Great Groupies Of The Sixties Series

A Review

Part IV

Lick Me

by

Cherry Vanilla

 by

R.E. Prindle

Kathie Dorritie-Cherry Vanilla

Kathie Dorritie-Cherry Vanilla

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.

 

Edie Sedgwick: Maid Of Constant Sorrow

by

R.E. Prindle

Chapter 15

We are now at the beginning of June 1966.  Life was careening very fast for Edie, Andy and Bob.  Oddly enough all three were headed for life threatening experiences.  The first to take a hit was Dylan.  He had his famous spill from his motorcycle in July of that summer.  His back wheel locked up sending him flying over the handlebars.  It has never been made clear how badly he was hurt or if he was even hurt at all but he was observed in a neck brace so a report that he had a cracked vertebra in his neck may be accurate.  He may have come within an ace then of being paralyzed from the neck down or killed.

It seems to me unlikely that the rear wheel accidentally locked up.  As Dylan was one whose conduct from, say, ‘63 to ‘66  should have made him a lot of enemies it seems likely that someone was seeking revenge.  There are strong indications if not evidence that Andy Warhol was the most likely candidate.

Andy was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve but my thinking after reading extensively and thinking deeply is that in his own way Andy was deeply in love with Edie.  Given his homosexuality there was apparently no way for him to express his feelings to her.  Edie on her part remarked to Dylan that she had really tried to get close to Andy.  While Andy strove to appear indifferent he expressed his resentment at David Weisman and his movie Ciao Manhattan that exploited Edie’s fame while destroying whatever was left of her reputation.

At the same time too he resented Dylan for purloining Edie and then discarding her.  Andy was controlled by the notion that there was no stopping a person from following their bent or as he put it:  How do you stop someone from doing what they want to do.  Indeed, all one can do is step out of the way and let them do it.  Thus, while the attitude is callous he was heard to remark that if Edie was going to commit suicide he hoped that she let him film it.  The logic is not unreasonable but the attitude comes across cold.

Bob Dylan

As Edie seemed intent on going with Dylan Andy felt that there was no way to stop her.  It never occurred to him that he himself was exploiting her by using her in his movies.  As he saw it he was creating avenues to success for his people and it was up to them to create their own opportunities from that fame.  Not too much different than he was doing for himself.  It apparently never occurred to him that none of his people had the talent to do anything on their own although some did try.

He does not seem to have been aware that what was fame for him was mere notoriety for them.  He had merely created a clubhouse for drugged out buffoons.  Thus when things began to fall apart in mid-’66 when the mise en scene began to be broken up by Andy’s trip to Hollywood his entourage was merely dispersed with no direction home.

The case with Ondine was as pathetic as that with Edie.  With the accession of Paul Morrissey and Fred Hughes who encouraged Andy to drop the whole A-head and Silver Factory crowd which they correctly saw as a liability the Silver Factory’s days were numbered.  This was made easier by the end of ‘67 when Warhol was advised that his lease would not be renewed.  Everyone was told there would be no place for them at the new quarters.  The Factory building was subsequently torn down in 1969 to make room for the Dag Hammerskjold project.

For Ondine who was completely burned out by the amphetamines this was disastrous.  He ended up at the post office for a while then tried to capitalize on his notoriety by stealing a film in which he starred from Andy trying to make money by exhibiting it while lecturing on his Factory days.  He was apparently pathetic while Andy turned his back on him without a thought.

Gerard Malanga

The same was true of Gerard Malanga who was dumped in 1967.  Andy’s treatment of this most competent and valuable assistant is a real blot on his record.  Malanga was a man of some talent and ability.  I don’t think much of poetry but Malanga has a position in the NYC poetry scene.  He introduced Andy into a milieu beneficial to him that he would not have known otherwise.

At a time when Andy was turning his art in the direction of multiple copies, essentially posters, Malanga who was knowledgeable  in silk screening taught Andy the process.  I am of the opinion that Gerard was essentially a collaborator in Warhol’s art.  He assisted in the screening contributing skill and know how while undoubtedly making good suggestions.  Of course he followed Andy’s lead.  All this time he was paid only the minimum wage so, in a sense, he sacrificed a half dozen of his most valuable  years for little recompense and as it turned out nothing in the way of thanks.  In 1967 he went to Italy in an attempt to further his fortunes.  While there he ran out of money having no way to pay his fare home.  Andy refused his pleas for help, so Gerard who was completely familiar with Andy’s process of selecting photographs, such as the Presleys, selected a photo of Che Guevara and screened a few copies representing them as genuine Warhols.  From my point of view they were authentic Warhols produced without the Master’s hand but still, perhaps, genuine.

When art authorities checked with Warhol, Andy dropped the ball.  He should have confirmed them as no one could tell the difference and rescued Gerard.  Instead he made Gerard guilty of art fraud which gave Gerard some very trying moments with the Italian authorities.  Gerard made it back to New York but now having served as Warhol’s apprentice during his twenties, at thirty he had no marketable skills while being essentially a convicted criminal.    Having no other recourse and some rights in my estimation,  he expropriated, as the Leftist criminals used to say, some of Andy’s multiples and sold them.  In a way in Andy’s mind this acknowledged  his primacy and he didn’t press charges but he did disavow authentic prints as genuine.

We now move to ‘68, Andy under the influence of Morrissey and Hughes while forced to change quarters as his former space was condemned, disavowed the whole former Factory crowd telling them to get lost, that they were no longer welcome at the new Factory.

You can’t do this without making a large number of enemies.  Andy just before his shooting was not so popular a fellow.  And we are not quite there yet.

Edie going into the last half of ‘66 and into ‘67 was in dire straits.  She was now completely unable to function without amphetamines.  Cut off from all sources of income she was forced into thievery to support her habit.  She was caught and did time.  She was to spend more time at public mental hospitals that were quite unlike the posh Silver Hill of Connecticut.  One can only guess the effect this disastrous series of events, a series with no seeming end,  had on her psychology.  Or perhaps we can get a glimmer from the biker group she hung out when she returned to Santa Barbara after the stunning humiliation of Ciao Manhattan.  There she became a biker chick offering herself to all comers for a dose of drugs.  Certainly her self-respect had been obliterated.  Certainly she no longer thought she had any value as a human being.  The mind can only be battered so much before it gives way.  The men in her life had treated her shamefully, her father, Fuzzy, Warhol and Dylan as well as her evil mentor, Chuck Wein.

If, as claimed in the movie Factory Girl, her father had sexual relations with her as a young girl then his obligations extended much further than a paltry allowance that he cut off .  Then he is morally liable for her degradation.  If as Warhol thought there was no way to stop someone from doing what they want to do, then he was under no obligation to provide the ways and means.  In all probability in the environment of NYC of the early and mid-sixties Edie would have drifted into amphetamines anyway.  Indeed, as Andy said, Edie was a regular patron of the feel good doctor, Roberts.

Roberts was a licensed physician as was that other chief Dr. Feelgood, Max Jacobson.  Doesn’t society have to obligation to protect its citizens from charlatans and quacks?  Didn’t they throw some poor innocent Jim Bakker in jail because they disliked his religion?  Didn’t society pursue hapless marijuana smokers and criminalize them by the thousands?  Can the doctors actually claim they didn’t know the deleterious effects of amphetamines when they had the example of the most notorious amphetamine user ever, Adolf Hitler, before them?

Even if they tried they were still were medical malpractitioners and criminally liable.  Read this quote from Edie by Jean Stein for an account of these doctors’ methods and practices.  This is absolutely terrifying.  There is a problem with Stein and Plimpton however.  Apparently there was no Dr. Charles Roberts; Roberts is a name substituted by Stein to ‘protect’ the real doctor, who in any event would likely have been discredited c. 1968 when the Dr. Feelgoods were finally discountenanced.  Also there may be confusion with the Dr. Robert, without an ‘s’ of the Beatles’ song.  He was apparently Dr. Robert Feynman, a sixty year old man who was discredited in 1968.  In any event since Stein and Plimpton didn’t announce the name change their whole history of Edie is compromised more than somewhat.  Who knows what edits the two authors made.   To quote the account, p.261, Edie:

Joel Schmacher reporting:

Joel Schumacher

I’ll give a description of what it was like to go to Dr. Roberts.  The time is two-thirty in the afternoon.  I’m going back for my second shot of the day.  I open the door.  There are twenty-five people in the waiting room; businessmen, beautiful teenagers on the floor with long hair playing guitars, pregnant women with babies in their arms, designers, actors, models, record people, freaks, non-freaks…waiting.  Everyone is waiting for a shot, so the tension in the office is beyond belief.

Lucky you, being a special Dr. Roberts person who can whip right in without waiting.  Naturally there’s a terrible resentful, tense moment as you rush by because you’re going to get your shot.

You attack one of the nurses.  By that I mean you grab her and say, “Listen, Susan!  Give me a shot!”  You’re in the corridor with your pants half off, ready to get the shot in your rear.  Meanwhile Dr. Roberts comes floating by.  Dr. Roberts has had a few shots already, right?  So in the middle of this corridor he decides to tell you his complete plan to rejuvenate the entire earth.  It’s a thirteen part plan, but he has lots of time to tell it to you, and as the shots start to work-Susan having given it to you- you have lots of time to listen.

In Dr. Roberts’s room would be Edie…so thin that she cannot be given her shots standing up; she has to lie down on her stomach.  It was a big shot- all those vitamins, niacin, methedrine. God knows what else- for a little girl she has  to take it lying down.

Meanwhile everyone who’s back in the corridor for the second or third time that day complains that the shots they received that morning haven’t worked.  Out in the waiting room you can hear the people complaining that they haven’t even received their first shot yet.

And Dr. Roberts is still going on.  In the middle of his thirteen-part plan he decides to tell you about a movie he saw on television…in detail.  You however, are telling him your ideas for whatever you are going to do.  But then Dr. Roberts begins to describe his idea for a plastic Kabuki house.  Someone else is showing his sketches for redesigning the Boeing 707 with a psychedelic interior.  Big doings at Dr. Roberts all the time.

Now you decide to go back out through the waiting room, right?  Now you have all the time in the world.  Life is a breeze.  You’ve used the sun lamp, I mean, you were in a great rush when you came in; now, finally, you decide you’ll leave.

But there in the room are all these people who are not Dr. Roberts special people and who still haven’t been served.  They’re there to spend as much money as you have, but they’re not part of the “in” crowd.  So they’re drifting off into craziness because they haven’t gotten their shots.  A couple of people are wandering around…their poor systems are so riddled with the methedrine they got half an hour ago they feel is not working that they’ve come back for what Dr. Roberts call “the booster.”  The basic Dr. Roberts shot goes for from ten dollars to fifteen dollars.  As your resistance to the drug gets to the point of diminishing returns, you move on up.  There is a big shot for twenty-five dollars, and if it doesn’t work you go right back and get the “the booster’ for five dollars.  That’s what some of these poor people are doing- standing out there waiting for the booster.  But  you …you are flying high, having just had your twenty-five dollar special, and you walk out ino the outer office and say:  “Hi, Oh, hi! What a beautiful sweater!  Gee you look wonderful!  How are you?  Oh, hi!  Isn’t it wonderful to see you!  What’s happening?”

Before leaving, I’d often go and find Edie in Dr. Roberts’ sauna.  If we’d been up all night on drugs, the sauna and steam-bath were wonderful things.  We’d go and walk for blocks and blocks…just be together, because we didn’t know what we were saying half the time.

The speed thing was so wonderful because everyone was walking around scared to death…scared because they couldn’t sustain the pace.  And so these shots from Dr. Roberts and all those other speed doctors gave you a false sense of being together.  You cold face everybody when you went out at night.  You could dance all night.  It was like “the answer.”  Nobody knew much about speed in those days.

Once Edie’s mother came to Dr. Roberts!  I remember she was on crutches.  She looked like Betty Crocker-gray hair with a little hairnet, a blue print dress, and little glasses.  She looked like a librarian from the Mid-west standing next to Edie with her cut-off blond hair with the dark roots, thigh-high boots, and mini-skirt, and a kind of chubby fur jacket that looked like it was made out of old cocker spaniels.  There they were- the two of them.  Mrs. Sedgwick had come to see if Dr. Roberts was taking good care of her little girl…and I guess the parents paid for her treatment.  It cost a lot for those shots.

I’m not sure I trust Joel’s memories but that is sure good speed freak talk.  Love it.  And then there’s this from Cherry Vanilla, p. 265:

I became like an acid queen.  I loved it.  My looks got crazier and crazier.  I started getting into things like pink wigs, teasing them up to make them real big and like bubbles.  I’d wear goggle glasses and real crazy make-up: spidery lashes and white lips, and micro-minis.  I saw a micro-mini on Edie and immediately started cutting everything off.  Kenneth Jay Lane earrings.  Big Robert Indiana LOVE earrings, giant love paintings on my ears.  Little bikini undies, a band around the top; and we made these silver dresses that were just silver strings hanging on us.  I was surrounded by a lot of gay boys in designing and decorating who would always give me a hand in pulling some look together.  I would go out half-naked with see through things.  You took a scarf and wrapped it around  you and thought you were dressed.

I gave Dr. Roberts a shot once.  In the ass, in his office about five o’ clock in the morning.  I had been playing records at Aux Puce- I was the disc jockey there- and he had come around to visit and said, “If you come back to my office with me, I’ll give you a shot.”  It was a freebie, which was nice because those shots were not cheap.

I really got into having a needle in my ass.  Just the feeling of it.  You get the shot, then this taste in your mouth, and you get a rush and you knew you were getting high.  It was all very sexual in a way, and very “in” and social and stylish to do it.  So I went back to his office with him and I gave him one and he gave me one.

I don’t know what he shot me up with, but it was something I had certainly never had before.  I was really very numbed.  Maybe it was cocaine.  Sometimes he would shoot you with LSD.  You never knew what he was going to shoot you with.  So we got involved in a rather heavy sex encounter.

All of a sudden there was blood everywhere.  I was bleeding like crazy.  He laughed and said, “Oh, I think you should go and see a doctor.”  Very bizarre.  I started freaking out.  I thought, “Oh, my God, this man has done something to me..  He’s killed me.  I’m going to die here in his office, all shot up with drugs, and it’s going to be a disgrace and terrible.”  I told him I had to get out.  He said, “No, no, you can’t leave.  I’ll fix you.  I’ll give you a shot.”  I said, “No, no, no more shots!”  I got dressed.  I never thought he was going to let me out.  Perhaps he was scared I would go to the police.

When I did get out, I ran around the corner to Aux Puces.  Some of the staff used to hang out there very late at night taking LSD.  Sure enough, they were there.  We called doctors.  We couldn’t get anybody.  Then the bleeding began to subside suddenly- about seven in the morning.  I never actually knew what happened.  I had been cut inside- scratched with something, fingernails or jewelry…probably by accident.  I think we both just got carried away.

Exciting times.  And finally we have this from Edie.  This is a transcript from Ciao Manhattan.

It’s hard to choose between the climactic ecstasies of speed and cocaine.  They’re similar.  Oh, they are so fabulous.  That fabulous sexual exhilaration.  Which is better, coke or speed?”  It’s hard to choose.  The purest speed, the purest coke, and sex is a deadlock.

Speeding and booze.  That gets funny.  You get chattering at about fifty miles an hour over the downdraft, and booze kind of cools it.  It can get very funny.  Utterly ridiculous.  It’s a good combination for a party.  Not for an orgy, though.

Speedball!  Speed and heroin.  That was the first time I had a shot in each arm.  Closed my eyes.  Opened my arms.  Closed my fists, and jab, jab.  A shot of cocaine and speed, and a shot of heroin.  Stripped off all my clothes, leapt downstairs, and ran out on Park Avenue and two blocks down it before my friends caught me.  Naked. Naked as a lima bean.  A speedball is from another world.  It’s a little bit dangerous.  Pure coke, pure speed, and pure sex.  Wow!  The ultimate in climax.  Once I went over to Dr. Roberts for a shot of cocaine.  It was very strange because he wouldn’t tell me what it was, and I was playing it cool.  It was my first intravenous shot, and I said, “Well, I don’t feel it.”  And he gave me another one, and all of a sudden I went blind.  I just flipped out of my skull!  I ended up wildly balling him and flipping him out of his skull.  He was probably shot up…he was always shooting up around the corner anyway.

It would appear that Edie was very familiar with drugs and very welcoming to them.  The quote doesn’t tell us whether Edie was first introduced to amphetamines at the Factory and then found Dr. Roberts or vice-versa but we do have an environment at the factory in which Brigit Berlin walked around injecting people with or without their consent.  The question then is how innocent is Andy really.  What sort of milieu had he created for his amusement.

The Factory was a clubhouse for what were essentially lowlife homosexual drug addicts.  This must have been the overriding first impression.  As such the women had to be accessories to attract men and outsiders.    They were there essentially to be abused.  They put the Factory in bad odor.  As Andy says the police were through the Factory so often it might as well have been the precinct house.  Warhol himself was generally known as ‘that creep’ while the more respectable people thought the place poison.

Andy’s genius however did turn it into an ‘in’ place by 1966 where certain celebrities with cachet found the place exciting and for a short period gave it a certain status.

As I have pointed out Warhol was a leader in both the Homosexual Revolution and the Underman Revolution.  By late 1966, early 1967 we are not too far from the Stonewall Riot of  ‘69 that ended restriction and harassment of homosexuals in NYC and the rest of the country.  It was the end of rock n’ roll.  After  Stonewall the period began that homosexuals  called the Candy Store Era.  It was a time when anything went that ended about ten years later when AIDS made its appearance on the scene.  Of course if any of us had heard of the Stonewall Riot we would have missed its significance nor did anyone understand the astounding change that was the Candy Store Era or even know they were in it.  A sub-text of the Homosexual Revolution is the subversion of heterosexuality which goes without saying.  Thus the Factory was a prototype of the nightclub that would realize the ideal of absolutely promiscuous sex- Studio 54.  Thus as the homosexually led nightlife of the Candy Store Era developed Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager created the ultimate Factory in Studio 54.  That club was everything Andy wanted the Factory to be- a celebrity paradise.  The place was filled with celebrities, sexual perversion and drugs.  All inhibitions were down.  Studio 54 became Andy’s clubhouse where he spent his nights as a voyeur.

Rubell and Schrager were not overly discreet so that the Feds, at least, were onto them from the beginning although NYC authorities must have been paid off as they didn’t harass the club.  At Studio 54 the Undermen forged a very destructive attack on elite White America.  According to Anthony Haden-Guest in his book, Studio 54, a concerted assault was made to corrupt prep school youth- boys and girls by using drugs, liquor and sex.  According to Haden-Guest the conspirators were quite successful in debasing both boys and girls in much the same manner Edie had been debauched under Warhol’s tutelage.

This raises the question again of how innocent Andy really was.  His competitor Bob Dylan is supposed to have hated Andy for debauching Edie but that may have been the pot calling the kettle black.

Andy’s record of the treatment of women is not good but in keeping with the homosexual ethos.   The gays dislike women as competitors, as they believe, for men’s favors.  While not considering themselves psychotic they believe that if there were no women all men would be theirs.  The irrationality of the belief shall pass without comment.  Hence they imitate women to attract men.  An inevitable  consequence of their attitude is the need to debase and humiliate women.

While being of this mindset Andy as the little Ruthenian immigrant boy who was himself humiliated and rejected by the upper crust of  Pittsburgh found delight in debasing and humiliating upper crust women.  This runs through his whole career.  Edie came from a very old American family that was very prominent in both Stockbridge, Massachusetts, Boston, from whence they arose and New York City.  Her father had moved West from New York only shortly before she was born.  Although raised as a half wild girl on a vast ranch near Santa Barbara Edie could claim to be a New York society girl.  Indeed, her grandmother still maintained her position on the East Side.

While Andy may indeed have loved Edie it was probably more for her background than for herself.  The prize of an Anglo-American princess must have been beyond Andy’s juvenile dreams.  Indeed, it was through her that Andy first tasted any social success.  If they were inseparable during that glorious summer of ‘65 it was because Andy was basking in Edie’s social glamour.  And yet one doesn’t find reverence or respect for Edie as a person.  Andy allowed her to pick up the check at expensive restaurants not only for himself but his whole entourage of freeloaders.  As these were all Underclass people you may be sure they took full advantage of her largesse.  I am perhaps a trifle old fashioned but to me this is unforgivable in Andy.

While Andy may have been hard pressed financially to maintain his large and growing establishment there appears to have been no gratitude for Edie relieving the strain.  As his entourage grew Andy began to yearn for a restaurant where he could exchange art for food and drink.  This was provided in 1966, after Edie was out of favor, when Mickey Ruskin opened Max’s Kansas City in December of ‘65.

The rest of women at the Factory were treated with disrespect although they submitted to it with stoic resignation.  One reads with horror the treatment of Viva in Tucson during the filming of Warhol’s cowboy parody and putdown, once again a homosexual extravaganza.

And then there was the ever present sado-masochism that permeated the Factory.  An acceptance and celebration of the perversion.  The attitude was expressed successfully in the films of Paul Morrissey begun while Warhol was recuperating from Valerie Solanas’ assault.  With Andy unable to interfere Morrissey quickly turned out the movie Flesh with Joe Dallesandro which turned out to be a success in Germany.  This gave Andy confidence and Morrissey produced several more movies among them Flesh For Frankenstein.  I have no intention of reviewing the movie here but certain barbarities of the French arch-sadist Gilles de Rais were celebrated.

Women of some prominence played roles in the nude while performing sexually deviant acts.  This rather negative attitude toward women was reflected all through the history of the various Factorys carried on in the most degrading circumstances.

To add insult to injury when Edie was actually falling into her psychological abyss Andy shot The Andy Warhol Story with Rene Ricard and Edie in which both expressed their hatred and revulsion of Andy.  ( http://.warholstars.org/warhol/warhol1/warhol1f/warhol.html )

So by this time she had  been debased more than any man or woman should ever be debased.  Edie herself lay her destruction at the feet of Andy, the great facilitator, the sado-masochistic  doyen of New York.  I think Andy, then bears a great deal of responsibility for Edie’s shame.

Now, it will be noted.  The Andy Warhol Story was filmed at about the same time as his Bob Dylan Story so Edie and Dylan were connected in Andy’s mind.

As I said Warhol and his troupe left for LA in May of ‘66 after a successful month of the EPI.  When he returned to resume this lucrative enterprise he found that his hall, the Dom, had been leased from under him by- Albert Grossman and Bob Dylan.  They turned it into a venue inanely named The Balloon Farm.  Another act of plagiarism by Dylan.  I think this was too much for Warhol.  First Edie and then the Dom.  This was surely provocation asking for trouble, demanding it.

Now, if you’ve watched the post-1968 Warhol movie Bad how far is it from Bad to conjecture that Andy and his crew were responsible for Dylan’s accident?  Bad concerns a woman who runs a clearing house for dirty deeds written by Andy’s amanuensis, Pat Hackett.  Andy had to have been angry at Dylan and Grossman and indeed he filmed a put down of the two.  Quoting Warholstars.org:

Sterling Morrison of the Velvet Underground:

Paul Caruso

“Dylan was always around, giving Nico songs.  There was one film Andy made with Paul Caruso called The Bob Dylan Story.  I don’t think Andy has ever shown it.  It was hysterical.  They got Marlowe Dupont to play Al Grossman.  Paul Caruso not looks like Bob Dylan but as a super caricature he makes even Hendrix look pale by comparison.  This was around 1966 when the film was made and his hair was way out to here…On the eve of the filming, Paul had a change of heart and got his hair cut off- close to his head and he must have removed about a foot so everyone was upset about that.  Then Dylan had his accident and that is why the film was never shown.”

So, in July smarting from the indignities imposed on him by Dylan and Grossman Andy was making a ‘hilarious’ film about the two.  Perhaps Andy thought that was not enough so somewhere during the filming, one conjectures, he conceived this motorcycle rigging.  Thus, in late July Dylan went over the handlebars when his rear wheel locked.  Anything could have happened to him from paralysis to death.  As it was he fractured his neck coming within an ace of serious injury.

Andy hadn’t finished with The Bob Dylan Story.  He wanted to work in the accident.  Probably aggrieved at Dylan’s survival Andy recommenced the film in October of ‘66 probably with the Andy Warhol Story starring Edie in mind.

Warholstars once again:

Susan Pile

Susan Pile speaking:

Andy filmed the Bob Dylan Story starring Paul Caruso…Ingrid Superstar and I were folkrock groupies who rushed in (to Paul Caruso) attacked his body and taped him to the motorcycle…Paul Morrissey suggested all of Paul Caruso’s  lines be from songs, but Andy, knowing it was a good idea (this is a direct relay from Paul Morrissey) vetoed it…My one line (what I wasn’t supposed to say; I was to remain mutely sinister) was “You’re just like P.F. Sloan and all the rest- you want to become famous so you can get rid of those pimples.” (accompanied by quick slaps to P. Caruso’s acne remnanted cheeks.)…

So, what do we have here?  Bear in the mind the subject matter of Bad which is a very violent movie of revenges made in the most casual manner.  Morrison’s account is given before the accident while Pile’s is after.

Pile and Ingrid attack Caruso/Dylan and mockingly tape him to the motorcycle so that he can’t fall off.  (ha, ha, ha).  Pile then delivers a devastating putdown comparing Dylan unfavorably to P.F. Sloan.  Sloan was the guy who wrote the puerile Eve Of Destruction that was very near  to being a humorous parody of Dylan’s songs such as Blowin’ In The Wind.  If Dylan had seen the film he would likely have been enraged.  Pile than calls Dylan’s song ‘pimple music’ another put down as rock n’ roll was derisively called pimple music because teenagers had pimples.  And then Caruso/Dylan is physically abused by having his face slapped while being unable to retort because he is taped to the bike.

Psychologically then what Andy is saying is that he felt the filching of Edie as a slap in the face while when he was in LA he was unable to foil the filching of the Dom.

This combination of Dylan and the motorcycle in a film called The Bob Dylan Story points clearly to Andy as the perp.

And so the final chapter will concern the filming of Ciao Manhattan and the demise of Edie.  I have some other work to be done so there will be a delay before Chapter 16 appears.

Edie Sedgwick
Maid Of Constant Sorrow
Chapters 9,10, 11, 12
by
R.E. Prindle
Chapter 9
Leavin’ On A Jet Plane
by
R.E. Prindle
 
 

The 707

 

DC 6B

 

There are arguments about the psychological duration of the sixties mentality.  The limits run from 1956  at the beginning to 1974 at the end.  There are reasonable arguments for those parameters.  I would argue that the sixties began on August  26, 1959 when Pan American World Airways inaugurated non-stop jet service from New York to London, and ending with Altamont in 1969.  Before was merely prologue and post-Altamont merely aftermath.
The sixties are unthinkable without the arrival of trans-Atlantic jet service.  With the jets, the Jet Set came into existence.  The Jet Set was the envy of the entire generation.  There’s little we wouldn’t have done to have been part of it.  Thus when Pan-Am put the first 707-320 into the air the conditions for the sixties were in place.
Boeing won the race to commercial jets and what a plane the 707 was.  In late 1956 I was sent from Philly to San Francisco via a DC6B.  The DC7 was the reigning prop plane at the time but the 6B was just behind.  The 707 not only added jets but dimension.  The DC 6B was just a flying cigar with about a 50 passenger capacity.  Very narrow, claustrophobic and I don’t suffer from claustrophobia.  At somewhat less than 300 miles an hour the 2600 miles from Philly to the West Coast took a major part of the day.  We left Philly at about 6:00 PM and arrried the next day just after sun-up.  The pressurization was terrible; I arrived with my ear drums bursting while the pain lasted well into the week.  I thought I was permanently damaged.  It wasn’t a great experience.
By contrast the 707 was twice as fast with a feeling of roominess and excellent pressurization.  Pan Am’s 707-120 flight that refueled in Newfoundland carried 111 passengers the most ever on a commercial flight.  So the modern era of flight was innaugurated.  A, if not The, future had arrived and it actually did work.  Not only worked but exploded.
The Jet Set could now commute between New York and London over the weekend, or even one could fly to New York, have lunch and be back in London to sleep in your own bed that night.  For people with money the expense was negligible.  All of a sudden travel posters appeared in everyone’s appartment.  London, Paris, Rome, Swiss skiing.  It was a sign of our desires, a longing to travel that was soon fulfilled whether you could afford it or not.  Along with the jet need came other needs that had to be fulfilled, a new outlook, new clothes, new hairstyles.  Whole new economic vistas opened up for the uninfranchised who had the vision: Mary Quant, Vidal Sassoon and a host of others.  Did we need advertising to create those needs?  Not by a long shot.
It took ages for the established firms to catch on.  Meanwhile the portals of opportunity were blown wide open.  Perhaps the phenomenal  response to the Beatles was merely a symptom of those new ideas.  The Beatles clothes, the haircuts, their naive insouciance.  They just epitomized the new attitude as the Rolling Stones nor any other group ever could.  It didn’t have anything to do with the music itself.
Thus by the time Andy set up his headquarters at the Silver Factory things were shifting into high gear of which he was a beneficiary, but then he had the style too.  The defining Pop moment for Warhol was the incredible visit of Pope John VI made possible by the big 707 jets.  But let Andy give his breathless account from Popism, pp. 134-135:
A week or so after Philadelphia I got a real lesson in show business and Pop style.  Just when you think you’re getting famous, somebody comes along and makes you look like a warm up act for amateur night.  Pope Paul VI, talk about advance PR- I mean, for centuries.
Definitely the most Pop public appearance tour of the sixties was that visit of the Pope to New York City.  He did it all in one day- October, 15, 1965.  It was the most well-planned media covered personal appearance in religious (and probably show business) history.  “Never Before in This Country!  One Day Only!  The Pope in New York City!”
The funny thing for us, of course, was that Ondine was known in our crowd as “the Pope,” and one of his most famous routines was “giving the papal bull.”
The (real) Pope and his entourage of aides, press and photographers left Rome early that morning on an Alitalia DC-8.  Eight hours and twenty minutes later, they got off the plane at Kennedy with the Pope’s shiny robes blowing in the wind.  They drove in a motorcade through Queens- the streets were lined with people- through Harlem crowds, and then down to the jammed- for blocks St. Patrick’s Cathedral area in the Fifties- where the Pope seemed to want to go out in “the audience” but you could see his aides talking him out of it.  After all the stuff in the cathedral he ran down the street to the Waldorf-Astoria where President Johnson was waiting.  They exchanged gifts and talked for a little under an hour about world troubles.  Then it was over to address the UN General Assembly (essentially he said, “Peace, disarmament and no birth control”) out to Yankee Stadium to say Mass in front of ninety thousand people, over to the closing World’s Fair to see Michelangelo’s Pieta in its Pop context before it went back to the Vatican, and back out to Kennedy and onto a TWA plane, saying, when the reporters asked him what he liked best about New York, “Tutti Buoni” (Everything is good”) which was the Pop philosophy exactly.  He was back in Rome that same night.  To do that much in that short a time with that kind of style- I can’t imagine anything more Pop than that.
Yes, left Andy breathless and why not?  I wasn’t there but as the motorcade passed by the Factory and Andy looked down on the scene perhaps it was the or a defining moment of the sixties.  Certainly it was a masterpiece of planning and execution for what would have been a small army.
Andy himself had joined the Jet Set back in May when he was summoned to Paris for an art exhibition.  Originally sent a ticket for an ocean voyage Andy asked his sponsors for a change to four air tickets taking a small entourage with him including Edie.  One can only imagine his elation as the big jet liner lifted off the tarmac.  Certainly a defining moment of the sixties for Andy.  By the seventies and eighties Andy and his entourage were part of the Jet Set flying back and forth repeatedly.
Chapter 10.
The System Of Dr. Tarr And Professor Fether

The Heyday Of Andy And Edie

For those of us out in the provinces Warhol and his Factory were an ongoing phenomenon.  It all seemed sort of crazy or insane but inescapable.  His movies while perhaps being experimental were too bizarre to contemplate.  The ‘superstars’ with names like Ultra Violent and International Velvet who were merely girls and not stars of anything were viewed with amazement.  Quite frankly, we didn’t know what to think but had the cool to act like we were with it.  If there was something happening here we thought we knew what it was.
Obviously New Yorkers themselves had different understandings of the phenomenon.  Unaware of the meaning of the rise of Warhol some were condescending to this outre individual and his entourages but curious.  Andy’s strengths were of course in the art world and the homosexual  community more than in the straight world.  Thus at the beginning of 1966 the New York Society For Clinical Psychiatry extended an invitation to Andy to speak at their annual banquet.
This was a dangerous invitation for them to make to a group of quasi-maniacs on dope, for Andy wouldn’t come alone while I suspect the invitation was made in bad faith.  I think the psychiatrists thought they would amuse themselves at Andy’s expense.  It’s not improbable that Andy suspected this intent.  As the program chairman, Dr. Robert Campbell, said post-banquet in a NYTimes interview:  Creativity and the artist have always held a fascination for the serious student of human behavior.  And we’re fascinated by the mass communications activities of Warhol and his group.  In that statement I think the tone of the question and answer segment would have been set.
It is not like certain people in the Warhol entourage hadn’t experience with the psychiatric establishment of New York.  Several of them may very likely have been in the hands of psychiatrists there they recognized.  While the psychiatrists considered their methods quite reasonable those who had suffered at their hands had somewhat different sentiments.  One of the more bizarre of their methods and one that Dr. Mengele would have envied was electro-shock therapy.

Edie And Andy- Sitting On Top Of The World

To a layman like myself the rationale of electro-shock seems quite absurd.  How sending electricity coursing through someone’s brain is supposed to change that someone’s psychology in the direction desired by the doctors is beyond my understanding.  In point of fact it didn’t change anyone’s psychology, not that of Edie Sedgwick nor that of Lou Reed, two of Andy’s entourage, anyway.  While Edie was more passive about it, Reed was enraged.  Andy sympathized with Reed which didn’t bode well for the psychiatrists.
Nineteen sixty-six was a swing year for the sixties.  At that time right at the peak things began to go sour leading up to the twin disasters of Stonewall and Altamont.  Drugs were at the heart of the problem.  As the year began the amphetamine users had been on the stuff for six years or more.  And they we’re taking massive doses.  Edie was already over the edge while Andy’s A-men like Ondine and Rotten Rita were at the point of unraveling.
This use of speed had been mixed with alcohol and marijuana.  In addition the psychedelics that had been gaining in prominence since the fifties were becoming ubiquitous and multiplying.  Aldous Huxley’s psychedelic bible, The Doors Of Perception, celebrating the virtues of mescaline had appeared in 1954 when it was well received by dopers.  Psilocybin and peyote were available for the more adventurous and knowledgeable while the greatest hit of all, LSD, had been increasing in popularity.  Already well established on the West Coast and in Hollywood well before Dr. Timothy Leary became its proselytizer after 1960, the psychedelic was becoming endemic.
Heck, in the fifties the CIA was using hookers in San Francisco to dose Johns with the stuff unbeknownst to the Johns.  Agents behind two way mirrors were doubling over in laughter watching the action.  And of course the chemists were busy rearranging molecules to create new sensations.  Look out below!
Along with the use of drugs came the inevitable separation from both reality and morality.  As Warhol said:  If you don’t like what’s happening to you pretend it’s a movie.  And people did.  All of a sudden people were walking around in buckskins like they were actors in a Western movie.  Don’t Bogart that joint was a tribute to Humphrey Bogart’s smoking style.  Bette Davis eyes….  I knew one guy who thought prison movies were a joke.  He got himself arrested on drug charges thinking it was a lark, just another scene in his movie.  Two or three years later he came back and found the joke was on him.  His former cronies who all seemed to have been in on the joke at the time now wouldn’t have anything to do with an ex-con.  The guy’s movie turned from a comedy into a tragedy.  It was painful to watch.
As people drugged out, subconscious desires rose to the surface, they attempted to become what they couldn’t be thus islolating themselves and destroying their lives.  As Andy also said:  During the sixties people forgot what emotions were supposed to be and he  didn’t think they ever remembered.  At the same time morality became confused with what the individual wanted at the moment.
The psychiatrists were no more immune to drugs than the street people.  Lou Reed wanted some kind of revenge for the suffering he had endured at the hands of the psychiatrists.  Of course when Dr. Campbell extended the invitation to Andy he had no idea what that would include.  Dr. Tarr was to meet Professor Fether.
One can’t be certain what the psychiatrists were thinking when they invited Andy to speak; it’s not exactly clear what they thought he would talk about although the banquet was billed as  ‘The Chic Mystique Of Andy Warhol.’  Andy on his part saw the invitation as an opportunity to ‘epater les pyschiatristes’, and he did.

Velvet Underground And Nico

The two chief accounts of the banquet are Andy’s own as recorded in POPism and a review published in the NYTimes ( http://www.warholstars.org/warhol/warhol/andy/loureed.html )
The event took place on either 1/10 or 1/13 while the Times account was published on 1/14.  The writer, Grace Glueck, does not appear to have been present but relies on reports from other persons.  She quotes Dr. Robert Campbell, the organizer, as saying he ‘was fascinated by the mass communications activities of Warhol and his group.’
Miss Glueck goes on to record the reactions of some of the psychiatrists in attendance:  ‘I suppose you could call this gathering a spontaneous eruption of the id.
‘…a repetition of the concrete quite akin to the L.S.D. experience.’
‘Why are they exposing us to these nuts?’
And finally:  ‘Put it down to decadent Dada.  It was ridiculous, outrageous, painful.  It seemed like a whole (psycho) ward has escaped.’

Edgar Deep In Thought

Yes, the inmates had taken charge of the asylum.  The scene was quite reminiscent of the dinner in Edgar Allan Poe’s famous story:  The System Of Doctor Tarr And Professor Fether.  One might describe it as Lou Reed intended it, as shock treatment for the psychiatrists as well as the repetition of the concrete electro-shock therapy.  As John Cale, the violinist of the group, was to admit a few decades later:  That was revenge- Lou’s revenge…and I was all for it.  So evidently was Andy Warhol.
At the time Andy seemed to be enamored of his crowd but in his subconscious other feelings were stirring.  On page 370 of his diary referring to the Factory years Andy says:
I’d dreamt about Billy Name, that he was living under the stairs of my house and doing sommersaults and everything was very colorful.  It was so weird, because his friends sort of invaded my house and were acting crazy in colorful costumes and jumping up and down having so much fun and they took over, they took over my life.  It was so weird.  It was like clowns.
Everybody was a clown in a funny way, and they were just living there without letting me know, they’d come out in the morning when I wasn’t there and they’d have a lot of fun and then they’d go back and live in the closet.

Malanga and Dylan

It almost sounds like Andy confounded the banquet with Name and his friends actually living in the Factory inhabiting his life, or house psychologically.  So Andy was uncomfortable with his situation but as he equates terrorism of the sort inflicted on the psychiatrists as ‘having fun’ he was amused.  Nevertheless when the Factory moved in 1968 he cut these people off from him.
Andy’s account of the banquet was recorded in his memoir POPism pp.  146-147:
I was invited to speak at the annual banquet of the New York Society For Clinical Psychiatry by the doctor who was chairman of the event.  I told him I’d be glad to ‘speak’ if I could do it though movies, that I’d show Harlot and Henry Geldzahler and he said fine.  Then when I met the Velvets I decided that I wanted to speak with them instead, and he said fine to that too.
So one evening in the middle of January everybody in the Factory went over to the Delmonico Hotel where the banquet was taking place.  We got there just as it just was starting.  There were about three hundred pychiatrists and their mates and dates- and all they’d been told was that they were going to see movies after dinner.  The second the main course was served, the Velvets started to blast and Nico started to wail.  Gerard and Edie jumped up on the stage and started dancing, and the doors flew open and Jonas Mekas and Barbara Rudin with her crew of people with cameras and bright lights came storming into the room and rushing over to the psychiatrists asking them questions like:
‘What does her vagina feel like?’
‘Is his penis big enough?’
‘Do you eat her out?  Why are you getting embarrassed?  You’re a psychiatrist; you’re not supposed to get embarrassed!
Edie had come with Bobby Neuwirth.  While the crews filmed and Nico sang her Dylan song, (I’ll Keep It With Mine) Gerard noticed (and he told me this later) that Edie was trying to sing, too, but even in that incredible din, it was obvious she didn’t have a voice.  He always looked back to that night as the last she ever went out with us in public, except for a party here and there.  He thought she’d felt upstaged that night, that she’d realized that Nico was the new girl in town.
Edie and Nico were so different, there was no good reason to compare them, really.  Nico was so cool, and Edie was so bubbly.  But the sad thing was, Edie was taking a lot of heavy drugs, and she was getting vaguer and vaguer.  Her society lady attitude toward pills had changed to an addict attitude.  Some of her good friends tried to help her, but she couldn’t listen to them.  She said she wanted a “career” and that she’d get one since Grossman was managing her.  But how can you have a career when you don’t have the discipline to work at anything?
Gerard had noticed how lost Edie looked at that psychiatrists’ banquet, but I can’t say I noticed; I was too busy watching the psychiatrists.  They were really upset and some of them started to leave, the ladies in their long dresses and the men in their black ties.  As if the music- the feedback actually- that the Velvets were playing wasn’t enough to drive them out, the movie lights were blinding them and the questions were making them turn red and stutter because the kids wouldn’t let up, they just kept asking for more.  And Gerard did his notorious whip dance.  I loved it all.
And there we have Andy’s version recalled fifteen years later.     His account can be divided into two parts.  On the one hand the banquet and on the other Andy’s blighted relationship, call it an affair of the heart, with Edie.  Andy devotes 22 lines to the banquet and 15 to Edie.
Regardless of what Bob Dylan might now say there was intense competition between he and Andy for the possession of Edie.  That competition complicated by Warhol’s homosexuality and Dylan’s committment in marriage to so Sara Lowndes.  It is doubtful that Warhol could have maintained a relationship without paying physical attention to Edie although it is not impossible that some modus vivendi could have been worked out.  Certainly in the case of P.G. Wodehouse and his wife such an arrangement was worked out.
Dylan’s intentions were entirely dishonorable.  He was too self-centered to maintain a relationship with any woman except wholly on his terms.  Not only would he consider marriage only with a Jewish woman

Dylan

and that solely to fulfull a religious obligation to be fruitful and multiply, but he divided women into two classes, Madonnas and sluts.  Sara was his Madonna and all other women were sluts to be used solely for his pleasure.  Thus he could not have respected Edie.
He also had a serious mother problem.  Sometime around puberty his mother told him that he had blighted her plans for living life as she wanted by being born.  In other words he was an encumbrance to her life as a free spirit.  Thus his attitude toward himself and life took a dark turn about the age of twelve.  For some reason, perhaps ‘her fogs, her amphetamines and her pearls’ Edie reminded Dylan of his mother’s wish for the high life.  Now, it is absolutely taboo for a man to punish his mother so men take out their animosity to their mothers  on other women, hence all these serial killers of women, mother surrogates.  So, Dylan was essentially punishing his mother through Edie.

Neuwirth

Edie had walked out on Andy in December of ’65 when she jumped to the Dylan camp in the expectation that Dylan and Grossman were going to do something for her in the way of a ‘career’, especially something that involved a large paycheck.  As I have pointed out elsewhere there were many things that could have been done to capitalize on Edie’s extraordinary unearned fame.  There was money to be made there but either Grossman and Dylan lacked the imagination or they merely wanted to remove the girl from Warhol’s sphere and then to hell with her.
The latter is what was done.  Dylan had passed her to his sidekick Bobby Neuwirth and thus it was Neuwirth who escorted Edie to the banquet.  Warhol notes this then ruefully mentions that Nico, who was now in his camp, was singing the song Dylan wrote and gave to her.
Dylan had met Nico in Greece a couple years earlier when she was really depressed.  He wrote I’ll Keep It With Mine and gave it to her as her song.  In the video clip linked above the Velvet Underground are playing Venus In Furs.  The cacophany would have driven the psychiatrists out so I doubt they would have listened to more than one song.  Andy is misremembering and projecting.  Dylan had been a thorn in his side and would continue to be.  Indeed, after Neuwirth and Edie reported the spectacular doings at the banquet Dylan showed up at the Factory a couple of days later to get a fuller report.
Edie, on the the video clip, does look a little lost on stage but as it was crowded so does Malanga.  If Nico was trying to sing there was no chance she could have been heard.  Andy is clearly still suffering from Edie’s abandonment.  In his diary for 1977 he mentions meeting Neuwirth at a party where they discuss a couple of Neuwirth’s old girl firends, one of which was Edie.  As Edie was as close to love as Andy could get he had to resent Dylan for taking her away.
The situation with the psychiatrists was evidently secondary in his mind to Edie, but the event had been carefully planned, nothing that happened there was accidental.  This event would set the tone for the next few decades; a new direction in impolite social discourse had been established.  Nor was this an isolated event without consequences, the psychiatrists must have gone away steaming with vengeance on their minds.
Chapter 11
From Out Of The Looney Bin

The Man Of A Thousand Faces

In a different context Sam Cooke was singing A Change Is Gonna Come while Bob Dylan was singing The Times They Are A Changin’ and it may have been the Byrds who were chanting Change Is Now, all normal conditions.  Currently there’s a song which has a video that simulates an insane asylum in which the inmate screams:  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing wrong with me and then the lead singer comes in screaming four times ‘Something’s gotta give, somthing’s gotta give, somethings’s gotta give, somethings gotta give.’  The banquet was where these two worlds collided…Worlds In Collision.  The irresistible force met the immovable object.
There was a premonition of this evolution  a year or so earlier when Dylan got up to receive the Tom Paine award from the pre-Khruschev Communists and roundly insulted them as old fogies.  Well, you know, the times they were a changin’.

Sigmund Alone Is His Study

Let’s take a look at the psychiatrists.  First it may be necessary to explain the difference between Depth or Freudian psychology and psychiatry.  You don’t need a medical degree to practice psychology, you do to practice psychiatry.  Freudians essentially believe that there is a gap between perception and reality in the mind caused by cognitive dissonance while psychiatrists believe the gap is caused by a physical malfunction somewhere in the brain that can be solved by surgical means, drugs or some external stimulation like electro-shock therapy, to what is an internal perceptual problem.
Hence Edie who really had nothing wrong with her except inexperience with the world was subjected to electro-shock therapy; Lou Reed whose homosexuality was beyond medical treatment was also subjected to electro-shock.  The psychiatrists at one time thought that teeth caused mental problems proposing to alleviate the symptoms by pulling all a poor wretches teeth.  In addition some perverted genius came up with the idea of pre-frontal lobotomies, and he wasn’t a Nazi doctor either, while one had a choice between electro-shock and the equally if not more bizarre insulin shock therapy.
In addition the drugs psychiatrists give to their patients have side effects more serious than the original ailment.  One has to remember that the Dr. Feelgoods such as Max Jacobson and Dr. Roberts, MDs while not psychiatrists, were giving super massive doses of amphetamines to everyone from the President of the United States on down.  Edie received massive doses from Dr. Roberts who was himself

Her Fogs Her Amphetamines And Her Pearls

befuddled by drugs.
Dr. Max Jacobson is a horror story.
Is it any wonder that the Factory hands were rebelling against the pyschiatrists?  Who were these psychiatrists?  As this was 1966 it must be true that over half were Jews, the so-called smartest people in the world, while of those Jews, I’m only guessing, fully half must have been Central and East European Jews who had emigrated during the Hitler years, many probably with very doubtful credentials.  The difference between Dr. Mengele and the Nazi doctors with these psychiatrists is minimal in my mind.
What sort of madmen would subject victims to massive electrical charges and expect beneficial results?  Besides these guys were probably all on drugs anyway.  And these psychiatrists had absolute authority, no different than the Nazi doctors, over those committed to their care.  I mean, there was no way for a patient to question or appeal his treatment.
Now, who were the Factory people.  What exactly are we dealing with here?  A bunch of loonies with Andy Warhol presiding as the Magister Ludi.  Andy, a pervert of the first magnitude.
When Warhol came to New York in 1950 from Pittsburgh he was no longer willing to conceal his homosexuality as he had had to do back home.  He arrived in New York an open homo.  Nor was he ever willing to compromise on what he was.  The avant garde of NYC was homo almost to a man.  The painters Warhol most wanted to impress were also homos but they abjured the lisp and mince not feeling the need to display their sexuality on their sleeves.  They rejected Andy because he did.
One, there’s nothing wrong with me.
Two, there’s nothing wrong with me.
Three, there’s nothing wrong with me.
Four, there’s nothing wrong with me.
Andy bore the insults but he patiently worked to impose his values as well as his art on society.
One, something’s got to give.
Two, something’s got to give.
Three, something’s got to give.
Four, something’s got to give.
In line with that approach he organized the Factory which was a homosexual clubhouse and promotional tool.  Essentially that is what the psychiatrists wanted to question.  While the posters, or paintings if you prefer, were more sexually neutral as soon as Andy had the necessary celebrity he began to make prodigiously boring movies that weren’t that good but avant gardists felt obliged to respect.  I mean, there are boring movies and then there are politically correct boring movies.  The audacity of his film Blow Job, the title was enough to undermine then morality, forced his notions on at least the college generation.  Whether the blower was seen, was male or female, was irrelevant;  Andy was promoting oral sex.  In his later years his pictures would become even more openly homosexually erotic.
The impact of that movie, whether you’d seen it or not, was enormous, liberating many repressed eyes.  So Warhol and his fellow fags, viz.  Rotten Rita, at the Factory were revolutionists leading up to the sharp, short battle of the Stonewall Tavern on Christopher Street, the ultimate fag street in the world, in 1969 that overthrew the entire restrictive attitude toward homosexuals in one fell swoop across the entire United States.  It was one of the worst things that ever happened.
The homo revolution didn’t stop there.  Pyschiatrists and psychologists still recognized homosexuality for what it is, a mental psychosis.
One, there’s nothing wrong with me.
Two, something’s got to give.
Three, let the bodies hit the floor.
The idea that they were ‘sick’ oppressed the homosexual psyche so they mau-mau’d psychiatrists in much the same manner Warhol had except that they were much more violent.  Just as the lesbians took over the feminist movement by showing up with baseball bats and threatening to beat the shit out of anyone who disgreed with them, so the homos treated the pyschologists compelling the wimps to drop the psychosis business.
Let the bodies hit the floor.
Let the bodies hit the floor.
Let the bodies hit the floor.
Let the bodies hit the floor.
So, as the psychiatrists let Warhol in the door he decided to take full advantage of them giving them a dose of their own medicine, so to speak.  At first he apparently intended to bore them to death with his stupid movies, but then, as he said, when he associated himself with the Velvet Underground a new plan took shape in his mind.  A new form of electro-shock therapy at 180 decibels.
The Velvets were a product of the avant garde.  John Cale the violinist was a protogee of the terminally boring ‘One Note’ La Monte Young.  Young was a devotee of the dynamo hum.  As a child he used to stand around the old transmission stations and listen to the transformers hum.   In those days the transformers used to spark and keep up a stead unvarying hum.  It was really something to hear.  The sparking and hum would probably have reminded Lou Reed of the juice flowing through him.  It was a great sound, very mesmerizing, but I never became as obsessed with it as La Monte Young.  Anyway Young’s avant gardism was based on the dynamo hum and the Velvets one chord music was based on La Monte Young.  I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere but I haven’t found it yet.  It is laughable though.
The good news is, through the wonders of the internet time machine you can listen to the Velvet’s

Lou Running A Temperature

performance (here).  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNwp4nNTeJg
While warhol informed Dr. Campbell of the movies and the Velvets he didn’t say anything to them about Jonas Mekas and Barbara Rubin or the mocking Factory hands.
Jonas Mekas is an interesting character.  He came to the United States after WWII.  He had moved through various Displaced Persons camps in West Germany in the vile post-war years before emigrating.  I’m not clear on his ethnicity but he’s probably Jewish.  Once in NY, arriving at nearly the same time as Andy, he associated himself with the avant garde eventually emulating the Cinematheque Francaise when the experimental film makers of NY began creating a body of work.
A cinematheque is a library of films.  The French version was begun in the 1930s by Henri Langlois.  After a period of vicisssitudes caused by the war the archives of the Cinematheque Francaise has become a major archive of tens of thousands of films.  Mekas began collecting avant garde NY films on a much smaller scale of course but Warhol’s films were so marginal that many thought Mekas should exclude them  Mekas stood up for Andy exhibiting his films without which help Warhol films would have been consigned then and there to the dustbin of history.   Even more so than they have been.
Mekas at this time was employing a Jewish woman named Barbara Rubin as his assistant.  Rubin was marginally sane exhibiting all the sexual obsessions of the unbalanced.  The previous year she had made a film entitled Christmas On Earth.  Her Christmas on earth was envisioned as a huge sexual orgy, not with a cast of thousands, but a lot.  A few stills are available on the internet but I haven’t found any video clips.   Interestingly Andy’s assistant and collaborator, Gerard Malanga, had a prominent role.
Mekas did film this psychiatric spectacle but the film is locked away from human eyes.  God only knows why.

John Cale as Old Hipster Contemplating The Dynamo Hum

It might be appropriate to say something here about Gerard Malanga.  I might have to repeat myself at some later date but, you know, I’m 73 and there might not be a later date so I’ll say it now and perhaps later if I’m still around to tell the tale.  Malanga at this time at the beginning of 1966 was being placed in a difficult situation.  Within New York circles he was considered a poet of some distinction, he wasn’t just Andy’s helper.  He added luster to the Factory being much more than one of Andy’s vagrant perverts.  He was instrumental in the success of Warhol’s silk screen period.  As I’ve mentioned before Andy’s silk screens are little more than posters.  Andy was very lucky in finding associates who could advance his projects.  I mean Malanga, Mekas, Edie, Bob Colacello, Fred Hughes, Paul Morrissey, how lucky can you get?
When modern (60s) posters began they were travel posters fostered by jet setting.  During the early sixties they were de riguer, everyone had a couple.  Then the big personality posters came in with the Ben Day dots.  These were really impressive and something more, 36×24, and only cost a dollar.  Of course, a dollar back then was really something too, but what a bargain.  Then the Fillmore and Family Dog posters began appearing coupled with the fabulous East Totem West.  These were all printed.  Now, when I emphasize these posters don’t think they were universally accepted, they pervaded only the hip or Bohemian culture.  The were looked on aghast by the straight world.  Strangely, as though from another planet.
By 1966-67 black light designs were becoming prominent, those were mostly silk screened in flourescent colors and then they added flocking a little later.  Under a black light you were talking mind blowing.  With fluorescent colors and silk screen paints some fabulous designs were produced, usually priced at 3.00 but big.  These things really flipped the straights.
So when Andy began silk screening about 1963 he knew next to nothing of the process, however Gerard

Gerard

Malanga, who he now hired as his assistant, did.  There were mechanically operated screening machines capable of turning out unlimited quantities of copies but Warhol and Malanga used a manual method allowing for more variations in results.  At this stage then, Malanga became a collaborator making material suggestions as well as supplying knowledgeable labor.
Gerard also took Andy around to cultural events, poetry readings, and such thus broadening Andy’s rather limited cultural background.  Andy hired Gerard at the minimum wage and never over the years did he raise wages over the minimum wage level.
Gerard profited by his association with Andy becoming something of a figure in the avant garde scene without ever becoming the celebrity that Edie became.  He was in several of Andy’s movies as well as the Rubin sexcapade.  However as his fame and presence in the New York scene grew he faced the same problem Edie had.  He didn’t have the money to enjoy his celebrity.  Sixty dollars a week or so wasn’t going to take him very far.  So, what to do?
Andy ran off large numbers of impressions of his posters, none of these were originals.  For an exhibition at the Ferus Gallery in LA ( there’s a movie available on the Ferus and the LA avant garde)  he sent off a two hundred foot roll of Presleys advising them to cut it up as they saw fit.  He had a stack of Marilyns leaning against the wall that a women came in and put a bullet through Marilyns forehead through the whole stack.  Andy occasionally gave pictures away.  He either gave or let Bob Dylan appropriate one for his screen test.
There was value in these copies laying around so Gerard felt himself entitled to take some to supplement his income.  When he was stranded in Europe he even created an original, the Che Guevara Warhol and sold them.
How is one to view this?  In my estimation one has two types of Warhols.  One has on the one side Warhol-Malangas and on the other Malanga-Warhols.  In one case the screens are collaborative efforts, on the other Malanga originals.  While the Guevaras are considered fakes or counterfeits I think they have every claim to authenticity as Warhols even though they were conceived and executed in whole by Malanga.  Gerard also later either took or produced other posters which he sold.  These are now considered fakes by the Warhol Trust under Fred Hughes.  Maybe.  But Gerard was entitled to better compensation than Andy was giving him while the screens or posters were as much Gerard’s labor and input as Andy’s.
So, whatever, but beginning in 1966 and the move into the performance art of Andy’s Exploding Plastic Inevitable and trips to LA Gerard was woefully underpaid.  He was virtually a Warhol partner in my estimation.
At the banquet he performed his whip dance while Edie bopped around.
Thus, just as the waiters brought around the roast beef, string beans and new potatoes, and they called that a banquet, the inmates of the asylum burst through the doors, this is the entire Factory crowd of reprobates, to harass the unsuspecting psychiatrists.  They threw down their knives and forks streaming for the doors.
Miss Glueck in the NYTimes began spreading what was an amazing story via her commentary in the paper.  This was sensational.
Chapter 12
A Scandal In Bohemia

Andy And Gerard

I’m sure Andy’s audacious incivility was the talk of the town for a few days.  While not exactly getting away with a crime the whole fabric of civil discourse was shredded.  The word of what Andy had gotten away with quickly spread across the country in homosexual and/or revolutionary circles.  It was learned that you could disrupt anything without consequences and in the long run it would prove that these disrupters and obstructionists would profit mightily.  Certainly by the turn of the century there were few of them  who weren’t in enviable positions.  With the election of Obama the  Weather terror underground was in control of the country.  They had gotten away with it and pulled it off under the very eyes of the authorities.  Andy himself died in 1987 a very wealthy man.  Today his estate under the management of Fred Hughes is worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
A plethora of people and organizations emerged who were quite willing to disregard everyone else’s rights and desires to impose their own on all.  This may have begun with the Berkeley Free Speech Movement, which had nothing to do with free speech, in which a small group of dissidents upset the University of California bringing education to a halt.  They were accommodated.  In the end the dissidents were in control, not the regents, temporarily at least.  Today, of course, the student body of UC is nearly entirely Asian and the whole brouhaha has absolutely no relevance.  It’s their university, now.  That magnficent library of the European heritage has absolutely no relevance to them.  The Asian library is terrific too.

Bomber Billy Ayers

The Free Speech Movement was expanded out into the terrorist organization Students For A Democratic Society, which had nothing to do with democracy, but the imposition of a narrow view of bigots,  and an assault was made on the entire university system of the country.  This attempt failed, most notably at the Chicago Democratic Convention of ’68 where they made fools of themselves, but from which came the criminal and evil Bomber Billy Ayers and his Weather Underground which today has captured the Presidency of the United States.  The dissidents are now distributing the largess in an authoritarian manner.
While symptomatic of the larger picture and part of that picture on the local level in New York, Andy was even more influential.  New York Bohemianism itself has managed to impose its ideals on the entire culture and that largely through Warhol’s efforts.  It is interesting however to note that George Du Maurier, the late nineteenth century author, thought that such an event would be beneficial.  Boy, did George get that wrong.
I haven’t read an account of Bohemia that wasn’t written by a Bohemian or someone sympathetic to Bohemia.  Thus the romance of Bohemia supplants the reality.  This is not recent either, the roots are deep into the nineteenth century.  Henri Murger’s The Bohemians Of The Latin Quarter celebrates Bohemianism in early nineteenth century Paris.  Puccini based his opera, La Vie Boheme on Murger’s book.  Dumas and Balzac both have a Bohemian outlook.  Perhaps the most famous celebrator and believer in Bohemianism was the late nineteenth century author George Du Maurier.  His three novels- Peter Ibbetson, Trilby and The Martian are a perfect example of sentimental Bohemianism and well worth reading.
Du Maurier’s Bohemia and Bohemianism was before drugs became ubiquitous or Freudian sexual attitudes became predominate although something like them existed at the time, but there was a civility of sorts that prevailed but has since disappeared.   As Warhol put it, in the sixties people forgot what emotions were and haven’t recovered them since.
With the sixties civility came to an end.  The criminal element and mentality prevailed in the Bohemia of Warhol’s time while Andy himself had a sadistic attitude.  His term for disruptive or anti-social behavior was ‘having fun.’
Perhaps Edie is symptomatic of the descent into madness, a modern day La Dame Aux Camellias.  the scene in the Village was an embarrassment for ‘respectable’ New Yorkers.  Underneath the antics of the Bohos real crime seethed, child brothels flourished, the drug scene was no laughing matter as movies like the French Connection attest.  The scene was mild compared to what it would become after Stonewall and the invasion of what New Yorkers called Eurotrash into the seventies and eighties.  The degenerate behavior was called ‘partying.’   As the saying goes:  they really did kick out the jams.
Still the early sixties was bad enough that the city authorized the police to clean up the Village for the ’64 World’s Fair so as not to offend the tourists.  So things weren’t just a little offbeat.  As I said, by ’66 the more destructive aspects of drug use was beginning to tell.  It’s not that people were beginning to lose self-control, Andy’s emotions, they had forgotten what controls were.  A process of devolution was in effect that would be recognized by the 70’s rock band, Devo.  They asked the musical question, echoing the refrain of the vivisected beasts on H.G. Wells’ Island Of Dr. Moreau, Are We Not Men?  the band Devo’s answer was no, we are not evolving we are devolving.  But, the country had a seemingly infinite capacity to assimilate any kind of outrageous behavior without making any move to correct it.  A moral paralysis had set in.  Everyone joined it, the money men would loot the entire Savings and Loan industry of every last dollar and nobody even seemed interested in who got that trillion dollars.  So what, hey?
Thus, when Andy mau-mau’d the psychiatrists in what was an unheard of way at the time without so much as a reproof the word rippled down the line and the rowdies, posing as revolutionists or whatever, sat up and took notice.  Their day had come.   The day of the locust.

Andy And Fred Hughes

In some ways the Stonewall Riot of ’69 in which the homos faced down the NYPD was an extension of Warhol’s mau-mauing the psychiatrists and from then on society had no method devised to counter it.  In reaction to this deviant and puerile behavior for which there was apparently no legal remedy a spirit of vigilantism invaded society compounding the chaos.  Dirty Harry, the lone avenger, made his appearance on the screen; Charles Bronson’s Death Wish movies captured the imagination of put upon society turning a legion of nut cakes loose.  Bomber Billy Ayers and his Weather Underground vented his and their personal frustrations on society.  But, then, society had already been corrupted.
I watched the corruption develop with Du Maurier’s sentimental Bohemianism in mind as partially seen through Maynard Krebs of the Dobie Gillis TV series and I recognized that the problems were emanating from New York but I wasn’t quick enough to see the difference between sentimental and practical Bohemianism.  Perhaps if I had read William S. Burroughs at the time I would have seen the danger more clearly.  As Dylan sang:  There’s something happening here but you don’t know what it is, do you.  He didn’t either although he may have thought he did.  Let the bodies the hit the floor.
For Warhol there must have been consequences to his insulting the psychiatrists.  When the inmates seize control there must be a reaction.  The Factory’s reputation was becoming more tarnished with every passing day.  Even Warhol tried to escape by leaving for LA  with the Velvets and then Arizona to make one of his porn movies.  Nineteen sixty-five had been the Factory’s apogee.  But as that party ended a new party was beginning but I suspect the offended psychiatrists used what influence they had to gain revenge.  When Warhol’s lease came up for renewel in 1968 the City condemned the building forcing Warhol out.  Fortunately for Andy New York was in decline with landlords walking away from unleaseable buildings.  These empty buildings created ‘squats’ which the indigents possessed as public property on ‘squatters rights.’  These empty buildings figure prominently in the movie Midnight Cowboy.
Warhol had no trouble finding other quarters.  Although an inconvenience, the forced move worked to Andy’s advantage.  Andy had already determined it was time to move on and leave the fantasy of the Silver Factory behind.  A new approach was evolving in his mind.  Fred Hughes knew there was money to be made from Andy’s reputation and he was going after it.  He should have been there when Edie was worth money.
Unfortunately at this time in mid-sixty-eight Andy’s dangerous sadistic game playing of the past rose up to haunt him in the form of Valerie Solanis.  She showed up at the new ‘White’ factory and put a bullet or two into Andy’s body.  The body hit the floor.  It was a terrible shooting.  A bullet managed to pass through nearly every organ  except the heart.  The shots from her gun actually did kill Andy.  He was legally dead for a minute and a half before the doctors got his electricity flowing again.
Nineteen sixty-eight was the year of the big revolution.  The only problem with that was that it only happened in the minds of the the so-called revolutionaries; still a change of direction did take place.  Andy departed one world and awoke in another.  He was born again.
For Edie 1966 ended her brief but glorious reign as The Girl Of The Year and began her terrifically horrorous spiral into oblivion.  Her fame would destroy her.

All The Fame Anybody Needs

Tell ’em Andy

Edie Sedgwick: Maid Of Constant Sorrow

Edie Sedgwick, Bob Dylan And Andy Warhol

by

R.E. Prindle

 

Chapter 1

Some Enchanted Evening

 

Edie and Andy

Texts:

A movie:  Factory Girl

Sedgwick, John: In My Blood: Six Generations Of Madness And Desire In An American Family, Harper Perennial, 2007

Stein, Jean: Edie: An American Biography, Pimlico, First Published 1992, 2006 Paperback edition

www.warholstars.com A comprehensive Andy Warhol site.

The sixties was a period of broken lives.  It was the heyday of the users and the used.  It was as Donovan aptly put it: The Season Of The Witch.  It was a period when all the hounds of hell were loosed.  It may be a cliche but it was both the best and worst of times.  It was during this period that Edie Sedgwick came of age.  Edie’s tragedy was that she was used rather than a user.   She was the cat’s paw of two of the greatest users of the period, Andy Warhol and Bob Dylan.  It cost her her everything including her life.

Edie was one of the Sedgwicks of Massachusetts and they were old line Americans.  If the Sedgwicks missed the Mayflower they were trolling in its wake.  Therein lay part of Edie’s charm for the two immigrant lads, Bob and Andy.   While from Massachusetts the Sedgwicks had a notable presence in New York City and Long Island.  One might say they were venerable.  J.P. Marquand who married into the family wrote his novel ‘The Late George Apley’ about them.

In Massachusetts the Sedgwick family was famous for their burial plot known as the Sedgwick Pie.  As their legend is intimately connected with the Pie it might be proper to dwell on the Pie for its flavor.  The founder of the family back then just after the first Thanksgiving was a gentleman named Theodore Sedgwick.  He was a dynast by nature.  Hence, he bought a section of the Stockbridge cemetery and had himself buried in the very middle.  Subsequent Sedgwick burials were laid feet first toward the Patriarch in round rows emanating outward like the wedges of a pie, thus the name Sedgwick Pie.  It was said that on judgment day when reveille was blown the Sedgwicks would all arise facing the founder, Theodore.  Pretty story.

Over the centuries following Theodore’s death the Sedgwicks continued to prosper there always being enough money to maintain their position.  There also arose the fantastic legend of the Sedgwick Curse, as indicated by John Sedgwick’s subtitle.  The idea was that the Sedgwicks were a weak stock and that there was an abnormal amount of madness and suicide in the family.  Considering the extent of the family I think this was a romanticized vision of themselves.  Not that there wasn’t a sort of madness and a few suicides but hardly more than in any several hundred member family over a few centuries.  Nevertheless in Edie’s generation this fatalistic notion took firm hold.   It’s almost as if the generation rose to embrace the notion.  Her biographers speak of it in awe as though the Curse of the Pharaohs had morphed into the Curse of the Sedgwicks.  Jean Stein, the author of Edie, seems entranced with it and even John Sedgwick, Edie’s younger cousin,  in his memoir seems possessed by it.  Feels he’s got it.   Slim chance for being true in my estimation.

For an inconsequential girl Edie’s life has been well examined.  There are actually several books written about or featuring her while the legacy of movies she appeared in and movies about her is fairly extensive.  Most of the early information on her life here is abstracted from Jean Stein’s biography.  Stein, herself, is accused of writing the biography in a fit of sour grapes because Warhol wouldn’t make her one of his superstars.  No matter, it is an exceptional book of its kind.

‘Edie’ is presented as an oral biography in the voice of many participants.  However as all the voices are pretty uniform it would seem as though the editor, George Plimption, is pervasively evident.  George Plimpton, otherwise a nobody, began his career as a celebrity in the sixties and the seventies by becoming a professional old line American, nearly the last of a vanishing breed.

He clowned around by trying out for various professional sports teams then writing books about the experience.  Thus he became the American Man Of Letters touted on his website and a well known celebrity who could actually measure his press releases in inches.  He and Stein put together an excellent more than readable book in their biography of Edie Sedgwick.

Edie was the daughter of Francis Sedgwick of Long Island, NY, he otherwise being known as Fuzzy.  The family left New York for Santa Barbara, California just before Edie was born so she knew nothing of New York or the East Coast.  In California she led what would seem to thave been an idyllic life.  The family lived on a 3000 acre ranch which was exhanged after oil was found on it for a much larger ranch and finally an 18,000 acre ranch where she spent her teens.  This was a functioning cattle ranch with ranch hands and the whole works.

The Sedgwicks did not attend either public or private schools being rather schooled by private teachers along with a few neighbor children.  Thus unfamiliar with the world she may have had a very diffiuclt time adjusting to real life people.  She probably did not have time to do so before she was thrown into the boiling cauldron of New York City.  Francis, or Fuzzy, was a difficult father; his children blamed him for their shortcomings while Edie said he had sexual relations with her.  She then was, or believed herself, mentally unbalanced by the time she arrived at Radcliffe to begin college.

She may very well have been unbalanced but where I grew up I didn’t know anyone who didn’t have mental problems, parents or children, and by the time of high school graduation I was literally a basket case, nearly immobile.  Yet, so far as I know, everyone got on with their lives including myself.  Seems to me everyone has to work themselves out of that hole as best they can.

Of course, drugs were becoming a definite problem by the time Edie showed up in Cambridge in the early sixties.  It one reads Raymond Chandler novels, for instance, drugs were a problem in the thirties and forties and further reading will show that they had been a problem for decades.  Most narcotics became regulated in 1910 in the US, still, new pharmaceuticals were being developed constantly and some of them including the psychedelics were not covered by narcotics laws at the time.

The first wonder drug I heard of was Miltown about 1950.  I was too young to understand but Miltown was the Valium of its time, a panacea for all forms of stress, the stressed and housewives began to line up for prescriptions.  By 1960 the list of users must have been stupendous.

Along with the barbituate downers came the uppers.  First Bennies and then amphetamines.  My first knowledge of the pervasiveness of drugs was 1956 when I wrote a high school essay on LSD.  Of course glue sniffing was endemic in high school.   Then in 1958 in the Navy was the first time I saw people ingesting bennies and heard of peyote, mescaline and the actual use of LSD.  By the early sixties I knew a lot of people who were smoking pot and popping pills but I was never a user myself.  I watched drugs put a lot of people over the edge.  In most cases they weren’t aware that they were freefalling.

So, an unsettled socially naive Edie moved into a fast, loose society in Cambridge.  While I can’t see much in her from the pictures apparently she was a sensation live, possibly influenced by her seemingly casual attitude toward sex.  I don’t know about on the East Coast but on the West Coast girls were either more circumspect or I was out of it.

Edie was picked up by a homosexual crowd and attended many fetes in that milieu.  At the same time the other folk scene, that of Boston was burgeoning with Jim Kweskin and the Jug Band, Eric Von Schmidt and Mel Lyman being the standouts.  Dylan came up to Boston at this time to meet them where, I believe, he first became acquainted with Bobby Neuwirth who was hanging out around the art and folk scene.  Certainly Edie would have come to Neuwirth’s attention at this time.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he  and Dylan discussed the ‘hot chick’ from a distance at that time.

At some time Edie became erratic enough in her parents’ eyes that they decided to commit her to an insane asylum called Silverhill near Boston.  This to me seems very extreme.  Apart from Edie’s not doing things as they saw fit I can’t find anything in her behavior to have her committed.  I mean, I’ve seen some pretty zany behavior and after drugs really got rolling in about ’67 half the population could have been put away with the other half waiting in line.

At some point you have to let your kid go while parents always have to take responsibility for their behavior at least for the first few years after they’ve left the nest until they work through those parental childhood traumas.  The Sedgwicks had the money so as long as the offspring weren’t financially out of control they at least deserved their allowance.  Edie was what would have been described as an airhead.

But then I’m sure that with the asylum experience the cure is worse than the disease.  Edie was repeatedly given electro-shock ‘therapy.’   Electro-shock ranks right up there with the pre-frontal lobotomy as the most bizarre psychiatric treatments.  Talk about Hitler and the Nazi doctors!  If the Nazis had practiced frontal lobotomies and electro-shock you can imagine the Liberal howling from the West.  It would have made the flap over Eugenics a mere whimper.

I can’t imagine what electro-shock does to the mind and nervous system.  When I was four I was playing with an open socket.  When I connected the jolt was such I lost consciousness.  Fortunately I was repelled being thrown completely across the kitchen floor where I became alert again after a few seconds but still buzzing.  Plus, I remember it as though yesterday.  Imagine being strapped down and having those volts sent coursing through your existence.  My god!  For what purpose?  That’s going to change your psychology?  It doesn’t, so why they kept at it is beyond me.

Since Edie wasn’t insane when she checked in the good doctors of Silverhill checked her out as sane.  Somewhere along the way she met some guy named Chuck Wein who believed himself to be an impresario of some sort who was going to take Edie to New York and make a star of some sort of her.  Toward the end of 1964 then Edie and Chuck showed up in Manhattan.

Edie moved in with her grandmother on the Upper East Side.  Good address.  Enviable.  She had come into an inheritance of 80,000 dollars which she proceeded to squander in six months.  In 2010 dollars that might be the equivalent of from 300,000 to 500,000 dollars.  One had to have a careless disregard for money.

In 1964 the sixties had started moving, approaching maximum velocity.  The Beatles had splashed down in January of ’64 followed by the Rolling Stones, Animals, Dave Clark Five and a host of others including Freddie And The Dreamers which was the beginning of the hip explosion as rock and roll morphed into folk rock.  It doesn’t matter who was the first with folk rock it was inevitable.  The electric bass and guitars along with better and more powerful amplifiers ever evolving  there was no other way to go.  I mean, Duane Eddy and Eddie Cochran were proto-heavy metal.  And they were exciting bands.  The music had been loosening up for several years.  Tequila by The Champs was fairly revolutionary in its day.  But then the recording companies and artists put a lot of effort into trying to astonish us with new styles and forms and frequently did, every week.  Mule Skinner Blues by the Fendermen, a folk song  was done in a folk rock style long before Bob Dylan went electric and set us all on our ear.  That song has probably never been surpassed.  Besides by 1964 the whole folk thing was passe and worn out, boring, apparently the word probably hadn’t reached Peter Seeger and that bunch in New york yet.

Each day was a new adventure where you had no idea what you would see or hear.  Andy Warhol’s soup can is a case in point.  The arrival of the Lovin’ Spoonful in Edie’s big year of ’65 was a revelation.  As far as I’m concerned, the most influential band of the era.  If Yanovsky hadn’t given up his dealer there’s no telling how far they could have gone.  From there everything accelerated to super sonic speed.  There was even a group called the Super Sonics.  Songs like Telestar.  Men even walked on the moon.  So, while the external world was racing with the moon the internal, personal world ran along at the same slow pace unable to keep up with developments.  No one knew what was going on except in their small mental space.  Thus, even while Dylan and Warhol were succeeding spectacularly in their own spheres life was racing past them making them passe while there was no way they could keep up.

In that atmosphere Edie arrived in New York City and spent her money.  And then the money was gone.  As ’65 progresseed her parents became disenchanted with her life style so they cut her allowance way back, and then, off.  But that’s getting ahead of our story.  What Chuck Wein’s plan was for turning Edie into some sort of star or celebrity isn’t clear.  She did get some modeling jobs for magazines, probably because of her name, but they were put off by her drug intake and her corresponding erratic behavior.

 

Bobby Neuwirth

Then Bobby Neuwirth, the legend goes, noticed she was in town.  by this time Neuwirth was playing Robin to Dylan’s Batman, his sidekick in other words, and he notified Dylan that ‘there was a hot new girl in town.’  In the movie Factory Girl, sometime in ’65  Neuwirth showed up at the Factory and said:  Come with me.  Someone wants to meet you.’  Edie leaves with this total stranger, who cons her into paying the fare, escorts her back stage at a Dylan performance to be introduced to the Star with whom she is dazzled.

That’s one version.  According to Jean Stein in Edie in December of ’64 Neuwirth invited her down from the Upper East Side to the Mafia club, Kettle of Fish, to meet the folk singer himself.   Edie had arrived in NYC driving a big grey Mercedes.  Her flipped out driver crashed the car so she was using a limousine service to get about.  Accordingly her limousine pulled up in front of the Kettle of Fish, Edie got out of the car, entered the bar and contact was made.  The history of her life over the next eighteen months, the Dance of Death, began.

Dylan, then, laid claim to the dazzling girl before Andy Warhol.  Edie met Andy at the film producer Lester Persky’s a few weeks later at a party in January of ’65.  Dylan and his entourage were heterosexual while Warhol, Persky and that crowd were homosexuals.  Thus Edie began to fulfill her destiny as a pawn in Dylan’s and Warhol’s games.

Chapter 2

Never Felt More Like Singin’ The Blues

 

Dylan In Polka Dots

Who were these guys Bob Dylan and Andy Warhol and what interest could they take in this uninteresting and rather dull girl.  Interestingly both men considered themselves revolutionists.  Dylan forwarded the Jewish and Underman revolutions while Warhol spearheaded the homosexual and doubled up on the Underman.  Both men came from immigrant backgrounds.  Dylan from Jewish immigrants and Warhol from Ruthenians.  Dylan was originally Robert Zimmerman and Andy Andrew Warhola.  Dylan grew up in small town Hibbing, Minnesota, Warhol in the ‘melting pot’ of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  Both developed monster grudges against American society.

At the end of ’64 both men were on the way to being of the most influential people of the second half of the twentieth century.

Dylan at twenty had come to New york with the ambition of becoming a folk singer.  Even though a not easily appreciated singer he was as close to an instantaneous success as it is possible to be.  Arriving at the beginning of 1961, at the close of ’64 when he met Edie he was an international sensation, a prolific and successful song writer.

Strangely his success was built on resentment and hatred.  The dominant characteristic of his songwriting was a rancorous bitter putting down of his society and associates.  He fairly spews hatred in such songs as Hattie Carroll, Like A Rolling Stone and Positively Fourth Street to name only a few of his diatribes.  His most prolific period would revolve around his desire for Edie Sedgwick and his detestation for his rival for her affections, Andy Warhol.

Dylan had a fixation on destroying the happiness of women.  At the time he began his pursuit of Edie he had sequestered his future wife, Sara Lownds, who he would marry in November of ’65 and who he had purloined from another man.  At the same time he was carrying on long time affairs with his first New York girl friend, Suze Rotolo and his fellow folk singer, Joan Baez.  Why this need to injure the happiness of women?

Of course I’ve read most of the important works on Dylan if not all and many of secondary importance.  Using that background, I’m going to concentrate on the movie Dylan wrote and starred in, Masked And Anonymous.  This is a very autobiographical movie showing a Dylan who had progressed little from his heyday of the mid-sixties.  Dylan believes that the journey is more important than the result so that in the various episodes he gives little symbolical vignettes of his life journey leading up to a contrived ending.  Many of the most important eipisodes and people are represented.  The promoter in the film, for instance, can be recognized as his manager Albert Grossman; the sidekick is Bobby Neuwirth etc.  I’m not going to review the movie here but Dylan gives us some insight into when and how his world went wrong.

In the movie when Jack Fate’s, Dylan’s movie alter-ego, father, who is the dictator of  ‘this god-forsaken country’, lies dieing, Fate revisits him on his death bed.  In fact that is where the ‘path’ of the movie actually leads.  Fate reminisces about his relation with father and mother.  To put it succinctly let me quote the lyrics of an old song, Freight Train Blues.  Dylan would rewrite the lyrics to this song and claim it as his own:

I was born in Dixie

In a boomer’s shack,

Just a half a mile

From the railroad tracks.

 

My daddy was a fireman

And my mama dear,

She was the only daughter

Of an engineer.

 

She could spend the money

And that ain’t no joke,

It’s a shame the way

She kept a good man broke.

Well, Jack Fate’s daddy wasn’t much better and the movie couple had an unhappy marriage which probably reflects Dylan’s view of his own parents.  As to his mother she just found Jack in the way and wished she never had him because it interfered with her happiness.  I suspect that more or less sums up Dylan’s relationship with his mother.  One can’t say for sure but I suspect that when his mother conveyed this attitude to the young Dylan it just shattered his mind and from that day forth he was one lost soul on the lost highway with the freight train blues.  Now, it is impossible to avenge oneself on one’s mother directly as mother’s are sacred as the vessel of your life.  Dylan never tried, even escorting his mother as a date to major events.  You can take it out on yourself by becoming a derelict yourself which Dylan did thereby punishing your mother or you can take it out on surrogate women.  Dylan did both.  He himself was and has been a heavy drug user and a heavy drinker.  He ruined the lives of several women including Rotolo, Baez and Edie; then, after making Sara a wife and mother, most importantly a mother,  he completely shattered her life as his mother had his.  That may have satisfied him, then again, maybe not.  Since then he has been wandering aimlessly as a ‘modern troubadour.’  Ramblin’ Jack Fate.

The period of the sixties was Dylan’s time of most intense reaction.   After that he waxed and waned but Andy Warhol was focused on an unwavering need for vengeance.  He knew how to use people to obtain his goals without actually exposing himself.  He arrived in New York in 1950 as a graphic artist where he too was an instantaneous success.  He made his mark in shoe ads where his drawing, usually described as ‘fey’, but displaying real genius at the same time, brought the customers to Miller Shoes for whom he drew.

During the fifties he was a very highly paid commercial artist designing everything from his shoe ads to stationery to book and record covers.  Usually very nice but not infrequently letting his sexual proclivities shine through.  He was alwa;ys pushing the homosexual agenda preferring to associate his work with writers or musicians from either the Undermen or those writing on those themes.

About 1960 he decided to tackle the fine arts with the purpose of detroying them.  He entered the world of painters at the transition from Abstract Expressionism to Pop Art.  He had always been a sort of pop artist with his shoe ads so he was an incrdible success as a pop artist when he painted Campbell’s soup cans.  With the soup cans he effected one of the most instantaneous and successful revolutions or transitions from one style to another, ever.  I don’t think it would be out of line to say the sixties were born in that moment.  If there is one single symbol that characterizes the sixties, for me at least, it is Andy’s soup cans.  Tomato soup can.  It enraged and energized so many people.  It has been an inspiration for me.

I can’t remember when I first saw it but I was simply stunned.  Perhaps in the pages of Time Magazine.    I don’t know whether the copying of a soup can is art but as I mused about it I came to the conclusion that the can was a sort of urban landscape.  It was something one gazed at frequently while grocery shopping, so I said, what difference did it make whether one copied a mountain or curling wave or a soup can.  I suppose the difference is that a soup can can only be done once before the joke is stale.

My favorite image of the soup can was a poster in which a soup can had a gaping hole from being blasted with a .45 automatic.  That sort of settled the arguement for me but that was as late as 1968.  Andy went on attempting to outrage us by painting duplicates of Brillo boxes and such like, Heinz Bean cans, but that fell flat.  The joke had been made, there was only one Campbell soup image.

Painting all those soup cans, he did all the varieties, must have been a tedious way to while away the time.  Then he discovered silk screening.  What a good idea.  Warhol, the child of industrial processes. I can only imagine that he thought Henry Ford and his assembly line turning out identical copies of cars was the ideal expression of art.  After all you can make a million cars, same model and make, but in painting a picture, prior to Warhol, they all had been one offs and then you needed another idea.  In that period of rapid change an idea became obsolete immediately.  Coming up with new ideas was a tough business.  Warhol could turn out an idea like the Presleys like Henry Ford turned out cars.  Wow!  Man!  The future of art had arrived.

 

Gerard Malanga

Perhaps he thought up silk screening or perhaps the idea was suggested to him by his assistant, Gerard Malanga.  Malanga thinks that’s the way it was.  At the time he was hired Malanga was already an accomplished silk screener.  Malanga was the beginning of Warhol’s actual use, consumption and discarding of people.  One might say Malanga was exploited.

Malanga took a job with Andy at the minimum wage above which Andy never raised him.  Malanga insists that he was essentially a collaborator of Warhol’s.  I am inclined to agree with him.  In the first place Andy never drew his own pictures.  He essentially had no ideas.  He had his screens made up from photos of others he found attractive.  His famous flower screen was from a purloined photo.  HIs Elvis paintings, posters actually, were traced from a promotional still.  To me that strengthens Malanga’s claim.  The screens were mechanically produced and screening is a mechanical act.  Both Malanga and Warhol manipulated the screens together.  There are films showing them doing it.

Between the two of them they produced fifty Presley images in an afternoon.  For a show at LA’s Ferus Gallery Andy shipped them a two

Malanga and Dylan

hundred foot roll of Presleys and told them to cut up the roll as they saw fit.  Collaboration was just Andy’s way.  Hence one has single, double, triple, quadruple and octuple Presleys.  I saw one display where there were twenty or more strung out for a couple hundred feet in one immense string.   Enough Elvis Presleys to go around the world three or four times were produced.  (That’s a joke, son.)

It is a good image although Andy never asked Presley or his studio for permission to use it and as far as I know never gave them a dime.  He just appropriated the image.  I can’t imagine how Andy kept the Colonel cool.  He didn’t keep the flower lady cool, once she recognized her image she sued him.  Of course, she took her image from God but God didn’t sue her.

 

Warhol and Malanga

Now, all this silk screening takes up a bit of space, these Presleys kept getting bigger and bigger, life size and then some.  Some were twenty-five feet by twenty-five.  So Andy outgrew his home facility leaving it to seek much bigger spaces.  If one thinks about it all this is very daring.  There was no artist in New York even approaching the concept.  Finally he rented an entire floor of a building on 47th Street that became known as the Factory.  Dylan would characterize it as Desolation Row.  When Edie made her appearance there in March of ’65 it was at that Factory.  There were subsequent and even larger ones.

This is where Dylan and Warhol stood at the beginning of 1965 when Edie became a pawn in their game.  Why did they want her?  As noted, the two were immigrants or the sons of immigrants so they knew the discomforts of being strangers in a strange land.  They knew the sense of inferiority among the ‘natives.’   They knew what being outsiders was especially as Dylan was a Jew and Warhol a homosexual.

Edie Sedgwick was a symbol of that envy and desire.  In a way she was the acme of the old line American and she was accessible.  She probably could have been half ugly and it wouldn’t have made much difference.

 

Malanga and Edie

From, say, 1870 to 1940 there was native America and there was immigrant America and they were separate but equal size.  While intelligent immigrants never had it rough there was still resentment and outright hatred for Anglo-America.  All this anti-America stuff comes from the immigrants or at least was fostered by them.   With those of the Undermen, those of low IQ, the hatret was worse.  WWII gave the immigrants a feeling of equality.  They fought too.  By 1950 they were superior in numbers assaulting every Anglo tradition and trashing it while doing their best to lower Anglos.  Of course, the Anglos were too stupid to see it or unwilling to acknowledge it.  After all, this was the magic ‘melting pot’ in which all resentments disappeared.  Americans had discovered the solution to world problems.  Both Dylan and Warhol shared in this resentment.

Thus when this female symhol of the old Anglo aristocracy appeared who they held responsible for their humilaition, whether they acknowledged it or not, they wanted to possess her, humiliate and destroy her.  Dylan today would deny it while Warhol’s excuse at the time was ‘How do you stop someone from doing what they want to do?’  Well, Andy, at least you don’t hand them the revolver cocked and loaded.  That Edie was humiliated and destroyed by her association with the two is proof enough of their intent.

The problem is to piece together the  events of that year and a half over ’65 and ’66 from less than adequate documentation.  I think I can produce a reasonable facsimle.

 

Chaps. 3, 4 and 5 are posted

Chaps. 6, 7 and 8 are posted

Chaps. 9, 10, 11 and 12 are posted