My Riotous May '73 Memorial Day Weekend At The Kern River
Sheriff's Deputies From 5 Counties Dispatched To Quell The Violence


My Memorial Day Weekend Arrival At The Kern River May 25, 1973
With My Girlfriend Janet, Her Friend Rene And Three Other Girls I Know From School

I had been living at the place on Gareloch in Azusa for about three and half months since mid-February 1973, when somehow or other I was invited to spend the Memorial Day Weekend May 25 - 28, 1973 at the Kern River wilderness recreational area about 140 miles north of Los Angeles as the crow flies. -- I was invited as I was having coffee at the house across the street from where I lived on Gareloch Avenue in Azusa, there with Debbie, the common law wife of a guy named R.H., one the party crasher 'patsies' who 'took the wrap' for the 'Spud' Helberg's murder in July 1971 and had served about a year and a half for the crime he didn't actually commit, although he was there when 'Spud' was hit in the head with a sword. -- I go into detail over this in Part 3 Sub Part 3 of "1979" / 1979westbrook.com.

It was there as I was sipping coffee with neighbor Debbie when her siister and one of the two Walsack sisters came to visit and in the course of conversation told us of their Memorial holiday plans at the Kern River and invited me to come along with them and meet up with some friends of theirs who were also going to up there to get high and party all weekend.

I believe that it must have been sometime in 1969 that I had both the Walsack sisters over to spend the night there in the small unattached wood frame building I turned into my bedroom at my mom's house there at 17003 E. Tudor St. in Covina, as I had started to have girls over there just about every chance I got.

The Walsack sisters were pill heads like myself at that time, and the thought of making out with both sisters intrigued me at the time being only 16 years old and all and we were smoking 'pot' and taking 'Reds' ( Seconal in red capsules ) and fooling around a bit, but two girls made too much noise and my mom came out and so they had to go. -- From then on it was only one girl at a time, which went on in the months them to come, before I moved out just after the Sylmar Earthquake in February 1971.

As things turned I asked my new girlfriend from Glendora, Janet to join me on my Kern River holiday outing and she in turn invited Rene, the girl who I met by a fluke coincidence whilst visiting some friends from high school who also lived in the same apartments as Rene did, whereby I met Rene one night and she in turn introduced me to Janet.

I became somewhat wary of Janet when who brought over a couple of guys with her to the place I was staying in on N. Gareloch Ave, in Azusa as they looked like young FBI agents and or Narcs to me.

Nothing ever came of it and so that was that and besides I already had Getty, an FBI 'mole' installed in my life only a couple of weeks after my friend 'Spud' Helberg's murder in July 1971. -- This was at the same time that Greg Downard was reintroduced into my life, as Greg was with me when I met him.

In Part 3 Sub Part 3 of "1979" / 1979westbrook.com I describe how Getty another FBI informant was inserted into my life at about the same time Greg my old freind from middle school and high school, was re-introduced into my life only weeks after 'Spud's murder in mid July 1971 and who was to be also later 'outed' as an FBI informant as the result of the firey and bloody events at the 'Callahan Days' music festival in Northern California during the weekend of July 25-26, 1975. -- These events are covered in Part 4 Sub Part 7 of "1979" / 1979westbrook.com.

My situatiion being thus, I decided to play the role of Janet's boyfriend although I always suspected that she was yet another 'plant' who primary job wasn't to 'bust' me for drugs, but rather keep tabs on me because of my anti-war and other political affiliations I had.
Besides all that she was very pretty and I was looking forward to fucking her soon, very soon, like the then upcoming Memorial Holiday weekend in May 1973.

Google Street View from somtime arround 2009 incorrectly identified the town as Vincent, California. This is actually N. Gareloch in Azusa, California or least it's mailing address is as this is apparently located in an unincorporated portion of Los Angeles County accordin the maps I've seen as was the house I grew up in about a mile away therewith a Covina mailing address.

When I pulled these images off the web I was astonished to see just how much the place where I lived at 5245 N. Gareloch in 1973, looked almost precisely the same as it did in the street photo 2009 some 36 years later. -- This also applies to the house across the street where R.H. who was one of the 'fall guys' 'Spud' Helberg's murder in July '71 lived and his girl Patty lived with their baby boy in 1973. -- These two houses have undergone extensive remodeling since 2009 and are presently unrecognizable from the way they appeared in from 1973 through 2009.

Perhaps I should also note that it was during this very time in May of 1973 that I was actually living right across the street from one the guys convicted of a lesser degree manslaughter charge for 'Spud' Helberg's death in July 1971, as he was one of the four or five or so party crashers at the Helberg house across from Covina park on July 9th party crashers, and who later returned to participate the sword to the head attack on 'Spud' on minutes after I left on the morning of July 10th which I contend was later falsely attributed as the cause of 'Spud' Helberg's death. -- I'll refer to him as R.H. and although he was tried and convicted for 'Spud' Helberg's death, he was one of the teenaged minors convicted of 'Spud' Helberg's murder. He 'copped' toa plea deal for a lessor degree of manslaughter as a juvenile of 17 in 1971 and served about 18 months.

Was it really almost by pure chance that into the house across the street from one of 'Spud's supposed killers ? Was I manipulated there ? I really can't say without looking at the massive dossiers compiled on by the FBI, CIA, DIA and other intel orgs covering that time period of my life. -- In Part 3 Sub Part 3 of "1979" /1979westbrook.com, I describe in lengthy detail the actual circumstances and events leading up to 'Spud' Helberg's murder in July 1971.




I attribute 'Spud' Helberg's July 1971 interrogation-murder to elements of the FBI, CIA and other fascist elements therein the U.S. National Security State structure. The motive being that I had somehow related some rather sensitive political information to 'Spud' relating to some individuals who I met and was befriended as an 18 year inmate-trustee at L.A. County's Biscailuz Center minimum security prison during my three-week stay there. -- In Part 3 Sub Part 2 of "1979" /1979westbrook.com, I describe the rather unusual and revelatory circumstances and events that took place during my stay at Biscailuz Center in March and April 1971.

Weirder still was the 'Rare Speech' given by then CIA Director Richard Helms, given the very day after my release from Biscailuz Center on April 13th, thereto the American press and media on April 14, 1971.

 

When I found out that R.H. lived right across the street from the place I was visiting at one night, I decided to re-new my acquaintance with him by insinuating way into house there as a paying tennant. I had went to elementary school with R.H. in the early to mid 1960's and partied with him and sister a bit as well during my senior year in high school in the fall of 1970.

After I moved into the place on Gareloch Avenue in mid-February 1973, R.H. invited me over to do some drugs from time to time mostly barbituates and a little speed from time to time. -- During one of our little drug soirees as neighbors on Gareloch Avenue in Azusa in the Spring of 1973, I would talk to R.H. about his role therein the seige on 'Spud' Helberg's upstairs bedroom at the house on Badillo across from Covina Park on July 9, 1971, during which time 'Spud', his girl Niki and I had sucessfully barricaded the door barring R.H, and his fellow party crasher entry.

We were like two veteran soldiers on different sides in the same skirmish on a battlefield in some respects, telling each other what it was like on the other side of the barricade that 'Spud', Niki and I had assembled to prevent R.H. and the rest of the party crashers from breaking in.

I was however much more circumspect when asked R.H. about his role in the pre-dawn sneak attack along with the other returning party crashers, that took place only minutes after I left 'Spud' and Niki at the place across from Covina Park on July 10th 1971.

R.H. knew that I didn't actually blame him for 'Spud's murder although I kept my suspicions to myself about all this back in 1973 regarding the actual factual circumstances and events involved 'Spud' Helberg's July '71 murder.

I had to be carefull what I said to R.H. when we were doing drugs as I didn't want to get him murdered as well, whereas I believed that 'Spud' Helberg was actually murdered over the things that I had told him, as 'Spud', Niki and I partied from about 8:00 PM on July 9th through about 3:00 AM on Saturday July 11th 1971.

The actual circumstances, facts and continuously revised circumstances, facts and police cover-ups involved in 'Spud's death on July 19, 1971 forced me to conclude that 'Spud' Helberg was actually, drugged, interroagated and murdered after he was readmitted to Covina Intercommunity Hospital, ostensibly to treat the head wound he received only minutes after I left him and his Girl Niki at the house on Badillo across from Covina Park in the wee hours of July 10th 1971.

To finance my holiday weekend, I bought a quantity of about 400 hundred or possibly more capsules called 'Pink Ladies'. -- 'Pink Ladies' were a peculiar kind barbituate with slightly more hypnotic like effect than the other barbiturartes that were prevelent through L.A. and the 'O.C.' in the late 1960's and early 1970's and of which I became heavily addicted to by early 1971. -- I intended to make a little money selling some of these to holiday revellers at the Kern River campgrounds where we were going, as the girls who invited me were going to meet some of their pill popping freinds there at the Kern River.

It was the start of the Watergate Hearings that week, only the week before the 1973 Memorial Day weekend on that Friday May 25th when the two Walsack sisters drove over with Patty to pick me up in the '60 Dodge four door sedan owned by the younger Walsack sister and from there we drove over to pick up Rene and my Janet my then girlfreind.

The car was loaded with our five sleeping bags, a few camping items and some canned food. -- I knew that Patty and the Walsack sisters had brought along their own respsective personal 'stashes' of pills and possibly some other drugs as well, but I couldn't say as to what Janet and her freind Rene had brought along, although I vaguely recall that they may have brought along some 'meth' tabs and possibly some other drugs as well. -- I didn't care to ask as I had my own drugs.

My 'stash' consisted of an ounce of what was some pretty good 'weed' for that time period, along with the hundreds of 'Pink Lady' barbiturates I bought for the Memorial Day Weekend holiday. -- There was a case of 'Coors' beer in the trunk some of which was in an ice cooler.

The younger Walsack sister, the owner of the Dodge drove at the start of the trip as I recall and we made the freeway out of town at sometime around 9:00 AM, the 210 to the Interstate 5 and we all made sure not to dip into our respective 'stashs' of drugs, and we left the beer and wine in the trunk, although I rolled a couple of 'joints' that we smoked to help give the trip a bit of holiday cheer. We all smoked cigarettes as well as we drove on down the holiday road.

I seem to recall that we may have made a stop on the way up, to get a liitle gas and use the bathrooms, which also seemd to square with my recollection that we arrived at the campground where we intended to stay at, at sometime around 12 noon.

Upon our arrival I was very impressed as to just how beautifull the campsite was, there along the bank of the Kern River gently flowing, and the sunlightdirectly above filtering kight through the leaves of the trees along the river bank as the reeds, willows and water plants gently swayed in the slight warm breeze that ran along the river. - I had never seen anything quite like it and I was starting to decompress from all stress I had been under for a good many months.

There were also giant boulders in and around the campground and which led into the woods full of various other kinds of trees, bushes and plants, as well as some firs and other evergreens. -- The place looked a lot more lush than than the wilderness areas around L.A. and Southern California that I had seen up to that time in my life at the age of 20.

We went to place where there were the parks picnic tables and a fixed iron barbecue and it was then abd there that I was causually introduced to some the friend's of Patty and the Walsack sisters, and then I grabbed a couple of 'Coors' beers and rolled a couple of 'joints' as Janet sat next me and her friend Rene nest to her. Patty and the Walsack sisters started in on some wine to help wash down their pills.

I think that I may have given Janet and Rene some of my 'Pink Ladies' and I think that they were drinking a little wine as well, as they shared the 'joints' I had passed around. As for myself I hadn't taken any 'Pinks Ladies' in a couple of days, as I had been working on my Anglia panel truck and busy, talking to Janet and Rene about going along with the other girls and myself to the Kern River, contacting my connection to scoresome 'Pink Ladies' to take along for the holiday weekend.

Most importantly up to that point in time I hadn't yet had sex with Janet and I was looking forward to fucking her that holiday weekend and I didn't want to loose my edge. -- I wasn't planning on taking any 'Pink Ladies' until the next day, the day after the night I had sex with Janet as previous experience had taught me that like with alcohol, hypno-barbiturates like 'Reds', 'Yellow Jackets' and even 'Pink Ladies', one can easily get 'too stoned to fuck'.

I was still kind of wary of Janet, as I was of most all girls, what my then recent experiences with girls over the last two years since 'Spud' Helberg's murder in July '71. -- This and plus the fact that a couple of Janet's friends looked like junior 'G-Men' the way they went about checking out the place on Gareloch in Azusa I was then staying at, some weeks before when Janet brought them over along with her during a visit.

No Sir, I was content to smoke some 'weed' and drink a few beers and just take it all in that first few hours after our arrival there. I decided that I would feel out the crowd of 20 or people that Patty and the Walsack sisters had arranged to meet up with there. With the exception of perhaps two or three of this little party crowd of happy camper, 'hop heads' who we had went there to meet, I didn't know or recognize the rest of them.

If things looked copacetic, I decided I would conduct some sales of 'Pink Ladies' later on that same afternoon, probably at sometime around dusk and I could use Patty and the Walsack sisters to as third party conduits to conduct my drug sales to members of the crowd. After all these girls knew them as friends and I didn't and it was not uncommon for friends to obtain drugs for friends in those days to minimize any possible risk.

I was also thinking about fucking Janet later that night, as I already passed up a couple of opportunities already. In May of 1973, Janet was a beautiful and rather slender and petite 17 year-old girl with straight blond hair and pretty blue eyes. She was demure and had an aire of feminine mystique about her that I had to like and admire. She was kind of like a 'Rich Bitch' who wasn't rich and she lived in a working class area of the upscale town of Glendora, California, next to Grand Avenue, just north of the 210 Freeway.

The scenery there at this Kern River campground was rather relaxing and tranquil, and it was a kind of a subtle natural high just being there. There were a few fly fishermen nearby there along the riverbank, as the surface of river's gentle current shimmered in the sunlight, that also filtered it's way down through through the leaves of the trees and creating various shades of green like one might see in beautiful painting.

There were also other holiday campers and their friends and families, nearby but not too close and I glanced over to see them relaxing at their respective spots in and around the campground and long the rocks near the riverbank, watching their kids of various ages, playing and running around. I was also rather pleased by the smell of the trees and other natural fragrances wafting through the air and mixing in with the 'pot' smoke and tobacco where we were all partying.

Best of all, the other campers nearby at the Kern River campground seemed to all be preoccupied with each other and enjoying a quiet holiday weekend with family and friend, and so they didn't appear to pay much, if any attention at all to the group of twenty five or so partiers, of which I myself and the five girls I came there with, were all a part of as we all smoked cigarettes and or 'weed', whilst we talked, joked and politely partied with one and other.

Although it was only the noon hour on that holiday weekend Friday, practically everyone in our party were drinking beers or wine, and think I saw a bottle of tequila and one of vodka as well. I'd say that most our group of partiers and 'stoners' were under the legal drinking age of 21, though Patty and the older Walsack sister who comprised our party of weekend party of six were both 21 as I recall. I was only 20 at that time. -- Our campground neighbors were very polite and seemed to mind there own business.

 



Chatting With Girlfriend And The 4 Other Girls I Came To Kern River With Over 'Pot' And Beer
-- The Pictureque And Mellow Scene For The 1st Hour -- The Group Of 20 Or So Young People That 3 Of The Girls In Our Holiday Weekend Were Acquainted With

Things Suddenly Turn Ugly As One Of Guys From This Group Starts Beating On His Taller Younger Brother Into A Bloody Pulp -- Shocked & Stunned Into Silence, Neither I, The 5 Girls Or The Group We
Met There Says Anything Or Tries To Break It Up, Like We Were All Watching TV

# Your location at a picnic table with the Janet, Rene and the other girls who mingled about. It was about 25 to 30 feet from the iron barbecue and we sat on the side of the picnic table facing it, possibly due southwwest judging by the path of the sun as I recall.

# Paragraph describing scene how the scene transformed from the two brothers talking and joking -- Describe them one the older brother in his early 20's dark brown not too short '70's styled who only 5' - 6" or so average to slight build -- The younger brother 17 or so, about 6' - 2" tall, straight light brown hair not too short '70's styled, slender but with a well built chest.

# How they then moved up to the campground's iron outdooor grill and after a few words the smaller older brother, possibly a half-brother just started slugging the younger taller brother in the face.

# The incredibly bizarre manner in which the guy stood there taking blow after blow to his face without putting up any resistance that gave me the creeps.

# Creepier still the way the brothers friends and acquaintances in their party of 20 so teens and others in their early 20's in the crowd that Patty and the Walsack sisters were meeting up with all sat there watching the one sided battery on the tall dumbfuck teenager who stood there obligingly whilst the shorter brother used practically all of his reach in order to effectively punch the teen brother's face bloody repeatedly.

# The silent, still reaction of Janet my girl and the other girls I came with.

# I thought that maybe I should try to break it up, but then I figured the friends of these two asshole, 'Punch & Judy' like brothers might start something with me and I didn't want to get into fight over these jerks I didn't even know. Whats more there was the considerable amount of drugs I had brought with me and a fight with one or more of them might draw the local police.

# Then there was the fact that if the friend's of these two brothers didn't want to break up this sadistically sad-ass one sided battery, why the fuck should I jump in and possibly get jumped by a half a dozen or more of their friends in the crowd who let the beating go on. -- Although I recognized a face or two in the crowd or the 20 or so holiday partiers the girls I drove up there went up there to meet, I really didn't have any friends there at all.

A Fisherman Nearby Drops His Fly Rod And Races Over To Beat The Attacker -- This Seems Like An Answer To My Prayers -- Unexpectedly Surprised & Delighted I Sat There, Drinking My Cold Beer, 'Hitting' A 'Joint' & Enjoying The Show -- Once Again The Group Of 20 We Met There Does Nothing -- The Girls Came To The Kern River With Now Suddenly Appear Indignant

# I noticed the big, buff Fisherman at the riverbank in waders who kept looking over at the brothers during the one sided battery

# He was about 6'-3", without a shirt and well built chest. He had dark brown hair, styled semi-long and a moustache and looked to be in his mid-thirties. Presumably blue collar, like a contractor or truck driver.

# I suppose that it was the fisherman's repeated glances over at the older brother's battery of the taller younger brother that perhaps prompted me to hope and pray that he, the fisherman would step in and stop the beating before the teenaged punching bag, suffered brain damage, assuming that the kid had any fucking brains to damage, or maybe possibly died from the beating.

# I was stoney silent as my eyes kept flitting back and forth between the fisherman at the glistening riverbank and the continuous punching of the teen's face that was now starting spurt more and more blood with every blow that the older assailant brother let loose on his face.

# I just happened to have my eye on the fisherman, when in a split second he threw down his fly rod and sprinted over the 50 feet distance to where the bloody battery brother's were at the iron barbecue in less than 5 seconds. This was all the more amazing as the large fisherman was wearing waders.

# He then grabbed the smaller brother who was the assailant and started punching the fucker in his face repeatedly. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life as it was some kind of devine justice had suddenly prevailed from on high. -- I remember looking up at the sky and quietly saying: 'Thankyou Jesus.'

# A spilit second later I my eyes fixed on the fisherman's fist slamming his fist into the face of the sadistic assailant who was battering his brother. It was a glorious site to behold to see the assailant's face suddenly take on a closer resemblance to that of brother's by also becoming a bloody mess as well.

# Self discipline and a sense of wary cautiousness kept me from standing up and cheering, as I could hear Janet and the other stupid bitches that I came up there with, suddenly utter groans of dismay and disapproval at this sudden outbreak of devine justice in the form of the this valiant fisherman who was then busy slugging the face of this sadistic attacker who now had the tables turned on him, as spurts of blood left his face with every blow.

This Fisherman Working Over The Psyco Assailant Brother At The Kern River On Memorial Day Weekend '73 Bring To Mind The July 1972 Motorcycle Crash I Witnessed Near My Family's Home In Covina -- The Pick Up Truck Driver Who Caused My Friend's 'Chopper' To Crash -- Their Harley Partner Turns 'Round To Mete Out 'Street Justice' To The Pick Up Driver



# This reminded me of the incident that took place in front of my mother's house in Covina then only ten months before in July 1972. This was when I had just pulled off what was then in 1972, the Lark Ellen off ramp* from the San Bernadino / I-10 Freeway in West Covina driving north in my Porsche from West Covina towards my mom's place at the corner of Lark Ellen Ave. and Tudor St. in Covina.** when a Harley Hog and Triumph 750 chopper sped past me down the road.

(* The Lark Ellen on ramps and off ramps there when the I-10 / San Bernadino opened in 1957. It has long since been removed. ** The Tudor St. Address with the Covina mailing address is technically located in an unincorporated portion of Los Angeles County.)

I admired the motorcyles as they passed me and I never gave them another thought until I saw a guy in Chevy pick up with camper suddenly cut in front of the
lime green Triumph chopper and then slam on it's brakes on Lark Ellen, about a 100 feet or so south of my mom's house at the corner of Tudor St. and Lark Ellen causing the Triumph to spill on the asphault as it was going about 45 miles per hour.

Having slammed on my brakes, I pulled over to the shoulder of Lark Ellen and ran up to see if I could help the two guys on the Triumph choper who were raked along the highway as the result of the crash. The driver of the motercycle was still pinned under the chopper, but his passenger and I quickly lifted the bike off his leg and he receieved only minor injuries from the spill as did his passenger.

Weirder still I recognized the passenger on the chopper as I briefly attended school with him in November and December 1970 there at Northview High.
His name was Alan and he was one the people who I made friends with there and made me member their noon lunchtime smoking circle out in the atheletic field there, were we all smoked cigarettes, exchanged local news and sometimes smoked a couple of 'joints'. -- We were both mutually surprised and elated at this bizarre chance encounter meeting near my mom's house in Covina.

The driver of the chopper was Alan's older brother who owned it, and after Alan introduced me to him, the three of us tried to lift the bike up so we could get it out the passing lane and off to the side of Lark Ellen, when their friend on the Harley Hog, a guy with long hair and a beard who was driving alongside them at the timeof the crash and drove on unawares, had made a u-turn to drive back to the crashsite.

After making sure that Alan and his brother were all right, the biker on the Harley Hog then went over to the driver of the pick-up with the camper shell who caused the crash, verbally chastised him and then drug that sorry son of bitch out the pick up cab over the yells and protest of his wife and cries of their pre-teen boy. Once outside the biker gave the pick up driver who caused the motorcycle crash, and gave what I thought was a rather nice beating to pick up driver, who the biker then left, so that he could scramble back to his pick up truck, presumably to lock himself inside with the wife and kid.

I was arrested about a week later by the same L.A. Sheriffs Deputy who later showed up at the motorcycle crash scene and who told me to leave, but who I ignored after the CHP showed up and wanted a statement from me regarding the intentional crash caused by the pick up truck driver. -- Alan, his brother and I all denied any knowledge of another biker ever being present or that we ever saw the driver of the pick up being beaten to both the Sheriffs and the CHP. These events are covered in greater detail in Part 3 Sub Part 4 of "1979" / 1979westbrook.com

Dog Like Growls And Murmers Emerge From The Group Of 20 Crowd -- Girlfriend Janet
And The 4 Girls I Came With Suddenly Whine About The Fisherman's Intervention To Stop The Smaller 'Psycho' Brother From Beating His Apparently Masochistic & Bloodied Younger Brother To Death

# I could barely contain my glee and delight as I watched the fisherman skillfully work on the assailant's bloody face with his large fist. I suppose that this was because it was so very much like the incident near my mom's place in Covina 10 months before when the guy in the pick up truck intentionally caused the 'chopper' motorcycle crash in which a freind of mine and his brother could have been seriosuly injured or possibly even killed and their friend on the Harley 'Hog' who came back to beat the shit out of the driver of the pick up truck who caused the crash in July 1972.

# As Fisherman went on slugging the face of the assailant I noticed that he didn't seem to put up any resistance, which seemed so rather bizarre to me at the time, whereas it was as though as if the assailant had now suddenly assumed the role of his younger, taller brother, the teenaged punching bag who the assailant had been so busy beating to a bloody pulp only a minute or so before.

# I could hear murmers from the 20 or so teens and young people who were part of the crowd that the 'Punch & Judy' brothers were part of. Weirder still I somehow sense that Janet my girlfriend, as well as the other girls that I came there to the Kern River with were somehow displeased, if not outight disturbed at this outcome of events in which the sadistic assailant brother who was beating his own brother bloody and senseless, had now become the human punching bag for the fisherman who intervened to save his sensless brother from a coma or possibly even death.

# Although I was obviously not privy to the thoughts and wishes of the crowd around me of the girls I was with, I was convinced that I was the only one in this group of holiday revellers who acknowledged the fisherman's just cause to stop this sadistically evil and life threatening beating. The wisdom of this crowd was apparently not to be found here.

# The crowd we met up there, as well as Janet and the girls who I came there with, didn't appear to comprehend, let alone respect the justice of the then ongoing situation there out in woods, albeit a rough and bloody justice. This in which this merciless assailant was now receiving the same kind of beating to his face which only seconds before, he had been giving to own younger brother. -- He was getting more than just a taste of his own medicine, as the fisherman was now administering a whole fucking bottle of medicine to this sadistic bastard, namely the brother beating assailant.

The Bloodied Punching Bag Brother Attacks His Rescuer The Fisherman As Does His Cowardly Assailant Brother -- Emboldened By This Sudden Change The 'Punch & Judy' Show Brother's Group Of 20 Now Rises To Attack The Fisherman -- My Stupid Girlfriend Janet & The 4 Other Dumb Bitches The I Arrived There With Also Charge The Fisherman -- Screams, Shouts And
The Fisherman's Friends To His Rescue -- I Back Off From All This Stupid Anarchy

# As the fisherman went on working over the face of the assailant brother, the on going situation there at our location in this Kern River campground was pretty much static and thus remained so for the first couple minutes or so.

# The members of the crowd we met up there and the girls the five girls that I drove there with, all seemed transfixed in shock and fear, like they were too stunned to move as the tables were now suddenly turned on the sadistic assailant, who now in only a matter of seconds had became had gone from attacker to bloody human punching bag. At least this was the impression that I got from the motionless crowd as well as the girls there sitting next to me who did the same.

As for me, I was apparently in the minority of one and I was fucking delighted to watch this graphic display of urban like 'street justice' there in of all places a wooded campsite many miles from any city or town. The Police Science classes I took two years before in '71 were never like this, although I enjoyed them very much as well. Well most all of the time anyway.

# Apart from a few growls and murmers from the surrounding crowd, as well those from girlfriend Janet and the girls I came there with, all of us there didn't much do anything but watch. My eyes were starting to well up from joyfull tears and it was all I could do to stay in check and keep myself from jumping up and down and cheering for the fisherman. I wanted to buy the fisherman a case of beer when the ruckus died down after this incident and we could all go on with our Memorial holiday pursuits as before.

One of these pursuits was my looking forward to finally sleeping with that slender and beautiful 17 year-old gir,l Janet my girlfriend or so it would seem. According to some of my friends at that time in May of 1973, I had already passed up under couple of opportunities to sleep with Janet in the last few weeks leading up to our Memorial Day Weekend at the Kern River.

# The way things were going with the fisherman busy at work, bloodying up the face of the sadistically cruel brother beater and the apparently timid 'group think' like reaction to the beating, I figured that the fisherman would soon be through with the brother beating assailant and then leave for his campsite to perhaps give his arms a rest, before he returned to the scenic riverbank to continue fly fishing.

I then also surmised that as the friends and acquaintances of the assailant brother had not yet 'stepped up to the plate' for one of their own as the beating went on, I assumed that it was also unlikely that they would dare to approach the fisherman thereat his own campground nd challenge him after the fisherman was done beating their friend, the assailant to a bloody pulp.

Things just might well have actually followed this projected scenario had not something unbelievably strange and unexpected taken place only seconds later.

The younger, taller and bloodier brother who was the assailant brother's human punching bag, was somehow still standing were he was when the fisherman came over to his rescue by beating up the assailant. Although the blood was still running down his face from several wounds and lacerations, and he still seemed dazed and dizzy, the big dumb teenaged boob now suddenly became a spectator along with the rest of us there at the campsite watching the fisherman's beat down on the older brother assailant.

This went on for some seconds as the tall teenaged battery victim seemed to regain what little if any wits that he may have had about him and suddenly did something that was totally unexpected by me and presumbly most everyone else there at the campsite who were all watching this bizarre spectacle that was about to get even weirder still.

All of the sudden this tall, bloodied, dumb fuck of a teenaged punching bag, started to attack his rescuer, the fisherman. -- I couldn't have been more stunned had I been struck by lightning. -- I couldn't believe that this was the same well tall built teen who only a couple of minutes before passively stood there whilst his older brother who was at least a half a foot or more shorter with a barely average build, beat the tall teen's face so bloody that one could hardly make out facial features.

The fisherman appeared to be even more astonished than I was, as he then gave the now bloodied assailant a shove in order to fend off the blows that his brother, punching bag boy was now throwing at his rescuer the fly fisherman. This in defense of his psycho brother attacker who had beat him so severely only a couple of minutes before.


What's more this schitzoid like betrayal by punching bag boy there of his rescuer seemed to completely change the psychological dynamics of the whole situation, whereas now it gave the assailant brother the opportunity or simply the encouragment to put up a defense against the fisherman, albeit a rather pathetic one at that, thus encouraging his friends and acquaintances in the crowd to shake off their collective fear and apathy and join there in the defense of the assailant.

And what with the odds being 20 to 1, this collective crew of cowards now felt that they had the numbers to overwhelm the fisherman.

And now as if I wasn't surprised enough Janet my girlfriend and the four other girls from Azusa and Glendora who I drove up there with all got up from the picnic table where we were all sitting next to me -- suddenly got up and charged towards the fisherman as well.

Some of the fisherman's freinds must have been watching the situation close at hand and others of his must have heard the fisherman's calls for help, whereas it was only a matter of seconds before they came to his aid thus creating a bar room like brawl with male and female combatants going at each other with more of them still to come.

I would argue that had it not been for the fact that the brother victim, who turned on his rescuer the fisherman in order to rescue his brother assailant from the beating he deserved, then the fisherman would have left the assailant in a bloody state and most likely that would have been the end of it, as the assailant's friends and acquaintances struck me as bunch of cowardly knaves, who got their courage and bravado from beefsteak, beer and drugs. -- These guys wouldn't have dared to go after the fisherman thereat his campsite with his friends and family there all around.

My reasons to stay out of that brawl that my 'girlfriend' Janet and the other four girls that I came with all instigated and later helped turn it into a riot.

First off the whole situation was a confused fucked up mess to begin with. It all started with one stupid sadistic older brother, beating the face of his masochistic younger brother's face to a pulp and I was delighted when the fly fisherman jumped in and start beating the older brother assailant before he very possibly beat his younger brother to death.

When I saw the bloodied dumb fuck younger brother beating victim attack the fisherman who had just rescued him, it made me nauseaous and I wondered how this teenager could be such a treacherously servile, ingrate to do this. -- It was like a swimmer who was drowning at the beach and had just rescued there from a rip current by a life guard and now the swimmer suddenly attacked the life guard who saved his life.

Then there were the 20 or other teens and those in their early twenties in the crowd we met up there who were the friends of these two 'Punch & Judy' like brothers. If they were any kind of friends worth having at all, a few of them would have stepped in to stop the beating.

As the one older brother was well on his way to beating his own younger brother to death the crowd of 20 just sat there and watched like a group of whipped dogs watching one dog tear out another dog's throat.

This group of 20 or so were gutless, soulless opportunist who only decided to jump in and attack the fisherman only after the punching bag teen had so unexpectedly turned on his own rescuer, the fisherman afterwhich the teen punching bag's assailant had joined in on the attack of the fisherman.

When Janet my 'girlfriend' ? and the four other girls ran to attack the fisherman, along with the crowd of 20 plu that we met there, I nearly 'barfed up' my 'Coors' beer. -- I then realized that whole lot of them were just as 'fucked up' as the 'Punch & Judy' brothers at least with regard to this present situation.
Girlfriend Janet and these other four girls were apparerntly not to be trusted and they didn't appear to have sense justice or common decency to the fisherman there the act of saving the teen from potentially deadly beating.

Suddenly I wasn't so hot on the idea of sleeping with Janet that night. For one thing I wouldn't feel safe if one the clowns from the crowd of 20 came up to rape her, if she wouldn't turn on me. -- For these girls, the idea of right and wrong was apparently a 'group think' / 'mob rule' concept. They apparently had no sense of justice, lest they would have shown some lady-like self control rather than instigating this brawl and then jumping into it like some crazy fucking whores.

I don't recall giving Janet or the other girls any drugs, but judging by the way that they all acted, I was convinced that all of them were 'high' when they instigated the brawl and then joined it.

If did decided to jump into the brawl, I would have fought along side the fisherman against the crowd of 20, Janet and the other four girls I came there with. -- The fisherman had fought for a just cause and I admired him for that.

As I watched the brawl start and the crowd and the gilrs converge on the fisherman, I heard the fisherman call for help to friends and reasoned that if I did jump in to help him that I would most certainly be attacked not only the crowd of 20 and Janet and the girls, but the fisherman's freinds as well as they would not know that I had taken the fisherman's side in this matter. -- I surmised that the fisherman and his freinds were area local and that they all had the numbers and apparently the muscle as well, that is if they were anything like the physically buff, well built fisherman. They didn't need any help from my 5'-4" frame weighing out at 110 pounds.

Worst of all the whole situation had degenerated into a virtual state of anarchy and violence, these people were all fighting like packs of wild animals.

I had been thrust into similar situations as this in the last few years since 1970, but these were relatively minor when compared to the much wider scope and intense ferocity of this brawl now turning into on that 'Freaky Friday' on that Memorial Day Weekend of May 25, 1973.

There was also the little matter that I still had another nine-months to go on my formal probation, which ended on my 21st birthday, March 8, 1974 and getting thrown into jail for assault and battery and arrested was a good way to violate the terms of my probation, which meant that I would be sent back to L.A. County Jail to finish out the other five months of the six month suspended sentence I received from Judge Wintrop Johnson at the West Covina Courts.

 


The Vicious Brawl Escalates Into A Riot With Calls On Both Sides For Knives, Guns And Rifles From The Vehicles, Campers And Tents Of The Combatants -- My Scramble A Giant Overlooking The 'Full On' Riot Scene -- My Overtly Animated Pleas To Please Stop Fighting Until I Was Hoarse
-- This All Apparently Ignored And Drowned Out By The Din Of Battle, Screams And Hysteria

As my screamed out pleas to stop fighting had left me hoarse and were being completely ignored by these raging combatants actively engaged attacking one and other, I took a moment for myself and my then present situation as all this riotous violence had now given me a kind of clarity of thought somehow.

I now realized that it was now time to 'take care of number 1'. As the local Kern County cops were sure to arrive there at this camp ground turned riot landscape along the Kern River there at the start of the Memorial Day '73 Holiday Weekend and I made my way over to the girl's '60 Dodge that we drove up there in which was for the moment free of rioters and combatants and grabbed all my stash of about 500 or more barbitutes pills, along with the ounce of 'pot' I had brought along as well and then made a bee-line towards a stand of tall trees amongst some boulders there in relative close proximity to the highway that led into the campground.

My intention was to hide my 'stash' before the cops came to break up the riot and put the 'stash' in place where I could easily retrieve it without any worry of being spotted by the cops when I did so.

Once in this stretch of tall trees mixed in wih giant boulders, I could still hear the roar of the rioters 'having at it' in the background as I wandered about in the woods, though the noise from the 'din of battle' was much less noisey there and I suddenly realized that I could now actualy hear an occassional car or two whizzing by on the highway nearby.

This was fucking beautiful, it was music to my ears and so I walked a bit further until I had clear line of sight, or rather partially obstructed view of the highway filtered through the rocky landscape of tall trees and giant boulders.

Having surmised that the campground would most likely be closed after the police and Forest Service arrived there at the campground riot scene I looked for place in there in this particular portion rocky landscape of tall trees and giant boulders that had easily recognizable features there a place in the rocks and boulders where I could hide my 'stash'. Having done so I did just that.

I also made sure that my 'stash' of 'pot' and pills was not too far from the highway so that I could simply drive there, pull off the road and quickly retrieve my 'stash' in only a minute or two without attacting any attention from any cops or Rangers that possibly be milling about the closed off campground nearby, or any potentially nosey motorist passing by on the highway.

Having completed my task, I now felt a bit more relaxed and somewhat relieved that I wouldn't be facing a 'drug bust' when I returned to the campground, in the event that the cops should want to quiz me and start tearing apart the car I came in with the five crazy young bitches.

I returned to an area of the campground where I could still see and hear the rioters still going at it, on or near the giant boulder from which I yelled and implored the holiday campers turned rioters to stop what they were doing as I recall.

It was only a few minutes later that the first of what was later to become, various waves of Sheriff's patrol units from 5 different counties, then appeared on the scene at 'Camp 3' campground on the Kern River and I found that my Girlfriend and the 4 other girls I came with having decided to quit their insane bitch like, rioting activities and were now gathered around the '60 Dodge sedan we had driven up there in.

It was at this time that I told all five girls that I had removed my 'stash' from the car and so they did not have to worry about my 'stash' just their own to deal with.

 

////////////////////////// Riot Notz

# After Janet and the other four girls I came to Kern River became lost from my view briefly at first, I decided to duck out of the brawls and fights going on.

I then made my way to giant boulder there at the edge of the picnic area were the riot was and which was centrally located too. This gave me a clear and broad view over the picnic area riot scene.

# My motive for being there on taht rock was it very visiable to all the rioters who I tried to persuade to stop fighting by yelling pleas for them to stop fighting as I jumped up and down and waved my arms until my voice became hoarse. -- I did this for about five mimutes before I could see that it was all useless and stopped.

# I then became fascinated by this savage spectacle which had become a virtual orgy of violence, and started to watch to the riot much in the way that a military observer might watch a battle, coolly and dispassionately objective. -- The Vietnam War was then still raging in May 1973, and perhaps I had a morbid curiousity to see what something warlike like this riot might look like. -- It was only the year before February 1972 that Draft Lottery number ws drawn, that being the number 153 for my birhday March 8, 1953. -- This meant that I would never be drafted, let alone go to Vietnam.

# Describe the full field view of the campground turned riot scene -- Janet and the girls picking up large rocks to heave at the fisherman's friends, others pick up big dead branches to use like clubs. The yells screams and sound of riot and mass hysteria.

# The riot a virtually all white affair, resembling a football game at times, as the two opposing factions take turns charging and attacking each other and then retreating from each other in the ebb and flow of violence and hysteria.

# Women and pre-teens from the fisherman's allies join in the frey as shouts from rioters on both sides call for guns, rifles and knives from their cars, trucks, campers and tents.

# I found it shockingly repulsive as I watched Janet running towards the opposing rioters with a giant rock in both hands to throw at them. Janet and the other girls ran around in a state of semi-hysteria fighting screamimg and kicking other girls and women. They even attacked some of the men as well from time to time.

# The men were mostly in bar room brawl size groups slugging it out with one and other in groups although there were also one on fights as well.

# It was hard for me to focus on just one part of the riot scene as the screams and shouts from different parts of the riot that kept diverting my attention from one part of the picnic area riot scene that was now spreading out into the surrounding campground area

# My faith in people's basic decency was shattered somewhat that day as I watched them revert into savages as they all became swallowed up by the mass hysteria and madness of it all.

# I amazed at how many people were now drawn into this collection of separate brawls and individual fist fights and as I glanced over those portions of picnic area and campground repeatedly I estimated that there must have been anywhere from 60 to possibly 90 or 100 and more people particiapting in this free for all orgy of violence.

# Some of the beach cities in Florida, California and other places used to have similar such riots though on a larger scale when teens and college students would converge on these towns during the holidays.

//////////////////////////

Arrival Of The First Wave Of Sheriffs -- I Tell Janet And The Girls That My 'Stash' Is In The Woods
-- Detention By The Deputies Who 'Grill' The Girls First -- Deputies From Five Counties Quiz Me About My 'Stash' -- I Reapeatedly Say 'What Stash ?' -- One Or More Of The Girls Talked -- Deputies Ignore My Account Of My Efforts To Stop The Riot -- I Tell Them About College Police Science Classes

 

Sheriffs from 5 counties converged on the whole Kern River campsite, like it was wired for sound. I was repeatedly quizzed by the cops from 5 different counties, each in turn about my stash I hid in the woods, not about my extraordinary attempts to stop the violence, not unlike that of a good former police science student or responsible citizen who didn't want to see people murdered and accidentally killed. One or more of the gils had 'ratted me out' to the cops because the cops seemed to know that had drugs stashed in the woods and the only one I told where the five girls I came with, just before the swarm of Sheriffs Deputies arrived.

When the cops came the girls I came with, including my girlfreind suddenly regained their senses and asked me about the 400 'Pink Ladies' and the 'weed' I had stashed in the trunk of the Dodge we drove up there in, whereby I reassured them all that they had nothing to worry about as I already moved my 'stash' to a hiding spot in the woods.

Sure enough when the cops came, they all zero'd in on me, perhaps the only one there who tried to stop the violence. I was quizzed by deputies from the Kern County Sheriffs, Santa Barbara County Sheriffs, Kings County Sheriffs, Inyo County Sheriffs and Tulare County Sheriffs.

All these law enforcement officers started out asking me about the riot there to which I gave them all a brief account as to how it all got started and how then led to a riverside riot. I then told them that I had taken a couple of college police science courses and how I was perhaps the only one there trying to stop the screaming and fighting

After that, these Deputies from five different counties who spoke to me all started 'grilling me' over where I had my 'stash' of drugs, to which I always replied that I didn't have any drugs to 'stash' and that they could all search the car in which I came in if they didn't believe me. Only two of the Deputies from different Sheriff's Departments quizzing me actually had me open the truck of the '60 Dodge in which I drove to the Kern River in.

One or more, or possibly all five of the girls including my girlfriend who came to the Kern River with me had apparently 'ratted' on me to the Sheriff's Deputies from different counties that arrived at the scene of the May '73 riots located at the Kern River which must have taken place on May 25, 1973, as the river riot occured on the Friday before the Memorial Day holiday on May 28th. A couple of the Sheriffs Deputies warned me not to return to the campsite in order to retrieve the 'stash' of drugs that I just hidden nearby just prior the arrival of these cops from five different counties.

After the five separate interroagtions, that I had received from sheriffs deputies from five different counties, those being Kern County, Santa Barbara County, Kings County, Inyo County and Tulare, County, over more than hour after the Kern River campground was ended by the arrival of the deputies who swarmed all over the place there, Janet, Rene, myself and the three other girls in our holiday party of six, were told to leave that campground and not come back.

At the end of each of my five separate interrogations that afternoon, by deputies from these five different counties, I was ordered not to try and comeback to retrieve my drug 'stash' or else I would be arrested. -- My repeated reply to this was always the same and in words to the effect of: 'Don't worry, I don't have any drugs to come back for.'

It was mid-afternoon by the time the 5 county wide sheriffs task force finally ordered the Janet, myself and the four other girls therein our Memorial Day weekend party to leave this Kern River campground. -- I still remember surveying the picnic area and surrounding campground site with my now freshly jaundiced eyes where a riot had taken place only two-hours before, and how relatively silent, still and empty it all seemed there with the overturned trash barrel, litter, debrie, bottles, cans and broken glass along with a variety large rocks, sticks and shreds of bloody fabrics that were once clothes.

There were also utensils, flattened tents and quite an array of camping gear also strewn about and I could see some deputies still talking to small groups of camper locals who were still there. Some of them wore bandages and others had bruises, lacerations and minor cuts. The ambulances had long since gone and there was a peculiar stillness in the air as the Kern River rolled on tranquilly therein the background.

Ironically enough apart from a few bruises, bumps and small cuts, Janet and the four other girls I came to the Kern River with were all relatively unscathed and during our two hour detention, the girls had managed to clean up a bit and touch up their eye make-up and they all looked pretty much no worse for the wear, especially since it was these drug crazed bitches who were the about the first ones that jumped into the frey and help turn it into a riot.

I was the one out of our group of six who drove the '60 Dodge that belonged to one of the girls, there away from the riot torn Kern River campsite and continued well on down the road, as the ladies I was with were all a trifle fatigued from their respective roles in the riot they so actively participated in.

A detached kind of feeling towards the girls and the whole situation seemed to pervade my thoughts as I drove around the area for a bit. -- I made my usual little wise cracks and witticisms as went and the girls all chatted with each other, smoked cigarettes and had presumably managed to hang on their own respective 'drug stashes' as they seemed to be a bit 'high' and the they weren't arrested by the numerous sheriffs deputies who detained us all.

When I had decided that we had been gone a sufficient amount of time, I drove the car back to a shoulder of the road near the campsite and ran into the woods to retrieve my 'stash' of 'pot' and those hundreds of 'Pink Ladies' from what I thought was a rather clever place of concealment, and then put the drugs in the trunk of the car.

I learned this in my Fall '71 Crimimal Law Class from L.A. Sheriffs Det. Lt. Meally when he gave a lecture on the 4th Amenment and cited the landmark case: Maps vs. Ohio. -- This done, I got back behind the wheel and sped down the empty highway towards the site of our new weekend campsite some miles away down the Kern River.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A 'Stony' Memorial Day Weekend With My Girlfriend I Don't Trust And The 4 Other Girls I'm Now Paranoid As Well -- 'Pink Ladies', 'Pot' And Chit Chat With The Girls At The New Campsite -- Wary Of Sleeping With Janet Who I Suspect Is A Police 'Plant' -- Wrong Turn Delay And Exchanging Blows With The Car's Owner

As I drove down the road that followed the Kern River we all looked for places that would be suitable as a new campsite, the girls and I smoked cigarettes, chatted and joked a bit. -- As I had to spend the rest of the weekend with Janet and the girls I decided say as little about the riot as possible as I didn't want to rile up those crazy bitches at me and end up hitch-hiking home alone.

We drove around for the better part of an hour and made a few turnoffs that led nowhere and as I recall it was sometime between 3:30 the 4:00 in the afternoon when all settled on a new place to camp that was maybe 15 miles of so north on the Kern River from the riot torn Camp 3 campground that the sheriffs deputies from five different fucking counties had ordered us all to leave, after they all interrogated me as to the location of my drug 'stash' in the woods.

That campground we had left was heavily wooded on both sides of the Kern River and quite picturesque with large areas of rockfields and large boulders that led away from the river and into the woods. I took note of these wilderness features when I slipped away from the campsite riot then in full swing to find a place in the woods full of rockfields and to hide my 'stash' of 'pot' and 'pills'.

I made some mental notes of some the trees and large boulders were my 'stash' was to use as landmarks when I returned there later after the cops had come and put down the riot and then went away and sure enough. I also noted that I could see part of the road nearby through the boulders. thick brush and tall trees.

It was perfect as this meant that I would have easy access to this place where I hid my drugs from Mountain Highway 99, without ever having to enter the campground. -- My mental notes were correct as, after the series of repetitous interroagtions and I drove around a bit, I had no problem finding the place in the strip of woods, brush and boulders where my 'stash' was and retrieving it.

Our new campsite was about 12 to 15 miles north of the now riot torn Camp 3 campsite we were all ostensibly intended to stay at, which meant that this must have been somewhere around Roads End on the Kern River, which was much less developed and much more wilderness, than it is in 2018, nearly half a century later from the year 1973.

Compared to the campground we had been ordered to leave at Camp 3, it wasn't as heavily forested with oaks and pines, although there were some nearby and there were a number of trees of various sizes that lined the banks of the Kern Rvier.

From our new campsite one could see the low rolling hills going off into the distance, most with brush, some large rocks and trees dotting the slopes and hillside terrain. Our camp was situated just of the highway and and maybe fifty feet from the gently flowing Kern River where there were all some large trees overhanging the water which gave the place an inviting and relaxing atmosphere as the river rolled on at the riverbank there near the bases of the trees.

There were no other people around us and it looked lke the girls and I were the only people around, which after all that bullshit with the riot, that the girls helped to instigate, and the cops and the interrogations that followed, the move there seemed like one hell of a great idea to me at the time as I figured that there wasn't enough wildlife around that spot on the Kern River for these five crazy bitches I was with to instigate a riot.



As soon as we arrived there at the new campsite I smoked a 'joint ' and 'popped' a few pills to help relieve my stress from the events at the campsite riot and the repeated interrogations that I had received from Sheriffs Deputies from five different counties. -- I don't recall that we had any beer left as some of the Deputies must have found the beer in the trunk of the car and confiscated it from the cooler. -- There were no iron barbeques or picinic tables there, although there was a kind of fire ring composed of some large rocks.

There was plenty of dry wood there to build a fire that evening that soon turned to nightfall. I remember Janet sitting next to somewhat affectionately, with her friend Rene sitting close by and Patty and the Walsack sisters on the other side of the campfire. I recall how the campfire flickered and the light seemed to dance on all their faces of the girls, as it no doubt did on mine as well.

The firelight seemed to give off a warm and comforting glow and I'll never forget how calm, peacefull and attractive, these five girls ranging in age from 17 to 20 years-old then looked that night and how horribly different they all looked earlier that day when they went charging and screaming at the fisherman rescuer only some eight hours of so before. -- It was truly as different as night and day.

We all broke out sandwich makings some canned food that we poured into sauce pans and heated up for dinner. All this seemed to bring about some semblance of normalcy and made us all remember that we all teens and young people who were there at the Kern River to camp out and relax and get 'high'. This had a kind cleansing effect in a psychological sense as we all felt something more akin to 'happy campers' as opposed to participants in a riot as the girls were, or in my case an outright refugee from the riot may well have gotten arrested over it had I not kept my wits about me.

We all stared into the fire and shot casual glances at one and other as the girls and I politely chatted and made funny comments from time to time about the events at the campground riot earlier that day. -- I recall how I was feeling slightly 'stoned' from the 'Pink Ladies' and 'weed' and that campfire also appeared to have a mildly tranquilizing effect on us all.

Patty and the Walsack sisters rolled out their sleeping bags and appeared to 'pop' a pill or two before climbing in them and going to sleep and Janet's friend did the same a short time later. Janet and I sat next to each other and she was acting there in her usual jokingly but affectionate way and so we kissed a few times but decided not to take things any further that night went to our respective sleeping bags to turn in for the night.

One the next day of that Memorial Day weekend, which must have been May 26, 1973 Janet, Rene and I hung out there by the tree at the river whilst Patty and the two Walsack sisters made a trip in the car belong to the younger Walsack girl. -- I vaguely recall that they may said something about finding a place to buy some cigarettes and possibly locating some of their friends for the crowd of 20 at the riot the day before, but I was too busy decompressing from the stressful events of the day before.

I spent a good part of the day lounging along a pool that formed along the side of the river under a large tree there with Janet and Rene, and I was thinking how I should have liked to have brought along a sketch pad to do some drawing and maybe a magazine or two or possiby a book.

There I was though silently wondering from time to time just how Janet, Rene and the three other girls all managed to sit by and watch the sadistic older brother beat his younger brother to a pulp without so much as uttering a gasp of alarm or a sigh, although it's possible that one or possibly all of them did and I didn't hear it. -- Nonetheless they didn't or do or say anything to try and stop the beating, and I am sure of that much.

I then marvelled as to how Janet, Rene and the other three girls all jumped up and ran to the aid of the assailant, who was the brother of the beating victim after the fly fisherman had suddenly jumped in, pulled the assailant off his younger brother and started beating on the assailant in this sudden 180 degree turn of events.

I don't recall bringing this point up there with Janet and the girls, but If I did I'm pretty that it would have been in an incidental, anecdotal manner so as to not offend Janet and the other four girls. -- Frankly, I was sickened and disheartened by the circumstances and events of the campground riot, and I just wanted to get a bit 'high' and not dwell on the matter anymore, but it did creep back into my mind from time to time.

There were however those moments as I sat there in silence in with Janet that I couldn't help but thinking about the riot, as I was then a somewhat curious kind of person and I was 'snake fascinated' by the way the whole thing had started and soon broke out into a full fledged riot.

Another curious aspect of the riot was that it all seemed so weird somehow, to see a riot almost entirely composed of white people, as opposed to those nightly network TV news reports in color showing Blacks and Mexicans rioting in L.A. and other cities around the country in the late 1960's then only a few years before.

My girlfriend, Rene and the younger Walsack sister owned the 1960 Dodge sedan hung out near the river there for a while and as I had slept and sobered up quite a bit, it was decided that I drive to a local store to get a case of beer and some wine for the girls. -- The older Walsack sister and Patty who were then about 20 and 21 years-old as I recall were then off somewhere with some of the member of the crowd of 20 who participated in the Kern River campsite riot the day before.

Even though I was only 20 years-old in May 1973, and the age to buy alcohol was 21, I was able to use my California driver's license to buy alcohol whereas the then black and white photos on the licenses for drivers aged 16 to 18 years old were side profiles of the license holders. -- Those drivers who were 18 and older had frontal full face black an white photos on their driver licenses and looked exactly like the licenses for those over 21 years of age.

Thanks to California's educational system, perhaps combined with the fact many people just weren't good at math regardless of this, I was usually able to show my California drivers lincense to the clerks in many liquor stores who couldn't add and subtract correctly and those store clerks who just didn't bother to do the math and simply assumed that I was in fact 21 years-old, the legal age to buy alcohol and sold me the beer, wine and in some cases hard liquor that I went there to buy.

As things turned out I got lost in the Walsack sister's Dodge as I drove around looking for a country store there with girlfriend Janet and her friend Rene who accompanied me there in my Memorial Holiday quest for beer. -- I eventually managed to back track a bit and found the road that led to the Kern River and thus our campsite there after almost two hours.

When I finally drove into our campsite I found the younger Walsack sister, jumping up and down and screaming in a fit of drug and anger induced hysteria, and when I walked up to her to explain how I got lost and tried apologize to her, the little girl let loose and slugged me square in the mouth. I never liked to hit girls even when they struck me and I wasn't about to hit her back as I can take a punch, and it was a girl's punch at that.

I suddenly felt the a slight trickle of blood coming down from my lip, and I decided to make a new rule right then and there. That rule being if a girl hits and I don't bleed, I would just ignore it and maybe shout at her not to try it again. -- But as I wiped from my lip, I suddenly became enraged and gave the little bitch a nice, but somewhat restrained right cross to her face which seem shock her and made her cry a bit.

After I hit the Walsack sister there at our scenic Kern River camp ground on that warm and beautiful Memorial Weekend on May 26, 1973, it suddenly seemed more like dead of winter in Alaska, than spring time in Central California. -- Whats more this was only one day after the riot at the other campground which I first tried stop in vain, and then became a refugee from as the riot progressed and spread like wildfire through the campgrounds.

Patty and the other, older Walsack sister were returned by car by their friends from the riot, to our campsite and we all heated up some food and ate dinner. -- The girls and I all hung out around the campfire afterwards much like the night before, except that the younger Walsack girl who I hit back, pouted and made sure to throw a verbal jab at me whenever she could. -- I showed some charity and tried to get her to break out of her angry, vindictive mood, by being self-effacing a bit and brushing off the various little barbs and attempted insults she threw at me.

Janet and the other girls knew that I had tried to stop the riot the day before and that violence really wasn't my thing although I suppose I let them know that I did approve of the fisherman's intervention to stop the one sided battery that eventually lead to the riot that all five of these girls were all key instigators in. -- I'm sure that Janet and the other girls could tell that I felt bad about hitting the younger Walsack sister back, even though she had hit me first.

Our second night there, Saturday the 26th Janet, Rene, and the other girls and I all made dinner arund the campfire and we sat there looking into the flames that made ripples of light and darkness on our faces as Janet, Rene and I talked a bit there on one side of the fire and Patty and the two Walsack sisters sat on the other side of the fire. Patty and the older Walsack sister talked some, but the younger Walsack sister sat there pouting, as she was still stewing about my hitting her back and occasionally shot glances with hate filled eyes my way from time to time.

When we all rolled out our sleeping bags I suppose I could have zipped mine together with Janet's but I subtley suggested that I was too tired and too stoned which gave Janet opportunity to bow out from sleeping together as well. -- I remember laying down for the night after smoking a 'joint' and noticed how the night sky there at the Kern River seemed jam packed with stars. -- As we didn't have a radio or any other portable device for playing music we could hear the river flowing nearby, and the sounds of an occasional coyote and some night birds that carried quite a distance in the wide open spaces there.

The next day, Sunday May 27th, the girls were wading in the pool that eddied just off the river where our campsite was, and after coffee and cigarettes I smoked some 'pot' and took a few 'Pink Ladies' and joined the girls by the water. I decided to climb up out a branch of large tree that spread out over the water, but I was so 'stoned' that fell off the branch about 20 above the water which was only two feet deep. -- I was lucky that I landed on my back instead of on my head and neck, otherwise I may well have suffered spinal injury and possibly even death.

I stumbled to the bank of the eddy pool and thereto a tree nearby where I laid my head gently in Janet's lap and I then passed out for a couple or hours and got up. --I smoked some cigarettes and although there wasn't much to do there I did seem relaxed and rested somehow and we may have had a deck of playing cards though I not certain on that point.



Our Drive Back To L.A. Sunday May 27th After A Vilolently Bloody And
Ominously Bizarre Memorial Day '73 Holiday Weekend At The Kern River

Our Roadside Stop For Cold Drinks And Gas -- My Turn To Drive With Janet And Rene Up Front
A Cryptically Timed Radio Report Of A Secret Service Agent's Death At Twilight -- The Girls In The Backseat Study My Face In The Rearview -- Their Faces Fading Into Night Like A Scene From MacBeth

It was late Sunday afternoon May 27th, when the the older Walsack sister and her friend Patty announced that they wanted to cut short, what had finally turned out to be the peacefull portion of what started out as a rather bizarre and bloody May 1973 Memorial Day weekend. -- The younger Walsack sister whose car it was that we al came in, was still pissed off from my retaliatory punch to her face after she hit me and made my mouth bleed. She didn't say a thing to me but just stared at me with eyes full of hate as she stood alongside Patty and her sister.

I was frankly looking forward to sleeping out under the stars for another night as I found the change relaxing, although I trust any of the five girls who I went the Kern River with, including my girlfriend Janet who I really didn't care to sleep with so much, as I wanted to better study her and the girls, most or all which were apparently police informants who 'ratted me out' to those Sheriffs Deputies from five different counties.

There was also the matter as to what were the underlying actual motives behind my invitation to spend the Memorial Day weekend from Patty, and the Walsack sisters therein the first place.

The entire situation smelled of conspiracy and manipulation from the very start. -- That whole thing with the bizarre and bloody brother beating brother to death incident followed by the Fisherman's intervention to stop it and the riot that Janet and the four other girls helped to incite over the fisherman's battery on the assailant to keep him from beating his brother to death.

I rather liked the fisherman's meting out 'street justice' there in the woods along the Kern River, and that the whole thing would have 'blown over' had the fisherman finished beating the assailant brother and neem allowed to return to his campsite, and the ungratefull beating victim hadn't turned on his rescuer and the members of his Crowd of 20 and Janet and the girls hadn't incited the whole matter into a full scale fucking riot.

It only took us all about 30 to 40 minutes for Janet, Rene and myself to get cleaned up a bit and load our camping gear into the large trunk of the '60 Dodge four-door, where I also made sure to put my 'stash' of 'Pink Ladies' and 'pot'. -- Patty and the two Walsack sisters had gotten their stuff together there in the meantime as well.

After rolling up a few 'joints' for the drive home and taking a leak behind some trees nearby I was ready to go. -- I recall that the skies were somewhat overcast and it sometime around 5:00 PM when the owner of the car, the younger Walsack sister took the driver's seat and the older Walsack and Patty joined her there there in the front bench seat of the beige colored '60 Dodge.

I opened the backdoor of car for Janet to get in and she slid over to the middle of the backseat and I got in after her and sat next to the door. -- Her friend Rene came in through the other back door and sat there on the other side of Janet.

To my understanding, neither the older Walsack sister nor her friend Patty had driver's licenses. Nor did Janet or Rene at that point in time. -- This meant that the only two licensed drivers were the younger Walsack sister, the onwer of the '60 Dodge sedan who I exchanged blows with the day before and I myself who had been driving for only about year then, since March of 1972 when I turned 19 years-old. -- I made up for it though therewith plenty of driving in my '60 T-Bird and my '62 Porsche.

Before we left, I took a few meth tabs that one the girls gave me as I wanted to be alert for the ride home just in case I was called on to drive and even if I wasn't, I thought it a good idea to be sober and alert for the long ride home just in case we got pulled over in the car by the CHP or the cops on the way home on a traffic matter and in the course there of, possibly check me out to see if I was 'stoned' as well.

In May '73, I still had just over nine-months left on my probation at that time in May '73 and I didn't want to get 'busted' and serve the other five months of my suspended sentence from my High School 'bust' back in March '71..

I thought it best that I was slightly 'wired' to counteract the effects of the 'Pink Ladies' (barbiturates) that I had taken earlier that morning and later slept off most of the effects earlier that afternoon and I also took a swim which to help to sober me up as well.

When the girls and I left our campsite on the Kern River, the owner of the car, the younger Walsack sister who I had exchanged blows with the day before took the wheel, with her older sister and Patty sitting next to her.

As I seem to recall it was the younger Walsack sister who drove our Memorial Holiday weekend of six, all the way from Azusa to the Kern River when we arrived there three days before.

During the drive from Azusa to the Kern River on Friday May 25, 1973, it was the younger Walsack sister who owned '60 Dodge 4 door, who drove all the way there and I suppose that we most likely have stopped about midway for a restroom break as well. --- I do recall however that I sat next to the left rear door in the backseat seat of the sedan chatting romantically with Janet and she responded in kind. -- I was then still looking foward to sleeping with her all during that Memorial Holiday weekend in May of 1973.

It was only the year before during the May 1972 Memorial Day weekend when I was then 19, that I was looking forward to going to the Colorado River with this girl I knew from Bassett. Her name was Betsy who I met through Claudia a girl I knew from LaPuente. I made all the arrangments and had plenty of cash, scored an eigth of cocaine for the weekend and plenty of 'pot'.

We were all set to go when I called her on the phone that holiday weekend Friday and she told my that her ex-bofriend Jimmy, had committed suicide the night before by hanging himself the night before and that now she didn't want to. -- These circumstances and events fall under Part 3 Sub Part 4 of "1979" / 1979westbrook.com. -- Please note that although I written drafts of all this, I have still not yet edited the text and posted it here at this website as of February 2018.

This said I was really looking forward to a laid back Memorial holiday weekend '73 in the woods with Janet my girlfriend who I did have some suspicions about, but who I nonetheless was also looking forward to having sex with all that weekend, -- Perhaps this was to try and compensate for the way that the Memorial Day weekend turned out the year before, as when I asked as to why her ex-boyfriend Jimmy killed himself, she said that he became extremely depressed when he found out that I was taking 'his girl' for the holiday weekend, and he apparently became suicidal as well. -- I met Jimmy a few times and he seemed like a pretty cool guy some months before he died.

Janet, the girls and I were forced to leave the Camp 3 campground in the hours immediately following the riot that they helped to instigate and resulted in the five separate interrogations I was then subjected to by Sheriff Deputies from Kern County, Santa Barbara County, Inyo County, Kings County and Tulare County on Friday May 27, 1973.

In need of a place to campout for the weekend, the six of us got into the Walsack sister's car and drove further north on the Kern River and scoped out the the banks along the river where we rolled out our sleeping bags and build a campfire in the late afternoon of May 25, 1973 only three hours or so after the tumultuous riot at the Camp 3 campground took place.

The image below taken from a 1970 California State road map and and the text accompanying it gives a pretty fair description, at least in part there of the actual circumstances and events of during the first leg of our trip from the Kern River back home to Azusa, California on Sunday evening May 27, 1973 and the meticulously arranged machinations involved there in monitoring my reaction to the death of a U.S. Secret Service agent a short time later during the second and final leg of the drive back home to Azusa.

This also applies to the other montages and photos and text used to better describe the subtle complexities and subterfuge involved during that ride back home to Azusa from the Kern River on the evening and night of Sunday May 27, 1973.


 

 

 

 

 

 


In light of all the conspiratorial planning and violent machinations that resulted in my being put in virtual isolation for what I could only conclude was my covert drugging and interrogation during those two nights I spent at the kern River on May 25 and May 26, 1973, and elaborately arranged events during the drive from the Kern River back to Azusa -- it seems pretty clear that all this must have had something to do with the start of the Watergate Hearings only the week before on May 17, 1973.

This is made all the more crediable by the fact that only two weeks later in mid June of 1973, that ex-CIA agent and key Watergate burglary figure E. Howard Hunt, gave testimony to the Senate Watergate Committee in a 'closed door session' in which Hunt testified that Nixon Presidential advisor and DIA agent Charles Colson ordered him (Hunt), to fly to Milwaukee in order to break into the apartment of Arthur Bremer, only hours after he was taken into custody for allegedly shooting then Presidential Candidate and former Alabama Governor George Wallace at a campaign rally in Laurel Maryland, near Washington D.C. on May 15, 1972, only the year before.

Weirder still was the way in which a man who claimed to be the nephew of Charles Colson, and his two medical student protoges moved into to the house where I rented a room at 250 E. Center street in Covina, on November 26, 1972, the monday after Thanksgiving weekend and then just as quickly moved out only days laters, just before the United Flight 553 plane crash in Chicago on December 8, 1972, also referred to as the Watergate plane crash, from which the cyanide laced body of Watergate figure E. Howard Hunt's wife was found on.

The United Flight 553 / Watergate plane crash is also noteworthy because of the numerous eyewitness reports of FBI, military and intel agents who were sighted swarmimg all over the Southside Chicago neighborhood where the crash took place, near Midway Airport.

In Part 3 Sub Part 5 of "1979"/1979westbrook.com I describe the strange circumstances and events during which time the Colson nephew and his associates were my landlady's houseguests from late November on through the first week of December 1972.

You may click on the image link below to read more about these events and scroll down a bit further on this page to read about Watergate figure E. Hunt's closed door testimony before the Senate Watergate Commitee in mid June of 1973 linking Nixon Presidential advisor Charles Colson to would be Presidential Candidate assassin Arthur Bremer in May 1972. -- Facts and evidence clearly prove that Arthur Bremer, who was in fact convicted for shooting former Governor Wallace, wasn't even one of the shooters, rather he was only a 'patsy' who later served decades in prison for a crime that he, Bremer never committed.

 

In Part 3 Sub Part 5 of "1979"/1979westbrook.com I describe the strange circumstances and events during which time the Colson nephew and his associates were my landlady's houseguests from late November on through the first week of December 1972.

Click on the image link below to read about the circumstances and events described in Part 3 Sub Part 5 of "1979"/1979westbrook.com



 

 



The 1960's TV show "The Wild, Wild West" , the show's title character named James West, a close match to my own name James Westbrook.
I used to watch the show as kid with members of my family. -- The 'tongue in cheek', sci-fi-adventure-western program used to air on the CBS affiliate in Los Angeles, KNXT Channel. -- The show ran from September 1963 until the May or possibly June of 1967.

In the fall of 1963 I recall that the TV program aired on Friday evenings and as this was the case I recall that it was during morning recess on November 22, 1963 wee were called back to class early and my teacher was in tears as President Kennedy had been shot and that the television set that was perched on the five foot tall TV stand on wheels that we only watched during Spanish lessons on and other educational programs on was tuned into CBS with Walter Cronkite pointing to the right side of his forehead with his in reference to the bullet that was fired at the front of the Presidential limo hitting President Kennedy's forehead.

It was only after eleven years of murdered witnesses, destroyed evidence, manufactured evidence, perjury, treason and subverions on grand scale that the American People were finally allowed to the Zapruder film, whereas had the film not been seized by TIME-LIFE as part of the governmental cover-up, it quite possibly would have started another American Revolution.

This said, when I started writing about the circumstances and events of my life in the year 1979, fourteen years later in mid 1993, I used to watch re-runs of the old TV series 'The Wild, Wild West' which used to aire on various cable TV channels in the 1990's as well as KDOC TV in Anahiem, California which aired on UHF in the O.C. and L.A, --In the show's credits at the end of each and every program there was alway the date in Roman Numerals showing the year that the program was made aired on the CBS TV network. -- They always read the years 1963 through 1967 showing the actual dates of each and every episode that aired during those years.

In the 1990's I was thinking about script writing and I located a place in the San Fernando Valley that sold reprints scripts for U.S. movies and T.V, shows and I obtained one of their catalogs that listed scripts for the entire run of the "The Wild, Wild West" TV and these catalogs listed the airing dates and they too showed that the original airing dates were from September 1963 on through May or possibly June of 1967.

Sometime in the late 1990's or possibly early 2000's I came across some reference materials that cited the program as starting in the fall of 1964. When I referenced some books on TV programs of the 1960's, some books written about the TV series itself -- the original airing date premiere was anywhere from 1964 to 1966.

I recall during the night of President Kennedy's assassination on November 22, 1963, how instead of coverage on the assassination, I wished that I was watching the TV show, "The Wild,Wild West" instead.

The reason that I go into this bit of seemimgly irrelevant 1960's TV show trivia is that why did it seem necessary to perform such an arcane and weird bit of historical revisionism on a TV show that aired on the night of the day of the 'JFK' assassination -- and then why only after I started writing about the events in Portland that led to my interview at U.S. Secret Service there in March 1979, fourteen years later in 1993.

As for the reasons behind the elaborately arranged and skillfully manipulated scam to monitor my reactions to the death of U.S. Secret Service Dietrich on May 27, 1973 I can only guess that those elements of the FBI, CIA and other intel orgs behind it possibly suspected that I was some kind of informant for other intel orgs which I wasn't, and or that I had some kind of connection to the U.S. Secret Service which I never had.

It was only as last ditch effort to get of Portland, Oregon alive in March 1979 that I had to decided to contact the Secret Service in Portland, as I then needed them to get me past the FBI, CIA and 'mob' conscripts that I knew would be waiting to grab at the Western Airlines terminal as I tried to board my escape flight bound for LAX Los Angeles.
Sure enough it worlked, but I could have never imagined the magnitude of the horrendous amount of retaliatory collateral damage that was to was to followed in the weeks, months and years to come.

Perhaps the reason all the games ran on me at the Kern River was to see which side of the fence I fell on with regard to law and order or outright anarchy and if so might I run to the Secret Service or other law enforcement or intel agencies if and when I was to be later used as a 'patsy' or 'fall guy' for some 'frame up' in the future.

 

 


The Insight I Gained From From The Riot, Police Interrogations, Comspiracies And Subterfuge During My May '73 Memorial Holiday Weekend With Janet 'My Girlfriend ' And 4 Other Girls Was To Give Me A New Slant On Reality 15 Months Later During My Hitch-Hiking Trip To My New Home In Northern California On August 31st, And Labor Day On Through Mid September '74 During My Pre-Arranged Detour To Portland With Some Girls All Made To Appear Spontaneous