Authors: Randy Mixter
“We’re here,” the cabdriver said, with obvious disgust, as he pulled up against the curb. They had arrived at the 1300 block of Haight Street and the location of his rendezvous with Chick, The San Francisco Oracle.
Alex retrieved his suitcase from the cab’s trunk and hurriedly paid the driver, who had exited the cab and seemed to be itching for a fight. Standing in front of the Oracle’s glass window, he abruptly realized two things; his dress code of a white button down short sleeve shirt, khaki pants and Weejun loafers looked significantly out of place in these surroundings, and he had neglected to ask what Chick looked like when he had him on the phone.
The several hippies lounging on the sidewalk looked pretty much the same; Chick could have been any one of them. He had resigned himself to approaching each of the men congregating around the store, when one of them walked up to him.
“I’m not a psychic, nor do I judge myself to be a prophet of any kind. However, I firmly believe I am now standing in front of my Uncle Max’s most adventurous employee.”
Alex found himself staring at an honest to goodness hippie, close-up and personal. His hair was dark and long, parted down the middle and waving a little at his shoulders. A beard and moustache covered a good deal of his face. He wore an off-white loose fitting shirt adorned with a necklace of multi-colored beads. His pants, which flared out at the knees, appeared to be denim but were so blanketed with patches that it was hard to tell. Worn sandals encased his bare feet.
“It appears,” Chick continued, “that Uncle Max’s employee is either a mute or a practicing mime.”
“Sorry,” he said, as he broke loose of his culture shock daze. He held out his hand. “My name is Alex Conley.”
Chick shook his hand and smiled “Chick. Pleased to know you have a voice. My hand signing skills are rather limited.”
“I’m just amazed at what’s going on here.” Alex said by way of explanation. “I just never thought it would be like this.”
“Take it in while you can champ. I fear our culture is on the ropes and soon to be down for the count. For now, let us agree to live for today. I’ll take you to our pad where you can relieve yourself of your burdensome friend.” Chick pointed to the suitcase. “Then we must get you into some proper clothing. Hopefully, once you look the part, your mind will adapt to your new home.” Chick looked at his newfound protégée, seemingly shell-shocked by his surroundings, with detached amusement. “And your eyes will retreat into their sockets, and your mouth will occasionally close.”
THE HOUSE ON ASHBURY STREET
They walked down Haight Street.
From time to time Chick pointed out landmarks he deemed significant to Alex’s education of the neighborhood. During this impromptu travelogue, his many friends constantly interrupted him.
“My man, Chick!” “Peace, Chick.” “Looking good, Chick!” were just a few of the many salutations thrown his way. There were also many hugs and peace sign gestures. In just two short blocks, Alex had seen more affection then he had experienced at home in the past year.
Chick noticed his stares. “It’s cool champ. I’m an elder statesman of sorts. I’ve been around here forever.”
They turned left onto Ashbury Street, Alex following Chick’s lead. Victorian style homes lined the street. Unlike Haight Street, Most of these houses seemed to be personal residences. This street had less foot traffic; the exception being the front yard of a home where many young people congregated.
Chick appeared unfazed by the commotion on the dwelling’s steps and lawn. “Hey, Jerry!” Chick yelled out to one of the group standing about. A young man with long curly hair, and a pleasant smile, acknowledged Chick with a nod.
“You ever heard of The Grateful Dead?” Chick asked.
“No,” Alex said truthfully.
“You will, champ. You will,” Chick said as they walked past the crowd.
“And here we are,” Chick announced as he turned to his left, facing a house not far from where the crowd had gathered.
“It ain’t much, but its home.”
Chick was right about it not being much, Alex thought to himself. The grass surrounding the Victorian property was long and weedy. The concrete steps leading to the front porch were cracked and at odd and dangerous looking angles to the approaching sidewalk. The porch itself looked old and in serious need of paint. The roof above it buckled in the middle as if giving notice to its impending collapse. The entire front exterior of the Victorian home was a riot of cracked and peeling paint. Alex noticed that the glass on two of the four front windows had been broken and not repaired.
“Our maintenance man has the summer off,” Chick said as he led the way up the rickety steps to the open front door.
“It’s quiet here now. Most of the house is up at the park or walking Haight Street. A few help out at the stores or kitchens.”
Alex was in a spacious lobby area. A large ornate chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. In front of him was a room containing a long table and chairs. He assumed this was the dining area. On his right was a kitchen. Another room, from which rows of different colored beads dangled from the entranceway, was to the right of the dining room, across the lobby. On his left, a wooden stairway curved upward to the right before ending on the second floor.
Chick had already started up the wide expanse. “Stay to the right by the railing. You do not want to trust these old steps. Cowboy found that out the hard way.”
Alex held his suitcase in his left hand while gripping the railing. About halfway up, he noticed a rather large hole in the center of a step. “Cowboy?” he asked.
In front of him, Chick nodded in agreement. “Cowboy,” he said as he cautiously peered into the dark hole. “You okay down there Cowboy?”
Alex gripped the railing tightly as he listened for a reply.
“Only kidding, man.” Chick turned to face him. “He just broke a toe.”
Chick’s moustache and beard were almost thick enough to disguise his smile. “Try not to abuse the railing too much, it’s the only one we’ve got.”
At the top of the stairs was a long corridor, along its length were six entranceways, all, except for two, had beads for doors.
“This is the bathroom.” Chick pointed to the closest door. “And here we have the three bedrooms. This one,” Chick said, pointing to his immediate left, “belongs to the girls. The middle one is for couples, and the last one is for the guys,” he added, pointing down the hallway. “Sometimes you’ll find a girl or two in the guys room, but our three children sleep in the girls room. No men are allowed in there.”
Alex looked towards the door at the far end of the hall, unique in the sense that, unlike the bathroom door, a painted peace sign covered most of it.
“That would be my room,” Chick said as if reading his thoughts. “It is my compensation for my father paying the rent on this place.”
“Good deal,” Alex said.
“He doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart,” Chick replied. “He likes me out of what little hair he has left. This is my extended summer camp.”
He followed Chick to the last door on the left. “This is your room,” Chick said as he opened the beads.
There were six mattresses on the floor along with numerous piles of dirty clothing. Blankets and pillows covered five of the beds .The one nearest the door was sheet and blanket free.
Chick looked down at the stripped mattress. “They look pretty miserable uncovered,” he commented after a moment or two of reflection. “Anyhow, that one is yours, champ. You can put your suitcase on top of it for now. Don’t worry about theft, nobody steals anything around here.”
No wonder, Alex was about to say but decided against it. He was glad to be finally free of the suitcase however, and promptly dropped it on his new bed.
“Bella will bring you a clean pillow, sheets, and a blanket when she gets back from the Diggers this evening. Before you ask, it is a free store where you can pick up clothing and the occasional bedding supplies. She knew you were coming here today. In our community, we look out for each other. Tomorrow we will visit the store and pick you up some appropriate apparel. Meanwhile, what do you say we visit the park before supper?”
HIPPIE HILL
It was late afternoon
when they arrived at the Golden Gate Park. It was not a long trek, but Alex wished he had worn his tennis shoes on the trip. He had not expected such a thorough foot tour of the area. He began to practice various walking techniques to relieve his sore feet. From the corner of his eye, Chick observed his awkward gait.
“You okay? You’re starting to remind me of Cowboy.”
“These shoes aren’t made for walking,” Alex replied, while trying a heel to toe technique.
“I guess we should have gone to the Diggers today after all. I’m not sure if they will have sandals though. They go fast. Anyhow, after we go under that bridge up ahead we’ll be on grass. Feel free to take off your shoes then. Everybody else does.”
The tunnel under the bridge, as it turned out, was the entrance to an enchanted land. As they walked into the sunlight at the tunnel’s end, a large sloping meadow of grass and trees greeted them. The noise of the city disappeared, replaced by the sounds of laughter and song.
“The locals call it Hippie Hill,” Chick said. “We just call it a great place to mellow out.”
Hundreds of young people sprawled about on the grass. The place had a festive air about it.
“Days are celebrated in this place.” Chick motioned to the gathering. “Here, the most ordinary of occurrences are met with joy.”
Alex looked around him and knew that Chick had brought him to the heart of this new cultural movement. He quickly took off his shoes and socks. The grass beneath his bare feet felt so heavenly that he sighed loud enough for Chick to hear.
“Shoes are the burden of the working man. The freeness of bare feet in grass cannot be overestimated.” With that, Chick removed his sandals. “Let’s walk a bit.”
They began their ascent up the hill. Chick, once again, was repeatedly stopped by friends offering him hits off the joints they were smoking. Chick gladly accepted their gifts, inhaling the marijuana deeply.
“First time?” Chick asked, while passing a well used reefer Alex’s way. It was his first time, though he was ashamed to admit it. He took it nonetheless, and breathed in enough smoke to make Chick beam like a proud father.
He coughed out most of it, which embarrassed him to no end, but amused the few scattered about him.
“Everyone coughs the first time.” Chick patted Alex’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”
He did get used to it. After the third time, he was inhaling like a professional, and beginning to feel the drug’s affects. Everything around him became sharper and clearer. The air smelled fresher, the grass felt softer. Colors jumped out at him, all bright and new.
They were nearing the hill’s crest when Chick suggested they sit for a while. That was fine with him. He wanted to stay in this garden of wonders for as long as possible.
Neither spoke as they lay in the grass. Somewhere, close by, a guitar strummed. Alex closed his eyes and gave himself to the music. A girl was singing in the distance, so far away that he could not make out the words of the song. There was something about the melody, something familiar. He tried to concentrate on the voice and the guitar, but his mind was spellbound by the smoke he had inhaled, and would not cooperate.
He was ready to resign himself in futility when the wind shifted. It moved down the hill, carrying the song with it.
Alex sat up. He had heard this song before. He remembered it from a dream he had earlier in the year. The wind swirled playfully about him as he rose to his feet. He turned and looked up to the very top of the hill.
At first, the brightness of an ebbing sun obscured the dancer on the hill. Then she moved into the shadow of a solitary tree and he was finally able to see her outlined on the sky. He could see her long blond hair and the flowers about her head. She wore a long white dress that exposed her arms and shoulders and ended at her bare feet.
Now he remembered his dream. He remembered this girl and this song. He walked slowly toward her so as not to agitate his fragile thoughts. The song became louder as he moved. This was the girl and the song of his dream. He was sure of it now.
He was almost close enough to see her face, just another step or two would do the trick. She had stopped dancing now. He could not yet see her eyes in the shadows, but he could feel them. They seemed to be looking at him; looking through him. She slowly raised both arms until they were at shoulder level. Her hands opened to the air and she lowered her head. Alex stopped and looked at her. He was still too far away to see her face clearly. She raised her head and again faced him and he sensed she was smiling.
So you came,
his mind said to him in a voice he had only heard once before.
They said you would and you did.
“Where you going my friend?” he heard Chick ask from somewhere behind him. He turned to tell Chick that he had seen the girl of his dream, and that she was here, standing just beyond his reach. He felt the need to get closer to her. He had to see her face. He wanted to ask her how she could speak inside his head. He desperately needed to know these things, and then he would tell Chick everything. He turned into the sun and she was gone. At the crest of the hill, a tree stood alone. Its branches giving shade to grass only. The song was gone too. The air about him hummed with words and laughter, but not a single note of the song remained.
“We had better start heading back now champ.” Chick had moved next to him. “It’s getting close to supper time, and I don’t know about you, but I could eat a horse.”
A WORLD OF MAGIC
On the way back to the house,
he related his dream to Chick. When he began to describe the girl on the hill, Chick stopped him.
“It sounds like you saw Sarah. She’s one of ours. Been living at the house for a couple of months. She loves to dance at the top of the hill. Same spot all the time. She rarely does it during the day though.”