BPC Books 2024: Dialectical Butterflies, King Mob, Helen Macfarlane

20 March 2024 –

BPC Publications (London) announces release of two titles this week in the WisEbooks Series, compiled by, and featuring, Dave Wise and Stuart Wise, founders of King Mob.

Dialectical Butterflies

Ecocide, Extinction Rebellion, Greenwash and Rewilding the Commons – an Illustrated Dérive

Dave and Stuart Wise

This is published as an ebook because its 80 colour photographs would be too costly to print.

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Beautifully illustrated, Dialectical Butterflies is a psychogeographical exercise in butterfly preservation as part of the environmentalist, anti-capitalist struggle against ecocide, The lifelong fascination of David Wise and his late twin, Stuart, with the ecology of butterflies goes back to their involvement in the mid-1960s surrealist-inspired radical arts scene in Newcastle. From their contact with the Situationist International the Wise brothers adopted the concept of ‘recuperation’ which they see exemplified in today’s ‘greenwashing’ PR exercises. Their latter-day rewilding campaign is effectively a post-situationist Longue Dérive through the relatively forsaken terrains of derelict industrial sites and zones of autonomy in northern England; as well as the contested public space of Wormwood Scrubs in London.

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Lost Texts Around King Mob 1968-72, published as an ebook in January 2024, is now by popular demand available as a paperback.

King Mob was initially a coming together in London of members of the English section of the Situationist InternationaI and like-minded individuals from Newcastle associated with the anti-art magazine, Icteric, and the Black Hand Gang.

Following Guy Debord’s expulsion of the English members of the SI in December 1967, the King Mob Echo was co-founded in April 1968 by former SI member, Chris Gray and ‘friends from the north’, Dave and Stuart Wise.

The material in this collection by King Mob writers and their associates still has a power to provocatively invigorate and open up new directions of thought and action emanating from a subversive critique of culture. For the most part, these documents have been forgotten and therefore never archived in the libraries of art history and the ‘popsicle academy’ of media/music studies. Indeed, they had to be rescued from what Marx called “the gnawing criticism of the mice”.

Contents

  • Dave Wise and Stuart Wise (King Mob), Introduction: By way of an explanation…
  • Ronald Hunt (Newcastle-based art historian), The Arts in Our Time: A Working Definition; The Great Communications Breakdown, (1968)
  • Dave Wise and Stuart Wise, Culture and Revolution (1968)
  • John Barker (Angry Brigade) Art+Politics = Revolution (1968)
  • Fred Vermorel, (music writer who collaborated with Malcolm McClaren in formulating Punk Rock), The Rewards of Punishment and On Whom Can the Workers Count? (1970)
  • Chris Gray (Situationist) and Dave Wise, Balls! (1970)
  • Phil Meyler (Dublin associate of King Mob), The Gurriers (1968) and Notes from the Survivors of the Late King Red (1972)

The book is dedicated to Stuart Wise, 1943-2021

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Red Antigone: The Life and World of Helen Macfarlane 1818-60  – Chartist Journalist, Feminist Revolutionary and Translator of the Communist Manifesto
By David Black

Paperback (110 pages) – March 2024

Amazon Link

From Everyone has a favourite Chartist by Stephen Roberts, Chartism and the Chartists 2016

The Marxist historian David Black certainly has a favourite Chartist who he can’t shake off. That Chartist is Helen Macfarlane, who contributed to the Chartist press for just one year, 1850. Black has just released a collection of Helen Macfarlane’s journalism (Helen Macfarlane: Red Republican, 2014). This isn’t his first book about this undeniably interesting figure. And it won’t be his last. A full-length biography is under way. What we have for now, though, is an anthology of Macfarlane’s writings for Julian Harney’s journals, the Democratic Review (April-September 1850) and the Red Republican (June-November 1850). Reprints of these journals appeared in the 1960s, but aren’t that easy to find these days. So Black has done those who want to read Macfarlane’s contributions a favour. And they are so much easier to read than the original columns (Black thanks Keith Fisher who undertook the laborious task of typing them out). Be in no doubt, Black is a fan … ‘her words jumped off the page at me’, he writes, ‘no one had ever before written like this in the English language’

So who was Helen Macfarlane? She was undeniably a remarkable woman. Born into a well-to-do Glasgow family of calico-printers, she became a governess after the family business was ruined in 1842. She appears to have been radicalized whilst living in Vienna in 1848 &, back to London, came into the orbit of Marx. She translated the Communist Manifesto & sent her own political writings to Harney for publication. Black is certainly right about the quality of her work. What Macfarlane wrote is a cut above a lot of the material that appeared in late Chartist journals. Read ‘Fine Words (Household or Otherwise) Butter No Parsnips’ (reptd. here pp. 53-8) and you’ll see what I mean…

This is a fascinating story & certainly whets the appetite for the full-length biography Black promises.

AND HERE IT IS

Amazon Link

Red Antigone is also available as an Ebook – March 2024

The first title issued in the Red Antigone Series, this is the first biography of Helen Macfarlane, Scottish-born feminist philosopher and shooting star of late-Chartist journalism.

Born into a family of gentrified Highland lairds who moved to Glasgow and became rich capitalists, Helen Macfarlane was a child of the Scottish Enlightenment. Educated by the males in her family, she went further than any of them in her radicalism. Key sections of the Communist Manifesto, which she translated, explained for her how capitalist development led to disruption, such as the bankruptcy of the Macfarlane calico business, and unemployment and poverty for masses of workers. Red Antigone is also the saga of her ‘clan’ – of found and lost riches, and risky adventure, and tragedy – and its, at times, conflictual relationship with her revolutionary politics.  Alone amongst British radicals, her interpretation of ‘continental socialism’ was based as much on her understanding of Hegel as on her involvement in the 1848 Revolutions. Marx praised her as an ‘original’ and a ‘rara avis’.

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The second title in the Red Antigone Series, is:

Red Chartist

The Complete Annotated Works ofHelen Macfarlane and her Translation of Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto

(as published in the Chartist periodicals, The Democrat Review of British and Foreign Politics, History and Literature, the Red Republican, the Friend of the People, and Reynolds News.)

Amazon Link. This title is a paperback, NOT available as an ebook. The content can found, however, in the following book published by Unkant in 2014, now re-issued by BPC as an ebook print replica.

Red Republican

The Complete Annotated Works ofHelen Macfarlane and her Translation of Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto by KarlMarx

Amazon Link

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1839: The Chartist Insurrection

David Black and Chris Ford (with a foreword by John McDonnell MP), originally published as a paperback by the late and lamented Unkant Publishing, London in 2012, has now been re-issued by BPC Publishing as a KDP Ebook.

REVIEWS of 1839

Ben Watson, blurb-on-the back:

‘In retrieving the suppressed history of the Chartist Insurrection, David Black and Chris Ford have produced a revolutionary handbook.’

Dan La Botz, New Politics

Black and Ford have written a fast-paced, narrative history of the 1839 Insurrection, filled with thumbnail sketches of the Chartist movement’s major figures, descriptions of the most important Chartist organizations and their politics in brief, excerpts from contemporary speeches, and parliamentary debates, and wonderful descriptions of the movement’s rise, growth, and spread throughout Britain. All of this is based on the most masterful command of the sources: newspapers, parliamentary records, memoirs, private papers, and all of the secondary literature. They tell their story in the most straightforward way but at a breathtaking clip that contributes to the sense of the excitement of the movement and its culmination in the insurrection.”

Stephen Roberts, People’s Charter

I read this book in one sitting as I sheltered from the pouring rain at Bodnant Gardens in North Wales. Based on a wide range of secondary sources and easy to read, it provided a welcome way of spending a few hours whilst waiting for the weather to clear (it didn’t!). The authors tell the story of a year when they assert the conditions for a working class revolution existed. Their account, almost entirely based on such secondary sources as the studies of the Newport Rising by David Jones and Ivor Wilks (but noticeably omitting recent books by Malcolm Chase and Paul Pickering) cannot be said to add to the scholarship, but is full of vigour and engagement. Black and Ford see Chartism in 1839 as ‘a mass working class democratic movement with revolutionary and socialist tendencies’. So this is very much a political account from an avowedly Marxist stance. For the authors a hero of the Chartist story emerges … George Julian Harney. And rightly so: Harney should be a hero to us all.”

R. Reddebrek, Goodreads

A very detailed and readable account of the early Chartist movement, its origins the personalities that came to dominate it and the events that spurred it on to physical force demonstrations culminating in the attempted insurrection in Southern Wales. It also comes with two appendixes that add further context to the time and give a voice to some of the Chartist leaders.

Sharon Borthwick, Unkant Blog, June 26, 2012

This was an exciting time… Dave Black and Chris Ford bring this time alive with this thoroughly researched book which includes many first hand accounts of meetings, battles and the colourful protagonists, many of who fully supported ‘ulterior measures’ in other words arming themselves, should parliament reject the petition for universal male suffrage which really they knew was a foregone conclusion…

This is a period soaked both in romance and horror and our heroes are both romantic and practical. The young George Julian Harney is just 21 when he joins the National Union of the Working Classes. He has been schooled on The Pilgrims Progress, Robinson Crusoe, The Castle of Otranto and the Sorrows of Young Werther. He sports a Jacobean red cap, which he likes to pass onto the heads of pretty young women who favour him with their singing binnies. He was a dogged agitator who travelled extensively to spread the Chartist message…

The momentum is all towards the final battles of 1839 when thousands are amassing in Wales and the North. Harney is finally furious with London as in the North strikes had begun, Manchester succeeding in closing 12 mills, the colliers of Northumberland downing tools. In Newport 6,000 men marched on Westgate but their leader has fled.

Some have lost their lives and many are imprisoned. Dr William Price escapes to Paris where he hangs out with the poet Heinrich Heine. We get glimpses of other characters. We don’t know much about him but that there was a £100 reward on his head, but we are glad that Dai the Tinker has escaped.

James Heartfield, Spiked Online, June 2012

David Black and Chris Ford’s account of the Chartist uprising of 1839 is also written in part to save these agitators from the condescending judgement of an Althusserian, in this case Gareth Stedman-Jones, whose ‘fear of agency’ cannot recognise Chartism’s self-conscious attempt to overthrow ‘old Corruption’. 1839: The Chartist Insurrection is altogether a more rewarding read than Rancière’s for its unapologetic focus on people who are making their own history. Black and Ford make the case that the earlier 1839 uprising came closer to overthrowing the existing order than the later challenge of 1848. They situate the movement in the disappointment of the Reform Act of 1832 that gave the vote to middle- class property owners, but not to the working men who protested alongside them.

Black and Ford make a good case that, though the technology they worked with was not for the most part industrial, the core of the Chartist movement was much more than an outgrowth of radicalism. Of course, it was true that their Charter was a series of democratic demands – adult male suffrage, annual elections, paid Members of Parliament. On the other hand, popular among them was Gracchus Babeuf’s argument that the democratic revolutions in America and France left ‘the institutions of property’ intact as ‘germs of the social evil to ripen in the womb of time’. The common ambition among the Welsh miners that the owners be made to work their own mines tells us that their struggle for democracy was indeed mixed up with a class struggle between owners and hands.

As the authors show, the movement argued hard about how far it should go if its great petition, the Charter, on presentation to parliament, should be refused – as it was. The Chartist Convention, a national organisation with elected delegates, debated the use of ‘Ulterior Measures’ in that case.

George Julian Harney – anticipating modern Sinn Fein’s slogan ‘an armalite in one hand and a ballot paper in the other’ by 150 years – called on his audience to carry ‘a musket in one hand and a petition in the other’. Threatened with prosecution, many in the audience testified that he had in fact said ‘a biscuit in one hand…’. Arguing for the Ulterior Measures, Feargus O’Connor promised that ‘it would be a war of capital against labour, and capitalists would soon find out that labour was the only real capital in the world’.

Still, Black and Ford do not flatter the Chartists unduly, nor make them into cartoon heroes. All the weaknesses of the organisation are confronted here. Throughout the summer of 1839, there were a number of protests in towns across the north of England, notably Newcastle, and in Wales and Scotland, while many smaller groups took up the call to arm themselves. The planned general strike, or sacred month, though, was poorly executed and patchily observed. In some confusion and disarray, the Convention voted to dissolve itself after a number of setbacks.

As it turned out, the leaders’ retreat only opened the floodgates of a movement that was determined to fight on. Black and Ford tell the story of General Napier, who led the militia against the Chartists, though he was himself sympathetic to their cause, if not their methods. On 6 August 1839, Napier wrote: ‘The plot thickens. Meetings increase and are so violent, and arms so abound, I know not what to think. The Duke of Portland tells me that there is no doubt of an intended general rising.’ But Napier’s judgement is compelling: ‘Fools! We have the physical force, not they.’

Black and Ford tell a heartwrenching story of attempted insurrections in Bradford, Newcastle and, most pointedly, in Newport in south Wales, where the movement came to a head. The insurrection was led by the tragic figure of John Frost, who himself was hoping to dampen the movement down, explaining at his trial that ‘so far from leading the working men of south Wales, it was they who led me, they asked me to go with them, and I was not disposed to throw them aside’. Though the Chartists did succeed in taking the streets and the Westgate, their superior numbers were not enough to beat the special constabulary’s better organisation.

All over England, there were risings that failed to meet up, followed by suppression of the movement and a witch-hunt of the organisers. Some escaped, like Devyr, while John Frost was caught and tried – and would have been hanged but that the sentence was commuted to transportation (itself a sign that the authorities feared worse if they killed him). George Julian Harney concluded that ‘organisation is the next thing to be looked into.’

Adam Buick, Socialist Standard, September 2012

The insurrectionary element in the Chartist movement has fascinated left-wing historians who see in it a frustrated revolutionary potential from which a modern vanguard can learn lessons.

Adding to this literature is a new history of the Chartist insurrectionaries of 1839 by David Black and Chris Ford (1839 –The Chartist Insurrection, London, Unkant Publishing, 2012, £10.99). It is a compelling read, telling the story of Chartism through the experiences of George Julian Harney and other ‘firebrand’ Chartist leaders such as Dr. John Taylor and examining the ill-fated Newport Rising of 1839. The authors provide a vivid account of the revolutionary potential that had built up in Britain by the late 1830s, culminating in the aborted rising at Newport in which several Chartists were killed.,

The authors seem disappointed at what they see as the paucity of revolutionary leadership within the Chartist movement. The proposed general strike in support of the Charter is regarded as a failed revolutionary opportunity because Feargus O’Connor refused to see it as a chance for the “revolutionary seizure of power.” Black and Ford argue that “the strike had an inexorable revolutionary logic: with no strike fund to draw on, the people would have to violate bourgeois property rights in order to eat” (pp.88-9). But most Chartists did not want a revolutionary seizure of power; they wanted an extension of the vote backed by the threat that if it was not granted then ‘force’might follow. Chartist leaders such as O’Connor did not want a showdown with the state via a general strike because he knew that the likely consequence would be defeat.,,

The authors suggest that Chartism was neither the tail end of radicalism nor the forerunner of socialism. But it contained plenty of the old in with the new. In their words, “In 1839 the ideas of Thomas Paine stood in dialogue with the socialistic ideas of Thomas Spence, Robert Owen,“`

Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD (New Edition) 

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A short ‘video of the book’ on Youtube

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LSD UNDERGROUND: Operation Julie, the Microdot Gang and the Brotherhood of Eternal Love by David Black PAPERBACK – 21 Mar. 2022

 

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Timothy Leary’s Reality Tunnels

Another serialised extract from Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD by David Black (Amazon. Also on Kindle: HERE)

11/12/23

Armed Love

In January 1970 an Orange County judge handed Leary a ludicrous sentence totalling 20 years for two minor marijuana offences. As Leary’s friends organised a defence campaign, the Brotherhood of Eternal Love paid the Weather Underground $25,000 to soring him; a task made much easier by his transfer from Fulsom Prison to the minimum security establishment at San Luis Obispo.

In September 1970, Leary, according to his own account, took his life in his hands and climbed along forty yards of telephone cable which ran twenty feet-high from the prison roof to a telegraph pole on the outside. Leary was picked up on a nearby highway by Weatherman, Clayton Van Lydegraf. A former first lieutenant pilot in World War Two. Van Lydegraf was a veteran Stalinist who never had any time for the hippie counterculture or LSD. He told Leary, ‘I was against this whole thing from the start. If it were up to me you’d still be rotting in jail’. Presumably, Van Lydegraf was given the job of getaway driver precisely because he didn’t look or talk like a hippie. After few changes of cars and drivers Leary was taken to meet up with the group’s leaders, Bernadine Dohrn, Bill Ayers and Mark Rudd. The success of this first part of the mission was celebrated with an LSD tripping session.

The second part of the operation was to spirit Leary and his wife, Rosemary, out of the US and on to Algiers, where they were to hook up with Eldridge Cleaver, an exiled leader of the Black Panther Party. The FLN government in Algiers was at the time hospitable to an array of revolutionary exiles from across the world. Leary had always been anti-racist, but had never, until now, identified with revolutionary politics, especially armed-struggle politics. What had changed him? One factor was the influence of his wife, Rosemary who, much more than Tim, was a ‘natural’ radical, well connected with the more ‘extreme’ elements of American leftism. When planning to spring Tim from his prison she got him to approve the use of firearms by the rescue team that was being assembled. Another factor was the constant supply of LSD smuggled into prison by Rosemary. According to biographer, John Higgs:

By using LSD in prison he imprinted a new reality, and replaced his old beliefs with an outlook that made him better adapted to survive in his new environment… Tim had spent years talking about reprogramming the mind in just this way, yet when he did what he had described, his audience was bewildered… Tim had simply, to use his own jargon, rebuilt his ‘reality tunnel’.

Leary, facing decades behind bars, had come to believe that Rosemary and the revolutionaries were his only hope for freedom. Therefore his natural pacifism was put into suspension for the duration. Like any actor playing the good guy, Leary had a mission to fulfil in the cosmic drama: to promote solidarity and co-operation between the hippie counterculture and the Black Revolution.

Leary alienated many of his old friends after he appeared to buy the Weather Underground’s skyed-out politics and issued a statement from hiding that, ‘To shoot a genocidal robot policeman in defence of life is a sacred act’. Ken Kesey, the old Electric-Koolaid-Acid-Tester, published an open letter in response which pleaded more in sorrow than in anger: ‘Oh my good doctor, we don’t need one more nut with a gun’.

Leary, however, was doing revolution politics as a game. This is clear from an interview he did with Paul Krasner twenty years later:

Krasner: ..when you escaped from prison, you said, ‘Arm yourselves and shoot to live. To shoot a genocidal robot policeman in defence of life is a sacred act.’

Leary: Yeah! I also said ‘I’m armed and dangerous’. I got that directly from Angela Davis. I thought it was funny to say that.

Krasner: I thought it was the party line from the Weather Underground.

Leary: Well, yeah. I had a lot of arguments with Bernadine Dohrn,

Krasner: They had their own rhetoric. She even praised Charles Manson.

Leary: The Weather Underground were amusing, They were brilliant, Jewish, Chicago kids. They had class and dash and flash and smash. Bernadine was praising Manson for sticking a fork in a victim’s stomach. She was just being naughty.’

Alice in AlgiersFrom Cleaver to Crowley

With fake passports, Leary and his wife, Rosemary, slipped out of America in disguise and flew to Algeria to meet Eldridge Cleaver. Cleaver had joined the Black Panther Party after serving an eight year sentence in San Quentin prison for rape and attempted murder. Released in 1966, Cleaver became a journalist for Ramparts and served as Minister of Information of the Black Panther Party. In 1968 he led an ambush of Oakland police officers in which two officers were wounded and 17-year-old Panther Bobby Hutton was shot to death by police after surrendering.

Cleaver fled to Cuba, where he was at first welcomed by the communist authorities. However, when he was joined by Clinton Smith and Byron Booth, who had hijacked a plane from California and flown to Cuba, the hospitality cooled. Fidel Castro, not wanting his island to become a haven for plane-hijackers with dubious (possibly CIA) connections, packed the three of them off to Algeria. As other Black Panther exiles began to congregate in Algiers, Cleaver asked the FLN government of Algeria to provide the US Black Panthers with an ’embassy’. This request was granted shortly before the Learys’ arrival there.

Cleaver  was impressed by Nixon’s naming of Leary as ‘the most dangerous man in America’. Leary describes his first meeting with Cleaver at a villa in Algiers, which had been provided by the FLN government:

‘Eldridge greeted us warmly at the gate, recognising that our presence meant more cards in his hand. As Rosemary and I sat uneasily in the haute bourgeois French-provincial living room, Cleaver laid out his plan. He would obtain political asylum for us from the Algerians. Then we’d set up an American government in exile. The Algerians had already recognized the Panthers as the American Liberation Front and ultimately we could swing the entire Third World behind our cause.

I suggested that we could represent the non-political counter-culture forces of America. We’d invite dissident groups, draft resisters, anti-war activists, hippies, Weathermen, rock stars, beatniks, bohemians, poets. I agreed that we should form a highly visible, alternative government to the Nixon regime. There was no question that, if we could get a base operating, many counter-culture people would come by to visit. The most effective tactic would be to operate a media centre. If the Algerians will let us set up broadcast facilities, we can start a Radio Free America that would beam over to Europe and the armed forces bases. We could win the respect of the youth and the liberals and the anti-war people in Europe… [for] a popular front of the large majority of Americans who want a peaceful, friendly, prosperous world.’

Leary’s sentiments were received politely but with sceptical bemusement. Cleaver saw no future for any kind popular front, least of all one composed of the people Leary had in mind. When Leary began receiving visitors – old friends, revolutionary tourists, psychedelic pilgrims and journalists – Cleaver complained that the journalists tended to relegate the Panthers’ revolutionary politics to the colourful backdrop of the story of Leary’s prison escape. Anita Hoffman of the Yippies recalled,

‘…I revolted against Cleaver’s dictatorial rule, but was surprised to find I had no allies among the obedient lefties I was travelling with. So I escaped by climbing out of window and talking my way out at customs at the airport. Since the Panthers were guests of the Algerians, the Algerians wanted the Panthers’ approval to let me leave. But at that point they didn’t know I was gone.’

Cleaver assured the Algerian government that he could control Leary’s drug use and bouts of ‘nonsensical political eloquence’. First, Cleaver got Leary to participate in a film for the Panthers aimed at a US audience. Cleaver wanted Leary to publicly renounce drugs as a distraction from building armed resistance to US imperialism. Leary was diplomatic rather than apologetic:

If taking any drug postpones for ten minutes the revolution, the liberation of our sisters and brothers, our comrades, then taking drugs must be postponed for ten minutes … However, if one hundred FBI agents agreed to take LSD, thirty would certainly drop out.

Leary was still committed to fulfilling his promises to the Weather Underground. Now that the escape from prison and flight into exile had been accomplished, it was time for the third part of the mission: to organise a tripping session with Eldridge Cleaver, in the hope that he would became less insular and sectarian; and embrace unity between Black Revolutionaries and hippie radicals such the Weather Underground. Cleaver had actually tripped on LSD with Yippie leaders Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman in Berkeley back in 1968. They had failed to change Cleaver’s thinking, but Leary thought it was still worth trying to do so. As he had a good supply of LSD smuggled to him in Algiers, he suggested to Cleaver that they trip together, and Cleaver agreed. The session however, simply aggravated Cleaver’s paranoia, and plunged him into a mood of pessimism.

Cleaver, wishing to assure the Algerian government that he was hosting a real anti-imperialist revolutionary, rather than a white American drugs fiend, sent Leary on a Panther-led delegation to the PLO training camps in the Levant. The delegation consisted of Leary, Donald Cox of the Black Panther party, Panther fundraiser Martin Kenner, and Bernadine Dohrn’s sister, Jennifer, who represented a sort of ‘political wing’ of the Weather Underground. The idea was to have Leary appear before the world media at a PLO camp in Jordan alongside Fatah guerrillas, Black Panthers and white American sympathisers. However, when they arrived in Beirut via Cairo they found themselves besieged at their hotel and followed everywhere by the Western press, who had been tipped off about their arrival. The plan to visit Fatah training camps in Jordan and Syria had to be abandoned when the Lebanese government, under US diplomatic pressure, sent a police squad to escort them to the airport.

Leary and party returned to Cairo. According to Cleaver’s then collaborator Elaine Mokhtefi, Leary became ‘paranoid and hysterical… uncontrollable… scaling walls, hiding behind buildings, raising his arms and screaming in the streets’. The Algerian ambassador to Egypt put them on a plane back to Algiers. On their return Leary and Rosemary began partying with LSD at the desert oasis of Bou-Saada, much to Cleaver’s disapproval. Having recently returned from a conference in North Korea, Cleaver had become a devotee of Kim Il Sung. He now believed that the Panther strategy of uniting with white radicals of the psychedelic counterculture had been mistaken. And it was not just white hippies that Cleaver wanted to disassociate his movement from. In Leary’s words, ‘Eldridge invented himself a security crisis. Like Nixon, like Brezhnev’:

Everything the Panthers did was in the name of security. We were constantly lectured on the precariousness of our situation; American police were after us. All Algerians were racists. The town was crawling with enemies. Our foes were multiplying. The other national liberation fronts turned out to be racist too and riddled with double agents. Even our American allies became deadly rivals one-by-one: Angela Davis, Huey Newton, Stokeley Carmichael – all running-dog lackeys of imperialism.

A top-secret CIA operation had been set up after Cleaver’s arrival in Algiers in 1969. The CIA, as later revealed by Seymour Hersh in the New York Times, had recruited Black Americans to spy on members of the Black Panther Party both in the United States and in Africa, especially Algeria. One agent gained access to the personal living quarters of Cleaver in Algeria in the late 1960’s. Another later boasted to his colleagues that he had managed to penetrate Cleaver’s Algerian headquarters ‘and sat at the table’ with him. The CIA’s aim, in the case of the Black Panthers living abroad, was to ‘neutralize’ them; ‘to try and get them in trouble with local authorities wherever they could’.

According to Leary, the problem with Cleaver was that he was ‘totally American. He doesn’t want to change the system, he just wants to run it’. On one occasion Cleaver pulled a gun on Leary and threatened to denounce him to the Algerian authorities for his activities with LSD if a sum of $10,000 was not forthcoming. On 9 January 1971, Cleaver ‘imprisoned’ the Learys, placing them under armed guard. A CIA document dated 12 February 1971 noted:

Panther activities have recently taken some interesting turns. Eldridge Cleaver and his Algiers contingent have apparently become disenchanted with the antics of Tim Leary… Electing to call their actions protective custody, Cleaver and company, on their own authority, have put Tim and Rosemary under house arrest due most probably to Leary’s continued use of hallucinogenic drugs.

Tim and Rosemary were fearful about ever getting out of Cleaver’s personal prison. They had good reason to be. Unknown to Leary, months earlier Cleaver had shot dead his fellow exile, Clinton Smith, after accusing him of amorous intentions towards his wife, Kathleen Cleaver. Byron Booth, who witnessed the murder, helped Cleaver bury Smith’s body in the mountains and fled Algeria the next day.

Cleaver’s imprisonment of the Learys came just as a serious split in the Panthers became publically known in mid-February 1971. The California-based leadership of Huey Newton and David Hilliard wanted the party to focus on community service and avoid any armed actions beyond self-defense. Cleaver began to fear being overthrown by a coup at his own headquarters. The Learys took advantage of Cleaver’s distraction and escaped his clutches. Leary made contact with officials of the Algerian government, who told him that they themselves were unhappy about Cleaver’s activities in their country and assured the Learys that they could stay for as long as they wished.

Now under the protection of the Algerian government, Leary was visited by the English writer and dope-dealer, Brian Barritt, whose rebel status was very different from Cleaver’s. Barritt, who had been introduced to LSD by Alex Trocchi in London in the mid-1960s, was an enthusiastic student of ‘English Magick’ in the ‘tradition’ of John Dee and Alistair Crowley. He was to become Leary’s nominal co-author on the forthcoming book, Confessions of a Hope Fiend, in Switzerland, the next stop on the Leary’s journey. Leary’s archivist, Michael Horowitz, summarises Confession of a Hope Fiend as the story of his prison escape flight to exile and ‘revolutionary bust’ by the Black Panther Party leader ‘after he either won or lost the debate on the role of psychedelic drugs in the revolution’:

In Algeria, the role of Hassan-i-Sabbah – the founder of the hashishin and the first recorded person to brainwash with euphoric drugs – was not necessarily up for grabs. The Aleister Crowley persona emerged during an acid trip in the Sahara. But survival dictated another space time co-ordinate.

Hotel Abyss

In April 1971, Timothy Leary accepted an invitation to give a talk at Aarhus university in Copenhagen. Tim and Rosemary flew first to Geneva and visited his friend, Pierre Benoussan. Benoussan advised them to stay in Switzerland because he thought that if they went to Denmark, they were certain to be arrested and deported to the US. Benoussan gave them the address of Michel Hauchard, an arms dealer for the Palestinians, convicted fraudster and jailbird. Hauchard, as a gentleman rogue, told them he felt obliged to help Leary as a persecuted philosopher. He provided the Learys with a chalet at a Lake Geneva ski resort. Thanks to Hauchard’s generosity, Rosemary Leary was now able to seek the fertility treatment she needed to become pregnant. Hauchard’s largesse came with a price. Leary had to promise he would not leave Switzerland and had to sign away in advance half the royalties on the book, Confessions of a Hope Fiend. Leary had landed in the lap of luxury, and revolutionary politics was now irrelevant to him. As Higgs puts it in I Have America Surrounded: the Life Story of Timothy Leary:

‘Indeed, just three months after pledging “eternal solidarity” to the Brazilian Marxists who had escaped from jail and fled to Algiers, he found himself drinking with the Brazilian aristocrats who had jailed them in the first place. “Torture,” one of them told him, “was nothing more than an advanced form of acrobatics.” By now Tim was quite used to imprinting an entirely new worldview whenever he found himself in a different environment, but rarely was the process as effortless as this.’

Hauchard provided the Learys with a lawyer to obtain temporary Swiss residence for them. When, in June 1971, Tim was arrested by the Swiss police to face an extradition request from the US government, his lawyer got him out of prison on health grounds. In December, Leary’s appeal against extradition was upheld by the court, on condition that he would keep out of subversive politics and stay away from illegal drugs; the first was easy, the second was out of the question for Leary, who continued to take his daily doses of acid discreetly.  The downside was that the court ruled he would have to leave Switzerland before the end of the following year, 1972.

In September 1971, Leary got to meet Albert Hofmann, the discoverer of LSD. Hoffman told Leary that it was regrettable that investigations into LSD and psilocybin had ‘degenerated’ so much that continuance of psychedelic research in the academic milieu had become impossible:

‘In this conversation I further objected to the great publicity that Leary sought for his LSD and psilocybin investigations, since he had invited reporters from daily newspapers and magazines to his experiments and had mobilized radio and television. Emphasis was placed on publicity rather than objective information. Leary defended his publicity program because he felt it had been his fateful historic role to make LSD known worldwide. The overwhelming positive effects of such dissemination, above all among America’s younger generation, would make any trifling injuries or regrettable accidents as a result of improper use of LSD unimportant in comparison, a small price to pay.’

Timothy Leary and Albert Hoffman

Writer and LSD entrepreneur David Solomon travelled from England to Switzerland to see Leary and secure a role as an agent negotiating with publishers.  Another arrival in the Learys’ Swiss household was Dennis Martino, Leary’s hash-smuggling son-in-law from a previous marriage. He was wanted in the US for jumping parole, but in December 1972 made a trip to the US. This should have raised Leary’s suspicions, but didn’t.

Leary and Brian Barritt ventured into music production with German krautrockers. Barritt got Leary into heroin, until after a few weeks Leary wisely decided to quit. During this period Leary was constantly on LSD, though he was able to function rationally in his day-to-day interactions. Leary had now decided that ‘whereas the space games are survival, power and control, the corresponding time games are sex, dope and magic’.

By this time Rosemary Woodruff Leary had had enough of Tim’s new life and entourage. Rosemary took up with John Schewel, an associate of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love, and spent the next twenty years hiding out in various parts of the world.

Meanwhile the US authorities were renewing pressure on the Swiss by drumming up more charges against Leary, accusing him of being ‘the godfather of the largest drug-smuggling ring in the world’ – the Brotherhood of Eternal Love (the charges were later dropped for lack of evidence).

Leary met up with a lawyer named Carlton Smith to arrange safe passage to Austria. Liz Elliot, Brian Barritt’s partner, was to accompany Leary to assist his border crossing to Austria from Switzerland. Suddenly, she recalled, an aristocratic Englishwoman, named Joanna Harcourt-Smith, who been introduced to Leary by Hauchard, ‘inserted herself’ into Leary’s plans:

Tim was looking for a woman to take with him in order to leave. Originally it was supposed to be me who went with him… However I was dithering because I couldn’t decide between Tim and Brian Barritt (my young son thought of the latter as his dad). At this point Joanna arrived and took her opportunity. I think we were all aware she was just after Tim’s celebrity. I don’t reckon she realised the gravity of Tim’s situation enough to guide him to Afghanistan with any intention other than showing him off to people she knew there.

At the end of 1972, Tim and Joanna moved to Vienna. Joanna wanted to take Leary to Ceylon, where she had rich relatives to put them up. Then Dennis Martino arrived in Vienna. He suggested that rather than head straight for Ceylon, the three of them should go firstly to Afghanistan, where, he assured them, he had Brotherhood of Eternal Love contacts who would help them. Leary, accompanied by Joanna Harcourt-Smith and Dennis Martino arrived in Afghanistan in January 1973. In Kabul, former CIA agent Terrence Burke, now working for the US Drug Enforcement Agency, was monitoring the brothers Aman and Nasrullah Tokhi, who were supplying the Brotherhood of Eternal Love with large shipments of hash. The Afghan authorities provided Burke with copies of American travellers’ disembarkation cards, so he was warned of the impending arrival of the Learys and Martino. Burke arranged for US Embassy staff disguised as Afghan immigration officers to be on hand to confiscate Leary’s fake passport. Burke then persuaded the Afghan authorities to deport Leary. Dennis Martino, also a fugitive, struck a deal with Burke in Kabul to become an informer. Or was he one already? What is certain is that Martino, spirited back to California after Leary’s deportation from Afghanistan, arranged for at least two dozen of his dope-dealing associates of the Brotherhood to be arrested.

Eldridge Cleaver left Algeria for France in 1972 and went into hiding. He returned to the USA in 1977 a born-again Christian. After some plea-bargaining and public repentance for his political past he got away with a sentence of 1,200 hours community service for the outstanding assault charge. His Black Panther rival, Huey Newton, came out of prison in 1970. He failed to revive the party and fell into gangsterism and cocaine addiction.

Leary ‘Co-operates’

At his trial in March 1973 for the 1970 prison escape Leary was sentenced to five years imprisonment in addition to the twenty he had been serving. For management of his affairs outside of prison Leary still relied on Joanna Harcourt-Smith. In November, 1973, Leary was transferred from Folsom to Vacaville Prison. There he learned that Martino had become a government snitch and that Joanna was sleeping with him. When Allen Ginsberg met Joanna Harcourt-Smith during a prison visit, he told her he suspected she might be a ‘double agent’. In response, Joanna turned to Leary and said ‘Oh, he just hates women’. Leary simply threw up his hands in exasperation. But for Leary himself, in this latest reality tunnel informing was taking on a new meaning: Leary, in return for early release, was prepared to talk to the FBI.

According to Leary, in his autobiography, Flashbacks, the ‘Leary Turns Fink’ story, which gained wide circulation in the late seventies, was, in part at least, the product of an FBI counter-offensive aimed at blunting the revelations about the Bureau’s own illegal actions against dissidents. When a transcript of Leary’s testimony was leaked to journalist, Jack Anderson, Leary complained that it made it sound as if he was testifying against anyone who had ever offered him a joint. But the story severely damaged Leary’s reputation among his followers. Becoming a political extremist under extreme circumstances might have been understandable; but becoming a renegade fink put him beyond the pale. After the FBI milked Leary for all the information they thought they get, Leary was finally given his freedom in April 1976.

According to Leary, he only wanted to convince the FBI that people like the Weather Underground and Brotherhood of Eternal Love were really just all-American kids who had grown a little too enthusiastic about realising their ideals. Regarding his ‘motives’ for talking, Leary said that he wanted an ‘intelligent, an honourable relationship’ with Government institutions:

‘So this does not just turn someone over to get out of prison, it’s part of a longer range plan of mine… I intend to be fully active in this country in the next few years however the things turn out… I’m never going to work at it illegally ever again, but I would prefer to work constructively and collaboratively with intelligence and law enforcement people that are ready to forget the past…’

Leary did talk to the FBI about the Weather Underground and name names, but in the long run the group was not impacted by his testimony. By the mid-1970s the Weather Underground leadership had grasped the reality that they weren’t going to be able to bomb US Imperialism out of existence. Bill Ayers and Bernadine Dohrn believed they could avoid federal prosecution and lengthy prison sentences because of reluctance on the government’s part to reveal sources and methods such as illegal wire taps. Ayers and Dohrn favored a strategy of ‘surfacing’ as above ground revolutionaries. Bernadine Dohrn’s sister, Jennifer, organised an umbrella organization of radical groups which was named the Prairie Fire Committee (inspired by Mao Zedong’s polemic against ‘pessimism’: ‘A Single Spark Can Start a Prairie Fire‘).

In 1977 a pamphlet appeared entitled The Split of the Weather Underground Organization – Struggling Against White and Male Supremacy. This contained an abject ‘confession’ by Bernadine Dohrn, admitting to charges of racial and sexual chauvinism, and ‘opportunism’. An article by Clayton Van Lydegraf, ‘In Defense of Prairie Fire’, indicated that the new ‘line’ was a very orthodox Marxist-Leninism committed to supporting armed actions. But Van Lydegraf’s takeover of what was left of the Weather Underground’s military structure proved disastrous. Since 1969 the FBI had largely failed to penetrate the group, but they soon succeeded in doing so when the Bureau’s Weather hunters infiltrated a couple of undercover agents into the West Coast Weather Underground Organization as firearms instructors; one of whom actually moved in with Van Lydegraf as his housemate. In 1977, Van Lydegraf, and several Weather Underground members were arrested for plotting to bomb the offices of a California state senator and got two-year prison sentences. This essentially finished the Weather Underground. All three of the groups Leary had operated with during his 1971-73 fugitive period – the Brotherhood of Eternal Love, the Black Panthers and the Weather Underground – were broken up. In between 1970 when he escaped prison and 1976, when he was released, Leary created for himself one ‘reality tunnel’ after another: first with the Weather Underground, then with Cleaver’s Black Panthers, then with Hauchard, then finally with the FBI. As John Higgs puts it:

‘Enlightenment thinkers assumed that everyone operates in the same reality, but that, Leary believed, was not true on a practical level. Concepts, relationships and events were now relative, and could only be really understood when analysed alongside the reality tunnels that created them.’

As Leary said of his first LSD trip with Michael Hollingshead ten years earlier,

‘From that day I have never lost the sense that I am an actor, surrounded by characters, props and sets for the comic drama being written in my brain.’

Whatever importance we give to Leary’s crediting the CIA with the birth of psychedelia, it was Leary himself who gave the LSD-fuelled counterculture its character; without him it just wouldn’t have happened the way it did.

This post concludes the serialised extracts from, Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD by David Black. Paperback available from Amazon. Also as ebook on Kindle: HERE

The Downfall of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love

10/12/23

(Continuing the serialisation of Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD by David Black – available from Amazon. Also on Kindle: HERE )

In August 1970, Tim Scully dropped out of active involvement in LSD manufacturing. His chemist partner, Nick Sand, on the hand, had no intention of giving up. But the dangers were mounting. In July 1971 Richard Nixon declared the ‘War on Drugs’ and got Capitol Hill to put up an initial $84m for ‘emergency measures’. The new Narcotics Traffickers Program (NTP) coordinated a joint strike force formed by agents of the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs (BNDD) and Inland Revenue Service (IRS) to select targets. Nick Sand, on the strength of intelligence reports and his arrest records was high on the target list.

IRS agents raided the offices of Sand’s lawyer, Peter Buchanan. Crucially, Buchanan was unable to provide them with a credible explanation of how Sand made his money. A search of of his law firm’s files revealed that Buchanan had deposited Sand’s money for the $155,000 purchase of his Cloverdale ranch. Buchanan had converted large sums into cashiers’ cheques which were deposited in a bank account for which he was a trustee (Scully compares this with a cat pooping on the kitchen floor and trying to hide it by scratching the lino). Buchanan had passed the titles of land purchases to Sand’s Liechtenstein front company, Four Star Anstalt. The paperwork for this company was held by the elusive Ronald Stark.

Like Tim Scully, financier Billy Hitchcock had withdrawn from the LSD business. But his past began to catch up with him when his former Swiss bankers sued him in a US court for non-payment of money he owed them. When the Swiss brought Hitchcock’s bank records into the country, the US authorities duly scrutinised various accounts and subaccounts at the Paravicini bank, including those of Nick Sand, Owsley Bear Stanley, and Hell’s Angel, Terry ‘the Tramp’ Tracey – all of them opened using aliases.

In late-1971, Tim Scully learned he was off the hook for charges stemming from the bust of his Denver lab. Because the police hadn’t obtained a search warrant the search was ruled to have been illegal. Scully, in fact, was now going straight, developing bio-feedback instruments which could measure the electrical activity of the brain, and identify brain wave patterns associated with the peak experiences of meditation. But, in May 1972 Peter Buchanan telephoned Scully to say he had talked to the Feds in return for immunity from prosecution. The ‘good news’ was he had recommended to federal agents that they should also offer immunity to Scully and Hitchcock in order to convict Sand and Stark. When Scully told Billy Hitchcock what Buchanan had done, they both agreed not to take up Buchanan’s suggestion. Hitchcock consulted Brotherhood of Eternal Love leader, Michael Randall, who advised him, ‘Just keep quiet and everything will be fine’. Hitchcock warned Scully to stay off the radar, in case he too was subpoenaed. They both left the United States for several months to dodge possible grand jury subpoenas which would’ve left them with a choice of testifying to the grand jury or going to jail for contempt.

In June 1972, Buchanan was subpoenaed to appear as a witness before the federal Grand Jury sitting in San Francisco. As it happened, on the witness stand Buchanan did his best not to say anything too incriminating about his clients. But the prosecution drew enough information out of him for the IRS to begin investigations of Scully, Randall, Friedman and Stark.

In May 1972, a top-secret ‘war council’ was held by the BNDD and various police drug squads at a hotel in San Francisco to launch ‘Operation BEL’. It was determined that the Brotherhood of Eternal Love was a 200-strong ‘loosely-knit organisation with a core group’, and that it was responsible for an estimated 50 per cent of all LSD and marijuana sales in the US. There was a parallel investigation of the Brotherhood in Orange County, where the public prosecutor convened a meeting of the various state agencies.

According to Tendler and May’s book, The Brotherhood: From Flower Power to Hippie Mafia, a report that came out the San Francisco meeting included a chart detailing the Brotherhood’s organisational structure: it showed one arm of the organisation to be Robert Andrist’s team of twenty or so who brought in grass from Mexico and hash from Afghanistan, to be passed on to their distributors in the US. The ‘LSD arm’ stemming from Michael Randall and Nick Sand had twenty main distributors in California, Hawaii and Oregon. Brotherhood members were described as ‘mystics’ who studied the ‘religious’ philosophy of Timothy Leary. Billy Hitchcock was placed alongside Leary at the top of the organisational pyramid.

The ‘chart’ – which, strangely enough, has never been reproduced anywhere and may never have existed – served to conjure up the spectre of an organisational hybrid consisting of a dangerous cult led by Leary, the ‘spiritual’ guru, plus a mafia-style setup, in which the finances were controlled by Billy Hitchcock. Leary however, had no involvement in the Brotherhood’s decision to become the distributors of Scully and Sand’s LSD; and in no way participated in their marijuana and hash smuggling business. As for Hitchcock, he had never had any financial relationship with the Brotherhood of Eternal Love, if the Brotherhood is to be defined as the organisation founded by John Griggs, with its cadre of marijuana smugglers and distributors of LSD, etc. The gist of the elusive chart did however make it into the media: the New York Times referred to ‘Timothy Leary’s sex and drug sect, the Brotherhood of Eternal Love’.

In August 1972, an Orange County grand jury gave the green light for a series of raids in which fifty-three people were arrested at dozens of houses in California, Hawaii and Oregon. Those arrested included leading players such as John Gale and Glenn Lynd. Two and half tons of hash, thirty gallons of hash oil, and 15 million LSD tablets were seized. The Orange County District Attorney’s Office jubilantly announced that the Brotherhood of Eternal Love had been broken as an organisation and confidently predicted that Leary would soon be extradited to complement the round-up.

The raids were followed up with the release of a wanted poster featuring the mugshots of twenty-six alleged Brotherhood members, including Robert Ackerly, Hayatullah Tokri and Nick Sand. At this point the BNDD turned Brotherhood member, Glenn Lynd, who became their star witness when the Orange County grand jury sat again in November 1972. Lynd laid out the whole history of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love: from its pre-history in Anaheim to the Mystic Arts World Store, Lynd’s own travels in Afghanistan, the purchase of the Idyllwild ranch, incriminating conversations with Leary, and the arrangements with Sand and Scully for distributing Orange Sunshine LSD.

While Lynd was testifying to the grand jury, one ‘Leland Jordan’, alias Nick Sand, and Judy Shaughnessy were cooking LSD in a state-of-the-art lab in downtown St. Louis and at a smaller lab in their rented house in Fenton, Missouri. At the end of 1972, Nick and Judy went on vacation, but as they had forgotten to put a stop order on mail delivery, their mailbox overflowed. The mailman called the police when he noticed the overflowing mailbox and water leaking out from under the front door (Sand had also forgotten to put oil in their heater before going away; so as it ran out of fuel a pipe froze and broke). The police entered the premises found drugs in the upstairs bedroom and came across the laboratory in the basement. When Nick and Judy returned to Fenton they were arrested. Police claimed they had seized materials which were enough to make 14 million doses of LSD. They also found the address of the lab in St. Louis. Inconveniently for Tim Scully, the St. Louis police found an old flow-chart in his handwriting for making LSD. But fortunately for Scully, as well as for Sand and Shaughnessy, the police charges for the St. Louis bust didn’t stick, because the court later determined that the search, carried out without a warrant, was legally invalid.

In March 1972, an IRS agent interviewed Sam Goekjian at his Paris law firm regarding Stark’s ownership of a Panamanian paper company called La Hormega, which held the titles to Nick Sand’s Cloverdale ranch. In the summer of 1972 Goekjian was subpoenaed to appear before the grand jury in San Francisco. Before testifying, Goekjian attempted to contact Ron Stark repeatedly but was unable to trace his whereabouts. Chemist Lester Friedman was also subpoenaed. On October 13, 1972, he appeared before the San Francisco grand jury and testified extensively about ‘Doctor Stark’. He did not mention his own involvement with Stark’s laboratory at Le Clocheton, Belgium, but agents of the taskforce found documents at the Paris law firm relating to Ron Stark’s operation and Friedman’s role as a shareholder. When the lab was searched, its clandestine functions as an LSD factory had been dismantled, and there was no sign of Stark.

On February 21, 1973, a federal grand jury in Pittsburgh indicted Billy Hitchcock on charges of income tax evasion and Regulation T violations. Hitchcock finally cracked and struck a plea bargain. He agreed to testify before the federal grand jury in San Francisco as an ‘unindicted co-conspirator’ and name his fellow conspirators. In return he would write the IRS a cheque for $543,800 and walk with a five-year suspended sentence.

In April, 1973, Hitchcock gave grand jury testimony in which he admitted more or less everything about his role in LSD finances; and incriminated Tim Scully. Hitchcock’s testimony also gave the government enough leverage to force his assistant, Charlie Rumsey, to plea bargain. On 26 Apri 1973 an indictment returned ‘The US v. Nick Sand, Tim Scully, Lester Friedman, David Mantell, Michael Randall, Michael Druce and Ronald Stark’. Only Sand, Scully and Lester Friedman were ‘available’ to appear in court. Druce couldn’t be extradited from the United Kingdom, as the existing extradition treaty didn’t cover conspiracy charges (he turned down an offer to appear as a ‘non-indicted co-conspirator’). Mantell, Randall and Stark were nowhere to be found. Billy Hitchcock offered Scully a loan of $10,000 for legal fees with the recommendation that he apply for the same ‘unindicted co-conspirator‘ status. Scully took the money but declined to snitch.

The situation for both Sand and Scully was desperate. Presiding Judge Conti had made his feelings clear in pre-trial proceedings when he mentioned casually that he wished he had access to the death penalty in the case. The government had overwhelming evidence that the defendants had been making psychedelic drugs. Scully testified, untruthfully, that he had been making ALD-52 (1-acetyl-LSD), which the government had not yet specified as an illicit substance, rather than LSD-25. But the prosecution, basing their argument on the available scientific literature, were able to show that the synthesis of ALD-52 required LSD as an ingredient.

Also the government had come into possession of financial records which showed that very large sums of money had been used to make purchases of raw materials for making LSD. As it would have been clear to the jury that Hitchcock himself had been a major player in the conspiracy, the defence argued that Hitchcock was the mastermind of it all and tried to explain away all the money as all being his (not that this would have bothered Hitchcock greatly, as he had been granted immunity, and was in no further legal jeopardy).

Nick Sand’s lawyer, Michael Kennedy, tried to call Timothy Leary as a defence witness but Leary, who was negotiating a deal with the FBI to get out of prison, declined to appear. Scully naively tried to explain his idealistic reasons for making psychedelics; but that did not work either. In January 1974 the jury returned guilty verdicts on the conspiracy charges. Judge Conti, saying he regarded idealists as the ‘most dangerous people of all’, passed sentences higher than anyone in the Brotherhood of Eternal Love ever got. Scully got a sentence of 20 years and Sand 15 years. Lester Friedman was acquitted of conspiracy to make drugs, but later pleaded guilty to perjury.

Scully says now,

‘With 20/20 hindsight I regret having taken the witness stand. Lying on the witness stand is never a good idea. If you’re guilty it’s best to sit mute.’

He adds, regarding ensuing accounts of the trial in various books:

‘I was stuck with the fibs that I’d told for many, many years because I didn’t want to admit to having perjured myself. The result is that the historical record got very confused. I feel bad about that too.’

Sand and Scully were both incarcerated at McNeil Island high-security prison. Sand, true to form, had LSD smuggled in, courtesy of Judy, and organised tripping sessions with fellow inmates. Scully stayed straight and got a job in the prison library where he studied constitutional law in preparation for his appeal. In August 1974, after their bail-bonds were reduced, Sand and Scully were released pending their appeals. But, on September 13, 1976 the Ninth Circuit Court denied the appeals . Scully, now dependent on the legal services of the federal public defender, appealed this decision to the US Supreme Court. He submitted a petition for writ of certiorari: to have a judicial review by a higher court of Judge Conti’s proceedings. This petition was denied on February 22, 1977 and Judge Conti ordered him to turn himself in at McNeil Island by March 15, 1977. Scully complied.

Nick Sand hadn’t bothered with an appeal to the Supreme Court. As soon as he heard that the Ninth Circuit Court had denied the appeals he decided to abscond. With his ex-girlfriend, Nancy Pinney, driving the getaway car, Sand took off. The DEA, figuring he would do just that, tailed the couple but lost them. Sand bought a load of fishing tackle to look like a tourist and crossed into Canada, where he was joined by his partner, Judy Shaughnessy.

When Scully was on appeal bond in 1974, he had enrolled in an external degree program from the Humanistic Psychology Institute. This was for designing and building a computerized physiological monitoring system and gathering experimental data for research. During this respite, Scully also did volunteer work. One of his clients was a young handicapped woman for whom he designed a nonvocal communication system. When he was re-incarcerated on March 15, 1977, he was able to develop the system for her by having parts sent into the prison so he could assemble her computer and program it. Scully continued to do volunteer work from prison, and worked as an assistant to the prison psychologist. He was awarded a Ph.D a few months before he was paroled on February 11, 1980 and released to a halfway house.

Scully came out of prison in debt: an unpaid $10,000 fine, a substantial amount owed to the IRS, and tuition fees owed to the Humanistic Psychology Institute. Having to work to pay the debts, the amount of volunteer work he could do was limited but he continued to work through an organisation called Computers for the Physically Handicapped to develop microcomputer-based communication aids. From 1987-2005 he worked as a consultant and software/hardware designer for the Autodesk corporation. Currently, among other projects, he is researching and writing about the history of underground LSD manufacturing,

Most of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love fugitives who featured on Operation BEL’s wanted poster in 1972 were eventually caught. None of them had to serve very long prison terms; and most of them went back into dealing or smuggling drugs afterwards. The short sentences they got were indicative of the difference between the Orange County grand jury case and the federal grand jury case in San Francisco. Almost everyone indicted by the Orange County grand jury eventually was able to get the most of the charges thrown out because the evidence that been gathered was too fragmentary and too flimsy, while the federal grand jury in San Francisco worked under the direction of very professional prosecutors who gathered enough information to make their charges stick.

In 1977 Nick Sand, now using the false ID, ‘Ted Parody’, was converted to the ideas of the Indian mystic, Shree Rajneesh. Sand and Shaughnessy grew and sold magic mushrooms which made them enough money to travel to meet Rajneesh at his ashram near Pune, India. They bought a house there and Sand produced vegetables for the ashram in a large hydroponic garden. He also constructed an LSD lab at his house, having located a source of ergotamine tartrate in India. Sand helped Rajneesh get a passport to leave India and establish a Rajneeshee community near Antelope, Oregon. Posing as a Canadian, Sand moved there and remained until the ashram disbanded in late 1985 in the wake of a series of serious crimes by Rajneeshee’s followers, including a mass food poisoning attack with salmonella bacteria and an aborted plot to murder U.S. Attorney Charles H. Turner.

Sand returned to Canada, settling in Aldergrove, British Columbia and grew marijuana indoors using hydroponics. Trying his hand at a straight job for a change, Sand invested in gold mining machinery. But in the late 1980s his partners, the Smith brothers, who falsely accused him of arson. The resulting investigation by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police revealed that Ted Parody’s ID was false. Released on bail, Sand fled to Mexico and Central America, eventually returning to Canada using another false ID.

In September, 1996 he was arrested while making DMT, MDMA, and LSD at a lab near Vancouver The RCMP soon worked out that they had arrested the notorious Nick Sand, who had been a fugitive from US justice for 15 years. In February 1998, Sand was given a nine year sentence which the Canadian authorities agreed to let run concurrently with his US sentence. His lawyer made a deal with the US authorities for him to be repatriated to California in return for credit for time served in Canada. But Judge Conti, who was specifically brought out of retirement to pass judgement on Sand, handed him an additional consecutive five-year term for jumping bail.

On 22 December 2000, Sand was released from prison after winning an appeal that overturned his conviction for bail-jumping back in 1976 on the grounds that he was never given a specific date to report to the court. In 2009 Sand told a National Geographic television interviewer that during his career he had made 140 million doses of LSD. Sand talked about writing a memoir but never got round to it. He died on 24 April 2017.

(NEXT UP: A serialised chapter on Tim Leary’s 1970 prison escape and his travels as a fugitive)

Orange Sunshine, the Brotherhood of Eternal Love and Ronald Stark

10/12/23

Continuing the serialisation of Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD by David Black (Amazon. Also on Kindle: HERE)

John Griggs: belhistory.weebly.com

Business Matters

In late June 1968, agents of the Bureau of Drug Abuse Control (BDAC) busted Tim Scully’s second Denver lab. The BDAC failed, however, to nab Scully himself, or his new partner, Nick Sand. The two LSD chemists were determined to continue production, but needed to obtain the necessary chemical ingredients. To this end they Invited British commodity traders Michael Druce and Ronald Craze to come to California as guests of Billy Hitchcock at his house in Sausalito. Craze, according to his memoirs, wanted investment money for a livestock feeds company. The idea was that the new business – called ‘Alban Feeds’ – would sell Sand and Scully the chemicals they needed and then invest the sales money in livestock feeds production. As Alban Feeds wouldn’t actually be supplying LSD, the arrangement – to supply ‘specialist chemicals’ – was believed to be legally above board.

Nick Sand met the two Englishmen at the airport in San Francisco and showed them the ‘scene’. Michael Druce, for all his front as a straight businessman, was familiar with the ways of the Millbrook fraternity. He even occasionally indulged in psychedelic drugs. In contrast, Ronald Craze was thoroughly unfamiliar with the scene and found the psychedelic fraternity to be utterly bizarre. When Timothy Leary offered him a joint at a party, Craze had no idea what it was, and embarrassed himself by opening his cigarette packet and saying ‘Oh, have one of mine!’

Sand did the negotiating with Druce and Craze during their visit. Having made a packet from STP it was Sand who provided the money. Hitchcock invested in Alban Feeds acting as Sand’s nominee. A third of the money Druce and Craze received from Sand was for investment in Alban Feeds – in the form of a convertible debenture – while the other two thirds was a down payment on a shipment of ergotamine tartrate and lysergic acid. On returning to England, Druce and Craze persuaded an animal feeds expert, Michael Faulkner-Jones, to come onboard with the new company. Albans Feeds opened a new office in Dunstable, Bedfordshire, and produced an impressive-looking catalogue of animal feeds products.

Druze and Craze were paid for their services via the Americans’ new banking facilities. Billy Hitchcock had enjoyed a successful run as broker in American stocks for the Fiduciary Bank and Trust Company. But after the US Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) scrutinised his dealings and imposed a consent decree to restrict them, Hitchcock made a new arrangement with the Paravicini Bank in Switzerland. This latter arrangement provided an extra arm’s length for the purchase of laboratory facilities; because any attempt by US Federal agents to track the cash-flow of their targets would come up against the Swiss banking fraternity’s uncompromising defence of ‘confidentiality’.

Hitchcock convinced both Owsley and Sand to transfer the money they had stashed off-shore in the Bahamas to the Paravicini bank so he could profitably play the stock market – with both his money and theirs. On August 30 1968, $32,000 was transferred from the Paravicini bank to a London bank for Alban Feeds. Then Hitchcock had $100,000 of Sand’s money transferred from the Paravicini bank to another Swiss bank, the Vontobel. In early September, Sand passed the $100,000 on to Druce’s bank in London as payment for the lysergic acid.

Avenging Angels

Nick Sand, having successfully sold his stash of White Lightning LSD during the 1967 Summer of Love, had gone on later that year to make STP at his new D&H Custom Research laboratory. This was distributed by the Hell’s Angels. Sand, effectively putting one over on the Angels, mislabelled his STP – which wasn’t a well-known psychedelic brand – as LSD. Sand, however, soon found out that doing business with them was far from risk-free. When a delivery to the Hell’s Angels of 12,000 doses of STP was found to have been spoiled by moisture in storage, Angels’ leader Terry ‘The Tramp’ Tracey and his assistant, George Wethern, drove the seventy-five miles from San Francisco to Nick Sand’s Cloverdale ranch. They shot at the locks on the gate, went in and terrorised everyone staying there, including women and children, until Sand arrived to replace the spoiled STP.

Sand’s relations with the Hell’s Angels went from bad to worse. When a rival dealer began undercutting the Angels in sales of STP, Wethern beat him up until he revealed that Sand had supplied him at a cheaper price than he was giving the Angels. Wethern also learned that Sand had been diverting the lithium aluminum hydride the Angels had stolen for him to make DMT into his STP production. Wethern and a team of henchman took Sand to a cemetery and pistol-whipped him.

George Wethern was a dangerous thug in more ways than one. On a ranch he later bought in Mendocino County there were some abandoned water wells which the Hell’s Angels used to dump the bodies of people they had murdered. Later, in 1973, Wethern became a government informer and he eventually testified as a government witness against Nick Sand. Tim Scully had never harboured illusions that taking LSD would make the Oakland Hell’s Angels less violent, hedonistic and money-grabbing than they were. He had never been happy about Bear’s dealings with them, knowing that they also distributed heroin and methedrine. One of the reasons Scully wanted to give LSD away for free was because distributors like the Hell’s Angels were putting LSD into the same distribution channels as hard drugs and thus exposing young acid freaks to the risk of getting addicted and falling into their clutches.

John Griggs and Tim Leary

Now working independently of Bear Stanley, Scully turned to Billy Hitchcock for advice on finding an alternative distribution channel. Billy suggested Scully ask the Brotherhood of Eternal Love. In 1966, in California, John Griggs, leader of a hoodlum gang from Anaheim, read a newspaper article about a Dr Timothy Leary, who was supplying Harvard professors, movie stars and writers with a new legal ‘wonder drug’ called LSD. Griggs felt resentful. He figured why should plebs like himself have to risk imprisonment scoring weed and heroin when the elite were getting much higher with impunity, on something that was unavailable in the dope underground? When Griggs heard that a local Hollywood film producer was hosting LSD parties, he organised an armed raid on his house. Griggs and two accomplices – Tommy Tunnell and Joe Buffalo – donned ski masks, barged into a party that was in full swing, brandished their weapons and demanded acid. The film producer, relieved that the gang didn’t want anything in the house except LSD, shouted ‘Have a good trip guys!’ as they roared off on their motorcycles into the night with a stash of his LSD. Soon, Griggs and his friends were dancing on the beach, shouting ‘This is it! Thank you God!’, and throwing their guns into the sea.

Days later, Griggs had a near-death experience when he was hospitalised with hepatitis he had contracted through his heroin addiction. He immediately gave up heroin and put his epiphany down to the ‘ego-death’ experience he’d had with LSD. Griggs ordered Leary’s publications on how to program LSD trips and began to hold weekly group sessions, usually in the mountains or on the beach. Soon they drew in hundreds of local surfers and bikers, who adopted the group’s motto: ‘Stay High and Love God’. After Griggs read Leary’s book, Start Your Own Religion, he travelled east to meet the author at the Millbrook retreat. Griggs impressed Leary as a proselytiser. ‘He had this charisma, energy, that sparkle in his eye’, Leary recalled. In Brotherhood member Travis Ashbrook’s assessment of Leary’s relationship to Griggs,

‘A lot of people thought John was a acolyte of Timothy Leary, but Tim told me that he considered John to be his guru. But it’s true that Timothy was inspiring us in an important way. He was college professor, someone in our parents’ generation, and he was telling us we were doing the right thing when he said “tune in, turn on and drop out.” There is a lot of self-doubt when you are doing something as far out as what we were doing, and Tim came along to tell us not to doubt it anymore’.

Days after the anti-LSD legislation in California in October 1966, the Brotherhood of Eternal Love registered as a tax-exempt religious church, dedicated to upholding the ‘sacred right of each individual to commune with God in spirit and in truth as it is empirically revealed to him’, and bringing to the world ‘a greater awareness of God through the teachings of Jesus Christ, Buddha, Ramakrishna, Babaji, Paramahansa Yogananda, Mahatma Ghandi, and all true prophets…’ The paperwork for incorporating the group as a legally registered non-profit organisation was filed by Glenn Lynd, as he was the only member who didn’t have a criminal record.

The Brotherhood set up a store-front in Laguna Beach, named Mystic Arts World, adorned with paintings by Dion Wright, the group’s artist-in-residence. The venture did good business, selling records, books, clothes and drugs paraphernalia to the local head community. Behind the business front of Mystic Arts World, the Brotherhood was developing a well-organised drug smuggling and distribution business. The Brotherhood ran marijuana across the Mexican border and bought Owsley-made LSD from the Hells Angels in San Francisco. On a trip to Afghanistan in search of hash, Travis Ashbrook and Ron Bevan met with Nazrullah Tokhi in Kandahar. Nazrullah and his two brothers Hayatullah and Amanullah, helped establish the Brotherhood as the biggest hash-smuggling operation in North America; with tons of hash concealed in cars and mobile homes blending in with the migration of young long-haired travellers along the Hippie Trail. Ultimately, the dealing was intended to finance the move to a secluded place, far from the maddening crowd and the Feds, where the Brotherhood’s life-style dreams could be realised.

One inspiration was Aldous Huxley’s utopian novel, Island. The community on Huxley’s imagined Polynesian island blends certain elements of western science and eastern Buddhism to develop a technology that works with nature rather than against it. Tantric sex – the ‘yoga of love’ – is taught and practiced. The family unit is extended by communal child-rearing. For some, this utopian dream actually seemed like a practical option – if the alternative was long-term incarceration at San Quintin. Brother Edward Padilla recalled,

‘The idea of moving to an island was as serious as a heart attack. We were going to buy a yacht, a big boat and sail there. We were talking about how to deliver babies, how to plant seeds, what to grow’.

Brother Jack Harrington had even flown to Micronesia to check out an island he had heard about. But in spring 1968, John Griggs, on his own initiative, made a down payment on a 300-acre piece of land in the mountains above Palm Springs. Though it was not on an island, it was secluded. Nicholas Schou’s book, Orange Sunshine, gives the impression that Griggs’ move was seen by disgruntled comrades as something of a betrayal of the group’s ideals. Tim Scully disagrees:

‘I’m not convinced that all the Brotherhood shared the same dream of an island. My impression is that the Brotherhood was a large enough group that there were subgroups with different dreams. Each of those groups may have thought their dream was everyone’s dream but that was an illusion. At the time when the LSD subsystem led by John Griggs bought the Brotherhood ranch, another subgroup decided to move to Oregon and a third group moved to Hawaii. Each group followed their own dream. My point is that it was more complicated than the people that Nick Schou interviewed made it sound.’

Although Bear Stanley had a low opinion of the Brotherhood, Tim Scully begged to differ; having met John Griggs at Billy Hitchcock’s house in Sausalito, he had been very impressed by him. To Scully, the Brotherhood of Eternal Love (at least in their determination to disseminate LSD as a social good) had a philosophy which was genuinely spiritual and non-violent. Being idealists didn’t stop the Brotherhood from building up one of the most successful drug-smuggling operations in the world. In the summer of 1968, John Griggs and Michael Randall of the Brotherhood visited Hitchcock in Sausalito. The Brotherhood, says Scully, ‘were having trouble getting as much as they wanted to distribute, so when I came and said, “I’d like you to distribute the LSD I make,” they were very happy’.

A New Dawn

Nick Sand and Tim Scully

Tim Scully’s collaboration with Nick Sand led in November 1968 to the establishment of an LSD lab in Windsor, near Santa Rosa, California. In this new partnership Scully insisted that both Sand and he would sell everything they made at Windsor through the Brotherhood, and not the Hell’s Angels. STP production was dropped; Scully was having moral scruples about putting it on the streets. In 1967 the negative effects of STP became apparent when people suffering extreme panic attacks were admitted to the Haight-Ashbury Medical Clinic and the San Francisco General Hospital. The Haight-Ashbury Clinic was quick to warn the local freak community that overdosing STP could cause psychosis and an ‘acute chronic and toxic reaction’ lasting for up to 24 hours. Scully says,

‘Owsley Stanley talked me into making some STP. I don’t feel good about having done that; STP turned out not to be a good psychedelic’. He adds that STP ‘lacked heart. It did not lead to experiences of oneness the way that LSD often did. And quite a few people had terrifying experiences until they learned how to correctly use the drug’.

Scully’s priorities were to get money for the legal fees of his two lab assistants who had been busted in Denver lab, and to buy more raw materials. His ultimate ambition was still to make 200 kilos of acid – enough for several hundred million good doses – and give it away to help change consciousness on a global scale. As he says now, ‘That latter fantasy did not happen’. Sand brought on board Professor Lester Friedman, of Case Western University, Missouri, to train him in advanced production techniques in return for a lucrative ‘research grant’ plus a stake in the front companies being set up in Europe for procurement of materials.

In the fiscal paradise of the Bahamas, Billy Hitchcock had a private account at the Castle Bank and Trust. This laundromat for Mafia narcotics trafficking had been co-founded by Edward Halliwell, a CIA asset whose air transport company had flown heroin to bankroll covert operations in the Golden Triangle and Indo-China. Hitchcock also made arrangements at Resorts International, another Bahamas-based conduit for Mafia money, and at the Fiduciary Trust Company, an offshoot of Investors Overseas Services (IOS). Headquartered in Geneva, IOS was headed by the notorious and crooked financier,Bernie Cornfeld (user of the slogan ‘Do you sincerely want to be rich?’).

Hitchcock, who spent some time in London, may have learned some of the dark arts of finance from Cornfeld himself. As an investment advisor, Hitchcock certainly learned about the attraction overseas trusts had for wealthy people trying to dodge taxes without breaking the law. As Alan Block and Sean Griffin put it in the Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice:

‘He (the taxpayer) puts money in a Bahama central trust. Why in the Bahamas? There is no income tax or estate tax in the Bahamas. Why in a trust? A trust is like a corporation, a separate legal entity. This separate entity is a non-resident alien, and a non-resident alien can sell an asset in the United States with no tax. How delightful! Now, if that non-resident alien ties in with a distributing company in the Netherlands Antilles, which can earn interest in the United States without a tax under any circumstances, he has put together a perfect set-up. He takes losses and deductions in the United States and he takes gains and profits abroad, under a tax treaty’.

Sand and Scully’s San Francisco lawyer, Peter Buchanan, handled the details of purchasing property for the laboratory established in Windsor, in November 1968. Buchanan attempted to hide the source of the money by buying cashier’s checks with cash and depositing them at New York banks in his law firm’s trust account. As a means of covering up real estate purchase and avoiding taxes, this, as we shall see, proved to be ineffective.

How Orange Sunshine conquered America.

By May 1969, at their laboratory in Windsor, California, Nick Sand; his pregnant partner, Jill Henry; Tim Scully; and David Mantell had produced over a kilogram of LSD, enough for more than 4 million 300 μg doses. Sand took charge of the tableting, churning out tiny pills dyed in orange, which were to become known as Orange Sunshine.

Tim Scully, having just obtained his pilot’s license, was having a piece of navigation equipment fitted onto his plane at Napa County Airport, California. On May 26, 1969, he strolled into the hangar only to be greeted by the Feds: ‘Tim Scully? You’re under arrest!’ He was taken to the Federal Building in San Francisco where investigators quizzed him on incriminating evidence found in his second Denver laboratory, which had been raided in his absence the previous year. Scully refused to answer his interrogators questions without the presence of his lawyer and was released on bail.

Sand, on learning of Scully’s arrest, was worried that the Feds might have found a paper trail leading to his lab in Windsor. So not wanting to take any chances, Sand closed it and moved his equipment out. His next move, in the fall of 1969, was to set up the Tekton Development Company in San Francisco to obtain lab equipment.

The Brotherhood of Eternal Love, led by John Griggs at the ranch at Idyllwild, was now distributing the Orange Sunshine. When the Brotherhood first moved into Idyllwild, in spring 1968, it had toolsheds, tractors, a windmill for drawing water from the well, diesel generators and a corral full of cattle. Dion Wright, a frequent visitor, noticed that what had once been a fully functioning ranch had strangely become a primitive camp: most of the inhabitants were living in teepees and since they didn’t eat meat the cattle had been given away to local ranchers. Glenn Lynd, as quoted in Nicholas Schou’s book, Orange Sunshine, says he expressed concerns about group-marriage arrangements inspired by Aldous Huxley’s novel Island, which he claimed Griggs appeared to be enforcing in the name of free love. Lynd’s account however, may have been coloured by his later status as a government informer, i.e. it may have been a bit of self-justification for snitching. Tim Scully is adamant that Lynd’s claim that the people living on the Brotherhood Ranch practiced free love is ‘utterly untrue’. He says:

‘At that time it was very common for most of us in the Psychedelic scene to practice free love and it was relatively unusual that the people living on the Brotherhood Ranch practiced monogamy. But they did so. Carol Griggs was a strong force in insisting for monogamy on the ranch’.

On 4 August 1969 the Idyllwid community was shattered by the sudden death of John Griggs from a drug overdose. According to Lee and Shlain’s account, in Acid Dreams, Griggs’ demise in a teepee at Idyllwild was due to an overdose of PCP (Phencyclidine: also known as ‘Angel Dust’). During the 1967 ‘Summer of Love’ in San Francisco, large amounts of PCP had been touted as synthetic cannabis (tetra-hydro-cannibinol – THC) amongst the Haight Ashbury hippies. PCP, which had been tested on soldiers at Edgewood Arsenal, was stockpiled by the CIA as a ‘non-lethal incapacitant’ even though agents reported that high doses could ‘lead to convulsions and death’.

In Timothy Leary’s version, in Flashbacks, the fatal dose was a synthetic concoction of psilocybin Griggs had bought from an underground chemist in Los Angeles. Leary claimed that laboratory tests had revealed the pills contained strychnine and that during this period there were many reports of psychedelics laced with poisons circulating in the counter-culture. According to Leary, rumours spread ‘about federal drug enforcement agents circulating tainted drugs, but there was no proof’.* According to Dion Wright,

‘The role of the intelligence community is unclear, but they were undoubtedly some kind of factor. Certainly the density of agents from various levels of government was more than anyone perceived at that time. I have come down on the side of a government assassination that worked’.

The authors of Acid Dreams seem to imply that Griggs’ death was suspicious. They write:

‘In the aftermath of Grigg’s death there was shakeup in the Brotherhood hierarchy. A different breed took over, and their approach to dealing was more competitive and cutthroat than before’.

According to Tendler and May’s account in their book, The Brotherhood, Griggs died because he simply miscalculated a dose of psilocybin mushroom pills. Tim Scully, who obtained Griggs’ death certificate and talked with the people who were with him when he died, says that is precisely what happened:

‘He died after aspirating vomit on the way to the hospital lying down in the back of a pickup truck where his friends didn’t know enough first aid to keep his airway open after he took a very large dose of synthetic psilocybin which came from Switzerland and which was pure. A contributing factor to John’s death was his propensity to be macho about taking extremely large doses of drugs, something many of the Brotherhood guys did. You can get away with that with LSD since very large doses are still not physically toxic but that habit becomes very dangerous when applied to other drugs such as psilocybin.’

After John Griggs’ death Michael Randall took over the Brotherhood’s LSD distribution system and married Griggs’ widow. The Brotherhood carried on.

The authors of Acid Dreams claim that by the summer of 1969 the Brotherhood was ‘stymied by lack of raw materials’ for LSD production, and ‘It was at this point that a mysterious figure named Ronald Hadley Stark appeared on the scene’.

Ronald Stark was operating a secret laboratory in Paris, with the British scientist, Richard Kemp, as his chief chemist. Towards the the end of 1969, Stark decided to expand his operation to the US, through the Brotherhood of Eternal Love. To this end he reached out to Billy Hitchcock via his envoy, Tord Svenson. By this time. however, Hitchcock’s luck playing the stock markets was running out and he was facing an IRS investigation of his tax affairs. He decided to drop out of involvement with the LSD underground and move back east. So when Svenson, in early 1970, contacted Billy Hitchcock to do some LSD business, Hitchcock deferred and directed him westwards to contact Nick Sand and Tim Scully.

In Lee and Shlain’s book Acid Dreams, the account of Ronald Stark’s first meeting with the Brotherhood of Eternal Love goes as follows.

In August 1969, Ronald Hadley Stark drove across San Jacinto Mountains of California and descended on the bungalow and teepees at the Brotherhood of Eternal Love’s Idyllwild ranch with an offer they couldn’t refuse. Stark was carrying a bottle containing a kilo of pure LSD made at a laboratory in Europe. Stark talked about his expertise in scams: smuggling drugs in consignments of Japanese equipment, utilising business fronts in West Africa, and moving money through a maze of shell companies set up by his lawyers in various continents. However, he explained, he also had a mission: to use LSD in order to facilitate the overthrow of the political systems of both the capitalist West and communist East by inducing altered states of consciousness in millions of people. Stark also hinted that he was well-connected in the world of covert politics.

This narrative would make a great scene in a psychedelic 20th century western directed by Quentin Tarantino. But it is largely a myth. The claim in Acid Dreams that by the summer of 1969 the Brotherhood was ‘stymied by lack of raw materials’ for LSD production, and that at this point Stark appeared is dismissed by Tim Scully. He points out that in the summer of 1969 the Brotherhood was busy selling vast quantities of Orange Sunshine and was not short of anything.

According to Acid Dreams, ‘Stark spoke ten languages fluently, including French, German, Italian, Arabic and Chinese’. Scully disputes this:

‘Everybody I know who knew him says that’s not true. He spoke English, French, German, Italian, and apparently some Arabic. He did not speak Spanish and tried to use his Italian unsuccessfully to substitute for it’.

Most importantly, Ron Stark didn’t suddenly appear on the California scene ‘coincidently’ following the demise of John Griggs in summer 1969. Stark first appeared in California in spring 1970. At Billy Hitchcock’s suggestion, Stark reached out to Tim Scully and Nick Sand, first by sending as an envoy his colleague, Tord Svenson. Tim Scully initially met Ron Stark in March or April 1970 and shortly thereafter introduced him to Nick Sand at the Cloverdale ranch. Scully recalls:

‘Ron Stark did not deliver a kilo of LSD to the Brotherhood. When he came to California to meet me, after a preliminary visit by his chemist, Tord Svenson, he convinced me to introduce him to Nick Sand and he brought that LSD along as his calling card. By the way, it wasn’t in a bottle, it was in a plastic bag. Nick remembered it as being a pound while I remembered it as being a kilo. He claimed to have European laboratories that could produce an unlimited amount of LSD and all he lacked was American distribution. I was thrilled to hear that because by then some of the gumption had leaked out of my enthusiasm for saving the world by making LSD. I still believed that it would be a positive force but I was becoming less and less convinced that simply spreading LSD to the four winds would save the world while at the same time I was free on appeal bond from the bust of my second Denver lab and facing a possible total of 56 years in Colorado state prison. Over a period of days Ron managed to convince us to introduce him to the Brotherhood and we took him down to the Brotherhood Ranch in Southern California.’

Ronald Stark takes over the Brotherhood of Eternal Love

Michael Druce and Ronald Craze’s company,Alban Feeds, had been paid handsomely in advance by Nick Sand to supply lysergic acid and ergotamine tartrate for LSD production. In 1970, however, the supply stopped, much to Sand’s unease. Accompanied by Donald Munson, he took a plane to London and went to see Druce, who could only excuses about the company’s cash-flow problems. Although Alban Feeds registered a profit of £128,000 in the first year of trading, it was heavily indebted to the National Westminster Bank due to overextended investments. But the most important excuse Druce kept to himself: he had been visited by a detective sergeant from Scotland Yard, who informed him that raw materials found in an illegal LSD lab in Denver had been traced back to his company  (the lab had actually been Tim Scully’s, raided back in June 1968). Druce was warned against supplying any more chemicals that might be used for making LSD in the US. Though Sand and Munson were kept in the dark about this, they sensed that Druce and Craze weren’t inclined to either deliver the chemicals or return the money that had been advanced.

They knew, however, that Craze had stashed ergotamine tartrate in a safe deposit box in Hamburg. The stockpile was a strategic asset of Alban Feeds: its market value was likely to increase over time; and served as collateral for loans from the bank. Ronald Stark hatched a plan to expropriate it. Lester Friedman, who acted as the go-between for Sand’s raw materials purchases, told Druce and Craze that a German firm in Switzerland called Inland Alkaloids wanted to make a bulk purchase of ergotamine tartrate. Craze didn’t suspect that Inland Alkaloids was in fact nothing more than a front company with a Swiss postal box number, whose directors were actually Friedman and Ronald Stark’s assistant, Simon Walton. Craze sent documents for the sale, expecting payment in return, but heard nothing. Craze thought he had ensured that the chemicals could not be collected without proper authorization, but his instructions had not been specific enough. Simon Walton walked into the firm’s offices, presented documents for the order, and walked out with the 9 kilos of ergotamine tartrate.

Craze also wrote letters to Sand, Friedman and Hitchcock, telling them that their scam had ruined his business and he wasn’t prepared to let the matter drop. Craze was soon visited in London by Nick Sand and Lester Friedman. Sand suggested to Craze that he wasn’t as innocent as he made out, as he had taken money from Billy Hitchcock for consignments that hadn’t been delivered. Craze pleaded innocence, saying that the only money he had received was to set up an animal feed business and that it was legitimate loan, legally endorsed. He had ousted Druce as a partner because he was convinced Druce had been swindling the company’s money and had been complicit in the scam. According to Craze’s memoirs:

‘Nick said that he was sorry for me but that there was nothing he could do to help me. Perhaps I should put it down to bad judgement and bad company and forget the whole thing as he couldn’t see how I was going to get anywhere. I told him that wasn’t an option. I had lost everything and my only way of surviving was to track down who was behind Inland Alkaloids, and if I couldn’t do it myself I would have to go to the police… if they knew anything at all or could find out anything I begged them to get in touch with me as time was of the essence.’

Craze’s threat to involve the police was not taken lightly. Next, Craze got an invite from a ‘Professor Ronald Stark’ to meet him at the Army and Navy Club, a plush gentleman’s club on Pall Mall, at 3 o’clock the following afternoon. When Craze arrived Stark told him he had been requested to meet Craze by ‘some friends’ who had been disturbed by letters Craze had written to them.:

‘He asked me politely if I could explain what happened. So I told him the whole story of Inland Alkaloids, Mike Druce’s treachery, the destruction of our business and possible bankruptcy. He listened patiently and when I finished he shook his head saying it was a most distressing business. He said that he wasn’t without influence and with my permission perhaps he could talk to the bank. Then, Craze recalled, Stark came to the point: He still needed supplies, we no longer delivered. In my heart I knew that I would never catch up with the people behind Inland Alkaloids, and it might be dangerous involving the police… He had read me correctly. I was to learn five years later that he had been sent over to see if I should be eliminated, and to arrange for a contract on me, but he had reported back that I was small fry, and as long as the organisation took preventative measures, I would probably cause them no more trouble.’

Craze’s claim that Stark had been considering having him ‘eliminated’ probably came from the police’s later investigation (‘Operation Julie’). But there is no record of anyone in the Brotherhood of Eternal Love or its LSD sub-system ever carrying out retribution by means of death threats or actual assassination (notwithstanding an FBI statement back in 1962 that ‘Stark is reported to possess a sidearm and his mental condition is reported to be questionable. Therefore care should be exercised in contacts with him’).

In any case, Craze’s self-image as a ‘legit’ entrepreneur dedicated to supplying farmers in under-developed countries with animals feeds, blissfully unaware of any illegality, never convinced Nick Sand; or Tim Scully, who says,

‘Craze was very disingenuous in claiming that all of that money was intended as an investment in Alban Feeds. The amount that was invested in Alban Feeds was essentially a tip or a bribe for Druce and Craze… I believe that Druce and Craze already knew that they were going to have trouble selling us more ergot alkaloids at the time when they accepted a large order from Nick.’

Over the years Stark had built up a network of very useful contacts for moving money and materials around the world through front companies. During his stay in Ghana in 1967, Stark as representative of the Interbiochemical company, had befriended an economic adviser at the American Embassy in Accra, named Charles Adams. They had resumed their friendship later in Belgium. Stark also befriended Ned Coffin, the principal of a company which sold heavy electrical equipment to West African countries. Coffin helped Stark obtain ergotamine tartrate through a state-owned pharmaceutical company. Stark persuaded Coffin’s son who worked at a New York law firm to handle his business affairs. The firm’s partner in Paris, Sam Goekjian, drew up papers for a laboratory Stark had set up at Le Clocheton, near Louvain-le-Neuve University, Belgium.

Leading Brotherhood of Eternal Love organiser, Michael Randall, travelled to Belgium under an assumed name and stayed in the town with his family. It seemed like a perfect cover: university staff thought Stark was a genuine scientist; and that the lab was making legitimate chemicals for export to Switzerland. Randall’s order for LSD was shipped to New York,concealed in Stark’s Jaguar.

Nick Sand later said he saw none of the ergotamine tartrate consignment he had helped to extort from Druce and Craze; it almost certainly went to Stark’s labs in France and Belgium, although Stark had assured the Brotherhood it was safely stashed in Tangiers. Tim Scully says, ‘Ron Stark and Nick Sand competed for The Brotherhood of Eternal Love’s favors and Ron Stark eventually won’.

Back in California in, Tim Scully was trying to get the acid Stark brought over from Europe tableted:

‘The LSD that Ron brought was not very pure, having been precipitated by freezing rather than crystallized by gently cooling. It also had not been through preparative column chromatography — an important purification step. Ron wanted us to tablet the LSD so that the Brotherhood could distribute it. Nick was willing to do so but he wanted 50 per cent of the profits. I was somewhat reluctant but Ron managed to employ his skill as a con artist to convince me that it would be better for me to do the tableting than for Nick to do it. Ron offered to pay for all of the expenses involved and I soon found myself ordering a tablet machine from Joe Helpern in Chicago and organizing a crew to help me set up a tableting facility in Oregon. Sadly, when I went to pick up the tablet machine from Joe, it came with a free bonus of carloads of federal agents who followed me. Making a long story short, I eventually detected the surveillance when I turned off the interstate freeway at Pocatello, Idaho. I was unsuccessful at eluding them and eventually ended up parking the truck with the machine in it and flying back to California. I contacted my lawyer and arranged to have the machine sold for a legitimate purpose; he found a candy company that wanted to buy it.’

‘I had already started purifying Ron’s LSD at the tableting facility in Oregon which was waiting for the machine that would now never arrive. I started to finish up that task, but a lab accident got me overdosed on LSD without a tolerance and I started hallucinating federal agents in the trees around the lab. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I packed things up and handed the LSD over to the Brotherhood and told them I was sorry but I couldn’t do the work any longer. The risks had grown too high while my sense of the benefits had dropped too low and the balance tipped solidly against further involvement in the LSD underground. Nick ended up finishing the purification and tableting of Ron Stark’s acid by the way. And of course he collected his fee.’

 

Psychedelic Tricksters: Going Underground

2 December 2023. Here is the second part of my Substack serialisation of Chapter Six of Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD (Amazon. Also on Kindle: HERE) The first part of the serialisation is available HERE. – D.B.

Owsley Fights Prohibition

On January 22 1966 Ken Kesey fled to Mexico to avoid a six-month prison sentence for possession of marijuana. In his absence, the Merry Pranksters were led by Ken Babbs. The California Acid Tests ended in October 1966, when new legislation was enacted. The Drug Abuse Control Act of 1965 passed by the United States Congress empowered the Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare to designate LSD as a controlled substance, requiring licensing for sales and distribution.

Although this new federal law allowed possession for personal consumption, the California State Senate clamped down further and made possession of LSD a misdemeanor punishable by a maximum fine of $1,000 or a year in jail, and made manufacture and possession for sale a felony punishable by one to five years in prison. Other states followed with similar legislation. In 1968 the United States Congress made possession a misdemeanour and sale and manufacture a felony throughout the USA.

The Bureau of Drug Abuse Control (BDAC) was formed in February 1966 as a part of the United States Food and Drug Administration. In 1968, the BDAC was merged with the Federal Bureau of Narcotics to form the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs (BNDD), forerunner of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), which was established in July 1973.

Owsley/Bear Stanley was undeterred by the New Prohibition, as was his assistant, Time Scully, who wanted more than anything to work with him in making LSD. Scully’s wish was soon granted. In July 1966, Bear and Melissa Cargill set up a laboratory in Point Richmond, California with Scully and Don Douglas. Owsley had got as far as making a very pure crystal LSD, and obtained new equipment for tableting it. This became known as ‘White Lightning’. With Scully he succeeded in creating about 100 grams of LSD which made about 300,000 white lightning 300 μg tablets in addition to some handmade tablet triturates.The laboratory was also used to make DMT (N,N-Dimethyltryptamine), a synthetic version of a resinous South American tree bark with hallucinogenic properties.

Bear, having produced such a large run of LSD, was ready for a break, but Scully was keen to continue the work. Scully collected the material and equipment for a prospective new lab from various companies in the San Francisco area which Bear had recommended. Unknown to Scully however, the Bay Area BDAC had been asking local chemical suppliers to alert them to anyone ordering materials that might be used for LSD production.

On December 8, 1966 Scully called at a Bay Area chemical firm to collect some chemicals he had ordered. The man at the sales-desk helped load the purchases into his truck. Scully then walked home, leaving his colleague, Don Douglas, to drive away the truck. Douglas, as he drove off, noticed that the ‘sales-desk man’ jumped into a car and began following him. Knowing they had a surveillance tail caused some soul-searching, but Scully and Douglas decided that the BDAC agents were unlikely to act unless they were led to a laboratory; and as yet, there wasn’t one. But, shortly before Christmas 1966, Scully rented a house at 4210 East 26th Ave, near Denver City Park, to accommodate his first laboratory. As a cover story, he told the owner of the property that he was doing work in the basement with radio isotopes on a government licence which required special security.

In preparation for getting the Denver lab operational, the two chemists continued to gather equipment and chemicals in California, and did so under the eyes of the BDAC agents, to whom they would cheekily wave at in the street. Finally, on January 19, 1967 the truck was loaded up for the thousand-mile journey to Denver, Colorado. Scully and Douglas, having observed the tailing-techniques of the BDAC for some weeks, implemented a plan to shake off the surveillance. In the side streets of San Jose they succeeded in losing their BDAC tail and drove the truck to Denver.

Once the Denver facilities were in place Scully returned to San Francisco to collect a consignment of Bear Stanley’s lysergic acid. Bear however, had forgotten the false name he used for the Arizona safety deposit box in which he had stashed it. He did not admit his memory lapse; instead he told Scully that, given the heat he and Don Douglas had encountered when gathering chemicals and equipment, his ‘intuition’ told him to leave LSD production aside for the moment. In early 1967, chemist Sasha Shulgin had given Bear Stanley a small sample of STP (STP-2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylamphetamine) and a sketchy outline of the synthesis for making it. Bear insisted that Scully try to work out the process for making STP – which was still legal – from Shulgin’s sketchy notes and paid for the chemicals and equipment.

Nick Sand

Bear, while visiting New York in the fall of 1966, had met Nick Sand, who was cooking DMT there in a lab. Sand was born in 1941, the son of New York communists Clarence Hiskey and Marcia Sand. During World War II, Clarence worked as a chemist on the Manhattan project, but was dismissed in 1944 after army counter-intelligence observed him meeting a known Soviet spy named Arthur Adams. In 1948 Clarence and Marcia were called before the House Committee on Un-American Activities, but refused to testify about their friends. They were both cited for contempt, which cost Clarence his job at Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. In 1953, Clarence was subpoenaed to testify before a closed session of the Senate Subcommittee on Investigations, in which he was interrogated by Senator Joseph McCarthy and Donald Trump’s future lawyer, Roy Cohn. Due to lack of evidence, neither Clarence nor Marcia were prosecuted. Nick didn’t inherit his parents’ politics but he did inherit their rebellious, anti-establishment spirit and his father’s interest in chemistry. Nick enrolled at Brooklyn College night school to study sociology and anthropology in 1962 and graduated in 1966. During this period he taught himself chemistry and founded Bell Perfume Labs as a front for manufacturing DMT.

In 1964, Nick Sand met Richard Alpert at a lecture at Brooklyn College and turned him on to DMT. Alpert in return invited Sand to visit Millbrook and experience his first LSD trip. Alpert also introduced Sand to the writings of the Armenian mystical philosopher, George Gurdjieff, which profoundly influenced his thinking. Sand recruited former UC Berkeley organic chemistry student David Mantell to work at Bell Perfume Lab on purifying DMT and DET (diethyltryptamine). In September of 1966, Timothy Leary ceremoniously ‘appointed’ Sand as alchemist for the League for Spiritual Discovery and signed a document instructing law enforcement officials not to impede his work.

Sand, unlike Scully, treated the venture as a profit-making business. Sand, nonetheless, was an idealist, if also a fanatic. He recalled that during a pioneering trip, ‘… suddenly a voice came through my body that said your job on this planet is to make psychedelics and turn on the world. It was very interesting’. Sand, Scully, Bear Stanley and their psychedelic co-thinkers were deeply concerned with the immediate threat of global thermo-nuclear confrontation war and with the Vietnam War. Scully recalls:

‘When I was working with Bear, he and I took an acid trip with Richard Alpert one day in 1967 where we were planning the strategy of turning on the world, modest as we were, and one of the things we agreed on was that if we just turned on the United States it would be like unilateral disarmament. We really had to make sure that every country in the world got turned on, particularly those behind the Iron Curtain, or else it would be a very bad thing geopolitically. And so we talked to the Brotherhood [his later colleagues, the Brotherhood of Eternal Love – see below] and they made an effort to spread it around the world. And they did get our LSD into Vietnam and behind the Iron Curtain and all over’.

Nick Sand recalled of himself:

‘I was considered as some sort of mad man psychedelic commando because I’d go anywhere, do anything… If we could turn on everyone in the world then maybe we’d have a new world of peace and love. We had the insane desire to risk our freedom and be what we thought were American patriots’.

Tim Scully, for his part, favoured system-change. He was concerned about racial, economic and sexual inequality; laissez-faire capitalism; runaway environmental disasters; overpopulation; and more. He believed that if enough people took LSD they would be gentler with each other and with the environment, and less trusting of large organizations, including governments and large corporations.

Owsley suggested to Nick Sand that he move to California. In February 1967, Sand and David Mantell dismantled Bell Perfume Labs, packed the equipment into a used meat truck, and lit out for California with a plan to install it at a ranch in Cloverdale that Mantell rented. On April 3 their truck was pulled up by the police when Sand failed to stop at a weighing station in Dinosaur, Colorado. As Sand refused to pay a fine to the arresting officer, he and Mantell were jailed. A search of the truck yielded chemicals and laboratory equipment. The local sheriff’s office and BDAC proudly announced they had discovered a ‘mobile laboratory’ with 20 lb. of ‘LSD’, valued initially at $336 million. But as the drug had only been partially processed, the estimate rapidly dropped to $1.5 million. Also, as the search had been carried out without a warrant it was later ruled to have been unlawful; charges were dropped and the truck’s contents were returned to Sand two years later.

In a tragic accident which seems to have occurred just after Sand and Mantell left New York, Alan Bell of the Bell Perfume Lab died sleeping in an attic in New York when a candle fell over and ignited some decorative fabric hangings. Finally Sand and Mantell arrived in San Francisco. Bear introduced Sand to Scully and asked Scully to tell Sand everything he had learned about making STP. Sand had lost his chemicals and lab equipment in the bust in Colorado, but he still had a good supply of Bear’s White Lightning LSD stashed in New York, which he would sell during the 1967 Summer of Love.

According to Tendler and May’s book, The Brotherhood, at least some of this was distributed by the Hell’s Angels in batches worth sales of $50,000 in exchange for $40,000. Sand used the money he made from selling White Lightning to establish his D&H Custom Research lab in San Francisco, where he and Mantell made STP. To make STP he initially used small-scale table top glassware but soon scaled up his production so by early 1968 he was cooking larger batches of STP in a surplus 200-gallon stainless steel soup kettle. Scully’s Denver laboratory produced at least 2 lbs of STP before Bear finally remembered the name he had used for the safe deposit box containing his stash of lysergic acid. In the early autumn of 1967, production of LSD resumed. As distributors, Bear used the Oakland Hell’s Angels motorcycle gang, who he had met through Ken Kesey.

Profits from Bear’s productions accumulated rapidly. On a trip to Millbrook, Bear was stopped near the estate by police who found a safe-deposit key for his money-stash in New York which was regularly topped by Melissa Cargill. Timothy Leary suggested to Bear that he turn to banker Billy Hitchcock for help. Hitchcock called Bill Sayad, a banker at Fiduciary Trust at Nassau in the Bahamas. Sayad flew to Manhattan to pick up the money and open the account for Bear, under the name ‘Robin Goodfellow’. Tendler and May say that by winter of 1967 Bear had ‘$320,000 in safe deposit boxes around San Francisco’ as well as $225,000 ‘moved abroad, courtesy of Billy Hitchcock’.

In late September or early October 1967, Scully closed his first Denver lab. The BDAC never discovered it. Bear, having paid for all the raw material for the several hundred grams of acid produced there, stashed the whole product. He now wanted to get the LSD tableted and withdraw from LSD production. In October 1967, he told Scully, who was looking to establish another LSD lab, ‘You’re on your own’. Unfortunately for Bear, the BDAC tracked a dealer who did tableting for him back to his tableting facility in Orinda, California.

On December 21 1967, six BDAC agents broke down Bear’s door. Five people, including Bear and Melissa Cargill, were arrested. The agents seized 67.58 grams of LSD, and 161 grams of STP (which was still legal), plus laboratory equipment. The police were less than thorough in their search, and Bear got some of his Hell’s Angels contacts to go in and recover items the police had missed. He also sold the Hell’s Angels some of the LSD he had stashed well away from his Orinda facility. Bear resumed working for the Grateful Dead as their sound engineer until the case came to court in September 1969, and the Orinda defendants were convicted and given three consecutive one-year sentences. Bear Stanley would be confined to a federal prison from 1970 to 1972.

Scully needed investment money to obtain enough raw materials to set up another lab. Bear suggested he try Billy Hitchcock, newly ensconced at a retreat in Sausalito, California. The authors of both Acid Dreams and The Brotherhood claim that Hitchcock only agreed to loan Scully the money to restart LSD production on condition that he dropped a plan to give the product away free. It is true that in October 1967 Scully asked Hitchcock to finance the production and free distribution of enough LSD (about 200kg) for everyone in the world who wanted it to try it. Hitchcock did not feel able to finance the plan, because he didn’t have enough cash to do so (much of his money was tied up in a trust); and because he believed that people would not value something they didn’t have to pay for. Scully recalls ‘he did loan me a small amount of money ($11,000) at 300% interest to help finance the next lab. But he was in no way “Mr. Big” and he didn’t dictate any terms to me or anyone else for making LSD’.

The British Connection

Nick Sand and Tim Scully searched for European sources of lysergic acid and ergot alkaloids. During the years in which it was still legal to do so, Englishman Michael Druce had supplied the Millbrook fraternity with LSD by mail-order through Michael O’Dwyer Ltd, a small chemical company based in Hampshire, England, in which he held a majority share.

After the Swiss Sandoz company restricted sales to the U.S. in 1962, Druce imported LSD from the Czechoslovakian state-owned pharmaceutical firm, Chemapol, via its export wing, Exico. The Czechs, no longer bothered by the expired Sandoz patent, were producing LSD in 1 milligram vials for small orders or in 100-milligram ampoules of powder for bulk purchases. During this period, Druce’s future partner, Ronald Craze, was handling Exico’s business in London. After use of LSD was made illegal in Britain, Druce stopped exporting it. But, his prospective American customers wondered, would he be prepared to procure and export raw materials and specialist lab equipment for LSD production, if the end-users were beyond British jurisdiction? Hitchcock suggested to Tim Scully that Druce might be amenable to such an idea. As it turned out, he was. Druce and Craze were established commodity brokers and traders, storing merchandise against price rises until it could be sold on at a profit. Specialising in chemicals, they could – unlike Sand and Scully – approach producers direct. Scully, with Donald Munson, an expert organiser of smuggling operations, arranged to get the chemicals to the United States.

Scully, with the money supplied by Billy Hitchcock, was able to make his first purchases from Druce in late January 1968. Scully paid Druce $9,000 for 2.8 kilos of ergotamine tartrate, which was sent to the United States, mis-labelled as ‘CQ equipment for gas chromatography’ to fool the customs, and picked up at a chemical firm in South Carolina, by someone on behalf of ‘Tim Philips’, the name Scully used in London.* At same time Druce supplied Scully with 250 grams of lysergic acid. This was sent to the US via a courier, Ayman de Sales, who smuggled it to Montréal and then to New York. However, when Scully tried to use the lysergic acid to make LSD he found it was bogus – about as useful as talcum powder. Scully appealed to Druce for a replacement. A few weeks later Druce managed to locate a kilo of the real thing real and offered it to Scully for the cost of three quarters of a kilo. As Scully didn’t have the money to pay for it he shared the kilo with Nick Sand. Sand who bought 500 grams and Scully got a good deal in paying for 250 grams and getting 500. When Sand and Scully went to collect the kilo of lysergic acid from Druce in England, Scully brought along for good measure a melting point tester which could verify that the product was sound. Some of the consignment was stashed in a Zürich safe deposit box; and some was concealed in a teddy bear which Scully mailed to his mother’s address in the US.

Scully Feels the Heat

In February 1968 Tim Scully, with assistants Rory Condon and Ruth Pahkala, opened a second Denver lab at 1050 South Elmira Street. The house was rented by Condon under an alias. In the LSD purification process, Scully was able to demonstrate a phenomenon known as ‘piezoluminescence’, which had been worked out by Owsley on a small-scale. In piezoluminescence, LSD crystals are so pure that they give off flashes of light when shaken, stirred or crushed. In the spring of 1968, Scully, using the ergotamine tartrate he had bought from Druce, made about 20 grams of LSD in his second Denver lab and made an arrangement with Sand to have it tableted. Scully believes that Sand sold some of it to the Brotherhood of Eternal Love for distribution.

In June, Scully took a trip from Denver to San Francisco. Unfortunately, while he was gone the grass on his lawn began to turn dry yellow. The house, being in a suburb where city water was not yet available, had its own well and septic tank; but the well pump failed and the grass couldn’t be watered. The neighbours, who liked everyone in the street to keep up appearances with nice green lawns, were becoming restless and curious. Scully’s two assistants flew to San Francisco to report the problem. Scully told them to return and get the pump fixed. But before they got back their landlord, a Mr Chance, was out and about looking over the various properties he owned in the neighbourhood when he noticed that the lawn had turned brown. Mr Chance walked round the empty property and noticed a very bad smell, which he feared was emanating from a dead body. He called the police, who broke in and traced the smell to spilt chemicals in the basement.

The next day, police scientists identified small samples of very high-quality LSD left there. In San Francisco, Scully, after hearing nothing from his assistants about the problem with the lawn, telephoned his Denver lab. When a voice answered ‘Scully residence’, he knew immediately it had been raided, because he could only have been identified from documents lying around bearing his real name. As Scully didn’t know where his assistants were he couldn’t warn them to stay away, although he hoped reports of the raid in the local press might have alerted them. But four days after the laboratory had been discovered, Condon and Pakhula returned, blissfully unaware of what had happened, and were arrested. Scully, having escaped arrest, lost all his lab equipment. However, the raw materials he and Nick Sand had bought from Druce and Craze were not captured in the bust; and Scully still had some chemicals he had ordered through Nick’s company, D&H Custom Research. Nick Sand eventually agreed to finance setting up a new lab for making LSD in return for Tim Scully teaching him the process he had learned from Owsley Stanley.

Next up: (continuing this chapter) The LSD chemists team up with the Brotherhood of Eternal Love.

Psychedelic Tricksters: LSD, Owsley and the Grateful Dead

Poster 1966

2 December 2023. Over the next month or so I’ll be serialising a chapter from Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD. (Amazon. Also on Kindle: HERE), published in 2022. For this chapter I am especially indebted to Tim Scully’s extensive and generous correspondence with me between September 2019 and May 2020. – D.B.

Chapter Six – The New Prohibition in the USA versus the Acid Underground

‘To live is to be hunted.’ Philip K Dick, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said

Psychedelic Alchemy

Between the early 1960s and early 1970s at least 10 million Americans took LSD. They were supplied by scores of underground LSD laboratories, which sprouted up in various parts of the United States between 1963 and 1973. About fifty of these labs are known about; some of them were in operation for just a few months, others for years. Apart from the ‘known’ labs (which are usually only known about because of prosecutions), there must have been many others, which made large quantities of LSD, but were never discovered. For the purposes of this book I would emphasize that the LSD chemists who feature in the following pages by no means produced most of LSD in the USA; they were just the ones unfortunate enough to become ‘famous’ (or ‘infamous) for their work. As a general rule, manufacturers of illegal substances, not wanting to end up in court, avoid publicity. One of them in particular, achieved ‘legendary’ status as ‘Mr LSD’ without ever wanting it.

He was born August Owsley Stanley III (1935-2011), grandson of a US senator from Kentucky, and is more commonly known as ‘Owsley’, or to his friends, as ‘Bear Stanley’. In 1964 Owsley took LSD for the first time in the form of a somewhat impure green goo, made by Douglas George, an amateur chemist who distributed it free in Berkeley. Later that same year, Owsley tried a full-dose Sandoz LSD capsule and was so impressed that he sought out all of the published material he could find on LSD manufacture.

Owsley studied a book on alchemy, entitled The Kybalion. Published in 1908, its authors (the pseudonymous ‘Three Initiates’) claimed it was based on the teachings of Hermes Trismegistus, the semi-mythical Egyptian (some say Greek) sage. What impressed Owsley was the book’s thesis that the alchemic ‘transformation of substances’ was purely allegorical. In Owsley’s interpretation, ‘The lead and the gold is the lead of the primitive nature into the gold of the enlightened man. Alchemy didn’t talk about lead into gold until it had to deal with the church in the early Middle Ages’. The Kybalion ‘was perfect because it put into total context all the things I had experienced on acid. The universe is a creation entirely within a being that is outside time and space, and dreaming what we are. Everything is connected, because it’s all being created by this one consciousness. And we are tiny reflections of the mind that is creating the universe. That’s what alchemy says’.

Between the years of 1950 and 1965, over 1,000 scientific papers on the potential therapeutic effects of LSD and other hallucinogens were turned out by researchers. During the same period some 40,000 patients were treated with LSD therapy as treatment for mental illnesses. But in 1962, the U.S. Congress passed new drug safety regulations and the Food and Drug Administration began to clamp down on research into the effects of LSD as well as its manufacture and distribution. Owsley however, was not deterred. In the winter of 1964 Owsley bought 40 grams of lysergic acid from the Sigma chemical company and made his first batch of LSD at the Green Factory in Berkeley. In February 1965 the Green Factory was raided by the authorities and Owsley Stanley moved his lab equipment to the basement of a friend’s house in Los Angeles.

So far, Owsley’s LSD hadn’t been pure enough to crystallize, but he soon solved this problem by mastering chromatography – a technique for separating out a mixture of chemicals. With his partner, Melissa Cargill, he set up another LSD lab at a rented a house on Lafler Road, Los Angeles, near California State University. He bought lysergic acid from the Cyclo chemical company and made several grams of pure crystalline LSD amounting to at least 30,000 doses. These were put into gelatin capsules and sold by mail order. The method of putting LSD into capsules had its drawbacks. It was difficult to get equal-sized doses into the capsules because they had to be filled by pressing the dry powder into them on a flat surface, such as a mirror; but the amount of powder that got into each capsule could vary significantly, depending on how the pressing was done. Also, unscrupulous wholesalers could remove the content of the capsule, dilute or counterfeit it, and put it into a larger number of capsules.

Owsley, in his determination to market a standard dose of 300 μg (micrograms) with a solid promise of purity, switched from capsules to tablets, which were far more accurate and consistent in dose size. Owsley obtained triturate boards to produce uniform dose sizes in a tablet form which would be very difficult to counterfeit. There remained however, the problem that in the final drying process the active ingredient in the moisture tended to migrate to the surface of the tablet, where it could be undermined by sweat from handling or exposure to UV light. He solved this problem by dispersing the LSD content in tribasic calcium phosphate, a chemical which could adhere itself to the LSD strongly enough to prevent any migration to the surface of the tablet during the evaporation of the solvent. The phosphate accounted for 10 per cent of the total weight of the tablet; the remaining 90 per cent was made up with lactose.

The Los Angeles drug squad soon learned about Owsley Stanley’s activities after he sold a gram of LSD to the guitarist, Perry Lederman. After Lederman told everyone he sold it to that Owsley Stanley had made it, the drug squad put Owsley under surveillance. They went through his trash, where they found letters from his mail-order customers, and also obtained copies of his orders for lysergic acid from the Cyclo company. Owsley and the Grateful Dead On December 11th, 1965, Owsley attended a Grateful Dead ‘Acid Test’ gig at Muir Beach, Marin County. Tripping heavily, he found the Dead to be ‘magic personified’, and ‘the most amazing group ever’. On January 29, Owsley attended another Dead performance and Acid Test at Sound City, a San Francisco radio studio. The band members, impressed by Owsley’s enthusiasm and resourcefulness, suggested he become their manager. Owsley insisted he would be of more use as their sound engineer. The Dead, like most other rock bands of the time, were using equipment which made unwanted noises and produced a poorly balanced overall sound. After the Dead took up his offer, Owsley introduced state-of-the art equipment such as high-quality cables and connections which minimized hum and hiss from the instruments, and big hi-fi ‘Voice of the Theater’ speakers for the PA system. At the Sound City Acid Test Owsley, having met Tim Scully a few weeks earlier, offered him and his friend Don Douglas a chance to travel with him and the Grateful Dead to Los Angeles and work with him doing electronics and roadie work for the band.

Owsley had experience of engineering in radio and television, but he didn’t have enough knowledge of electronic circuit design to implement his ideas for customised equipment. Scully had the technical know-how; and he also wanted to make LSD with Owsley. Scully, born 1944 in Berkeley, California, had studied math and physics at the University of California until 1963. From 1963 to 1965 he was employed by Atomic Laboratories Inc. as an electronics design consultant. In 1965 he took evening classes at University of California in advanced calculus and atomic physics. On April 15, 1965, he took LSD for the first time. In late-1965 advertisements began to appear in California posing the question, ‘Can you pass the acid test?’ Properly defined, the ‘Acid Tests’, were events with music played by the Grateful Dead, LSD supplied by Owsley, organized by the Merry Pranksters, a group of Californian pagans gathered together by Ken Kesey, author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Sometimes a Great Notion.

Kesey and the Pranksters traversed the country in an old school bus, repainted in psychedelic colours with the words, ‘Caution! Weird Load’, inscribed on the back. Neal Cassady, former road-buddy of Jack Kerouac, went along as driver. The Pranksters’ stated mission was to re-experience America as a ‘trip’ and to ‘prank’ its citizens out of their conformist conditioning by means of noisy, rude, but colourful behaviour and LSD tripping. As it turned out, even non-conformists, like the Millbrook community in Poughkeepsie found the Pranksters too wild; especially after Kesey ‘adopted’ a chapter of the Hell’s Angels as his bus-escort. According to Richard Alpert, when the Pranksters’ visited Millbrook it felt like being in ‘a pastoral Indian village invaded by a whooping cowboy band of Wild West saloon carousers’. The Pranksters’ events featured Owsley’s acid disguised as a vat of Orange Kool-Aid bearing the warning label, ‘Electric’. Owsley had serious doubts about what the Pranksters were up to. He thought the Pranksters’ practice of ‘Magic’ had its dangers:

‘Kesey was playing with something he did not understand. I said to him, “You guys are fucking around with something that people have known about forever. It’s sometimes called witchcraft, and it’s extremely dangerous. You’re dealing with part of the unconscious mind that they used to define as angels and devils. You have to be very careful, because there are all these warnings. All the occult literature about ceremonial magic warns about being very careful when you start exploring these areas in the mind.” And they laughed at me’.

Tim Scully, in a memoir of his time with Owsley and the Grateful Dead, describes one of the early Acid-Tests in California:

‘Everyone paid admission: all the people in the acid test, all the members of the Grateful Dead, and anyone who was seduced off the street. It was all very democratic. And also potentially problematic. At the Watts acid test, for example, folks who had never heard of LSD came in, drank some Kool-Aid, and started getting high. If you were surrounded by strobe lights, with Pranksters doing things with their sound systems – all designed to disorient –the experience could be really fun, if that’s what youwere into. But it could be terrifying if you didn’t knowwhat to expect’.

Scully installed transformers to reduce the impedance of the signals being transmitted through long cables, which otherwise picked up excessive 60 cycle hum from nearby power lines. He designed and built a mixing desk to receive the modified signals and output them into both the PA and the tape recorder. From January to July 1966 Scully lived and worked with Grateful Dead and their entourage, designing and installing numerous other technical innovations as well as taking on roadie responsibilities. In March 1966 in Los Angeles a group of hippies were sitting in a Cantor’s cafe known as ‘Capsule Corner’, amiably chatting to photo-journalist Lawrence Schiller of Life magazine, who was working with correspondent Gerald Moore for an article on the new hippie sub-culture. The mood darkened however, when a young woman came in brandishing a peanut jar full of LSD tablets and triumphantly announced, ‘Look what I just bought from Owsley’. Bob Hamilton, a friend of Scully’s, rushed to a phone-box and called Owsley, telling him he should clean up his premises. On March 25 1966, Life’s front cover appeared with headline, ‘The Exploding Effect of the Mind Drug that got Out of Control: LSD’. The coverage in Life set off a hysterical reaction in the rest of the media.

By the end of July 1966, Owsley (now calling himself ‘Bear Stanley’) had run out of both money and LSD. He decided to set up another lab. But he had earlier agreed with the Grateful Dead that he would not work in a lab while traveling or living with them. Also, by then the band had reluctantly decided that the new improved electronic gear he had supplied them with had become a ‘logistical nightmare’ in terms of setting up and dismantling at every gig. Owsley sold the new equipment, bought the band new Fender amps and speakers, and then went off to work in his lab in Point Richmond.

Next up: (continuing this chapter) Owsley feels the heat and withdraws from LSD production and withdraws. His apprentice, Tim Scully, goes underground, Nick Sand moves west and teams up with him.

1965: The Birth of the British ‘Underground’

David Black

11 October 2023

In September 1965 Timothy Leary sent Michael Hollingshead, the Englishman who introduced him to LSD during the Harvard psychedelics project, on a mission. Hollingshead flew into London with 5000 trips of LSD and a list of things to do. Firstly, Hollingshead was to rent the Albert Hall for a psychedelic jamboree with rock bands and poets, with Leary himself hosting the event in his role as the High Priest of LSD. This plan never came off, because of Leary’s bust for marijuana possession in the US at the end of 1965.

Another part of the mission was set up a centre for running LSD sessions and promoting psychedelia in the arts. Hollingshead, with help from old-Etonians, Desmond O’Brien and Joey Mellen, turned a Belgravia flat into the ‘World Psychedelic Centre’. For their LSD sessions, they used the new Leary/Alpert/Metzner book, The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead, as a guide. Hollingshead thought ‘that London would indeed become the centre for a world psychedelic movement’. According to Hollingshead, the World Psychedelic Centre clientele,

…represented perhaps the seminal non-conformism of England’s mid-sixties intelligentsia – not the evangelical non-conformism of such as the Millbrook sect, but an intellectualized form of psychedelic enlightenment, of which popularised Learyism was largely a culmination – that freed so many of England’s educated people from the rigidity of social and class and cultural patterns which had outwardly been solidifying into right-wing Toryism. Their rebellion was typical of this period; the Establishment was the enemy…

One of the reasons Michael Hollingshead gave for coming to London in 1965 was the tendency of the London acid heads – such as those around Alex Trocchi — to politicise, rather than spiritualise, the psychedelic experience. As he put it in The Man Who Turned On the World:

From what I had heard in letters and conversations, the psychedelic movement in England was small and badly informed. It appeared that those who took LSD did so as a consciously defiant anti-authoritarian gesture. The spiritual content of the psychedelic experience was being overlooked.

Hollingshead had been sending shipments of LSD to Trocchi, who distributed it to his contacts in what was to become the London cultural ‘Underground’. Trocchi, born in Glasgow in 1925, had moved to Paris in 1952, where he edited Merlin, an English-language literary magazine. In its pages, Merlin featured contributions from avant-guard writers such as Jean Genet, Eugene Ionesco and Samuel Becket — who, at the time, were unable to get their work published anywhere else in English. Trocchi himself, surrounded by young expatriate American writers, such as Terry Southern and George Plimpton, was, in the words of Greil Marcus, ‘seen as a man of towering literary genius, fated to cut a swath through the world’.

Whatever his differences with Trocchi, Hollingshead certainly arrived in London at the right time for a ‘revolution in consciousness’. As Charles Radcliffe wrote in his memoirs:

“The possibility of real change no longer seemed remote. Towards the end of 1965, there was a definite, almost tangible quickening of the generational pulse, ever widening interests and excitement in myself and everyone I knew. Every day there were more of us to know… Many former ‘politicos’ sensed that ‘politics’ wasn’t over but was simply one of many items on the burner. More and more people were talking about LSD, the mind-expanding drug lysergic acid diethylamide 25 [as]… a serious inward voyage of discovery, not to be taken lightly… LSD was legal but for how long? And how could I get some?”

(Charles Radcliffe, Don’t Start Me Talking: Subculture, Situationism and the Sixties)

The British Underground achieved critical mass in June 1965 with the International Poetry Congress at Albert Hall, which drew 5,000 people. The event was hosted by Alex Trocchi who, having been expelled by Guy Debord from Situationist International, had launched a project called Sigma, which aimed to build

‘a new decentralised organisation of writers, painters, sculptors, musicians, dancers, physicists, bio-chemists, philosophers, neurologists, engineers, and whatnots, of every race and nationality’.

To co-oordinate a ‘catalogue of such a reservoir of talent, intelligence and power’ would be ‘of itself a spur to our imagination’. For London he planned to found a

‘living-gallery-workshop-auditorium-happening situation where conferences and encounters are to be undertaken… It will be our window on the metropolis, a sigma-centre… an experimental situation in which what is happening cannot be described in terms of conventional categories (which it transcends)… Certain hallucinatory properties of drugs make them central and urgently relevant to any imaginable enquiry into the mystery of the human mind. Unfortunately, ignorance, hysteria and sensationalism have contributed to making this largely a police matter’.

Trocchi believed that psychiatrist RD Laing’s ideas on the usefulness of LSD in treating schizophrenia were ‘entirely in line with those proposed by Sigma’. Trocchi planned to produce a book titled ‘Drugs of the Mind’ with Laing and Willam Burroughs; but like so many of Trocchi’s projects, it was never carried through. This was partly because Trocchi was distracted by his heroin habit, and proved incapable of keeping Sigma’s finances separate from his own. In 1965, Trocchi did, however. pull off the Albert Hall readings, which gave birth to the term, ‘Underground’. The event was filmed by Peter Whitehead, who entitled his 33-minute documentary Wholly Communion. It featured, in order of appearance (all men; such were the times): Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Michael Horovitz, Gregory Corso, Harry Fainlight, Adrian Mitchell, Christopher Logue, Alexander Trocchi, Ernst Jandl, and Allen Ginsberg. It can be seen on YouTube HERE

Harry Fainlight

See David Black, Psychedelic Tricksters: A True Secret History of LSD (London: 2022]

Memories of Revolution: King Mob, the Situationists and Beyond

David Wise

Editor’s note: In response to my review of Eric-John Russell’s translation of Jaime Semprún’s book, A Gallery of Recuperation: On the Merits of Slandering Charlatans, Swindlers and Frauds (first published in 1976 as Précis de récupération: illustre de nombreux exemples tires de l’histoire recente) David Wise, co-founder of King Mob, the English radical group of the late 1960s/early ‘70s, which was connected to Guy Debord and the Situationist International., has contributed the following.

FROM LONDON TO LISBON

I enjoyed reading David Black’s Substack comments on Eric-John Russell’s recent translation and re-publication of Jaime Semprún’s Précis de récupération. Decades ago I found myself in agreement with Semprún’s withering dismissal of post-modernism as represented by so-called thinkers like Michel Foucault, Jean-François Lyotard, Andre Glucksmann, Giles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. After ‘liberating’ (meaning going beyond monetization rather than ‘thieving’) a fair amount of these authors’ oeuvre from the UK’s ‘nintellectual’ bookshops, I myself, along with other clued-in mates, had had enough of seeing their books stacked up prominently in front of us. These surface commentators, with their endless watering down of the rejuvenating spirit of the May ’68 revolution in France, were being presented as real cutting edge subversive critique; when in truth, the real McCoys couldn’t get a look in with English language publishers.

Although I welcomed Précis de récupération as a breath of fresh air, I was cautious about Semprún’s attacks on Cornelius Castoriadis and ‘Ratgeb’ (Raoul Vaneigem), both of whom once had  meaningful connections with Guy Debord. Sadly, mention of English speaking recuperation was absent, as basically the UK, in comparison with much of Europe and even the USA, was backward regarding the explosions of the late 1960s – so much so that the majority of ‘thinkers’ here wouldn’t know what the fek you were talking about. Hardly surprising then that our merry band was defined by our hatred of the “right little/tight little island” Little Englander mentality of both right and left wing (although we never realised that these tendencies were going to have such an abominable outcome decades later, what with Brexit and the like).

In retrospect and on a general level,  I think Précis de récupération marked the final moment of Semprún’s hero worship of Debord. After that, Semprún took a different radical path as he morphed into the creator of the very influential ‘group’ cum publisher of Éditions de l’Encyclopédie des Nuisances (‘Nuisances‘ meaning destructive, dangerous substances). On the simplest of levels, Debord and Semprún were very different characters, i.e. Semprún didn’t really fall out with people (at least not in the same way Debord did). I don’t think Guy ever forgave him for walking away, causing Guy to henceforth endlessly obsess about this ‘scally’; finally denouncing him as a ‘mediatique’ in his last ‘book’ Cette Mauvais Reputation. (I remember Michel Prigent – the publisher of Chronos Press and Principia Dialectica in London – not really liking Debord’s final book, although he was somewhat nervous about saying so). Other friends, in France, mainly around Os Cangaceiros, clearly noted that Semprún had been unfairly rubbished as he wasn’t involved with the media and had even gotten rid of films he’d produced and acted in when a youngster.

Around the same time as Précis de récupération was published,Jaime was also involved with radical social struggles erupting in Portugal and then Spain after the death of the fascist dictator General Franco. Practically,  he did so in a somewhat clandestine way, in and around a group – if one can call it that – aptly named Los Incontrolados (The Uncontrollables). 

First though. something of a detour. The end of the ‘glorious’ late 1960s was somewhat marked world-wide by a ‘collapse’ of its protagonists, ourselves included. Dazed and depressed, overcome with a sense of failure, we were floundering, desperate again to reignite our fiery passions, as well as desperately searching for a wide-ranging and nuanced re-think. Some individuals – rapidly or cautiously but slowly – sold-out, while others destroyed themselves with drink and drugs. Also, there were the suicides, which were really hard to bear as it was often the finest individuals who decided to end it all.

Others fled to other countries. Ex-King Mobber, Phil Meyler, was one such person. After a tumultuous, exhilarating time in the late 60s/early 1970s, journeying between London, Ireland and the USA, Phil seemed to abandon everything and, after sometime desolately moping around in east London, he suddenly upped-sticks and disappeared to Portugal where he found casual paid work teaching English as a foreign language. His first letters to me in London from Lisbon were desolate and harrowing… then, then, then on the 25th of April 1974 the ‘Revolution of the Carnations’ broke out and the streets and work places erupted amidst the ferment in and around the final overthrow of Salazar’s/Caetano’s 50 year old fascist dictatorship. Phil’s letters transformed overnight; becoming absolutely fascinating. Moreover, Phil and I had been best mates throughout the late 1960s; reinforced by the fact we were from similar working class backgrounds, had little money and no prospect of inherited wealth coming our way. Now, whoosh, here was a rejuvenated Phil sending me one stunning letter after another about what was going down on the Iberian Peninsula. In response, I just wanted to get this information out there in the English speaking parts of the globe.

In the following months, frequent visits to Portugal became essential; the country having become a hub for all kinds of radical tendencies, with many rebels from different European countries enthusiastically proclaiming Situationist ideas – amongst other persuasions. Described at the time as ‘revolutionary tourism’, (as against the typically banal, often hated, mass consumer tourism) it was a 24/7 fascinating mix of thought, action, love and alcohol. Already there was an emerging tendency beginning to put an emphasis on the need to update Marx’s critique of value, etc, with clued-in individuals saying the Situationists had missed out on this essential factor, thus implicitly raising the question: ‘what steps do we take from here?’. 

The immediate outcome was that Phil put together a book in Portuguese and English entitled, Portugal, The Impossible Revolution. It was a producedby Solidarity (the Castoriadis-inspired off-spring in the UK of Socialisme ou Barbarie). I was able to fund it, as I was earning really good money as a plasterer on building sites, had no family to support and as a squatter I had a rent-free place to live. The book captured the warp and woof of the uprising, that unmistakable, ‘I was there’ dimension, emphasising at times its delightfully crazy essence. Little did we know at the time that Jaime Semprún had also put together a book called La sociale guerre au Portugal, published by Champ Libre in France (the company owned by Debord’s rich friend, Gérard Lebovici (who was murdered in complicated circumstances which I won’t go into here). The book was immediately proclaimed as the finest critique and evaluation of the Portuguese uprising, though to my mind it was touch and go in comparison with Phil’s hands-on unruly passionism, which captured the emotional euphoria of the uprising. As I put down in a notebook at the time:

“I certainly had a memorable New Year in Lisbon in 1976-7. A crowd of us got drunk in a workers’ tasca  which ended up with a conga winding through the adjacent streets. It was nearly dawn before the cavorting ceased and then some of us decided to go to the local zoo for some reason even though we knew it would be closed. We went with some vague notice of liberating wild nature as happened during the Paris Commune of 1871. Climbing the fences into the zoo we were in a mood to fraternise directly with the animals on display and proceeded to do so. Although we couldn’t get into the tigers den we certainly were able to stroke the creatures a little as we could the giraffes, etc. But then it was easy to get into the hippopotamuses enclave. A big hippo with such friendly, benign eyes opened its mouth wide and laughingly the assembled drunks dared “the mad Englishman”(Me) to put his head in the hippo’s mouth. Well I did and everybody gasped. BUT THAT WAS IT,OVER AND OUT. Armed police had been called and they immediately came for us and later, we were banned from ever going again into a Portuguese zoo. But the incident had gotten out and about on the alternative grapevine and years later people were still sending me tiny toy hippos with their mouths open. Evidently – in reality – hippos instantly bite heads off……. but how was I supposed to know that???”

More importantly, the atmosphere in Portugal started overlapping with what was happening in Spain after the death of General Franco and the impending demise of the fascist dictatorship. Shortly after returning to London, Phil sent me through the post a small Spanish pamphlet which had knocked him out. It was named, “Manuscrito encontrado en Vitoria”  (A Manuscript found in Vitoria). Like Phil, I also thought the pamphlet was terrific.Then he ‘found’ another pamphlet and then another- all with different titles and all anonymous!  All we had to go on was the name: Los Incontrolados…. and for the life of us, for what seemed like ages, we simply couldn’t find out the names of the individuals who’d written them. One by one Phil forwarded these pamphlets to me in London and we then decided to translate and publish them. Needless to say our command of the Spanish language wasn’t that good and my twin bro’ Stuart Wise – who did most of the translation – also  wasn’t that much better. There again, there was no one around to help us: educationally we were the old notorious 11-Plus failures, not worthy of ‘proper’ education and hampered by the fact our “English” was truly awol (Phil being from Dublin and us from County Durham and Yorkshire). Who could we to turn to? Comatose academics who hadn’t grasped Lautreamont’s pre-Surrealist maxim: ‘The new tremors are running through the atmosphere and all you need is the courage to face them’? Thus, in consequence the book with all its somewhat gobbledygook translatese, Wildcat Spain Encounters Democracy was kind of stillborn! 

It’s worth saying here that ‘revolutionary anonymity’ in the mid to late 1970s rapidly seemed to acquire quite a profile, or rather, anti-profile. In a way it had become a principled gesture against the horrendous groundswell of stardom and names in lights which was taking off like never before, as post modernism and its academic parade imbibed the accoutrements of pop culture with the gradual eclipse of the revolutionary spirit of 1968. It was all for the sake of money and more money, preparing the way for today’s kleptocratic rule.  For all like us, a name didn’t matter and any pseudonym was just as good as another. It was the hoped-for inspirational content that mattered, mirroring the fact you lived your life in an anti-spectacular, non-touchy/feely way. Thus, that’s how our pamphlets were signed. As for Phil there was another pressing reason; he slightly altered his last name from Meyler to Mailer – a la Norman Mailer the famous contemporary American hipster writer – as the Portuguese state was rapidly becoming hell-bent on getting rid of subversive foreign undesirables.

The town of Vitoria (Victory) in the Spanish Basque country became a brilliant hot spot in the mid-to late 1970s as home to an autonomous worker revolt which was quite astounding in its breadth, hence the nuanced ‘victory’ pun in the subsequent A4 pamphlet by Los Incontrolados. As a consequence, a few years later we discovered that the principal authors of Los Incontrolados were Jaime Semprun and Miguel Amoros. Subsequently, Semprun’s post situationist radical eco-orientation was to have a profound influence on us although contact was kind of ‘in and out ‘and mostly – at a distance. Miguel’s critique of the destructive ultra- commodification of music was contemporaneous with my own pamphlet, The End of Music. Inevitably, Miguel lamented our inadequate Spanish translations. Unbeknown to us, at the same time Miguel Amoros was slowly writing a really fascinating account of their differences with Debord, etc, (much of which has ended up in the web pages of Libcom.org). And finally (for me) I discovered that Jaime was the son of the Spanish/French novelist, Jorge Semprun, whose dissident-communist writings I’d had a lot of respect for in mid 1960s Newcastle. Lo and behold in post- Franco Spain, Jorge, who had been expelled by the underground Spanish Communist Party, had become a literary celebrity, and was set to become Spanish Minister of Culture (!). I was horrified and later gratified to find out that Jaime would have nothing to do with his Dad, having always detested his membership of the Communist Party and no doubt much else besides.

And yes, I’d become nervous of Debord and subsequent “Our Party” Debordism. After our pamphlet on the 1981 riots in the UK, A Summer with a Thousand Julyswas translated into French I was subsequently was invited by Guy Debord to visit him in Champot in the remote French countryside where he was then living. I’d be accompanied by Michel Prigent. But I had to turn the invite down as I knew I’d completely fek-up, especially when I’d hit the booze to calm my nerves. I knew individual sentences in the pamphlet would be picked on and obsessed over (as was the regular pattern) and I didn’t have the character armour to resist  this interrogation thus, ‘[a sadder and a wiser man (David Wise) rose the following morn.’

ECO-ACTIVISM V. GREENWASHING

By the late-1980s, Jaime Semprún’s eco critique was getting really cutting edge the more he acknowledged the profundity of the English language description of that devious con and substitute for authentic eco involvement becoming known as  ‘greenwashing’. Jaime was also one of the first individuals to call out the duplicitous horrors of a double dealing ‘Nature Bureaucracy’, made up of all the species protection societies and the like. Initially we naïvely thought these bodies were on our side when engaging in actions to genuinely increase and enrich biodiversity, only to find out they were some of the nastiest – forever calling the police on our activities. The realisation of such a truth was shattering both for Jaime and ourselves. 

What  followed somewhat later for Jaime and Co was radical eco-action on the Larzac Plateau in south west France in the mid-1990s. This also involved the former-Situationist International member, René Riesel, who had played such a significant part in May ’68 in France. At the time I was also getting a lot of fresh comment from other friends involved, again mainly from Os Cangaceiros. Suffice to mention here one amusing incident. There was some kind of festive eco get together in a small town on the Larzac Plateau and stalls were erected. Stalwarts of Éditions de l’Encyclopédie des Nuisances in souped-up militant attire turned up really ready for action against the brutal French police. First though, they had to put together a stall. Most of the activists couldn’t do it as (it seemed) none of them had ever used a hammer or screwdriver (they were so ‘middle class’, or at least ‘middle class’ in practical disposition). In exasperation, Riesel (who by then had become a neo-peasant farmer) jumped in and assembled a stall made up of wooden planks within minutes. Everybody present had a good laugh….. Nonetheless, Nuisances was quickly to acquire a huge influence especially regarding the future French ZADS (Zones a Defendre). And subsequently we might ask: how could the comradely alliances around Earth Uprising and the Sainte-Soline Battle of the Basins of March 2023 have come about without this ‘distant’ history?

One more comment haphazardly comes to mind. Michel Prigent kind of liked Jaime Semprún, though he said to me he didn’t like the way he ‘supported the Unabomber terrorist’ (Ted Kaczynski) in the mid-west United States. As for myself, I balked at the terrorist name tag. Though I didn’t approve of the haphazard parcel bombs and was leery about innocent casualties, I liked some of the Unabomber’s writings.

Ah, but then, slowly but surely on a more general, historical level, a morphing Situationist perspective was disappearing quite rapidly after say, 2015. What was happening? Miguel Amoros was of the opinion that a dreadful counter-revolution was finally taking place especially in English speaking countries. Yes, it certainly feels like that as today you can’t find traces anywhere of the Situationist experience in what now passes contemporary revolutionary critique. As an interesting aside to all this – even though again utterly out of place – the writings of Alèssi Dell’ Umbria really have edge, even though, as far as I know he, also, never mentions the Situationists. I’ve been told this guy, who is from Marseilles, was a fellow traveller of Os Cangaceiros and has written some really interesting tracts around major social upheavals in France over the last 20 years or so. It’s certainly true that his C’est La Guerre. written in the first few months of 2023 is so far the best account of those exhilarating moments. And there is also an excellent tract on the Gilets Jaunes disturbances in Marseilles in 2019. I was asked by Jack-de-Montreuil if I could translate into English Alessi’s recent major theoretical contribution named Antimatrix. I rapidly found out that It was certainly a dense and very interesting text and by my reckoning a relevant update to The Society of the Spectacle without ever mentioning the latter’s existence… But I wonder if my French and background knowledge are really up to it. Whatever, it would be excellent if say, MIT Press Ltd could publish a selection of Dell’Umbria’s writings in English.   

Sadly, Jaime Semprún died in 2010 of a cerebral haemorrhage, aged 63. His death was untimely, but in truth his writings in later years had become a lot more sombre and it may be that he found the derailing of his radical eco experiments heart breaking. In something of a final missive Jaime said all he could do now was cultivate his own back garden. We indeed felt something of the same, re broken hearts, even though we had no back  – or front – garden to cultivate as we lived in sub-standard social housing. We, on the contrary, had turned our attention to scruffy, gloriously weed-ridden public space with the intention of vastly increasing their inherent bio-diversity. We never asked permission of the powers that be  – usually town councils – because we knew we’d be told to fuck off for not possessing requisite qualifications, etc. Constantly under attack from officialdom and the police we nevertheless over the years produced some remarkable spaces which even moronic bureaucrats had to grudgingly admit was the case.  

This was especially true of our eco intervention between 2010-17 in the Bradford Canal and Shipley’s ‘Industrial Gorge’ in West Yorkshire – an arena which had obsessed John Ruskin in the late 19th century. That encounter, regarding greenwashing, was a brutal eye opener, as the authorities came for us with no holes barred, deploying thuggery and threats of jail regarding our eco interventions. We also sprayed up on various stone walls in the gorge some relatively recent lucid quotes from Miguel Amoros on the subject of greenwashing, only to find them jet sprayed out a few days later by council goons.(In retrospect I think Miguel knew about these slogans and was pleased we had given them prominence). Also our eco interventions over the last few years on Wormwood Scrubs in West London were somewhat simultaneously explained by ourselves through placards, bird boxes and the like hung high up in trees – many around the subject of ‘suicide capitalism’, which was basically an ecological concept elucidated by Jaime Semprun. A few months ago I could have directed you the reader to our website, The Revolt Against Plenty, where photos alongside texts explained the concept. Then kaput: there was nothing except total wipe-out! The brutal redaction of thewebsite in spring 2023 meant all of this history has now been liquidated along with so much else besides and now can only be accessed via The Wayback Machine archives. Why wasn’t a reason given for such brutal action? Why did absolute silence reign? Finally, I came to the conclusion that basically, it’s a sign of the brutal reaction which is today spreading throughout the world. And if you aren’t rich enough to hire a good lawyer the attitude is you can just fuck off as we can do what we like with you; not forgetting that law centres for those surviving at the sharp end disappeared yonks ago. Left in a catastrophic dilemma, just what is there to do about such fiendish acts when reaction is becoming so omnipotent everywhere and all emancipating hope is rapidly dwindling? It’s beyond heart-breaking. 

Dave Wise (together with the inseparable shadow of my twin bro’ Stu’ Wise who is forever and forever by my side).

Review: Jaime Semprun’s ‘Gallery of Recuperation’

By David Black

A Gallery of Recuperation: On the Merits of Slandering Charlatans, Swindlers and Fraud. By Jaime Semprún.  Translated and with an Introduction by Eric-John Russell (MIT:2023)

Jaime Semprún (1947-2010), though never a member of the Situationist International (1957-1972), became closely associated with the SI’s founder, Guy Debord; so much so that when A Gallery of Recuperation was published in 1976, some reviewers thought Debord had written it. The central question addressed by Semprún’s book, appearing as it did several years after the revolt of students and workers in France, May 1968, is, as Eric-John Russell puts it in his 110-page introduction,

‘What happens to revolutionary critique in the hands of those who interests align with the preservation of a society divided into classes, mediated by exchange, and subordinated to the principle of capital accumulation?’

Of the entries in A Gallery of Recuperation, the majority are philosophers, namely: Cornelius Castoriadis, Michel Foucault, Jean-François Lyotard, Andr é Glucksmann, Jean Franklin, Giles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. The others are François Mitterand’s economic guru, Jaques Attali; the writer and film-maker, Gérard Guégan; and former Situationist Raoul Vaneigem.

In this short book, Semprún make no attempt to summarize the oeuvres of his gallery of recuperators (even less so with Deleuze and Guattari, who are dismissed in one sentence as being ‘dumber’ than each other). Russell’s introduction provides very useful historical contextualisation. But the only knowledge of the entrants in his Gallery Semprún expects from his readers is having heard or read about them. He has no wish to encourage his readers to spend any time studying their books.

In the case of Castoriadis, Semprún’s ideal reader in 1976 would know that this erstwhile exponent of workers self-management (autogestion) in the Fordist economy of the late-1950s, attracted the brief interest of Debord and the Situationist International. As Debord soon discovered, Castoriadis’s practical politics were positivist, with a Marxist gloss. It came as no surprise that when Castoriadis’s vision of rationalised council communism came to naught, he rejected Marx as the last of the ‘metaphysical’ dialecticians (after Plato, Aristotle and Hegel). Semprún comments, ‘the tragedy of Castoriadis is that his past remains even newer than his intellectual present’ and he is left ‘grappling with the ghost of his own thought, which arrives to pull him out his Freudian sleep, as he comically struggles in his prefaces [to his earlier revolutionary writings] to sabotage anything of real importance… while miring himself in a catch-22 situation by repeating “It is not that simple”.’

Jean-François Lyotard was, until 1963, a member of the group Castoriadis founded, Socialisme ou Barbarie. He left, according to Semprún, because he found Castoriadis’s  liquidation of Marxism ‘insufficiently liquidating’. For Lyotard, the acclaimed inventor of the terms ‘postmodernism’ and ‘libidinal economy’, it was necessary to ‘completely abandon critique’ in order to embrace the alienated relations of capital as a ‘machinery of delight’. One had ‘neither to judge causes nor isolate effects, energies pass through us and we have to suffer them’. Lyotard, says Semprún,

‘learned from Freud that human beings, however dispossessed, lididinally invest in their very dispossession in order to come to terms with it… all activity, or passivity is libidinal, workers go to work for pleasure. Lyotard gets off on cutting-edge cultural consumption and keeps coming back for more.

Foucault, the philosopher-criminologist, concluded from his study of the 19th century bourgeois murderer, Lacenaire, that (in Semprún’s interpretation) ‘coarser criminals are needed, illiteracy may even be required as a stamp of authenticity, or at least criminals who provide him with opportunity to peddle his exegetical contortions and tics. Fall into line everyone!’

The other personifications in the gallery get similar treatment. In the case of Glucksmann, the repentant Maoist, turned nouvelle philosophe of the New Right:

‘Accomplishing the daring feat of appearing more moronic than he actually is, he pretends to have suddenly realized, upon reading the works of Solzhenitsyn, that there was a police terror inseparable from ideological absolutism.’

Jacques Attili, Mitterand’s techo-futurologist and economic guru is exposed as a plagiarist and recuperator of various radical (including Situationist) strands of ideas. Attali’s later career as founder of the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development, which was responsible for restructuring and privatising the economies of post-communist Europe in the 1990s would have come as no surprise to Semprún.

The most surprising entry in the Gallery is Raoul Vaneigem, who is chiefly famous for his book, The Revolution of Everyday Life. But he is also famous, for having taken a booked holiday in the Mediterranean during the height of the street-fighting in Paris in May 1968, a faux pas neither Semprún or Debord forgive or forget. Vaneigem is portrayed as typical of

‘All those who speak of self-managment and workers’ councils, or even about (you must be joking) transparency and subversive play without referring explicitly to the concrete conditions of contemporary class struggle and to the possibilities and necessities they contain. Such people have corpse in their mouth: the corpse of the Situationist International.’

Irony, Eric-John Russell notes in his introduction, is a medium ‘endangered by the dissolution of the difference between surface and depth.’ Russell, after explicating the relation between Situationist praxis and the historic moment of May 68, turns to the years ‘between 1973 and 1977’ when ‘les annees soixante-huit came to an end’. As J Bourg, quoted by Russell, puts it, ‘The twentieth century began with Vladimir Lenin’s observation that making an omelette means breaking eggs; it ended with the assertion of the rights of chickens.’

In part as a reaction against the dogmatism of the French Communist Party and the exhaustion of existentialism of phenomenology, from the early 1960s, ‘Parisian cynicism proceeded from an anti-humanist detachment and turned towards the sciences of linguistics, structural anthropology, psychoanalysis and literary theory.’ This erosion of any stable subjectivity was inherited from the naive scientism of 19th century French posivitism. The loss of objectivity is related to a modernised Nominalism , presented as a ‘metaphysics of desire‘, in which ‘erotic spontaneity’ supposedly unleashed the energies of madness and fantasy.

‘In this way, the concept of recuperation is integral  to that of the spectacle’ in which the differences pivot on ‘unbridled reconcialation’. The spectacle’s ‘postulate of equivalence’ derives from exchange relations; ‘The bark of accommodated critique will always be worse than its bite’.

Russell maintains that ‘the counterrevolutionary forces earlier in the decade [the 1970s] were part of a larger process of the restructuring of capital, itself a defeat for the workers movement that would culminate in the early 1980s.’  This led to the deregulation of financial markets, ‘for which capital expands without investing in productive activity’. For the worker (including the ‘intellectual’ worker) this has led to an employment regime of increasing precarity.

What makes Semprún’s book relevant to this day is its critique of the dominant ‘ethos of liberation and continuous transgression of the desirants’ which has its ‘truth’ in ‘the eternally new of a perpetual present’. The recuperators, having inherited the tricks of the town market charlatan, ‘are in no short supply, with every online opinion strong-arming every other to dominate likes and retweets in an algorithmic orgy of con artists and grifters’.

In this new high-tech world of instant communication and thirst for instant gratification, the status of intellectuals is downgraded; to present them as ‘imputing class consciousness or having any real grasp over present catastrophes, cannot but come off as a bad joke… Look closely at any radical academic and you will find a publicist, if not a used car salesperson’.

Russell, striking a rare note of optimism, suggests that Gallery of Recuperation at least reminds us that the ‘wretched methods’ of the intellectuals might some day be looked on – after Hegel’s Owl of Minerva has spread its wings – as having, in Marx’s words, ‘wrung the neck of their own purpose.’

The passages from Semprún, as quoted above, provide only a taste of the torrent of insult and invective. His prose is largely free of clichés and ill-informed bad faith. Ad hominen critique is or course taboo in academia and in mainstream (or would-be mainstream) media. But the book leaves this reader wishing there was more of it today, in the face of the what is on offer from Guardian and Novara commentators.

Jaime Semprun

Manson and Trump: Object Lessons in How to Build a Death Cult

As regards Trump and Manson it would seem that, unfortunately, the American Psyche has room for both of them.

David Black

9 August 2023

The late Charles Manson is back in the news with the controversial parole of his former ‘Family’ member, Lesley Van Houten, who was convicted 53 years ago of murdering on his behalf. A new Netflix true crime series, How to Become a Cult Leader, features Manson in the first episode. Manson is portrayed as a sharp gaolbird, who learned to convince his 100 or so cult followers that he was god-like.

After more than 50 years the curse of Charles Manson maintains its grip.  ‘Edgy’ ironists have his image tattooed on their skin; there is a roaring trade in Manson T-shirts and other merchandise (especially his songs, which have been covered by over 70 recording artists); and an endless output of film and television productions. He has become so much part of the culture that the mythology built around him and his disciples has largely buried whatever ‘truth’ is still ‘out there’. What How to Become a Cult Leader does not explain is how Manson got his gentle hippie followers to become vicious drug-addled murderers. Nor does it examine the role of law enforcement agencies in protecting him from justice and enabling him to commit heinous crimes.

Manson built a cult which deeply impacted American culture. Donald Trump built a larger cult – MAGA- which took over the US government for four years and to this day threatens the very survival of the democratic state (current indictments not withstanding). Experts in authoritarianism and fascism perceive the threat quite clearly. New York University professor Ruth Ben-Ghiat says “I see Trump as a cult leader. So [his followers] are cult followers, personality cult followers.”

In the future, presidential historians and researchers of new media mind-control techniques and state spookery will no doubt unearth many dark secrets about the Trump Years. In the meantime, one might ask: What does Donald Trump have in common with the late Charles Manson? There is certainly a stark contrast between their respective family backgrounds: Trump born rich and privileged; Manson born poor, to an alcoholic mother and an absent father. The similarities, however, are noticeable and many:

  • Toxic family relationships.
  • Delusions of being god-like.
  • Messianic/apocalyptic dogma
  • Pathological narcissism.
  • Inflated sense of entitlement and victimhood.
  • A taste for inflicting harm.
  • Sexual abuse. Rape.
  • Weaponization of racism.
  • Endlessly repeated lies and false promises.
  • Friends and protectors in high places (especially the secret state).
  • An ability to get indoctrinated followers to commit violent crimes –and do time for it, pending future absolution (or presidential pardon in Trump’s case).
  • Careers in the entertainment industry.
  • Determination to fulfil the cult’s ‘mission’ even from a prison cell.
  • Plotting insurrection and civil war.

Charles Manson’s ‘Family’ – A Case Study in Violent Cultism

Four years ago, Tom O’Neill’s book CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA and the Secret History of the Sixties tore a few strips off the ‘official version’ propounded in the book Helter Skelter by the corrupt Manson Trial prosecutor, Vincent Bugliosi.

The story begins in March 1967 – around the time Donald Trump was lying to the draft board about his bone spurs. 32-year-old Charles Manson was released from prison on parole after serving 7 years for check forgery. His parole supervisor, Roger Smith, who was researching gang violence and drug use, had the bright idea of sending drug-abuser and gangster Manson to Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco, just as the summer of love was getting underway.

In San Francisco, Manson, the guitar-strumming sugar-daddy, slid into his new career as a cult builder. Many of his recruits were under-age girls, whom he sent out to prostitute themselves, deal drugs and steal. In July 1967, Manson was sentenced to three years probation for obstructing a police officer who arrested a 14-year old girl he had recruited. But this didn’t prevent Smith from filing a report in which he claimed that ‘Mr Manson has made excellent progress’ in becoming a respectable citizen. In fact his whole cult was granted respectability. In O’Neill’s words, ‘The law afforded special privileges to everyone in Manson’s orbits.’

Roger Smith ran an Amphetamine Research Project at the Haight-Ashbury Free Medical Clinic, which had been founded by his namesake, David Smith. The two Smiths jointly wrote a study of the Manson Family for the Journal of Psychedelic Drugs, entitled ‘The Group Marriage Commune’, based on ‘participant-observer’ research at the Family ranch. The Smiths’ research was funded by the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), which was later found to have been used by the CIA as a front for the agency’s MK-Ultra ‘mind control’ project.

Dr Jolyon West, later exposed for his role in the CIA’s ‘mind control’ project, was provided with an office at the Haight-Ashbury Clinic to recruit subjects for ‘LSD research’. After West died in 1999, O’Neill found crucial correspondence between West and Sidney Gottlieb, head of MK-Ultra. In a letter dated 11 June 1953, West wrote to Gottlieb outlining proposals for a project to use hypnosis and drugs to extract information from unwilling subjects, to induce amnesia of the interrogation, and alter ‘the subject’s recollection of the information he formerly knew’.

West added that the experiments ‘must eventually be put to test in practical trials in the field’. O’Neill comments ‘All these were the goals of MK-Ultra and they bore a striking resemblance to Manson’s accomplishments with his followers more than a decade later.’ When O’Neill asked psychology professor Alan Scheflin if the Manson murders might have been an MK-Ultra experiment gone wrong, the professor replied, ‘No. An MK-Ultra experiment gone right.’ This was informed speculation, but necessarily so, given that the CIA operational files on MK-Ultra had been destroyed by Gottlieb in 1973.

The Manson Murders

In late 1968, Charles Manson and his ‘Family’ moved to the Spahn ranch, a 55-acre spread in Los Angeles County, California, which had previously been used as a set for filming westerns.

On 1 July 1969 a Black man named Bernard Crowe visited the Spahn ranch to complain about being ripped off by Family member Tex Watson in a marijuana deal. Days later, Manson went to Crowe’s Hollywood apartment, shot him in the stomach and left him for dead. (Unknown to Manson, Crowe survived and would eventually testify against him in court.) Manson told his followers that Crowe was a member of the Black Panther Party (he wasn’t) and that the Beatles White Album song, ‘Helter Skelter’, was a ‘prophecy’ of full-scale race war.

On 25 July, Manson and several accomplices invaded the home of Gary Hinman, a musician associate of Tex Watson. After two days of brutal torture, Manson realised there was no money to be had and ordered Bobby Beausoleil to kill him. Beausoleil stabbed Hinman to death and wrote ‘Political Piggy’ on the wall in blood. Hinman’s body was discovered by friends on 31 July. Beausoleil was arrested on 6 August for theft of Hindman’s station wagon, in which police found the murder weapon. Beausoleil concocted a story that Hinman had been killed by two Black Panther militants.

On the night of 8 August 1969, Manson sent four members of the Family – Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkle, Linda Kasabian and Tex Watson – to the mansion home of Sharon Tate and Roman Polanski on Cielo Drive, Benedict Canyon. On entering the property, Watson shot and stabbed to death 18-year old Steven Parent, who had been visiting the caretaker and was sitting in his car. In the house the gang found Voytek Frykowski, an aspiring Polish filmmaker; Abigail Folger, his girlfriend; Jay Sebring, a hairstylist; and the pregnant Sharon Tate (Polanski was away, making a film in Paris). All four of them were tied up, then knifed to death as they begged for mercy. Susan Atkins soaked a towel in Sharon Tate’s blood and used it to write ‘Pig’ on the wall.

The following night the four killers teamed up with other members of the Family: Clem Grogan, Leslie Van Houten and Charles Manson himself. They piled into a camper van and drove around the suburbs of Los Angeles, looking for another target. Manson entered the home of chain store entrepreneur Leno LaBianca and his wife Rosemary, and tied them up at gunpoint. Manson then returned to the van and ordered Watson, Van Houten and Krenwinkle to go in and stab the couple to death. After killing the couple, Watson carved the word ‘War’ on Leno’s stomach. On the walls, the killers wrote ‘Rise’, ‘Death to pigs’ and ‘Healter [sic] Skelter’ in their victims’ blood.

The LA police were now investigating three killing sprees which had in common the reference to ‘pigs’ written on the walls in blood. But despite the arrest of Beausoleil in connection with Hindman’s murder they chose to ignore the signs that the residents of the Spahn ranch might be involved. This was especially strange as they had been secretly watching comings and goings at the ranch for weeks.

On 16 August – a week after the Cielo Drive murders – the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Office (LASO) mobilised dozens of officers and a SWAT team in a raid on the Spahn ranch. The raid had nothing to do with murders; they were looking for firearms, drugs and stolen property, which they found aplenty. Given that Manson and several of his followers were also in clear violation of their parole terms, they could have all been jailed there and then. But all were released without charges three days later. They were thus free to carry on killing. And they did. On 26 August Hollywood stuntman Donald Shea was killed because Manson thought he had provided the police with information that led to the 16 August raid (his body was eventually discovered in an excavation at the ranch in 1977).

Rock and Roll

Like Trump, Manson was determined to carve out a name for himself in the entertainment industry.

During the four months it took the Los Angeles police to connect Manson with the murders, the media speculated that somehow the hedonists of Hollywood, with their sex-and-drugs lifestyles, had brought disaster onto themselves. Manson was more plugged into Hollywood than anyone cared to admit. The Cielo Drive mansion had previously been occupied by record producer Terry Melcher, who had auditioned Manson in May 1969 for a record deal. Melcher had been introduced to Manson by Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys. Melcher, Wilson and songwriter Gregg Jacobson – nicknamed the ‘Golden Penetrators’ – were welcoming to the Family, who took over Wilson’s house for the summer, supplying drugs and sexual favours while running up massive bills for food, clothes, car repairs and gonorrhoea treatment. Dennis Wilson told Rave magazine,

‘Sometimes the Wizard frightens me. The Wizard is Charlie Manson, who is a friend of mine, who thinks he is God and the devil. He sings, plays and writes poetry and may be another artist for Brother Records [the Beach Boys’ label].’

Bobby Beausoleil later claimed that Melcher promised to pay Manson $5,000 for his song ‘Cease to Exist’ (which the Beach Boys recorded as ‘Cease to Resist’) but then reneged on the deal. In August 1968 Wilson moved house and Manson moved the Family into the Spahn ranch.

Dennis Wilson and Greg Jakobson knew that Manson had previously shot Bernard Crowe. When O’Neill managed to get an interview with Melcher decades later he was met by evasions, denials, and threats to sue him and his publisher, Premiere magazine.

According to ex-LASO detective Preston Guillory, the police didn’t go after Manson ‘because our department thought he was going to attack the Black Panthers after intelligence had revealed Manson’s shooting of Bernard Crowe. Guillory told O’Neill: ‘I believe there was something bigger Manson was working on. Cause a stir. Blame it on the Panthers . . . Maybe a witting player in someone else’s game.’ Another interviewee, former assistant District Attorney Lewis Watnick, made the ‘educated guess’ that ‘Manson was an informant’.

COINTELPRO

Two of most notorious secret-state campaigns to infiltrate, disrupt and discredit the American Left were the CIA’s CHAOS, an illegal domestic surveillance program, and the FBI’s COINTELPRO. Both of them targeted the Black Panthers. In the summer of 1969, COINTELPRO activities were at their most murderous (such as arranging assassinations of Panthers by cops or by rivals such as the United Slaves Organisation). In August 1967, J Edgar Hoover reanimated COINTELPRO ‘to prevent militant Black Nationalist groups and leaders from gaining respectability’. The Tate-Polanski house on Cielo Drive had become a gathering place for ‘liberal Hollywood’ figures such as Mama Cass, Warren Beatty and Jane Fonda – all of whom were reportedly under FBI surveillance. Abigail Folger, one of the Cielo victims, was an outspoken civil rights activist. Hoover’s memo says,

‘An anonymous letter is being prepared for Bureau approval to be sent to a leader of the PFP [Peace and Freedom Party] in which it is set forth that the BPP [Black Panther Party] has made statements in closed meetings that when armed rebellion comes the whites in the PFP will be lined up against the wall with the rest of the whites.’

As O’Neill points out, ‘Less than a year after this memo was written, Manson’s followers lined up four denizens of liberal Hollywood in Roman Polanski’s home and cut them to pieces, leaving slogans in blood to implicate the Black Panthers.’

Two of a Kind?

In today’s MAGA world, for Black Panthers read Black Lives Matter; for Anti-War movement read ‘Antifa’.

As regards Trump and Manson it would seem that, unfortunately, the American Psyche has room for both of them.

(‘Beyond Bugliosi: the Manson murders revisited’, my full review of CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA and the Secret History of the Sixties by Tom O’Neill (with Dan Piepenbring), appeared in Lobster magazine Issue 80 (Winter 2020)

 

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