August 8, 1969 - The Eve

Spahn Ranch old oak Manson may have punched on that fateful eve

A beater engine roared up Santa Susana Pass Road. It was Charlie and his "New Love." There was always another "New Love."

Their leader was not met with the usual glee. Things had changed around the ranch since Gary's death. The Family was split in two — the ones who "knew," and the ones who didn't. A strange paranoia permeated the Family, fueled by weapons and weapons training sessions. No longer was the scene of free love, folk music, and LSD orgies for which Manson's clan had been known.

Charlie stopped the old truck in front of the boardwalk and was met by a few very tense looking Family members. He had several girls tour Stephanie Schram around her new home while he caught up on the latest news.

None of it was good. His girls told of Bobby's arrest for the murder of Gary Hinman.

Before Charlie could digest the news, Sadie, her eyes glassy, her expression vacuous, said, "Hey Charlie, Leslie, Mary, Squeaky, Sandy, Linda, and me, we've come up with a full-proof plan on how to get Bobby off the hook. Why don't we off some Pigs and make it exactly like Gary's death, and then the cops will know Bobby is innocent 'cause he was in the clink. They'll for sure pin it on the Black Panthers."

"Woman, are you crazy? Off some pigs? You want every cop on our tail? You guys do in anymore people for your lousy drug-deal fuckups, and my ass will be hauled back to prison, sure as shit! I've broken parole by coming to LA and setting up the chop-shop, and dealing. No way, man. I'm not into what you're serving. You try this shit, and I'm outta here for good. I'm not taking the fall for a bunch of screwed-up kids."

"Charlie, it'll work, I promise. All we gotta do is make it look like the scene at Gary's — blood writing on the walls and slash the Pigs but good. Put it all on Blackie's fuzzy head, just like you told us." Sadie smiled, proud of herself for throwing Charlie's words back at him.

Leslie stepped up. "Besides, you can't leave us now. Not when Bobby's in jail, and we're so close to living your desert dream up at Barker."

Linda stepped up. "We'll keep you out of this. We'll get Bobby back. Then we can pack up for good on the money we'll get from Gary's cars and be gone before anyone knows."

Charlie leaned into the girls and hissed, "Whatever you do or don't do, I don't want no part, you hear?" Charlie rejoined Stephanie as she had returned from the tour.

That left Sadie, Leslie, and Linda to their "plans," while he and Stephanie walked off in search of Sandy, Squeaky, and Mary — his three main squeezes. Charlie needed to get their thoughts before any decisions would be made.

After a bit, Charlie said, "Stephanie, you go with Mary. Get those stolen credit cards from Bruce. Mary, you and Sandy go into town and get the supplies for Sadie's plan." The girls ran off, all smiles, excitement bubbling at screwing it to The Man.

Waiting for Mary and Sandy to return, Charlie sat down with the Family to dig into Brenda's Garbage-Bin Goulash. He regaled the Family with his week-long adventures up north — acquiring a huge stash of drugs from friends in Santa Barbara to placate the SS, taking the baths at Esalen, and the acid trip with Stephanie on the beach.

The relaxed meal soon turned tense when Squeaky ran into the saloon. Breathless, she leaned down and whispered into Charlie's ear. "Mary and Sandy just telephoned from jail. They were arrested at the San Fernando Valley Sears department store with the stolen cards."

Another bout of bad news was more than Charlie could take. First, the killed record deal, the Crowe shooting, the SS drug burn, Bobby arrested for Gary's death, and now his two main girls locked up for credit card fraud.

Charlie stood up, threw his rickety chair across the room, and stormed out. He marched down to the creek where an old, gnarled oak stood. He pounded the trunk like it was a punching bag at Gold's Gym.

What had begun in '67, a celebration of his freedom had morphed into an uncontrollable chain of events he wanted no part in. But Manson knew he would be linked to those events by mere association. Charlie had promised himself. When he got sprung from Terminal Island, he'd never get into any scrape that would send him back behind bars. But in less than two years, he had done just that. His instinct was to take off to protect his own skin, but he couldn't make himself flee. His carefree attitude with the kids had morphed into something akin to affection, and an odd co-dependency.

That moment at the old oak tree was Charlie's breaking point.

Someone had to pay.

Breathless and with bloodied knuckles, Manson trod back up the hill to search for Tex. He found him in the back-house, high as a kite on something, but lucid enough to listen to his leader.

"Tex, you know I saved your ass with that Crowe deal. Well, it's time for you to pay the piper. I want you, and Sadie, and, uh, Katie. I want you guys to get into some dark clothes, borrow Johnny's Ford, and go off some pigs tonight, some high-priced pigs. Keep killing and stealing until you get enough dough to bail out Cupid and the girls. We'll scream outta here before the Panthers get wise. You dig?"

"Really? Wow. Okay, sure Charlie. I know I owe ya big for Crowe. You know I'd do anything for you and the girls. What place you got in mind?"

Charlie grabbed Tex by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. Manson's eyes shone as black orbs, full of hate. "Listen and listen but good. I don't want no part in how you do it, or where you do it, or who you do it to. Just get it done. ‘Cause if you don't do it, then I'll have to move on it, and I can paint some pretty bad pictures, you dig?"

Tex knew Charlie meant business. This was no typical creepy crawl.

Tex raised his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'll take care of everything. You go be with Stephie. Me and the girls will get the dough. Should we take Linda as the driver? ‘Cause she's the only one here with a license."

"Take her. Don't take her. I don't give a shit. Just make it like Gary's scene. Talk to Sadie. She knows the deal." Charlie unholstered his favorite gun, the one he always carried under his leather tunic. "Take the Buntline [Ranch hand, Randy Starr, had given the gun to Manson]. It's loaded. Grab some more shells from the gun room. Don't use it unless you gotta, as it'll attract unwanted attention. Use my cutlass instead. It's in the gun room. Get knives for the girls. Nice and easy. No loud noises. You dig? Keep killin' fat pigs until you get the dough."

Charlie stormed out. His only thought: to find Stephie and get some "rolled gold" to ease the tension in his shoulders and dampen his simmering rage.

Tex leaned back. He needed a moment to get his head together, to shed his drug-fueled stupor and make a plan. He pried himself off the moth-eaten couch and staggered to the doorway, squinting hard in the dazzling sunshine. He lumbered up to the boardwalk, kicking stones along the way. He spied Sadie leaning against one of the wooden posts, talking with two Straight Satan boys. Tex grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her aside for a con fab.

Tex called out to Danny. "Get me three small folding Buck knives and Charlie's cutlass. No, a bayonet." Tex knew the bayonet hid better and was easier to use. Danny did as he was told, asking no questions despite the many percolating in his head.

Sadie went to the children's trailer and roused Katie from her acid-fueled sleep.

Tex ordered Linda to get her driver's license.

Sadie ran around, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, like she was on a K.O.A. camp treasure hunt, grabbing dark clothing and ringing up Barbara at the back-house for more.

While Katie and Linda got into their dark togs, Tex and Sadie ran off behind the corral to snort some powder courage. Sadie kept a meth/cocaine mix hidden under the bunkhouse floorboards in an old baby-food jar — speed Charlie forbade at the ranch. With their noses properly wiped, and their eyes glistening, the duo were rarin' to go. They returned to the boardwalk with more glee than expected from Slippies on a usual creepy crawl.

Dusk had long ago melted into darkness. Before you could spell "D-E-A-T-H-S-E-N-T-E-N-C-E," Sadie gave Katie and Linda a Buck knife each, and the three tumbled into the Ford. Tex placed red-handled wire-cutters in the back, slid the Buntline into the glove compartment, and dropped the bayonet and a coil of rope on the front floorboard. The old Ford Galaxie 500 slowly motored away from the frontage, kicking up dust as it made its way onto Santa Susana Pass Road, heading for a copycat killing spree in which Sadie and the girls had put so much faith.

The last anyone saw of Charlie, he was squatting in front of the boardwalk, a Mona-Lisa smile on his face, his eyes sparkling under the yard light. Tex saw Charlie's hand rise, so he stopped the car. Charlie ambled up, leaned into the driver's side window, and said, "Leave a sign. You girls know what I mean. Something witchy." Tex and the girls smiled. Tex wheeled off into the night.

It didn't matter this deadly creepy crawl was happening because the Family had screwed up. It didn't matter they would make innocents pay for their own misdeeds. All that mattered was people would pay for the Charlie's hurt. And we're not talking about his bloody knuckles.

By the time the headlights lit up the Cielo Drive sign post showing the way to 10050, it would be close to midnight, on that hot and sultry summer's night in Benedict Canyon, August 9, 1969.