Manson was abandoned by his mother and lived in various institutions since he was 8 years old. He learned early how to survive in captivity. When he was 14, he got arrested for stealing bread and was jailed. He was supposed to go to reform school, but instead went to Boys Town in Nebraska. He ran away from Boys Town and got arrested again, beginning his life-long career as a prison inmate and meeting organized crime figures who became his role models. He tossed horseshoes with Frank Costello, hung out with Frankie Carbo, and learned how to play the guitar from Alvin “Creepy” Karpas.
Eventually, he was introduced to Scientology by fellow prisoners while he was at McNeil Island Penitentiary. He needed less deconditioning than his cellmates, who had spent more time in the outside world. One of his teachers said that, with Scientology, Charlie’s ability to psych people out quickly was intensified so that he could zero in on their weaknesses and fears immediately. Thus, one more method was now stored in his manipulation tool-chest.
When Manson was released in 1967, he went to the Scientology Center in San Francisco. “Little Paul” Watkins, who accompanied him there, told me, “Charlie said to them, ‘I’m Clear’—what do I do now?’ But they expected him to sweep the floor. Shit, he had done that in prison.”
In Los Angeles, he went to the Scientology Celebrity Center. Now this was more like it. Here he could mingle with the elite. I managed to obtain a copy of the original log entry: “7/31/68, new name, Charlie Manson, Devt., No address, In for processing = Ethics = Type III.” The receptionist—who, by Type III, meant “psychotic”—sent him to the Ethics office, but he never showed up.
At the Spahn Ranch, Manson eclectically combined his version of Scientology auditing with post-hypnotic techniques he had learned in prison, with geographical isolation and subliminal motivation, with singalong sessions and encounter games, with LSD and mescaline, with transactional analysis and brainwashing rituals, with verbal probing and the sexual longevity that he had practiced upon himself for all those years in the privacy of his cell.
Ultimately, in August 1969, he sent members of his well-progammed family off to slay actress Sharon Tate and her unborn baby, hairstylist and dealer to the stars Jay Sebring, would-be screenwriter Voytek Frykowski and his girlfriend, coffee heiress Abigail Folger. The next night, Manson accompanied them to kill supermarket mogul Leno LaBianca and his wife.
In 1971, my old friend, Ed Sanders, founder of the Fugs—the missing link between rock and punk—was covering the Manson trial for the L.A. Free Press and working on a book, The Family, about the case. I wrote to him for permisson to print any material that might be omitted from his book because the publisher considered it in bad taste or too controversial. Otherwise, I told him, I would have to make up those missing sections myself.
Sanders put a notice in the middle of one of his reports: “Oh, yes, before we ooze onward, I am not, nor shall I be, the author of any future article in The Realist titled ‘The Parts I Left Out of the Manson Story, by Ed Sanders.’” He assured me that this was “a joke,” but also, understandably, it was a safeguard.
I had known Ed for ten years. He was always on the crest of nonviolent political protest and outrageous cultural expression, such as Fuck You: A Magazine of the Arts. In 1961, he got arrested with others for trying to swim aboard the Polaris nuclear submarine. The next year he published a parody catalog listing actual relics, such as Allen Ginsberg’s cold-cream jar containing one pubic hair. He sent the catalogs to universities and sold the items at outlandish prices. But now his courage and determination had taken a different path, and I flew to New York to pore through his Manson files. Sanders was a data addict, and his research notes were written in the form of quatrains. He had become an investigative poet.
When I returned to San Francisco, a young man with a child on his shoulders came to my house and rang the bell. I opened the door, and he served me with a subpoena. The Church of Scientology was accusing me of libel and conspiracy, simply for having announced the title of an upcoming article, “The Rise of Sirhan Sirhan in the Scientology Hierarchy”—which, ironically, I no longer planned to publish. They were suing me for three-quarters of a million dollars. I published their complaint in The Realist:
“[This] was published for the purpose of exposing plaintiff to public hatred, contempt, ridicule, obliquy, and did cause it to be shunned and avoided, intended to injure plaintiff in the further proselytizing of the religion of Scientology and to heap embarrassment and humiliation upon it through the distribution of the aforesaid statement throughout the State of California, the United States of America and the world at large. . . . “[The statement] was intended to be understood by the general public and readers, and was so understood by them, charging, asserting and imputing that the plaintiff is not involved in a religious movement, but rather some form of unlawful or unethical activity and that the plaintiff employs criminal methods in furthering its religion. . . .
“As a direct and proximate result of the foregoing, plaintiff has suffered pecuniary loss in that many members, prospective members and persons in the general public have not made or have decreased the amount of their fixed contributions, offerings and donations to plaintiff because of the defamatory statement. . . . Plaintiff does not know at this time the exact amount of the pecuniary loss resultng from the foregoing, and plaintiff prays to leave to amend this allegation and insert the true amount of the loss when the same becomes known to it. . . .
“Defendants have conspired between themselves and with other established religions, medical and political organizations and persons presently unknown to plaintiff. By subtle covert and pernicious techniques involving unscrupulous manipulation of all public communication media, defendants and their co-conspirators have conspired to deny plaintiff its right to exercise religious beliefs on an equal basis with the established religious organizations of this country. These conspirators have utilized what has now become their modus operandi of hiring strangers to write libelous documents for them and then trying to hide behind them. Publication of said statement and the proposed article is one act in furtherance of that conspiracy.
“Said conspirators and diverse other parties, members of the established social, religious and economic society of America today, have a conspiratorial party line whereby they harass, ridicule, defame and malign any new organizations, religious, social or economic, regardless of their merits, when it appears that they are about to become a threat to the established orders‚ source of funds or membership. Said conspirators thereby seriously protect their established order and economic well-being for their own selfish, economic, social and ideological reasons and thereby prevent dissemination of new ideas and freedom of speech. . . .”
By publishing their complaint, I allowed Scientology to reveal more about itself than anything I could have imagined about Sirhan. My attorney, James Wolpman, filed a petition to remove the suit to a federal court because of the constitutional question it raised concerning freedom of the press. It reached the interrogatories stage, with questions such as, “Have you ever spoken with or received communication from Sirhan Sirhan, his immediate family or his duly authorized agents or attorneys?” I refused to answer, on the grounds that it was privileged information.
Scientology eventually offered to settle out of court for $5,000, but I refused. Then they said they would drop the suit if I would publish an article in The Realist by Chick Corea, a jazz musician and Scientologist, but that wasn’t quite the way I made my editorial decisions, and I refused again. Scientology finally dropped their lawsuit altogether. However, their records show that they had other plans for me. Under the heading “Operation Dynamite”—their jargon for a frame-up—a memo read:
“Got CSW from SFO to not do this on Krassner. I disagree and will pass my comments on to DG I US as to why this should be done. SFO has the idea that Krassner is totally handled and will not attack us again. My feelings are that in PT, he has not got enough financial backing to get out The Realist or other publications
and when that occurs, will attack again, maybe more covertly but attack, nonetheless.”
Later on, I flew to Kansas City to participate in a symposium at the University of Missouri, where I would link up with Ken Kesey. He had written to me from Mexico about this event with Henry Kissinger, B.F. Skinner and Buckminster Fuller. I, in turn, was supposed to contact Ed Sanders, who proceeded to compose a song about Kissinger. However, the Student Activities Office had sent Kesey a copy of the previous year’s program. This year’s program was honoring the memory of Robert F. Kennedy. So Sanders had to compose another song:If Robert Kennedy still were alive
Things would be different today
Richard Nixon would still be on Wall Street
Selling Pepsi in Taiwan . . .
The war would be over today
And J. Edgar Hoover would be watching gangster movies
In an old folks home. . . .
Before singing it at the university, he announced, “In the course of my research in Los Angeles, it became evident that Robert Kennedy was killed by a group of people including Sirhan Sirhan.” In The Family, he had written, in reference to the Process Church of the Final Judgment, to which Manson had ties: “It is possible that the Process had a baleful influence on Sirhan Sirhan, since Sirhan is known, in the spring of ’68, to have frequented clubs in Hollywood in occult pursuits. He has talked several times subsequent to Robert Kennedy’s death about an occult group from London which he knew about and which he really wanted to go to London to see.”
Since the London-based Process Church had been an offshoot of Scientology, this looked like it could be a case of satirical prophecy. I was tempted to return to my original premise involving Sirhan, but it was too late. I had already become obsessed with my Manson research. I was gathering piece after piece of a mind-boggling jigsaw puzzle, without having any model to pattern it after. It was clear that members of the Manson family had actually but unknowingly served as a hit-squad for a drug ring. Furthermore, conspiracy researcher Mae Brussell put me in contact with Preston Guillory, a former deputy sheriff, who told me:
“We had been briefed for a few weeks prior to the actual raiding of Spahn Ranch. We had a sheaf of memos on Manson, that they had automatic weapons at the ranch, that citizens had complained about hearing machine-guns fired at night, that firemen from the local fire station had been accosted by armed members of Manson’s band and told to get out of the area, all sorts of complaints like this.
“We had been advised to put anything relating to Manson on a memo submitted to the station, because they were suposedly gathering information for the raid we were going to make. Deputies at the station of course started asking, ‘Why aren’t we going to make the raid sooner?’ I mean, Manson’s a parole violator, machine-guns have been heard, we know there’s narcotics and we know there’s booze. He’s living at the Spahn Ranch with a bunch of minor girls in complete violation of his parole.
“Deputies at the station quite frankly became very annoyed that no action was being taken about Manson. My contention is this—the reason Manson was left on the street was because our department thought that he was going to attack the Black Panthers. We were getting intelligence briefings that Manson was anti-black and he had supposedly killed a Black Panther, the body of which could not be found, and the department thought that he was going to launch an attack on the Black Panthers. . . .”
And so it was that racism in the Sheriff ’s Department had turned law enforcers into unintentional collaborators in a mass murder.
After the panel at the University of Missouri, Ed Sanders and I went to the cafeteria for lunch. Ed ordered a full vegetarian meal and then couldn’t eat any of it. I had never seen him so shaken. It was because the Process people had been hassling him. He said he was having trouble sleeping. Occasionally he mumbled things to himself as though they were marginal notes describing the state of his depression.
I recalled that, in the summer of 1968, while the Yippies were planning a Festival of Life at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, some zealots from the Process cult visited me in New York. They were hyper-anxious to meet Tim Leary and kept pestering me for his phone number. The Process, founded by Scientology dropouts, first came to the U.S. from London in 1967. Members were called “mind benders” and proclaimed their “dedication to the elimination of the grey forces.”
In January 1968, they became the Process Church of the Final Judgment, a New Orleans-based religious corporation. They claimed to be in direct contact with both Jesus and Lucifer, and had wanted to be called the Church of the Process of Unification of Christ and Satan, but local officials presumably objected to their taking the name of Satan in vain.
The Process struck me as a group of occult provocateurs, using radical Christianity as a front. They were adamantly interested in Yippie politics. They boasted to me of various rallies which their vibrations alone had transformed into riots. They implied that there was some kind of connection between the assassination of Bobby Kennedy and their mere presence on the scene. On the evening that Kennedy was killed at the Ambassador Hotel, he had been to a dinner party in Malibu with Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate.
Bernard Fensterwald, head of the Committee to Investigate Assassinations, told me that Sirhan Sirhan had some involvement with the Process. Peter Chang, the district attorney of Santa Cruz, showed me a letter from a Los Angeles police official to the chief of police in San Jose, warning him that the Process had infiltrated biker gangs and hippie communes.
And Ed Sanders wrote in Win magazine:
“[W]ord came out of Los Angeles of a current FBI investigation of the RFK murder, the investigation growing, as the source put it, out of ‘the Manson case.’ Word came from another source, this one in the halls of Government itself, that several police and investigatory jurisdictions have information regarding other murders that may have been connected to the Robert Kennedy shooting; murders that occurred after RFK’s.
“A disturbing fact in this regard is that one agency in the Federal Bureaucracy (not the FBI) has stopped a multi-county investigation by its own officers that would have probed into such matters as the social and religious activities of Sirhan Sirhan in early ’68, and into the allegations regarding RFK-connected murders.”
In 1972, Paulette Cooper, author of The Scandal of Scientology, put me in touch with Lee Cole, a former Scientologist who was now working with the Process Church. I contacted him and flew to Chicago. Cole met me at the airport with a couple of huge men whose demeanor was somewhat frightening. They drove me to a motel, where I checked in, paying cash in advance.
Cole arranged for a meeting with Sherman Skolnick, a local conspiracy researcher. He was in a wheelchair. Two men, one with a metal hook in place of his hand, carried him up the back stairway to my motel room. Cole kept peeking out the window for suspicious-looking cars. The scene was becoming more surrealistic every moment.
Early the next morning, the phone rang. It was Skolnick: “Paul, I’m sorry to wake you, but you’re in extreme danger.” I was naked, but with my free hand I immediately started putting my socks on. “That fellow from last night, Lee Cole, he’s CIA.” My heart was pounding. I got dressed faster than I had ever gotten dressed in my life, packed my stuff and ran down the back steps of the motel without even checking out. At another motel, I called Cole. He denied being with the CIA. We made an appointment to visit the Process headqarters.
“And this time,” I said, giving my best imitation of Clint Eastwood bravado, “you can leave those goons of yours at home.”
The Process men were dressed all in black, with large silver crosses hanging from their necks. They called each other “Brother” and they had German shepherds that seemed to be menacing. The Brothers tried to convince me that Scientology, not the Process, was responsible for creating Charles Manson. But what else could I have expected?
Lee Cole’s role was to provide information on Scientology to the Process. To prove that he wasn’t with the CIA, he told
me stuff about Scientology. For example, he described their plan to kidnap former boxing champion Joe Louis from a mental hospital, so that Scientology could get the credit for curing him. Back in San Francisco, I asked journalist Roland Jacopetti to check that one out, and he discovered that Scientology actually did have such a plan, although it had been aborted.
Not that belonging to the CIA and Scientology were mutually exclusive—infiltration is often a two-way street—but I called up Sherman Skolnick in Chicago, and he apologized for scaring me the way he did.
“You know us conspiracy researchers,” he chuckled. “We’re paranoid.”
In January 2003, Sirhan Sirhan lost a Supreme Court appeal, part of his effort to get a new trial in the 1968 assassination of Senator Robert Kennedy. The justices refused without comment to consider whether Sirhan’s case could be impartially reviewed by some California courts. Sirhan claims that his lawyer at the trial in Los Angeles was working with the government to win his conviction.
On that same day, Attorney General John Ashcroft endorsed giving religious organizations government money for social services, which many critics contend would be a blatant violation of the constitutional principle of separation of church and state. Of course, the Church of Scientology, which has high hopes for inclusion in this ripoff of taxpayer funds, is trying very hard to act normal.
CAMPAIGN IN THE ASS AND OTHER UNFORGIVING MINUTES
SCHWARZENEGGER AND STEWART
Starring in the role of governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger called the legislators who weren’t going to vote for his proposed budget “girlie men.” Although he was attempting to rabble-rouse the crowd, he unthinkingly insulted women, gays and metrosexuals alike. On Larry King Live, Bill Maher referred to accusations of sexism and homophobia as “fake outrage.”
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