Pt 1 Sharon's Premonition: Sharon Tate, Charles Manson, The Beatles & Hollywood's Satanic Spell

Thanks, William Marshall!

Coda: The Mendocino Murders

Coda - a passage that ends a 
musical piece following 
the main body.

Judging by comments in the Witches of Mendocino Files posts we think there are some readers who aren't completely familiar with why that incident is important to the overall story - that many people still believe that the Manson Family may have been responsible for the murders of Clyda Dulaney and Nancy Warren.

Here is a recap of the entire story.

As you may remember, Manson sent a group of Family members up to Mendocino County to scout for a new permanent residence. This happened around May of 1968. Sadie, Mary and the gang were zealously trying to gain young recruits. They were dirty - they stunk and the bus stunk - they were also high profile with their drug use, even though they had infants in tow. The locals branded them the "Witches of Mendocino."

On June 21, 1968 they apparently dosed 17 year-old Allen Rosenthal on some acid. His mother called law enforcement. When they responded Allen was babbling about his legs being like snakes. Mom pointed the finger at the "Witches" and the raid was on.

The Manson Family (although they weren't called that publicly yet) were now the biggest story in Mendocino.

---

Here's something interesting we learned while researching the Mendocino fiasco:

In Mendocino County, Boonville and the Anderson Valley has its own language called Boontling. Here's the wiki on it as well as a video. They're not a definitive on the language but they give us a good idea of how it works. The Wiki article has references if any of you care to learn more. We wonder if the Witches may have picked up on Boontling and used a variation they created themselves. ZuZu's for candy comes to mind. The Family was well known to cackle in a language that only those in the know would have any idea what they were talking about. Is this where it began?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boontling

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Law enforcement now began to run down leads in the case. Here are two articles from the Ukiah Press Democrat from October 15, 1968:

The second article tells the story of Clyda Dulany's children and what happened the morning the murders were discovered by her oldest son Johnny, who was seven years old at the time. Johnny having seen the bodies of his mother and grandmother woke his brothers. The grabbed their piggy banks and ran to a neighbor a quarter of a mile away.

This spurred Manson Blog to locate Johnny Ussery if he were indeed still living. We was and we did. He agreed to an interview. Our then Southeastern US Correspondent (St Circumstance) was dispatched to Johnny's house. Here is some of what he told Saint in his own words:

"I knew I was late because I could see the sun shining through my window, and that normally hasn't happened yet when I wake up.  I went out to my mother's bedroom and I immediately noticed the bed was still made, which I thought was weird. Her purse was open and dumped out all over the bed, which nobody had slept in. None of it made any sense. I went outside. There was a gravel walkway between our trailer and my grandmother's trailer. My grandmother lived in one trailer by herself, and mom, me and my brothers lived in another trailer right next door. We always went over there for meals and stuff. I went outside and right away I saw mom lying on the gravel between the trailers. The thing I'll never forget is that she was blonde, and her face looked the same color as her hair. She was all white. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I screamed like crazy and ran into my grandmothers trailer. The first thing I noticed was that the television was still on, but the screen was fuzzy. Then I saw her lying there the same way as mom. I ran out of there.  I didn’t want to pass back by my mother, so I went out of the back of my grandmother's trailer and went around the back to ours. I got up my brothers and dressed them and started to get them out of there. I will never understand why, but something made me stop and grab the three piggy banks we kept on top of the refrigerator. With one each in our arms, we ran to a neighbor’s house where I told them mommy and grandma are dead. I remember after a little while looking across the field at the trailer and seeing all the cop cars. I remember everything up to that point crystal clear."

"To my knowledge, nobody ever asked me a single time about the crimes. not one police officer ever. But remember what I told you earlier, after I got to the neighbors and told them what I had found, the next few years are mostly a blur. I don't remember almost anything. That lawsuit was really instigated by one person and any details of number, or sex, didn’t come from me. This person is the one who always pushed that stuff."

"You know what, you might think this is interesting too. My father did an unusual amount  of time in prison back in the day. You know how Charlie Manson is in Corcoran Prison now? Well, he used to be in this prison called Vacaville. Well, dad was at Vacaville for a while, and he told me he was walking down the halls one day with a bunch of guys, and they see Charlie Manson sweeping one of the floors. That was his job at the time - sweeping floors. Anyway, my dad sees he is not looking at them and shouts over to Charlie, 'Hey, who did that thing up in Ukiah?' Now dad told me there was no way Charlie could have known exactly which guy yelled it at him, but he looked up and looked dad right in the eye. He said back directly to dad, 'You'll never know will ya?' Then he looked back down and went back to sweeping without another word. Dad said it was eerie having him stare right into his eyes like that..."

"I’d love to find out who killed my mother and grandmother", Johnny told St. C. "Many others do as well", St. Circumstance replied back.

One result of publishing that story was that a childhood friend of Johnny's (Ginger) was able to make contact with him and now Johnny has pictures and home move clips of his mom that were presumed lost. That if nothing else made the endeavor worthwhile:

Clyda Dulaney

These murders were never officially solved. The presence of Manson Family members at the time in Mendocino County have led many to speculate that they could have been the culprits. Here is a 2008 Anderson Valley Advertiser article discussing the Dulaney/Warren murders. The Warren/Dulaney case begins about midway down column 1 :

Our posts on this topic were eye-opening to the authors of this blog. Not mentioned in the posts in any detail was that we also found and spoke to detectives and reporters from Mendocino County. Those contacts and other clues formed our personal opinions on what may have really happened. For now, we'll have to keep those cards close to our chests.

The Witches of Mendocino Court Files (The Complete 83 Page PDF)

The Witches of Mendocino Court Files is now available to download. It has been compiled into a single 83 page PDF. CieloDrive.com has graciously agreed to host the document.

You can download it HERE. 

Thanks, CieloDrive!

Paul Crockett's Marriage

Did you know that Paul Crockett got married to his long time wife on the 10th anniversary of the Tate murders?  I did some checking and found that the 8th of August was on a Wednesday in 1979 so it seems like that date was deliberately chosen.

How about that!  Celebrating what should be a joyous occasion on the anniversary of the Tate murders somehow seems weird, creepy and bizarre considering that he was so closely involved with the case and Family members.

The first document has Paul's middle name misspelled and the second document amends the first.

The Witches of Mendocino Court Files Part 2

Here is the report from the Mendocino County Probation Department on Mary Brunner. It is less kind to Mary than Sadie's report was to her. I suppose it had something to do with Mary having been college educated and being a mother. The report certainly frowned on Mary having allowed Cathran Smith/Patricia Krenwinkel to claim Michael as her own child.

We hope to make the entire file available to everyone soon. There is more good stuff along with the procedural documents. 

The Witches of Mendocino Court Files: Part 1

Our Chief Assassin Deb has unearthed the court files relating to the Witches of Mendocino fiasco of 1968. We will present 2-3 sections of it here over the next week after which we will make the entire 82 page file available via email (or some way or another).

We found the biographies and probation recommendations very interesting. They were very sympathetic to Sadie, but not as kind to Mary.

Here are the 10 pages devoted to Sadie. It contains a really good biography followed up by the court’s opinion of her personality, mental state, etc.

It also DOCUMENTS that they were calling themselves the "family" back in 1968. It has been widely believed that the term was not coined until the summer of 1969 by some of the girls at Spahn Ranch. Manson himself has also said that there was "no family".

Documentation always ALWAYS  A L W A Y S trumps interviews and "first hand accounts".

Enjoy...

Manson, a Black Woman and Nietzsche

 An introductory to this story is necessary.  Wanda Coleman was an acclaimed Black poet and author from Watts in the South Central area of Los Angeles.  She was married to a white man named Charlie Coleman with whom she had two children.  During the summer of 1968 Wanda and Charlie with their kids regularly went to Griffith Park in LA.  It was there that Wanda and Charlie Coleman met Charles Manson and a few of the girls.

This is an excerpt from a chapbook titled love-ins with Nietzsche published in 2000.  Coleman interspersed her memoir with quotes by Nietzsche whose work she was introduced to by a high school teacher.  She had a unique ability to extract the essence of Nietzsche's writings and adapt them to her own circumstances.  Nietzsche certainly wasn't writing  to an audience of young black women of the '60's.
 

I found Coleman's story to be an interesting asterisk  in the Manson saga especially as it relates to Manson's views on Blacks.  Coleman refers to her husband as Charlie in this narrative and to Manson as Charles except in one instance which is fairly apparent.
 

"Reports about gatherings of 'the beautiful people' in local parks were on the grapevine- feeding the poor and sharing songs at be-ins and love-ins.  Eagerly, we joined the throng, acutely aware that our double lives had doubled again.  We soon had two children, a boy and a girl.  Often we packed a lunch and Thermos to spend mornings and afternoons among 'the flower children,' picnicking and dancing to conga drum music, ogling trinkets for sale, collecting leaflets- basking in a sandalwood-scented atmosphere of unbridled peace, love and sexual freedom.  The evening and night of the same day, we might find ourselves in the backroom of a community center, abandoned building or church debating the merits of sit-ins, boycotts and armed struggle, wondering who was the counterintelligence snitch.  Charlie loved the excitement and danger.  I sat owl-eyed and silent, keeping my cynicism- on both extremes- to myself.  Nearly four years would pass before our two disparate worlds would merge during the Griffith Park love-ins of summer 1968.
 

Charlie had promised to help a peace charity set up their tables to hand out free food.  We packed up our babies, double stroller and diaper bag, and went into our larder for a jar of Skippy's peanut butter and strawberry preserves to donate.  It was early when we arrived, the area was deserted.  My habit was to anchor myself to our blanket with my book, playing with the children while they crawled and toddled, keeping one eye on the oversized guitar case.  Charlie had added a 12-string to his collection.  His habit was to roam, strapped with the lighter acoustical guitar, mouth harp in a pocket or neck brace.
 

The park filed with a vast assortment of people, but Charlie gravitated to musicians, spending most of his time with the conga drummers.  If he liked someone, he brought them to meet me, or moved us to their spot.  this particular Saturday morning, only the families were there, tents up, homemade standards flying.  There were ten to a dozen of them.  He rarely visited the families.  They struck him as strange.  But once the tables had been set up, Charlie found nothing to do.  The conga drummers hadn't arrived, and the crowd was disappointingly sparse.
 

"Curiosity ain't killed this cat," he'd say as he kissed me good-bye before wandering the park.  "I got nine lives and always landed on my feet."
 

He returned a couple of hours later, ecstatic, urging me to hurry, pack up the babies and the 12-string.  He had discovered a kindred spirit.  The man led a family that was virtually all female.  He was also a songwriter and was trying to learn how to play the guitar well enough to perform his own music.  He was looking for someone tolerant enough to jam with him.  Not only that, he like to 'debate politics,' enjoying talk hard and fast.  They liked one another instantly.  the man was short, White and 'a righteous brother.'  Best of all they were both named Charlie.  Blushing, he confessed they had shared the peace pipe.
 

We walked to the tent.  My Charlie introduced us.  Manson's eyes glittered when he looked up at me.  I was not what he expected.  I was darker than assumed, a full head taller and outweighed him by eighty pounds.  Charles was not the type Charlie was usually drawn to.  His angular face and sable shoulder-length hair, gave him the look of a shrunken, wily-eyed Christ.  We shook hands, his bony grip firm.  We went outside and Charles helped us set our belongings near the tent.  The girls were 'off and around,' and the two Charlie's wasted no time resuming their talk.  I was not able to sit idly by and listen.  I joined in, keeping one eye on the children, breaking from the conversation only to feed them and change diapers.  We chewed over such issues as the Warren Commission report on the death of JFK, voters rights, Mao, Castro and Che.  When the talk turned to music, I excused myself while the two Charlie's studied lead sheets.
 

As our afternoon wound to a close, Charles noticed I was carrying my volume of Nietzsche and asked if he could see it.  He thumbed through it and asked if he could borrow it.  I made him swear an oath to give it back.  He kept his word.  But when he returned it two weekends later, he had questions.  Didn't I realize that what Nietzsche wrote wasn't intended for the likes of me?   Especially the part about a race of supermen?  As a Negro wasn't I offended by Nietzsche?  My Charlie chimed in.  And it wasn't long before we got around to one of the two Charlie's favorite topics, if for different reasons- race war.
 

I eloquently parroted the going militant rhetoric.  This amused Charles.  He asserted he wasn't a racist, but a realist, and bluntly dismissed my arguments for Black revolution as ludicrous.  Charlie idolized John Brown, the song and the man.  His contribution to the argument centered around Brown's attack on Harper's Ferry- that Whites could and would one day lead Blacks into armed struggle, that struggle would be integrated.  Charles Manson turned his illustration around as evidence for his assertion that legions of Blacks did not rise up to join Brown because they couldn't.  Negroes had been whipped, co-opted and cowed by slavery.  Blacks would never rise up against Whites, if history were any witness.  They loved Whites too much.  Denmark Vesey was the exception, not the rule.  Manson maintained that if any cultural revolution- or revolution of any kind- was to take place in the U.S., only Whites could defeat Whites because Blacks- if Martin Luther King were any example- did not have the guts or the intelligence to lead either an armed or organized resistance.  Whites would have to do it for them.
 

I immediately dropped my third of the argument, took my Nietzsche and retired to the blanket with the babies.  Early in our encounter, Charles had suggested that I check out his women.  Two of the dazed-eyed naiads took me by the arm and led me to the women's quarters.  Curious, I made an attempt.  they liked playing with our kids.  But I could not connect.  We had nothing in common.  Their sole interest was their reverence for their Charlie.  They spent hours discussing his needs, wants and lessons.  Otherwise, they seemed spaced out, or high- flitting about without ambition or purpose.  I had no experience with the drug culture and no way of understanding who they were.
 

Charles repeatedly invited us to visit Spahn Movie Ranch.  Things were extremely tough for us.  Life was love-filled but terrible.  Charlie couldn't get a decent job to keep one and I couldn't get work because of my inexperience, pregnancies and color.  We lived on public assistance, between any odd job he could get.  We drove old clunkers for as long as we could keep them running.  We always needed money, and Manson was eager to involve Charlie in a couple of schemes.  One Saturday morning, Charlie accepted Manson's offer and went out to Chatsworth.  I stayed with the children, fingers crossed.
 

Charlie was gone virtually the entire day and returned after sunset without a dime.  I had been worried.  When he came in he looked haggard, hands in his pockets.  He stood in the doorway, in his denim jacket and jeans, lamb's wool cap tilted slightly forward on his forehead.  I was eager to hear the news.  What kind of job was it?
 

"Sweetheart," he said solemnly.  "Those are some baaad people."
 

The 'job' had involved auto theft.
 

Charlie was proud of his outlaw status as a renegade civil rights worker.  But he was not a criminal.  He had walked away from Charles Manson without ever looking back.  He was twenty-six, going on twenty-seven and I was twenty-one.  Within the year, our relationship, too, would end."
 

"There are the terrible ones who carry about in themselves the beast of prey, and have no choice except lusts or self-laceration.  And even their lusts are self-lacerations"- Nietzsche.

The Tate Murders were a False Flag?

Wow.  This is an 84 page pdf FULL of photos, and text to say that the murders never really happened.  They were staged.

And:
Tex is really CIA and only "shows" up every few years to play his part in the parole hearings.
Susan Atkins was also CIA
Penny Daniels interview was a "flying farce" (I'll need to call Penny and alert her)
Ken Anger - also CIA and Aes-Nihil may be Ken Anger (I don't think I'll call Jon to alert him)

and the biggest - (to me)…. Patty Tate was really Sharon Tate. And that there is no real government record of Patty's birth or death.

There is MUCH more. Reminds me of a book review we once did...

This guy makes even the most oddball conspiracy theorists look sane!

New Light Shed on Long-Sealed Tex Watson Manson Tapes

Tom O'Neill on nbclosangeles.com

Leslie Van Houten's attorney says he will consider 

subpoenaing the tapes before her next parole hearing!

A year after obtaining audio recordings that had been out of reach for four decades, LAPD is keeping a tight lid on details of what exactly was said by Tex Watson, convicted killer and then member of the infamous Charles Manson murder cult.

"Whatever the new information on the tapes is, it must be persuasive..."

BREAKING NEWS ON THE TEX TAPES

Why doesn't Los Angeles law enforcement want to reveal what’s on the
45-year-old Tex Watson tapes — and why isn’t the press reporting it?

Read Tom O'Neill's Piece HERE