Manson: The Life and Times of Charles Manson Hardcover

by Jeff Guinn

  On September 1, the same day the Family began its exodus to Death Valley, ten-year-old Steven Weiss saw a gun lying by the sprinkler in the backyard of his family’s home in Beverly Glen. The Weisses’ lot abutted one of the streets connecting to Benedict Canyon Road and Cielo Drive. Steven picked the gun up carefully by the tip of the barrel—he was a fan of TV’s Dragnet and knew he shouldn’t smear any fingerprints on the weapon. He took the gun to his father, Bernard, who immediately called the LAPD. The patrol officer who responded noted that the weapon was a .22 caliber Hi Standard Longhorn with a missing right-hand grip. The barrel was bent, and there were seven empty shell casings and two live rounds in the nine-cartridge chamber. He thanked the Weisses and took the gun back to the LAPD’s Valley Services Division office in Van Nuys. The gun was placed in a manila envelope, booked into “Found Evidence,” and put in storage in the division’s Property Section.

  Two days later, based on the broken pieces of handgrip found at the Cielo murder site, the Tate investigators sent out a series of flyers to law enforcement officials asking for information on any .22 Hi Standard Longhorn revolver that might have been recently discovered or turned in. In all they sent some three hundred, including to police officials as far away as Canada. But they failed to send a notice to the Valley Services Division in Van Nuys.

  It irked Charlie that Paul Crockett had poached Brooks Poston and Little Paul Watkins. The three of them openly prospected in the Barker Ranch area—sometimes Charlie and the Family encountered them. So Charlie took a shot at making a convert of Paul Crockett. If the Scientology-spouting desert rat could be won over to the Family cause, Poston and Watkins would surely return to the fold, too. Charlie turned on his A game, lecturing Crockett on the imminence of Helter Skelter and the urgency of finding the pit to avoid annihilation. Crockett was impressed—not by Charlie’s prophecies, but the glibness with which he spun his apocalyptic predictions. He made it clear that he didn’t buy into any of it. With Crockett able to resist, Poston and Watkins refused to be wooed back by Charlie, even when Charlie bragged to Watkins that, just as he’d promised back in the spring, he’d showed “Blackie” how to get Helter Skelter started. Charlie also suggested to Poston that a good way to rejoin the Family and save himself from the onrushing black hordes would be to kill a deputy from the desert settlement of Shoshone, the one who hassled Dianne Lake about being underage. Poston refused.

  Rebuffed by Crockett, Charlie tried to eliminate him instead. He asked Juan Flynn to demonstrate allegiance by killing the veteran prospector. Instead, Juan bolted from Barker to join Crockett, Poston, and Watkins. To Charlie, this meant that a rival guru had set up shop to systematically lure away all of Charlie’s people. He hadn’t liked it back in the Haight and he wouldn’t stand for it out in Death Valley. Some of the Family were sent to creepy-crawl the Crockett cabin, getting ideas for how best to attack it. Crockett guessed that something was up. He and the others began contemplating flight. Crockett was reluctant to let Charlie scare him off, but it seemed as though the guy was capable of anything. Everybody in the desert was strange, but this guy set the record.

  In the September 3 edition of the Los Angeles Times, LAPD Deputy Chief Robert A. Houghton admitted that despite interviewing more than three hundred people, the department still had no prime suspect for the Tate murders. Houghton said the LAPD suspected more than one perpetrator, but it wasn’t certain. The department had no idea where the killer or killers were “located at present,” and Houghton had no idea whether they would strike again: “Personally, I suspect not. Professionally, I couldn’t rule it out.”

  The investigators weren’t being lazy or professionally slipshod. While the officers assigned to the Tate and LaBianca cases could have made considerably better progress by sharing information, they individually carried heavy caseloads that prevented them from focusing full-time on any single investigation. Nineteen sixty-nine was a violent year in Los Angeles. Among the 169,922 major crimes investigated by the LAPD, 388 were homicides, up 9 percent from the year before. It was not uncommon for each investigator to be working as many as twenty cases. As widely publicized as the Tate murders had become, that still didn’t excuse the officers assigned to them from working on other investigations.

  L.A. Chief of Police Ed Davis requested patience, particularly since his Tate investigators were combing such a heavily populated metropolitan area: “Unfortunately, the murderer or murderers did not leave calling cards, and in this kind of case you start with 200 million suspects.”

  On September 4, Bobby Beausoleil learned that his trial for the murder of Gary Hinman would commence on November 12. Evidence against him was still being gathered by Los Angeles County officers Whiteley and Guenther. In particular they wanted to question Kitty Lutesinger, Beausoleil’s pregnant girlfriend, but she had dropped out of sight.

  After only a few weeks in the desert, the Family’s supplies of drugs and food began to run out. Missing their evening opportunities for acid trips was one thing, but near-starvation was worse. The Barker Ranch larder was reduced to a sack of brown rice, some dry milk powder, and a container of cinnamon. They did their best to stretch these meager rations while Charlie made an emergency trip back to L.A. in the Family school bus to scrounge food money. With his followers’ larder almost empty, Charlie didn’t have time to cultivate any potential new donors; even if they hadn’t parted under the friendliest circumstance, he hit up people he already knew. Dennis Wilson said he didn’t have $1,500 to hand over to Charlie, and gave him the few dollars he had in his pocket. Gregg Jakobson didn’t have money to spare, but he did advise wild-eyed, frantic Charlie to get back to the desert: “You don’t belong in the city anymore.” Somehow Charlie managed to raise enough money to fill the bus with provisions. He raced back to Death Valley, everyone enjoyed a good meal, and the crisis was averted, though only temporarily. When this fresh supply of food ran out, Charlie would once again have to find money to buy more, and the cycle would only have to be repeated. And how soon before his followers wondered how come there still wasn’t Helter Skelter, and why they hadn’t found the bottomless pit that Charlie assured them was somewhere near Goler Wash? The pressure on Charlie was constant and relentless. Then something happened to ratchet it up even higher.

  Charlie had believed, or at least fervently hoped, that Death Valley was isolated enough to discourage his followers from leaving him. But Family members Barbara Hoyt and Simi Sherri decided to risk it. Slipping past the guards Charlie had posted, the two young women walked for sixteen hours across some of the most inhospitable terrain in the country, finally reaching the general store in Ballarat. They hitched a ride back to Los Angeles, where Hoyt first stayed with her grandmother and then moved back in with her mother in Canoga Park. She expected the Family to come for her any minute, and sat up nights clutching the biggest kitchen knife in the house. Hoyt told her mother everything she’d heard about the Tate and Shorty Shea murders, but her mother didn’t believe it.

  L.A. residents remained frantic for news about the Tate case. On September 19, Los Angeles County coroner Thomas Noguchi held a press conference to announce that he felt certain the five Cielo victims died at the hands of more than one killer. The purpose of the announcement was obviously to give the media something to report beyond the frustrating news that the LAPD continued to make no progress. Besides offering his professional opinion that there were “two, possibly three” slayers, all Noguchi had to offer was that the bizarre features of the crime suggested “possible severe psychopathy [on the part] of at least one of the killers.” He also mentioned that drugs “may have been involved.” Three days later, Los Angeles Times gossip columnist Joyce Haber chronicled Roman Polanski’s September trip to New York, complete with details about a Broadway play he had seen and a stop at Elaine’s, the “haunt for the literary-cum-anything set.” In the minds of the media and the public, Sharon Tate’s death was rapidly evolving from tragedy to entertainment.

  The escapes of Barba
ra Hoyt and Simi Sherri hit Charlie hard. What if they were only the first of many? He berated his guards for letting the girls get away, and gathered the entire Family to announce that any future defectors would be recaptured and killed. They were either with Charlie or against him, he emphasized, and he still carried the authority of the Bible and the Beatles. He had brought them to the desert to save them, and they would show their appreciation by never doubting or complaining.

  The best way for Charlie to keep everyone in line was to make them too tired to question him or run away. He redoubled the daily efforts to find the bottomless pit, making his followers comb every rocky crag and snake-infested hollow. Sometimes their searches brought them near the Death Valley National Monument, an area patrolled by the National Park Service. Charlie taught the Family that one uniformed officer was the same as any other. It was galling to escape to the desert only to find more pigs on guard there. Just like the L.A. County cops and the LAPD, park rangers were their enemies.

  On the same day that coroner Noguchi held his press conference, the Family was searching for the bottomless pit. As usual, they didn’t discover it, but they did find something that greatly disturbed them. A massive earth mover machine blocked a back road that the Family often used. They stripped it of useful parts, poured gasoline over it, and set it on fire, an act of willful vandalism that had predictable consequences. Park rangers investigated and found tire tracks leading to the smoldering metal hulk; they determined that the car driven by the firebugs was a Toyota four-wheel-drive. When the rangers asked locals if they’d recently seen such a car, they heard from several that a bunch of hippies living in the area drove a red Toyota four-wheeler and also had a dune buggy or two. The rangers began searching for the hippies.

  Two days later, park ranger Dick Powell was on patrol in the area when he saw a red Toyota four-wheel-drive in the distance; Tex and several of the girls were out on a ride. Tex managed to scurry off into the brush, but Powell questioned the girls before letting them go. He recorded the Toyota’s license plate number. Back at the ranger station, Powell discovered that the license wasn’t registered to the Toyota. Park Service officials notified the California Highway Patrol, and plans were discussed to send a joint team into the desert to find the car and those who were using it.

  On September 23, Mary Brunner was finally released on probation after serving about six weeks for credit card fraud. She briefly stopped at Spahn Ranch, then returned to her hometown in Wisconsin, where her mother now cared for Pooh Bear. Mrs. Brunner had obtained custody of the toddler from Los Angeles County after the August 16 raid on Spahn Ranch.

  The trial of David Dellinger, Rennie Davis, Tom Hayden, Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Lee Weiner, John Froines, and Bobby Seale, the so-called Chicago 8, on charges of crossing state lines to incite a riot and “engaging in acts to encourage conspiracy” at the 1968 Democratic convention began in the Chicago court of Judge Julius Hoffman. Besides his fundamental conservative beliefs, Judge Hoffman was a stickler for court etiquette. When Seale, a Black Panther, repeatedly called the judge a racist, fascist pig, Hoffman ordered him bound and gagged in his seat at the defense table, then severed his case from that of the other seven. The judge sentenced Seale to four years in prison for contempt, and the Chicago 7 trial continued. To young radicals, it was the ultimate exercise in government suppression of legitimate dissent. Groups like the Weathermen publicly announced plans for violent reprisal, including a “Days of Rage” assault on affluent businesses in Chicago.

  Park ranger Powell and California highway patrolman James Pursell drove out to Barker Ranch on September 29. Though they didn’t know whether they’d find the red Toyota four-wheel-drive there, they knew that hippies were living on the property. But Charlie had almost everyone in the Family out searching for the bottomless pit, and the officers found only two young women. They gave vague answers to questions, and there was no sign of the vehicle. Frustrated, Powell and Pursell headed back out into the desert. Not far beyond Barker Ranch they passed a truck driven by Paul Crockett, with Brooks Poston in the passenger seat. The officers flagged down Crockett, and asked him and Poston if they knew anything about some hippies who drove a red Toyota. It was the opportunity Crockett had been waiting for. He and Poston poured out descriptions of a crazy leader named Charlie and his drugged-out followers, how these weirdos had sex orgies and weapons and Charlie had them all believing that he was the Second Coming of Christ. The Family—that was what they called themselves—talked about killing people and evidently they had. The officers needed to catch them because they were dangerous. What Crockett and Poston claimed sounded beyond belief, but Powell and Pursell decided to check out the immediate area around Barker Ranch anyway. In a deep draw behind the property they found seven young women, most of them naked. Trying not to stare too much, Pursell asked who they were and what they were doing. A slender redhead, who Pursell later learned was Squeaky Fromme, replied flirtatiously, “We’re a Girl Scout troop from the Bay Area. Would you and the ranger like to be our scoutmasters?” Pursell and Powell attempted to question the women, but, as with the two girls they’d interrogated on the ranch, they received only vague, nonsensical responses. With no valid reason to arrest the seven women, the officers reluctantly let them go. But they continued their sweep of the area, and came upon two vehicles concealed beneath tarps. One was a dune buggy, and the other was a red Toyota four-wheel-drive. The vehicles both had gun scabbards welded to their frames, and there was a rifle in each scabbard. The lawmen wrote down the vehicle identification numbers and rushed back to ranger headquarters to check their registrations. Before they left, they removed several engine parts from the Toyota to disable it.

  As soon as the officers’ truck disappeared over the horizon, Tex Watson emerged from hiding. Using parts from another car engine, he replaced what the lawmen had taken out of the Toyota, then drove off into the mountains and hid it there.

  When Pursell and Powell checked the vehicle identification numbers, they learned that both the Toyota and the dune buggy were stolen, the latter just a few days earlier from an L.A. used car lot. At the least, there was a stolen car ring operating out of Barker Ranch. Based on what they’d learned from Paul Crockett and Brooks Poston, it might be something more. Top administrators from the National Park Service, the California Highway Patrol, and the Inyo County Sheriff’s Office began to confer on plans for a joint ranch raid.

  Crockett and Poston left their encounter with Powell and Pursell more shaken than ever. They’d told their story to lawmen who didn’t seem to grasp the enormity of what they’d heard. Charlie and his bloodthirsty bunch were probably going to stay at large, and if they found out that Crockett and Poston had ratted on them they’d be out for revenge. Paul Crockett was a proud man. He hated the idea of Charlie Manson making him run, but discretion won out over foolhardy valor. Crockett, Poston, Watkins, and Flynn sneaked away from Goler Wash and took refuge in Independence, the Inyo County seat.

  Charlie was spooked when he learned about the girls’ encounter with Powell and Pursell, and how the officers had tried to disable the Toyota. He didn’t need more cops coming down on him and the Family. That night he and Tex got into a car and patrolled the area around Barker and Myers ranches. They thought they could see in the distance headlights of vehicles driven by park rangers out searching for them. That was enough for Charlie. He decided that Powell and Pursell would probably turn up next at Myers Ranch. Charlie gave Tex a shotgun and ordered him to wait there in the main building’s attic. When the lawmen approached, Tex should blow them to bits. As Charlie drove away, Tex took the weapon and climbed up to wait in the stuffy, uncomfortable perch.

  September had been such a frustrating month for the LAPD’s overworked Tate and LaBianca teams that neither investigative squad bothered to file a monthly report. They had no idea what to do next. Chief Davis was beside himself—that Sharon Tate’s killers remained at large reflected badly on the department. He wanted the announcement of some ne
w lead, and pronto. Trying to appease the chief, somebody in the department tipped the media that the Tate murder weapon being sought was a .22 with a broken grip. Nobody at the Van Nuys Division apparently paid attention to the resulting flood of stories, but out in Beverly Glen Bernard Weiss did. His son had found exactly such a gun, and they’d turned it in to the LAPD weeks ago. But if it was the Tate murder gun, why were the cops claiming they still didn’t have it? Weiss was puzzled, but he decided to let it go. He hoped that the police knew what they were doing.

  Tex got tired of waiting for Pursell and Powell. While he sweated up in the Myers Ranch attic he started thinking about the bottomless pit and all the effort he and the rest of the Family were expending in the search for it. Maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe Charlie was delusional. Tex didn’t feel like following Charlie’s orders anymore, and Charlie had made it clear he was ready to kill anyone who didn’t.

  The Family had a station wagon parked behind the house. Tex climbed in and raced out of the desert at high speed. He felt that he was running from the rangers and Charlie at the same time. He made it to San Bernardino and called his parents for money to fly home to Texas. When his sister met him at the airport in Dallas she insisted that they stop at a barber’s on the way home to have his hair cut so he’d look like a boy. Small-town Texas had no tolerance for long hairs.

  On October 3, Crockett and Poston met in Independence with Inyo County deputy sheriff Don Ward. Their contact with Pursell and Powell near Barker Ranch was rushed. This time they talked in detail about Charlie and the Family, telling the incredulous Ward about Helter Skelter and the bottomless pit and Charlie’s promise of the Family emerging in hundreds of years to serve under him as rulers of the world. Ward taped the interview; Crockett cautioned him not to underestimate Charlie, “a very clever man [who] borders on genius.” If Ward knew about the anticipated raid on the Family at Barker Ranch, he didn’t mention it. He thanked Crockett and Poston for coming in and saved the tape.