Read The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test Online
Authors: Tom Wolfe
Tags: #United States, #Social Science, #General, #Popular Culture, #History, #20th Century
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (45 page)
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In short, Graham is pulling out of the deal and there will be no Acid Test Graduation at Winterland.
LATE IN THE AFTERNOON IN THE WAREHOUSEâCHRIST, IT'S dismal in here! The place is always a shambles, of course, but now the funk of the day's debacle is settling in like a sludge. The vermin are regaining the upper hand ⦠The lice! The pigeon fleas! The roaches! rats! scabies! impetigo! clap! piles! herpes! all rising up out of the debris like boils ⦠Faye, Mountain Girl, Babbs, Gretch, Black Maria, Page, Doris Delay, Stewart Brand, Lois, the Hermit, Roy Seburn, Gut the ex-Hell's Angel, Kesey's brother Chuck, Zonkerâthey're all rumbling around in the gloom, but they're not Flag People any more, the costumes are off like the war is over ⦠They're gathering around in a circle in folding chairs and old theater seats on one side of the bus ⦠Acid Test Graduation ⦠The sign is still stretched across the whole side of the bus ⦠Well, shit ⦠Kesey, in his buckskin shirt again, comes around in the midst of them carrying a huge easy chairâstuffed with tiny wings!âover his headâand sets it down with the back to the bus and sits down in itâa molting chairâand the Prankster circle rings out from him. Kesey stares at a spiral notebook he has and then starts talking in a voice so soft I can hardly hear him at first ⦠about what has just happened ⦠about Danny Rifkin and some others who came by to tell him they were pulling out of the Winterland fantasy.
“It didn't take long to know they wouldn't change their minds,” he says. “They won't change because they have too much money involved ⦠As soon as they left, I lay down and I thought about it and then I knew we have everything we want right here ⦔
RIGHT HERE?
“ ⦠in this warehouse, and this is where we're going to do it. We're going to have the Graduation here and it's going to be our scene. We have a certain number of people we want to get close to us, and they're going to be here and it's going to be better than anything we could have done at Winterland ⦔
WHISTLING
“ ⦠Here we're on our own grounds, and we can do what we want, for our own scene, and we don't have to do any more politicking or compromising. We'll do it our own way and we'll be the Bay Area's Superheroes ⦔
LAST HOLE IN THE SAPLING SKY
“ ⦠One reason it didn't come off was that it was too big and too hot and they all got frightened. They all want to be eagles, but they don't want to act like eagles, so we're going to have to do it ourselves. We tried to do it the other way, but they weren't interested ⦠So we're going to keep it down to those people who are going to make it as tight a scene as we can get. They are the kind of people who, if they've got anything to say, it will spread out from them, and they can say it straight, and it will spread out from them and there will be no stopping it. And that's the essential fantasy. We're moving it all in here, into the Rat Shack.”
INTO THE RAT SHACK
Then Kesey's voice picks up and he starts assigning tasks: Page in charge of setting up a stage and chairs. Roy Seburn to decorate the place with a lot of cloth hangings. Faye and Gretch to get food and drink. Hermit to seal up all the holes in the walls. Zonk to draw up and post the guest list â¦
THE FEW!
The fantasy is to compile an invitation list and contact them all,
far and wide, now, this afternoon and tonight, by telephone, messenger, whatever it takes, and everybody starts thinking of those people close in enough to
far and wide, now, this afternoon and tonight, by telephone, messenger, whatever it takes, and everybody starts thinking of those people close in enough to
THE WHOLE FREAKING ADVENTURE
to invite to this last roundup ⦠What a thought! â¦
to invite to this last roundup ⦠What a thought! â¦
DO YOU REMEMBER
all the Pranksters who have wandered far and wide, like June the Goon, Marge the Barge, Sensuous X, Anonymous, Norman Hartwegâ
all the Pranksters who have wandered far and wide, like June the Goon, Marge the Barge, Sensuous X, Anonymous, Norman Hartwegâ
“Hire an ambulance to bring him from Ann Arbor!” Christ, all the memories ⦠the Perry Lane people ⦠Sandy Lehmann-Hauptâ
BECAUSE, NEVERTHELESS, HE WAS THERE WHEN
the pudding whipped up creamyâ
the pudding whipped up creamyâ
“Hugh Romney!”
“Bonnie Jean!”
And Paul Sawyer and Rachel Rightbred ⦠and all the wild screwy people who got on the bus on the golden track wherever and whitherâ
“Mary Microgram!”
“That little guy who wrote the pot poem!”âand they write that downâ
“That guy with the ears, that
weirdo!”
says Babbsâand they write that downâ
weirdo!”
says Babbsâand they write that downâ
“That couple in Portland!”âand they write that downâ
“That pretty Indian boy on Haight Street!”âand they write that downâ
“The Mad Chemist!”
YEAH! OH SHIT, DO YOU REMEMBER
“Big Nig!”
GIMME THE RENT
“Culley!”
“Owsley!”
SURVIVAL
“That guy in jail!”
“The Who Cares Girl!”
RA-A-A-A-AY
“Ray!”
“Pancho Pillow!”
“J. Edgar Hoover!”âand they write that downâ
SEE THE VERY HUNTED COONS
“Gaylord!”
“Jim Fish!”
“Agent Number One!”
¡MARICONES!
“Cosmo!”
Cos-mo
Oh shit what a flow from eons ago in La Honda across the length and the breadth and the sleek and the Rat and it all comes flooding and bubbling back like a crest if they can just sit up on it and ride and ride and ride and ride here in the gloom and beat back those little crab lice in frogmen's suits six little neoprene rubber armlets for each little crab louse leg creeping about camouflaged like tiny scars in the brain the focking debacle infestation, the morose thought clumped somewhere in every brain until out through the starveling self-shuck fiesta euphoria Page brings it out front and out loud in the scabid sinkhole of the Warehouse, the ancient Shellube voice of please-don't-shit-me:
“It's great to be a part of the greatest jackoff in history.”
NEVERTHEFREAKINGLESS! THE NEXT NIGHT, HALLOWEEN, the magic long-awaited hour ⦠I can hardly believe it, the Pranksters have transformed the place. You have to hand it to them, they must have worked like Turks. It's still a pestilence among buildings, you understand, this Warehouse, but there's verve in the air, Rat splendor. The most splendid thing is a huge orange-and-white parachute, an enormous thing, just the silk, not the strings and all, hooked to the ceiling at the apex, and billowed out to the far corners of the ceiling like some majestic
canopy out of a Louis XV lawn revel in the Orangerie at Versailles. It glistens!
Grand luxe!
The very same parachute, it turns out, that Astronauts use on reentry for the splashdown ⦠Hmmmmm ⦠Yes ⦠Quite a sight! The Pranksters have turned into the Flag People again, in their American Flag coveralls. Mountain Girl sits at the Sixth Street side in Flag coveralls checking guests against the invitation list which is posted up on the door in Paul Foster God Rotor script. Mountain Girl opens the Can't Bust 'Em coveralls and suckles Sunshine as the few, the faithful ⦠the many! ⦠come flapping by ⦠Their faces are painted in Art Nouveau swirls, their Napoleon hats are painted, masks painted, hair dyed weird, embroidered Chinese pajamas, dresses made out of American flags, Flash Gordon diaphanous polyethylene, supermarket Saran Wrap, India-print coverlets shawls Cossack coats sleeveless fur coats piping frogging Bourbon hash embroidery serapes sarongs saris headbands bows batons vests frock coats clerical magisterial scholar's robes stripes strips flaps thongs Hookah boots harem boots Mexicali boots Durango boots elf boots Knight boots Mod boots Day-Glo Wellingtons Flagellation boots beads medallions amulets totems polished bones pigeon skulls bat skeletons frog thoraxes dog femurs lemur tibia kneecap of a coyote ⦠A hell of a circus, in short, a whole carnival banner, a panopticon. Hell's Angels pulling in, in their colors, the death's-head jackets, full dress, beards combed and trimmed, Terry the Tramp, Pete the Drag Racer, Ralph of Oakland, plus their girls ⦠miniskirts and raspberry stockings ⦠Chocolate George ⦠Chaos! Shitfire! Chocolate George doesn't see his name on the list and his girl keeps saying, “What's the matter, George, can't we get in?” until Mountain Girl gives a bullshit laugh and waves them in. A kid about ten pops out of the door onto Sixth Street and yells, “Who's smoking grass around here?”âin the most demanding voice you ever heard ⦠aggressive little devil. There's even a nursery set up inside the door and they keep making the Hermit stay the hell out of there. Kesey is off to one side in a Flag People coverall, looking around, not saying
much, listening to a big Angel from Oakland who has on a polka-dot shirt and a polka-dot tie under his Angels' jacketâ“I wore a shirt and tie, Ken, on account of it's Halloween”ârock ân' roll playing over the loudspeakers, which are all over the place, on the sides, on the ceiling, right up in the summit of the parachute canopy even ⦠microphones, cameras, TV cameras ⦠Yes ⦠The Few and the Faithful!âall the same, the word of the hoopla in the scabid old Warehouse is around town like a chic piece of information. Irresistible, of course ⦠Three TV stations have cameramen there, four radio stations with microphones and tape machines. Herbert Gold the novelist with an aftershave smile on. Ingrid Bergman's daughter, Pia Lindstrom ⦠Oh, sweet adrenal edge! This is where it's at! whatâcould this be â¦
the new wave?
⦠Where? in comes the
Women's Wear Daily
correspondent in San Francisco, Albert Morch, a brassy little character with a Rolleiflex around his neck ⦠Caterine Milinaire of
Vogue
with a miniature camera in a chain-mail evening purse, standing amid Angels, heads, and the Probation Generation like a Bulfinch princess ⦠Larry Dietz the magazine writer from Los Angeles ⦠And me ⦠Kesey looking around and saying nothing and ⦠wondering ⦠Hmmmmm ⦠The Few and the Faithful and the whole hulking world. It's a regular beano, all right. But, Mother! These costumes aren't for a Halloween party but for the liberation of dead souls ⦠churchly vestiture, in truth â¦
canopy out of a Louis XV lawn revel in the Orangerie at Versailles. It glistens!
Grand luxe!
The very same parachute, it turns out, that Astronauts use on reentry for the splashdown ⦠Hmmmmm ⦠Yes ⦠Quite a sight! The Pranksters have turned into the Flag People again, in their American Flag coveralls. Mountain Girl sits at the Sixth Street side in Flag coveralls checking guests against the invitation list which is posted up on the door in Paul Foster God Rotor script. Mountain Girl opens the Can't Bust 'Em coveralls and suckles Sunshine as the few, the faithful ⦠the many! ⦠come flapping by ⦠Their faces are painted in Art Nouveau swirls, their Napoleon hats are painted, masks painted, hair dyed weird, embroidered Chinese pajamas, dresses made out of American flags, Flash Gordon diaphanous polyethylene, supermarket Saran Wrap, India-print coverlets shawls Cossack coats sleeveless fur coats piping frogging Bourbon hash embroidery serapes sarongs saris headbands bows batons vests frock coats clerical magisterial scholar's robes stripes strips flaps thongs Hookah boots harem boots Mexicali boots Durango boots elf boots Knight boots Mod boots Day-Glo Wellingtons Flagellation boots beads medallions amulets totems polished bones pigeon skulls bat skeletons frog thoraxes dog femurs lemur tibia kneecap of a coyote ⦠A hell of a circus, in short, a whole carnival banner, a panopticon. Hell's Angels pulling in, in their colors, the death's-head jackets, full dress, beards combed and trimmed, Terry the Tramp, Pete the Drag Racer, Ralph of Oakland, plus their girls ⦠miniskirts and raspberry stockings ⦠Chocolate George ⦠Chaos! Shitfire! Chocolate George doesn't see his name on the list and his girl keeps saying, “What's the matter, George, can't we get in?” until Mountain Girl gives a bullshit laugh and waves them in. A kid about ten pops out of the door onto Sixth Street and yells, “Who's smoking grass around here?”âin the most demanding voice you ever heard ⦠aggressive little devil. There's even a nursery set up inside the door and they keep making the Hermit stay the hell out of there. Kesey is off to one side in a Flag People coverall, looking around, not saying
much, listening to a big Angel from Oakland who has on a polka-dot shirt and a polka-dot tie under his Angels' jacketâ“I wore a shirt and tie, Ken, on account of it's Halloween”ârock ân' roll playing over the loudspeakers, which are all over the place, on the sides, on the ceiling, right up in the summit of the parachute canopy even ⦠microphones, cameras, TV cameras ⦠Yes ⦠The Few and the Faithful!âall the same, the word of the hoopla in the scabid old Warehouse is around town like a chic piece of information. Irresistible, of course ⦠Three TV stations have cameramen there, four radio stations with microphones and tape machines. Herbert Gold the novelist with an aftershave smile on. Ingrid Bergman's daughter, Pia Lindstrom ⦠Oh, sweet adrenal edge! This is where it's at! whatâcould this be â¦
the new wave?
⦠Where? in comes the
Women's Wear Daily
correspondent in San Francisco, Albert Morch, a brassy little character with a Rolleiflex around his neck ⦠Caterine Milinaire of
Vogue
with a miniature camera in a chain-mail evening purse, standing amid Angels, heads, and the Probation Generation like a Bulfinch princess ⦠Larry Dietz the magazine writer from Los Angeles ⦠And me ⦠Kesey looking around and saying nothing and ⦠wondering ⦠Hmmmmm ⦠The Few and the Faithful and the whole hulking world. It's a regular beano, all right. But, Mother! These costumes aren't for a Halloween party but for the liberation of dead souls ⦠churchly vestiture, in truth â¦
Are we blind? ⦠Oblation ⦠Consecration ⦠Communion ⦠Well ⦠The Anonymous Artists of America climbing up onto the stage ⦠They're like freaking faeries out of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
, dueling shirts and long gowns of phosphorescent pastels like the world never saw before, Day-Glo death masks beaming out in front of the instruments. The music suddenly submerges the room from a million speakers ⦠a soprano tornado of it ⦠all-electric, plus the Buchla electronic music machine screaming like a logical lunatic â¦
A Midsummer Night's Dream
, dueling shirts and long gowns of phosphorescent pastels like the world never saw before, Day-Glo death masks beaming out in front of the instruments. The music suddenly submerges the room from a million speakers ⦠a soprano tornado of it ⦠all-electric, plus the Buchla electronic music machine screaming like a logical lunatic â¦
Out into the middle, under the great parachute canopy and the
spotlights, sailing across the mungery carpet ⦠Doris Delay of the Pranksters in Flag People coveralls and Terry the Tramp of Hell's Angels in an Ozark razorback stovepipe hat dark glasses Angel beard, a huge brown-and-black striped sweater like a raccoon, the Angels' sleeveless jacket and the death's head, blue jeans, motorcycle boots ⦠Christ, here's a coming-out party for you, Doris Delay and Terry the Tramp ⦠stomping and flailing about in a regular hoedown ⦠but formal in a wacky way. They dance for about a minute and then the others rush out, a storm of them, couples in acid-head fancy dress, dancing to the rock ân' roll, only they're dancing clean out of their gourds, they leap, they flail their arms up in the air, they throw their heads back, they gyrate and levitate ⦠they're in a state ⦠they're ecstatic ⦠Gary Goldhill looks on from the side. He has on a huge lake-red Chinese pajama top with a gold dragon embroidered on it. He's spooked about the Warehouse ⦠Musty! ⦠Insane! ⦠Friends or spirits? WellâEarth can be Heaven & Hell and he takes the plunge ⦠and reaches into his pants pocket and swallows a potion â¦
spotlights, sailing across the mungery carpet ⦠Doris Delay of the Pranksters in Flag People coveralls and Terry the Tramp of Hell's Angels in an Ozark razorback stovepipe hat dark glasses Angel beard, a huge brown-and-black striped sweater like a raccoon, the Angels' sleeveless jacket and the death's head, blue jeans, motorcycle boots ⦠Christ, here's a coming-out party for you, Doris Delay and Terry the Tramp ⦠stomping and flailing about in a regular hoedown ⦠but formal in a wacky way. They dance for about a minute and then the others rush out, a storm of them, couples in acid-head fancy dress, dancing to the rock ân' roll, only they're dancing clean out of their gourds, they leap, they flail their arms up in the air, they throw their heads back, they gyrate and levitate ⦠they're in a state ⦠they're ecstatic ⦠Gary Goldhill looks on from the side. He has on a huge lake-red Chinese pajama top with a gold dragon embroidered on it. He's spooked about the Warehouse ⦠Musty! ⦠Insane! ⦠Friends or spirits? WellâEarth can be Heaven & Hell and he takes the plunge ⦠and reaches into his pants pocket and swallows a potion â¦
Already a few enraptured grins breaking out in the crowd ⦠Rapt wet-lipped bliss ⦠They glisten, their eyes are wide open like plastic nodules. The Telepathic Kid is so high, grinning so wet and glistening, he looks like one great psychic orgasm getting ready to unfold exfoliate into ⦠a calla lily ⦠and a blond kid with a white Nehru coat on and a big silver pendant hanging down over his chest kneeling before the rock ân' roll band with his hands brought up like in prayer and a grin of such pure acid bliss on his face that his teeth sizzle ⦠a pot full of boiling pearls ⦠The Pranksters, Babbs and Gretch and Page and others, take to the bandstand, all electrified, and they start beaming out the most weird loud Chinese science-fiction music and cranking up the Buchla electronic music machine until it maneuvers itself into the most incalculable sonic corner, the last turn in the soldered circuit maze, and lets out a pure topologically measured scream. Ultima-time, with heavy-duty wiring, the
works. Kesey stands off to one side still, in the shadows, at ⦠Control Central, only now he has the Flag People coveralls off and is bare chested, wearing only white leotards, a white satin cape tied at the neck, and a red, white, and blue sash running diagonally across his chest. It's ⦠Captain America! The Flash! Captain Marvel! the Superhero, in a word â¦
works. Kesey stands off to one side still, in the shadows, at ⦠Control Central, only now he has the Flag People coveralls off and is bare chested, wearing only white leotards, a white satin cape tied at the neck, and a red, white, and blue sash running diagonally across his chest. It's ⦠Captain America! The Flash! Captain Marvel! the Superhero, in a word â¦
At the height of the frenzy suddenly the lights go out, the sound goes out, all replaced by a single spotlight hitting the center of the floor. Kesey's brother Chuck is up in the rafters working the lights. You can hear Babbs's and Hassler's voices over microphones in the dark, rapping back and forth in a shuck manner: “Do you think they'd clear out of the center if we asked them, Hassler?” ⦠“Sure, they're gonna clear out the center faster than you can say clear out the center” ⦠But everyone just mills around, caught in the blackout. Babbs says: “If they don't clear out the center, then they're a bunch of assholes” ⦠Well, let's try the direct approach! They clear out of the ellipse where the spot beams down, and Kesey comes in out of the darkness. He's taken the cape and the sash off, however. Too freaking much, I guess. He's just wearing the white ballet tights and his wrestler's build. A pair of jockey shorts show faintly under the leotardsâjust the right touch ⦠here in the Rat Shack ⦠He has a hand microphone up to his mouth ⦠. Kesey in the leotards with the pool of light in front of him and the heads all packed in around the loop of light in the darkness ⦠. It's good and theatrical ⦠in a weird weird way ⦠Some of the heads get the point immediately. Without a sound, they start tossing things into the pool of light, sugar cubes, capsules, cigarette papers, a couple of joints, beads, amulets, headbands, all the charms and totems of psychedelphia into the pool of light. It's ⦠an altar ⦠Kesey starts talking over the microphone in the upcountry drawl â¦
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