MANSON AND HIS ZOMBIE ZEITGEISTS

Vincent Bugliosi's "Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders" is the most popularly cited as the primary sourcebook for the infamous Tate/LaBianca killings since it was published in 1974. However, there is another treatment of this story and it was published several years before that, when the killings were only two years old.

Written by Ed Sanders, Bay Area poet and founding member of the 1960's band, The Fugs, "The Family" is a gripping remembrance of the circumstances that lead up to those fateful and horrific nights. Sanders is noted for being one of the first individuals to participate in that era's counterculture and his narrative is vastly different in style than Bugliosi's.

Here is a book review from the 5 November 1971 issue of The Los Angeles Free Press, written around the time it was first published. Following that is a story that has persistently been a thread through the history of Manson and his cult followers; that a vast conspiracy of satanism and murder was underneath it all as described in Maury Terry's, "The Ultimate Evil". Completely true or not, it makes for fascinating reading.

In 1988, People Still Lived in Fear of Charles Manson's "Satanic Network"

Nearly twenty years after the Manson Murders, Michael Bendrix explored Manson’s place in what seemed to be an expanding web of terror

by Michael Bendrixjun | June 1, 1988 | lamag.com

Marina Habe’s body was found on New Year’s Day, 1969, by a dog. The body had been tossed to the bottom of a ravine off Mulholland Drive, and when police arrived, the dog’s owner said he wanted to be sure his name got in the paper.

Every detail of Marina’s murder and the time on either side of it left some sliver of absurdity. She was 17, coming home alone late at night from a date, got to her driveway and then, as her mother watched from a window—awakened by the sound of a racing engine and not knowing whether the man standing beside her daughter’s car was friend or foe—disappeared into another car. The coroner said she was held for a day, fed, raped, and stabbed.

The murder was never solved. A detective on the case believes Marina was the random kidnap victim of a dope dealer-biker nicknamed Spanky, now dead, but the evidence is inconclusive. Others familiar with the case believe it may have been the work of Charles Manson’s “family”; the Tate-LaBianca murders occurred nine months after Marina’s. A newscaster at the time of the Manson trials even suggested that Marina had connections with the Manson Family, but I’ve always thought that extremely unlikely because she had been living out of the state until a week before her death, and anyone who knew her—I’d grown up with her off and on—could tell you that Marina, a devout Catholic, would never willingly have anything to do with the likes of Charles Manson.

She was missing for two and a half days before her body was found, and of all the horror that circulated through the little bungalow off Doheny where her mother lived, certainly the worst was the horror that settled into the eyes of her mother. “Why don’t you take me?” she often shrieked during those two days as she lay on her bed, her hand on the telephone waiting for a ransom call that never came. Sometimes she would cover her face with her hands, and through her fingers you could see her screaming, but she made no sound.

Three years later, Marina’s mother married my father, whom she had known for many years, and together they have recovered. Progress has been gradual and erratic, broken easily by the prisonlike fact that Marina was an only child. Now, 20 years later, Marina’s mother has finally developed the strength to separate herself from that time, not to forget or to accept, but to unlock herself from an obsession. Her one remaining guilt is that she wishes she had done more herself to try to solve the murder.

A murder, and an unsolved one at that, inevitably permeates a family, leaving races of guilt, resentment and, above all, cynicism. The stain never quite comes out of the memory, and memory itself is forever stimulated by pictures on a living-room table, by letters and diaries in a bottom drawer, by odd belongings that from time to time reappear in the back of a closet or hidden in the garage. The memory is also in the survivors, in the faces of my stepmother and my father and, I suppose, to a lesser degree, myself. Ironically, it was in the days just before her murder that Marina and I became closest.

The problem is that the original questions have never been answered, and so, of course, the stain can’t be removed. Can the murderer, or murderers, still be out there? What was the motive? What were the circumstances? What was the story that goes along with the facts?

It was in the hope of finding the story, or at least completing a scene of what might have happened, that I became so fascinated by The Ultimate Evil, a book by an East Coast journalist named Maury Terry. The book shed new light on things; on the Manson murders in particular, and above all on what the people may have been like who murdered Marina. After reading Terry’s book, I reached him and arranged to meet him in Los Angeles, so that we might talk about his book and about what I assumed was his obsession.

The Ultimate Evil, published just a year ago (it has sold an impressive 50,000 copies, mostly on the East Coast), presents evidence for an extraordinary assertion: that a single satanic network, existing primarily in California, Texas and New York, has carried out, or has been involved in, numerous murders including among many others, the Roy Radin murder in Copco Canyon in 1983; the Son of Sam serial killings in New York City in ’76 and ’77; the bizarre ritual murder of Arlis Perry, a Stanford University graduate student’s wife, in 1974; and finally, the crime of crimes, the August 9, 1969, so-called Helter Skelter killings of Sharon Tate, Jay Sebring, Abigail Folger and Wojiciech Frykowski, followed the next night by the murders of Leno and Rosemary La Bianca.

Terry’s book, which focuses on the Son of Sam shootings and revelations by David Berkowitz himself, is in part a record of Terry’s struggle against the popularly held belief that Berkowitz did all the shootings and that he did them alone.  Moreover, it was an investigation by Terry and a handful of others that established a link between Berkowitz and a satanic cult operating in Westchester County, a link that units of the New York Police Department have been investigating for the last two years.

Terry himself is now working closely with police in Southern California and New York. His evidence for a nationwide satanic network is based on testimony from a variety of sources, including Berkowitz, prison informants, undercover police and FBI operatives, as well as former Satanists. The portrait Terry paints is that small groups of dedicated devil worshipers in New York, North Dakota, Houston and Los Angeles who willingly put themselves in the service of others—drug lords and power brokers in need of reliable assassins.

The specific connections Terry establishes between the Manson murders and the Son of Sam shootings is this: Although Manson and David Berkowitz never knew each other, they both belonged—at different times and on different coasts—to the same umbrella satanic-cult organization, called the Process. Also known as the Church of the Final Judgment, the Process was begun by Robert deGrimston—a disciple of L.Ron Hubbard, the creator of Scientology, and a student of the late Aleister Crowley, the notorious devil-worshiping Englishman who once described himself as “the wickedest man in the world.”

According to Terry, deGrinston, who now lives on the East Coast, met Manson on at least one occasion, in the spring of 1968 at a residence in Topanga Canyon. Moreover, says Terry, deGrimston traveled in some of the same social circles as Manson—and also, interestingly, Manson’s victims. According to Terry, these circles were all at least tangentially linked. One was the Sharon Tate circle that included Jack Nicholson, Robert Evans, John and Michelle Phillips, Jay Sebring, Warren Beatty, Jane Fonda, Peter Sellers, Wojiciech Frykowski and Abigail Folger. Another circle, the one Charles Manson has most often been associated with, included Doris Day’s son Terry Melcher and Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. Still another circle revolved around Mama Cass Elliott and included someone that Terry in his book calls Manson II. According to Terry, Manson II is as terrible a figure as Charles Manson and clearly a satanist.

The link between Charles Manson and satanic cults is not new. In his 1971 book, The Family, Ed Sanders described how in 1968 Manson was involved not only with the Process but with a chapter of another cult known as the OTO (or do Templis Orientis), whose headquarters were in the Blythe. The leader of this particular OTO chapter was Georgina Brayton, a long-time Satanist who believed that a racial war between blacks and whites in Los Angeles would erupt in the summer of 1969. The notion of race war was, of course, one of the key themes in Manson’s vision of Helter Skelter.

But Terry’s assertion goes beyond Helter Skelter and the idea that by framing blacks for the murders of whites, a race war would destroy Southern California. Terry argues that the Tate murders had to do with drugs, one of the original police theories. As for the LaBianca murders, he thinks they may have been either an effort to cover up the true purpose of the Tate killings or, possibly, another hit based on Rosemary LaBianca’s alleged LSD dealings.

In The Ultimate Evil, he quotes an un-named ex-FBI operative as saying: “Frykowski was the motive. He had stung his own suppliers for a fair amount of money, and that didn’t go down well at all with the people at the top of the drug scene here. And to make it worse, he was upsetting the structure of the LSD marketplace by dealing outside the established chain of supply. He was renegade.”

According to Terry, while the sale of street drugs was controlled by motorcycle gangs, particularly Hell’s Angels, upscale distribution was handled by a pyramid-shaped chemical-dope organization that included, among other high-ranking members, “a former Israeli who had strong links to the international intelligence community.” It was these people, Terry says, who, knowing Manson’s satanic background and his vision of Helter Skelter, offered Manson some kind of contractual arrangement—not money, but perhaps help in his recording career—in return for which Manson arranged the deaths of Frykowski and Abigail Folger, then living with Sharon Tate while Tate’s husband, Roman Polanski, was in Europe. Folger was a target apparently because she was helping Frykowski finance his drug dealings.

Moreover, according to Terry, there may have been a personal motive for Manson to want to kill Folger. A former undercover FBI operative told Terry that Folger had met Manson in San Francisco and had even given him money. “Manson turned against Folger,” the informant told Terry, “when she refused to lay out any more bucks for him and also because she wouldn’t come across for him sexually. Charlie wanted to make it with her, but she shot him down.”

I asked Vincent Bugliosi, Manson Family prosecutor and author of the bestseller Helter Skelter, what he thought of Terry’s book. Bugliosi said he had not read it; he sticks to his conviction that the motives for the Tate-LaBianca murders were: (1) Manson’s desire to create Helter Skelter; (2) Manson’s feelings of rejection from the social circles his victims traveled in; and (3) Manson’s intense preoccupation with death and murder.

“We’re in the area of speculation,” Bugliosi says. “It’s like the JFK assassination: No one comes up with hard evidence. There simply is no hard evidence that drugs were the motive. As for the suggestion that Manson killed the LaBiancas to cover up the first night’s murders, don’t forget that he had Susan Atkins put Mr. LaBianca’s wallet in a service station in what he thought was Pacoima—in the heart of the black community in the Valley—but was actually Sylmar, in the hope that a black person would find the wallet, use the credit cards and be blamed for the murders. Everything Manson did supports what he told his followers: that Helter Skelter was about to begin. I don’t know of any other motives he had. Perhaps there were some, or maybe Charlie’s the only one who really knows what his motives were.”

Terry strongly rejects the word speculation: “I have an FBI operative who was at dinner in San Francisco with Charles Manson, Abigail Folger and Manson Family member Shorty Shea in September 1967—two years before the murders. That alone changes the whole case. I’m not saying Helter Skelter was not a motive; I’m only saying that a stronger motive was a drug burn.”

“Terry points to another piece of evidence he has come up with, something that Son of Sam David Berkowitz revealed through a fellow prisoner, something involving the man Terry calls Manson II. In fact, Manson II appears to be the link between major satanic groups in Los Angeles, Houston and New York and the one person who may have played a prominent role in the Son of Sam shootings in New York, the satanic murder in the Stanford University Memorial Chapel and the Roy Radin murder in L.A.

According to Terry, Berkowitz told him that during a meeting of Satanists in New York, Manson II claimed Charles Manson “volunteered” to commit the Tate murders for a specific motive, beyond Helter Skelter. But Berkowitz did not reveal to Terry whether Manson II had explained exactly what the motive was.

Why give this strange man, Manson II, credibility? Terry says that one reason is because in 1968 Manson II hung out in the same social circles as Charles Manson; what’s more, he was a member of the very drug organization that wanted Frykowski and Folger eliminated.

It was one of those heavy, lukewarm lemonade-colored days when Maury Terry and I drove up Benedict Canyon to the house on Cielo Drive that was the scene of the Tate massacre, and then later out to Copco Canyon, where Roy Radin’s body was found. A long drive to see a couple of murder sites and get some pictures for Maury, whose study of cults has left him something of a celebrity. He has talked the talk-show circuit; done Geraldo Rivera; and recently, he spoke before a special conference of law-enforcement officials in Rhode Island. He’s been to the studios to talk about film possibilities from his book, and always when he returns home there are telephone messages from parents, police and prisoners, everyone either requesting help to solve a crime or offering information or telling him still another story about the devil.

With all the time he’s spent in Mephistophelian territories, Maury was not what I expected. There was not the residue I would have thought, not the stain of thinking about something for too long, the stain I know so well. No apprehension, no fear, just fatigue.

An anecdote told to me by a private investigator named Judy Hanson best describes the man: “When Maury came out to California in 1987 to investigate the death of Roy Radin, I was helping out and chomping at the bit to get started, but we had to shelve everything until after the Super Bowl. That’s the funny thing about Maury: He’s not obsessed by what he does. He just stumbled into it, and frankly, he’d be the last person to go looking for something like Satanism. It’s too West Coast for him, too weird.”

Maury grew up in Yonkers, New York, played three sports in high school, went to Iona College, got a job as a business writer and later as a journalist with the Gannet newspaper chain and the New York Post and hasn’t missed a New York Giants home game in 14 years. He’s a neighborhood guy, goes to a bar near where he lives called TGIF, plays gold and watches The Golden Girls on Saturday nights. His favorite movies include old John Ford films, particularly The Searchers with John Wayne. It was an interest in the Son of Sam case and a stubborn sense that “things didn’t add up” that sent Maury down the path to the devil.

After spending so much time investigating the dark side of the word, he often sounds more like a cop than a journalist: “I don’t care if they’re Satanists or aliens or longshoremen, “ says Terry. There’s a body, and somebody pulled the trigger. I look upon it as an investigation. I don’t get wrapped up in the religious aspects. I have friends who have gotten too caught up in this. They lost the ability to handle an investigation because they saw it as a crusade, and when you become a zealot make mistakes: You want things to be there that aren’t.”

At 41, Maury likes what he’s doing, but he’d prefer to write novels. In the meantime, he’s committed to writing a pair of books about Satanism. After that maybe fiction, something along the lines of Ludlum.

As Maury knelt for his portrait outside the gates of the Tate house, a neighbor approached. He was angry. “You see what you’re causing?” he said. “You’re encouraging more people to come up here even after all these years. And for what? Not for altruistic reasons. You’re up here writing a story to make a buck. Well, everybody’s fed up with it. I could get awfully nasty if I wanted to.”

He was nasty enough already, I thought, and fortunately we were almost finished shooting. I could well imagine his frustration with the National Enquirer image the place has inherited, yet there is something about what happened in that house and, by extensions, in this city, something to be remembered. It should be a monument to the nature of illusions, I thought to myself. The victims believed they were safe, that their California lifestyles were free. Similarly, the killers assumed they were safe, so long as Charlie wasn’t angry and so long as their drug-enriched dreams were not broken.

After Cielo Drive we drove north to Copco Canyon, 60 miles up Interstate 5 at the top of the Grapevine. It’s the Hungry Valley Road exit. Back up in there is a short, narrow valley marked by a one-lane dirt road and a dry streambed and surrounding hills that from a distance have the texture of mange on a dog’s back. Back up there is where, in June 1983, a beekeeper smelled the remains of Roy Radin and contacted the police. As we drove to the spot, Maury told the tale of Radin, dead at 33.

He was a concert promoter, a millionaire many times over by the time he was 25. He kept old acts alive, acts like Milton Berle, Red Buttons and Tiny Tim. He was also a decadent man whose kinky parties, held at his mansion in Southampton, Long Island, were well known to police. He also dabbled in Satanism, and Terry believes he was the chief sponsor of at least some of the Son of Sam shootings.

Before he died, Radin was trying to get into the movie business and was negotiating a deal with producer Robert Evans, then looking for $35 million to finance The Cotton Club. It was Radin’s old friend Elaine Jacobs, ex-wife of a big-time Miami cocaine dealer, who put Radin and Evans together.

But things went awry. In May 1983 there was a falling out between Evans and Radin over the issue of participation in Cotton Club. Evans apparently suddenly found himself in a minority position in his own project and tried to buy Radin out. But Radin resisted.

On the night of Friday the 13th, Radin got into a limousine with Jacobs outside the Regency Hotel in Hollywood. They were supposed to have dinner at La Scala, but they never made it, and sometime that night Radin disappeared.

Actor Demond Wilson, who played Redd Foxx’s son in the TV series Sanford and Son and whose careeer Radin had managed from time to time, acted as Radin’s armed bodygaurd on this particular night—Radin had wanted somebody to stay with him that night because he had received several recent anonymous threats. Radin’s regular bodyguards were in New York, and it was Wilson’s job to trail the limo with his boss and Jacobs, but Wilson could not keep up in heavy traffic.

What actually happened that night can only be surmised. In The Ultimate Evil, Terry claims that while Jacobs’ lawyer never allowed her to be questioned by police, she told Tadin’s personal secretary at the time that she and Radin had quarreled on the way to the restaurant, and when they stopped for a red light on Sunset Boulevard, she got out. Later in the same conversation, according to Terry, she changed her story and insisted is was not she but Radin who had left the car.

Radin was taken to Copco Canyon, where he fought with his kidnappers, or perhaps was permitted to make a run for it, and was then gunned down. He was found on his back, his body badly decomposed, his hand still holding onto a shrub branch. According to Terry, the police’s main suspect in the Radin murder is Manson II. It was he, they believe, who drove the limo that night.

And who is Manson II? Terry, who has seen his picture, describes him as five-foot-ten, 180 pounds, with dirty blond or brown hair, sometimes with a mustache. He was born in November 1948, has a high-school education, spends time with weights to keep himself in shape and works as a bodyguard, often for celebrities. He lives in Hollywood and uses a store in West Hollywood for a mail drop.

According to Terry, Manson II has been involved with satanism since he joined the Process, probably in 1968, and he once tried to commission an artist to paint pictures of human sacrifices on the walls of a nightclub. (The artist declined the offer.) He has an arrest record and is a top suspect not only in the Radin case but in an organized-crime disappearance/murder that took place in Washington, D.C., in 1977. Terry also says he has evidence that puts Manson II in one of the Son of Sam shootings, also in 1977.

We arrived in Copco Canyon, and Maury found the spot where Radin’s body was discovered. It was here, two months after police had found the body, that Maury made his own amazing discovery—a King James Bible, missed by police because it was so far under the shrubbery.

The Bible was significant for several reasons. First, it confirmed what Terry had been told by informants—to look for a satanic sign at the murder site. But it also suggested something about the police’s main suspect, Manson II, and confirmed Terry’s own suspicions about Manson II’s satanic connections. “It was deliberately folded open,” Terry wrote in his book about finding the Bible, “bent at the spine so that its left-hand pages were beneath those on the right. To ensure that it remained open to the intended passage, the front cover and the first few hundred pages had been torn off.”

The intended passage was Isaiah, Chapter 22, which reads, in part, “toss thee like a ball into a country and there thou shalt die … And behold, joy and gladness, slaying oxen, and killing sheep, eating flesh and drinking wine; let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we shall die.”

Terry believes that this particular passage was deliberately left as proof that the people who did the killing were satanists—ironic because Radin himself had dabbled in satanism.

The most frightened part of what Terry is suggesting, of course, is that most of the satanic groups that were actively involved in crime in the ‘70s are still in place and still active. Furthermore, he says, they have become increasingly involved in child pornography and cocaine distribution. He insists that police are aware of the organizations and often swap information with him, but they are slow to pick up on the vast threat posed by satanists.

“If you’ve got an organization that can boast David Berkowitz and Charlie Manson among their members,” Maury told me when we left Copco Canyon, “then you’ve got a fairly dangerous organization. And there’s no indication they’re stopping.”

In fact, he added, David Berkowitz—whose information Terry insists has turned out to be extremely accurate—has told him that the headquarters of the many disparate satanic organizations involved in crime is in Venice, California, and that the most active of all these groups includes approximately 50 people, some of whom are locally well-known art gallery owners.

A few days later, Maury and I talked about Marina. I even introduced him to the detective who had worked on the case the longest, the one who believes Marina’s murderer was the biker named Spanky. Maury thought the evidence against Spanky tenuous at best and was skeptical of the way the police had handled the investigation.

In an unsolved murder, the police are often made to be the scapegoats by the victim’s family: In a curious way, that’s somehow more reassuring than the thought that all the available expertise and technology still couldn’t solve the crime. What kind of criminal could carry out so perfect a crime? Maury’s doubts about the police’s handling of Marina’s case coincided with everything my stepmother felt, though my father was less convinced. In any event, he had little desire to awaken his old nightmares.

As for Maury, he has promised to look into Marina’s murder. He’s in touch with people on both sides of the prison walls. Perhaps someone remembers an old story that always stuck in the mind.

Ironically, his efforts have rejuvenated my stepmother, brought her a miraculous energy and a new belief that even if Maury finds nothing, she may be nearing an end to this stage of her grief. She can now say that she has made an effort, even after all these years, and that for better or for worse, now may be the time to put the past away. Whether she can actually do that, particularly if Maury can’t provide any new details, is difficult to say.

As for myself, reading Maury’s book has opened a strange door. I’ve reread the two classic Manson books, Helter Skelter, and The Family. There are still parts of those books I can hardly manage, scenes that generate an extraordinary physical reaction, and overwhelming urge for revenge and the fantasy to be back at that time, warn people, to change history.

After Maury, the detective, my father and I had lunch to discuss Marina, my father and I drove up to Mulholland Drive to see the place where Marina’s body had been dumped. There was a real April shower that day. A good view had gone gray. The hillsides were a rusted-hull color. No people, no cars. No dog.

My father shivered in the cold as he pointed down the ravine. There was a shelf of ground with trash on it, and beyond the shelf a long, steep drop to the bottom. “Down there,” he said.

We stood and looked, and there was nothing to see. I tried to imagine the tumbling of her body and the  moment before that, the toss itself, and then back further into the hands that held her and then up into the mind that controlled the hands. I tried to fight my way through all the years since it had happened and through all that I didn’t know, struggling to penetrate the heart of someone I could only crudely imagine. I tried for an instant, but that seemed like a dead end.

Then this occurred to me: I don’t think Marina’s killer acted from an intellectual need to prove he could kill someone. Undoubtedly, he acted on impulse. Sometime during the 14 minutes police estimate it took Marina to drive home from her date’s house, someone saw her, followed her, grabbed her. But what was it about her that so caught him? Did she remind him of someone else? Was it her beauty? Or her manner? Whatever it was, the killer took a bold step—to follow her into her own driveway. The act suggests someone not thinking, just acting. A man, most likely, whose killer instinct was triggered by something in Marina, who, whatever her worst faults may have been, was not an evil person.

Maury believes that evil is simply an absence of good, but I think evil feeds on good, that you can never have one without the other, that something in the one ignites the other. It’s not much to go on, but if I have nothing else from Maury Terry, then at least now I have a theory about the forces that caused Marina Habe’s murder.

“C’mon,” my father said. “Let’s get out of here.” And we did.

RESURRECTING CHARLES MANSON

After all these years, Charles Manson continues to fascinate. A trailer has been released for the upcoming horror film, THE RESURRECTION OF CHARLES MANSON coming this March. Starring Frank Grillo (and directed by his son, Remy) as a cult leader, he hatches a twisted plot and abducts a young couple for sacrifices to raise Charlie from the dead.

Here's the 4-1-1:

The exclusive trailer takes us to the desert of California, where a young couple is shooting an audition tape for an upcoming movie based on Charles Manson. One of the grimmest figures in US history, Manson was a cult leader who used sweet promises of community to convince his followers to perform brutal crimes. In 1969, Manson’s followers killed nine people in four locations, including rising Hollywood star Sharon Tate, the wife of filmmaker Roman Polanski. Despite the barbaric murders committed by the Manson Family, the cult leader remains an influential pop figure, which The Resurrection of Charles Manson trailer promises to deconstruct by showing the violent consequences of Manson’s philosophy.

Cut out from civilization, the young couple in the trailer will meet real Manson followers, led by Grillo. The cultists want to use the young couple in a human sacrifice, hoping to bring their leader back from the dead. It’s a curious concept brought to life through never-wrecking imagery. And while Manson’s history already inspired dozens of movies, from The Invitation to Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, the exclusive The Resurrection of Charles Manson trailer does promise the film is doing something new with Manson’s legacy by showing the dangers of worshipping a serial killer.

The Resurrection of Charles Manson is the feature directorial debut of Frank Grillo’s son, Remy Grillo. The script was penned by Brev Moss and Josh Plasse. Plasse also stars in The Resurrection of Charles Manson, together with Jaime King (Sin City), Sydelle Noel (Black Panther), Will Peltz (The Collection), and Katherine Hughes (Me and Earl and the Dying Girl).

[SOURCE: Collider.com.]

. . . And a strange story about Manson as a failed musician:

CHARLES MANSON AS THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN

"If you ever decide to leave, I'll take you and hang you upside down, and slit your throat, and use you as an example for everybody else."

- Charles Manson to Susan Atkins

Author Jean Stafford won the O. Henry Award for a short story in 1955, and a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1970 for her collection of short stories. That same year she penned a non-fiction piece for McCALL'S for their special "Occult Explosion" issue (see last Friday's WOM post). Her eruditely-written article was not on Astrology, the Tarot, ESP or any of the other mystical topics of the day -- it was on Charles Manson and the Tate/LaBianca Murders and its "demonic" influence on society.

The perpetrators had been arrested and imprisoned and there were enough facts about Manson and his followers to allow a fair assessment of the cult's infrastructure and the personality types that were seduced into the inner circle.

One of the more interesting threads that Stafford discusses is the analogy between Manson and "The Old Man of the Mountain", the Shiek-al-Jabal that ruled the infamous assassins. The comparison is uncanny.

THE MANSON MURDERS: AN ORAL HISTORY (PART 2)

Catherine Share: Former Family Member

PHOTOGRAPHED BY FRANK OCKENFELS

X. THE FAMILY
The Family had many hangers-on, but the core group was no larger than 30. They squatted all over Los Angeles, surviving on food scrounged from grocery store Dumpsters. During the summer of 1968, the group lived in the Pacific Palisades home of Beach Boy Dennis Wilson, wreaking thousands of dollars in damages. (Wilson had picked up two female Family members hitchhiking one afternoon. The next thing he knew, Manson had moved in.) Spahn Ranch, however, became the Family’s base.

BUGLIOSI Manson was the king of Spahn Ranch, the maharaja.

PURSELL Manson clearly held himself above the others. They dressed in rags. It looked like they’d robbed a Goodwill store. But Manson dressed in a buckskin shirt with fringe down the sleeves and buckskin pants with fringe down the legs. The girls had sewn the outfit for him.

BUGLIOSI In the hierarchy of the Family, the men were on top and the women had only two purposes: to procreate and to serve the men. If Charlie could have done it, he’d have kept women out. But he needed them—to attract more men.

STEVEN V. ROBERTS, Los Angeles bureau chief of  The New York Times. He is 66 and a professor at George Washington University. I met the Manson women when I wrote a piece for The New York Times Magazine called “Charlie Manson: One Man’s Family.” I spent a lot of time with them. This was early—right after Manson was charged with the murders. I got to know Squeaky Fromme and Sandra Good before they became media freaks, and what I came to understand was how shrewd Charles Manson was as a recruiter and as a seducer. These women were empty vessels. There was a hole in each of their lives—a lack of confidence, a lack of accomplishment, a lack of identity. I remember Sandra Good telling me, “I never thought I could sing. But we were sitting around a campfire at the ranch. Charlie kept saying to me, ‘Sing, sing.’ I said, ‘I can’t sing.’ ” Charlie kept prodding and pushing her. She said, “I burst into tears and started singing.”

BARBARA HOYT, member of the Family. Fifty-seven years old, she is a registered nurse. In April of 1969, I got in a fight with my dad—I don’t even remember what it was about—and stomped off. We lived in Canoga Park, and I started walking toward Spahn Ranch. I was picked up by two of the girls—one was Deirdre Shaw, Angela Lansbury’s daughter. I met Charlie that first night. They had dinner, and everybody sat on the floor. We passed around casseroles and salads. You’d take three or four bites and pass them on. Everybody ate with the same utensils out of the same bowls. After the meal, the group shared a couple of joints. Then Charlie got out his guitar. He sang songs like “Cease to Exist”:

Pretty girl, pretty, pretty girl, cease to exist.

Just come and say you love me.

Give up your world…

I’m your kind. I’m your kind.

He sang that song on my first night. I felt like I was loved and accepted the way I was. It was unconditional. I needed that. I was misunderstood. I was 17.

CATHERINE SHARE, member of the Family. Sixty-six years old, she is a writer. I first met Charlie in the summer of 1968. He drove up to the house where I was staying with Bobby Beausoleil. He was in a beaten-down Chevy. He wore a cowboy hat and had a beard. He wanted us to go swimming with him. Bobby got on his chopper, and I got into the Chevy with the cowboy. Sitting in the front seat with him was a redhead, who turned out to be Squeaky Fromme, and Ruth Ann Moorehouse, called Ouisch. No one spoke—the cowboy’s presence filled the vehicle. We drove to Pacific Palisades and pulled up to the gate of a huge glass-and-log home. It was Dennis Wilson’s house. The cowboy said, “This is your dream, isn’t it, girl?” Then he turned around and looked me in the eyes and said, “Start living it.” He punched in numbers, and we went onto grounds with peacocks and eucalyptus trees and a pool on a cliff where beautiful men and women were swimming, some in suits, some topless. The Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour” was blaring in the background.

I went into a bathroom to change, and this person walks up to me and he’s no longer a cowboy. He has freshly washed chestnut hair, a tan, and is wearing an open silk kimono and harem pants. He looked like a rock star, and he introduced himself like we’d never met: “Hello, I’m Charlie Manson.” I went to Spahn Ranch that night. On a stage in the western saloon a member of the group was lying on his stomach, crying and thanking Charlie for setting him free. Charlie now wore a cream-colored robe, and his hair was down. He looked like Christ. He was saying, “That’s all right, brother. You can give it all to me. Just let it go and be free.” Charlie’s face was shining. I thought he was the wisest and kindest man I’d ever met. He made me his woman right away. That’s how it happened with all the new girls.

BUGLIOSI He used conventional techniques, and sex was one of them. He tried to subvert their sexuality. When a new girl joined the Family, he’d try to induce her to have sex with another girl. When a new boy joined, he’d try to get him to have sex with another boy. He tried to break down their pride. He tried to break down their egos. He told them all ego was bad.

FLYNN Charles Manson is a pimp.

BUGLIOSI LSD and marijuana were the main drugs. Manson went on LSD trips with the Family two, three, four times a week. Very cleverly he either took no LSD himself or used smaller dosages. That way he could retain control of his mental faculties. While they were on these trips he’d say, “Who says it’s wrong to kill? There’s nothing wrong with death. Death is a very beautiful thing.”

FLYNN I saw people go from 16 to older than I was—24 at the time—in a matter of months. It was devastating.

BUGLIOSI Isolation was important. Spahn Ranch may have been only 25 miles from downtown, but in terms of lifestyle it was light-years away. There were no newspapers, no calendars, and no clocks. And there was Manson, sitting atop a rock with his guitar, preaching and philosophizing. No one spoke without his permission.

HOYT He was God. He was the devil. Everyone aspired to be like him or be with him. He offered an explanation of why the world is as it is. His sources were Scientology and a few others. He said we would have to die to ourselves and give up all knowledge. Everyone considered Charlie a pure soul. He’d only managed to go through a few years of school, so he wasn’t programmed with society’s rules and laws. He was like a person who’d been raised by wolves. He wanted us to discard our upbringings, our knowledge, and our hang-ups and live in Now.

SHARE He would show us how our parents hadn’t raised us right and had abused us, had tried to shut down the light we had within, the brightness we had within. He talked about how the mind works. He discussed the subliminal messages that society transmitted. Then he would give us his own subliminal messages. We knew he was doing it, and we let him. That’s how good he was. He was a visionary, a newscaster, a prophet, and a lover.

HOYT  We ate when Charlie wanted to eat, sang and got together when he wanted to sing and get together. He told you what chores to do, what jobs to do.

SHARE I was like everyone else—enslaved to the point I couldn’t put two sentences together. The thing you have to remember about Charlie is that he was a con. Kids don’t know about cons. They don’t know about people who’ve been in prison. People in prison live by their wits. Otherwise they don’t survive. Charlie came out of prison with that skill. He knew what you were thinking before you did. He found himself with all these hippies, and it was easy for him to manipulate them. Real easy.

BUGLIOSI My belief is that all the people who killed for Manson had hostility coursing through their veins. The other Family members were equally subservient, but they weren’t murderers. Manson, of course, was the catalyst. He brought all the hostility—some of it against parents, some of it against society—to the surface. But the murderers would not have killed had they not wanted to do so. One of Manson’s most devoted followers was a guy named Paul Watkins. When he realized Helter Skelter was coming down, he fled.

XI. HELTER SKELTER
HOYT When I joined the Family, the first thing they asked me was if I had heard the Beatles’ White Album and knew about Helter Skelter. Susan Atkins—Sadie—was the one who told me about it. She told me Helter Skelter was coming. She said the blacks were going to rise against the whites, but the Family would escape it. They were building dune buggies with fur seats and gun mounts. They were making clothes out of hides. It was like they were all pioneers. I thought, “Wow! This is fun. It’s like camping.”

SHARE Charlie talked about Helter Skelter every night. He said the way it would start is that the blacks, who’d already burned Watts, would start burning white neighborhoods. Then the whites, with the police behind them, would start killing blacks, and that would spark total chaos. Blackie—that’s what he called them—would do this. Whitey would do that. And we’d learn to live off the land. We’d live in the desert and come in on dune buggies and rescue the orphaned white babies. We’d be the saviors.

BUGLIOSI The White Album came out in late November 1968. In Manson’s mind, the song “Helter Skelter”—no matter that it came from the name of a British amusement park ride—was the signal for the last destructive war on the face of the earth. He thought the Beatles were sending him messages. “Piggies” talks about wealthy husbands and wives eating out with forks and knives. It says that they need a “damn good whacking.” He thought another song, “Revolution 9,” was the Beatles’ attempt to invoke the Bible’s Revelation 9, which says that during Armageddon the earth will be invaded by locusts. The Beatles once spelled their name the Beetles. Revelations says the locusts will have iron breastplates—to Manson those were the Beatles’ electric guitars. It says the locusts will have the faces of men but the hair of women, like the Beatles.

FLYNN Charlie decided he would have to teach blacks how to start the revolution. He said, “The black man is nothing but a monkey dressed up in a white man’s suit.”

SHARE I think Charlie really believed his own hype. That’s why the killings happened. That’s why they wrote “PIG” on the door at the Tate house and “HEALTER SKELTER” at the LaBiancas’. All the messages were intended to ignite Helter Skelter. I totally believed Charlie. I believed that the cities were going to burn. I believed my only safety was to stay with the Family. I believed Charlie knew best.

HOYT Once the blacks killed the whites, they wouldn’t know how to run things. They wouldn’t know how to be judges or politicians. The only white people left would be the Family. We’d be hiding in Death Valley in what Charlie called “the bottomless pit.” We’d emerge, and Charlie would take over.

SHARE The Family had been preparing for this. Charlie would take the kids on what he called “creepy crawls.” They’d break into houses and move around the furniture. There were a lot of creepy crawls before the Tate murders. He’d say, “Get your black clothes on, get in the car, and do a creepy crawl.” Tex, Susan Atkins, Leslie Van Houten, Clem, Squeaky, and Patricia Krenwinkel—they all went on creepy crawls.

XII. CIELO DRIVE
BUGLIOSI Charlie had been at the Cielo house a couple of times before. A record producer named Terry Melcher, Doris Day’s son, lived there. Dennis Wilson and Manson drove Melcher home one night after a party. A few months later Charlie went back. Melcher had auditioned him at Spahn Ranch, but he didn’t like his music. Manson went there the second time to ask Melcher for another audition. Melcher, however, had moved to Malibu, and Manson got booted off the premises.

McGANN  Manson thought Melcher was going to sign him. Melcher said, “You’re talented. I’m gonna make your record.” But he didn’t do anything. Manson was mad about that. It’s no accident he sent his group to Cielo.

BUGLIOSI On the afternoon of August 8, Manson told the girls, “Now is the time for Helter Skelter.” That evening, he told Tex Watson, “Go to the former home of Terry Melcher and kill everyone on the premises.” Manson didn’t know exactly who lived there, but he indicated to Tex they were “entertainment types.” Charlie then got the girls together and told them to do everything Tex told them. It was Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Linda Kasabian. As they were pulling away Manson told the girls, “Leave a sign. You girls know what to write—something witchy.”

HOYT We were all in the back of Spahn Ranch having dinner. Charlie called Tex into another room, and I saw them talking. Then I got a call on the ranch’s field phone from Sadie, who was up at the front of the ranch. She wanted me to bring three sets of dark clothes. I got the clothes from a big pile we kept and brought them to the front, but they’d already left.

BUGLIOSI They drove directly to the Tate residence. Tex climbed the telephone pole in front and cut the wire to make sure no one could call out. They could have gotten in by climbing the gate, but they didn’t because they thought it might be electrified. Instead they went up a dirt embankment off to the side. Almost as soon as they were in, they saw headlights. It was Steven Parent coming down the driveway. He’d been visiting William Garretson. Tex walked up to the car and shot him four times.

Watson slit the screen of a front window of the house and entered. He went to the door and opened it, letting Susan Atkins and Patricia Krenwinkel in. Voytek Frykowski was on the couch. He’d been sleeping. He woke up and said, “Who are you?” Watson said, “I am the devil, and I’m here to do the devil’s business.” They tied Frykowski’s hands, then went to the bedrooms. Abigail Folger was reading a book on the bed in her room. Sharon Tate was lying down in the next room. Jay Sebring was on the edge of the bed. They were talking. They rounded them all up in the living room. They’d brought a rope and put it around Sebring’s neck, Sharon’s neck, and Abigail Folger’s neck and threw it over a beam in the ceiling. One of the victims said, “What are you going to do with us?” And Tex said, “You’re all going to die.” At that point the screaming and stabbing began. Somehow Abigail got loose. She ran outside. Patricia Krenwinkel chased her and stabbed her.

Frykowski got loose. He was fighting. He went outside, and Watson chased him. You talk about brutality—Frykowski suffered 51 stab wounds. He was hit over the head with a blunt instrument 13 times. He was shot 4 times. It was a sea of blood. It’s all so horrendous, it’s hard to even keep in your mind. While the killers were there, they inflicted 102 stab wounds on the victims and shot three of them. Sharon Tate was stabbed 16 times. Sadie told me Sharon begged for her life so she could have her baby. She said she told Sharon, “Bitch, you’re gonna die. I don’t have any mercy on you.” She said that before she wrote “PIG” in Sharon’s blood, she tasted it.

HOYT The next afternoon I was in a trailer watching Hobo Kelly, a kids’ show, on TV. Sadie came in and demanded I turn the channel to the news. She told me to call Tex and Patricia Krenwinkel. The first thing on the news was the story that Sharon Tate had been murdered. I remember thinking I was glad not to be a part of a world where those things happened. The others reacted differently. One of them said, “The Soul sure picked a good one.” They called Charlie that sometimes—the Soul. Then they started laughing. I felt inferior, like I hadn’t evolved as far as they had. I hadn’t expanded my mind like they had. I didn’t think it was funny.

XIII. WAVERLY DRIVE
BUGLIOSI The second night was a little different. Manson decided to go along, and he brought Leslie Van Houten and Steve Grogan. Linda Kasabian, Susan Atkins, and Patricia Krenwinkel also went. They began by looking for victims at random. If you were white and appeared financially well-off, you qualified to be murdered. They started in Pasadena. They stopped at a house, and Manson looked in the window and saw pictures of children. Like Hitler, he loved children. So they couldn’t do that place. They stopped at a church in Pasadena, but it was locked. Then they went into Los Angeles. At one point they were on Sunset Boulevard. They pulled up to a light next to a white sports car. Linda was driving, and Manson told her, “I’m going to get out and shoot that guy.” But the light changed, and the sports car sped off. So they drove to Waverly Drive. The LaBianca residence was next door to a place they had been a year earlier.

Manson left everyone in the car and somehow got into the LaBianca house—he’s never said how. But he got in, and he tied up Leno and Rosemary. He used leather thongs to tie their hands behind their backs. Leno was in the living room, Rosemary in the bedroom. Leno was a big guy. He could have squashed Charlie. Charlie had a gun, but he didn’t use it. My guess is that he convinced Leno that if he cooperated, no harm would come to them. Charlie had a way of using that dulcet voice of his. He could be reassuring. He came back to the car and told them to go in there and kill the victims like the previous night.

The LaBianca murders were, if possible, more gruesome than those of the previous night. Tex killed Leno. He stabbed him 12 times with a knife and 14 times with a fork. The two girls killed Rosemary. They stabbed her 41 times. Rosemary had to listen to Leno being stabbed to death. She asked the girls, “What are you doing to my husband?” They carved the word “WAR” into Leno’s stomach. The knife they left protruding from his throat and the fork from his stomach were probably references to the line about forks and knives in the Beatles’ song “Piggies.” Patricia Krenwinkel did the writing on the walls. Then what did they do? They raided the refrigerator. They ate some watermelon and left the rinds. After that, they took a shower.

Charlie had gotten ahold of Rosemary’s wallet. He and Steve Grogan and Linda Kasabian took off. They got on the 5 freeway to Pacoima, which used to be the black community in the San Fernando Valley. Manson said, “We’ll drop the wallet at a gas station, and some black man will pick it up, use the credit cards—and that will connect him to the murders.” He thought this would help to ignite the race war. But they went one off-ramp too far and exited at Sylmar. Manson sent Linda into a gas station rest room. She placed the wallet in the toilet tank. No one found it for a couple of months.

Barbara Hoyt after she fled the Family and testified against Manson despite death threats

PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY HERALD-EXAMINER COLLECTION/LOS ANGELES PUBLIC LIBRARY

XIV. HIDING OUT
SHARE We never had newspapers at Spahn Ranch, but Charlie got an L.A. Times with headlines about the Tate-LaBianca killings. He held it up and said, “It’s started.” He said we had to get out of town, because it was now dangerous. We were up day and night putting food into barrels and getting our last clothes together, the leather outfits we’d been working on. We had three dune buggies with roll bars and machine gun mounts. It was apocalyptic. No one spoke of any alternative.

Within days Manson ordered another murder. This time the victim was a ranch hand named Donald “Shorty” Shea. Like other hands loyal to George Spahn, he wanted Manson off the ranch.

BUGLIOSI Shorty was white, and he had a black wife. Manson did not like that. He said it was “mixing.”

HOYT I was in a trailer on high ground, and below that was a creek bed. Charlie, Tex, Bruce Davis [another Family member], and Steve Grogan chased Shorty down there. It was around ten at night. I heard a scream and got up. The moon was bright, and I could see the imprint of leaves on the window screen. I thought, “Maybe I imagined that.” I lay back down, and the screams started again, and they kept happening and happening and happening. It was Shorty. I recognized his voice. I was scared. I crouched in a ball on the floor. The next day I heard Charlie talking about it. He said, “Shorty died with a little help from us. He was hard to kill, but we brought him to Now.”

Charlie then took all of us girls who were underage to the desert. The next morning I woke up, and we were at the base of Goler Wash. Tex and Charlie were talking about the bottomless pit. I thought they were crazy, because I’d assumed the bottomless pit was something figurative. But Charlie had brought along all these topographical maps. He was going to find it. It was a nine-mile walk up to Barker Ranch. We carried babies and equipment. But Charlie didn’t walk. He waited for Tex to drive back down in a Power Wagon and take him up.

FLYNN  They offered me a case of beer to go up to Barker Ranch, but the reason I went was to find out what happened to Shorty. I stayed and stayed, and I watched those people. It was dangerous. It was like walking in a soap bubble—you’re hoping it doesn’t burst.

BUGLIOSI It was a much more tense situation in the desert. Manson knew people would be looking for him. He posted guards on the roof of Barker Ranch, and he also had sentinels at some distance away so they could alert him as anyone was approaching. They had all kinds of ammunition and weaponry up there.

HOYT In early September I was taking a nap in the bedroom at Myers Ranch, a half mile away. We walked back and forth. I woke up and heard Sadie talking to Ruth Ann Moorehouse. I didn’t pay attention until I heard the name “Tate.” Then I started listening. She said that Sharon Tate was the last to die, that she had to watch the others die first. She said that Sharon had called for her mother. She said that Abigail had called for God, and she said Tex ran over and gutted her.

I walked back to Barker Ranch and saw Tex in the kitchen. The only thing I could think about was what he did to Abigail Folger. He said, “Barbara, your face is all the colors of the desert.” I thought that if he or anyone else figured out what I knew I wasn’t going to be alive anymore. I tried to forget what I knew. I got temporary amnesia. But from that point on I started working on trying to get out of the desert.

In early October two of us walked to Ballarat, population four. It took us 15 to 16 hours. And then we got a ride down to Los Angeles. At first I stayed with my grandmother, then I moved back in with my mom. I slept all day and stayed up all night. I kept my mother’s biggest kitchen knife with me. I was guarding the house. I went from one window to another. When I told my mother what I knew, she didn’t want to believe it. Then in December the news came on that Charles Manson had been charged. Right after that I got my first death threat. My mother said I had to call the police, and I did.

XV. PREPARING FOR TRIAL
BUGLIOSI I went to Spahn Ranch with a group of detectives. Danny DeCarlo, a member of the Straight Satans motorcycle gang, was our guide. Old man George Spahn was sitting in this dilapidated shack where he lived. He was wearing sunglasses and a Stetson, and he had a Chihuahua in his lap. He was listening to Sonny James on the radio while one of the hippie girls prepared lunch for him. We kept Danny in handcuffs so none of the Family still there would suspect he was cooperating. He took us to where Charlie and the others did their target practice shooting. We found casings from a .22-caliber revolver. Danny later told us he’d seen the revolver—located by Steven Weiss back in September—in Manson’s hand. When LAPD test fired it, the casings matched those we found at the ranch. Which meant what? The weapon that had been used to shoot three Tate victims— Frykowski, Sebring, and Parent—was at one time at Spahn Ranch.

I also went out to Barker Ranch. It was extremely rough country. I was looking for boots. There were bloody boot prints at the Tate residence. I didn’t find them, but I did find lots of magazines with articles about Hitler. And the detectives found the wire cutters that, it would turn out, had been used to cut the telephone line at the Tate residence. It was also while I was in Inyo County that I first saw Manson. He was in jail in Independence. I watched three or four sheriff’s deputies walk him into the courthouse. I was shocked by how little he was. He was scruffy, with long, scraggly hair, and kind of hunchbacked. I thought, “He doesn’t look imposing.” But I’d already learned enough about him to know that it would be a great error on my part to underestimate him.

McGANN I have nothing but respect for Bugliosi as a lawyer, but his attitude pissed me off. He didn’t solve the case. We solved the case. We brought the case to the district attorney’s office in a pretty good package. He found more evidence, but that’s what he’s supposed to do.

GALINDO Vince Bugliosi was intense. Boy, was he intense. If I interviewed somebody and didn’t get something he wanted, he re-interviewed them. But I didn’t mind. He was strictly for conviction, and conviction meant proving these people guilty. He’s the guy who made the case.

BUGLIOSI I made a deal with Richard Caballero, Susan Atkins’s lawyer, that if Susan cooperated I wouldn’t seek the death penalty against her. If she stopped cooperating, I couldn’t use what she’d told me. I hadn’t wanted to do this. As far as I was concerned, she was one of the main killers. But the D.A. overruled me. There was a lot of pressure. There was such a desire to break the case. So we came up with this agreement.

The deal with Atkins soon fell apart. First came a spate of publicity that threatened to pollute the jury pool, undermining her value as a witness. The most damaging article appeared in the Los Angeles Times. Under the headline “Susan Atkins’ Story of 2 Nights of Murder,” the state’s star witness provided a comprehensive first-person account of the killings. Second came Manson’s transfer from Inyo County to Los Angeles.

McGANN Manson and Susan Atkins started communicating, and she completely changed. She became very belligerent. She didn’t want anything more to do with us. She decided she wouldn’t testify.

BUGLIOSI Sadie went back to her god, Charlie.

As Atkins returned to the Family, Linda Kasabian, who had fled to New Mexico, came out of hiding.

GARY FLEISCHMAN, Kasabian’s lawyer. Now 75, he practices in Northern California. Linda had seen them committing mayhem at the Tate house. She had driven the killers to the LaBianca residence, but she hadn’t done anything. Still, she was technically guilty of first-degree murder. I told her that a deal was the only way out. She initially didn’t want to do that. These were her soul mates, no matter what they’d done. But I told her, “You’re broke, you’re pregnant, and you were there. You must become a prosecution witness.”

One day Aaron Stovitz, the head of the trial division, called me. He said, “I want to talk to you.” I said, “I’m going to get my hair cut at the barbershop at the Beverly Wilshire hotel. Come on over.” So he drives out, and he makes me an offer. A very strange confluence of events had occurred. They needed Linda Kasabian, and she needed them. They gave her total immunity.

BUGLIOSI We took Linda to Cielo Drive. I wanted her to point out to me where certain things had occurred. When we approached the gate, a couple of snarling dogs appeared. The owner had bought watchdogs. Linda started sobbing and saying over and over, “Why couldn’t they have been here that night? Why couldn’t they have been here that night?”

Family members Lynette Fromme and Catherine Share outside the courtroom

(from left) Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Leslie Van Houten went to court in August 1970 with “x”s on their foreheads in solidarity with Manson, who had carved the letter x between his eyebrows

During the trial Manson shaved his head, and followers (from left) Catherine Gilles, Kitty Lutesinger, Sandra Good, and Brenda McCann staged a vigil outside the Hall of Justice

XVI. THE TRIAL
The People v. Charles Manson, Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Leslie Van Houten began July 24, 1970, on the eighth floor of the Hall of Justice, with Judge Charles Older presiding. The trial would produce 28,354 pages of transcript and cost more than $1 million. Watson, not yet extradited from Texas, would be tried separately.

BUGLIOSI When Manson walked into the courtroom the first morning, people gasped. The night before, he’d gotten ahold of some sharp object and carved a bloody x into his forehead. Outside the Hall of Justice, Family members passed out his statement: “I have x’d myself from your world.… Your courtroom is man’s game. Love is my judge.” That weekend the female defendants heated bobby pins and burned x’s into their foreheads.  It was bizarre, but every day when I walked into the courtroom I exuded confidence. I’d done so much preparation I felt we couldn’t lose.

FLEISCHMAN On the third day, when they brought Linda into court, she looked at the three little girls, the killers—Sadie, Krenwinkel, and Van Houten—and asked them, “How could you?” They were supposed to be hippies. They were supposed to value life.

BUGLIOSI Linda knew on the night of the murders that she’d be the one who’d have to tell the world what happened. She thought they were just going off on another creepy crawl mission. She was an ideal witness. She’d been present both nights, but she hadn’t participated. She said Manson gave the orders to kill everyone at Tate. She described watching Tex Watson stab Voytek Frykowski. She said Manson directed them to the LaBianca house. As she talked about what happened, you’d see these expressions of terrible pain on her face. She was cut out of different cloth than the other Family members. The others were bloodthirsty robots. She was on the stand for 17 days. The defense assaulted her verbally. It was mostly Manson’s lawyer, Irving Kanarek.

FLEISCHMAN Charlie Manson made a huge mistake. He picked the worst lawyer he could have gotten—Irving Kanarek. He was famous around town as an obstructionist. If I’d been cross-examining Linda Kasabian, I’d have shoved that immunity agreement up her nose. I’d have said, “You were promised your freedom, so you made up this story.” Then I’d have gotten her off the stand. But Kanarek kept her up there. He’d ask Linda, “How many times have you taken LSD?” She’d say, “Fifty.” He’d ask, “Do you remember the first time?” She’d say, “Yes.” He’d ask, “Do you remember the last time?” She’d say, “Yes.” Then he’d ask, “Do you remember the 37th time?” Vince would yell, “Objection,” and there’d be a dozen lawyers at the bench. Then Kanarek would spend an hour finding out where Linda had lunch that day and what she’d eaten. The guy could think of more irrelevant questions. He’s meshuga, as we say in Yiddish. Manson sought him out for that reason—to foul up the trial. But it didn’t work. Linda’s testimony stood up.

Bugliosi had more than Kasabian: fingerprints, firearm identification, testimony from a home owner at whose residence Tex Watson and the others had hosed the gore off their hands after the Tate killings, and indirect evidence tying Krenwinkel to the writing at the LaBianca home.

BUGLIOSI One day Manson got ahold of a sharp pencil, and from a standing position jumped over the defense table toward the judge, shouting, “In the name of Christian justice, someone should cut your head off.” It was an amazing feat. I don’t know how he did it. You just don’t see things like that in court. The deputies immediately tackled him and dragged him off. From there on out Judge Older wore a handgun under his robe.

HOYT For months before I testified, I was getting death threats. Sometimes I knew who was calling—it was Squeaky or Sandy. The prosecution had to give my depositions to the defense. So they knew what I was going to say, and they knew it wasn’t going to be good for Charlie. I stayed in touch with a few of them, trying to make them think I was still on their side. They asked me to go to Hawaii. So I went. I was at the Honolulu airport with Ruth Ann Moorehouse, and we got a hamburger. After I ate it, she said, “Just imagine if there were ten tabs of acid in that.” I then went into the city. All of a sudden I was feeling really weird, very high, and I realized there were ten tabs of acid in the hamburger. I got to a bathroom and made myself throw up. I don’t know how I did it, but I got to the steps of the Salvation Army building. I sprawled out. A man asked me, “Are you all right?” I said no. I told him to call Mr. Bugliosi. They took me to a hospital and gave me Valium by IV to bring me down. The Valium went up my arm and into my brain and ripped it out. That’s when I lost consciousness.

Even though they tried to kill me, I had to testify. I’d seen Sharon Tate’s mother on TV talking about her grief. That’s what swayed me. I felt so sad for her. What it finally came down to for me was this: Did I want to be able to live with myself when I got old? And I decided that I did.

BUGLIOSI In November Ronald Hughes, Leslie Van Houten’s lawyer, vanished from the face of the earth. The Family had adopted an umbrella defense strategy. The goal was to save Charlie. The girls were going to give themselves up for Charlie. At some point Hughes started to show some independence. He started defending Leslie at Manson’s expense. In March Hughes’s body was found in a decomposed condition at Sespe Hot Springs in Ventura County. The coroner couldn’t determine the cause of death. I don’t know that the Family killed Ronald Hughes, but if I had to guess, I’d say they did.

FLEISCHMAN It freaked us all out when Ronald Hughes got killed. How many times do you hear of a defense lawyer getting killed in the middle of a case? I was living in a two-story apartment in Beverly Hills, and I had a couple of these kids—Linda’s husband, Bob, and a guy named Charlie Melton—sleeping on my doorstep. Bob and Charlie were really just warm bodies. They were just eating my food and smoking my dope. But they lived with me for several months. I wanted someone there if Squeaky Fromme tried to sneak in and slit my throat.

Officers escort Manson to jail following a preliminary court appearance in December 1969 in Los Angeles

PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY AP

XVII. VERDICT
When asked to call its first witness, the defense rested. Manson never testified in front of the jury. Kanarek hoped the jury would decide that the prosecution had failed to prove its case. The jury deliberated for 42 hours and 40 minutes. On January 25, 1971, it found Charles Manson, Patricia Krenwinkel, Susan Atkins, and Leslie Van Houten guilty of murder.

BUGLIOSI I couldn’t conceive of the jury coming back with a not-guilty verdict. But I did fear a hung jury. One juror, out of fear—because they all knew the Manson Family was still on the streets—could have balked. When the jury came in, I watched Manson. His hands were trembling. He’d convinced the Family members that death was beautiful. But that was all BS.

FLEISCHMAN Was there enough proof to convict Manson? Legally, I think it’s pretty questionable. Morally, I have no doubt that he’s guilty. Manson took control of these 22- and 23-year-old kids and turned them into killers. But legally, all Vince had was the testimony of my client, and he gave her immunity for her testimony. Not that it mattered. Vince was trying the devil incarnate, and what jury is not going to convict the devil?

BUGLIOSI You’ve got to realize that Manson was the main focus of the trial. The problem was that he did not physically participate in the murders. How did I connect him to the crime? I brought him in by way of circumstantial evidence. The first piece was his total, complete domination. The other one is that only he had a motive for these murders: Helter Skelter. I told the jury that when those words were found printed in blood at the LaBianca murder scene, it was tantamount to finding Manson’s fingerprints.

The penalty phase of the trial lasted nearly two months. On March 29, 1971, the jury found that Manson, Krenwinkel, Atkins, and Van Houten should be sentenced to death. Virginia Graham, Ronnie Howard, and Steven Weiss, the youngster who found the gun, split the $25,000 reward put up by Warren Beatty and others.

BUGLIOSI I told the jury, “If you’re not willing to come back with a verdict of death in this case, we should abolish the death penalty in the state of California. Why have it on the books? How many people do you have to kill to get the death penalty?”

Vincent Bugliosi, who prosecuted the killers, speaks to reporters after winning the death penalty.

PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY LOS ANGELES PUBLIC LIBRARY

XVIII. AFTERMATH
In October 1971, Tex Watson was convicted in a separate trial. Like the others, he was sentenced to death. Within little more than two years after the Tate-LaBianca murders, all five killers had been brought to justice. Bobby Beausoleil, and later Manson, were convicted of the Hinman murder. In addition, Manson, Davis, and Grogan were convicted of the Shea murder; Watson was not prosecuted in that case.

BUGLIOSI I was driving with the radio on when I heard that the Supreme Court had set aside the death penalty. I immediately recalled a conversation I had with Manson after the verdict. He said, “You know, Bugliosi, all you’ve done is send me back to where I came from.” I said, “But Charlie, you haven’t been to the green room.” The green room is where they drop the cyanide tablet. So I thought back to that conversation, and I thought, “Now he will never be in the green room. Now he will be where he wants to be.” Sure, he’d rather be back on the outside with a harem of women, driving dune buggies up and down the desert. But he doesn’t mind life behind bars. He’s bisexual. So when I heard the news, I said to myself, “Charlie’s beaten the rap.”

HOYT Manson should have been executed. They all should have been executed. It’s not that I want to see them die. It’s hard to think about. But it’s harder to think about what they did to their victims.

Like many lifers, Manson, now 74, and the others are eligible for parole. (Squeaky Fromme, who was convicted of the attempted assassination of President Gerald Ford in 1975, is also eligible.)

DiMARIA What strikes me about parole hearings is that they’re always a trek back to hell. Every year, sometimes two or three times a year, we go. I don’t know how many hearings we’ve been to for Leslie Van Houten. We’ve also been to hearings for Susan Atkins and Patricia Krenwinkel. Each time I have to watch my mother endure an account of how her brother died. Debra Tate, Sharon’s sister, comes. The LaBiancas come. I feel that the crimes themselves should be enough to keep them in prison for life.

We’re talking about premeditated mass murder.

HOYT I hear these murderers complain about the size of their cells. But the size of their cells is a lot bigger than the size of the coffins their victims are in. They say they have to live with what they’ve done for the rest of their lives. Well, at least they get to live with it. Their victims don’t get to live at all.

FLEISCHMAN It’s a shock that Leslie Van Houten has been kept in jail. Had she done an isolated event of this nature 40 years ago, she’d have long since been released on parole. But because she was in the Manson Family, she’s still in the pokey.

HOYT I think Manson is possessed. I think he has believed his stuff so long, he’s incapable of waking up. And I don’t think he’ll ever own up to what he’s done.

SHARE If you let Charles Manson out, he’d try to kill more people. Even in a physically diminished state, he’d try to manipulate someone into killing for him.

BUGLIOSI One of the reasons people are obsessed with the Manson case is that except for Susan Atkins, who had a tough childhood, the killers were all average American kids from good backgrounds. My God, Tex Watson was a football, basketball, and track star. He had an A average in high school. Leslie Van Houten was a homecoming queen. Patricia Krenwinkel wanted to become a nun. These were normal American kids. But Manson got ahold of them. The case is a reaffirmation of the verity that whenever you turn over your mind to an authoritarian figure, the potential for madness exists. When you lose your will, you can’t turn back.

There is also another reason. People forget that before the Tate-LaBianca killings, hippies had a clear image. They wanted to end the Vietnam War. They wanted to promote love. That these types of people were involved in a murder case that stretched the limits of brutality was a shock to the country.


In prosecuting this case I saw the face of unbelievable evil. That these people could not just stab their victims but enjoy it, that they could ignore their screams and keep stabbing as the victims were begging for their lives—I’d not seen that before. The question is, Where was God? Where was God in the LaBianca home and the Tate residence? Christians believe God is omniscient. So evidently he was there those nights and just decided not to do anything. You know, I’m an agnostic.