Patriotic Bicycling

Happy Bicycle Day everybody! This is the anniversary of the day Dr. Albert Hoffman became the first person to experience psychedelic awareness. It is also an official state holiday, although not for that reason. It is Patriots' Day, which for you out of state readers is defined as follows by the Wikipedia:

Patriots' Day (sometimes incorrectly punctuated Patriot's Day or Patriots Day) is a civic holiday commemorating the anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the first battles of the American Revolutionary War. It is observed in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and state of Maine (once part of Massachusetts), and is a public school observance day in Wisconsin. Observances and re-enactments of these first battles of the American Revolution occur annually at Lexington Green in Lexington, Massachusetts, (around 6am) and The Old North Bridge in Concord, Massachusetts (around 9am). In the morning, a mounted reenactor with State Police escort retraces Paul Revere's ride, calling out warnings the whole way.

I don't know about kids today, but in my time at the World Famous Thomas M. Balliet Elementary School we had to memorize the opening lines of this poem about Paul Revere by Massachusetts' poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Oh well, I hope you have a good Bicycle Day or Patriots' Day or whatever.

Returning to modern times there was a big political convention in Worcester this weekend where the Republicans nominated their candidate for Governor of Massachusetts. Here is the delegation representing Hampden County, as captured in this photo by Bill Dusty.

The winner was former Weld and Celluci Administration bureaucrat Charlie Baker, who whomped his opponent Christy Mihos so severely he was knocked right off the ballot. Personally I was partial to Mihos as being the more radical reformer, but I'm not surprised he got skunked. Mihos made bigtime enemies when he ran as a third party candidate in 2006 and his candidacy may have resulted in drawing enough votes away from the GOP nominee to elect Deval Patrick. Many were infuriated by this advertisement from 2006 in which a cartoon figure that resembles GOP nominee Kerry Healey shoves her head up her ass.

 



 

For Mihos to then seek the GOP nomination was just too much for some of the party faithful to endure. Plus the Republicans are hungry for victory, and the Baker campaign with its moderate tone appears to be the surest ticket to success. However Deval Patrick, until recently perceived as doomed, has gained a little traction with some aggressive personal campaigning. Third party candidate Tim Cahill has also reinvigorated his campaign, which was initially dismissed by many pundits as a self-serving ego trip, by making himself the primary critic of Massachusetts' failed universal healthcare law. Frankly, if the election were held today this race could go to any of the three leading candidates. A fourth contender, Jill Stein of the Green Party, has yet to register at even one percent in the polls, but if she ever does gain any traction it is likely to be at the expense of the only other liberal in the race, Governor Patrick.

This is the view out the window of my friend Zak's restaurant Eclipse in downtown Northampton.

Here's Zak tryin' to burn the joint down.

 



Objects in the Haymarket Cafe. 

Tulips in Pulaski Park.

Wooden flower pot by a Hamp doorway.

Wise bumpersticker. 

A six minute video has surfaced of Saturday's Extravaganja in Amherst that consists of someone walking all around the perimeter of the town common. It was filmed at the same time I was there, in fact you can see me walk past at 5:23. 

Senate Endorsements 2009

No Good Candidates

 



If the voters can stop yawning long enough, they will go to the polls on Tuesday to select two people to run for the U.S. Senate seat left open by the death last summer of Edward M. Kennedy. I don't know why anyone should give a damn about who I would vote for, but that never stops me from throwing my two cents in.

If I were voting in the Democrat Primary, I would vote for Mike Capuano.

The race is really between Capuano and Martha Coakley, the other two candidates being political unknowns who should have stayed that way. Both Capuano and Coakley are wrong on nearly all the issues, but Capuano is at least a supporter of drug law reforms. As Valley libertarian activist Terry Franklin explains, "Mike Capuano is the drug law reformer to vote for. Martha Coakley, the front runner, is the hard core Drug Warrior who would be a disaster as our representative."

If I were voting in the Republican Primary I would vote for Scott Brown.

A political unknown with no money who probably has no chance of winning, Scott is at least a solid fiscal conservative. Unfortunately he is also wrong on nearly all the social issues, but in this election it's the economy that counts. His opponent Jack E. Robinson has unfortunately in the past proven himself to be totally unelectable.

The winners will face off in the special election on January 19th.

Words For Our Times

At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument is needed. Oh, had I the ability, and could reach the nation's ear, I would today pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire, it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; its crimes against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced.

-Frederick Douglass

Today's Video

Very funny true life psychedelic sports story. 

President Trips

Did JFK Take LSD?

 



John F. Kennedy is probably the most popular president to come out of Massachusetts, although politically one would probably have to say that John Adams and Calvin Coolidge were more influential. Perhaps we like Kennedy more because unlike Adams and Coolidge he was alive in the lifetime of most people now living. But was JFK so modern that he once took LSD? Sounds ridiculous, but the book I'm reading at the moment Timothy Leary - A Biography by Robert Greenfield, actually seriously discusses that possibility:

Tim Leary wrote that before he left Cambridge to return to Mexico by way of Los Angeles, a good-looking aristocratic woman from Washington, D.C., had come to his office. Her name was Mary Pinchot Meyer and she wanted Tim to teach her how to run an LSD session so she could turn on a close friend. Because he was a very important man as well as a public figure, her friend could not possibly make this connection for himself. With Tim, Michael Hollingshead, and a woman to whom Flo Ferguson had introduced Tim in New York, Meyer took part in a low dose LSD session. Meyer seemed to know a good deal about the CIA's use of mind-expanding drugs in a series of disastrous mind-control experiments that have since been well documented.

Tim Leary would write about three more meetings with Mary Pinchot Meyer over the next two years. In 1965, Tim discovered to his great horror that she had been murdered on October 12, 1964, as she walked along the canal towpath in Georgetown. Her body was identified by her brother-in-law, Ben Bradlee, executive editor of The Washington Post. Tim also learned for the first time that Meyer was married to CIA division chief Cord Meyer, Tim's nemesis at the American Veterans Committee during his graduate days at Berkeley. When it was revealed that Mary Pinchot Meyer had been one of John F. Kennedy's mistresses, Tim immediately suspected she had been killed for giving LSD to the president and then recording this information in her diary, which was never found.

Despite these intriguing facts, Greenfield says that the information is still too sketchy to say that JFK did indeed take LSD. Greenfield concludes:

While Tim did have contact with Mary Pinchot Meyer during this period and probably did supply her with psychedelics, which she may well have taken with someone in power in Washington, there is no evidence the man was John F. Kennedy.

So there is no direct evidence linking JFK to LSD use. However, if I were to guess which of the Kennedy brothers might have taken LSD I would choose Teddy. Despite the fact that Kennedy was hard on Leary when he testified before a congressional committee in the early '60's, the youngest Kennedy brother was not entirely averse to the LSD scene, as evidenced by the periods of correspondence he had with psychedelic pioneer Ken Kesey. Overall I find it easier to believe that the hard partying Ted Kennedy dropped acid than the more restrained JFK.

Meanwhile, a famous Pine Pointer and beloved crossing guard sent me this email recently about Leary's Springfield birthplace. 

To make a short story long, they were discussing Timothy Leary's house on the Nostalgia Forum and much to my surprise, I found out it's at my crossing guard corner. I didn't believe that was his house, because the Ferris family had lived there for a century or two. Honestly, city records show it was built in 1854, but I believe it's older.

So, I accosted a neighbor and sure enough, Timothy Leary was born in that house. His mother had been Abigail Ferris. My neighbor knew his sister, who had been a teacher at Myrtle Street School. I've been staring at that house for 7 years and had no idea. Anyways, he most likely hung out at the Indian Orchard Library and went to either Myrtle St or Indian Orchard School. I'm not sure when IO was built, but I know it's very old. Next time I'm at the main library, I'll check the city directories.

So there's your less-than-six-degrees of separation. You know me - I know my neighbor - My neighbor knew Helen Leary - And, well, you know. Now, doesn't that just make your day? Anyways, here's a photo of Timothy Leary's house, maybe his ghost is still hanging around. - Marilyn

 



Shouldn't some attempt me made to preserve this house as a historic shrine?

In Hamp

More evidence spotted on King Street that the Springfield mafia is moving into Northampton.

The Dunkin Donuts on King Street, one of the Valley's oldest, is undergoing renovations.

 

The old sign dumped by the side of the parking lot.

Earth flag in yesterday's rain. 

Early This Morning

This morning I went into the wild hills of Haydenville to pick apples.

It's actually past harvest time, but there were still plenty to be picked.

A productive and  relaxing way to start the day. 

We gave away the apples we picked to the Northampton Survival Center, where they will be made into apple pies, although perhaps some would prefer that they be turned into hard cider instead!

Today's Video

I like this psychedelic poster that's plastered all over downtown Hamp.

 



Hurtling from the future into the past, here's some classic footage of Northampton drummer Brian T. Marchese and his teenage punk band back in 1991.

Bicycle Day 2009

Psychedelic Prelude to 420



On April 19, 1943 a fundamental breakthrough in human consciousness occurred when Dr. Albert Hoffman, doing research on bread molds, accidentally dosed himself with the then unknown drug LSD. Frightened and confused, Hoffman jumped on his bicycle and rode home from his laboratory, immensely enjoying the ride, although the trip would turn terrifying once he arrived home. 

However, the fact that the first human psychedelic experiences were had while riding a bike has caused this date to be forever known and celebrated in underground circles as "Bicycle Day" and honored as the official beginning of the psychedelic movement which would ultimately transform society culturally, artistically and philosophically. Dr. Hoffman's account of his experiment is among the most fascinating and entertaining testimonials in all of scientific literature:

Like a favorite Christmas story you should read it in its entirety every year:

Here the notes in my laboratory journal cease. I was able to write the last words only with great effort. By now it was already clear to me that LSD had been the cause of the remarkable experience of the previous Friday, for the altered perceptions were of the same type as before, only much more intense. I had to struggle to speak intelligibly. I asked my laboratory assistant, who was informed of the self-experiment, to escort me home. We went by bicycle, no automobile available because of wartime restrictions on their use. On the way home, my condition began to assume threatening forms. Everything in my field of vision wavered and was distorted as if seen in a curved mirror. I also had the sensation of being unable to move from the spot. Nevertheless, my assistant later told me that we had traveled very rapidly. Finally, we arrived at home safe and sound, and I was just barely capable of asking my companion to summon our family doctor and request milk from the neighbors.

The dizziness and sensation of fainting became so strong at times that I could no longer hold myself erect, and had to lie down on a sofa. My surroundings had now transformed themselves in more terrifying ways. Everything in the room spun around, and the familiar objects and pieces of furniture assumed grotesque, threatening forms. They were in continuous motion, animated, as if driven by an inner restlessness. The lady next door, whom I scarcely recognized, brought me milk -- in the course of the evening I drank more than two liters. She was no longer Mrs. R., but rather a malevolent, insidious witch with a colored mask.

Even worse than these demonic transformations of the outer world, were the alterations that I perceived in myself, in my inner being. Every exertion of my will, every attempt to put an end to the disintegration of the outer world and the dissolution of my ego, seemed to be a wasted effort. A demon had invaded me, had taken possession of my body, mind, and soul. I jumped up and screamed, trying to free myself from him, but then sank down again and lay helpless on the sofa. The substance, with which I wanted to experiment, had vanquished me. It was the demon that scornfully triumphed over my will. I was seized by the dreadful fear of going insane. I was taken to another world, another place, another time. My body seemed to be without sensation, lifeless, strange. Was I dying? Was this the transition? 

At times I believed myself to be outside my body, and then perceived clearly, as an outside observer, the complete tragedy of my situation. I had not even taken leave of my family (my wife, with our three children had traveled that day to visit her parents, in Lucerne). Would they ever understand that I had not experimented thoughtlessly, irresponsibly, but rather with the utmost caution, and that such a result was in no way foreseeable? My fear and despair intensified, not only because a young family should lose its father, but also because I dreaded leaving my chemical research work, which meant so much to me, unfinished in the midst of fruitful, promising development. Another reflection took shape, an idea full of bitter irony: if I was now forced to leave this world prematurely, it was because of this lysergic acid diethylamide that I myself had brought forth into the world.

By the time the doctor arrived, the climax of my despondent condition had already passed. My laboratory assistant informed him about my self- experiment, as I myself was not yet able to formulate a coherent sentence. He shook his head in perplexity, after my attempts to describe the mortal danger that threatened my body. He could detect no abnormal symptoms other than extremely dilated pupils. Pulse, blood pressure, breathing were all normal. He saw no reason to prescribe any medication. Instead he conveyed me to my bed and stood watch over me. Slowly I came back from a weird, unfamiliar world to reassuring everyday reality. The horror softened and gave way to a feeling of good fortune and gratitude, the more normal perceptions and thoughts returned, and I became more confident that the danger of insanity was conclusively past.

Now, little by little I could begin to enjoy the unprecedented colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind my closed eyes. Kaleidoscopic, fantastic images surged in on me, alternating, variegated, opening and then closing themselves in circles and spirals, exploding in colored fountains, rearranging and hybridizing themselves in constant flux. It was particularly remarkable how every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a door handle or a passing automobile, became transformed into optical perceptions. Every sound generated a vividly changing image, with its own consistent form and color.

Late in the evening my wife returned from Lucerne. Someone had informed her by telephone that I was suffering a mysterious breakdown. She had returned home at once, leaving the children behind with her parents. By now, I had recovered myself sufficiently to tell her what had happened.

Exhausted, I then slept, to awake next morning refreshed, with a clear head, though still somewhat tired physically. A sensation of well- being and renewed life flowed through me. Breakfast tasted delicious and gave me extraordinary pleasure. When I later walked into the garden, in which the sun shone now after a spring rain, everything glistened and sparkled in fresh light. The world was as if newly created. All my senses vibrated in a condition of highest sensitivity, which persisted for the entire day."


Bicycle Day is not as well known as the international day of High Pride, which is celebrated the day after on April 20th. Indeed in general the importance of Dr. Hoffman's discovery was slow to be appreciated, as it would take twenty years after Dr. Hoffman's discovery for LSD to emerge in the larger society. Ironically, it was U.S. government researchers who introduced it to the public in the form of Pentagon testing of LSD to see if it had any military uses. It was hoped by the government that acid could be put into the water supply of enemy nations to incapacitate the population.

The tests were abandoned after it was determined that LSD was too unreliable to be used as a weapon - in fact many of the subjects seemed to love it! Among those who participated in the tests was a young writer named Ken Kesey, who would later write One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and use the money he made from the book to take a bus across the country making a movie about their LSD experiences, and a young musician and songwriter named Robert Hunter, who composed most of the songs of the Grateful Dead.

Ken Kesey

Dr. Hoffman died just last year, at the ripe old age of 102. He attributed his longevity not to anything to do with drugs, but with his unusual practice of spending some part of everyday hanging upside down. He claimed that a lot of the negative effects of aging could be attributed to the effects of gravity on the body over decades of time, and that turning yourself upside down on a regular basis would reverse some of those negative effects.

 

 

Who knows? But it certainly seemed to work for him! 

 

Nice Night

Springfield may be the hometown of Dr. Seuss, but it was in downtown Northampton that I saw this Lorax stenciled on the sidewalk. 

The warm weather saw the windows of the Hamp restaurants opening for the first time this year.

 



Pictures of Luke

Downstairs at the Haymarket.

Peace

This morning I went to the Robert Frost Library at Amherst College but arrived too early and it wasn't open yet. However, I saw these chairs that had left out overnight. 

I sat and contemplated the beauty of the morning until I reached such a state of tranquility that I forgot the time and sat past the hour when the library opened. Finally a squirrel disturbed me by chattering nearby - perhaps there was something it wanted to eat near my chair - so I got up and went.

Happy Bicycle Day.

Dr. Leary vs. Dr. Seuss

A tale of two doctors. 

 



I'm not sure what the date of this essay is, having found it recently simply among one of the entries in an anthology of some of my Baystate Objectivist pieces entitled The Worst of Tom Devine that was released around 1997. Here is what the cover looked like:

I was surprised when someone emailed me last year and said they bought a copy of that anthology for ten dollars at a tag sale, although it was originally distributed throughout the city for free. Go figure. The image on the front is of Jay Libardi. In the following essay the troubled legacies of both of Springfield's most famous doctors are explored. 

Jaws dropped at the Quadrangle last month when Audrey Geisel, widow of the legendary Dr. Seuss, whipped out a check for one million dollars to donate to Springfield's Seuss Memorial Project. The sputters of surprise were due not just to the unexpected size of the donation but to the fact that the Seuss Estate had made any contribution at all.

City leaders were bitterly disappointed several years ago when the will and testament of Dr. Seuss was first read. Seuss died as wealthy as an oil baron because what parent in the past 40 years hasn't bought their kids at least one Dr. Seuss book? But while his will spread financial gifts far and wide, there wasn't one red cent granted in the will to his old hometown of Springfield.

Explanations for the good Doctor's stinginess toward Springfield vary. Some pointed out that Seuss left Springfield as a young man and almost never returned, despite repeated pleas from the city over the years that he lend his name or presence to various local events and activities. Once his parents died, he never returned to Springfield again for any reason for over 22 years.

Shortly before his death however, Seuss made a controversial trip to Springfield to visit his old hometown one last time. Unfortunately the notoriously publicity shy author found himself trailed throughout his visit by publicity hungry politicos and local dignitaries looking for autographs and photo-ops. A limousine tour of Springfield with then Mayor Richard Neal and others backfired when Seuss was said to have exclaimed in dismay when seeing the "revitalized" downtown, "What have you done to my city? This is not my home!"

Some feared that by turning an old man's sentimental journey into a public relations and publicity spectacle, the city had blown whatever chance it had to work its way into the Seuss inheritance. The complete absence of any mention of Springfield in the author's will seemed to confirm those fears. Yet the widow Geisel was here last month with a million dollar freebie in her purse, so maybe a meaningful relationship between Springfield and the Seuss Estate will be possible after all.

If Dr. Seuss was the favorite son Springfield always yearned to claim, then the opposite could be said for Springfield's least favorite son, Dr. Timothy Leary. The self-proclaimed "high-priest" of the 60's LSD movement, Leary was once declared by President Richard Nixon to be "the most dangerous man in America."

Springfield has always been a bit shy about claiming such an outlaw as its own, but for his part Dr. Leary was always very upfront about discussing his Springfield roots. His extensive autobiographical writings provide us with one of the best accounts we have of what it was like to grow up in Springfield in the 1930's, and in interviews Leary always spoke of his years in Springfield in positive terms.

There is no attempt underway to erect any kind of shrine to Dr. Leary, although radical Attorney J. Wesley Miller (above) disrupted the main address at Springfield's Economic Summit recently by crying out for the erection of a "Timothy Leary Hall of Fame." The reaction of the dignitaries in attendance, which included Mayor Albano and Congressman Richard Neal, was dismissive laughter, although some in attendance welcomed Miller's outburst as one of the few genuinely entertaining moments of an otherwise dull affair. In any case there are no expectations of million dollar checks from Leary's heirs since he died almost penniless.

Yet are we missing an opportunity here? The fact that Leary was once one of the nation's most wanted fugitives, who ultimately spent years behind bars (at one point occupying the cell next to Charles Manson) should not completely discourage us from considering exploiting his Springfield origins. After all, there are places out West where people spend good money to see sites associated with Jesse James and Billy the Kid, and those guys were cold-blooded murderers. All Doctor Leary did was try to liberate some minds. Surely there are plenty of old acidheads out there who would spend money to come to Springfield to visit a shrine to Dr. Leary. It's something worth thinking about.

Speaking of J. Wesley Miller, in his later years he was notorious for, among many other eccentricities, appearing at public events in an electric orange jump suit. He had a reason for that (no matter how odd his acts, Wesley always had his reasons) and he explained it to me in a letter when he first began his orange jumpsuit phase. Notice how the envelope had a little commentary in the corner about Johnson's bookstore. 

Here is the letter that was inside.




The excellent blog Exploring Western Massachusetts has this picture of 195 State Street taken in 1905. It was an insurance company then. 

Today it is the Springfield School Department, and this is how it looks 103 years later in 2008. 

I like this trippy little cul-de-sac located across from the Calvin Coolidge Tower at UMass. 

A psychedelic mandala and a golden Egyptian God oversees all. 

Seeing God

Albert Hoffman 1906 - 2008

 


GENEVA (AP) — Albert Hofmann, the father of the mind-altering drug LSD whose medical discovery inspired and arguably corrupted millions, has died. He was 102.

My surroundings had now transformed themselves in more terrifying ways. Everything in the room spun around, and the familiar objects and pieces of furniture assumed grotesque, threatening forms. They were in continuous motion, animated, as if driven by an inner restlessness. The lady next door, whom I scarcely recognized, brought me milk - in the course of the evening I drank more than two liters. She was no longer Mrs. R., but rather a malevolent, insidious witch with a colored mask.

Even worse than these demonic transformations of the outer world, were the alterations that I perceived in myself, in my inner being. Every exertion of my will, every attempt to put an end to the disintegration of the outer world and the dissolution of my ego, seemed to be wasted effort. A demon had invaded me, had taken possession of my body, mind, and soul. I jumped up and screamed, trying to free myself from him, but then sank down again and lay helpless on the sofa. The substance, with which I had wanted to experiment, had vanquished me. It was the demon that scornfully triumphed over my will. I was seized by the dreadful fear of going insane. I was taken to another world, another place, another time. My body seemed to be without sensation, lifeless, strange. Was I dying? Was this the transition?

After a doctor arrived and examined him, finding no physical abnormalities besides extremely dilated pupils, Hofmann realized he wasn't in danger of losing his mind or dying and his experience suddenly took a turn for the better:

Now, little by little I could begin to enjoy the unprecedented colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind my closed eyes. Kaleidoscopic, fantastic images surged in on me, alternating, variegated, opening and then closing themselves in circles and spirals, exploding in colored fountains, rearranging and hybridizing themselves in constant flux. It was particularly remarkable how every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a door handle or a passing automobile, became transformed into optical perceptions. Every sound generated a vividly changing image, with its own consistent form and color.

Late in the evening my wife returned from Lucerne. Someone had informed her by telephone that I was suffering a mysterious breakdown. She had returned home at once, leaving the children behind with her parents. By now, I had recovered myself sufficiently to tell her what had happened.

Exhausted, I then slept, to awake next morning refreshed, with a clear head, though still somewhat tired physically. A sensation of well-being and renewed life flowed through me. Breakfast tasted delicious and gave me extraordinary pleasure. When I later walked out into the garden, in which the sun shone now after a spring rain, everything glistened and sparkled in a fresh light. The world was as if newly created. All my senses vibrated in a condition of highest sensitivity, which persisted for the entire day.

Thus went the world's first acid trip.