The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

Hello fans of my blog, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me". Greetings from the author, Shawn M. Cohen. If you have not ever read this blog, and want to read an incredible epic love story, then do go to the archived entries on the right hand side. Scroll down to the beginning, dated "FEB. 28,click on that to begin, read and enjoy, then continue up by the next date until you reach the end, more than 20 entires. Don't forget the videos that are selected on the right, as they accompany our story. Beautifully, poignantly atmospherically, the music provides so much of what was essential between Art and myself, our secret code to dream upon.
If you have read all the entries to this incredible true story between my beloved Art Swiden, an ex- Heavyweight boxer, who fought some of the very best in his day, and myself, his secret love, than you know our story...but our story is a continual journey, even after his death. Yesterday, August 23, 2010, was the 6 year anniversary of Art's passing. To honour his memory, I put up on my Facebook page 3 days of stories about Art, actual press clippings of his boxing history, and music videos. Art loved music, and spoke to me often, as our secret code, through the lyrics of Sinatra, Matt Monro, and so many of his time. This blog entry is the last shout out to him and my readers, for now, as I plow on with the book.
People wonder what happened to us, why did we seperate and not stay together? Well, there were many reasons. I did not even know he had passed away for a whole year, being 10 years away from him, living in London. We had an almight argument that set us away from each other. So, no connections to him, or anyone who knew him meant I had no way of being informed of his death. The very last time Art and I saw each other was in Hollywood, Florida in 1994. That time was our first meeting in 14 years, and I had already became a Metaphysician, developed myself psychically and spiritually, from attending The American National Institute for Psychical Research and Development, in Westlake, California, earning my BSc. Metaphysics. I would go on to teach esoteric subjects, consult clients using the tools I was educated in; Tarot readings, Astrology, Past Life Regression, years of training towards becoming a psychotherapist and much knowledge earned through my Nursing certificate (L.V.N.)in allopathic and in natural medicine. Brought over to London, England, in 1985, by my best friend Robbie's older sister, Harriet, a psychotherapist herself, and asked to conduct a workshop in Montecorice, Italy at the Pellin Institute with Harriet and all British therapists and participants was my way in to deciding I wanted to live in London. I would make London, and many working trips to Europe, my home, some 25 years now.
In the meantime, opening up to my own gifts as a psychic was an epic journey in itself. It seems to me what we gain is usually born of some kind of challenge, trauma or pain. And this, too, was opened up to me with the tragic death of my very first boyfriend in 1979. I had been with Art after Glen and I broke up, and that was the way it was. I had left California, where I had lived with Glen. We had dated all through High School in Pittsburgh, he was 2 years older than me, and it seemed right for us to be together once I graduated from High School. The times were defiantly changing, as Rock and Roll was belted out from every car window, and the messages of freedom calling, breaking all the old restrictions, fighting social injustices, Vietnam and its impact on the youth of America was paramount in the early '70's and 1974. The hippy movement brought consciousness in. The psychotherapists would analyse and develop it, and the Mystics proclaimed it, "The Age of Aquarius". "Hair" had been on Broadway, as well as "Jesus Christ Superstar". Life as we knew it was becoming a far cry from the set values of the 1950's and our parents, and the 1960's would usher in a new dawn of equal rights for women and minority groups, and the technology for much more free time. By the time I became 18, Jim Morrison was already dead by 3 years, I had witnessed on TV, as a child, the Moon Landing. Images of Vietnam ransacked our TV's news nightly. I was to hear, again as a young child, of the brutal deaths of Martin Luther King, Jr. and our President, John F. Kennedy. These experiences floating around my psyche and all about my person had a huge impact on me. I knew my life would have to be a contribution, have meaning, and above all help those who were helpless. It would take me to many wondrous and heartbreaking experiences before I saw Art Swiden again in 1994.
The way of the world is as diverse as it's topography. The way of love can be even more mountainous as each individual finds their way home again, to the beloved, the Soul Mate.
Sometimes, if you are very lucky, you both wake up to what is most important on this journey called "Life", and sometimes you just stubbornly fight all the signs.
Fear is the opposite of love, always has been and always will be. This is a Universal Truth. When we wake up to who we really are, and what we are really doing here, the road gets clearer.
We are all Divine Spiritual Beings having a (yet another!) Human experience.

This is the real truth of all of our existence. And this is what I have learned.
My book, and the continue writing, researching and editing process that I have been submersed in for the past four years is ultimately what ,
"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me," is all about.

Here is, for the fans, one more excert from my book, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me".

It is said that the path to true love is never easy. Believe me when I tell you, that is true. But there can be so much joy, love, even bliss and Heaven on Earth on that journey. Discovering what we are all meant to ultimately discover, as Art said to me when his spirit came to me after his death... dressed in a white suit, looking more handsome then ever before, (if that was possible!) surrounded in a blindingly beautiful white light. As my eyes looked on, glazed and fixated on what I knew to be "that moment" when my life would never be the same again, mouth agape, breathing shallow, just afraid to move should this vision of him leave. He leaned over my ground floor apartment balcony, just like Rhett did when he first caught a glimpse of Scarlett at the top of the stairs, dressed like Rick from "Casablanca", he leaned his arm on the balcony and spoke to me. Not in words, but in thoughts, which I clearly heard, and with so much love in his eyes, he said, "Shawn, love never dies." I heard it, I consumed it in my brain, as I watched with my own eyes, afraid to blink, at his brilliance, his dazzling display of coming back to me, across the sea, across the dimensions, from Heaven itself to bring me this message. My eyes welled up, afraid to blink, so I would not see him, I dared not to cry. The key to the back door was across the living room, and I cursed that I did not have it right there in my hand so I could go out to him, there leaning in, standing on the grass, gazing at me with that smile, that look which I came to know so well in my days before when he was mine, so long ago.
Slowly, the light began to fade, and just like he had teleported here, his image began to be swallowed up, as if Scotty had just began to, "beam him up!" I saw him fade, slowly, bit by bit, the white light diminished and I heard myself breathing again. I stood motionless for a minute, to see if he would reappear. The key, I must get the key! I ran across my living room floor to the bookshelf which safely housed the magic key. Snatched it and ran back, ripped the door open as fast as I could and stood on the opposite side from where he had been standing.The 3 inch black wrought iron railing between. It was broad daylight, about 11:30 am, and the usual goings on were there, people walking by, etc. I wondered for that second if anyone else had seen him? It mattered not, as I was too consumed to care. "Art, Art, come back to me, Art! Are you there?" I knew I looked like a lunatic should anyone see me calling to thin air off my back balcony, but I did not care. Just then I felt a breeze rush by me, blowing my hair right in front of my eyes. It was October, a nip was in the air. I took my hands which were wrapped around the railing, the railing where Art had leaned his arm on, and I pushed the hair out of my eyes. I want to see! I wanted to see him again. The breeze quickened, then warmed and I felt a swirl of love surround me, as if the breeze was embracing me. I called out softly, "Art, Art, Darling is that you? Don't leave me, come back to me!"


This would begin the final 3rd of my book. It is this part where, believe it or not, the real action begins. Thank you to all the many people, researchers, and friends who have helped to make our story come to life. My plan ( and you know the saying, "the best laid plans of mice and men") is to complete my epic book, edit, rewrite, edit again and make ready for submission to the right publisher by the end of 2010. It may take a little longer, because my work as a professional psychic medium and my daughter all come before, but I will get there. As Art would say, "What's the rush? We have all eternity."

Hopefully, someone out there will enjoy this blog so much they offer me a deal. Hey, it could happen! Not only a book deal but a movie deal as well. Art always wanted to be an actor. I know that no one could play him better then himself, but since that isn't possible, he'll have to be one "helluva guy"! These are the dreams and ambitions of this author. Thank you for reading and being a part of our story. Look for ,"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me" in bookstores worldwide, and online, in 2011, if my swarthy, handsome heavyweight boxing Angel in Heaven and I have our way!


Miss Shawn M. Cohen, London, England, August 24, 2010.



"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me", by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. All events are true, some names have been changed to protect people's privacy. All video content is copy righted to their perspective artists, musicians and composers. No copyright infringement intended.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

March 1976. I left Los Angeles bereft. As fate would have it, I sat crying my eyes out even before I left, there on a bench at Santa Monica City College, after I had withdrawn from school. I felt weak, emotionally raw and had to sit on a bench outside on the main campus, trying to collect myself. But it was to no avail, the tears fell by themselves. I knew this was the end of a dream for me. My mother needed me at home, end of story. Looking for some Kleenex in my purse, my eyes blurred with tears, I didn't see him approaching me. Suddenly, an arm was around me. I looked up to see who it was. There was Glen. Perched on the arm of this bench, looking very concerned, his piercing blue eyes gazing down at me. "What's all this about then? What's wrong?" he asked me. I felt like a fool, but it was too late. I just filled in the blanks of what I had been going through. He knew that madness I was going home to, tried to comfort me and told me to dry my eyes. Eventually, we talked about us and why we didn't work out. He said we were both just too young, and I knew he was right. He asked me if I wanted him to drive me home, even though he would be missing his class. I told him, no, he shouldn't miss his class. I thought how hard we had both worked to be together in L.A. in 1974. That little bungalow we rented in North Hollywood, living "in sin" as they(the Establishment) had called it, and then apart. I was 18years old, one day out of High School graduation when I came to him there and he was all of 20. We had dated all through High School in Pittsburgh. He was tall, and handsome, those deep blue Piscean eyes and that long, black, slightly curly hair showed his love for rock and roll . A poet hippy like me. He was studying Chemistry now and reading Martin Buber and Ayn Rand. His Jewish background was evident from his conversations, slipping in the odd Yiddish slang but a true rebel who championed the Underdog and I loved that about him. He taught me how to do everything, from smoking cigarettes to driving a car to all manner of teenage growing up adventures. He was my very first boyfriend . I was age 14 when we met. He was 16, and a proud owner of a Kawasaki motorcycle. He worked in a Kosher butchers for a whole summer to buy it. My mother had a fit when he pulled into our driveway with his "steed", as he called it, giving him a brutal interrogation when he came to pick me up for our date. He always convinced her I would be safe with him, somehow. He was my first date, my first kiss, my first everything. All his male friends from Allderdice High School dated my female friends from Peabody High School. So it was great when Mike moved out to L.A., also from Allderdice, a friend of Glen's who Reva and I knew from back home. We all hung out together, us four Pittsburghers ; young , free and having a ball discovering The City of Angels. They were still playing The Doors music everywhere, too, in 1974, '75 even '76. It made my day to hear Jim Morrison belting out , "L.A. Woman" from some top down, fancy sports car on the Sunset Strip.

But this was all gone now, and I had to go home. Glen offered, in one final gallant gesture, to take me to the airport. He and Mike helped Reva and I move into our Sweetzer Ave. apartment in West Hollywood with what little bits of furniture we had. I had my LPS, my classical guitar, and loads of clothes. That's what I came with and now, that is what I would be leaving with. That, a few great memories and about a dozen defunked college course books.
The day came too soon. Reva would give up the apartment and move back home. Glen and Mike came to the airport with Reva. I said good-bye to them all with a heavy heart and tears streaming down my face. It was a late night flight from L.A to Pittsburgh...known as "The Red Eye". I had to laugh at the irony. The tears never let up all 5 and half hours of the flight east. I arrived in the early dawn, knowing my mother would never get up that early to meet me. I took a cab home. The sun was barely up, and it was a grey day. Spring was trying to come through but it was having difficulty. As the yellow cab came out of the Fort Pitt Tunnels and revealed Downtown Pittsburgh and its Point, the three rivers that meet, I knew I was home. I sat back in the cab, resigned. I lit another cigarette and starred almost comatose out the window at the passing scenery to Stanton Heights, then finally to 5108 Rosecrest Drive. As the cab driver pulled up on the hillside curb to park, I saw my house. My eyes widened and my heart sank even further, if it was possible. The grass was so overgrown it nearly blocked the walkway to the door! The flower boxes were all bare, everything looked rough. It then hit me how long this must have been going on. Where was the skilled beauty from the Japanese gardener my father employed? I paid the cab driver and he helped me with my suitcases. I was so embarrassed by the state of our once groomed lawn and garden, I told him it was ok, I would take it myself and tipped him. I scrambled through the mess to the front door, hunted deep in my purse for my house keys, which I hadn't used for almost 2 years. As I turned the key to open the door, I looked around at this Upper Middle class, predominantly Jewish neighborhood I had grown up in. The Cadillacs, Mercedes and Porches parked in their neatly manicured driveways of each house. I felt sick to my stomach. What must our neighbors think?!! It looks like the Adams Family lives here!
There was no gratitute in coming home. My mother saw it as necessary, no sacrifice on my part. I went to bed and spent the better part of 3 weeks there not even bothering to celebrate my 20th birthday. Nor did I call any of my girlfriends. I just couldn't bare it. My younger brother told me what he had seen. The fighting and yelling, the threats and the name calling. "Shawn, you didn't miss a thing! That Bastard was awful to Mummy!" He was talking about our father. I was glad to see him again, in spite of the bad news he delivered. It must have been really tough on him, too. He was the youngest and the only one left at home to witness it all. I felt sorry for him, really. He was still in high school. My mother came up with an idea to get me out of my malaize. She knew a photographer who would do some head shots of me, maybe I could do some modelling, she asked me. "What? Are you nuts?!" I told her. "That's not going to get us anywhere! And by the way, I'm too damn fat to model, or haven't you noticed?" I was so angry. She didn't go out and find a job but somehow I was going to model us out of poverty! "I know you aren't stick thin, but you could be a face model, and they make good money, why not? Anyway, I already made the appointment, and it's tomorrow, so look your best, we have to be there at 1:00." My mother had made up her mind and there was no going back. "Gee," I said sarcastically, "I wish you had warned me, since I just ate myself up a dress size from depression!" Her show biz reply was, "Head shots! Head Shots! Doesn't matter!" It was clear to me, my mother was still living in the movies.

I was never so embarrassed in my life. There it is, in the picture above, one of the results.I felt like a complete moron posing in that stupid cowboy hat! I had to do something quick to get back to L.A. or get a job...fast!

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by, Shawn M. Cohen, Copyright 2010. This is a blog based on the book I have been writing called, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me". It is non-fiction memoirs of my life and the psychic and spiritual journey I took through the deaths of two men I had loved. My awakening began when I was 23 years old and the other when I was 49. How each had come to me after our relationships were through, even many years later, in Spirit form. I had no idea either had died, because I wasnt in contact with either or even in the same city, state or country as them! This is my journey, their after life, what each one showed me that changed my life forever. Ultimately learning that Love Never Dies.
When necessary for privacy, I have changed the surname of individuals but all accounts are true.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me

Here is Art Swiden, a.k.a. The Pittsburgh Phantom, when he was a mere 20 years old, posing for a career that would take him into the boxing world, ranking by the time he retired in 1960, 9th Heavyweight in the world. This was at a time when Rocky Marciano, Joe Louis and many of the classic all time greats were fighting as well..and Art fought and sparred with them all. Who am I? I am a woman he loved who loved him when he was 16 years retired out of the ring, and managing one of the best Jazz clubs in Pittsburgh, Pa. I had just turned 20 years old when we met, and he was a handsome, funny, 48 year old ex heavyweight boxer, who for some reason took a big shine to me. This is our story, and it was a secret love affair, for nearly 28 years. Art was a great guy, who had a beautiful big heart...and apparently was a hell of a boxer...my blog is about giving recognition to a man who deserved alot more then he got, but mostly because Art came to me in 2005, a year after his death...this is our incredible story of life and love after death. I have been researching and writing my book about Art and I, our journey together and apart, in life and in the afterlife. It has been a true labor of love for me, for a man I did not know was still in love with me for so many years after we broke up. There are reasons why we didn't stay together, and mostly they had to do with other obligations to our families, and the times we loved in. A 28 year age difference was a big deal in 1976, when we met. But the electricity was there from Art's first approach to me, way back in the Encore downtown, amongst the dark back of the restaurant as I was reaching into the bread bin for bread for my customers. I will never forget that day. Here is how I came to work in a Jazz club under age at just 20, and how it changed my whole life... My Aunt was booking jazz acts from New York City where she lived, to the Encore I(in Shadyside) and II, in downtown Pittsburgh, Pa. and Bobby Davis was the manager then to the Encore Downtown (The Encore II) . Bobby was a cool cat, a man who knew everything there was to know about jazz music, and he and my Aunt were friends.My Aunt had managed The Bitter End and The Gaslight in Greenwich Villiage in the 1960's. Her and my mother were sisters,(my mother 8 years older) and best friends. Both had been professional show girls, dancers and performed in the circus, in their day. Show business was in their blood, they never left it. My mother was a local actress who performed to great applause and awards in the Pittsburgh Playhouse, The Odd Chair Playhouse, and the Beverly Hills Playhouse, all for a song, as they say. My mother's family were from Ireland and Scotland, and Catholic.My grandparents immigrated to New York, settled in Brooklyn and my mother was first born in 1924, the oldest of three, poverty was a way of life. My father was born in Pittsburgh to Polish/Russian immigrants, in 1924, the last of 3, Jewish, and grew up in the Hill District...dirt poor.....but now he was a very successful siding guy and owned his own business, as well as a business where he took gamblers and their wives to Las Vegas, for gambling Junkets. Everyone knew my father at The Tropicana. And I know this because I went there many a time with my friends. All I had to do was mention my father's name and we got in anywhere, comp, comp, and more comps! But in March of 1976 my parents were going through a horrible seperation with the intent to divorce, still unusual in 1976, and especially in Pittsburgh. Sadly, my father was so bitter, he took his millions and ran off with his secretary, leaving my 51 year old mother to foodstamps and welfare to survive. In a town where everyone knew everyone else's business, and many knew my parents, my mother and us four kids(my 3 siblings) had a great deal of anger and shame about this. I was called to come home from Los Angeles, where I had been going to college since 1974. I had a wonderful dear friend Reva, who I knew from Pittsburgh, and her and I shared an apartment on Sweetzer Ave. not far from Sunset Strip. We didnt have alot of furniture but we were happy! I was working part time as a waitress in a diner type restaurent. My father, who certainly had more money than anyone would or should have to worry about, started to not pay for my college.I called my mother to ask what was going on. My mother told me the bad news, that he had left, taken all the money and we were truely on our own. She asked me to leave college immediately and come back to Pittsburgh where I would have to get a job to help her, and help supprt my youngest brother who was still in high school, age 17. I argued with her that I had mid-terms approaching and I was working and I had an apartment with Reva, that I had my own life now and couldn't just up and leave it...but it was to no avail. My mother needed me and basically, that won out over any rational thoughts of a life of my own. I told Reva when she got home from school. We both were attending Santa Monica City College. We had gone to Pierce Jr. College out in the hinterlands of Canoga Park the year before, and were so glad we got into the city, and all the wonders of two 19 years old, let loose in L.A , in the heydays of the mid '70's could experience together. Disco was king and we made sure we got into every club going, even though we were underage. L.A. as well as Pittsburgh had a 21 year old law that made sure no one under that age would be allowed in..however, we were sassy enough not to let that stop us! But all that would be leaving me soon, as I told Reva the sad news. It was with an aching heart and alot of anger at my father that I went back to Pittsburgh. Not before running into my ex boyfriend Glen, at school on the day I had to withdraw from my beloved classes. I loved what I was learning...psychology, writing and poetry, film and all things that made you think. I loved philosophy and art, music, too. My Major was English Lit with a Film Minor. I wanted to be a writer, you see.