MOST982

The MOST Newsletter Autumn 1998 Volume V #1

ii

Morningstar Banner, free Digger bread and ranch apples at the 30th Anniversary Summer of Love Bash 10/97
Sandi Stein in headband, new tribal members Tom and Annie Lance, and Ramon with silly hat.
(Click on thumbnail for full picture) The April Fool's 1967 Bust
I'm sure most everyone felt badly for the kid who came to set us up for the bust. He was scared to death, yet his conscience wouldn't let him setup a bunch of innocent people. It was typical 'Pig' shit too. Why investigate when you can intimidate? People dealing smack right in front of the police station and they had to go out and setup people in order to make a bust.
Forewarned, as we were, everyone went about 'cleaning house'. In the time between the warning and the bust, people could be seen sneaking into the woods, stashing their dope in various hiding places. It almost became a comical game as some would hunt for a place to put their stash and others would hunt for stashes.
The weekend of the bust I managed to make a trip to the city (San Francisco). I did not want to be around for this fiasco. I wasnt all that non-violent and knew what might happen if I were thrown about by a bunch of pigs. Only those who could take it stayed.
When I got back, after the bust, Sunny told me there were six cop cars, two airplanes and a helicopter involved. She said only one guy got busted for some meth that he had forgotten about in his wallet. There were lots of stories to tell and the bust served up a bunch of laughs around many a campfire. The local sheriff appeared to be a Mack Sennett original.

Easter at Wheeler's Ranch - Michael Morningstar
photo by Sylvia Clark Hamilton

Ray Stinnett, 8/3/97: Hi Ramon, my computer went down a couple of months ago & I lost all my bookmarks & E-Mail addresses, including yours & Lou's son, Bill. Lots has been going on so I haven't had time until recently to renew my contacts. I've read all the memorials on Lou & been digging through the Digger files etc. I've also refreshed my recollections of late spring of 67 when I arrived at Morning Star. I seem to recall you as a tall dark-haired handsome kinda guy who sometimes wore a Nehru collar shirt & a long string of meditation beads. I remember the digging of the leech lines & the subsequent hepatitis outbreak.

I'm sorry we couldn't have shared more that summer & for your having to leave the ranch to get well. I read in some of the pages on Morning Star about John Butler's death in San Francisco. How Sad I was to learn of that ...John was one of the people Sandra (my wife) & I talked with and shared a lot of understanding with having all been from the South. I'd like to share with you some information about myself, stuff I never bothered to tell anyone (as I recall) at Morning Star because MS represented a new beginning for my life... I now wished I had talked with Lou about some experiences we may have had in common regarding the music business.
You see, I hail from Memphis Tenn. & was part of the Memphis Music scene. In 1965 the group I was in "Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs", created a record called "Wooly Bully", it became the #4 record of the year & all that kinda stuff but the Pharaohs later quit Sam for business & personal reasons & I was on my own playing in San Bernardino, Ca. when the Summer of Love vibe enticed me to San Francisco. Three days later I found my way to Morning Star. It was a wonderful time of new experiences & sharing. I loved it so much, I didn't even leave the Ranch when my friends in Memphis called me on the pay phone near the well to tell me that some tunes we had recorded a few months before had been released on Capitol records. I didn't care, I'd rather go swimming at the river and experience life in the Redwoods. I have many reflections of what happened at Morning Star. By the end of summer it was becoming crowded & hard to find a peaceful spot in the woods, so we left, Gandolf knew somebody in the city who had some Good Cheer, so I gave my Gibson Explorer Guitar (given to me by Gibson) & made the long trek back to Memphis & shared the good cheer with all partakers. I went back to playing in clubs with a new lease on life, staying away from alcohol (something I learned at Morning Star) & precipitating the Love Vibe. In 1969 I became close friends with Booker Jones (Booker T & the MGs) & we shared the Vibe & played music together for enjoyment.
I was becoming a prolific song writer & embodied the Vibe in my works. Booker wanted to produce me & eventually got a contract with Buddha Records. He then hired a young man that was the head engineer at a local studio producing commercial jingles... His name was Jim Gaines. We spent most of the summer cutting the album filled with the vibe of Love & Northern California & the most exciting song on the album entitled "Morning Star". In fact, at the end of the summer Jim moved to San Francisco & began producing at Wally Heider's studio acts for Bill Graham & bands like Lynard Skinnard, Hewey Lewis & the News, Santana & many others. I'm happy for his success, however mine was not to be at that time. The album we recorded was turned down because the record company didn't understand the Vibe.
In two years Booker got me a contract with A&M records & I produced another album in Memphis & delivered it to Hollywood but my principals & that of the record industry in the 70's were miles apart so I was released from my contracts & I kept all rights & properties. I went back to Memphis & got involved with & yoga group, organic gardening, home birth etc. Eventually we moved & helped found a spiritual community in the Ozark mountains. Having no electricity, we farmed, carried water, chopped wood & birthed one child. Due to a fire we were dispossessed of most of our earthly possessions, everyone else had already left Dharma Mesa so we went back to the city & proceeded to build our lives over again. That was in 1975, since then we've been steadily trying to climb the ladder of sane success (right livelihood) Sandra & I have brought our five children up to understand Metaphysics & Music & we hope some of the other finer points of life. I think I told you, we now live in southern California.
Recently I have been interviewed for a soon-to-be-released book about popular 60's music groups & after the release of this book I intend to write & publish some of my most interesting experiences in life. I also intend to release some of the music I have created over the years including "Morning Star". My Web site will be the focal point of this effort.
By now your wondering why the heck is he telling me all this stuff?
1. Because I need to share with someone who understands these changes.
2. Because your a writer & we might be able to collaborate.
3. Because your a musician & we might be able to collaborate.
4. Because I would like for you to publish or share this letter in anyway you see fitting.
5. Because I believe the 60's counter culture archives will become more expanded & linked & I would like my site linked at the crossroads
Thanks for reading...are there any plans for reunions or anything happening at the ranch ? Please keep in touch & I'll do the same.Peace & Love,

Ray Stinnett, 5/10/97: During the summer of 1967 I lived at Morning Star on the side of the hill by the creek with my wife & four-year-old son. I came to Morning Star before it got crowded and stayed the whole summer of love, adventure & change. Eventually we felt it was time for us to leave but our love for the whole Morning Star experience stayed with us every where we ever went & is still very much a part of our souls today.
Last summer I was in the Bay area & so we made the pilgrimage back to Morning Star. After talking to the local fire ranger I found out that Lou had died & we missed the gathering At Morning Star by two weeks.... Seems like time just ran away. We felt like a part of our dream had vanished. We had not been back to Morning Star since 1967 & I guess we had no idea what we would find upon the land. We parked in the lot & walked in near sunset & were greeted further up the trail by the person that lives in the dome on the adjoining property. We chatted about Lou & the land etc. & then he left us to look around the land & I was amazed to find it was like a timeless place
...Lou's little house was changed but not that much ...his piano through the window...the memories... the Garden ...The Land... The Feelings of all the people that sought to be free there....Lou's hands off wisdom...the spiritual community that lived the life of a butterfly......I can feel the soul of the land loves the souls of the feet that tread upon the path of the Beautiful Morning Star. I can feel the Spirit of Lou Gottlieb free among the redwoods & the meadows. I feel a deep need coming from the earth & the people for a reunion in the summer of 1997, 30 years, 3 complete 10 year cycles signifies the beginning again. Whoever keeps the Morning Star list, please add my name to it & help me connect up with the contact people or whoever knows the score... and what's up for Morning Star. Do you know how I might get in touch with Lou's son? Peace...

Tomas Diaz, 6/24/98: Various Small Stories
I met Joanie the summer of 1967 at Tolstoy Farm in eastern Washington state, where I was introduced to her by Sylvia. Joanie had flowers in her hair, the color and smell of white roses, with a warm smile to melt away all doubt. A child of the Sixties, the teacher of the future, a blossom in bloom, a whirling skirt of dancing joy.
You have to know my personality at the time of my arrival at Tolstoy. I was a clean-it-up and keep-it-neat kind of guy, everything in its place, staying up all night cleaning and waxing. I was taught by my grandmother to be a nice boy. I was fond of Gandhi and Little Richard. I was working in Seattle where I met Jose Fuentes. He said, "I have a friend I would like you to meet." He introduced me to Sylvia, a cowgirl from California, brown hair in braids, wearing blue jeans, boots, and white Spanish blouse. Sylvia said, "Would you like to come over to our farm for the weekend?" I said, "Ok."
We traveled by Greyhound and then by truck to Tolstoy, a commune named after the famed author. The commune was nestled in a canyon, protected from the North wind. There was a variety of young people who lived there, all under the age of 40. There were about 20 or 30 people already living at Tolstoy, and a few of them worked in town. But, most lived off the land. Their Summer chore was canning and saving for Winter. I was told by Sylvia that the winters were harsh. She showed me the depth of the last Winter's snow by touching her knee. I never stayed that long, and although I was planning to, my stay was interrupted. I was not a casual user of anything. I was not turned on, I didn't care, nor did I want to be. I was aware of the drugs around me in Seattle, but just did not care.
During my first few days at Tolstoy, I enjoyed the freedom and warmth of the people there. This is where Sylvia and Joanie stand out -- Sylvia the lover and Joanie the teacher. It is okay to love your fellow man, which was a simple statement told to me by my friends.
One evening at dinner, we were all sitting at the very long dinner table. The women were running around serving everyone, being mothers (sisters of mercy). I had brown rice, fresh milk, fresh butter, applebutter, and homemade bread. One more item, corn on the cob, turned my life around. Some time during the evening, a decision was made that Tomas would be turned on to some really good shit. I said I really didn't need it, but they said it would be fine. They were right, I was fine. I had been turned on right before dinner by Sylvia.
Now, let's get back to the corn. I was sitting enjoying our dinnertime together. I took an ear of corn, buttered it with my knife, and started eating. Well, wouldn't you know it, I got butter on my cheeks and hands. I looked around for my napkin, but couldn't find one. I was perplexed, to say the least, because what was I going to do. Everyone else was enjoying their dinner totally unaware of my plight. Well, the sisters of mercy understood what was happening right away. I still had my hands in the air, afraid to touch anything. Joanie and Sylvia said to me, so sweetly, that it was okay to rub the butter off on my shirt and pants. I paused, looking perplexed, and they said it again, "It's okay, this is a free country, and you are free to do as you please."
Well, everything was taking effect, and pleasant feelings of warmth surrounded us all. I cleaned my hands on my shirt and pants, and resumed eating my corn. The wonder of the moment was love and pure joy, and I smiled. The sisters of mercy understood it. They were swept up in a tide of pure, emotional joy. Butter was placed everywhere, and everyone was pleased and happy. I was turned on and relieved of my past inhibitions. All three of us ended up in the outside shower, washing the butter off each other.
After the dinner and the shower, the sun was beginning to go down. Sylvia said that we should go over to friend's place, and I said, "Okay." We walked hand-in-hand a quarter of a mile to Tom's and Andie's house where a campfire was going off to the left. There were people sitting around the campfire, singing campfire songs, and passing smoke. Sylvia and I sat down in the circle, and we said hello. We sang and discussed the nature of the world's plight, while the embers turned red. Joanie read to us from Winnie the Pooh by lamplight. She had good taste. "This is where it's at." And, that is how I met Joanie.
I absolutely loved this period of my life. I was taught by Huw, Sylvia's husband, the beauty of Tolstoy and his short stories. Read Tolstoy. You, too, will find the goodness of his thoughts.
The Red Ball Boots
Someone at Tolstoy told me that if I was going to survive the winter there then I would need a good pair of boots. Having money at the time, I decided that the next time that we all went to the Dairy Queen, I would look around town and see if I could find some place to buy a good pair of working boots. Somehow, for reasons unknown to me now, I ended up with a really good pair of Red Ball rubber boots. I guess, at that time, I did not know that boots needed air to breathe. Well, I don't remember the time period we're talking about. It may be Spring (1967 or 1968), give or take a year or two.
Anyway, I cannot wear my dress shoes here at Tolstoy Farm, so I put them up in the attic of the main house. Well, doing farm work was dirty, hard on dress shoes, so I was wearing my work boots. So that Spring and Summer I wore my boots.
When early Fall came around, I decided to go pick apples in the Yakima valley. I had been there in the Yakima valley the year before picking hops and apples. I knew there was good money in picking apples.
I left everything I owned at Tolstoy, knowing that I would be back after the apple harvest. I took only the bare essentials, clothes, and boots.
Well, things don't always work out as planned, and I ended up at the Morningstar Ranch. My Red Balls were still on my feet, with their sturdy steel shank.
A good time was had by all at Morningstar. It was the place to be. Everyone knew that and everyone was there. For some reason, I stood fast and ended up in the poky with Red Balls. Do not forget, this is the story about the Red Balls.
I was having trouble at that time with Doris, the wench in training, the Judge, and poison oak.
Ambo and Kathy said that they we going to New York. Kathy was from Manhattan and Ambo was from New Jersey. Tomas said, "Can I come along?" They looked at me surprised at what I had asked.
We hitched to Colorado where we got a ride from some young woman with two children in a VW van. She was going to New York. Share driving time, thanks. When we got to New York, Ambo said that he was going to New Jersey, see ya. I ended up at Kathy's mother's apartment.
The day finally came for us to leave New York. I tried to look up Jose on the lower east side (another story), but no luck. Ambo came back with a car. All we had to do was to drive it back to California. Ambo said that we were going to stop in Chicago for a day or two to visit his friend Laurel.
Did I ever say that I had not taken off my boots yet?
While driving in an eastern state, I got side-tracked, and Ambo and Kathy went on without me. When I finally arrived at Laurel's apartment in Chicago, I decided it was time to go back to work. Lessons learned with Kyle at the Buddhist Temple in Carmel and the Judge in Santa Rosa. Everyone welcomed me back with a rousing Hawaiian Baby Rose Wood party that went on until Monday morning. Ambo and Kathy said it was time to go back to California. I said that I am staying here and finding a job. This time Laurel looked at me in surprise.
After Ambo and Kathy left, Laurel said I could stay until I got back on my feet, so to speak. Laurel, being a take-charge woman, promptly took me and my boots to a dumpster where I said my fare-thee-wells to the Red Balls. She gave me another bath, with special attention to my feet. We got into her 1967 metallic Sea Green Mustang and headed for the Loop. We parked under the El and walked across the street to a Thom McCann's Shoe Store. She in her tailored suit and I barefoot with my church-colored corduroys and cape (with red patch), and belt made by Sylvia. My first pair of real shoes in God knows how long. A TRUE STORY TOLD AND REMEMBERED

Lou's Retirement Cabin
(Click on the thumbnail for full picture)
photo by Tom Lance The Trip To Morningstar
The Trip to Morningstar really began at Tolstoy farm, a farming community in the Northwest. While at Tolstoy, I decided to go off to pick apples so the commune and I could have some expense money. I left in early September and headed for the Yakima Valley in Washington State. The valley is known for its large, delicious fruit. I had been in the valley the year before picking apples.
I knew when I left Tolstoy that I would make good money because of my previous experience. It didn't take long for me to find a job. I only looked for those groves with trees about eight to 10 feet tall. I told one orchard owner that I was a very careful picker and showed him just how careful I was. He hired me on the spot, and I started working right away. I think I was there for about a week. At night I would sleep under the apple trees in the tall grass, wondering and gazing at the stars. While I was there picking the fruit, a man dressed in white came up to me in the orchard and asked if I was Tomas. I said, "Yes," and he introduced himself as Ramon. I said I knew about him from Joanie, who had frequently talked of him. He said he was with a group of people from Tolstoy. He said Joanie, Nancy, her husband Wally, and their two kids were with him. They were on their way to Morningstar, a commune near San Francisco. They asked if I would like to come along. I don't know why I agreed to accompany them. Maybe I said, "Why not?" Anyway, I left within the half-hour.
We traveled in two vans. Ramon, Joanie and I were in one van, and Nancy, her husband, and the two kids were in the other.
We left the apple orchard and headed South. Upon sighting a national park maybe 50 miles down the road, we headed into it. The two vans pulled into a free campsite where we proceeded to set up camp for the night. I made a pine needle bed, something I had learned to do in my youth. Ramon and Nancy both had Coleman camp stoves to set up. Everybody found something useful to do. After we had settled in, we enjoyed the woods. Later before dark, the women cooked dinner. We all talked and had a good time.
The ritual of finding a state or national park was repeated every day. We traveled sometimes 50 miles a day, and sometimes 150 miles a day. We were in no hurry. I just enjoyed my holiday. On all occasions but one we camped outdoors. Some time during the trip we had a pouring, non-stop rain. There was no chance to set up outdoors, so we set up camp in the men's restroom of a national park for the night. I remember a man coming in, looking around, and turning and going back out.
Nancy had the bright idea that she could go into any town and get food stamps. She had previoiusly worked for the state welfare department. So, at the first town we came to, she told us what she wanted us to do. She explained to everyone what the requirements were for obtaining food stamps in California. Somewhere along the line, she said that I should also get food stamps. I gave her a lot of, "But I... but I... but I's." She persisted that I should also get stamps. This lady had balls. As it happened, we all went to the welfare office and went through the red tape. The welfare people didn't know it, but they had been had by a lady with balls. Five of us received food stamps. I received my share of $50's worth. Nancy and her husband got the most because of the children. Ramon and Joanie fell somewhere inbetween. The vans were loaded down with groceries like a pickup loaded with dirt. We could hardly keep the front wheels on the ground. God, that lady had balls.
Once we stopped at a commune called The Church of the Golden Rule. It was somewhere in California. They had a gas station and a store/gift shop on the coast highway. Down below in the valley they probably had 200 to 300 acres of farmland with beautiful farm buildings that were painted white with red trim. Dairy cattle and horses were everywhere you looked. These were wealthy farmers. They invited us in after discovering that we were going to a commune, because Ramon spoke about Morningstar. They could not see any way someone could have a free access commune without going under, but Ramon said, "See for yourself," and told them about Morningstar.
At another stop, the campground had an adjacent park with a large pool. Everybody went for a swim at midnight in the moonlight while it was unattended.
Somewhere along the line we attended a PTA meeting, where we all sat on the floor with the ladies in the lotus position, while Ramon spoke of alternative lifestyles and communal living. After the meeting we milled around. People asked us questions about what we were doing and why. You can imagine how colorful this was. What a sight! Flowers, beads, feathers, and Red Ball boots.
I really don't know how long it took to make the trip down, but it was quite a spell. I had been on trips before, but this time a fun time was had by all.

Town Trip leaving Wheeler's Ranch - 1970
(Click on the thumbnail for full picture) More Stories for Jade
My stay at Morningstar was short in length, but long in intensity. I wove in and out of the fabric of everyone's lives there. Everyone was always moving from tree to tepee, from city to country. The woven society in flux, the cast always on the move. Freebirds. I was always on the fringes, never stopping, never knowing.
Every person was there for a reason -- some to teach, some to eat, some for the girls, freedom of speech, a movement, anarchy, some to preach to the lost souls, and don't forget the dope. Everyone was there.
You were always amazed. The young man coming by with his cougar made us cautious, brave, and terrified. Santa and all his packs of cigarettes. The young lady on horseback. The Sunday drivers out on a weekend cruise.
Morningstar was full of human souls looking for the meaning of life. Some asked, "Why in the hell am I working?" "What is the point of all this if we're going to blow ourselves to bits?" "Why do people hate me 'cause I'm Jewish?" "Why? Why? Why?"
Lou provided us with the space to try to find answers for ourselves. He was a tolerant man with musical talent. This was not the society that was going to change the world. This was the society that was in itself changing.
We were optimistic, knowing that the world was going to be a better place to live. Well, it is probably a better place. We could go on forever on this subject, but would be all just conjecture.
The stories that I am going to tell all happened in the short space of time that I was either at Tolstoy or Morningstar. They will be not be in any form or design. I have told these stories a thousand times. As Allison and Laurel say, "Do we really have to?"
I do not have regrets or think back and wish that I was back there again. My life has been good. But these tales need to be shared.com. If you have a tale to tell, get online and speak up. Thanks to Lou
Arriving at Morningstar
I remember the first day I saw Morningstar Ranch. We piled out of two vans, Nancy's van and Ramon's. Heaven only knows how many people came out of those two vans -- Ramon, Joanie, and Tomas in one van, and Nancy, her husband Wally, and the two kids in the other van. Maybe more, I don't know. There may have been more, but I do not remember. We had just arrived from Tolstoy.
As soon as I got out, I was introduced to Kathy. As was normal any time someone came to Morningstar, they would be greeted with, "Do have any cigarettes?" Most people would give up whatever they had, ending up as poor as the day they were born. That is why the population of Morningstar was always growing. Kathy had a Hawaiian tan and a smile like Janis Joplin. She was outspoken from the start, language that could only come from New York. She had uncontrollable sun-bleached brown hair on her head and legs. "Jesus, Tomas, you're fucking crazy," she said to me and smiled. Twinkling eyes and teeth, a free soul, spread comfort and radiated life. I loved her from the start.
As soon as the vans were unloaded (we had a gold mine of commodities from our trip), Nancy said, "I've got to score some dope. Who wants to come along?" Kathy and I both said, "Far out," and "Yeah." Kathy smiled. We both climbed into Nancy's van. The kids stayed behind. When we got to the city (San Francisco), we drove around for a while. I really did not care, I had just met Kathy and I was having a great time. Stopping at a curb, we piled out.
We climbed some outside stairs to an apartment door. Nancy knocked on the door. The door opened and a man looked at Nancy, and then at me. He said Nancy could come in, but that I would have to stay outside. I have seen that face before, and his face was paranoia, so I stayed outside. When Nancy came back out, she said that she did not score what she was after. The guy gave her some MDA instead, also some Valium. In the van she said the guy said, "Take the Valium first, then the MDA." She said she had another stop to make. We stopped at this old two-story house on a hill, and we piled out. She said that this was a local band's pad. We entered the old historic house, and the first thing I noticed was the dining room which had a big round oak dining room table. Antiques were scattered here and there. On the center of the table was a large doily with a huge cut glass bowl full of laundry powder. Nancy said something about blue cheer. I remembered using it in the Navy to wash my dungarees. Kathy and I hung around for a while, and Nancy did her shopping.
Before we left, we thanked everyone and said we were grateful. We headed back to Morningstar. We piled out again and Nancy passed out the goodies along with instructions.
Ramon and Pam both speak of the love generated by the MDA. I'll just say that Kathy and I were bubbling over with our new friendship and the vibes just got out of hand. (good vibes) Thanks to Lou
Things done to turn on that are dumb, dumb, dumb
1. Tolstoy: A young man and I dried bell peppers, then chopped and rolled them in cigarette paper, and smoked them. All we got was a very unpleasant warm mouth and throat.
2. Morningstar Annex: Robbie and I picked four cups of morning glories, two cups per man. We each ate both cups, with some effort. It was not a pleasant experience. It was more like eating feathers. There was quite a lot a people around asking what we were doing. When they were told, they just rolled their eyes in amazement.
Tacky, tacky, tacky
Morningstar Annex:
While reading Ramon's 'Morningstar Chronicles', I was reminded of Mystery and his very large tool. This girl and I were visiting Mystery and his girl at one of the Annex's small cabins where Mystery was staying. As we were smoking a little dope, I asked Mystery's old lady how she handled such a large tool. She politely told me that it stretched to fit with no problem. Tacky, tacky, tacky!!!!
What the judge said to me
We were swept up like particles of dust off your kitchen floor. The land was swept clean and dusted.
We were not supposed to be at Morningstar. I was picked up and carted off to jail. I spent my time in jail with other men and women from Morningstar. The history is in black and white. I did not like being in jail, but I was there. I was going to stand my ground for my fellow man.
Things changed and fell apart when it was time to see the judge. I stood firm in my resolve, and I waited out my time in jail. From the beginning during my arrest I gave my name as Tomas and nothing more. I did not have any I.D. with me at the time as it was in a sea bag back at Tolstoy. When the time came for me to see the judge, they led me into the courtroom and asked my name. I was nervous and shaking inside, and my mouth was trying to stutter. I told them that my name was Tomas and that I was a human being, and that was the truth. I had been turned on. I was a proud young man, and I was speaking the truth. Time moved very slowly for me at this moment. I felt that I had given the judge good reason to let me go.
The judge looked me straight in the eyes and said that he was proud that I was a human being named Tomas, but that the wheels of justice were turning, and that he was the Judge.
He said, "You do not want to get caught up in the gears of justice." Time was moving very slowly like a very heavy trip weighted with water. He said, "I will let you stew on this for a while, but if you come back to me and do not give me your full name, I will send you to an insane asylum." He let me go back to the inner part of the holding room in the courthouse.
I thought about the insane asylum. I could see myself painting raspberry pictures and talking to really crazy people. Mentally I was beaten, I was beat. When I went back in, I told the judge my name. The proceedings preceded. Later that day the judge took us all home to his house for dinner.
Downhill and Paranoia
I spent the next few days at the Morningstar Annex as I was asked to do, then headed back to Morningstar Ranch proper. The first night back I was visited by the police, as Ramon so nicely puts it in Home Free Home. The next night I slept under the lower house in the crawl space with the dust and spiders. Not too pleasant a place to crash. "Heh, can I crash here for the night?" God, I was digging like a mole to be more comfortable. Ah, paranoia! I now knew what the word paranoia meant. I was cowering and hiding under a black cloak in the dark. 'My Precious, My Precious, Morningstar,' as I rubbed my hands together like Gollum. At that time I thought I was alone in my hiding. Now after thirty years I know I was not alone.
I was later caught again at Morningstar and set free. I left for New York with Kathy and Ambo a few days later. They wanted me to leave and I left. I left everyone behind.
Yes, everyone was moving away like the spokes of a wheel, the centrifugal force moving you farther and farther apart. This sometimes makes me so sad, losing such friends. You want to reach out and touch them just like Adam and God in the Sistine Chapel, but they are too far apart. Gone forever, living only in my dreams.
I hope they don't say anything about my talking to my friends when I hear them talking on line. Bitter? Yeah! But, I have made one apology and I did meet Laurel. Thanks to Lou
My first few days at the ranch
The first few days at Morningstar Ranch, Kathy was my guide and friend. She let me stay with her on the platform below the barn by the creek. While I was there, I decided to clean up at the small crystal clear creek one morning. I took my toothbrush, razor, and soap down to the creek. I squatted, straddling the creek while washing my face and body. I brushed my teeth and shaved.
I didn't know it at the time that I, Tomas, was an invader. I was apparently invading a small territory. The defense was already in place, waiting, floating, moving like a snake. Unknown to me at the time the invasion force was attacking the predator that was near, using water as its vehicle. I was covering my body with its defensive oil. This is how poison oak came in contact with my body, groin, face, and teeth.
Morningstar had a very nice public bath and shower.
I did not know any history or anyone. Ramon had gone North and brought me back, and the new shower was in place. A new face. In one week I was covered head to foot with scales, the creature from the Black Lagoon had arrived. I took 10 minute showers, trying to wash away the rash. I guess you all wondered where all the hot water went. (To this day I cannot take hot showers, only warm ones. I begin itching whenever the water gets above 100 degrees.) I think this is where I met Doris. She was another sister of mercy. Thanks to Lou
Kyle was about six foot tall, with reddish brown hair and an Indian band in his hair. No shirt, a waist cloth, proud, and proud looking. Looking like an Indian brave, a picture of health.
Kathy meets Kyle and I meet Doris
Kathy was palling around with Kyle. During this time everyone was getting dressed up in their best outfits because something was going on. Kathy was not about to be dressed up. She thought this was just vain bullshit. Anyway, someone (I thought Kyle did) got her to fix herself up, got her bare ass naked (she was always shy about showing her body), and put a patch skirt on her. She had flowers put in her hair, blushed her cheeks, and a flower lei around her neck. She looked like a Hawaiian beauty swimming out to the Good Ship Bounty. God, she was lovely. Kyle knew it and so did I. Thanks to Lou
At this time I was hanging out with Doris, who was staying in the far back right corner of the barn. She stayed in a bunk bed built into the wall. Doris slept in the lower bed. Her light brown flowery kingdom. (If you are the young woman, the sister of mercy, who slept above Doris in that corner. let me know, because I have met a woman here in Kentucky that I thought was you. Laurel says it is not her.)
I remember four of us who used to sunbathe near the barn, Doris and me and another couple. On weekends, the weekend warriors used to set up lawn chairs on the road above the tepee, drink their beer, gawk at the girls, and ask us if we had a good time. At times we would wallow in the mud there while Larry played his guitar.
During the time that I was living around the barn, some young lady (I think maybe it was Pam) came running down to me and said that a young man was threatening everyone up at the upper house. I got up. I believe I was resting and walked up the hill to the upper house. Sure 'nuf, there he was, a healthy looking, blond-haired drunk who was waving a 22-gauge rifle around. Having no sense (which was normal for me -- I understood the Fool on the Hill), I walked over to him. Something about him was familiar, but I had never seen him before that day. I asked him how his brother was who I mentioned by name. He looked at me in shock, totally stunned! I'll bet he was wondering what kind of mystical drug that we had been taking. This young man was becoming a believer. My luck was good that day. His brother was a beer-drinking rugby acquaintance of mine from Alhambra, California. We talked and chatted the day away, and he said he would say hello to his brother, Jack Summers. Thanks to Lou
I guess I thought I was a Prophet
I remember a young man coming to Morningstar in a wheelchair van. He was removed from the van by friends or family. He asked me if it was all right to get out of his chair. I cannot remember what happened to make him come out of his wheelchair. It might have been something I said. He was so excited that he just came out of it. He followed me around for two days, dragging himself and groping along in the dirt, dust flying in the loose dirt, the dirt sticking to damp skin as he was working hard just to be. I did not mind, but it was positively freaking everyone out. During this time Doris was moving away from me into the tepee. Of course I could not understand this and this young man asked/wanted to sleep with me at night, just because he loved me. I told him that it was out of the question. He left Morningstar a little bitter. Things do not always turn out right. Thanks to Lou
Walking To My Mother's
I lived at the Morningstar Ranch during a time frame I am uncertain of (normal for that time period), probably somewhere between 1967-1968.
While at Morningstar, I decided to go to visit my stepmother and half-brother who lived in Santa Paula, California. I do not remember ever telling anybody that I was leaving. The trip was going to take a couple of days, so I put on my grey, wool blanket cape with a patch (which was also my sleeping bag, the patch was from scrape during the quilting bee at Morningstar), my Red Ball boots, corduroy pants, and belt made by Sylvia. I then walked or got a ride out to the highway. Hitching was very easy to do at that time.
When I finally got to the freeway (say what you will), I walked up the ramp, stopped, turned, and immediately caught a ride to San Francisco. Rides were never a problem in those days.
I spent that night under a viaduct somewhere near Santa Something. I made my bed. I was over halfway to my stepmother's home, and it was good sleeping. The next morning, I arose and dusted myself and blanket off. I checked my Red Balls for insects. Done with my morning chores, I headed down the dusty bank to the freeway below. As I stepped onto the concrete, I noticed a police cruiser coming down the on ramp. I had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, so I turned my back to him and started walking.
I heard a swirl of sound, and then silence. I turned and stopped. The cop came over to me and stated that it was against the law to hitchhike on the freeway. I told him that I was walking to my mother's house. He said that if I was going to walk to my mother's house, then I should use the state highways. I told him that this was the straightest way to go and also the fastest since it was straight. I said that they should build sidewalks on the freeway. He said, "Get into the back seat. We're going to see the judge." On the way to the courthouse, he made light conversation about not hitchhiking on the freeway (yeah, free). I said that if they wanted me off the freeway then they should build sidewalks, they build roads don't they? He smiled and said, "Yeah." When we got to police station/courthouse, he put me into a room and said, "I'll be back shortly."
The game begins. I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. Nothing to worry about. Time passes, the walls are nice. (Now's the time to go do what you wanted to do earlier.) He came back a couple hours later and said, "Come with me." We walked into an empty courtroom. The cop told me where to stand, and he sat at the table. We waited a while until the judge entered the courtroom (here comes the judge, here comes the judge). It was still morning. I guess my case was the first thing on that day's agenda. The judge looked at me. He looked at the police officer. He looked back at me. He then asked the police officer what the problem was. The officer said that I was hitchhiking on the freeway. The judge looked at me again and asked if this was true.
The judge wanted only the truth, nothing but the truth. I said that I was walking to my mother's house. The judge said that if I wanted to walk to my mother's house, then I should use the state highways. I told him that the freeways were the quickest and straightest way to go, and that if they did not want me to walk on the freeway, then they should build sidewalks along the edge of the freeways. The judge stopped and stared at me as if I belonged in an insane asylum. I remained standing. He motioned for the officer to come into his chambers. The officer immediately complied. I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. In my mind I see bicycle paths and sidewalks across America's Garden of Eden. Green, lush landscapes with bicycle paths and sidewalks. Friends meeting, men bowing to ladies. People laughing, looking over our cliffs of beauty to the sea. Wandering the lush paths of Kentucky and Hawaii. Watching the sun rising on the shores of Lake Michigan. Walking the path next to the amber waves of grain. Riding your bike from sea to shining sea. Land, roads, sidewalks, and paths as they should be.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, they both came back into the room. The officer motioned for me to follow him. I did. We walked through the police station/courthouse rooms. We walked outside. He then motioned for me to get into the back seat of his cruiser, and I complied. We then drove off. On the road, we make small talk and drove. After about 10 minutes, he stopped the cruiser and said, "This is as far I can go." Were we at the county line? He let me out, and I thank him for the ride. We wave goodbye. Pity the next longhair who tries to catch a ride in Santa Something.
The rest of the trip was uneventful until I got to my stepmother's house. When I arrived at the block that I thought they live on, I looked for clues (I had only been here once before). I walked up the street, dug out a piece of paper with the house number, and walked to it. I went up the concrete walkway, up onto the stoop. I rang the doorbell, and I waited. Nothing happened, I turned and walked to the side of the house, all the while thinking that maybe they are out back. Nothing. As I walked back to the stoop, I noticed a window curtain falling back into place. I stood at the door and knocked on the knocker, lightly. Nothing.
I heard, "God damn!!" "God damn, Dennis, is that you?" coming from the side of the house. It was Tony Stuppy, my stepmother's latest husband. He muttered "Jesus Christ " as he walked around me. Grey wool blanket cape (with red patch), church-colored corduroys, Red Ball boots, and belt made by Sylvia.
I smiled, glad to see him. He was our landlord when I was growing up. He motioned for me to come around to the back of the house. Out back, he said, "Wait a minute." He walked into the house and I heard him say, "Margie, it's Dennis." Margie was forever neat and tidy, with doilies everywhere, a child of the Forties. I heard several "Dios mios" (my Gods), and then she showed herself. Tony said that Gilbert (my half-brother) should be home soon from grammar school. Margie said that I was not coming into the house like that (like what?). Tony said, "Margie!" They looked at each other (I see family in their eyes). She reluctantly waved me into the house. Tony promptly ushered me into the bathroom, and pointed to the shower. Somehow I got clean clothes, a home haircut, but I didn't part with the cape or the Red Balls. Gilbert arrived home from school and we acted like the kids that we were. Margie started cooking while Tony smoked his pipe in his chair. We had a wonderful reunion and supper.
After dinner, Margie washed the dishes, and then baked them in the oven. I swear that this is a true story. A TRUE STORY TOLD AND REMEMBERED.

Previous Page Next Page

MOST Newsletters Table of Contents