The thread about Woodstock reminded me of this because, while we had considered hitchhiking to Woodstock to see if we could find a way in, despite having no tickets, two friends and I decided to hitchhike to California instead. You might think that three people hitchhiking together would have trouble getting rides but, while it did limit the possibilities, it wasn't much of a problem. We arrived in Pasadena, where one of my friends knew someone. Actually, he was more of a friend of my other friend, who I knew much better, but I had never met the guy whose door we arrived at in Pasadena. But that was okay, apparently. He let us stay. He was living in a small house not far from Memorial Park and the courthouse. I think it was on East Walnut Street, or maybe that was just a larger street that I used as a reference. When I look at a map, I can see that the whole area looks to be commercial now. Maybe it wasn't then, or perhaps it wasn't East Walnut Street. I don't remember, but I know we walked to Memorial Park. That was 1969, and I've slept a few times since then. Anyhow, this guy had never met two of us, and I don't think the other guy that I came with knew him very well, as it seemed. Yet, he left us alone in his house repeatedly while we were there, which wouldn't seem so strange except that he was a drug dealer. Without exaggeration, he had a suitcase of hashish in a closet that someone was going to pick up because he told us that someone was coming by for it one day, while he was out. The guy didn't show. I don't know how good the hashish was because I had tried that stuff once, and hated it. That was my experience with most drugs in the 1960s; tried them once and didn't like them. I particularly didn't like anything that made me feel tired, confused, or stupid. I don't know how much pot he had in the house but when he finished one bag, there was always another, and he'd tell us to help ourselves to it. He was gone a lot. At least he wasn't the kind of drug dealer who had people coming to his house all the time. One day, the owner of the house was gone, and my friends and I decided to walk to the park. We were gone for a few hours. As we were walking back up to the house, we found about a dozen police cars in front. What to do? For one thing, everything we had brought with us (which wasn't much) was inside, and my wallet and identification was in the house. Clearly, I couldn't walk up to the door and tell them that I had come for my wallet. A bigger problem was that this guy might think that we were responsible for the visit from the police. We hitchhiked back to Michigan, and the Pasadena police department mailed my wallet to me, with no questions or explanations.
Oh Lordy.... If y'all really, really want to know I will talk. Just remember my past is just that...Past.
1973-74ish....worked for a very well known financial establishment. I had several duties and one of them was a Runner. I would deliver valuable financial documents to other offices. For safety sake I best leave some of this out... . Anyway I would deliver drugs in varoius forms to certain clients. Not directly to the building but to another location...or a certain car would drive by for pick up. Not sure why I would do this other than I could and made head way with certain people I knew. Not something one wants to be remembered by but I did many stupid things back then. I am surprised I have lived to even tell this .
I tried a lot of different drugs during the 60s, with the exception of anything requiring a needle, but generally tried something only once. The only exception was LSD, which I did several times over a period of a couple of years, quitting when they started mixing other crap in with it. In its better form, LSD was not a party drug. I tried marijuana a few times but could never see the point of it. Either it was absolute junk or it just made me feel stupid and tired, and I hated the taste.
@Ken Anderson , I only did the weed and pills. The pill form for weight mainly. But a couple black mollys almost did me one day. I was thru with them after that. Then as told once before, on Jan. 6th 1986 a friend of mine, we smoked some weird weed that - I for one told Jesus..please save me from this and I will never smoke this again! And I have not.