LSD (not CIA, JFK) & the summer of "mysticism"

[wood jim]

PRAGMATISM & "mysticism" 

by the summer of 1967,  it was all over.  

Michael (John) Moorcock
 (Ghostwriter) Roger Harris, The LSD Dossier, Compact
Books, 1966.


AND 
Hunter S. Thompson




            Hell's Angels brought the
twenty-six-year-old writer a degree of
             notoriety--and a steady stream of writing
offers. The New York Times
             Magazine in May 1967 published "The
'Hashbury' Is the Capital of the
             Hippies," Thompson's incisively critical
account of the drug culture in the
             Haight-Ashbury section of San Francisco
where he had lived for two years.
             Thompson respected the political activism
of the Berkeley Free Speech
             Movement but found the Haight-Ashbury
dropout hippie culture, like the
             Merry Pranksters, a depressing failure.
"Students who once were angry
             activists were content to lie back in
their pads and smile at the world through
             a fog of marijuana smoke--or, worse, to
dress like clowns or American
             Indians and stay zonked for days at a
time on LSD," he wrote. He also wrote
             that the move from Berkeley to
Haight-Ashbury, figuratively and literally,
             signaled a shift from "pragmatism to
mysticism, from politics to dope, from
             the hang-ups of protest to the peaceful
disengagement of love, nature and
             spontaneity." Yet, the Haight-Ashbury
scene was "the orgiastic tip of a great
             psychedelic iceberg that is drifting in
the sea lanes of the Great Society," he
             observed. A much larger and "more
discreet" population of respectable,
             upwardly mobile, middle-class
professionals participated in the drug culture in
             "peaceful anonymity"--and out of the view
of law enforcement authorities.
             "The only people who can afford to
advertise their drug menus are those with
             nothing to lose," he wrote. "And
these--for the moment, at least--are the
             young lotus-eaters, the barefoot mystics
and hairy freaks of the
             Haight-Ashbury--all those primitive
Christians, peaceful nay-sayers and
             half-deluded 'flower children' who refuse
to participate in a society which
             looks to them like a mean, calculated and
soul-destroying hoax." 

             In "The Ultimate Free Lancer," published
in the Distant Drummer
             (November 1967), Thompson leveled a
frontal assault on the "cheap, mean,
             grinning-hippie capitalism" that had
overtaken the counterculture. 

                 While the new wave flowered, Lenny
Bruce was hounded to
                 death by the cops. For "obscenity"
... and the world we have to
                 live in is controlled by a stupid
thug from Texas. A vicious liar,
                 with the ugliest family in
Christendom.... And California, "the
                 most progressive state," elects a
governor straight out of a George
                 Grosz painting, a political freak ...
Ronnie Reagan, the White
                 Hope of the West.... And then to see
a madman like Ginsberg
                 copping out with tolerance poems ...
Kennedy with his head blown
                 off and Nixon back from the dead....
And there's the chill of it ...
                 Leary's "drop-out generation" of the
1960's. The Head Generation
                 ... a loud, cannibalistic gig where
the best are fucked for the worst
                 reasons, and the worst make a pile
feeding off the best ... all
                 selling the New Scene to Time
magazine and the Elks Club. The
                 handlers get rich while the animals
either get busted or screwed to
                 the floor with bad contracts.

             The New Left and Free Speech Movement of
the 1960s framed Hunter
             Thompson's politics. Pageant magazine
sent him to the New Hampshire
             primary in 1968 to write about the
political comeback of former vice
             president Richard Milhous Nixon, then a
candidate for the Republican
             presidential nomination. In "Presenting:
The Richard Nixon Doll (Overhauled
             1968 Model)," published in July, Thompson
described the "man behind all
             these masks," including an hour-long
conversation with the candidate about
             professional football--"Nixon knows pro
football"--during a limousine ride to
             the Manchester airport. Thompson
unleashed the invective characteristic of
             his lifelong disgust for the politician
who he thought symbolized the
             decadence of American life. Thompson
thought Nixon was "a foul caricature
             of himself, a man with no soul, no inner
convictions, with the integrity of a
             hyena and the style of a poison toad."
Thompson concluded, "I suppose it's
             only fair to say that this latest model
might be different and maybe even
             better in some ways.... But as a
customer, I wouldn't touch it--except with a
             long cattle prod." He attended the
Democratic National Convention in August
             1968 where he was surrounded by
anti-Vietnam War demonstrators, clubbed
             by police, and pushed through a plate
glass window. The Convention
             "permanently altered my brain chemistry,"
he said. He returned as "a raving
             beast" to his new home. 

             Thompson had grown weary of
Haight-Ashbury by the "Summer of Love" in
             1967 when thousands of would-be hippies
arrived on the scene. The "whole
             neighborhood had become a cop-magnet and
a bad sideshow," he wrote later.
             "Between the narcs and psychedelic
hustlers, there was not much room to
             live." He was ready to move with Sandy
and their three-year-old son, Juan
             Fitzgerald Thompson (born in March 1964),
back to New York City where
             he could "whoop it up like Fitzgerald, be
a famous writer." They stopped at
             Aspen, Colorado, a ski resort town where
land values still remained
             affordable. He had been in Aspen a few
years earlier, writing articles on the
             area for the National Observer. Thompson
bought a house and
             approximately 120 acres for $75,000 on a
lease-to-buy deal to avoid making a
             down payment. "Owl Farm" at Woody Creek,
five miles northeast of Aspen,
             became the base for his freelance forays
and retreat for the next thirty years.
             Woody Creek, Colorado, would be to
Thompson what Ketchum, Idaho, was
             to Ernest Hemingway. 

             Aspen quickly became the battleground for
Thompson's bizarre and comically
             theatrical style of political activism.
In 1969 developers and politicians were
             proposing to capitalize on the
underdeveloped potential of Aspen as a ski
             resort with high-priced luxury
condominiums and four-lane highways to lure
             rich tourists. Thompson opposed them with
"the old Berkeley-born notion of
             beating the System" on its own turf and
formed the Freak Power Party with a
             slate of candidates for local offices in
the 1970 election. He was a candidate
             for Pitkin County sheriff. The party
faced the daunting task of getting its
             politically alienated constituency of
"freaks, heads, fun-hogs" and
             "Haight-Ashbury refugees" who had settled
in Aspen after the "Summer of
             Love" to register to vote. The Freak
Power constituency was willing to risk
             being arrested for drug possession--"the
'crime' was worth the risk"--but felt
             that "voting wasn't worth the kind of
bullshit that went with it." Thompson
             wrote, "This sense of 'reality' is a
hallmark of the Drug Culture, which values
             the Instant Reward--a pleasant four-hour
high--over anything involving a time
             lag between the Effort and the End."






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