I remember thinking, how come the established media never used the word monstrous or like
synonyms in describing years of butchery in the villages of Vietnam. The December 19th
issue of Life magazine, featuring Charles Manson on the front cover, provided the answer.
Not forgetting that thirty years ago "Life" magazine held the contemporary
weight equal to that of the Holy Bible in ancient times, I realized that the Establishment
was now declaring war on the "Hippie Movement."
My prayers and questions had been answered. The subliminal message that
I was receiving from "Life" was "This is it, D-day, Wall Street storm
troopers land on the beaches of California, ready to crush the Hippie strongholds of
Sunset Blvd" (Sunset Blvd was a favorite hangout for hippies). "Go for it,"
whispered my inner ear. This Manson thing is going to become bigger than the Lindberg baby
case and with the proper cultivation from the media even going to over shadow the whole
Vietnam War. In fact, early December's eye-poppin' news item, the newly discovered
massacre of hundreds of woman and children by U.S. soldiers at MyLai, Vietnam, had already
been pushed by the Manson murders to the back pages of the press.
With only a half dozen or so in jail, I knew there must be plenty of
Family members still on the outside to tell the true Manson Family Story. And with time
being of the essence, I immediately began pumping Mark's message service in hopes he was
still in town, alive.
As if Mark had been waiting patiently for my call, sooner than later my
phone rang. I had a hundred questions for him, but narrowed them down to simply,
"when do we start"? With a few phone calls, back and forth, the go ahead was
finalized for the following Saturday morning. After the earlier raid on Manson's compound
in Death Valley and the Family's desertion of the Spahn Ranch, I suspected a secret
hideout, such as the "Chandler House," would be the perfect location. But the
Family enjoyed surprises and decided at the last minute to return to their favorite home,
the Spahn Movie Ranch.
Now, I don't know what to expect. Journalist are pouring in from all
over the world in hopes to win any contact with the notorious Manson Family, and I'm going
to film all of them in the most conspicuous place of all. I made Mark promise that their
return would be kept secret and I promised that I would be there early Saturday morning.
I could never describe the "rush" or "high" (hippie
terms for exaltation under drugs) that I felt just imagining what was going to happen that
Saturday. What if the cops rush in? What if they arrest me? I might have to call my
guardian angels? Or I don't know what. I must prepare a modest crew, so as to minimize
attention. Generators, I must remember generators. Mark emphasized that there was no
electricity, the cops had cut the power on their last raid.
By Friday night the excitement had become so overwhelming, I could no
longer resist telling my good friend and mentor, Jacques Hondorus. Jacques was an older
man, who for many years was a mentor and counselor to the stars (movie stars). To my
surprise, the Manson Family was no surprise to him. Through various movie people, Jacques
had already encountered certain Family members. He warned me of what, he would simply
describe as the practice of Black Magic. Actually, he revealed enough to me to scare the
shit out of anyone, but his most startling revelations would not be exposed to me until
several years later, near his death bed. Lacking much of his inside knowledge, it was
easier for me, not to heed his caution.
Waiting for the sun to announce the first day of filming of "The
Manson Family," I tossed and turned probably all night long. Finally, it was time. It
was going to be a bright sunny day and the morning chill with a cup of black coffee
provided the perfect stimulant. Craig, my trusted friend forever, was right on time and he
would definitely not forget his trademark ice chest full of Coors beer. Ennis, another
good friend, and Scotty, also soon arrived, as well as Ted, our specialist in sound
recording. This was obviously the smallest movie crew in Hollywood history, but I wanted
to be unintimidating to the Family. I hoped that we could in an unobtrusive way, sort of
mingle with and film the "Family" in it's natural habitat.
In a small caravan, we slowly climbed Old Santa Susana Pass road at the
Northwest end of the San Fernando Valley. Upon reaching a clearing, off to the left, an
old run down Western town movie set appeared. And sure enough the "Family" had
already nestled back into their favorite home as if nothing unusual had ever happened.
