Capt’n Max tells us a story. Photo: Alex Saglimbeni circa 2010

by Dr. Susan Block.

Max is gone. My Great Love left his beautiful, long-suffering body yesterday at about noon PST, though I’m not sure of the exact time because I was crying too much to notice. Honestly, I am crying too much to post this, but I want to honor my darling Mickey now and forevermore.

Prince Maximillian Rudolph Leblovic di Lobkowicz di Filangieri, aka Capt’n Max, aka Mickey, aka Michael, aka Massimilliano, aka Massimo, aka Xam Paris, led an extraordinary life – over 81 years of romance, revolution, art, theater, publishing, erotica, reader-written media, pro-bonobo activism, international intrigue, fearless freedom-fighting and endless love – so much bright and radiant love. For 33 years of marriage and 40 years of deep friendship, Max lit up my life like a fireworks show, a candlelit romance and a fiery rally for free speech combined into one electric bacchanalian living theater. Max lit up many lives besides mine, and I’ll tell those amazing stories at another time. Right now, I just have the wherewithal to tell you what happened.

As many of you know, Max suffered a major ischemic stroke on May 19, 2024, and since then has struggled with many medical complications, including a variety of severe mental and physical disabilities. But he was still (and always will be) the light of my life, and I looked forward to every day with him, and yes, I visited Max in the hospital, rehab, ambulance or nursing home every single day for almost a year. I did it to help him, of course, I was his only constant caregiver. But I also did it because I craved that sparkling light of his.

Max also lit up the doctors’ and nurses’ days and nights with his funny faces, nonsense songs and occasional pearls of wisdom burbling up through the rough seas of aphasia (aka Maxolalia). I tried to support Max’s natural charm by showing them some of the many magazines he published and a few of our shows (the PG ones). Despite the inherent and sometimes deadly failings of the American Medical Insurance System (which I could complain about and have), most medical personnel treated Max like the VIP he was. And yes, we had good times – even some great times – in his horrible final year. More on that later.

Then on Friday, Max’s blood pressure – which always used to be high – dropped precipitously, his sodium levels plummeted, his kidneys failed, his heart stopped and would not restart despite heroic attempts, and then suddenly my Great Love was gone.

I’m no necrophiliac, but I kissed, hugged and wept over his still beautiful, but oh-so-ravaged body until it grew cold and hard as an ice sculpture, and the morgue technicians took him away. Naively, I asked if I could go with him, and gently as they could, they refused.

All I could think was (and still is) I miss him so much! I’m told that this is normal and to be expected, but it doesn’t feel “normal” to me, as this grief is greater than any I’ve ever felt. I wish I lived in one of those cultures where the weeping widow throws herself onto her husband’s funeral pyre and goes up in smoke along with him. Last night, I wanted to die in my sleep and join him somehow, but I couldn’t sleep, so no such luck. I am still here, and Max is not.

I managed to make it through the night to today, the first day in many decades that I can’t see my beloved husband, touch him, inhale his delicious essence or hear his voice – except in my mind, which isn’t much for a pro-bonobo Epicurean like me.

I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but this doesn’t seem real. Death doesn’t seem real, and yet it’s as real as life. Cold and brutally real as the bodies in the morgue. The reality of Max’s death sinks in a little more each moment like a cold steel knife slowly piercing my heart.

The only thing that keeps me from falling apart right now is a desire to honor Max’s memory, his remarkable life, his historic contributions to free speech, publishing, radio, TV, art, antiwar activism, erotica, reader-written media and the Bonobo Way, and to our love… our Great Love.

I will try to do that over the next few days, weeks, months and pretty much throughout the rest of my life, and yes, there will be an amazing memorial, but for now, here are a just few photos… in sickness and in health – and in love. Always in love.

UPDATE: Our dear friend and frequent show guest, Rhiannon Aarons, set up this “GOFUNDME” to help pay some of Max’s funeral expenses and honor his Free Speech legacy. Please donate if you can.

Just a Few Photos of Max
(More to Come!)