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I want to share with you this fascinating and intense tale as told by one of Paul's ex girlfriends before Dorothy. For good reason she wishes to remain anonymous but her story is one that must be told. Let us send her a silent word of thanks for sharing this difficult but revealing remembrance with us.
Well, where do I begin......this is really old stuff as I am now in my 50's and I was only 22-23 when I first met Paul.

I met him at a nightclub called "Sneaky Petes" in downtown Vancouver. He had the usual bell bottom pants and an open flowered shirt I think, mustache and lots of gold chains around the neck - that was the dress of the 70's for sure.

He kept bugging me for my phone number all night. Not sure why I gave in, I almost gave him a phony number because he was so persistent but there was something about him that intrigued me, so I finally gave him my number. I was a pretty good looking girl. I had long blond hair down to my waist and would turn heads when I walked by.

Don't exactly remember when he first called, but I do remember him pulling up on our first time out together in a brilliant orange or yellow corvette with flames....yes flame decals on all sides - man, pretty tacky, I almost laughed when I saw the car pull up - could of done without the flames, that is for sure. Well he got out of the car - had silk bellbottoms on, snakeskin boots and a white Fedora, just like the gangsters used to wear. 
 I felt a little embarrassed to be seen with him and I think every girl always felt that way - he just lacked a lot of class, but there was something about him that drew you to him. I think it was the fact that he treated you like you were the only one, he put you up on a pedestal and made you feel wonderful and he was a take charge kind of guy. He never asked what you wanted to do, but always had things planned for the day and I think girls like that. There was also a mystery about him, you never really knew what he did, so it was exciting to be around him. He just always took charge.

When I dated him, he would take me away for the weekend and we stayed in first class hotels - this was impressive. (I found out later that they were funded by his girls, he had 2 prostitutes working for him.)

He rented and lived with a roommate who I cant remember, in a house in the British Properties which is one of the swankiest places to live in Vancouver. He played guitar and would serenade you and sing to you as if you were the only one alive. Now, to a young girl in their 20's, this was something. 
He used to call me his little "liebeling" which meant something in German I think, but I cant remember what it was, but he said it was a special name which meant a lot.  He also loved to paint my toes and shave my legs....(I'm laughing now) but this was pretty cool at the time. He was also an incredible lover but we wont go there...I am positive that he was in love with me. 
He used to go on and on about how important it was to know that if you were in love with someone that you have to be willing to die for them. This particular statement I never thought too much about until he killed Dorothy, but it was almost something he considered sacred, like it was an important part of being in love and he often talked about that and wanted me to feel the same way. I  found it really unsettling ...considering what happened.

My friends were not fans of Paul for sure and wanted me to dump him, and my girlfriend who knew some police officers  told me that he was being investigated by CLEU (Coordinated Law Enforcement Unit) for prostitution and that my name had come up as being his current girlfriend . She told me to get away from him as he was bad news and was being watched. I guess that was the first time I really started thinking things were not quite right and probably when I decided to pull the pin.

Backstepping a bit, while dating Paul, he did take me to meet some of his friends...or whatever you would call them.  I did meet a couple of his girls, and also a black fellow who also had girls, and a couple of muscle guys who's names I wont mention . Paul also financed his "metal art shop" by proceeds from his ladies and these were quite well done. He did all the soldering in the garage at this house and sold these large wall hangings made out of tin and brass and aluminum in a store on Granville Street. That stuff was hot, in the 70's, but eventually the shop closed and I guess he moved on. 
There I met a really nice fellow a couple of doors down who owned a merchandise store . He kept asking me what a nice girl like me was doing with a creep like Paul.  Most people on Granville street, I guess knew each other - and most knew of Paul. T here were all kinds of clubs and strip joints, stores and the like on this street.  Once it closed to traffic and became a walking mall, crime came in and a lot of the stores closed and it was about this time that I met the shop owner. We became good friends and I credit him for saving my life. 
Paul also said that he was a promoter and brought "shows" to Vancouver as well as having the metal art shop - car shows and the like, but I never saw any of that.  He just seemed to hang around the seedy part of town where the pole dancers were. He took me to one place on Granville where there were strippers because he said he had some business to do, but we were in and out in 5 minutes because I insisted that I did not want to stay there. This was not my thing, I was a pretty innocent girl and my parents would of been appalled if they knew I was ever in such a place.

In all the time I was with Paul, I never saw him do any drugs, nor did he offer me any. I cant remember if he smoked, but I don't think so, but as I said, if he did any drugs it was never around me. I have never done any type of drugs so perhaps he knew that was something I would never stand for. I read on your site that this was something he did, but I never saw it. 
I do know that he was pretty good at the mind games. I was pretty strong willed and my parents had done a good job of instilling a moral set of conduct, so I was pretty self assured. Paul tried to convince me that the company I worked for didn't care, or my parents didn't care .. all the while trying to get me to rely on him as my "one and only".  I guess this is how pimps work from what I know now.  They are very controlling. He liked to tell me what to wear all the time. He also never talked about his parents, even when I asked him, so I don't know anything about his family, but I think he was Jewish. I never met any of his family but I knew they lived here somewhere in Vancouver.

I know he wanted to have my pictures done for Playboy. Because I had a girlfriend who knew Ken Honey (one of Playboys local photographers) I had already had some taken a year before, and they never went anywhere because Ken kept saying it was like taking pictures of Bambi because I would only go as far as a bikini!!!

I think things turned for me when I got the feeling that Paul was trying to push me out to the street. His girls were pissed at him for spending their money on me and I was not contributing. At that point I ended the relationship, but was a little afraid because he did not take it very well. 
For days he would phone me at work and beg me to see him. He would send flowers (roses) every other day and tell me he loved me and cry on the phone. I felt so sorry for him that I thought I would go and see him to just hug him and tell him everything was OK and that I was sorry that it was not going to work out. My girlfriends kept telling after day,  Don't phone him back , DON'T you dare go and see him, he is bad news, he is dangerous, DON'T do I ignored his calls and did not go to see him. I thank them for my life every day.

I am glad I listened, now that I know what happened to Dorothy. That one last meeting could of been fatal for me.

About a week later, One day around 11:00 in the morning I got a call at home. I know he had been calling me as my roommate would always say I was out. This particular morning I picked up the phone and there was no one there. About 15 minutes later a banging came on the door and he was yelling. "Oh my god," I thought, "how stupid of me to answer the phone, it was him and now he knows I am home." 
He continued to get angrier and angrier at the door. He was yelling obscenities and kicking and banging the door. I was terrified, being all alone. Suddenly I heard a huge crash of broken glass and a thump (he had kicked the door in completely off its hinges and it was lying on the floor). I had no where to go, as he was at the back of the house in the kitchen and I was in the living room. 
Then I remembered there was a little closet about 3 feet by 4 feet that was a bench seat for the telephone and I climbed in and hid there. I could hear him stomping around the house saying obscenities and he was going to kill me if he got his hands on me, he was a mad man....I trembled in this little bench seat for my life, I am not kidding. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard him walk across all the broken glass and out the door.

I stuck my head out and grabbed the phone - remember in those days we had no call display or no portable phones, so I had to take the phone off the hook and fumble with the cord. I phoned my friend the shop owner who told me to immediately leave and head over to C........'s house who was one of the muscle men I had met sometime earlier and he gave me his address. The shop owner, in the meantime, phoned him and told him I was coming. Well, I grabbed my keys from the coffee table and headed out the front door just as Paul came back in the back door yelling again, saying, "I heard you, you little bitch get over here!"

I ran out of the front of my house in my nightie and around the back to the garage where my car was. I got it started, backed it out, and gunned it down the street as he was grabbing for the door handle. I headed over to C......'s place and a bunch of people were there all laughing at the doorstep as I drove up because I had to get out of the car in my nightie and run across the street. While I was there, we had a nice talk. C.... said that he knew I was coming and he was expecting a call from Paul. He said, "You wait, Paul will be calling within the hour." 
Sure enough, Paul called and C..... talked with him, all the while winking at me. As the story goes, Paul wanted to give him $2500 to teach me a lesson. I asked what that meant and C said, "Well, break a leg or something, but you don't need to know any of that because.....its a good thing I like you more than I like Paul, so you are safe here."

C said a good way he could protect me would be to switch cars for a couple of weeks. He said, "If you park my car in the front of your house, Paul will NEVER come near you if he knows I am here. I will also tell him that if he bothers you anymore then he will hear from me."

So....I drove C's car for a couple of weeks and never got a phone call, or anything else. He also had Paul come over and hire a carpenter to repair the door and Paul paid for it. This was done when I was not around so I never saw him.

I never saw Paul again until 6 months or a year later walking on Hornby street.  He was then driving a Rolls or a Bentley - white, and was in Vancouver with Dorothy on some T-shirt promotion I think at the Bayshore Inn (nice hotel). He was quite civil and very excited about his life.
We exchanged a few words and I kept the conversation light and left quickly - after about 5 minutes.
I met a girl later through a friend of mine who also dated Paul after me and before Dorothy. She basically echoed my feelings about him and said that when Paul met Dorothy she was history.  

I sure wish Dorothy 's friends had   been stronger about warning  her about Paul . From what I have read, she was so well liked - I find it sad that  she had gone to see him that one last time. I know I wouldn't be here if I did. Every time I see anything on the news or TV about Dorothy it brings back all the memories about Paul. I have great guilt and such sadness because I was unable  to warn her. Every time I hear disco music it reminds me of him  and the horrible tragedy that ensued , especially the song "do the hustle" as it always seemed to play when we were in his car. It seems quite fitting that this song reminds me of him.

I also heard a song some year later which fits him 100%. If you ever get a chance to listen to Stevie Wonder's "He's Mr. Know it all" - that song is Paul.

I am sure I have forgotten lots, but these are just some of the things I am willing to share. My heart continues to go out to her family and Peter Bogdanovich who loved her so much.