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...

Disclaimer: This is a purely fictional tale, no such encounter ever took place…but oh, if it had… A warm, soft-breezy day on Malibu Beach in August of ‘59. Not a busy beach day for it’s Monday but some pale-skinned tourists and well-healed retired couples and Mothers with young children are quietly filling up the sandy shore. It’s a Teacher’s Day today in High School so teenagers from the Greater L.A. Area are haunting the coastline too - a rare thing for a weekday. One Mother had to drive all the way in from the Valley to get her teenage daughter to the beach she loved the best, for this young Valley Girl had yet to attain her own driver’s license and was therefore at the mercy of her more-than-patient and loving Mom. Another Mother had to merely stroll outside onto her own balcony to watch from afar her young child playing in this Pacific Ocean paradise, for this Mother and this child lived right on Malibu Beach, in a very pricey beachfront home. Afar was just as far as...

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...

It’s not a matter of either really, is it? Time…goes by…. Circumstances…never change…. Politics, methods, agendas might change…. For most of us, the day, that night, just stays the same…. Where was I? I was securely tucked into a California bed that night, no doubt the window screen fully open, why not, there’s nothing to fear from window screens on August 9, 1969, is there? Yes, the 60s were raging, if you pretended to take notice, Middle America didn’t much…I don’t think…. Knives, guns, sure, in the news, Vietnam, far off…not here, not of any real significance…anyways….. Not to 10050 Cielo Drive anyways…. Not to any of us………..anyways…. Nancy Pitman COULD have been making sand castles on Malibu Beach…if she had chose to do so…. Malibu Barbie, after all, was patterned after Sharon Tate, who could have been her iconic idol, but wasn’t, in the end, Sharon became her enemy, a target she knew nothing about, but fo...

Love. Addiction. Addicted to love. Addicted to one woman, to HER love, ‘til death, in death. That kind of love can actually spend time apart. It can know others, know She is loved by others, made love to by others. Yet It lessons not one iota, staying to its core…White Hot Heat. Jay. Sharon. He had faults, maybe, I mean, tied up with scarves and lightly whipped…? Whoopdeedo…sigh… If it had been a problem, He would have changed…for Her, He would. He didn’t have a chance to change. She didn’t have a chance to need to ask. She would have needed to ask…eventually…Roman would NEVER have changed…not for anyone…not even for Her. Jay would…and She knew it. White…Hot…Heat… POOF! BLAST! KABOOM! Every woman He slept with, He saw and felt Her. At breakfast, He looked to the chair across from Him and saw Her sitting in it, those big, itchy, scratchy 60s curlers in her hair, and She was utterly beautiful, every day She was…as He looked to that chair. Women, star...

If anything about anything about Life can be known to MsBurb, it must be that ALL of us born to this Earth have a reason for being. We, of course, start out not knowing what that reason is, and yet, in our youth, with all its zeal and abounding idealism, we are so sure we’ve figured it all out. But for most of us, what we thought was our purpose in Life turns out to be anything but. And the difference between what it really is and what we thought it was is only made known to us moments before …or sometimes, sadly, moments after … ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sharon Tate thought she knew what her future held on August 8, 1969. Motherhood. Marriage. Mounting fame. Anything but Murder. Yet it turned out that it was her Death that was truly the reason for her Life, her ending fuelling hope in all of us who remain. That her Life, as it was intended, had been fulfilled, even if not to her, or our, expectations. It was the Ending and not the continuatio...

"We-he-he-he-ll the little things you say and do, Make me want to be with yoo-hoo-hoo, Rave on, it's a crazy feelin', And I know it's got me reelin', When you say, I love you, Rave on." Buddy Holly Rave On It seems that there can be a lot said about the Tate-Labianca murders,...be it here or elsewhere on the Web. The point of interest remains in the struggling to comprehend the murders, the murderers and the victims. It's a like a freakin' instance of time in which we casual psychopaths try and wrap our heads around something that doesn't make sense. The moment gets frozen. We don't know why we do it,...or, at least, I don't. And I make no excuses for it. There is just somethin' about a car wreck that makes us look. We all have different perspectives...but the genesis of the interest is the same. I ain't gonna try and freakin' over-analyze it. I'm just not deep enough....plus, I just ain't ...

Tate living room prior to August 9, 1969 In this post, I will examine the scene as best I can to give a clearer picture of what really went on at 10050 Cielo Drive. Charlie gave Tex explicit instructions, as Tex reiterated in his 1978 book, "Will You Die For Me?" "Just before he [Manson] went off to get the women, he handed me the .22 Buntline pistol he'd been given by old Randy Starr, but he said to use knives whenever possible, not the gun." But Tex used seven of the nine bullets in the Buntline — four on Steve, two on Voytek, and one on Jay. One wonders why Tex found the need to shoot the frightened Steve Parent four times at close range unless he feared the kid would gun the Rambler right through the gate and seek help. And Tex wanted to make darn sure he couldn't. Or, because he was nervous, panicky, and high on speed, his actions were out of control. We will never know. One wonders why Tex shot Voytek only twice when the poor man did fight and tried to...

Have you ever felt like you appeared on this Earth a few minutes after the movie about your Life began?  That the phrase "late bloomer" applies to almost every aspect of your being? Or that you do things or meet people a wee bit too late for the happiness you think you deserve? Well, my fellow Mansonites , this is definitely becoming the story of my life; yet, quite possibly, the opposite was true for the lives of The Manson Family victims.... Let's examine my life first, the spoiled brat that I am always likes to be first up even when I arrive late... It has been brought to my attention, several times of late, that good, pure, fantastic people are right around the corner of my life but when I finally saunter over to that corner, those good, pure, fantastic people are otherwise engaged.  And this scenario has played out too many times to be any longer amusing. Yep, I used the word "saunter" because I think that's how I approach life...

Well, I finally pried the $6 out of my wallet and rented the HBO documentary, "Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired". It took some doing on my part. I hummed and hawed and remembered all the posters on different Manson NGs saying how ridiculous this video was and how contrived the release date was and how one-sided the case was, against this evil pedophile wanted fugitive. I thought, do I need to watch his version? Will it taint me forever, being such a fan of his 60s European films, especially "Repulsion" with Catherine Deneuve? Did I want to know stuff about this guy that would transform him in my eyes from a genius film director and Manson victim, to a lewd and lascivious prowler of unsuspecting young girls? Well, my kitty curiosity got the better of me and I plunked the DVD into my Sony Surround System, sat back on my bed scattered with photos and files from those times, the court transcript of that rape hearing clutched tightly in my hands and...