Sympathy for the Devil

Contemporary musings on Bobby Beausoleil and the legacy of the 60s

By Shana Ting Lipton
 
"Crucible," by Bobby Beausoleil, courtesy of Clair Obscur Gallery
 
The idea of art as cathartic is not a new one. Art therapy rode a wave of popularity in the 1960's, along with other counter-culture subjects like psychedelic drugs, the occult, Kenneth Anger, and Charles Manson. Convicted murderer turned artist Bobby Beausoleil's strange and fascinating life has been punctuated by all of the above. But, much to his dismay, he is probably best known to 60's counterculture buffs for an association with Manson. This relatively brief friendship resulted in a murder that saw him sentenced to death, and then ultimately to life in prison (when California repealed the Death Penalty on February 18, 1972).
 
In July of 1969, Beausoleil and two of Manson's girlfriends went to musician/drug dealer Gary Hinman's house in Topanga Canyon to ask for a refund on a mescaline deal that they had helped broker for a motorcycle gang called The Straight Satans. The latter had complained that the hallucinogen was no good and demanded their money back. Once inside Hinman's house, Beausoleil and his female cohorts threatened the musician who insisted he had no money. Beausoleil called Manson to explain the degenerating situation. Manson in turn showed up at the house with a knife, which he lunged at Hinman's face. After Manson left, things got more out of control when Hinman refused to let Beausoleil give him makeshift stitches using dental floss, and threatened to call the authorities. That's when Beausoleil took matters (and a knife) into his own hands and made the panicked decision that would end his life as a free man. He killed Gary Hinman.
 
One of the three fleeing felons had scrawled a bloody missive on Hinman's wall. This way, authorities might believe that the crime had been committed by the Black Panthers, or some other radical political group. 'Political Piggies,' it read. Beausoleil was subsequently arrested while driving one of Hinman's vehicles. It is no coincidence that words like 'pig,' and 'rise,' and phrases like, 'death to pigs,' and 'helter skelter,' were also written in blood at the Tate and Labianca residences in the wake of the infamous brutal murders. Manson Family member Susan Atkins has claimed, in interviews, that the so-called 'Manson murders,' which took place on August 9, 1969, were intended to act as faux serial slayings to fool the police into thinking Beausoleil was innocent. The killing spree--which took place within weeks of the Beausoleil/Hinman incident--claimed the lives of actress Sharon Tate, hair stylist Jay Sebring, coffee heiress Abigail Folger, Polanski's friend Voyteck Frykowski, Steven Parent, and Rosemary and Leno Labianca.
 
Today, more than three decades later, the Tate/Labianca murders have become deeply ingrained in Southern Californians' collective unconscious-doomed to the annals of super-real allegory. Having grown up in a canyon, with the Polanski/Tate residence as a local monument to morbidity, it was not the boogyman that loomed large behind my closet door, but Charles Manson and his deranged sycophants. All those times, I sat trembling in the car with my teen friends, I don't think I ever made it up that hill to 10050 Cielo Drive. Nervous laughter and screaming always preceded our fearful descent back down the hill. A couple of us went to a school whose campus was ironically, just a stone's throw away from Cielo.
 
I had another weird 'six degrees' connection to Sharon Tate, via my godmother Barbara Parkins, who had not only starred in Valley of the Dolls (1967) with her, but also been her bridesmaid when she married Polanski in 1968. And then there was the rumor relayed to me by a punk rock musician I knew in the 80's, who had also attended my school. She said that one year, Roman Polanski had shown up at school to escort one of the girls to the prom. When I had asked my science teacher about it, he had responded in nasal science teacher staccato, "There was a lot of talk about that in the teachers' lounge. He showed up wearing black leather pants." Having not actually lived through the tumult of the era, and having grown up in LA surrounded by magazine editors, stylists, artists, filmmakers and musicians, all of this was good fodder for hip, dark, clever pop cultural cocktail chatter. We were all like macabre Bavarians-land-locked, sequestered in the hills, away from 'normal' society, telling our dark Grimm tales of freaks in the forest stalking beautiful princesses.

It is this specific archetype, I believe, that has fostered in many women, a psychosexual fascination with men behind bars that borders on the fairytale-like (something resembling Beauty and the Beast). The man represents the Id in its most extreme, beastly and uncomely form. But he is caged so the delicate, understanding woman is in no danger of coming into direct contact with this creature's force brutale. She is free to gaze and admire the beast inside-the beast inside her, inside all of us for that matter, from a safe distance. Yet she knows that to this prisoner of his own consciousness, she too is an archetype. She represents the soft, understanding primal mother who will accept him, with his boils and hunched back, gnashing his teeth, in all his rage and deformity. I had in fact gone to a prison in Amsterdam, Holland, back in 1999 for a tongue-in-cheek article I was writing about the cushy and reformative Dutch prison system. But any personalization or talk of archetypes was back-seated in favor of social politics and odd cultural customs. As writers and journalists we sometimes discover previously unbeknownst fascinations as they come to us in the form of assignments and pitches.
 
Yet, I recognize having always been attracted to a certain juxtaposition--a subtle moment of contact between disparate forces. It is the light and the dark of the Yin-Yang symbol before they blend into creation. It is the moment before creation. Here sit two extreme energies-like boxers in each respective corner of their ring about to spar only to realize that their equally potent but opposite forces conjoined produce something bigger then both of them. This explains why I read two of my favorite books, almost back-to-back: Leonard Shlain's "The Alphabet Versus the Goddess," and Gary Lachman's "Turn Off Your Mind: The Mystic Sixties and the Dark Side of the Age of Aquarius." The former espoused the soft goddess nature that an inmate might eulogize. The latter exposed one era's bête noir-the archetypal dark force that is only harmless when behind bars. Lachman's tome was my more recent read; its back-of-the-book blurb asking: "How did a decade of love and peace end in Altamont and the Manson Family bloodbath?"
 
The book's first mention of Bobby Beausoleil was on page 254: "And as we will see, Bobby Beausoleil, another member of the Family convicted of murder, starred in a early version of Anger's Lucifer Rising." The book was intriguing on the level of encapsulating and exploring a zeitgeist. I related strongly to it. In the previous quote, Lachman refers to legendary cult filmmaker Kenneth Anger. Beausoleil's meeting with the eccentric and dark Anger was perhaps his first, 'date with destiny.' For, apart from Manson, Anger was a close second in terms of Beausoleil's infamous associations. The story is that he was floored by the young rebel musician's lascivious stage performance when he played with experimental band Orkustra at The Glide Memorial Festival.
 
Anger found the attractive 19-year-old in the parking lot, pointed at him and proclaimed, "You are Lucifer." Rather than being an invocation into some Satanic cult, the declaration was an invitation to play the part of the fallen angel himself, in Anger's film, Lucifer Rising (1972). The core concept was an empathetic reverence for the myth of Lucifer, the highest archangel in heaven, who descended from grace after embracing sins like pride, vanity and arrogance and rebelling against God. Lucifer Rising imagines the 'bearer of light's return to helm a new era.
 
Anger took his would-be Lucifer under his wing, and the prodigal son lived rent-free with the unlikely father twenty years his senior. The footage of Beausoleil was eventually cut and used instead in Anger's Invocation of my Demon Brother (1969). Inadvertently following the prodigal son mythology, he and Anger had a falling out. During a technological failure at a show at The Straight Theatre, a LSD scorched Anger had a fit and blamed Beausoleil resulting in his expulsion from the 'nest.'
 
In another case of art imitates archetype, the 'son' did in fact 'return,' years later while in prison. Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page had been tapped to do the soundtrack for a subsequent release of the film, but he and Anger split off in 1976. Beausoleil seemed the logical choice for the job. With the permission of the prison, he obtained materials to build electronic instruments, and assembled a group of fellow inmates at the Deuel Correctional Institution in Tracy, Calif and formed The Freedom Orchestra. Despite his enthusiasm and passion, the project was years in the making due to inmate inconsistency. Finally, in 1980, Anger released a version of Lucifer Rising that included the soundtrack.
 
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Copyright © 2005 Shana Ting Lipton
 

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