Before He Became a Monster: A Story Charles Manson's Time at Father Flannigan's Boystown

by Lawson McDowell

  He felt a crisp hundred dollar bill in his pocket, Spider’s money given to him by Charlie. He felt ecstasy to have survived their quandary. He felt the joy of affirmation for his faith in Charlie. It was the same joy an impoverished person feels when he suddenly discovers, after a life of suffering, that he has won the Irish lottery.

  Jake stayed on the side of the highway until Charlie and Hiram disappeared into the night’s darkest hours. He waited until he was sure they hadn’t turned around.

  He knew he would wait for Charlie no matter how long it took. It never crossed his mind that he could be wrong about the return of Man’s Son.

  Half an hour after they left, Spider lay buried four feet down in the soft, wet dirt of a cornfield just off Highway 6. Charlie figured the body was buried deep enough that a tractor plow would pass without problem.

  As they pulled back onto the highway, Hiram said: “Spider bragged that he killed my Pa.”

  “I heard it,” Charlie said. “I figure he’s knocking at the gates of Hell about now. If there’s a line they’ll pull him out and move him up front.”

  They grew quiet and rode in silence for several miles.

  In the dark car, Charlie grasped at his vision of fame and acceptance. He held it, rubbed it shiny and lifted it up on a pedestal. He visualized the procession of his days, and bolstered himself for a new direction.

  He had come to Boys Town hoping to find a new life, a fresh start. He remembered the excitement he felt on that first day riding up the hill to campus. Seeing new buildings without bars and guards was like arriving in Heaven. He remembered the joy realizing he had a chance to adopt a new family, not beaten street people with knives, but boys who wanted a future. Even the hurdle Link presented hadn’t deterred Charlie from a commitment to embrace the opportunity that Boys Town offered. He had wanted to succeed. He wondered how things might have turned out had Spider not shown up. He wondered how his family could stay together.

  I coulda learned the things I needed. I coulda made it here.

  Hiram too felt the pain of departure. He remembered the first time he saw Charlie and how unimpressed he had been to see what he believed was just another dead-end Irish boy.

  Charlie had saved him. It was not something he had sought or even thought he might need, but when death came for him, it was Charlie who put everything on the line. Hiram thought it was the first time anyone had ever stepped in like that since he lost his Pa.

  Hiram glanced across the car at Charlie, riding fully alert, face calm and expectant, and was amazed at how wrong he had been about the kid.

  They entered Omaha’s downtown, Hiram driving the twice-stolen car.

  “We’ll park and hang around downtown until school is out, then we’ll go find Candy Bahr. I want to see her before we leave town,” Charlie said.

  “Got it,” Hiram answered.

  “Let’s find a place to eat, brother. I’m starving,” said Charlie. “Spider is payin’. Won’t complain a bit no matter what we eat.”

  Chapter 49

  Monday Morning - Boys Town, April 1949

  The village began the new week under a dismal cloud cover and drizzling rain.

  Just after six o’clock, boys poured from the dormitories and cottages into the gray light. They scowled at the unexpected wetness. They hurried to the kitchens to prepare breakfast and to the barns to tend the livestock. They arrived at dozens of other places to begin pre-school chores, some carrying the books and papers they would need for school.

  Jake was not among those arriving for kitchen duty. They noticed his absence. Jake was always on time, always ready to do his job.

  Nearby, two student-mechanics arrived at the garage and found the doors open and lights on, but no one inside. After half an hour, they wondered why Hiram was late.

  Jake lay in tortuous sleep through the morning bustle, cringing each time a vision of the dying gangster appeared in front of him with scars, gold teeth and lifeless eyes.

  At seven-thirty a door slammed somewhere in the dorm, startling Jake to consciousness. His eyes came open.

  He lay still trying to remember where he was. When he realized he was in his own bed, his next thought was to confirm he was alone.

  He could see Hiram’s empty bed. Next to it, Diablo was on Charlie’s bed giving him a condemning look.

  They’re really gone. Spider is really dead.

  He allowed his eyes to focus on the Baby Ben clock sitting on Hiram’s dresser.

  They’ve been gone three hours.

  Jake felt the nausea and fear come over him. He wanted to spend the remainder of his life in bed, cocooned under covers.

  After the Caddy left, Jake had returned to the room and held vigil at the window. Worry and fear had paralyzed him so that he was unable even to remove his muddy shoes.

  Prison. Prison will be like Hell. And when I get to the real Hell, it will be even worse.

  He had watched and waited in the dark room. No flashing police lights came. No ambulance with white-coated attendants crossing the wide lawn with a body covered with sheets. No Father Gallagher talking with newspaper reporters in the headlights of a detective’s sedan.

  He waited. The village slept.

  They’ve got to return. They’ve just got to.

  After an hour of watching he had paced. He had tried to drive away the grim thoughts by reading, first a school book, then his Bible, but neither held his attention. He returned to the window to look for headlights.

  The slow rain had started before sunrise.

  If we left any evidence maybe the rain will wash it away.

  The only evidence he could think of was cigarette butts. They had removed everything including tire tracks. That was Jake’s last assignment, covering and wiping away the Cadillac tracks in the soft ground.

  Cigarette butts.

  He remembered Charlie smoking and joking about the murder. Charlie’s detachment from the killing had sent a chill down his spine.

  It was the right thing to do. Charlie said so.

  Jake had heard meowing and looked down at Diablo asking to come in. Jake raised the window for the cat to jump in. He voiced the bad news.

  “Charlie’s gone,” he had whispered, “And he won’t be coming back. Maybe we can be friends now.”

  Diablo had jumped from the window sill and onto Charlie’s bed.

  Jake had continued agonizing over what might happen if the cops caught up with Charlie. When exhaustion finally overpowered emotion, Jake had fallen into a troubled sleep. The sleep had been nearly as bad as being awake.

  By late morning, the rain stopped and the sun made a welcome appearance. Its warmth was a perfect companion for the clean crisp air.

  About the time Charlie and Hiram were downtown, acquiring Nebraska license tags for their new Cadillac, Gallagher was waiting for them at the high school conference room. With each passing minute he was growing more agitated. When the clock struck eleven, Gallagher reached the limit of patience. He shoved aside repair estimates for the burned out Old Main building and launched a doomed crusade.

  Enough is enough! I am tracking down those boys and getting to the bottom their insolence. Hiram and Charlie should have been here by now. When I instruct boys to see me, I expect them to do it, or else.

  At the school office, he interrupted Sister Agatha’s focus on a particularly difficult crossword puzzle.

  “I’m looking for Hiram Hubert and Charles Manson. They were supposed to come by this morning to see me. Have you heard from either of them?”

  “I suspect they’re at the infirmary,” she said. “I have absentee slips for both.”

  “What?” Gallagher asked, unsure whether to feel frustrated or concerned. He grabbed the stack of pink absentee reports from the inbox and began flipping through them.

  “Hiram was absent from history,” Sister Agatha continued. “And the new boy, Charles, he’s really nice, you know, well he was absent this morning too. Maybe there’s a sickness going around. I was abo
ut to call the nurse.”

  Gallagher continued flipping through the forms. He stopped when he discovered the slip for Jake Bowden. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “Jake Bowden is absent too?” he asked Sister Agatha.

  “Uh-hmmm. Yes.”

  “Charles was supposed to shadow Jake again today. Would you mind making that call to the nurse now?”

  The nurse answered on the first ring. She had seen nothing of Hiram, Jake, or Charles all morning.

  “Those three boys are roommates,” Gallagher said. “Something is going on. I’m going to start at their dorm room. If I don’t find them, I’ll be back for their full schedules. It would help if you pull their files while I’m gone.”

  “Yes, Father,” she answered, as he stormed from the office.

  Gallagher banged on the door. He expected no answer.

  Inside, Jake awoke and jumped to his feet. He opened the door, still groggy and stood facing Father Gallagher, now with uncharacteristically beady eyes.

  The inquisition began.

  “Good Morning, Jake.”

  “Father.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No, Father.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you here instead of class?”

  “I guess I overslept. Gosh, what time is it anyway?”

  “Where are Charles and Hiram?”

  “I don’t know, Father.” It was a truthful answer, to the wrong question.”

  “When did you last see them?”

  “Last night before I went to bed” Again a truthful answer.

  “Were they in the room for lights out?”

  “Yes, Father. I turned off the lights myself. We were together.”

  “Maybe you heard them leave the room?”

  “I don’t remember hearing any noise except that storm. I’ll give my Boys Town honor on that, Father.

  “Hmmm. Do you expect them anytime soon.”

  “I hope so, but I don’t know.”

  “And you say you don’t know where they are?”

  “No, Father. I have no idea.”

  “If you see either of them, please pass the message that I’m looking for them.”

  “I will, Father.”

  “Meanwhile, take a shower and change your clothes. You look like you slept in them. God has given us a beautiful day outside. There’s no need to stay in a dark room.”

  “Not so far as you know, Father,” he wanted to say, but instead said, “I’ll be out in a bit, Father. Thank you for waking me up.”

  For the second time in less than a day, Gallagher left the room with his resolve doused and options stonewalled. These boys could be so damned infuriating.

  I have no choice but to wait until I find them.

  It would be a very long wait indeed.

  Chapter 50

  Douglas County Health Center – August, 2012.

  The next day was Sunday, Maggie’s rest day. Instead of sleeping late and lounging at home, she rose early and drove to the hospice center. She bought a sweet roll in the cafeteria and stuffed it in her purse for breakfast in Jake’s room.

  Arriving at his door, she met a nurse coming out with a nearly-full breakfast tray. Maggie saw that Jake had barely touched his food.

  In his room, she was pleasantly surprised to find Jake alert and engaging. For ten minutes they made polite conversation.

  The visit was relaxed until Jake turned to more serious matters.

  “Something’s got you up early. What’s on your mind today?”

  “I had trouble sleeping last night. I’m upset that you would ask me to soften my attitudes on Charles Manson. He’s a mass murderer, Dad. Nothing you say can change that.”

  “In the interest of fairness, I believe he deserves another look if for no other reason than the trial discrepancies.”

  “He deserves a lethal injection. Plain and simple.”

  “Charlie was convicted on a weak case. Sure it was sensational, but the state had only one eyewitness: one of the murderers! Linda Kasabian, was a sex-crazed, thieving dope-head and a pitiful mother. After the murders, she fled to hide from the cops. She abandoned her baby with what the media called a ‘cult of killers.’ When they caught her, they dragged her back to California in handcuffs and charged her with murder. That’s when Kasabian made her deal to testify and save her own ass.”

  “I remember some of that,” Maggie said.

  Jake forged ahead.

  “Yet, when Kasabian, the state’s star witness, testified, she admitted she never heard Charlie order the murders, never saw him at the Polanski mansion, never saw him harm anyone. The whole trial was based on the prosecutor’s smoke, mirrors, and hype. There was no hard proof. It was a circumstantial case based on a concept that Bugliosi called vicarious liability. And the race war? Does it make sense to try to start a war with two nights of murder and then suddenly stop? Helter Skelter was Bugliosi’s made up theory to concoct a motive.”

  Maggie shook her head with rejection.

  Jake said: “What? You think the prosecutor wouldn’t lie to win a huge case? Less than three years after Manson’s conviction, Bugliosi was indicted on perjury charges for courtroom behavior. He doesn’t sound so pure to me.”

  “Sorry, Dad. I don’t buy your hogwash.”

  “I know you don’t. You’re like most people, honey. It takes effort to find out the truth. It’s easier to buy the newspapers and be told what to believe.”

  “More conspiracy whining? I have no sympathy for Charles Manson. I think he’s guilty as hell. I won’t soften on him.”

  “You’re not thinking for yourself. You’re letting the media tell you how to feel.”

  Maggie was ready to move the conversation along.

  “Go on with your story, Dad. Just understand that I don’t give a fig about Charles Manson.”

  “When I used to think of the murder, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. The memories would come rushing up like burning stomach acid.

  “After Charlie left Boys Town, I think I was the only one who missed him. Well, Diablo missed him too. Poor cat seemed lonely. He came to my room every night and hung around. When Charlie didn’t show up, he’d leave. I knew exactly how he felt.

  “When I left Boys Town, Diablo came with me. It was really his idea. That’s how we ended up with him while you were a little girl.”

  He looked to her for reassurance, but barely found willingness to listen.

  “I used to think Charlie would come back for me. He told me he would. Told me to wait here and lead a normal life.”

  Maggie smirked.

  “In other words, you were awaiting the second coming of Charlie?” she chided.

  She had no way to know this would be the last levity she would feel for months.

  “Charlie’s turned into an old man like me.”

  “He’s not like you: he’s locked up.”

  “Over forty years in prison now.”

  “He’ll never get out, and thank God for it,” she said.

  “I get nostalgic when I think about him, not the Charlie they have in prison, but the Charlie I knew.”

  “Did you hear from him after he left?”

  “Oh yes,” Jake said softly.

  It was a slow response that gave him time to make a final decision to tell his secret.

  “Get the suitcase.”

  Maggie pulled the butterflied case from the closet. She too knew the time had come to learn the things kept from her so long.

  “I hope you know the combination.”

  “I do,” Jake said.

  “Want me to open it for you?”

  “Lay it across my lap.”

  She reached through the IV tubes and laid the case across his legs.

  “Have a seat, Maggie.”

  She watched him fumble with the lock’s tumblers until she heard a click. Jake lifted the hinged top and looked inside.

  “We’ll take care of t
he easy stuff first.”

  Jake held out a small cloth bag to Maggie. It was soft felt and measured no more than two inches on each side. The top was closed by a satin drawstring.

  Maggie opened the bag and removed a small piece of plastic in the shape of a rounded triangle.

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “Turn it over,” Jake instructed.

  On the opposite side she saw the gold lettering.

  “Gene Autry? You a big fan or something?”

  “It’s a guitar pick. It was Manson’s. Someone gave it to him in jail. He gave it to me as a memento. I passing it to you. I won’t be needing it.”

  Maggie frowned.

  “Please tell me your big secret is not a guitar pick.”

  Jake removed a folded sheet of paper, closed the case, and offered it to Maggie.

  “This letter came to me at Boys Town six weeks after Charlie and Hiram left. The postmark was from Indianapolis, 1949. Read it for me, honey.”

  Maggie unfolded the yellowed note and read aloud.

  Dear Jake,

  Me and Brother Hiram found another Boys Town guy at the flophouse in Omaha, so we split. Hiram was fine when he left for Chicago to cash in. I’m happy for him.

  Looks like I caused my Candy Bahr a problem. I need you to take care of her until I get back. You know where she lives. I could come at any time but it might be awhile. God has given me several jobs in Indiana.

  Your brother,

  Charlie.

  When she finished, Maggie refolded the letter and placed it in in her lap.

  “I don’t get it, Dad. Who’s Candy?”

  “You remember the story about Charlie at the Ice Capades and how he met a girl from South Omaha? She was Charlie’s girlfriend.”

  Jake took a deep cleansing breath.

  “I’ve got to say, Candy loved Charlie all the way back to the first moment she saw him at the cotton candy line at Ak-Sar-Ben. She loved him on the Boys Town bus and in the dormitory room. She loved him in the stolen truck when we drove her into Omaha and while she waited for him in her parents’ home, hoping he would call or come over. She loved him even after he left Boys Town, promising that he’d return.”