79 In love with one of the guests

It was morning after the third night and we headed on out of the free hostel. While I was thinking about this part of the story, I found a photo of railroad tracks in Berkeley. I'm sure that the hostel was near tracks. I knew it was on the boundaries, thought there was a train.

We walked with the Chicken Lady and her man. I loved to hear stories and thoughts from all different kinds of people, especially those on the edges. They were making the rounds in Berkeley before us and knew a bit more about survival techniques. They were headed over to the dorms at the University of Berkeley. It was close to People's Park. That was the whole beginning.

Moe's Books and People's Park were on Telegraph Ave. It was all situated pretty close. Honest to God I'm not sure which building it was, but it seemed modern in 1972. I know it wasn't the International House, we would walk up the hill on occasion to go to the cafeteria there. Anyway, I read a number of the dorms have been demolished since that time.

The International House

Chicken Lady led the way. We had our backpacks and sleeping bags. Geez..when was the last time we used those sleeping bags? So our Texas friends checked into the hostel that they had going on in that building. People weren't looking on the internet to see who was running from the law back then. I wonder about it. Maybe the Hearsts funded some of these operations? They had a street named after them running right next to the grounds. Just a thought. It was all weird.

Oh. It costs money? The people at the desk looked like they were in college and they couldn't have been friendlier. We just met and we were having some laughs. I don't remember the amount or our mindset, but we opted out. We had an idea. Our thought was to save a little money and get an apartment instead. So we were going to find a place, hidden away, to sleep.There were hedges all throughout the vicinity and little patches of grass. Secret patches.

There was a square within a square past a square of hedges. We were pretty wise as to what was cool and found a spot. So we shoved our stuff inside a hidden bush and took off for our days work. LBJ walked up by the International House to the Hillel Streetwork Project for some manly labor and I went off to pick up my tin for the Berkeley Free Clinic. Got a full day in of watching the action on the street and collecting some funds. I was the friendliest, cleanest panhandler you could ever meet. I did pretty well but I usually went into a public restroom to turn the tin upside and skim a little bit off the top. It was pretty much expected. Compared to what some people were doing, I was pretty innocent.

Back to the bushes after food and more walking. We were in our home for the next while. We unfurled the sleeping bags. Oh no. That mummy bag that got wet in Ohio! That smell. Somehow I ended up in it. It was the smell of mold and mildew. Rotting blubber and old cheese left under the front doorstep. I was going to beg LBJ to switch with me, but he was knocked out. He was tearing a house apart all day. I made it through the night. We didn't have a watch or a clock but the light of day and the sound of the early morning birds woke us up. Laying there for a second and something caught my eye. What the hell? A friggin snail in the sleeping bag. I jumped the hell out of that thing. I might have yelled yucch. There wasn't just one friggin snail in there, there was at least six of those slimy things swimming around in there. Not huge or I would think I would have felt them. Sneaky bastards sliming around in there.

We were close to the hostel front desk and asked if I could use the restroom. Yeah. Can I take a shower? Got along really well with the front desk people. Yeah. LBJ and I got cleaned up. He went off and I delayed my panhandling for a while. They had a little laundry and I decided to shove the sleeping bag in the washing machine. Problem is that the smell was soaked in there so bad it never came out. We worked out a deal that I would clean the main bathroom and shower in exchange for using them, since we weren't paying. Jesus. I had belly laughs with those people. 

 

77 Get me to my room part 1

So it was out of Shattuck Arms after a week. We each took our bags and headed out for the day. Did some exploring on Telegraph Ave. I noticed that there were folks with little coin tins panhandling for the Berkeley Free Clinic. They wore licenses around their necks, so I got into a conversation with a fellow asking him about it. He said "Yeah. Go in there. They'll set you up. You get 10% of the money you collect." Alright.

Asked a couple of people directions to the youth hostel. Heard they didn't open till 5 or so everyday. When it was closer to time we started walking. Other travelers were headed in that direction and we all kind of made it over there in a big group. I'm not even sure if it was still Berkeley. It was quite a ways and sort of industrial looking.

I've got to try to describe what we were all looking like. There were no stylish counter culture people moving around and hitchhiking. We all had minimal possessions except for the chicken lady. I'll talk about her later. Guys hair was pretty long in 1972, same for the girls. Our bodies were all in a natural state. I never really ran into many people that were smelling super bad, except for the chicken lady and her man. My hair was probably combed more than anyone's. I sure as hell didn't want all the knots I had from riding in that sports car, ever again. We found ways to express our personality through dress though. I didn't have a lot, but I wore a beaded choker and my scarves. If you found an old piece of clothing that was different, it was treasured.

We got there early. A line formed in the dirt out front. Found out that the girls had a room and the guys had another. The guys room was pretty big. Just more guys on the road. We were so early we had the option to be in the "Couples Room." Sure! We gave them our names and that's all there was to it.

Smaller than this.

So we stood outside the door to the couple's room. There was another guy and girl out there. "What are we waiting for?" "Oh. There's another couple in there already." Huh? Why do we have to wait? They just kind of looked at me. I'm thinking that maybe everyone in California isn't as fun as I thought. They answered "Uhh. Each couple gets half an hour alone. Then we can all use the room." You got to remember that certain boundaries were still being broken in 1972. I know that people are letting it all hang out on social media now, but many young people during that time were raised in prudish homes. That was hard to shed for some and it was a slower approach. It was show up the way you want. There was the mundane and there was the sensational.

I spoke about a couple of my friends in New York before. "S" did the whole heroin fueled orgy bit in the city with her older boyfriend. She'd describe it to me and it sounded like she was doing it just to do it. She really didn't like finding all kind of body parts all over herself when she woke up. Dirty parts of the city, too. She wanted to stop but I think she was motivated by her aversion to her parents and the Catholic Church. I was witness a few times to her walking into her house. I'd be smiling and her mom would ask her where the hell she was all that time. "Go fuck yourself." The finger and "go fuck yourself" every time to her mom. Her mom would be in curlers and a housedress. Her mom loved me because I didn't say "go fuck yourself." Mom was in curlers, so "S" ironed her hair.

"I" was doing the same thing but stuck with drugs you could smoke or swallow. She kind of hung with more musical people and she was nicer to her mother. Her sister covered for her and she did the same for her sister. The dads really didn't get too involved with what the daughters were doing. 

I was the more flowery of the three. Out of my mind with escapades but I wanted to escape the dirt that was New York. They were getting in deeper and I wanted out. When I got to California I thought "Ok. We'll all just kiss the trees and love one another!'

We had our half an hour. Whatever. Eventually the door was opened to all three couples. Ok. Rules. Not my forté. It was a room with three mattresses thrown on the floor. Cool. I don't need anything. The other two couples in there were pretty boring. LBJ and I wandered around. They always had free apples. Some gal was crying in the girls "dorm" and lots of really tired young ladies were yelling at her to shut up. I was starting to notice that not everyone was a kind soul. I tried to see if there was anything I could help with, but she didn't want it. I think she was with the mean chicks. Maybe they were Manson girl-like. Well, back to the "couples room."

We all just slept. It was morning and you could hear some loud dudes going around telling everyone "Time to get up!" There were a few guys that looked to be freaks themselves, probably in their 30's, running the show. Like I said earlier I think they were funded by do-gooders that lived in the expensive parts of Berkeley. The bathrooms were packed, but there was coffee and donuts. We'd be back that night. Ha ha. Ha ha. Very funny. That's a story. One of the highlights.

But anyway we headed on out of there walking back to Berkeley. I was going to check out the free clinic gig. We walked with the chicken lady and her man. She definitely stood out. These were the first people I ever met from Texas. Accents ruled then. If they based a couple of characters in a movie on these two you'd say "ridiculous." But the most amazing examples exist out there. Unafraid to be themselves. Man. I just wanted to know more. They lived on a farm and raised chickens. But the weird thing is she looked just like a chicken. Her hair was super short and she had a bony face. Her nose was bumped out and looked like a chicken beak. She walked real funny too. Kind of jerky. Speed up. Slow down. Gotta say I kept my distance cause they sure did have a peculiar aroma. An unusual amount of baggage they carried too. "Wow! You were living on a farm, that's beautiful! Why did you give it up?" They plain out said running from the law. Something with a car and assault. I don't remember. "Alright. See you later!" And we did. More than a few times.