April 28, 2014
Great Groupies Of The Sixties Series
One of the more vexing problems of biographical writing is that of Time and the River. According to Einstein Time is the Fourth Dimension and the River according to all the most august novelists is the course of one’s life. Marcel Proust managed to get both constructs into his novel In Remembrance of Time Past but I want to consider them separately here.
Not to be cantankerous but as to Einstein’s designation of Time as another dimension I cry: au contraire. Einstein was not the firstto consider the nature of Time, nor, I hope, the last. In fact not the last as here I am. I have nothing new to add for in this day and age the table is already set. Before Einstein, quite some time before, the social construct of Time had been a topic of dinner talk. There is some evidence, for instance, that Einstein was influenced by the English novelist H.G. Wells. Wells himself was just discussing a topic that had been under consideration for a decade or two.
Back before Time began when life was just a continuum punctuated by obvious things like seasons man, in his primeval primitiveness, wasn’t overly concerned with the passage of Time, probably didn’t even think about it. Certainly not as it is now understood. But needing to know such things as the timing of bird and animal migrations our ancestors looked around for a convenient starting point to calculate those appearances. It was there, as it had been before this beginning of Time.
Nothing was more obvious than that there was a tremendous war waged annually (a foreign concept at the time) between Light and Darkness. These two items may be the beginning of man’s social construct of Time. For half the period the Prince of Darkness seemed to keep driving the Prince of Light back toward extinction as the days grew shorter; then miraculously when the days were shortest, nights longest and cold increasing, the Prince of Light drove the Prince of Darkness back. The Unconquerable Sun had won another round.
In Greek mythology this battle was portrayed as Castor, the savior, shooting an arrow toward the summer solstice while his twin who is portrayed as a boxer fought a tough battle backtracking across the ring until Castor came to his rescue with his bow and arrow.
Gradually it dawned on our ancestors that this two part battle was a year, hitherto unrecognized. Time of a rough sort came into existence. Having pinpointed the shortest day in the year and after having discovered counting to a hundred or more our ancestors could count from the Sun’s victory (December 21, by our reckoning) to the returning avian migrants and other beasts to prepare themselves for some fresh food.
Our Old Ones created some marvelous prognosticators like Stonehenge further developing the concept of Time. To make things easier they made rough divisions of the day defined by the place of the Unconquerable Sun in the sky. Running through inventions like sun dials and water clocks we eventually arrived at the stop watch and marvel of marvels- the Atomic clock.
By the end of mid-nineteenth century then the burning question was how to define Time. It had become complicated apparently. Was there an objective entity that is corporeal or was Time just an intellectual construct to manage our daily and annual affairs which we had reduced to hours, minutes and seconds, today glorying in the nanosecond.
Until the birth of Jesus there was no convenient way in which to track the progression of years. Than a forward count began in the year one, which is actually tens of thousands of years after the prototype came into existence, until now we have arrived at 2014. In terms of negative numbers we can date back three or four thousand years historically and guess the rest.
That is all subjective time so the question is does objective Time, a Time that actually affects things exist? Wiser heads than Einstein’s existing before he gave his opinion answered no. Objective time did not exist. Camille Flammarion, a man as brilliant as Einstein in every way writing after 1860 demonstrated conclusively enough that Time had no objective existence.
Well, it might be said, people live for upwards of seventy years, isn’t that Time? No, that is the River. Everything has a beginning, a middle and end, a trinity. In living organisms the progression from beginning to end is the result of chemical reactions unaffected by an external agency such as Time.
Thus as with wine one has fresh new wine, mature wine at its peak and old wine going sour ending as vinegar. The difference between the first stage and the last is a series of chemical reactions. One confuses the issue when one refers to mature wine as aged- time had nothing to do with it, the method was chemical reactions occurring in sequence under conditions varying from poor to optimum.
So it is with the person. Development begins with conception comes to birth then follows a series of chemical changes and depending on chance and conditions the organism lives for perhaps a hundred year or maybe more. By years as a counting device one means revolutions of the Earth around the Sun. No Time involved. In former times years might have been expressed by the more primitive term summers. One lived seventy summers. Apparently those people had no concept of the year. Year being the more scientific embracing all the seasons rather than just summer.
Everything has a beginning, middle and end. This applies to political movements, styles and what have you. Although abstract things don’t have chemical reactions nevertheless their lifetimes follow a predictable course. If you are knowledgeable you can determine where in its life cycle a style or movement is.
I if have explained myself correctly I will now apply these concepts of Time and the River to the life of Cherry Vanilla or Kathie Dorritie as she known by her mother.
Kathie at this time is approaching the so-called age of reason, or thirty summers. She has led a wasted youth. Old acquaintances are giving up on her as her unsavory reputation precludes their associating with her. More and more she is sliding deeper into the netherworld of the lost souls of the Bohemian Village.
As ten or twelve years of younger fresher women have entered the river of life Kathie’s sexual desirability is waning. Chemical changes are altering her appearance. Never one to despair but now flailing about desperately seeking some driftwood on the river to keep her afloat she is recommended to Andy Warhol for a role in the London production of his play Pork. The play is beyond obscene, suitable for only the most degenerate while the female lead is degrading to the extreme. Who but the most desperate would have accepted it?
As this is the seventies Andy had died and been born again. Shot in 1968 by Valerie Solanas Andy had actually died on the operating table for a minute or two but was resuscitated. While famous as an artist Andy too had a terrible reputation. His atelier, the Silver Factory, his first, was shut down late in ‘67 when his lease was pulled probably because of his atrocious antics at the psychiatrists’ convention in January of ‘66.
He had just moved into the second factory when Valerie plugged him. While the Silver Factory had not been financially lucrative by 1968 Andy had been fortunate to have attracted some competent business oriented associates. Paul Morrissey had reorganized the film production to make it more commercial and profitable. Fred Hughes had set Andy on a portrait painting career that salvaged him financially.
Skillful associates such as Vincent Fremont who managed the financial end while Bob Colacello along with Hughes kept Andy on course although as flighty as ever, perhaps moreso being mentally affected by his near death experience. Andy kept an entourage of, shall we say, eccentrics while having shed the Silver Factory crew. So, in the seventies, if not actually more respectable, he was less objectionable.
Less is a relative term naturally as anyone who would produce Pork was not concerned with actual respectability. But times had changed, the River was murkier than ever. A few years earlier Andy would have been arrested for obscenity but now, in the seventies after A Clockwork Orange had been cinematized anything went. Deep Throat would be mainstream fare within a year or two.
Kathy appeared before Andy for an audition and, probably because there were no other applicants, was accepted. The play had already opened and closed far off Broadway so next stop London for its English premier.
This was a major turning point in Kathie’s life. Biologically she was transiting from youth to early middle age. The time is one of immense chemical reactions in the body as the track to death really begins. Although one might not feel it the period of growth or construction for the body has ended. Food becomes a fuel to maintain electricity rather than creating thus fewer calories are needed to sustain life. If you don’t cut back on caloric intake fat begins to accrue. You have to work harder to stay in the same place.
For the first time, at that age you can no longer pretend you are one with youth. Younger people appear different to yourself. A desperation seizes you if you haven’t begun to attain whatever success means to you. The future begins to look very bleak. Thus Andy’s offer of a nowhere role in his totally objectionable play seemed like a lifeline. However despite Andy’s wonderful reputation in Bohemia he was seen as a clown to the rest of society. Amusing but not to be taken seriously. Up to 1968 no one had profited from being associated with Andy with the possible exception of Gerard Malanga, Andy’s assistant and artistic double from the Silver Factory. Andy brutally cut Gerard loose sending him to Italy without adequate funds to get lost and abandoning him refused to send a ticket home.
As Gerard was as familiar with Andy’s methods as Andy himself he took the risk of screening a photo of Che Guevara and passing the screen off as a Warhol. It was in a way because of Gerard’s experience. At the very least it was a genuine Warhol-Gerard. Naturally no one could tell the difference. Gerard was successful in selling a few but rather than taking the money and getting the hell out he hung around long enough to be discovered. Repudiated by Andy he spent some time in an Italian jail for fraud limping back home after release.
Andy was not one for doing anything for anybody and the role of Amanda Pork was not a role to do anything positive for Kathie’s image, she now being known as Vanilla.
Just as the organism develops and declines so every cultural movement has its beginning, middle and end. As a cultural expression of the Depression and war baby generations Rock and Roll began in 1954 when Elvis began his ascent and Johnny Cash had returned from his Army tour of duty in Germany. From that beginning the records had developed and then crested sometime between 1966 and 1969.
The generation was coming of age, ready to move on to the next stage of life.
Actually the generation had reached its peak during the during the late sixties. The early baby boomers of the silver age, the seventies were entering into prominence but not with the universal acceptance of the two earlier generations. The seventies for the war babies was a period of greatest hits records, a rehash of the sixties, although a couple groups like Led Zeppelin held on but only through their 60s records as golden hits, classics, sold that well.
Fleetwood Mac who had existed in several configurations through the sixties and early seventies acquired Lindsay-Nicks as their front line and in a spectacular blaze of glory put a period to the rock and roll expression of the war baby generation. In fact the post-war world ended in 1978 when the war babies came of age.
Vanilla arrived in London just as the Punk explosion of those born in the mid to late fifties was about to disrupt the transmission belt to stardom of the war babies. The war baby crowd still ruled London and Vanilla was a war baby. Based on Warhol’s reputation that was probably bigger in London than New York the cast of Pork was the toast of London that summer. Their rehearsals over, the play, such as it was, was revealed.
Unless you were a pervert, a dedicated one, there really wasn’t anything in the play for you and little if you were. After the Warhol crowd had come and gone the audience dwindled to nothing. The actors were out of luck no longer toasts of the Hard Rock Café.
To top it off Vanilla had been as disillusioned with Warhol as Gerard Malanga had been. Having sacrificed whatever reputation she had by appearing in Andy’s abomination, at the opening night party Andy hadn’t even deigned to congratulate her, ignoring her completely, not even acknowledging her presence.
I would imagine Vanilla was completely devastated, even more than she indicates. Her big chance, her salvation was come and gone. That was it. She was now adrift in Europe with no direction home. The cast was given the option of a plane ticket to New York or the cash. With nothing to return to New York for Vanilla took the cash abandoning London for Paris until her scant funds ran out then returning to London.
But, wait a minute, all had not been lost. During her summer of glory as the toast of hip London, among others of the Rock royalty, she had met the baby boomer David Bowie and his spectacular wife, the ex-pat American, Angela. Angela had been impressed by Vanilla and Bowie always a marginal performer, was about to get as close to the center as he ever would. That would entail invading the US, New York, LA, all that glitter. Vanilla became useful because if she knew anything, she knew New York.
Thus we move along to Chapter V- Hot Times In The Old Town.
April 20, 2014
The Sixties And The Negro Revolution
Terraplaning Through The Ozone
The question to be asked was and is how solvable is the Negro problem? The answer is, I’m afraid, that a solution is not on the horizon. There is no question that there is racial aversion on both sides. For whatever reason Whites prefer not to address the problem from a historical or biological basis or, in fact, any reasonable basis.
In point of fact historically the Negro kills or absorbs any alien people as through interbreeding the Negro type ultimately prevails. In Africa where the Bantus and Nilotics moved South from the Sahel where they originated they drove out or exterminated the Bushmen. The last of the Bushmen took refuge in the Kalihari desert where they survived for several hundred years. The Bantu have now rounded up the Bushmen removing them from the Kalihari where the Bantus say that they are ‘a burden on the land.’ In other words the Bushmen are being exterminated.
As the Bushmen were being driven South, about the year 1000 the Malagsy from Borneo were being transported to South Africa and Madagascar by their enemies from Bali. That was just as the Bantu Shona people were arriving from the North. The two people met in what is now called Zimbabwe. The Malagasy founded the kingdom known as Monomotapa that extended down into the current State of South Africa. It was they who built the structures of Zimbabwe.
Warfare raged for hundreds of years until in the nineteenth century just before the Aryans arrived the last of the mainland Malagasy were stamped flat, in Zulu terminology, exterminated to a man, genocide as the West would say and their settlements razed.
About the year 1500 Europeans began to arrive and populate the area. They eventually built great modern cities that were foreign to the Zulu and Shona peoples mindset, like Salisbury and Johannesburg. In the last few decades the Bantu and Shona in Zimbabwe were given the ‘State’ by the Western powers. Whites were then killed or driven from the country according to Bantu custom so that today there are no longer White Zimbabweans. Salisbury like the structure of Zimbabwe itself is an empty deteriorating shell.
Further South in the State of South Africa Whites were compelled by their ignorant brethren in Europe and the US to surrender their country to the Bantus. Those who have not yet fled the area are being slowly exterminated while the cities and other infrastructure are turning into ruins.
In the US that country is being surrendered to the Negroes by the Whites. Already Detroit is not only in ruins but square miles have returned to the wild. Other major cities which were deeded over to the Negroes at no charge such as Philadelphia, Memphis, Newark, Birmingham, Baltimore and a host of others are sinking into ruins with only essential services maintained by Aryan personnel and money.
Comically the watching youth of Japan recognizing the transfer of power from the Aryans to the Negroes are now beginning to imitate the Negroes rather than the Whites.
The Negroes are establishing themselves as an elite group supported by the Aryans, slaves in all but name. If you can’t see this then you willfully refuse to.
What then did Supreme Court justice Earl Warren and his fellow judges see? On what basis did they make the decision of Brown vs. The Board of Education of Topeka? Don’t give me the Constitutional stuff; that’s just an excuse a justification. The same Constitution that required Dred Scott returned to his owner was used twenty years later to require him to be set free. Not exactly clear cut wouldn’t you say?
The law is of no relevance in the Brown decision, it was a decision made on the prejudices of the justices. Separate but Equal had previously been justified by the Supreme Court and now based on the same Constitution the decision was reversed.
What prejudices, rather than law, then motivated the justices of the Supreme Court?
The Chief Justice, Earl Warren, a former governor of California was an extreme leftist Liberal much despised in California notwithstanding that he was elected by a majority of the people. Still, his appointment to the Court was done over strenuous objections. The prevailing social opinion at the time was still what is called The Melting Pot. The concept of Multi-culturalism and Diversity would officially replace it following the 1965 immigration bill. Thus it was believed that the lack of Negro achievement was caused by discrimination. It was thought as a cause that per capita spending on Aryan students was greater than that for Negroes so the difference in intellect was just a few dollars and for a few dollars more excellence could be purchased.
The idea was that if Negroes went to White schools where the Big Money was being spent then the per capita expenditure would make them A students. Not that for the same money all White students were made A achievers.
By that line of reasoning then Separate but Equal was a misnomer. Never mind that the per capita spending for Aryan students in the nineteenth century was well below that spent on Negroes in the twentieth. Logic did not enter in.
Nor was it taken into account that Negroes did no better in the integrated Aryan schools of the North and West than they did in the South which was the only place in the country that segregated schools were.
So the Warren Court that was after all composed solely of exceedingly well off lawyers with little or no anthropological or sociological training was deemed competent to judge the relative merits of the two species or races, if you will. The Courts judgment was based entirely on emotion and their particular interpretation of the Constitution at that particular moment in time. There can be no doubt that fifty years earlier that would have decided for Separate but Equal as, indeed, their counterparts of the time did.
The question then really was whose rights take precedence over the other. The Court’s decision that favored Negro rights while suppressing those of the Aryans was put into effect by military force. This was also done solely from the point of view of the then White government without considering the Negro point of view. They were just onlookers, no Negro was ever consulted, White Man’s law was just imposed and that law being Liberal law, that of a very small part of the White population.
As we will see, by 1966 in NYC Negroes were actually defying the Court decision demanding Separate but Equal under the rubric of Community Control. Nothing is as it seems.
The demographics of New York City have been undergoing a rapid transformation since 1946. About a million and a half Whites had moved out of the city who were replaced by a million and half or so of Negros and Puerto Ricans. At the same time to total population remained the same. Also at the same time industry was vacating NYC. All through the sixties and seventies major companies were fleeing the city while manufacturing had collapsed.
Thus one had this very strange phenomenon where huge swaths of the city were vacant buildings while the changing demographics created huge slums while changing the racial composition of Bronx and Brooklyn while buildings were stripped of plumbing and wiring and set on fire leaving burned out hulks that made the metropolis of the US look like Dresden after the carpet bombing and fire storm.
For a graphic representation check out the movie Midnight Cowboy in which the locations are actual NYC. It was because of the abandoned buildings adjacent to the Village that lofts, that is entire floors of these buildings, could be rented for as little as fifty dollars a month. In California I was paying 125.00 a month for four hundred square feet or less. How I could have lived it up with 3000 sq. ft. or more for 75.00 less.
Huge tracts of NYC had then changed hands from an educated sophisticated class of Whites to uneducated Southern and Caribbean Negroes and Puerto Ricans who were unfamiliar with any of the trappings of big city civilization. Race or color has little relevance at this level of sophistication as how quickly could raw humanity adapt to the bright lights and big city. I mean, you know, it wasn’t all that easy for White farm boys, hoosiers or by whatever name they were known, fit it. At this moment in time large numbers of hill people were coming down to NYC, Chicago, Detroit and places where they too were treated as human garbage while struggling to find a place for themselves, any place. My own people came down from the Kentucky hills via Bowling Green to Michigan where the local clowns thought they might be superior to us.
The Negroes had an actual advantage, such as it was, as Whites considered them uninhibited exotics, free living savages without White hangups. Indeed, the Sixties were to be a golden age of the Magic Negro. Superspade in San Francisco and who knows what other names they went by elsewhere. Young girls and not so young girls threw their bodies beneath them. Nigger Heaven as it were. Of course, as a Negro you had to be quick on the uptake to collect your booty.
And, perhaps not so quick. Norman Mailer and his ilk loved the idea of Negro men screwing White women, so did Hollywood. Mailer actually had roles in his amateur movie for Black male, White female couplings.
In the Seventies and Eighties when White Libertines brought young girls to Studio 54 they got the young girls addicted to heroin and then forced them to go to Harlem to buy it. The Sixties were and the following decades were nasty times.
Whites really expected miracles from Negroes who they believed lived lives untrammeled by civilization. Instinctual, completely free from Freud’s inhibitions. They represented the White unconscious hence White infatuation with them. E. Michael Jones in his Libido Dominandi quotes Hannah Tillich, the theologian’s wife, concerning her and his trips up to Harlem where they enjoyed going native. P. 431:
We felt relaxed at Small’s [in Harlem] and returned there with our friends, grateful voyeurs, taking in the primeval charm of the hearty men and swaying women. We considered it an authentic show. We did not think at all in economic, political, or social terms.
Once we dared to go to a show in a basement where there were mostly Negroes. In the dancing space at the center of the room occasional performances were given. A nude Negress, painted gold, having danced with a Negro twice her size, leaned her body against a post and masturbated with violent snake like movements, while her former partner and another girl unmistakably performed the act of intimate sex. It did not seem vulgar or fleshy. It was filled with the natural vivacity of these beautiful black people.
People at the seminary did not think our adventures such a good idea….
I should think not. Fucking in public was not vulgar when done by blacks. That was just natural vivacity to these holidaying voyeurs. Paul and Hannah would obviously consider a French peep show flick pornography but beautiful exotic Negro women masturbating and a beautiful black couple fucking in the middle of the dance floor was not vulgar or fleshy. That was ‘natural vivacity.’ Perspective it’s all perspective. When is it legal to free a slave and when is it legal to keep him? A difference of twenty years.
At the same time Whites considered Jack Benny’s Negro servant Rochester, or Fetchin Stepit or Uncle Remus other sides of the natural Negro. Harmless, happy go lucky primitives. Nobody asked the Negroes what they thought of this. But the happy go lucky Shine was about to tell them.
Thus, as the Negro Revolution was shaping up in Bull Conner’s Alabam’ the Jewish Folk Scene in NYC was taking notice. Soon these Jews would arrive in the South to begin agitating with the Negroes. Let my people go… They were about ready to drive the wedge through the log splitting the US into warring factions.
Thus everyone’s attention was diverted toward the South where Bull and his dogs and fire hoses ruled, Mississippi where the callow youth Bob Dylan was advised to leave the State for reasons of health. He hit the ground running.
The North has been overlooked. Home base for the Jewish so-called Freedom Riders was Greenwich Village and its grubby streets and rundown buildings. The Negroes may have had it better down in Dixie. Somebody once said NYC may have been a nice place to live but it was one hell of a place to visit. To that I can concur.
The Village had always been home to US homosexuals and the off scourings of the streets of Europe. From afar the Bohemian life was attractive, perhaps for the same reasons the ‘beautiful Negro’ was to the Tillichs but the closer you got the worse it looked. In the early sixties drugs were rampant mostly pot and amphetamines but the ever present cocaine had its place along with heroin while Technicolor LSD was making its move. The folk scene that was mostly Jewish was in full swing.
The traditionalist folk singers and groups were a stone bore. Who, and I mean, Who could listen to the New Lost City Ramblers? Huddie ‘Leadbelly’ Ledbettor was big, well, within a small group, but all the guy did was pillage Carl Sandburg’s American Song Book while his grunt was unintelligible. That boy cleaned up though.
Then into this fetid mix stepped Bob Dylan who said: I always knew folk music was a shuck, so he slipped out of political protest into personal protest music as Andy Warhol interpreted it and all of a sudden all those impoverished folkies were rolling in money. Some of them were halfway good, too. Not many people prefer to listen to the Holy Modal Rounders or the Fugs but I like them. The best of the lot, The Lovin’ Spoonful, were stone great. If any group epitomizes the Sixties for me it is John Sebastian and the Spoonful. Peter, Paul and Mary were, of course, a smash in a forties kind of way along with those twits Simon and Garfunkel.
So anyway, into this happening scene the newly arriving Negroes and Puerto Ricans injected themselves and in a violent way. Crime and destruction on every side. The Aryans were unprepared. Up to the Sixties the US had been a violent, gang infested place. I mean you had to be alert during the fifties to avoid a beating and I’m talking from Whites not Negroes. They were called kicks by some, a hospital stay for others. It was a cranky country.
Then during the Sixties the Love Generation came in for a while there as the Chambers Bros. sang of Love, Peace and Happiness. You actually didn’t have to watch your back for a while. Those tough old gangbangers didn’t know what to do with themselves. It was kind of fun watching them trying to fit into the LPH mode. You could see them wandering around mouthing ‘What the fuck?’
It was better on the West Coast but even NYC colored a little bit, not much though.
So, there were a lot of zoned out Hippies wandering the streets of the Village. For some reason during the Sixties every kid who was ever going to run away from home did it at the same time. There were tens of thousands of thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen year olds loose on the land like locusts. Most of them girls who didn’t appear to have a clue and would drop and spread at the drop of a joint, a tab of LSD. Ask Charlie Manson. Where would he have been without the Haight. Of course he did make his name in LA but he got the Family together in the Haight. Ah, those runaway girls.
Just as an example I’m going to relate he story of a double murder in the Village when a gang of Negroes took out a couple of zippy, dippy Hippies. This is a tragic Sixties story that represents the era.
Groovy And Linda, The Uptown Girl And The Downtown Boy
She’s been living in her white bread world
I bet she never had a back street guy
I bet her mama never told her why
I’m gonna try for an uptown girl
She’s been living in her white bred world
As long as anyone with hot blood can
And now she’s looking for a downtown man
That’s what I am
This was a sensational story in 1967 when it happened, even receiving some national exposure. Billed as trouble in hippieland it can be seen as premonition of the Manson affair in ’69.
Linda Fitzpatrick was a quintessential uptown girl. Her father, Irving Fitzpatrick, was a spice importer, tea- the regular kind of tea. His daughter Linda, definitely privileged, had turned eighteen, graduated from private schools and was expected to go to university but she didn’t want to. She wanted to be an artist. (Yawn) Wanting to be an artist leads to Greenwich Village.
The Fitzpatricks had a home overlooking Washington Square in Greenwich Village as well as a more palatial home in Greenwich, Connecticut. What drew her to the poverty and perversity of the East Side was a mental state peculiar to the Sixties. Perhaps she was made to feel guilty about her privilege that rich kid activists at Berkeley’s Free Speech Movement complained about or the battle at Columbia.
In rejection of their privilege that sort all wore torn levis and weird clothes dug out of the Goodwill bins. They put on Bohemian airs.
There is no surprise that Linda picked up some rags, and I mean rags, and started to patrol the streets of Greenwich Village also picking up the odd stray downtown man. One of the strays she picked up was a guy named James ‘Groovy’ Hutchinson. Or perhaps Groovy learning that she was the true uptown girl slumming it realized his dreams by zeroing in on her.
In the spirit of the times the only name he needed was Groovy. He in turn hung out with a guy who adopted the name of Galahad. It was a stretch perhaps but maybe a lot of the kids hadn’t heard of the real Galahad yet.
These two perps were quintessential downtown slags. The type you did your best to avoid whether they were man or woman. Groovy was an illiterate, which doesn’t plumb the bottom, but in the spirit of the times illiteracy was considered a wisdom unobtainable, accurately enough, from books. No, this was the real wisdom. It was believed there was wisdom in the weed; if you smoked enough you would acquire not only wisdom but knowledge. You would even be able to tell a nuclear physicist a thing or two about nuclear physics. Heck, Einstein’s brain would shrink to the size of a pea before yours. ‘Words mean what I say they mean.’ Know what I mean? How could you fail?
As Donovan says it was the season of the witch, the day of the geek. All these characters just came out of the woodwork like a dormant seed in the desert the day after a freak rainstorm. Truly it was their day. There were thousands of teenage runaways coursing through the streets of the Village. A pervert’s paradise. Galahad and Groovy were in seventh heaven.
They ran crashpads which is to say they rounded up underage girls and took them to their pad at night. A perfect setup. Then that summer of love, ’67, when Linda showed up on the streets with abundant money for drugs or whatever she was easy pickings. They sold her acid and speed at exorbitant prices, sometime it was baking soda, why waste good drugs? Why not make it all profit? Even though nineteen, not exactly the age of reason but old enough, Linda didn’t care. She came from privilege so she gave away the expensive drugs to the poor kids who didn’t have any. Groovy noticed this White Bread girl looking for a downtown man and like the song he said ‘That’s what I am.’ They hooked up. Hippie star and society chick. Galahad knew Linda too. She thought the two just wanted to help poor wayward runaways. Boy, there was a mantra of the time: I just want to help people. That line was a bona fide that would open many a door
Even an old hand about the Village like Ed Sanders of the Fugs fell for it. Either Ed was naïve or he’s covering for something. Ed’s autobiography Fug You is where I first heard of this story. Yeah, ‘Fug You’. That’s how Ed titled his life. The subtitle is: An Informal History of the Peace Eye Bookstore, the Fuck You Press, The Fugs, And Counterculture In The Lower East Side. That’s what they used to call it: The Counter Culture. It was worth bucks to write about. Just let me say that Ed knows what he’s talking about. He was a major player.
For those who may be unaware of who Ed was he was the founder of the recording group, The Fugs, definitely a product of the Lower East Side while being more or less confined to those of a Bohemian twist of mind. Ed was a Catholic boy evidently trying to free himself from Catholic sexual repression and doing a pretty damn good job of it too.
Ed’s Peace Eye book store was his answer to San Francisco’s City Lights Bookstore run by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. His Fuck You Press published his own and the poetry of Bohemian poets such as Allen Ginsberg and a whole host of people you’ve never heard of. Poetry, so-called, was an essential means of expression for the Beats and their epigone. You can actually call up a You Tube video of Ed performing at a poetry reading that is pretty interesting. Gives you a little flavor of the times. If you really work at it on the web you can almost reconstruct the era. As a starter I recommend the site Ephemeral New York if you’re not familiar with that. Be sure to read the comments, it appears that all the commenters were there.
Ed ran a pretty loose ship at a time when loose ships were de rigeur. In 1967 Ed and his Fugs (originally accurately called the the Village Fugs) were at the crest of their success. They ran a cabaret show for a couple or three years that was very successful making them the toast of the Village if not the town or at least it’s more Libertine portion at least.
Ed ran out of time to run his book store so he turned it over to Groovy who he thought was ‘helping’ a lot of runaways with his crash pad. Groovy had no ideas what books were for being an illiterate so he chucked them and drew groovy pictures on the walls. Unless you were attuned to this sort of thing and thought it normal these were horror stories. I mean I was in the middle of this stuff trying to keep the horror at bay while trying to live in if not a white bread world at least one of cracked wheat.
Did I mention Groovy was illiterate? Imagine turning a book store over to an illiterate. Books. Oh, oh I’ve already said this. Well, it was just too astonishing for words.
Selling drugs made more sense to Groovy and those runaway young girls!
Anyway, Ed thought Linda and Groovy were prototypical Hippie lovers. He was rather astonished when he heard that bricks had been used to pulverize their heads in a dirty boiler room basement. It was worse even than that.
Linda had been reared in a proper environment. Yet, for some reason she had a cognitive disconnect, and she is representative. A switch went off in her brain and she had begun this dual life. Her parents had no idea or, so they said. Quite possibly her other life would have been impossible for them to imagine. She had taken a room in a transient hotel where she was living an abandoned sexual life. She told her parents she was rooming with a friend named Paula when it was a transient named Paul- and his friend.
Apparently the room was used as a crash pad or for orgies, same thing, because she had checked out first before her murder. When the manager went up to check the room he found it full of men and women doing drugs and sex.
On this particular night on the corner she boasted to an acquaintance that she was high on 1 ½ grains of amphetamines that she had paid the enormous sum of 10.00 for. She and Groovy continued down the street where they were accosted by four Negroes who either lured or hustled them into the boiler room.
Linda was screwed at least four times, once each, then she and Groovy had their heads smashed flat with bricks.
Possibly in 1963-64 it would have been safe to buzz around streets high on this or that. But, this was 1967, the age of innocence had passed. The character of the Village had been changing rapidly for a decade. The demographic mix had changed in the Village as it had in the city. Whites had vanished to be replaced by Negroes and Puerto Ricans. And these were angry Negroes with attitudes changed by the Civil Rights Movement. They were filled with hatred for the Whites. Nineteen sixty-seven was the Summer of Love for the White breads but the Long Hot Summer for the Negroes. Sixty-seven was the year they burned the US down. So imagine Detroit and New Jersey in flames as these four Negroes watched Linda and Groovy coming down the street. Philly in ’63 was the first great Negro insurrection I have heard of followed by NYC in ’64, Ocean Hill Brownsville in ’66 and ’67, LA in ’65 and a plague of insurrection in ’67 and ’68.
In the aftermath Detroit would disappear, square miles of smoldering ruins and the Renaissance Center with the sculpture of Joe Louis’ fist all that remained. In terms of square miles in total in that destruction of the infra-structure of the US it was probably more than half of any in the United Nations.
Did we care? Hell, no. I wasn’t even aware of the extent of the damage and I was a grad student at UOregon. I never even heard anyone mention it. It simply was not a topic of discussion and if it had been everyone but me would have been cheering for the Negroes.
In NYC the temperature had been rising since Suze and Bob strolled down Fourth St. Suze had introduced Bob to the plays and poetry of the very angry Leroy Jones, one of those ‘by any means’ Negroes who was advocating the murder of White America. The Negro boys took him up on it is ’67.
In 1966 began the Ocean Hill- Brownsville school riots. It seems as the Negroes had not been consulted on the Separate but Equal issue they were now making their wishes known. They wanted Separate but Equal schools and they didn’t want White teachers misinforming their kids. Separate but Equal needed a new name so they called it Community Control. Of course the NYC schools were in the hands of the Jews and the teachers in OH-B were Jewish teachers. The Negroes threw up barricades to keep the Jewish teachers out threatening them with grievous bodily harm. The Negro Revolution was in full swing.
One can almost hear Linda and Groovy pleading, ‘Oh, no, man. We think Black people are beautiful.’ Yeah? Well, smash.
Naturally the cops started looking for White guys while everyone prayed that the murderers would be White. They were disappointed.
As it turned out it was said that the killers were devotees of some Negro religious sect and these were ritual killings. That excuses it of course but the sect they were talking about was the Santeria religion. (Pronounced Santa-ree-a.) Santeria is a variant of the Yoruba people’s religion of Central Nigeria. Haitian Voodoo and Brazilian sects have the same origin. Santeria was endemic on the East Coast and it has multiplied since.
As far as Ed, the admirer of the Hippie lovers, went, he eulogized them but decided to move from the East Village to the all White and much more pleasant Woodstock upstate. Don’t blame him, the Village would have been too worrisome for me. Even Andy Warhol took a bullet in ’68. A very volatile situation there among the downtown boys of the Village. Nothing compared to today but then we’re more liberated now.
In Freudian terms- where Ego was the Id now is.
The Sixties And The Negro Revolution
Terraplaning Through The Ozone
Always keep in mind 1954’s Supreme Court decision of Brown vs. The Board Of Education of Topeka as the basis of our interpretation of the Negro revolution. There are other things to consider. In that era before the internet, indeed, even as television networks were only developing, magazines were a key element in forming public opinion. Liberalism, even Communism, was the lens through which events were viewed. This was usually disguised as tongue in cheek conservative criticism.
The most important purveyors of this sort of public opinion were Time, Newsweek and Life. The first and last formed the Time-Life group of magazines all of which were very influential while disguising their Liberal bias very well. Life was the first to bite the dust probably being replaced by T-L’s People Magazine that more or less covered the same ground in a more contemporary fashion. Far back but vying with these was the William F. Buckley fronted National Review. Buckley was the most pernicious of all posing as the consummate Conservative while guarding the Liberal agenda from Conservative inroads.
These were New York based magazines so that it is not surprising perhaps that they were staffed mainly by Jews, including the National Review, hence Left Wing although disguised as right wing or objective, and heavily pro-Israel, Negro and definitely Jewish. It might seem odd that all pushed a Jewish agenda but then as New York City was 25% Jewish let’s just say they had a foot in the door.
Until Time-Life was absorbed by the Jews in the TL-Warner Bros. merger the Luces, Henry and Claire Booth who founded the empire ran a fairly useful organization. I read Time religiously and believed in the veracity of the magazine until I learned in their account of Howard Hughes departure from Las Vegas that they fabricated the story completely. Pure fiction and that this was done routinely.
Nevertheless as publishers of outstanding illustrated history books in extended series and phonograph record collections of very high quality they did their best to educate Americans of their past.
I finally chucked Time Life in after buying their mail order library, The Time-Life Reading Program. This was a series of 108 titles sent four volumes bi-monthly. They became progressively Red oriented, that is propagandistic. I read the first eighty or so titles then stopped although I have the full set of 108 less the replacement title of one volume.
As they were located in New York City they were enablers of the various revolutions giving national prominence to what were local situations. Andy Warhol would have remained a relative unknown except for Time while a relative nobody like Edie Sedgwick went nationwide with Life’s picture essay of her. Even Ed Sanders of the Fugs made the cover of Life as T-L constantly hyped the Greenwich Village Bohemian culture, enabling that culture to conquer America.
Newsweek was a Time wannabe that didn’t have what it took. One picked it up when Time wasn’t around which was rarely. Newsweek has gone defunct while pursuing a far left Jewish agenda. The signs are that Time sabotaged by the Jews through their merger will probably soon follow under Jewish editorship.
As commentary magazines there were Harpers, Atlantic, The Reporter and a host of others but they were minor in distribution compared to the giants Time, Life and Newsweek.
Time is of the essence of the period.
Movies and TV
Just as one’s dreams form a parallel reality alongside one’s waking life so movies and TV play a key role in the formation of one’s public life somewhere between dreams and waking reality. Contrary to claims made by the industry movies were not about entertainment but were purely propaganda disguised as entertainment. No serious history or study of movies exists to my knowledge although specific movies are being injected into articles as alternate reality. While movies may not be actually real they nevertheless create real memories and very influential memories that do affect your actions. And memory is the basis of consciousness. The memories are so powerful that one may adjust one’s personality to reflect what is on the screen. Thus when M.A.S.H. was on TV any number of Hawkeyes stalked the land assuming that persona. The Hawkeyes then cast the people around them in the various roles behaving as if those roles were real in fact. What a curse that was.
There was a changing of the guard that occurred in 1962. Within a few days of each other two movies were released the one being The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and the other Ian Fleming’ Dr. No. The former was the swan song of the old American mores while the latter established the new Freudian/Reichian pornographic image of the New America.
Liberty Valance featured the two aging stars of the thirties and forties John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart while being directed by the old warhorse, John Ford. Dr. No introduced Wayne’s successor Sean Connery. It was like Zeus replacing Cronus in the Age change from Taurus to Aries.
The two female leads also heralded the change. Vera Miles as the beautiful Hallie Stoddard Aryan model of Chivalry of virgin sensibilities exited stage right while like Aphrodite of old the new model woman Ursula Andress rose nearly nude from the sea as the pornographer’s delight. Indeed, soon an area legal for pornography would be created within a twenty mile radius of the Hollywood studios ensuring that pornography would triumph in America’s theatres.
Thus violence was personated in the form of James Bond (Sean Connery) and pornography in various forms of Bond heroines who might all have been named Pussy Galore were united. The future was cast. Out with the chaste and demure Vera Miles and in with the lusty, busty, big-assed Bond heroines chasing the Big Dick. I knew something had happened but I was left scratching my head.
Nineteen sixty-two also produced the morally relativist masterpiece Mondo Cane. The movie had tremendous impact as it demonstrated that nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so. Sixty years later its images flash through my mind
Thus the Jews through Freudian/Reichian psychoanalysis triumphed over and displaced Aryan European Chivalric mores.
Now, Freud and Reich were motivated by Freud’s total misunderstanding of the Unconscious. Freud looked inside himself and extrapolated his malaise as the normal for mankind irrespective of race or religion. If Freud was the Jesus of psychoanalysis then his disciple Wilhelm Reich was its St. Paul. While Freud was rejected by Aryans Reich was able to translate sex and violence into something palatable for them.
While most people know Freud, at least by name, many fewer have heard of Wilhelm Reich. Reich was a disciple of Freud. While Freud dressed his discovery of the psycho-analytic method in a lot of mumbo-jumbo he essentially deified his own subconscious desires for sex and violence and passed them off as universal. He didn’t take those desires to their logical conclusion however while Reich did. Reich’s vision was pure sado-masochistic sex and violence and by sex I mean merely fucking.
While this had been what Freud meant, when Reich held up his mirror for Freud to see Freud was revolted by himself and cast Reich from his organization. At that time his group was all Jewish as it was realized that psycho-analysis was a Jewish affair.
Reich continued on and wed Communist violence to his psycho-sexual political creation. Where he would have gone from there having been discredited by the psycho-analysts isn’t clear but that scourge who destroyed America without lifting a finger, Adolf Hitler, came to power in Germany. The German States were the center of the psycho-sexual scum.
As Hitler was antagonistic to Jews in general, when he came to power in 1933 all this intellectual treyfe with the exception of Freud, and he was to plague England, fled to the United States settling in its two culture forming centers, New York City and Los Angeles. Reich, the King of Scurf, was one of these figures. Hitler’s revenge on the United States. He remained on the East Coast peddling his sex and violence.
If Freud had rejected Reich US authorities followed suit in spades. They were so repelled by Reichian theories that, this is truly remarkable, they not only arrested him as a criminal lunatic throwing him into prison but actually collected his books and burned them. This was in anything goes America too.
The only thing other than Reich that the US was intolerant of was Jewish comic books that were also banned. The Jewish Horror comics such as William Gaines Tales From The Crypt were sado-masochistic, violent and pornographic while possible inspired by Reich’s approach to psycho-analysis.
I was an avid reader from eight to twelve of all the Gaines comics which I considered outre and even as I read them thought to myself that they shouldn’t allow them for little kids like myself. But, I read them eagerly. Still I didn’t know that what I was reading was sado-pornographic stuff. Didn’t know either term at the time. Apparently our parents did. These were vivid, vivid stories. Great pictures. Many of the images linger on. Perhaps I was revolted because I have always rejected pornography as a mental malaise. Not that that does me or anyone else any good because every Hollywood movie has a pornographic base while many for general distribution are worse than anything Gaines published. His line was named, humorously I hope, EC- Educational Comics. Believe it or not.
At any rate not all Reich’s books were burned as they were revived in the Sixties forming the basis of Bohemian sex and politics notions. So a new synthesis began to form, began to jell in the Sixties. The adoption of a new set of mores. It was realized that movies were an unrivalled propagandistic tool.
Dusan Makajevic, a Yugoslavian film maker made a perfect visualization of Freudian/Reichian sexual politics in his movie of 1971: WR: Mysteries Of The Organism. The modern world in a nut shell, no pun intended I don’t recommend it as without proper education its sexual presentation will certainly be misunderstood as pure pornography. Of course it is, but only as a visualization of the Freudian/Reichian unconscious and its consequences. E. Michael Jones gives an extended literary version in his Libido Dominandi that I do recommend. Perhaps read it first.
So, now, we have the perfect propagandistic tool that functions through both the conscious and unconscious minds in hands of Jews indoctrinated in Freudian/Reichian psychology. After WWII and the discovery of Hitler’s death camps the Jews became absolutely hysterical. Even though American Jews had never been in any danger, not even remotely, they now saw White Americans as potential if not actual Fascists intent on destroying them. This was serious.
William Paley of CBS, himself a Jew, believed American death camps were so imminent that he capitalized the careers of prominent Jewish performers- actors, comedians and such- and sold shares in their future incomes to gentiles. By this ploy he believed that when the round up came these few Jews would be spared for economic reasons. This is serious, indeed.
In any event the path to survival in their mental state was to divide and discombobulate. The Negro as a tool was at hand. While the Judaeo-Communists of the twenties and thirties had always used the Negro to sow discord and confusion, in the post-war US their effort was stepped up. The movies were the perfect vehicle to divide and control America. Hence we had all those horrid Sidney Poitier movies shaming Whites and glorifying Negroes. By 1960 this was nearly in full spate. Miscegenation was a popular device so there were numerous Negro male/White female pairings. Remember the movies are a third reality somewhere between waking and dreaming providing both conscious and unconscious very real memories from faked reality. What was seen wasn’t true but was accepted as such by suggestion. This is serious business while presented as entertainment, it was actually behavior changing propaganda. New mores for the masses.
The dialogue, then, was controlled and directed through films, the third reality.
And then there was Brown vs the BOE. The greatest divisive decision ever made and taken full advantage of by the Jews. Here was a way to protect themselves from a nation, they thought, of Hitlers thirsting for Jewish blood. After the great preliminary battles of the Fifties came the Sixties and the wedge that split the nation- the Civil Rights Battle.