2nd Official Tate-LaBianca Murders Blog

The Cannes Film Fest gave the 56 year-old film maker a standing ovation for his recent creation, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood. They would. After all, it’s Tinsel Town enablers, enabling. I’m not sure that’s the barometer one should use to assess this celluloid trip. Quentin was six and I was five when the Tate-La Bianca murders went down. I doubt either one of us on August 9, 1969 were smoking LSD laced cigs in between playing with Barbies and G. I. Joes, but sober and young, we were obviously both affected. Although light-years higher and farther in artistic success than little old me, Quentin and I have used the same delivery in our works — wrapping a fictional tale around a factual event. For both of us, it’s a way to go down Memory Lane and get revenge or sneak in the last word or just plain have a few chuckles at inside jokes only those present could appreciate. I get that, I do, but here’s the rub… and I will explain via paraphrased dialogue from Rob...

This is the final part in the Brian Davis and Catscradle77 interview with Bill Garretson, audio-taped six years ago this month on Star City Radio. Parts One , Two A , Two B , and Three are here. I apologize for the very late arrival of this final episode, but better late than never. ~~~ Before I begin my final analysis, I want to announce to my readership (although by now it is probably widely known) that Bill passed away from cancer, August 16, 2016, at age 66. Brian Davis posted the announcement January of this year, and you can read his take on Bill's loss in his Star City Radio article, entitled, Bill Garretson Has Passed Away Brian offers a link - lhs60.net - for the short Lancaster High School announcement of Bill's death but currently this link is no longer in operation. This was the announcement below: Courtesy tlbradio.com I must say I was rather shocked to hear of his passing at still such a young age, but it should not come as any shock, really, fo...

Early Morning…Saturday August 9, 1969 Crystalline, aquiline sky, omnipresent, penetrating heat, a suffocating kind of quiet in Benedict Canyon. No birds singing, the usually constant traffic melee down on Sunset Boulevard was mysteriously muffled to the point of non-existent, no voices even, no hint of living things... The lodge-pole pines bent back and forth imperceptibly, the odd soft creak or groan could have been heard...if anyone with working ears were there... Now - sheets, nicely laundered, freshly washed bed-sheets, so stark-white they were against the soft moss-green of the front lawn, blades of that grass grabbed by desperate fingers, those fingers now under those sheets in a rigid grip made some eight hours before. Bed-sheets don't belong on front lawns, do they? Finally - the hum-click of large professional photographic cameras, the odd hum-click of the pool filter, living beings there now but conversing in reverent tones and only to offer orders. Get this ...

In this post, I examine why Sharon acted as she did. And in so doing, maybe put our hearts at rest. That what happened to that poor woman and her unborn baby, in that house, on that night, could not be avoided. For Sharon, there were no other outs. This examination belongs in the "What If" department store of Life. Doubtless another store where Charlie would have had Mary and Sandy skulk into and buy stuff on a stolen credit card while other Family members sliced, diced and julienned their way into the criminal history books. But in the wee hours, a writer's imagination soars. At the witching hour, when I'm tucked up safely in bed, I wonder if the surviving family members of this Cielo slaughter — Paul, Doris, Patti (now deceased), Debra Tate and Roman Polanski — ever laid awake in their beds, asking similar why's. I'm sure the family members had more inside information than the public has ever had, regarding Sharon's actions and why escaping from that l...

They left. I saw them leave. It took forever. I wonder… Do all well-healed Beautiful People take THAT long to go somewhere? Well, you know, my take on Time is not as others but it seemed to take forever. Mind you, there was a tense moment there, or what felt like ten minutes, when whoever was driving that Chevelle either was under the influence, nervous as Hell or just had a death wish desire to screw up the new paint job on that black-striped-ride-from-Heaven with a rather easily avoided collision with that hideous gate. I mean, who goes out of their way to scratch a cherry Chevelle with a metal gate. Not me, Man! Oh, Boy, not me! Ah, well, kiddies will be kiddies…I think that scruffy little dude didn’t belong up here anyways…ragged jeans, a non-designer T-shirt looking like it had been clean…last Wednesday… It’s amazing though, you meet someone you didn’t plan on meeting, not of your class, not from your “world”, and you end up just plain liking the guy…what ya gonna do?...

Everyone has faults and weaknesses… MsBurb isn’t any different… And when it’s been a long day, of faxes and deadlines and screaming expectations, cocktail hour isn’t just an hour in the evening… And with the booze, the emotions run higher and the pain and the fright of that night seems all the more real…to MsBurb, that is. Sure, the victims had not a clue…until it was all too late. But the killers had time, quite a bit of time to kill…before the killing… And so, with that thought in mind, and with new ice swimming amidst her latest concoction of appletinis in the crystal martini pitcher (for she NEVER shakes anything so yummy as a ‘tini!), she decides to embark on a night of what ifs. Sure, those of you who will read this post, in the light of day tomorrow and with all your mental faculties intact will say, “MsBurb, what ifs, what ifs, why bother yourself with them? Why relive those moments over and over again? It will serve no purpose, th...

"You can't put your arms around a memory. Don't try." The Late, Great Johnny Thunders You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory "One day while I was not at home, while she was there and all alone, the angels came. Now all I have is memories of Honey, and I wake up nights, and call her name". Bobby Goldsboro Honey So,...I'm sittin' in my orange velveteen chair...eatin' Starbucks espresso truffles and watchin' "H.R. Pufenstuff",...via my ipod,...when I began to muse about the sorry state of Leno Labianca's finances. "Leno Labianca" (That's a funny name. You know you want to say it out loud....go ahead....I'll wait.) Anyway,...I'm sittin' there thinkin' about his finances, right? I mean, just how does a person own nine racehorses...and nobody knows about them? What kinda freakin' screwed up ...

…are MsBurb’s fact-based fictional versions of the events of July 25, 26, 27th, (for the July 25-27th and August 8 & 9th stories, click on the Past Blogs Sidebar) August 8, 9, 10 and 17th, 1969. Each has been written and will be posted on its corresponding 40th anniversary date to honour the victims of those nights; Gary Allen Hinman Steven Earl Parent Thomas John Kummer “Jay Sebring” Wojiciech”Voytek” Frykowski Abigail Anne “Gibby” Folger Sharon Marie (Tate) Polanski Paul Richard Polanski Pasqualino Antonio "Leno" LaBianca Rosemary (nee' Ruth Katherine Elliott/Rosemary Harmon,Struthers) LaBianca Donald Jerome “Shorty” Shea …not to glorify the killers but to demonstrate the utter senseless and barbaric nature of their wanton and selfish acts, that ten innocent lives were lost in a space of 24 days and nights of unimaginable horror, the world and their surviving family members pray never happens again.

The old Ford did its job. Despite Tex getting lost for a while in the canyon, the car finally found its way to Cielo Drive. It was after midnight. The calendar worm had turned. After skillfully climbing the pole and cutting four telephone lines with the ranch's bolt-cutters (Tex would have made a great telephone repair guy. How did he know which wires to cut? Is that just a natural, God-given talent, or what?), Tex climbed back down and parked the car for a fast get-a-way. The four walked back up the hill to the gate and beyond. "Shh! Sadie, Katie, stop giggling. I need you to focus. When we get in there, stay close to me and keep quiet." Sadie and Katie nodded. Linda stared straight ahead, a blank slate of uncertainty. Tex helped each girl climb over the chain-link fence to the right of the main gate. Within minutes, Tex heard an engine thrum. From inside the property, a car approached. Its headlights momentarily blinded Tex and the girls. "Stay back! Someone...