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       #Post#: 24142--------------------------------------------------
       Αποπαίδια τ&#9
       59;υ κρατικισμ
       ού οι χίπιδε&#
       962;! 
       By: Pinochet88 Date: August 25, 2016, 2:18 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Στο πίσω
       μέρος του
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       σοσιαλιστή
       είναι το πως
       θα αρπάξει
       αυτό που οι
       συνάνθρωπο&#94
       3;
       του
       παράγουν
       και πως θα
       εκμηδενίσε&#95
       3;
       την
       ελευθερία
       των άλλων
       υπό το
       πρόσχημα
       κάποιου
       δήθεν
       ευαγούς
       σκοπού με
       τον οποίον
       θα τους
       ξεγελάσει
       να
       συνεναίσου&#95
       7;
       στον
       εξανδραποδ&#95
       3;σμό
       τους.
       [hr]
       Inside The LC: The Strange but Mostly True Story of Laurel
       Canyon and the Birth of the Hippie Generation Part 2
       Dave McGowan
       Center for an Informed America
       Tue, 13 May 2008 21:58 UTC
       "He was great, he was unreal - really, really good."
       "He had this kind of music that nobody else was doing. I thought
       he really had something crazy, something great. He was like a
       living poet."
       Image
       ©Steven Johnson
       [Today's first trivia question: both of the above statements
       were made, on separate occasions, by a famous Laurel Canyon
       musician of the 1960s era. Both quotes were offered up in praise
       of another Laurel Canyon musician. Award yourself five points
       for correctly identifying the person who made the remarks, and
       five for identifying who the statements refer to. The answers
       are at the end of this post.]
       In the first chapter of this saga, we met a sampling of some of
       the most successful and influential rock music superstars who
       emerged from Laurel Canyon during its glory days. But these
       were, alas, more than just musicians and singers and songwriters
       who had come together in the canyon; they were destined to
       become the spokesmen and de facto leaders of a generation of
       disaffected youth (as Carl Gottlieb noted in David Crosby's
       co-written autobiography, "the unprecedented mass appeal of the
       new rock 'n' roll gave the singers a voice in public affairs.")
       That, of course, makes it all the more curious that these icons
       were, to an overwhelming degree, the sons and daughters of the
       military/intelligence complex and the scions of families that
       have wielded vast wealth and power in this country for a very
       long time.
       When I recently presented to a friend a truncated summary of the
       information contained in the first installment of this series,
       said friend opted to play the devil's advocate by suggesting
       that there was nothing necessarily nefarious in the fact that so
       many of these icons of a past generation hailed from
       military/intelligence families. Perhaps, he suggested, they had
       embarked on their chosen careers as a form of rebellion against
       the values of their parents. And that, I suppose, might be true
       in a couple of cases. But what are we to conclude from the fact
       that such an astonishing number of these folks (along with their
       girlfriends, wives, managers, etc.) hail from a similar
       background? Are we to believe that the only kids from that era
       who had musical talent were the sons and daughters of Navy
       Admirals, chemical warfare engineers and Air Force intelligence
       officers? Or are they just the only ones who were signed to
       lucrative contracts and relentlessly promoted by their labels
       and the media?
       If these artists were rebelling against, rather than subtly
       promoting, the values of their parents, then why didn't they
       ever speak out against the folks they were allegedly rebelling
       against? Why did Jim Morrison never denounce, or even mention,
       his father's key role in escalating one of America's bloodiest
       illegal wars? And why did Frank Zappa never pen a song exploring
       the horrors of chemical warfare (though he did pen a charming
       little ditty entitled "The Ritual Dance of the Child-Killer")?
       And which Mamas and Papas song was it that laid waste to the
       values and actions of John Phillip's parents and in-laws? And in
       which interview, exactly, did David Crosby and Stephen Stills
       disown the family values that they were raised with?
       In the coming weeks, we will take a much closer look at these
       folks, as well as at many of their contemporaries, as we
       endeavor to determine how and why the youth 'counterculture' of
       the 1960s was given birth. According to virtually all the
       accounts that I have read, this was essentially a spontaneous,
       organic response to the war in Southeast Asia and to the
       prevailing social conditions of the time. 'Conspiracy
       theorists,' of course, have frequently opined that what began as
       a legitimate movement was at some point co-opted and undermined
       by intelligence operations such as CoIntelPro. Entire books, for
       example, have been written examining how presumably virtuous
       musical artists were subjected to FBI harassment and/or whacked
       by the CIA.
       Here we will, as you have no doubt already ascertained, take a
       decidedly different approach. The question that we will be
       tackling is a more deeply troubling one: "what if the musicians
       themselves (and various other leaders and founders of the
       'movement') were every bit as much a part of the intelligence
       community as the people who were supposedly harassing them?"
       What if, in other words, the entire youth culture of the 1960s
       was created not as a grass-roots challenge to the status quo,
       but as a cynical exercise in discrediting and marginalizing the
       budding anti-war movement and creating a fake opposition that
       could be easily controlled and led astray? And what if the
       harassment these folks were subjected to was largely a
       stage-managed show designed to give the leaders of the
       counterculture some much-needed 'street cred'? What if, in
       reality, they were pretty much all playing on the same team?
       I should probably mention here that, contrary to popular
       opinion, the 'hippie'/'flower child' movement was not synonymous
       with the anti-war movement. As time passed, there was, to be
       sure, a fair amount of overlap between the two 'movements.' And
       the mass media outlets, as is their wont, did their very best to
       portray the flower-power generation as the torch-bearers of the
       anti-war movement - because, after all, a ragtag band of
       unwashed, drug-fueled long-hairs sporting flowers and peace
       symbols was far easier to marginalize than, say, a bunch of
       respected college professors and their concerned students. The
       reality, however, is that the anti-war movement was already well
       underway before the first aspiring 'hippie' arrived in Laurel
       Canyon. The first Vietnam War 'teach-in' was held on the campus
       of the University of Michigan in March of 1965. The first
       organized walk on Washington occurred just a few weeks later.
       Needless to say, there were no 'hippies' in attendance at either
       event. That 'problem' would soon be rectified. And the anti-war
       crowd - those who were serious about ending the bloodshed in
       Vietnam, anyway - would be none too appreciative.
       As Barry Miles has written in his coffee-table book, Hippie,
       there were some hippies involved in anti-war protests,
       "particularly after the police riot in Chicago in 1968 when so
       many people got injured, but on the whole the movement activists
       looked on hippies with disdain." Peter Coyote, narrating the
       documentary "Hippies" on The History Channel, added that "Some
       on the left even theorized that the hippies were the end result
       of a plot by the CIA to neutralize the anti-war movement with
       LSD, turning potential protestors into self-absorbed
       naval-gazers." An exasperated Abbie Hoffman once described the
       scene as he remembered it thusly: "There were all these
       activists, you know, Berkeley radicals, White Panthers ... all
       trying to stop the war and change things for the better. Then we
       got flooded with all these 'flower children' who were into drugs
       and sex. Where the hell did the hippies come from?!"
       As it turns out, they came, initially at least, from a rather
       private, isolated, largely self-contained neighborhood in Los
       Angeles known as Laurel Canyon (in contrast to the other canyons
       slicing through the Hollywood Hills, Laurel Canyon has its own
       market, the semi-famous Laurel Canyon Country Store; its own
       deli and cleaners; its own elementary school, the Wonderland
       School; its own boutique shops and salons; and, in more recent
       years, its own celebrity reprogramming rehab facility named, as
       you may have guessed, the Wonderland Center. During its heyday,
       the canyon even had its own management company, Lookout
       Management, to handle the talent. At one time, it even had its
       own newspaper.)
       One other thing that I should add here, before getting too far
       along with this series, is that this has not been an easy line
       of research for me to conduct, primarily because I have been,
       for as long as I can remember, a huge fan of 1960s music and
       culture. Though I was born in 1960 and therefore didn't come of
       age, so to speak, until the 1970s, I have always felt as though
       I was ripped off by being denied the opportunity to experience
       firsthand the era that I was so obviously meant to inhabit.
       During my high school and college years, while my peers were
       mostly into faceless corporate rock (think Journey, Foreigner,
       Kansas, Boston, etc.) and, perhaps worse yet, the twin horrors
       of New Wave and Disco music, I was faithfully spinning my
       Hendrix, Joplin and Doors albums (which I still have, or rather
       my eldest daughter still has, in the original vinyl versions)
       while my color organ (remember those?) competed with my black
       light and strobe light. I grew my hair long until well past the
       age when it should have been sheared off. I may have even strung
       beads across the doorway to my room, but it is possible that I
       am confusing my life with that of Greg Brady, who, as we all
       remember, once converted his dad's home office into a groovy
       bachelor pad.
       Anyway ... as I have probably mentioned previously on more than
       one occasion, one of the most difficult aspects of this journey
       that I have been on for the last decade or so has been watching
       so many of my former idols and mentors fall by the wayside as it
       became increasingly clear to me that people who I once thought
       were the good guys were, in reality, something entirely
       different than what they appear to be. The first to fall,
       naturally enough, were the establishment figures - the
       politicians who I once, quite foolishly, looked up to as people
       who were fighting the good fight, within the confines of the
       system, to bring about real change. Though it now pains me to
       admit this, there was a time when I admired the likes of
       (egads!) George McGovern and Jimmy Carter, as well as (oops,
       excuse me for a moment; I seem to have just thrown up in my
       mouth a little bit) California pols Tom Hayden and Jerry Brown.
       I even had high hopes, oh-so-many-years-ago, for (am I really
       admitting this in print?) aspiring First Man Bill Clinton.
       Since I mentioned Jerry "Governor Moonbeam" Brown, by the way, I
       must now digress just a bit - and we all know how I hate it when
       that happens. But as luck would have it, Jerry Brown was,
       curiously enough, a longtime resident of a little place called
       Laurel Canyon. As readers of Programmed to Kill may recall,
       Brown lived on Wonderland Avenue, not too many doors down from
       8763 Wonderland Avenue, the site of the infamous "Four on the
       Floor" murders, regarded by grizzled LA homicide detectives as
       the most bloody and brutal multiple murder in the city's very
       bloody history (if you get a chance, by the way, check out
       "Wonderland" with Val Kilmer the next time it shows up on your
       cable listings; it is, by Hollywood standards, a reasonably
       accurate retelling of the crime, and a pretty decent film as
       well).
       As it turns out, you see, the most bloody mass murder in LA's
       history took place in one of the city's most serene, pastoral
       and exclusive neighborhoods. And strangely enough, the case
       usually cited as the runner-up for the title of bloodiest crime
       scene - the murders of Stephen Parent, Sharon Tate, Jay Sebring,
       Voytek Frykowski and Abigail Folger at 10050 Cielo Drive in
       Benedict Canyon, just a couple miles to the west of Laurel
       Canyon - had deep ties to the Laurel Canyon scene as well.
       As previously mentioned, victims Folger and Frykowski lived in
       Laurel Canyon, at 2774 Woodstock Road, in a rented home right
       across the road from a favored gathering spot for Laurel Canyon
       royalty. Many of the regular visitors to Cass Elliot's home,
       including a number of shady drug dealers, were also regular
       visitors to the Folger/Frykowski home (Frykowski's son, by the
       way, was stabbed to death on June 6, 1999, thirty years after
       his father met the same fate.) Victim Jay Sebring's acclaimed
       hair salon sat right at the mouth of Laurel Canyon, just below
       the Sunset Strip, and it was Sebring, alas, who was credited
       with sculpting Jim Morrison's famous mane. One of the investors
       in his Sebring International business venture was a Laurel
       Canyon luminary who I may have mentioned previously, Mr. John
       Phillips.
       Sharon Tate was also well known in Laurel Canyon, where she was
       a frequent visitor to the homes of friends like John Phillips,
       Cass Elliott, and Abby Folger. And when she wasn't in Laurel
       Canyon, many of the canyon regulars, both famous and infamous,
       made themselves at home in her place on Cielo Drive. Canyonite
       Van Dyke Parks, for example, dropped by for a visit on the very
       day of the murders. And Denny Doherty, the other "Papa" in The
       Mamas and the Papas, has claimed that he and John Phillips were
       invited to the Cielo Drive home on the night of the murders,
       but, as luck would have it, they never made it over. (Similarly,
       Chuck Negron of Three Dog Night, a regular visitor to the
       Wonderland death house, had set up a drug buy on the night of
       that mass murder, but he fell asleep and never made it over.)
       Along with the victims, the alleged killers also lived in and/or
       were very much a part of the Laurel Canyon scene. Bobby "Cupid"
       Beausoleil, for example, lived in a Laurel Canyon apartment
       during the early months of 1969. Charles "Tex" Watson, who
       allegedly led the death squad responsible for the carnage at
       Cielo Drive, lived for a time in a home on - guess where? -
       Wonderland Avenue. During that time, curiously enough, Watson
       co-owned and worked in a wig shop in Beverly Hills, Crown Wig
       Creations, Ltd., that was located near the mouth of Benedict
       Canyon. Meanwhile, one of Jay Sebring's primary claims-to-fame
       was his expertise in crafting men's hairpieces, which he did in
       his shop near the mouth of Laurel Canyon. A typical day then in
       the late 1960s would find Watson crafting hairpieces for an
       upscale Hollywood clientele near Benedict Canyon, and then
       returning home to Laurel Canyon, while Sebring crafted
       hairpieces for an upscale Hollywood clientele near Laurel
       Canyon, and then returned home to Benedict Canyon. And then one
       crazy day, as we all know, one of them became a killer and the
       other his victim. But there's nothing odd about that, I suppose,
       so let's move on.
       Oh, wait a minute ... we can't quite move on just yet, as I
       forgot to mention that Sebring's Benedict Canyon home, at 9820
       Easton Drive, was a rather infamous Hollywood death house that
       had once belonged to Jean Harlow and Paul Bern. The mismatched
       pair were wed on July 2, 1932, when Harlow, already a huge star
       of the silver screen, was just twenty-one years old. Just two
       months later, on September 5, Bern caught a bullet to the head
       in his wife's bedroom. He was found sprawled naked in a pool of
       his own blood, his corpse drenched with his wife's perfume. Upon
       discovering the body, Bern's butler promptly contacted MGM's
       head of security, Whitey Hendry, who in turn contacted Louis B.
       Mayer and Irving Thalberg. All three men descended upon the
       Benedict Canyon home to, you know, tidy up a bit. A couple hours
       later, they decided to contact the LAPD. This scene would be
       repeated years later when Sebring's friends would rush to the
       home to clean up before officers investigating the Tate murders
       arrived.
       Bern's death was, needless to say, written off as a suicide. His
       newlywed wife, strangely enough, was never called as a witness
       at the inquest. Bern's other wife - which is to say, his
       common-law wife, Dorothy Millette - reportedly boarded a
       Sacramento riverboat on September 6, 1932, the day after Paul's
       death. She was next seen floating belly-up in the Sacramento
       River. Her death, as would be expected, was also ruled a
       suicide. Less than five years later, Harlow herself dropped dead
       at the ripe old age of 26. At the time, authorities opted not to
       divulge the cause of death, though it was later claimed that bad
       kidneys had done her in. During her brief stay on this planet,
       Harlow had cycled through three turbulent marriages and yet
       still found time to serve as Godmother to Bugsy Siegel's
       daughter, Millicent.
       Though Bern's was the most famous body to be hauled out of the
       Easton Drive house in a coroner's bag, it certainly wasn't the
       only one. Another man had reportedly committed suicide there as
       well, in some unspecified fashion. Yet another unfortunate soul
       drowned in the home's pool. And a maid was once found swinging
       from the end of a rope. Her death, needless to say, was ruled a
       suicide as well. That's a lot of blood for one home to absorb,
       but the house's morbid history, though a turn-off to many
       prospective residents, was reportedly exactly what attracted Jay
       Sebring to the property. His murder would further darken the
       black cloud hanging over the home.
       As Laurel Canyon chronicler Michael Walker has noted, LA's two
       most notorious mass murders, one in August of 1969 and the other
       in July of 1981 (both involving five victims, though at
       Wonderland one of the five miraculously survived), provided
       rather morbid bookends for Laurel Canyon's glory years. Walker
       though, like others who have chronicled that time and place,
       treats these brutal crimes as though they were unfortunate
       aberrations. The reality, however, is that the nine bodies
       recovered from Cielo Drive and Wonderland Avenue constitute just
       the tip of a very large, and very bloody, iceberg. To partially
       illustrate that point, here is today's second trivia question:
       what do Diane Linkletter (daughter of famed entertainer Art
       Linkletter), legendary comedian Lenny Bruce, screen idol Sal
       Mineo, starlet Inger Stevens, and silent film star Ramon
       Novarro, all have in common?
       If you answered that all were found dead in their homes, either
       in or at the mouth of Laurel Canyon, in the decade between 1966
       and 1976, then award yourself five points. If you added that all
       five were, in all likelihood, murdered in their Laurel Canyon
       homes, then add five bonus points.
       Only two of them, of course, are officially listed as murder
       victims (Mineo, who was stabbed to death outside his home at
       8563 Holloway Drive on February 12, 1976, and Novarro, who was
       killed near the Country Store in a decidedly ritualistic fashion
       on the eve of Halloween, 1968). Inger Steven's death in her home
       at 8000 Woodrow Wilson Drive, on April 30, 1970 (Walpurgisnacht
       on the occult calendar), was officially a suicide, though why
       she opted to propel herself through a decorative glass screen as
       part of that suicide remains a mystery. Perhaps she just wanted
       to leave behind a gruesome crime scene, and simple overdoses can
       be so, you know, bloodless and boring.
       Diane Linkletter, as we all know, sailed out the window of her
       Shoreham Towers apartment because, in her LSD-addled state, she
       thought she could fly, or some such thing. We know this because
       Art himself told us that it was so, and because the story was
       retold throughout the 1970s as a cautionary tale about the
       dangers of drugs. What we weren't told, however, is that Diane
       (born, curiously enough, on Halloween day, 1948) wasn't alone
       when she plunged six stories to her death on the morning of
       October 4, 1969. Au contraire, she was with a gent by the name
       of Edward Durston, who, in a completely unexpected turn of
       events, accompanied actress Carol Wayne to Mexico some 15 years
       later. Carol, alas, perhaps weighed down by her enormous
       breasts, managed to drown in barely a foot of water, while Mr.
       Durston promptly disappeared. As would be expected, he was never
       questioned by authorities about Wayne's curious death. After
       all, it is quite common for the same guy to be the sole witness
       to two separate 'accidental' deaths.
       Art also neglected to mention, by the way, that just weeks
       before Diane's curious death, another member of the Linkletter
       clan, Art's son-in-law, John Zwyer, caught a bullet to the head
       in the backyard of his Hollywood Hills home. But that, of
       course, was an unconnected, uhmm, suicide, so don't go thinking
       otherwise.
       I'm not even going to discuss here the circumstances of Bruce's
       death from acute morphine poisoning on August 3, 1966, because,
       to be perfectly honest, I don't know too many people who don't
       already assume that Lenny was whacked. I'll just note here that
       his funeral was well-attended by the Laurel Canyon rock icons,
       and control over his unreleased material fell into the hands of
       a guy by the name of Frank Zappa. And another rather unsavory
       character named Phil Spector, whose crack team of studio
       musicians, dubbed The Wrecking Crew, were the actual musicians
       playing on many studio recordings by such bands as The Monkees,
       The Byrds, The Beach Boys, and The Mamas and the Papas.
       To Be Continued ...
       (As for the trivia question, the person being praised, of
       course, was our old friend Chuck Manson. And the guy singing his
       praises was Mr. Neil Young.)
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