Ballarat BEL Be-In, Easter Sunday '71

From the Nevada State Journal, April 8 1971:  "the gathering was called for by participants in the Laguna Beach Christmastime Happening as a religious experience. They denied later reports that the gathering would be a rock festival saying no live music was planned for the Easter sunrise observation."

*Special thanks to Michael Channels for permission to use the image at left.

Here are two more from the same event that DebS recently found in the LA Freep. One has a map showing festival attendees how to arrive at Ballarat from Laguna Beach:

"According to Superintendent Murphy of Death Valley National Monument, no arrangements have been made with his department for the festival...As we see it, this festival has all the makings of a very bad trip."


Promoters jumped on board and rumors floated that bands like Jethro Tull would be in attendance. BEL member Dion Wright who painted the Taxonomic Mandala made the following statement: "An Easter gathering will take place in Ballarat California, an eighty acre privately owned ghost town...(that) has been offered free of charge. We have represented to (Inyo County) a pilgrimage...including the placing of a Book of Life in the Panamint Valley." 

  Book of Life, not Book of Death (as in Leary's and the Manson's manifestos). Patty has heard the Goler Wash referred to as the "Holy Goler" and has always wondered why: perhaps this is part of the answer. Interesting, no?

Preston Guillory's First Interview With the Freep

This is Preston Guillory's first interview with the Los Angeles Free Press. It was conducted shortly after he had been fired from the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department, Guillory had been assigned to the Malibu sub-station and participated in the August 1969 Spahn Ranch Raid.

Guillory's second interview with the Freep was included in the pdf that the newspaper put together with all of their Manson articles. I keep finding Manson related stuff that was omitted from that pdf and this article is one of those that had been omitted. 

Manson and Calley, to the death

This is another Manson related article published by the Los Angeles Free Press that did not make it into the pdf that they are offering with all (so they say) the Manson articles.  This piece is an obvious satire,  a complete 180 from the first articles published in the Freep about Manson.   So much for peace, love and understanding.



Volume 8, No. 14 (Issue No. 350) April 2-8, 1971

"An immodest proposal

Will Lt. Calley kill Charles Manson for charity?

Sam Eisenstein

A suggestion made in jest some months ago, then spread as a rumor, finally reached the ears of the people in a position to deal with it seriously.  That suggestion is about to bear fruit.  Naturally, until the "package" is ready for publication, all names involved and the exact details must remain confidential.  We can say at this time however, that the necessary changes in local and state laws and the governor's approval are almost certain.

The linking of Lieutenant Calley and Charles Manson in a public exhibition to raise money for extremely worthwhile causes is, all agree, a stroke of genius.  Nobody involved with the extremely sensitive negotiations can recall just who thought of it first.  But here it is: Sometime just after school begins again in the fall, Charles Manson will be publically executed by Lieutenant Calley in the Los Angeles Coliseum.  The event will be carried live by closed-circuit television and satellite to millions of homes across the planet.  In addition, there will be a lottery to determine who will get parts of Charles Manson's body.  Manson's co-defendants have agreed to burn themselves to death separately during the execution.  Calley is certain that he can prolong Manson's death throughout the immolation of the girls, and if there are any others of Charlie's "family" who wish to step forward, he is sure that the timing of Manson's death can be adjusted accordingly.

If the plan is approved, it will be the first public execution in California in over a century.  It will be the first time a legal lottery has been held in California.  And last but not least the first lottery and execution carried on closed circuit television.

These are the obvious "firsts" involved, but behind the scenes, the excitement is for very different reasons.  And you guessed it, all the reasons sift down to just one: money.

Even those who were horrified when first approached for their opinions, when they were told the very real financial gains possible, changed their position.  Even those firmly opposed to capital punishment, when presented with a signed testimony by Charles Manson (not available for direct quotation at this time) to the effect that he and his Family were glad to present and example of how bravely and calmly it was possible to die, to be an example against the cowardly hypocrisy of the society that condemned him to death, while in fact, the society itself was sick and dying.  And the fact that society was willing to pay enormous sums (that could have been spent on restoring medical, welfare, etc.) to see him butchered, proved to him and his Family, how morally bankrupt the society was.

The officials most closely involved with negotiations were happy to give Manson his propaganda "victory," as they believed, and so it turned out, that the benefits to the poor, elderly, the educational establishment, etc. were going to prove to be enormous.
 

Examples:  With the estimated $50,000,000 gross take for tickets, TV, lottery, etc. all budget cuts to the University of California, the State Colleges, Medi-Cal, Rural Assistance, and many others will be restored.  Many more students will be able to enter colleges in California. Many elderly will get the kind of care they deserve and are entitled to.  Stalled legislative programs for re-education of out-of-work aero-space engineers will be implemented.

"Wait a minute," the wary taxpayer protests.  "Fifty million dollars is a lot of money, but not THAT much."  True, the officials admit.  But Calley-Manson, or CM is just a start.  With the necessary laws enacted, and the expected carried to and tested by the Supreme Court, CM will be only the first of semiannual or even bimonthly exhibitions.

It is expected that many variations of the basic execution will be worked out and held in different localities.  The punishment will be designed to fit the crime.  Knife murderers, such as Manson, will have pieces of their bodies cut off, little by little.  "An eye for and eye, a tooth for a tooth."  Calley, in his turn, will after full military honors, band playing and a 21-gun salute, be torn apart by four-to six year old Vietnamese orphans.  The estates of the two men will be richly endowed.  And it will be in their own interests to speak to the press at length before the executions.  Other public enemies will die by drawing and quartering, being placed on the rack, poisoning.  Naturally, not all executions will lend themselves to large public gatherings.  For less famous criminals smaller facilities will be rented.

A few indirect comments by religious, political, and social leaders might be in order:

From a priest: "Our Lord was executed publicly.  Without the crucifixion there would be no Christianity."

From a rabbi: "If the social beliefs of an act are great, the individual serves society and himself well by lending himself to it."

From a retired deputy sheriff: "This will prove a deterrent to anybody thinking about committing a crime in cold blood, and it will provide more peace officers to keep the people in line."

From the governor's office: "We're quite hopeful this will go through.  The governor has pledged himself to keeping taxes down and providing relief for homeowners.  Now, homeowners will be able to sleep better at night, pay less, and justice will be served."

From a mortician: "We will have facilities for public viewing of the remains, in a tasteful way, and in a way the will increase the public fiscal benefits of the whole idea.  I'm for it."

From a Mother: "I say let children see the results of misbehaving.  It'll teach them a good lesson.  You just can't get away from that sort of thing, immorality, and sleeping around.  Good for them, I say."

From a pacifist: "I think the state is going to reap too much glory and loot from this, but a person has a right to dispose of his life the way he wants to.  I can't say he shouldn't go this way."

From someone against capital punishment: "Well, it isn't really capital punishment.  They could stay in jail, they could keep appealing for years.  I'm not against suicide."

From a war prisoner's wife: "Maybe this will get my husband home."

From a psychiatrist: "This is what Manson really wanted. The public convinced him he was the devil in the flesh.  He won't feel a thing as he's cut up. He knows he's supernatural and above all human laws."

From an English teacher: "All this is a poor take-off on  Jonathan Swift's 'A Modest Proposal.' "

So there it is.  The most daring break with the past ever suggested in California State history.  Who knows how far and wide the idea will spread, how much positive social good will come of it, how much legal revenue without new taxes will be generated, while at the same time Justice is served?

Now is the time for the public to be heard.  What do you think?"

How Dare The Void Waste Ron Hughes?

*A little about Ron Hughes from various online sources.  According to vital records Ronald William Hughes was born March 16, 1935 in Los Angeles County.  The 1940 US Census says that he had one older brother and one younger sister.  His parents were named John and Anita and his father was employed as a draftsman in the oil industry.  They lived at 2807 Badan Ave. Los Angeles.

Ron was a Korean War veteran having served in the Army.  He graduated from UCLA.  He was admitted to the California Bar Association June 1969.   He was employed by the public defenders office and became acquainted with Manson while visiting him in jail.  He was Manson's attorney for a short time before becoming Van Houten's attorney.  The Manson case was literally Ron's first court case.

This is an article that appeared in the Los Angeles Free Press December 11, 1970, page 3.  It is NOT an article that is included in "The Charles Manson Report" compiled by the Freep and available for download at LSB3.com .  http://www.lsb3.com/search/label/Los%20Angeles%20Free%20Press%20-%20The%20Charles%20Manson%20Report  (This is a great resource and you should download it for future reference)

It's a wonderful tribute article to the man that was Leslie Van Houten's attorney.  Hughes body had not been found at the time this was written.

"HOW DARE THE VOID WASTE RON HUGHES?
Ed Sanders

We were returning from the Sespe Hot Springs area past the freshly oozed-together mounds of silt and the pink-ended living tree trunks scattered in the chaos of the river bed and the boulders pushed down the gorge by the idiot rain-flood, knowing that Ron Hughes, gentleman and friend, was dead.  In his honor, as we drove down the muddy road, we were violating H11 530 of the California penal code, filling our lungs with the sweet smoke of Ra.

The ardent cause of his death was an intense spew of rain, 12 inches in 18 hours, that caused a punk little creek to rise up and widen and sweep him off his feet as he attempted to carry some transcripts of the trial from his mud-marooned VW back to his camp.  Evidently he tried to ford the rising waters and God stomped his face.  In the incidence of those Boy Scout several years ago, some were washed down to the sea many miles away down Sespe Gorge to the Santa Clara River to the Oxnard confluence.  Thallata!!!  Thallata!!!

In a box in Ron's marooned VW, were several books, among them: Criminal Law and Its Processes, Attorney For  The Damned -- Clarence Darrow, The Death Penalty in America and a book on organic food structures.  He was sorely human, attired in his sharp suits from the MGM props sale of last summer, as the trial progressed and Judge Older slapped him into the slams for a jive contempt of court charge, and one observed him investigating and preparing his case.  His client, Leslie Van Houten, had the best chance to win her freedom and he was totally aware of it -- and he worked hard on her behalf.  He brought into court what seemed like half of the staff of the Patton State nut hatch wherein had recently resided Diane Lake, the chief witness against Miss Van Houten.  He brought the staff members into a court hearing to try to show that her mind was out to lunch as of being able to remember events during August 69 chop-time.  He transcribed hours of tapes of the various police interrogations of such as Danny De Carlo and Miss Lake (AKA Snake, Diane Bluestein and Diane E Mak), seeking data with which to save the life of his client.

He was not a robot; he took his time.  He had the greatest knowledge of dope-lore one has encountered.  It was thrilling to watch the jurors jotting down notes as Ron cross-examined Linda Kasabian about trimming the strychnine hairs off a peyote plant.

He had a great sense of humor, as when he described the jury, when asked by the media  just after the jury was "chosen", as being like a bad acid trip.  Or when he asked the Polanski maid, Mrs. Chapman, if Peter Sellers had made any calls to the Cielo Drive residence on August 8, 1969.  Or when he seriously discussed making pregnant, thru some sort of courtroom sperm transference, the female defendants, just before the penalty phase of the trial so as to arouse emotions of life and pity in the jury. 

He was a new form of radical lawyer.  There was one point last summer when he was going to wear a white toga (from MGM Ben Hur props, buddy) to court - but it was made apparent to him that Judge Older's mind was not dialed anywhere near such an event.

It was refreshing when he brought several of R Crumb's comic books, including  Snatch #2, into court for the girls to read.  He was a great guy, with no hostile edges.  I never heard him say a cruel word about anybody.

Last June he and I went together to Inyo to visit the Barker and Myers Ranch, talk to the local miners, and generally go on hole patrol.  We drove one of the automobiles from his West L.A. automobile graveyard - black hulk of impending desolation that severally he had parked by his house.  In the middle of the Mojave desert in the middle of the night: wshoomp! the hood of the Stude fell away and sailed into the night and we spent a bit of time scouring on the hood.  Later we walked all over Barker ranch area looking for lost dune buggies, hidden camps and the layout of Manson's last stand.  It was a marvel to see him stalking in his tennis shoes down desolate canyons speaking data into his tape recorder.  He was great.

The greatest tribute to Ron Hughes came from a close friend who has back packed into the Sespe Hot Springs area almost daily looking for signs of him.  Often he was carted around thru the mud in Ventura County Sheriff's vehicles as he searched.  In spite of the close proximity of the police, Ron's friend nevertheless carried with him a waterproof jar with some rolled Ra weed joints so that should he find Ron safe, he could rejoice and hold a communal ritual of happiness.

How dare the void waste Ron Hughes?"

Ed Sanders.... On Death Row part 2



 

 

Los Angeles Free Press Vol. 7 No. 45 Issue # 329  Nov. 6, 1970 

continued....





Frank Fowles, the District Attorney of Inyo County, testified about some sound tests he conducted recently at Myers Ranch in the Death Valley National Monument.  His testimony was given to add strength to Barbara Hoyt's testimony that she heard Susan Atkins say that Sharon Tate was the last to die because she had to watch the others die first.  The overheard conversation allegedly took place inside the Myers Ranch, which is about a quarter of a mile up the wash from the famous Barker Ranch.

Fowles really wasn't needed at the trial, but probably was brought down by the prosecution as a courtesy measure.  He did not testify about the famous file of nude photos of the Family, including the whispered-over Manson-Little Patty-Clem Brenda circle slurp.  Nor did he testify about the camera equipment confiscated at the Barker Ranch in October of 1969 or the film therein which, according to authorities, when developed turned out to be blank.

The continued search for the head of Shorty O'Shea(sic) continues unabated.  There once was a stuntman ranch hand at the Spahn Ranch who disappeared.  His car, loaded up with all his gear (minus his matched pistols) was discovered in Canoga Park after he disappeared.  According to many sources, he was beheaded after a few weeks of friction with certain people.

Anyway, one Vern Plumlee, a former "member" of the Family who is currently held for some stabbing in Long Beach, led the police recently on a skull search of the burnt Spahn Ranch, which included a search of a large water tank high on the hills north of the ranch.  Vern claimed to the fuzz that Clem told him that Shorty was buried by a campfire down by the creek by the cave, but only chicken bones were discovered.  This is about the fifth time that a massive search for Shorty's body has been undertaken.

We checked with Thomas Noguci, the LA County Coroner, when the rumors about the Sheriff's Office looking anew for Mr. O'Shea(sic) were spreading about.  It is known that Devil's Canyon was held to be sacred long ago when Indians lived nearby.  Well, evidently when they were digging in Devil's Canyon early this year for Shorty, they uncovered some sort of Indian burial ground, a fact that hampered operations in that each skull had to be examined as to its age and likeness to the one sought.  They have not found Shorty.

Vern Plumlee is famous in Mansonian circles in that, armed with a sawed-off shotgun, he creepy crawled the homes of Jack Jones, the star, and Marvin Miller in July of 1969.  From the home of Jack Jones, creepy crawled at 2AM even though the lights were on, the c.-c.-ers took only a cowboy hat.  For verily they creepy crawled only to experience the tidal wave of the Great Fear.

One of the last prosecution witnesses is to be Dianne Lake, who had lived with Charlie Manson for almost two years prior to her arrest in Death Valley in October 1969.  After her arrest and after further arrests regarding the murders, she was placed in an insane asylum through a frightening police state-like collusion of the Los Angeles District Attorney, the Inyo County District Attorney and hospital authorities.

In late December 1969, Dianne Lake (known as Snake to the Family) was extensively interviewed by one Jack Gardiner and one Buck Gibbons (famous in that he confiscated Sandy Good's breast pump during the Barker Ranch raids) about activities of Manson and the Family.  Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Gibbons. who are employees of the Inyo County District Attorney's office, came up with some interesting data.  However, what power on earth could have predicted that the pretty and nubile Miss Lake would turn up a year later with Mr. Gardiner as her foster father!?

Anyway, early this year she was admitted, as a minor, into Paton State mental hospital.  Her legal parents tried to visit her and to claim her but were told to fuck off.  Hospital lackeys diagnosed her as follows: "Diagnosis: 295.0 Schizophrenia, chronic undifferentiated type (with group delinquent reaction). 308.58 Behavior disorder of childhood and adolescence. 304.7 Drug dependence, hallucinogens (prominent).  Prognosis: Extremely guarded for any improvement in this girl."

A Conservator was appointed for her- the Inyo County Coroner.  She remained in the nut hatch until this past August, even though she was reported by her captors to be sane about a week after she was committed.  After her release from Paton Hospital she has lived with her foster father.  In coming to court to testify the other day she bore a startling resemblance to the English cousin in the Patty Duke Show, with her hair combed in a similar manner, her faced scrubbed shiny and a white sailor shirt and blue skirt covering her body, which seems to be tending towards chub-chub.

In honor of her impending testimony the x-browed girls vigiling outside moved inside- the group of snuff sub-alterns moved inside to wait for Snake Lake.  As she walked into court escorted by her "Father" and by one of those smiling deputy DA's who took the place of Aaron Stovitz, Squeaky yelled out, "You ain't plastic and you know it. You can't turn your back on love."  As I write this Snake hasn't actually testified but as of a hearing on her ability to remember events of summer-fall 1969, she has been adjudged competent to testify.  She is expected to testify regarding conversations she heard about the death of Rosemary LaBianca and also about the disposal of certain items pertaining to the LaBianca crimes.

In addition, as of certain interviews we have undertaken over the months, Miss Lake has some interesting data in her mind regarding the Gary Hinman murder, data which would in our opinion cast considerable light on the reality of that grim tragedy.

On Friday, October 30, there was a hearing to declare Tex Watson insane. Everybody knew that Watson was out of it.  The former all-district halfback for Farmersville, Texas High School was down from 190 pounds to 110!  One kept hearing from various officials, "Aw, he's just malingering!"  But there was and is some danger that he will die, and the last thing Sheriff Peter Pitchess wants is for Tex Watson to die of malnutrition in the Los Angeles County Jail.  So the human skeleton of Charles Watson has been shipped to Atascadero State Hospital, where probably they will thorazine him up for a few months and feed him some sort of liquid mounds bar through the nose for a while and then ship him back for trial- that is, if he doesn't die; and the secret gossip in the Hall of Justice is that death is imminent. The report to the court reads that he is "rapidly reverting to a fetal state."  And you can better believe the DA is not going to let Tex Watson into a nut hatch unless he is really in heavy orbit.  Even now, however, officials are very hesitant to say he is really insane, but rather say that "he's doing it to himself."

If he dies, it will be the fault of the District Attorney's office- because Charles Manson in front of witnesses, offered to bring him out of it.  Manson is alleged to have said, "Just give me 20 minutes with him alone and I will bring him back." 

Where was Sharon Tate on August 2, 1969?

Ed Sanders... On Death Row part 1

Los Angeles Free Press Vol. 7 No. 45 Issue # 329  Nov. 6, 1970

Beausoleil, Manson, Death Row & the gas chamber, revisited

Ed Sanders

It seemed incongruous to be discussing Frank Zappa with a condemned man on Death Row, San Quentin.  But we were, Beausoleil and I, sitting in a little yellow room together during a nervous hour wherein the subject went from murder to music to Tim Leary to Aleister Crowley.

Visiting San Quentin was wonderful.  I took a bus from San Francisco north to San Rafael and then copped a Yellow Cab to the austere bayside prison.  They zap you with a metal scanner; then you walk up the flower-lined road to the visitors turret, whereat you announce the name of the person you intend to visit.  The waiting room has benches similar to those in bus depot waiting rooms and the walls are lined with art works by inmates, all for sale.  There are display cases filled with handcrafted jewelry and leatherwork, cable car desk lamps and wood workings of various kinds.  Softly in the background plays the country music station.  Waiting to see Bob Beausoleil one was treated to Roger Miller, a Johnny Cash top 20 golden hits album commercial from Columbia Records, and the Tammy Wynette song about how difficult it is to be faithful to just one man, especially if he is a creep.

Beausoleil's name was called from the speaker system and we walked into the visitors room.  For condemned prisoners, visits are conducted in a private locked cell so I was placed immediately in this ten by six yellow room and clang clang the door was locked behind me.  Soon Bob arrived and relieved for us the grim sensation of being alone in a locked cell.  Beausoleil had heeded the Manson appeal to X the forehead, and his was almost healed.  He was attired in jeans and a blue denim work shirt, his chin covered with a short goatee.

He seemed calm enough.  One had heard many times of the strange change in the behavior of condemned men on Death Row, whereby they allegedly become rather brutish and choppily feral.  Not so, it seems, with Beausoleil, who seemed calm and rather placid, given the circumstances of possible future green lung invasion.

We talked of many things: of the days in San Francisco when Beausoleil lived with filmmaker Kenneth Anger and helped Anger make "Lucifer Rising";  of the Topanga Canyon days of 1968 when Beausoleil played an Indian scout in the immortal tennis shoe classic, Ramrodder; of the long ago days when he participated in those innocent Mother's freakouts.  "Frank used to let me get up on stage- sing harmony on the Oldies but Goodies- you know with Vito and the others," he recalled.  He mentioned how he visited Zappa in the spring of 1969 and tried to interest him in recording the Family; but evidently there was no interest.

Mr. Beausoleil is reticent in the area of conversation dealing with the murder of Gary Hinman.  As you know he fingered Mr. Manson out as the snuffer when he testified at his second trial, but since then he has given no indication that he is sticking by that story.  But none, either, that he is not sticking to his testimony.  Time will tell.

Whatever happened, Beausoleil is a now-generation American.  His parents are straight, law-abiding US citizens who pray before their meals.  During Bob Beausoleil's second trial we had lunch with them several times at the various hideous cafeterias in the downtown public buildings, and one heard prayers for the first time in ten years.  They stood up for their son with a Confucian fervor throughout his trials. 

It's hard to know what happened but certainly the Hornet God summoned by the early Acid Tests descended upon Robert Kenneth Beausoleil, who is legally dead.  And it is the media and their clients, the blood-thirsty ghoul-brains of the public, that will have sent him to the gas chamber.  For only after his association with Manson became public knowledge and it became obvious that if he were not given the death penalty then Charles Manson (AKA Devil) probably would not receive it- only then did Evelle Younger and his underlings decide to kill him.  It must ever be remembered in his first trial, ending in a hung jury, the prosecution did not ask for lung-snuff.  And for over a year the papers have buried thousands of important issues beneath a myriad of headlines and hype stories about this relatively unimportant series of murders.  You don't see any headlines about napalmed rice paddies.  You don't see any headlines about payoffs connected with this case. You don't see any conciliation or peace in the papers.  The newspapers are like a devilish sermon of fire, with their endless pages of ads of badly made life props, with their boring collations of butchery.  And Manson is an alcoholic editor's dream come true- oversexed, acid-gobbling, long-haired, nearly middle-aged, song-singing, devil-worshiping, bastard son of a teen-aged prostitute who thinks he's Jesus and who formerly was arrested for white slavery.  With people like Manson on the front page, you don't have to do any serious investigative reporting.  And the authorities can shoot as many Mexican-Americans as they want.  And the real criminals, the criminals with the computers and the oil slicks, walk around worshiped.

Meanwhile back at the Hall of Justice, the prosecution is preparing to rest their case.  Rudy Altobelli, the sharp witted gentleman who owns the house at 10050 Cielo Drive, testified about his encounter with Charles Manson on March 23, 1969, when Charlie came to the guest house looking for Terry Melcher.  Mr. Altobelli had met Manson before at Dennis Wilson's house. Altobelli testified that he told Manson that Terry was living out in Malibu, probably with his mother.

Irving Kanarek, when cross-examining Mr. Altobelli, almost created a few heart attacks in the defense camp when he asked Altobelli the following question:  "When was the first time, Mr. Altobelli,  that you had occasion to recall the proported presence of Mr. Manson on your premises in what you say is March of 1969? When was the first you had to recall it after it allegedly happened?"

Altobelli answered: "When I was flying to Rome with Sharon." Well, when he said this, everybody thought that Altobelli was about to gun down the whole helter-skelter motive for the murders.  Kanarek was quick to change the line of questioning, even though Altobelli interjected that he was willing to explain his answer.  Nor did the prosecutor, Mr. Bugliosi, go into it on redirect examination.

Interestingly, Altobelli testified that when he was rushing back from Europe after the murders, he thought of Manson as a possible suspect but did not blow it to police when they questioned him.

Then the prosecution was going to bring to the stand a Sgt. Maupin, who works in the Hall of Justice escorting prisoners around. Allegedly, Manson (last June 10) offered Maupin $100,000 to help him escape.  The idea is absurd that Charlie would have 100 grand laying around- unless the rumors that Manson has two secret sponsors are true- it is so absurd that it would seem to me to detract from the main body of evidence the prosecution has presented, rather than add to it.  In any case something must have happened in chambers to prevent it, because I don't believe that the good sergeant got to testify in front of the jury.

Brooks Postin (sic), famous in Manson circles for his ability to enter into the trance state at will, testified about the meaning of "Helter Skelter" in terms of the prosecution's contention that Sharon Tate, Jay Sebring, Voityck Frykowski , Steve Parent and Abigail Folger died as part of a deliberate scheme to trigger off the destruction of the United States by black militants.  I mean, come off it.  The real story will be told, and it is already typed and locked away safely. 

Paul Watkins, famous for his National Enquirer "I Was Satan's Second In Command" article of many months ago, testified also about Helter Skelter.  Watkins was at one point, according to his testimony, an avid follower of Mr. Manson.  He thought Manson to be Jesus, in fact.  Ron Hughes asked some interesting questions of Mr. Watkins on cross-examination, such as:  "Can you tell us about Charlie's power?"  To which Watkins answered, "It's a maze of agreements and implied agreements."  Hughes also asked a couple of questions about a legendary event in the history of the Family:  The Miracle at the House on Gresham Street.  Manson, according to legend, had his membrum virile bitten in twain by a young lady named Bo in the spring of 1969, causing blood to spew in all directions.  Manson, through magical healing powers, was able to sew himself together and heal the sutures, all in one occult swoosh, so even the scars were removed.  Watkins testified that he, himself, had not seen the event, but that it occurred when Manson and the others were living on Gresham Street in Canoga Park.

Stay tuned for the last half of this article that hopefully will run tomorrow.

My Interface With The Manson Family, by Sue Marshall: Part 3 of 3

The Trial

A few months later, in March 1970, writer Ed Sanders arrived from New York.  He had obtained the consent of Freep editor Art Kunkin to represent the paper in covering the trials of Manson and his followers.

This was a delightful two-fer for me.  First, I was freed from the duty of covering the trial, thereby allowing me to pursue news that was more in keeping with my interests.  Second, Ed turned out to be a delightful colleague, always very professional and pleasant. Later, he would be the sole reporter of Mansonite lore who would actually imbed himself in the Family in order to get an accurate story, from their point of view rather than the perspective of law enforcement.

The trial started in late 1970 and continued into 1971.  At some point in the proceedings, perhaps when Manson was forbidden to act as his own attorney, he shaved his head and carved an "X" in his forehead.

One day as I tromped up to the Hall of Justice to cover the L.A. Black Panther trial, I encountered Squeaky, Sandy, and other Mansonite girls. They were squatting on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, as was their custom. They had also shaved their heads and carved X's into their foreheads.  They spoke to me, but all they could say was some nonsensical prattle that they had learned from their cult leader.  Looking back, I am sure that they were hungry and cold and in acute emotional distress. I did not stop to converse with them.  Their scene was just too horrifying.


Three Minutes with Manson

One day in early 1971 I accomplished a journalistic coup:  an interview with Elmer (Geronimo) Pratt, Minister of Defense for the L.A. Black Panther Party[7]. He was being held in the jail in the upper floors of the old Hall of Justice downtown during his own trial.

Through the services of a leftist lawyer connected with the case, I was able to interview Pratt in the Hall of Justice attorneys' room.  The rules allowed only one person to be with the inmate at a time, so the lawyer departed.  I stood at the north end of the long room, with its well-buffed linoleum floor and GSA steel desks, waiting for the county sheriff's deputies to bring Pratt.

To my surprise, at the south end of the room, the sheriffim opened the door and escorted in none other than Charles Manson.  He was shackled.  He stood there for several minutes, staring at me.

Few events in my life have been so astonishing. I stared back at Manson, hoping that he would not mistake my fascination for the devotion he got from his hapless followers.  I stared at him in the same sense that one stares at a biological oddity, a hideous monster fish from the darkest depths, now on public display in some aquarium.  He was short, scruffy, ugly.  I hope my glance conveyed my scorn and contempt.


Conclusion

Had I formed an opinion in 1971 as to the culpability of Manson and his followers in all those murders?  Perhaps not.  But the creepy subservience of the Manson Family girls with whom I was acquainted was enough to convince me that the man was evil incarnate.

By the time of the trials, it was clear that despite the excesses of law enforcement during that era, the cops had correctly identified the murderers of Hinman, Shea, the Tate household, and the LaBiancas.

So I will turn to the question that has vexed every student of the Manson Family:  how the hell did he get all those girls to subjugate themselves to his psychopathic bullshit?  How did he get them to commit murder for him?

With a modern perspective on what makes people tick, I favor the concept used by psychologists that there is something called "executive function", the biochemical basis for good old-fashioned common sense,

The female followers of Manson and his male counterparts would seem to have a gaping deficit in the executive function department.  In general, I  believe that bad taste in boyfriends is the primary cause of women being in jail.  While there is no doubt that some of his followers were psychopaths just like Manson[8], not all of them could have been.  Certainly overdosing on the drugs available then (and now) can make people crazy.  And crazy people can be susceptible to suggestion.

Finally, there is the almost-forgotten zeitgeist of the era before contraception was widely available – the era into which the Manson followers were born. The parents of the Manson followers could not limit the number of children they had.  This led to the phenomenon of 1960s-era "throwaway children." Dads returned from WWII or the Korean War and took up the Playboy Philosophy, leaving the Moms with too-large families to support. Some kids were rejected; others simply got neglected. Some of the Mansonites may have emerged from that type of situation.  In 21st Century America, few of us still recall those times.

Maybe it all comes down to the presence of evil in the world.  Maybe – assuming that one has common sense equal to one of Ruby Pearl's chickens – the moral person must be vigilant against getting sucked into evil. Is that not a lesson from Nazi Germany, when ordinary people became evil, one small step at a time?


end

Footnotes:

[7] Pratt served 27 years in prison for a murder he apparently did not commit. His conviction was vacated in 1997 after it was revealed that the chief witness against him was an FBI mole placed through the COINTELPRO offensive.

[8] The late Susan Denise Atkins comes to mind.

My Interface With The Manson Family, by Sue Marshall: Part 2 of 3

The Yellow Submarine House

The following day, a group of us Freep staffers drove to the West Valley in two cars. Since I lived in East Hollywood, in the opposite direction, I drove alone in my battered yellow Ford Falcon.  Paul, Shirley, and Judie lived in Reseda, in the same general direction as the Family.  The rendezvous point was the one-story ranch-style house the Family called the Yellow Submarine.[1]

The vivid detail that sticks in my memory was an antique (or imitation antique) sign on the front porch reading:  Doctor Sigafoos, Diseases of the Colon and Rectum.[2]

We were greeted by two of the men.  I believe one was "Clem," Steve Grogan.  The other may have been Bruce Davis or Dennis Rice.  These guys reminded me of weasels or ferrets.  They were thin and dirty, with the wise-ass demeanor of jailbirds. The young women were summoned from the back of the house.  We all sat in the living room on regular chairs and sofas.  I do not recall the décor in detail, but it lacked the ornate arrangements of India prints, temple bells, candles, incense, and psychedelic posters that were the hallmark of good hippie housekeeping in that era.

I stared at the girls.  Squeaky Lyn was a redhead. Gypsy had very black hair.  Sandy Good was a blonde.  They all wore the same odd hair style:  cut short at  ear length, with a few strands left long at one side of their faces. Ed Sanders would learn later that Manson had ordered his female followers to submit to a ritual tonsure, with the harvested hair woven into a vest that was presented to Charlie. [3]

One of the men, again I think it was Clem, began to hold forth:

The police had it in for Charlie. Why, a cop could sit in a topless bar in Van Nuys all evening and still not succeed in getting laid.  Wouldn't it make him want to nail Charlie, who was surrounded by pretty girls who were happy to do his bidding?

As if on cue, the girls assumed insincere smiles. There was something creepy about the scene.

But here we were, in the West Valley, a district that would become the epicenter of the loathsome L.A. porn industry.  This was early in the progress of the women's liberation movement, but I was struck by the subservience and robot-like sexuality that the Manson girls were enacting.  I had observed this vibe before around the West Hollywood groupie scene, from the young women who gravitated to rock bands.  I had already come to the conclusion that all rock musicians were assholes. So what we were witnessing was, thus far, par for the course.

The Spahn Ranch

With this preliminary indoctrination accomplished, our caravan left for the Spahn Ranch.

The Santa Susana Hills look like the backdrop of every old Western movie you've seen.

When I was a child in L.A. in the 1950s, there was no Ronald Reagan Freeway to expedite the trip between the northwest San Fernando Valley and Ventura. High above Simi Valley, a road passed along the eventual freeway route and crossed Santa Susana Pass.  It is here I would feel a great excitement, for my family would only be here if we were headed for Corriganville.

Movie stuntman Crash Corrigan had developed a small theme park and tourist trap amid his movie set in Chatsworth.  There was a fake old-West town, with false-front buildings, raised plank sidewalks, hitching posts for horses, and a rustic one-room jail, complete with barred windows. Actors would simulate gunfights for the delight of the children.  We had been raised on Western movies and TV.

At Corriganville, the surrounding hills, dotted with massive granite boulders and yucca, set the stage for those Westerns. When I was in Corriganville I was in paradise.

When our party arrived at the Spahn Ranch, I had a moment of the same giddy excitement. By some measures, at age 18 I was still a kid. I looked around at the desert hillsides, at the movie-set Western town.  The Spahn Ranch movie set was smaller than Corriganville, but it looked very similar, and the two sites were not far away from each other.

I had come to the Spahn Ranch expecting a hippie commune, perhaps with noir overtones.  But what I saw was HORSES!

To my surprise, I saw that the young women of the extended Manson family were seriously engaged in the work of renting out horses for trail rides. They were running a business there[4].  I fought a strong impulse to run to the rental corral, mount up, and explore the desert hills on horseback.  Or at least go pet the horses.

But I was a professional.  I was there to do a job. I had come to interview subjects for a news article.  Would I get the by-line?[5]  I was new on the job and eager to prove my ability.

Glancing around the movie ranch, I saw Ruby Pearl, the old cowgirl who was George Spahn's sidekick.  She emerged onto the back porch of the main house. Her orange hair was pinned up in braids around her head. She looked bemused at the scene all around her.  She must have been seeing strangers  everywhere invading her home, hippies outnumbering the horse rental customers.  And now a new group had arrived from the Freep. We were not introduced to her. She must have perceived us merely as more hippies.  She held a pan of grain.  The chickens strutted, clucking, up to the back porch where she stood.  Ruby Pearl tossed out the feed.

In the yard we were greeted by Sandy Good, holding her infant son. She told us his name was Ivan, or Elf.  She smiled and said that his father was Bobby Beausoleil.

The wind blew. We followed the Mansonites into one of the fake-western buildings. I think it was the General Store. We found seats.  A fine layer of gritty dust covered everything, as you would expect at a desert horse ranch where not a lot of cleaning was done. One hanger-on was a teenage girl, from some suburban home, incongruously dressed in clean white pants.  And she still had all her long hair.  I concluded that she must be a very recent recruit.

Gypsy took up her guitar and soulfully sang Cease to Exist, the song Manson had almost succeeded in selling to the Beach Boys.[6]

I have no recollection of whatever desultory conversation we had that afternoon.  No food or drink was served and no joints were passed. It was like many a hippie commune, without any money to speak of, and with little attention paid to household cleanliness or personal hygiene.  Perhaps the Mansonites were trying to convince us of how normal they were.

The hour grew late, and we departed at dusk.

Footnotes:

[1] According to research by Ed Sanders, the address of this house was on Gresham Street in Canoga Park.  He says the Mansonites were evicted shortly after our visit and that the house has been demolished since the events recounted here.

[2] Although I don’t recall the exact name of the purported physician, it wasn’t really “Sigafoos”.

[3] Don’t you wonder where this artifact might be today?

[4] Manson had negotiated accommodations for his entourage from elderly George Spahn;  the deal was that the girls would manage the rent string and the horse rental business. Squeaky was assigned to provide oral sex to keep George contented. Her Family name was derived from the sounds she emitted when the old gentleman felt her up, according to Ed Sanders.

[5] As I recall, it was Paul, as managing editor, who got the by-line. He seemed taken in by Clem’s rationale for the LAPD aversion to Manson. In the weeks that followed, I did not care much that I was not assigned to write an article about the Family. Now, in my maturity, I am very relieved.  I would not have been able to publish any sentiments that the Family would have found satisfactory. Who knows what might have resulted?

[6] According to the story, the Beach Boys had insisted in making revisions to the lyrics, including changing the title to Cease to Resist. This move toward marketability was unacceptable to Manson.

My Interface With The Manson Family, by Sue Marshall: Part 1 of 3

This series comes exclusively to Eviliz.com from Sue Marshall, a writer who lives in California. Sue will be monitoring the blog for the next few days to field your questions.

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At the time the Manson Family perpetrated the Tate-LaBianca murders, I had just graduated from Santa Monica High School.  Shortly thereafter I began  writing on a freelance basis for the Los Angeles Free Press, a tabloid weekly that provided sensational coverage of the counterculture, to much acclaim.

In November 1969, I was hired by the Freep as a staff writer. I began to cover the antiwar movement. Later, I would be named "military editor." To my amazement, I was soon receiving a lot of mail from soldiers in Vietnam who would prefer to be anywhere else.  My journalistic focus inclined toward covering serious news about the peace movement, social justice, and women's liberation.

Around the same time, mid-October 1969, Manson and some of the Family members were arrested at the Barker Ranch in the Panamint Mountains, now within the boundaries of Death Valley National Park.  Charges filed included auto theft and arson. It took the police authorities a few weeks to figure out who to arrest for the Tate-LaBianca murders, as well as those of Gary Hinman and Shorty Shea.


Gary Hinman

Coincidentally, I was acquainted with Manson Family victim Gary Hinman.

In the spring of 1968, as a high school junior, I met a young man named Gabriel, a musician, who recruited me to come to a Buddhist meeting. Thus I discovered the Pacific Palisades chapter of the Nicherin Shoshu Sokagakki, the Buddhist cult that chants "Nam Myho Renge Kyo" and conducts a vigorous proselytization effort. Being curious, bored, and interested in meeting young men, I joined up.

In August 1968, the sect held a convention in Honolulu. Seizing this  opportunity to have a little adventure, I had saved my earnings from a summer job and flew to Hawaii with the group.  There I met Gary Hinman.

Hinman seemed much older and wiser than the rest of us. He must have been in his early 30's. He was not very tall, of thin build, with straight brown hair of medium length and a brown beard.  He smiled and did not talk much.  He wrote his address and phone number in my little red book.  I could have gone to visit him at his house in Topanga Canyon, later to be the scene of his demise.  But I never called him. Could Gary's open and welcoming nature have eased the way for Manson and his followers to have access to him?  I suspect so.


A Visit from Sandy Good, Squeaky Lyn, and Gypsy

By December 1969, the police had arrested most or all of the Manson Family members who had been involved in the string of murders.  I was still very new in my job as a reporter when the Freep office was visited by a trio who would later become infamous in their own right.

At that time, the Free Press office was located on the north side of Beverly Boulevard, one block east of La Brea, across from CBS Television City. Because of earlier bomb threats from anti-Castro Cubans, the door between the lobby and the offices was controlled with an electric latch.  Before anyone could enter, receptionist Dee would have to buzz them in.

It was in this dim lobby, with bright sunbeams filtering through the glass door, that Sandy Good, "Squeaky" Lynette Fromme, and "Gypsy" (Catherine Share) introduced themselves to me and my neighbor, Michael.  They were carrying a stack of vinyl records: Charlie Manson's original songs performed by the Family, with Gypsy playing acoustic guitar.  The appearance of the cover art made it obvious that this was not a product of the slick record companies.  It was a blurry black-and-white version of the Life magazine cover photo of Manson with his trademark stare. The only title, in block letters, was the word "LIE," in an attempt to mimic the magazine logo.

My neighbor Michael immediately produced the five dollars that the young women were asking for their record.  If I had bought one from them then, it would be probably worth ten thousand dollars today.  But I probably didn't have five dollars in my pocket, and the Manson Family trio were activating my weirdness radar.

Soon we were joined by managing editor Paul and advertising administrator Shirley. They were very intrigued by our visitors.


We listened to the spiel:

Charlie, they said, had been targeted by the LAPD because he was having a good time with his Family.  He never did anything criminal, they said.  Everyone was innocent.  It was Us versus the Man. The Pigs were scapegoating hippies because they needed to solve these murders.

All this sounded plausible.  We made an appointment to meet the Family at their stronghold.