I was going over some old blog posts I'd made in the past and ran across one I ran a few years ago. Since there are new people on here now, I thought I'd rerun it for some giggles. It's about me and Charlie Manson and his celly just chinnin'... Hope you enjoy it.
Blue skies,
Les
Former post from April 15, 2012:
Hi folks,
I thought you might be interested in
a recent exchange I had with author Richard Godwin. Richard is interviewing me
for his blog feature “Chin Wag at the Slaughterhouse.” It’s a fantastic
feature, where he interviews authors and asks the most fascinating and
“deepest” questions I’ve ever been asked by any interviewer. Richard is
interviewing me at the suggestion of noir master, Paul D. Brazill, a mutual
friend.
Richard conducts his interviews by
posing one question at a time. Once you respond to that question, he sends you
another. It’s an exhausting process but when we’re done, it’ll be the most
comprehensive interview I’ve ever had the pleasure of participating in. I’ll be
sure to let you know when it appears.
I had just sent him my replay to his
second question and he sent me the third. When he emailed me, he asked me the
question below and I thought you might be interested in the answer, since it’s
about an old acquaintance, Charlie Manson, and I know there are people out
there who are interested in Manson. (This isn’t the interview question—it’s
just a personal question he asked in response to Paul Brazill’s suggestion that
he do so.)
Be advised there are a few instances of strong language.
Here’s Richard Godwin’s question and
my reply:
Paul (D. Brazill) suggested I ask
you about Manson. I do not mean to put you on the spot, this is not part of the
interview. My first novel Apostle Rising was mentioned by a few reviewers in
the context of the Manson killings, as this review shows
All the best
Richard (Godwin).
Hi
Richard,
Well,
Charlie and I have a bit of a history.
About
ten years ago or so, a professor at the University of Toledo—Dr. Russell
Riesling--was writing a book about the drug experiences of famous people during
their youth. He had folks like Big Brother of Big Brother and the Holding
Company and some other folks. For some weird reason, he had a chapter on me.
I’d done drugs but definitely wasn’t famous!
Anyway,
Russ interviewed me for his book (which hasn’t been published yet, alas), and
we became friends. I sent him a copy of my story collection, Monday’s Meal. About two weeks after I
sent it, I got a phone call from him. Seems he’d been out to Corcoran Prison to
visit with and interview Charles Manson (who also had a chapter), and during
the visit, Charlie spotted the copy of Monday’s
Meal that Russ had with him. He asked if he could “borrow it” and Russ
loaned it to him. A few days later, he called Russ and was really excited
(according to Russ). He said he’d read the book and loved it and that I was “the
real deal” meaning a real-life outlaw, ex-con. He asked Russ if he’d ask me if
I’d mind if he (Charlie) called me. I told Russ, sure, and thus began a series
of phone calls from him to me.
Now,
when I was in prison, we weren’t allowed to call folks. At all. One of the many
things that have changed. Because of that, I wasn’t aware that all such phone
calls are made collect. At the end of the month, after which he called 3-4
times a week, I got the bill and it was astronomical! My wife had a cow and I
told Charlie we needed to dial it back a bit. (Pun intended…)
Mostly,
Charlie talked and I listened. He’s not hard to figure out. He’s a nutcase,
pure and simple. Knew lots of guys like him in the joint who just weren’t as
famous. We swapped stories and he may have told me a few things he’d done that
he hadn’t been nailed on and I may have returned in kind, but I won’t talk
about that. Anyway, I kind of got tired of talking to him—it was same-o, same-o
all the time—and was about to disassociate myself, when he told me his
cellmate, Roger Smith, really wanted to talk to me. I said okay and thus began
a series of phone calls with Roger.
Roger
bills himself as the “most-stabbed inmate in U.S. history—and he is. As of that
time, he’d been shanked over 300 separate times. The reason he was Charlie’s
cellmate was that both were in protective custody as there were hits out on
both of them from just about everybody in Corcoran. Over the years, Roger had
hired himself out as a hit man for every single gang in the joint and now all
of them had a hit out on him. The reason he wanted to connect with me was that
he thought I was a “great writer” (his words and they had little effect on
me—I’ve been on the receiving end of a shuck job attempt more than once…), and
he wanted me to write his life story. According to Roger, he’d had his “come to
Jesus” moment and wanted to right all the wrongs in his life. He said he wanted
his life story out there to help keep young kids from following in his
footsteps. He’d been locked up ever since he was a juvie and all that. Grew up
in one joint or another.
I
had to laugh when he told me he was “saved.” He sounded contrite… but every
other word out of his mouth with “fuck this” or “motherfucker this” and he
didn’t sound much like the converts I’d met down at the First Baptist… But,
I’ve been inside with a lot of guys who had these jailhouse conversions and he
wasn’t unusual.
He
told me Charlie was letting him use his personal secretary—some gal who lives
in North or South Carolina (forget which) who has all of Charlie’s journals and
communications and writings and such and who handles all his commercial
business. He can’t profit by books and interviews but he does take checks from
the networks and publishers and the proceeds all go to charity. Roger told me
he’d kept journals from when he was a little tad tyro outlaw and they were with
Charlie’s secretary and he said he’d have her send them to me—from what he
said, a LOT of journals(!)--and that he’d answer any questions I asked.
I
told him I was just too busy with my own work and really couldn’t do this
project, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Called me incessantly, trying
to persuade me to write his life history. Finally, one time, he said, “What’s
the real reason you don’t want to write it, Les?” I asked him if he wanted the
real reason and he said yeah, so I told him. “Roger,” I said, “you’re like a
serial killer. In fact, you are a
serial killer. Three hundred hits, dude.” “Yeah,” he said. “and why would that
prevent you from writing my story?” To which I answered that serial killers just
flat-out bored me (and they do). I told him serial killers just keep doing the
same exact thing, over and over and over, ad nauseum. After about the third
one, they’re just boring. And, I didn’t want to tie up a year of my life on
writing about some boring-ass serial killer.
There
was a silence and then he exploded. Called me everything but a white man.
Sounded kind of like he’d kind of backslid on the “saved” deal. Screamed that
if he ever got out of Corcoran my house was the first place he was heading. I
listened to him ranting and screaming at me and then said, “Roger?” He got
quiet and then said, “Yeah?” I said, “Roger, you’re not ever getting out of
there unless there’s a major earthquake and that isn’t likely. But, if somehow
you do get out, I’m aware that you prefer using a shank on your hits and if you
come to my house to nail me, I won’t have a shank. It’ll be something that
makes a louder noise. So, it’s been nice talking to you and have a nice life,
loser.”
And
that’s the last I’ve talked to either Roger or Charlie. But, for awhile we were
all jam.
So
that’s the story of me and Charlie Manson, Richard.
Hope
you enjoyed this little anecdote, folks. And, if you haven’t read Richard
Godwin’s books you really should. They’re fantastic.
Here’s
a link to his latest, Mr. Glamour. I
highly recommend it.
Blue
skies,
Les
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