class ofmedications called triptans.

‘‘Nothing really worked,’’ said Ber-nat, 62, a family physician who practicesin Solon, Ohio. Despite a high painthreshold, she said, ‘‘mostly I suffered.’’

Desperate for relief, Bernat tried acontroversial remedy: plastic surgery.

Nearly three years ago, as part of anexperimental study, Bernat had her fore-head lifted and her nose reshaped byCleveland plastic surgeon BahmanGuyuron. For several months before theoutpatient surgery, Guyuron had inject-ed the anti-wrinkle drug Botox, alsoknown as botulinum toxin A, into siteson Bernat’s face and the back of herneck to determine whether the paralyticdrug reduced her headaches. Based onthe results of those injections, Guyurondecided that muscles or tissue underly-ing those spots should be surgically re-moved to treat her pain.

To Bernat’s delight, the surgerySee MIGRAINES, 4D >

Leslie Gray StreeterThe Flick Chick

Boy, am I going to getsome angry e-mails, and per-haps even a nasty phone callor two — none of which I’mencouraging, by the way.

I just know how tricky itis to write something lessthan reverential about a mov-ie based on a comic book, ad-venture series or anythingwith a built-in, devoted cultfollowing. That always gener-ates lots of passionate feed-back from those devotedfans who take any criticism

as blasphemy and a personalinsult.

So I know I’m inviting aworld of cyber-hurt when Itell you that Frank Miller’sSin City, based on the comic

genius’ series of graphic nov-els, is visually stunning, styl-ishly devastating and well-acted, but eventually sinksunder its high-school delightin stark violence, uncheckedgore and tired depiction of allwomen as sexually chargedvamps, victims, strippers orhookers. Or vampy victims.Or victim hookers.

But almost all hookers.I’d been looking forward

to this movie for months,man — the posters, with vari-

ous members of the fetchingcast (Jessica Alba, BenicioDel Toro, Bruce Willis)jumping off the paper in vividblack and white, like living,breathing comic characters.Also, I love director RobertRodriguez, who shares a di-recting credit with Miller,and Quentin Tarantino, whoappears as the special guestdirector of one scene (Spe-cial Guest Director? Who’she supposed to be? Heather

‘Sin City’ lush, gorgeous, campy ... too gory to like

Bruce Willis is Hartigan, one of the last good cops in Sin City, whohas vowed to protect a girl from the many madmen roaming the city.Flick Chick Quick List looks at lovesick lugs and monsters, 10D. See FLICK CHICK, 10D >

ACCENTThe Palm Beach Post

DSATURDAY,

APRIL 2, 2005

PalmBeachPost.com

Josh Kornbluth brings hiscomic monologue, ‘Loveand Taxes,’ to the Kravis.Theater review, 4D

C

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