August 10, 1969 - LaBianca Beginning

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity

Surely some revelation is at hand Surely the Second Coming is at hand…

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

The House on the Hill, as I like to refer to the LaBianca residence, sat quiet, still on this late summer's night, despite the curtains not being drawn and lamp light illuminating front room.

It was sometime after 2 a.m.

The day previous for the LaBianca's included a long two and a half drive. Leno, Rosemary, and her daughter Suzan, returned to Los Angeles in Leno's 1968 Ford Thunderbird, with a pleasure boat in tow, from a brief stay at Lake Isabella.

It had been fairly cool and enjoyable at the lake. But on entering the city, the heat hit with a vengeance. Leno drove Suzan to her Los Feliz apartment building, 4616 Greenwood Place, arriving there around 1 a.m.

Leno then stopped at the corner of Hillhurst and Franklin to gas up at the Chevron station there. And to pick up the day's horse-racing form, and a copy of the Sunday LA Times.

Leno and Rosemary had listened to the radio all the way back from Lake Isabella, hearing all about the awful murders in Benedict Canyon. The couple wanted to read the details from the morning paper.

As Leno pulled in, newsstand owner, John Fokianos, walked over to the car.

"Hey, Leno, how are you and the Missus doing tonight?"

"Fine, just fine, a bit tired from the drive back to town."

"You been up to the lake again? It must be nice and cool up there," said John, smiling.

"Yeah, but I can't get racing forms up there," Leno quipped and winked back.

"Ah, you bet! Say, you people hear the awful news? About those killings in the hills?"

"Yeah, Rosemary's all upset over it. They got a guy for the murders, so why get upset?"

"Listen," Rosemary said. "I swear someone was in our house when we were up at Isabella the last time." Deep concern was etched on her face.

Leno shook his head. "Nah, look it's late, John. I'll see ya tomorrow."

"You two have yourself a good night, now." John waved as Leno drove on.

***

John Fokianos may have been the last person, other than the killers, to see Leno and Rosemary LaBianca alive.

 ***

When Swartz's trusty Ford — borrowed yet again for another night of untold blood lust adventures — pulled alongside 3301 Waverly Drive, Charlie and the kids noticed a Thunderbird with a pleasure boat parked on the street, facing west towards Griffith Park. (Later when canvassed, no one in the neighborhood saw the Slippies arrive.)

On this night, it was especially quiet next door at 3267. The home east of the LaBianca residence had sat vacant for the last few months. Harold True, Al Swerdloff, and Ernie Baltzell had rented 3267 prior to the LaBianca's moving into 3301. The three had hosted many LSD and peyote parties there, with Charlie, Sadie, Linda and Bob Kasabian as guests at different times.

Fate can be funny. Moral of this Story: Know your neighbors, past and present, and know their so-called friends.

On this night, there was no party at either address. Charlie parked the Ford on the opposite side of the street. Linda recognized the area, and especially the house east of the LaBianca's.

"Charlie, you're not going to Harold's house, are ya?" asked Linda, panic painting her face. She considered Harold True a friend of sorts.

"Nah, I'm heading up that line of trees back there and checking out the place next door." [Charlie may have known the LaBianca's had called in a noise complaint on one of Harold True's parties and Manson was out for revenge. He, like Tex, also favored sites with which he was familiar.]

Charlie shut off the engine and head lights. He opened the driver's side door and bent down to retrieve an object — Linda believed it was a gun — from under the seat and tucked it into his belt.

Linda saw Charlie head up True's old driveway, but at some point, well beyond her sight, Charlie crossed over to the east lawn of the LaBianca residence, his admitted destination.

***

Charlie crossed the lawn and creepy-crawled to the front of the house to have a peek in the living room window. Slowly raising his head enough to look in but not be noticed, Charlie saw a heavy-set man asleep on the couch, an open newspaper and reading glasses laying on a nearby coffee-table.

Satisfied by what he saw, he creepy-crawled back to the Ford. He leaned in the open front passenger window and said, grinning from ear to ear, "We got ourselves some fat pigs. Tex, get out. Bring the bayonet."

"Okay, man, I got it. But what about the girls?"

"The girls will come later. Let's me and you have some fun first, you dig?"

Tex just smiled back, probably thinking, Yeah, sure Charlie, whatever you say, but I know killing ain't no tea party.

The duo headed straight up the LaBianca driveway this time and creepy-crawled around to the east side of the house, facing True's place, where they found a white French door begging to be jimmied. But when they checked the knob, there was no need. The door was unlocked and opened without a sound.

Charlie and Tex were immediately met by a large dog and two little ones, who, instead of growling, barking or biting, licked Charlie's hand.

When they reached the living room, Charlie nudged the sleeping Leno with his gun. And with a wide, thin-lipped smile — similar to the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, I'm sure — the following dialogue, a mix of this author's creative license and excerpts from Manson's book, “Manson In His Own Words” unfolded. "Who? Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want?" Leno blinked, startled out of his deep sleep, more confused than frightened at this point.

"Just relax, pal. We're not going to hurt you, just be cool. Don't be afraid," Charlie said.

"That's easy enough for you to say. But how can I help but be afraid when you've got a gun pointed at me?"

"It's all right, man. Nothin's going to happen to you. All we want is your money. Is there anyone else in the house?" asked Charlie in his serene sing-song voice.

"Yes, my wife's in the bedroom, but don't bother her. I'll give you all I have."

Charlie removed two, 42-inch long leather thongs from around his neck and gave them to Tex to tie up Leno. Charlie went to investigate the bedroom. Sure enough, he found Rosemary in bed. He tip-toed around to her side, pulled off the covers, and nudged her shoulder, saying, "Wake up lady, you got company."

As her eyes opened and focused on Charlie's face. She sat up with a start and grabbed at the bed covers. Charlie looked amused but wasn't in the least interested in what she had to offer. He handed Rosemary her dressing gown, which had been laying on a bedside chair.

Rosemary reached over to switch on the bedside table lamp, to get a better view of her "company." Charlie gently grabbed her hand to persuade her differently.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?" Rosemary pulled back her arm and frantically donned the dressing gown.

"Don't be alarmed. No one's going to get hurt. We're just after some dough." Charlie guided Rosemary into the living room and had her sit next to her husband.

***

It is unknown if Leno or Rosemary did the math and figured out these two Hippie-types were the killers from Benedict Canyon the previous night. It is my fervent wish they did not. But I fear dear Rosemary did.

***

"Okay, where's your money?" asked Charlie.

"In my wallet in the bedroom and some more in my wife's purse."

Charlie nodded at Tex to go retrieve the two wallets, which contained less than $100.

"I can't see shit. Can I turn a light on in here, or what?" Tex called out to Charlie.

Charlie turned to Rosemary. "Hey lady, you got a smaller light in there other than those huge lamps?"

"The closet. When you open the louvered doors, an interior light comes on," Rosemary nervously replied.

"Tex, open the closet. She says a light will come on." Tex finally found the wallets, returned to the living room, and handed them both over to Charlie. Charlie took Leno's cash, dropped the empty billfold on the coffee table, and pocketed Rosemary's wallet.

Charlie shook his head. "That all you got, man?"

"Yes, that's all we have here. But if you take me to my store, there's more. All you want," Leno offered.

Less than $100 again! This time, divided by two souls.

***

Killing high-end Pigs for money wasn't paying off for old Charlie Manson. Either that, or like Tex, Manson wasn't willing to properly search the place for pricey items, like jewelry, collector's coins, and electronic items that were at the LaBianca property. Charlie's goal to bail out Bobby and the girls had somehow taken a backseat to this ghoulish game of revenge, where the Helter Skelter rules kept changing.

***

Sensing a trap more than a legitimate offer, Charlie ignored Leno's pleas. He had Tex take Rosemary back to the bedroom to tie her up with whatever was available.

Tex pushed Rosemary down the hall, into the bedroom, and shoved her down on the bed. He looked around in the dimly lit room for something resembling a restraint when he spied the electrical cord to Rosemary's side table lamp. Tex yanked out the cord and wrapped it tightly around Rosemary's wrists, choosing to tie her wrists in front and not behind. More on that later.

Satisfied that Rosemary was properly cuffed, Tex left her alone to her horror-stricken thoughts and returned to the living room. Tex pulled out the cord from a telephone that sat on a nearby hutch, closed the kitchen window louvers and the living room drapes. Tex was on his game tonight.

"Guard them. I'll send the girls back."

Charlie left the home a $100 richer than when he arrived. He skulked out the same way he entered, the dogs meekly following him to the side door. All Charlie knew, or cared about, was whatever was about to occur in that House on the Hill would not be by his hands. Charlie sauntered back down the drive to the kids who were patiently waiting in the Ford.

Charlie leaned into the open right rear window and hissed, "Sadie, Sadie, wake up, man! Wake up!"

But she couldn't, or wouldn't, so Charlie didn't push the issue.

"Katie, you and Lulu [Leslie van Houten]. You up for some Piggy fun?"

"You betcha, Charlie. Anything you want!" Leslie said, flashing a beaming smile.

"Okay, out you two get. Linda, grab me them knives on the floor beside ya."

And so she did, silently praying she wouldn't be drafted for death again.

The girls exited the Ford. The trio stood beside the car while Charlie instructed the girls on what to do.

"Do it good. Make sure it's done so the Pigs will put it together with Hinman and that pad last night. The rest of us are splitting to find another house [which they did but thankfully failed at killing anyone else that night]. When you finish up, hitch back to the ranch, and we'll see you there. And whatever you do, don't fuckin' lose those goddamned knives!" Charlie handed Katie and Leslie each a model No. 119 Buck knife, still smaller than the bayonet, but a larger, more sturdy, fixed-bladed knife than the folding model Nos. 110/112 used at Tate.

Charlie watched as the two headed up the drive. He got in the driver's seat and pulled away. He handed Rosemary's leather wallet over to Linda, who was still very much a part of this ghoulish gang. She obeyed Charlie's orders that night and was not yet the guilt-ridden victim she would later become in the witness chair.

It was sometime after 2:20 a.m., August 10, 1969.

And although Charlie's work was done at 3301 Waverly. The work for Tex, Katie, and Lulu had just begun.