Tinker and Blue (19 page)

32

The Commune Council gathered around the table in the kitchen to discuss an agenda that included the violence of the previous night, new developments at the commune in Colorado, and the contribution each member was making toward the food and financial needs of the San Francisco site.

Blue, nursing a hangover, had been coaxed by Karma to get up and join the discussion since his and Tinker's future with the Human Rainbow Commune was once again being called into question, as it had been in Colorado. He groped his way to the bathroom and, returning with cold water dripping from his face and hair, told Karma that Henry Bruce, “this artist I was telling you about would of gotten a thousand dollars in New York for what I just threw up in there.” Karma guided him out to the kitchen.

“There was an incident here last night that contradicts every value we have,” Capricorn said. “Two members of this commune had a violent confrontation—”

“Who were they? Point them out and I'll kill them,” Blue interrupted.

“Blue, don't do this,” Karma pleaded.

“It's not a joke, Blue. You haven't the faintest idea of what we consider important. If it wasn't for Karma, you wouldn't have anything to do with the commune, and we'd all be a lot happier. We're not playing a game here. We're trying to do something creative with our lives, not destructive. You can call it naive, childish, foolish, whatever you like....”

“All of the above, as the other fellow says.”

“...we've all been called it before. Where we're going, or even what's to become of each of us we don't know, but at this moment, here, now, we believe in something worth living for, and we believe in each other, and we're trying hard not to succumb to violent solutions. What happened here last night is unacceptable. What has to be decided this morning is just how acceptable or unacceptable yours and Tinker's behaviour is to the rest of the Council, and the rest of the commune. Can you explain what happened, or why we shouldn't expel you?”

“Because what happened last night wasn't violence,” Blue said, looking around the table. “It was just a friggin' fist fight. Tinker's my best friend, for Christ's sake. It's not like it hasn't happened before. Maybe it's still bothering you but it's just another story to us now,” he explained. “Look,” he continued, “if you're going to talk about throwing somebody out, you better know that Tinker didn't start the fight, I did.”

“Well, it's not how we solve problems here,” Capricorn said. “There are more humane ways of dealing with conflicts than physical violence.”

“Is there now! And how well does that work, huh? Tinker and I had a problem and now we don't, but me and you, Capi, we've had a problem ever since we met, right? Maybe if we had of stepped outside the first time we realized we didn't like each other, at least we'd know where we stand now instead of sniping at each other like a couple of old women. So much for your civilized way of dealing with it, which I think is just another way of saying that you'd like to get rid of Tinker and me and this is your big chance, but it's not fair to Tinker and if you think Tinker should of turned the other cheek, then you can kiss my other cheeks, buddy! That's all I got to say.”

Watching Capricorn take a deep breath, Blue silently started to count ... one, two, three.... At the stroke of ten, Capricorn began to talk and Blue knew that commune leader had been counting down his anger, trying to control it. Blue flashed him a quick wink and smile, the remnants of his hangover vanishing as Capricorn's ears reddened with suppressed rage. “Gotcha, you bastard,” Blue whispered to himself.

“This meeting isn't about getting rid of you or anyone, Blue, it's about getting rid of violence as a concept. Everybody in this commune was taught in school and even in the movies to celebrate a violent history. Our country, yours too, I suppose, has made heroes of men who have committed genocide. We don't even allow ourselves to see that there is really no difference between what the Germans did to the Jews and what this continent has done to the Indians, or what it is doing to the Vietnamese right now. Some of us want to find another way of living, another way of seeing, another way of being.

“We understand anger, we know rage, and we believe it's the greatest waste of energy on the planet. We've come to accept the basic truth that violence is not natural. The point of our commune here, and will be when we are able to go back to Colorado, is to create a society in which we have nothing to fear from one another.”

To Blue, who could see Capricorn visibly cooling down, the speech sounded as much a recitation and reminder to the speaker as a sermon to himself.

“I think most people in this commune,” Capricorn continued, “see and accept the fact of why you and Tinker are here, and we believe Karma and Kathy's influence will probably be more creative on you than yours will be destructive to them. The Commune Council has the choice of calling for a vote on your banishment by all the membership, or issuing a warning directly to you. Does anyone have any objection to a warning instead of a commune vote?” When no one replied, Capricorn went on. “We'll forget what happened here yesterday, but there mustn't be an occurrence of it ever again, Blue. Can you agree to that?”

“No problem, buddy,” Blue said, making an open-handed gesture. “Tinker and I don't get into it more than once or twice a year anyway and the next time it happens, you won't even know it happened,” Blue promised, but under his cocky assurance to Capricorn he felt a surprising wave of relief that his fate had not been put to the vote.

“The next subject is Colorado,” Capricorn said, moving the meeting along. “For some unexplained reason the FBI have gone back to the commune a number of times since Tulip and Cory were released. People from the commune who have gone back to check it out learned from the townspeople that the FBI have been crawling all over the place. They've ransacked anything they hadn't already destroyed, and have been removing things from the site like the water pumps, even the old compressor.”

“Maybe they think we had a laboratory up there,” Tulip offered. “The two things they were most interested in when they interrogated us were drugs and Capricorn. Special agent Bud Wise is convinced that we were supplying the whole world with LSD, that it was part of Capricorn's plot to destroy democracy in the United States, although they didn't even see Cory let the horses munch the marijuana right under their noses. Maybe they're looking for chemical residue in the pumps to prove we were manufacturing it. Wise is certainly going to do whatever he can to manufacture a case against Capricorn.”

Tulip's speculation fuelled Blue's curiosity again.

“What makes you so important, anyway?” he asked Capricorn. “Every time the subject of police comes up around here, so does your name.”

“They're afraid of the message Capricorn is spreading,” Tulip explained. “Study your history and you'll find Capricorn crucified all the way through it for offering alternatives. Peace, real peace, is the most frightening thing in the world to people with power. And peace is what we're reaching for here, all of us. The establishment exists on the exploitation of the masses. When individuals break loose from the masses to think for themselves, the establishment becomes scared, and frightened politicians and police forces are the most dangerous people in the world. They can't believe that Capricorn has no personal power ambitions. From their Wall Street fortresses peace is a plot.”

“Well, pardon me for living on Wall Street, wherever it is,” Blue said, “but when you're talking about crucifixions and peace and stuff like that in the same breath as Capi here, I have to think about things like the anti-Christ and—”

Karma placed her hand on Blue's arm, and when he turned to her she drew him in with her eyes. “Let it go for now, Blue. We can all talk about it some other time.” Blue slowly opened his hands, releasing the subject like a caught bird while giving Capricorn a look that said the subject would come back again.

Capricorn went on to tell the Council that until they knew what the FBI's interest in the Colorado commune was, and until the heat of that interest died down, the commune would continue to operate from its San Francisco quarters. Everyone was instructed to keep commune activity at its current low, underground profile.

“Since we are not, despite the FBI's conviction to the contrary, manufacturing or selling drugs, we do have some financial problems,” Capricorn went on. “Almost everybody is contributing what they can, earning it selling flowers, face painting, making jewellery. Tulip made a major contribution after her art show. But food and rent for two houses here in San Francisco plus other expenses like Tulip and Cory's legal fees, are mounting up. Some people haven't made much of a donation to our communal needs, at all. Particularly you and Tinker, Blue.”

“Tinker will get his first cheque next week and take care of both of us,” Blue said, “and I'm working on some ideas.”

“The commune shares what it can, Blue. If one of us can't contribute for whatever reason then no demands will ever be made on that person. But we can't tolerate someone among us not making any effort at all to contribute. Tinker will pay his way now that he is working, I'm sure of that. But you're also working, but contributing nothing.”

“You guys know the weird trip Peter? is on. He's kept the band so busy practising that there hasn't been any time to get out on the street and hustle a few bucks with my talent. He doesn't want us to record. Hell, he's even asked us to play for nothing, but nobody should play for nothing. We got this guy back home, eh—”

“Farmer,” Capricorn interjected.

“Farmer doesn't play the fiddle,” Blue replied, wondering how Capricorn had reached that conclusion. “John Joe on the Mountain does, though. He can jig a pretty damn good tune. Anyway, he lives up on a mountain way back of Skye Glen, this little place down the road a ways from Mabou.

“One day, Farmer and Monk and myself were bringing this horse up to John Joe's. Farmer is driving along, swigging from a bottle of Monk's shine and he's pretty hammered.

“Anyway, we get to John Joe's and unload the horse and go into the house. John Joe pays Farmer and we're sitting around talking back and forth like this when Monk spots the fiddle hanging on the wall in the kitchen.

“‘How 'bout a tune, John Joe,' Monk says to him, and John Joe says to him, ‘I'd love to play for you gentlemen but every tune I ever learned on the fiddle I learned drunk, and I can't for the life of me remember them sober.' You see what John Joe was getting at, eh? Farmer didn't bring the bottle into the house, so Monk sent me out to the truck for it. It was wonderful to hear how a few drinks of Monk's shine restored John Joe's musical memory.”

“There's a point to this, I assume,” Capricorn said.

“Of course there's a point to it. The point is that unless you are singing in the church choir you shouldn't sing for nothing. John Joe understood that, but Peter? doesn't. He's got this idea that the band should become a legend by not recording.”

“We've read about it. We've also read that you've decided that it's a good idea, as well,” Capricorn added.

“You know what the other fellow says, don't you? Don't believe everything you read. And Farmer, this guy we got back home, says if a preacher is preaching temperance to the people coming in the front door of the church, you can bet he's bootlegging his own booze out the back door of the church. Now what I'm going to say can't leave this table, promise?” When everyone nodded agreement, Blue went on. “Capi, I wandered around the commune here trying to figure out just how you wired the whole house so that music comes out of everything including the toilet bowl. She's a neat job, I'll give you that.”

When Capricorn acknowledged the compliment, Blue went on. “A guy who knows so much about wires and stuff must know something about recording music.”

“I worked for a small record company for a while,” Capricorn said.

“Good. I'm glad to hear that because a small one is more important than a big one. In a small record company you probably had to do a lot of things, eh? With a small company you'd learn a lot about everything, am I right?”

“Right.”

“Well, here's what I'm thinking. Everybody knows now that Blue Cacophony isn't ever going to record. There's been a lot of publicity about that. One guy from a radio station told me it was too bad that his ‘larger listening audience,' as he called them, was never going to have a chance to hear the band. I bet there's a lot of people who would like to listen to us day and night like the Beatles instead of just when Peter? finds us a gig. Since people can't buy our music by walking through the front door of a music store, don't you think they should be able to buy them at the back door?”

“You're talking about pirating your own music,” Capricorn said as lights of understanding began to blink on in the faces around the table. “You're dead serious, aren't you?” he added, while the silence of the others assessed Blue.

“Yup! So are you too holy to listen to the rest of my plan or what?”

“We'll listen if the rest agree,” Capricorn said, counting the affirmative nods like ballots. Everyone agreed to listen. “Go on.”