Great Groupies Of  The Sixties Series

A Review

Cherry Vanilla: Lick Me

by

R.E. Prindle

Part I

Drug Culture

Vanilla, Cherry: Lick Me, How I Became Cherry Vanilla, 2010, Chicago Review Press

The sixties were the first period of excessive drug use.  Nearly everyone carried something, whether prescription or street.  How influential drugs would have been without psychedelics is questionable.  Psychedelics were legal for most of the sixties while enjoying great cachet.  LSD led many a poor boy and girl into drug use.  Live Better Through Chemistry was the parody of the motto.  LSD stories are legendary, people taking thousands of mics.  People dropping LSD daily for months on end.  Doug Dillard of the Dillards Band according to legend dropped daily for a couple of years or so.  Hendrix found in the desert crawling around on his hands and knees.  Incredible stuff.

Cherry Vanilla, nee Kathy Dorritie, certainly qualifies as a heavy drug and LSD user.  Staggering amounts.  She tells of a friend of hers who had a vial of what she believed to be pure liquid LSD.  She describes him saturating sugar cubes with it until the cubes began to disintegrate, then swallowing the cube.  I can’t comprehend the dosage.  After one massive dose she experienced a white out of her mind during which she went blind experiencing only a sense of blinding light.  She doesn’t say, probably doesn’t know, how long it lasted.  Life changing though.

Kathie was already an accomplished writer before beginning her autobiography so needed no co-writer.  I had recognized her style of writing before I read the account of her LSD intake.  LSD has an amazing effect on the mind which produces a very distinctive writing style.  Very clear, very organized, written at a very intense level with the little variation in dynamics that inevitably becomes a numbing bore, but so well constructed that it reflects the blinding light that Kathy experienced.

Tim Leary who was a major acid freak wrote some truly amazing books reflecting the LSD experience while if you want to read an amazing virtuoso performance find a copy of Stephen Gaskins Haight Ashbury Flashbacks.  These authors write with such amazing clarity and precision as to astound.

But, LSD is a totally inward experience, a complete divorce from the outside world which ceases to exist or becomes a sort of movie set.  There is such an intense preoccupation with self that even though the writing is crisp and exciting the tone becomes boring as the inner self isn’t that interesting.  The writing is on such an intense, unvarying level that there are no dynamics.  (That I’ve repeated myself means I mean it.)

The dissociation from external reality is so complete that one loses all self-consciousness, thus Kathie, or Cherry Vanilla, is able to copulate in public without any sense of embarrassment, indeed, even with a sense of liberation.  One might think she was an exhibitionist except that she is so preoccupied that she is almost unaware.

In time the inner world takes such precedence that one is unable to distinguish between the inner world of wishful thinking and the outer world of appearances.  Thus Tim Leary could imagine shrinking a few acres of earth into a small size to take with him on a space trip to other planets and believe it possible.  As if he wasn’t spaced enough.  His final fantasy was incredible enough and he was actually able to realize it.

When he died he willed that he be cremated and his ashes put in a real space ship and rocketed into space.   He’s up there now orbiting the planet every couple hours.  As his orbit degrades he will one day reenter the atmosphere as a shooting star.  Just absolutely incredible.

I don’t know how far out Kathy is but I imagine she finds it quite easy to draw a straight line from Point A to Point 9.

Now, not only did Kathy do amazing amounts of LSD but she was on the money on other drugs  too provided they gave the proper result.  She rejected heroin after a few times because it didn’t take her where she wanted to go.

She was a perfect child of the sixties even having a fine Dr. Feelgood.  One finds her memoirs less than trustworthy because she feels compelled to change names, not all, but some, we just don’t know which ones.

For instance she calls her Feelgood, Dr. Bishop.  That good doctor is the same as Dr. Roberts in Jean Stein and George Plimpton’s book, Edie about Edie Sedgwick.  Dr. Roberts is also a false name so we can’t be sure.  Perhaps Dr. Bishop is his real name but I can’t be sure.  Jean Stein and George Plimpton also quote Kathy under the name of Cherry Vanilla concerning an encounter with Dr. Roberts/Bishop that Kathy repeats here but quite differently.  Kathy’s memoirs were published in 2010 while Edie was published in 1982 so Kathy has had plenty of time to think about Dr. Bishop;  while on the other hand Stein and Plimpton appear to have used a heavy editing hand.  All of the dozens of people they interviewed sound remarkably alike so the interviews may reflect more of Stein and Plimpton’s modes of thought.  Perhaps they edited to make the text more exciting.

It is quite possible that Dr. Roberts/Bishop may have been with the CIA doing drug experiments.  The CIA was certainly active in the field at the time.  Bishop was even happy to participate as his own guinea pig.  This is an interesting topic so I am going to quote Kathy extensively as she repeats and edits her account from Edie.

By the summer of 1963 (when she was twenty) I had already become quite familiar with booze, grass, hash, coke, speed, opium, uppers, downers, and hallucinogens like mescaline, peyote and psilocybin because they were my favorites.

 

Those were just her favorites.  So in two years since she left home she had really been doing some living while at the same time performing well at her advertising job on Madison Avenue.

And then, pp 50-53:

I’m in with the in crowd;

I go where the in crowd goes,

I’m in with the in crowd:

And I know what the in crowd knows.

By Billy Page as sung by Dobie Gray

c. Warner/Chappell Music

The Jet Set and the In Crowd

Two sixties institutions

     Keeping up with the schedule I was on back then would have been impossible were it not for the drugs.  And in 1966 I got introduced to the in crowd’s newest  elixir.  Dr. Bishop’s vitamin shots.  At thirty-five dollars a pop, they were pretty expensive, but one or two a day would keep you up forever, and keep you looking fresh and vibrant the whole time.  I forget who first introduced me to Dr. Bishop.  It might have been Joel Schumacher (one of the original designers of the Paraphernalia store), whom I’d recently met at the Pines (Fire Island homosexual hangout), or Wally Clapham, a friend of Joel’s I knew from Mad Ave.  Anyway, someone had to bring you there.  You couldn’t just walk in off the street.

Dr. Bishop’s office was located on the ground floor of a highrise near First Avenue and later in a mansion at 53rd and Madison.  It was a scene so quintessentially sixties you couldn’t even imagine a doctor’s office like it today.  The clubby drug buzz in the waiting room was so dense and intense, you got high on anticipation just walking in there.  The “nurses” (none of us knew or cared if they were really nurses or not) wore seductively modern sportswear and often pulled down your pants and gave you your shot in the hallway, while the examining room might be occupied by Dr. Bishop giving someone the sixty dollar special and/or somebody “having a bad reaction.”   Everyone was always in a rush, wanted to be seen first, had somewhere to be, had a taxi waiting, whatever.  But then once they got that shot in the ass, they often couldn’t tear themselves away from the clinically and socially charged atmosphere and would get caught up in the speed rap session that was always going on among the patients.

When the taste of the iron, or whatever it was, hit your mouth, you started getting off on the shot.  And as long as the soreness in your ass lasted, your stamina pretty well lasted too, a good six to eight hours anyway.  The first half hour after the shot was dangerous, because you often got a sudden urge to shop, buy someone a gift, spend the rent money on something pretty.  And right across the street from the 53rd  Street office was a shop called Hunter’s World and, oh my God, how many elephant hair bracelets and zebra skin notebooks could anyone possibly need?….The other temptation was a nearby crystal and rock shop, where it was especially hard to resist the colorful sparklers.

Dr. Bishop had his favorite patients, especially the one male and one female he’d singled out from each sign of the zodiac.  I was his Libra girl.  I can’t believe I had a huge sense of pride about that.  It meant that, along with the vitamins and speed, my shot might get an extra dose of whatever he was experimenting with that week- things like adrenaline stimulants, niacin and even LSD.  And he’d have his favorites call him about an hour after getting a shot to let him know what we were feeling.  The guy was using us all as guinea pigs, and I thought he was some kind of savior, freeing us all from the need for food and sleep.

One night Dr. Bishop came by Aux Puces while I was spinning and offered me a free shot of something special if I’d come to his office after work.  All night at the turntables my mouth was watering at the prospect of what was to come.  And as soon as we closed I ran the two blocks over there to take him up on his offer.  As his building’s open-sided elevator rose through its day-glo painted, black-lit shaft, I felt positively dizzy with excitement.   A minute later I was alone with Dr. B. in his fabulous office space, with it high ceilings, mahogany paneled walls, dance studio, and all those delicious drugs in the cabinets.  He loaded the needles and instructed me to slap his ass, poke him fast, and slowly push the plunger on the first one.  And then he shot me up on the second.  A few minutes later, he had his fingers up my pussy and I was rushing beyond belief.

Pretty soon, I was going numb all over, even in my brain.  Then all of a sudden there was blood everywhere and Dr. Bishop just laughed and said rather flippantly, “My dear, you’re bleeding.  Maybe you should see a doctor.”  I knew I didn’t have my period and I didn’t feel any pain, but the shock of seeing the blood running down my legs made me come to my senses.  Even though the bleeding seemed to be subsiding, I just wanted to get out of there and get away from him as fast as I could.  It wasn’t easy, since he’d become perturbed and paranoid about the fact I was leaving.

I went back to Aux Puces, where the new maitre d’,  David Smith, was tripping after hours with Jay Martin and a couple of friends.  I banged desperately hard on the locked front door and, luckily, they heard me above the loud music they were playing.  My shaken state and gory story must have been a real bummer for them on their LSD high but they snapped into action immediately and got a limo to take me to the emergency room.  Turned out I had cuts and scratches inside my vagina made by a ring or more sinister object, though the doctors said no major damage had been done.  By that time the bleeding had stopped and I still wasn’t feeling any pain.  Though questioned I refused to rat out Dr. Bishop and was quickly released.  I went back to join the gang at Aux Puces, where we opened a few bottles of Chateau Lafitte Rothschild ‘60, smoked some hash-oiled joints and partied until dawn.

Let’s examine the above.  As I said Stein’s Edie was about twenty-eight years old when Kathy wrote this.  She undoubtedly read Edie so was familiar with her testimony then and as the account combines  and adds to Joel Schumacher’s and her own story it is possible she had a copy of the book before her and wrote from it.

The time she is writing about is 1966 which was the heyday of the Doctor Feelgoods.  I don’t know that a study has been done on them yet but there were apparently dozens of these guys practicing dope medicine beginning in approximately 1960.  As is well known a Dr. Max Jacobson was operating in the early sixties with an extensive elite clientele that included then President John F. Kennedy.  Dr. Jacobson even accompanied Kennedy to the  Khruschev summit meeting where he kept Kennedy loaded on these shots.  So for roughly six years New York City had been speeding along and whatnot.

At the same time the uptown Doctor, E. 87th, that the Beatles refer to as Dr. Robert was managing an extensive clientele.  Kathy refers to her guy as Dr. Bishop who is the same guy Jean Stein refers to as Dr. Roberts.  We may assume that neither name is correct.  Both Dr. Robert and Jacobson were Jewish, I believe Bishop probably was also.  In fact all, or nearly all, of these doctors were probably Jewish.

Now Kathy believed Dr. Bishop was experimenting on his clients.  If he was shooting them up with unknown drugs without their knowledge that was at the very least unethical not to mention shooting them up with amphetamines at all.  To say that no one knew the effects of amphetamines at the time is nonsense.  Amphetamines had been around  since 1887 while every army of WWII issued tablets to their troops.  Hitler’s own Dr. Feelgood kept him filled with amphetamines for years and his deterioration was obvious.  But, perhaps, more clinical observations were wanted or a more precise understanding of how large numbers of people reacted and could be controlled was needed.  Maybe they wanted to know how easy it would be to control and direct populations on drugs.

It is well known that the CIA and other governmental agencies experimented with drugs on soldiers and even to unknowing members of the civilian population.  Extensive experiments with LSD were carried on by the CIA in the late fifties and early sixties.  Stanford and UC Berkeley for instance were running programs in the mid-sixties running ads in the newspapers for volunteers as this was happening in NYC.

So who would have been the beneficiaries of knowledge obtained by these Jewish Dr. Feelgoods who had very large supplies of amphetamines, cocaine which wasn’t too common in ‘66 and was definitely illegal, LSD was just being made illegal, and who knows what experimental drugs?  It could have been conducted under the auspices of the US Government agencies who were researching mind control.  But the information most likely was going two ways- one to the US authorities, the other way to Jewish psychological ops who could draw their own conclusions for their own purposes.  Let’s face it old drugs have been made available while new drugs are invented everyday and find easy distribution so every young person has had his or her consciousness altered beyond recognition.

At any rate with all those doctors with crowded waiting rooms the buzz over New York City must have been audible for miles and miles.  And all that didn’t include freelancers like Brigit Berlin of the Andy Warhol crowd.

Edie Sedgwick: Maid Of Constant Sorrow

by

R.E. Prindle

Chapter 15

We are now at the beginning of June 1966.  Life was careening very fast for Edie, Andy and Bob.  Oddly enough all three were headed for life threatening experiences.  The first to take a hit was Dylan.  He had his famous spill from his motorcycle in July of that summer.  His back wheel locked up sending him flying over the handlebars.  It has never been made clear how badly he was hurt or if he was even hurt at all but he was observed in a neck brace so a report that he had a cracked vertebra in his neck may be accurate.  He may have come within an ace then of being paralyzed from the neck down or killed.

It seems to me unlikely that the rear wheel accidentally locked up.  As Dylan was one whose conduct from, say, ‘63 to ‘66  should have made him a lot of enemies it seems likely that someone was seeking revenge.  There are strong indications if not evidence that Andy Warhol was the most likely candidate.

Andy was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve but my thinking after reading extensively and thinking deeply is that in his own way Andy was deeply in love with Edie.  Given his homosexuality there was apparently no way for him to express his feelings to her.  Edie on her part remarked to Dylan that she had really tried to get close to Andy.  While Andy strove to appear indifferent he expressed his resentment at David Weisman and his movie Ciao Manhattan that exploited Edie’s fame while destroying whatever was left of her reputation.

At the same time too he resented Dylan for purloining Edie and then discarding her.  Andy was controlled by the notion that there was no stopping a person from following their bent or as he put it:  How do you stop someone from doing what they want to do.  Indeed, all one can do is step out of the way and let them do it.  Thus, while the attitude is callous he was heard to remark that if Edie was going to commit suicide he hoped that she let him film it.  The logic is not unreasonable but the attitude comes across cold.

Bob Dylan

As Edie seemed intent on going with Dylan Andy felt that there was no way to stop her.  It never occurred to him that he himself was exploiting her by using her in his movies.  As he saw it he was creating avenues to success for his people and it was up to them to create their own opportunities from that fame.  Not too much different than he was doing for himself.  It apparently never occurred to him that none of his people had the talent to do anything on their own although some did try.

He does not seem to have been aware that what was fame for him was mere notoriety for them.  He had merely created a clubhouse for drugged out buffoons.  Thus when things began to fall apart in mid-’66 when the mise en scene began to be broken up by Andy’s trip to Hollywood his entourage was merely dispersed with no direction home.

The case with Ondine was as pathetic as that with Edie.  With the accession of Paul Morrissey and Fred Hughes who encouraged Andy to drop the whole A-head and Silver Factory crowd which they correctly saw as a liability the Silver Factory’s days were numbered.  This was made easier by the end of ‘67 when Warhol was advised that his lease would not be renewed.  Everyone was told there would be no place for them at the new quarters.  The Factory building was subsequently torn down in 1969 to make room for the Dag Hammerskjold project.

For Ondine who was completely burned out by the amphetamines this was disastrous.  He ended up at the post office for a while then tried to capitalize on his notoriety by stealing a film in which he starred from Andy trying to make money by exhibiting it while lecturing on his Factory days.  He was apparently pathetic while Andy turned his back on him without a thought.

Gerard Malanga

The same was true of Gerard Malanga who was dumped in 1967.  Andy’s treatment of this most competent and valuable assistant is a real blot on his record.  Malanga was a man of some talent and ability.  I don’t think much of poetry but Malanga has a position in the NYC poetry scene.  He introduced Andy into a milieu beneficial to him that he would not have known otherwise.

At a time when Andy was turning his art in the direction of multiple copies, essentially posters, Malanga who was knowledgeable  in silk screening taught Andy the process.  I am of the opinion that Gerard was essentially a collaborator in Warhol’s art.  He assisted in the screening contributing skill and know how while undoubtedly making good suggestions.  Of course he followed Andy’s lead.  All this time he was paid only the minimum wage so, in a sense, he sacrificed a half dozen of his most valuable  years for little recompense and as it turned out nothing in the way of thanks.  In 1967 he went to Italy in an attempt to further his fortunes.  While there he ran out of money having no way to pay his fare home.  Andy refused his pleas for help, so Gerard who was completely familiar with Andy’s process of selecting photographs, such as the Presleys, selected a photo of Che Guevara and screened a few copies representing them as genuine Warhols.  From my point of view they were authentic Warhols produced without the Master’s hand but still, perhaps, genuine.

When art authorities checked with Warhol, Andy dropped the ball.  He should have confirmed them as no one could tell the difference and rescued Gerard.  Instead he made Gerard guilty of art fraud which gave Gerard some very trying moments with the Italian authorities.  Gerard made it back to New York but now having served as Warhol’s apprentice during his twenties, at thirty he had no marketable skills while being essentially a convicted criminal.    Having no other recourse and some rights in my estimation,  he expropriated, as the Leftist criminals used to say, some of Andy’s multiples and sold them.  In a way in Andy’s mind this acknowledged  his primacy and he didn’t press charges but he did disavow authentic prints as genuine.

We now move to ‘68, Andy under the influence of Morrissey and Hughes while forced to change quarters as his former space was condemned, disavowed the whole former Factory crowd telling them to get lost, that they were no longer welcome at the new Factory.

You can’t do this without making a large number of enemies.  Andy just before his shooting was not so popular a fellow.  And we are not quite there yet.

Edie going into the last half of ‘66 and into ‘67 was in dire straits.  She was now completely unable to function without amphetamines.  Cut off from all sources of income she was forced into thievery to support her habit.  She was caught and did time.  She was to spend more time at public mental hospitals that were quite unlike the posh Silver Hill of Connecticut.  One can only guess the effect this disastrous series of events, a series with no seeming end,  had on her psychology.  Or perhaps we can get a glimmer from the biker group she hung out when she returned to Santa Barbara after the stunning humiliation of Ciao Manhattan.  There she became a biker chick offering herself to all comers for a dose of drugs.  Certainly her self-respect had been obliterated.  Certainly she no longer thought she had any value as a human being.  The mind can only be battered so much before it gives way.  The men in her life had treated her shamefully, her father, Fuzzy, Warhol and Dylan as well as her evil mentor, Chuck Wein.

If, as claimed in the movie Factory Girl, her father had sexual relations with her as a young girl then his obligations extended much further than a paltry allowance that he cut off .  Then he is morally liable for her degradation.  If as Warhol thought there was no way to stop someone from doing what they want to do, then he was under no obligation to provide the ways and means.  In all probability in the environment of NYC of the early and mid-sixties Edie would have drifted into amphetamines anyway.  Indeed, as Andy said, Edie was a regular patron of the feel good doctor, Roberts.

Roberts was a licensed physician as was that other chief Dr. Feelgood, Max Jacobson.  Doesn’t society have to obligation to protect its citizens from charlatans and quacks?  Didn’t they throw some poor innocent Jim Bakker in jail because they disliked his religion?  Didn’t society pursue hapless marijuana smokers and criminalize them by the thousands?  Can the doctors actually claim they didn’t know the deleterious effects of amphetamines when they had the example of the most notorious amphetamine user ever, Adolf Hitler, before them?

Even if they tried they were still were medical malpractitioners and criminally liable.  Read this quote from Edie by Jean Stein for an account of these doctors’ methods and practices.  This is absolutely terrifying.  There is a problem with Stein and Plimpton however.  Apparently there was no Dr. Charles Roberts; Roberts is a name substituted by Stein to ‘protect’ the real doctor, who in any event would likely have been discredited c. 1968 when the Dr. Feelgoods were finally discountenanced.  Also there may be confusion with the Dr. Robert, without an ‘s’ of the Beatles’ song.  He was apparently Dr. Robert Feynman, a sixty year old man who was discredited in 1968.  In any event since Stein and Plimpton didn’t announce the name change their whole history of Edie is compromised more than somewhat.  Who knows what edits the two authors made.   To quote the account, p.261, Edie:

Joel Schmacher reporting:

Joel Schumacher

I’ll give a description of what it was like to go to Dr. Roberts.  The time is two-thirty in the afternoon.  I’m going back for my second shot of the day.  I open the door.  There are twenty-five people in the waiting room; businessmen, beautiful teenagers on the floor with long hair playing guitars, pregnant women with babies in their arms, designers, actors, models, record people, freaks, non-freaks…waiting.  Everyone is waiting for a shot, so the tension in the office is beyond belief.

Lucky you, being a special Dr. Roberts person who can whip right in without waiting.  Naturally there’s a terrible resentful, tense moment as you rush by because you’re going to get your shot.

You attack one of the nurses.  By that I mean you grab her and say, “Listen, Susan!  Give me a shot!”  You’re in the corridor with your pants half off, ready to get the shot in your rear.  Meanwhile Dr. Roberts comes floating by.  Dr. Roberts has had a few shots already, right?  So in the middle of this corridor he decides to tell you his complete plan to rejuvenate the entire earth.  It’s a thirteen part plan, but he has lots of time to tell it to you, and as the shots start to work-Susan having given it to you- you have lots of time to listen.

In Dr. Roberts’s room would be Edie…so thin that she cannot be given her shots standing up; she has to lie down on her stomach.  It was a big shot- all those vitamins, niacin, methedrine. God knows what else- for a little girl she has  to take it lying down.

Meanwhile everyone who’s back in the corridor for the second or third time that day complains that the shots they received that morning haven’t worked.  Out in the waiting room you can hear the people complaining that they haven’t even received their first shot yet.

And Dr. Roberts is still going on.  In the middle of his thirteen-part plan he decides to tell you about a movie he saw on television…in detail.  You however, are telling him your ideas for whatever you are going to do.  But then Dr. Roberts begins to describe his idea for a plastic Kabuki house.  Someone else is showing his sketches for redesigning the Boeing 707 with a psychedelic interior.  Big doings at Dr. Roberts all the time.

Now you decide to go back out through the waiting room, right?  Now you have all the time in the world.  Life is a breeze.  You’ve used the sun lamp, I mean, you were in a great rush when you came in; now, finally, you decide you’ll leave.

But there in the room are all these people who are not Dr. Roberts special people and who still haven’t been served.  They’re there to spend as much money as you have, but they’re not part of the “in” crowd.  So they’re drifting off into craziness because they haven’t gotten their shots.  A couple of people are wandering around…their poor systems are so riddled with the methedrine they got half an hour ago they feel is not working that they’ve come back for what Dr. Roberts call “the booster.”  The basic Dr. Roberts shot goes for from ten dollars to fifteen dollars.  As your resistance to the drug gets to the point of diminishing returns, you move on up.  There is a big shot for twenty-five dollars, and if it doesn’t work you go right back and get the “the booster’ for five dollars.  That’s what some of these poor people are doing- standing out there waiting for the booster.  But  you …you are flying high, having just had your twenty-five dollar special, and you walk out ino the outer office and say:  “Hi, Oh, hi! What a beautiful sweater!  Gee you look wonderful!  How are you?  Oh, hi!  Isn’t it wonderful to see you!  What’s happening?”

Before leaving, I’d often go and find Edie in Dr. Roberts’ sauna.  If we’d been up all night on drugs, the sauna and steam-bath were wonderful things.  We’d go and walk for blocks and blocks…just be together, because we didn’t know what we were saying half the time.

The speed thing was so wonderful because everyone was walking around scared to death…scared because they couldn’t sustain the pace.  And so these shots from Dr. Roberts and all those other speed doctors gave you a false sense of being together.  You cold face everybody when you went out at night.  You could dance all night.  It was like “the answer.”  Nobody knew much about speed in those days.

Once Edie’s mother came to Dr. Roberts!  I remember she was on crutches.  She looked like Betty Crocker-gray hair with a little hairnet, a blue print dress, and little glasses.  She looked like a librarian from the Mid-west standing next to Edie with her cut-off blond hair with the dark roots, thigh-high boots, and mini-skirt, and a kind of chubby fur jacket that looked like it was made out of old cocker spaniels.  There they were- the two of them.  Mrs. Sedgwick had come to see if Dr. Roberts was taking good care of her little girl…and I guess the parents paid for her treatment.  It cost a lot for those shots.

I’m not sure I trust Joel’s memories but that is sure good speed freak talk.  Love it.  And then there’s this from Cherry Vanilla, p. 265:

I became like an acid queen.  I loved it.  My looks got crazier and crazier.  I started getting into things like pink wigs, teasing them up to make them real big and like bubbles.  I’d wear goggle glasses and real crazy make-up: spidery lashes and white lips, and micro-minis.  I saw a micro-mini on Edie and immediately started cutting everything off.  Kenneth Jay Lane earrings.  Big Robert Indiana LOVE earrings, giant love paintings on my ears.  Little bikini undies, a band around the top; and we made these silver dresses that were just silver strings hanging on us.  I was surrounded by a lot of gay boys in designing and decorating who would always give me a hand in pulling some look together.  I would go out half-naked with see through things.  You took a scarf and wrapped it around  you and thought you were dressed.

I gave Dr. Roberts a shot once.  In the ass, in his office about five o’ clock in the morning.  I had been playing records at Aux Puce- I was the disc jockey there- and he had come around to visit and said, “If you come back to my office with me, I’ll give you a shot.”  It was a freebie, which was nice because those shots were not cheap.

I really got into having a needle in my ass.  Just the feeling of it.  You get the shot, then this taste in your mouth, and you get a rush and you knew you were getting high.  It was all very sexual in a way, and very “in” and social and stylish to do it.  So I went back to his office with him and I gave him one and he gave me one.

I don’t know what he shot me up with, but it was something I had certainly never had before.  I was really very numbed.  Maybe it was cocaine.  Sometimes he would shoot you with LSD.  You never knew what he was going to shoot you with.  So we got involved in a rather heavy sex encounter.

All of a sudden there was blood everywhere.  I was bleeding like crazy.  He laughed and said, “Oh, I think you should go and see a doctor.”  Very bizarre.  I started freaking out.  I thought, “Oh, my God, this man has done something to me..  He’s killed me.  I’m going to die here in his office, all shot up with drugs, and it’s going to be a disgrace and terrible.”  I told him I had to get out.  He said, “No, no, you can’t leave.  I’ll fix you.  I’ll give you a shot.”  I said, “No, no, no more shots!”  I got dressed.  I never thought he was going to let me out.  Perhaps he was scared I would go to the police.

When I did get out, I ran around the corner to Aux Puces.  Some of the staff used to hang out there very late at night taking LSD.  Sure enough, they were there.  We called doctors.  We couldn’t get anybody.  Then the bleeding began to subside suddenly- about seven in the morning.  I never actually knew what happened.  I had been cut inside- scratched with something, fingernails or jewelry…probably by accident.  I think we both just got carried away.

Exciting times.  And finally we have this from Edie.  This is a transcript from Ciao Manhattan.

It’s hard to choose between the climactic ecstasies of speed and cocaine.  They’re similar.  Oh, they are so fabulous.  That fabulous sexual exhilaration.  Which is better, coke or speed?”  It’s hard to choose.  The purest speed, the purest coke, and sex is a deadlock.

Speeding and booze.  That gets funny.  You get chattering at about fifty miles an hour over the downdraft, and booze kind of cools it.  It can get very funny.  Utterly ridiculous.  It’s a good combination for a party.  Not for an orgy, though.

Speedball!  Speed and heroin.  That was the first time I had a shot in each arm.  Closed my eyes.  Opened my arms.  Closed my fists, and jab, jab.  A shot of cocaine and speed, and a shot of heroin.  Stripped off all my clothes, leapt downstairs, and ran out on Park Avenue and two blocks down it before my friends caught me.  Naked. Naked as a lima bean.  A speedball is from another world.  It’s a little bit dangerous.  Pure coke, pure speed, and pure sex.  Wow!  The ultimate in climax.  Once I went over to Dr. Roberts for a shot of cocaine.  It was very strange because he wouldn’t tell me what it was, and I was playing it cool.  It was my first intravenous shot, and I said, “Well, I don’t feel it.”  And he gave me another one, and all of a sudden I went blind.  I just flipped out of my skull!  I ended up wildly balling him and flipping him out of his skull.  He was probably shot up…he was always shooting up around the corner anyway.

It would appear that Edie was very familiar with drugs and very welcoming to them.  The quote doesn’t tell us whether Edie was first introduced to amphetamines at the Factory and then found Dr. Roberts or vice-versa but we do have an environment at the factory in which Brigit Berlin walked around injecting people with or without their consent.  The question then is how innocent is Andy really.  What sort of milieu had he created for his amusement.

The Factory was a clubhouse for what were essentially lowlife homosexual drug addicts.  This must have been the overriding first impression.  As such the women had to be accessories to attract men and outsiders.    They were there essentially to be abused.  They put the Factory in bad odor.  As Andy says the police were through the Factory so often it might as well have been the precinct house.  Warhol himself was generally known as ‘that creep’ while the more respectable people thought the place poison.

Andy’s genius however did turn it into an ‘in’ place by 1966 where certain celebrities with cachet found the place exciting and for a short period gave it a certain status.

As I have pointed out Warhol was a leader in both the Homosexual Revolution and the Underman Revolution.  By late 1966, early 1967 we are not too far from the Stonewall Riot of  ‘69 that ended restriction and harassment of homosexuals in NYC and the rest of the country.  It was the end of rock n’ roll.  After  Stonewall the period began that homosexuals  called the Candy Store Era.  It was a time when anything went that ended about ten years later when AIDS made its appearance on the scene.  Of course if any of us had heard of the Stonewall Riot we would have missed its significance nor did anyone understand the astounding change that was the Candy Store Era or even know they were in it.  A sub-text of the Homosexual Revolution is the subversion of heterosexuality which goes without saying.  Thus the Factory was a prototype of the nightclub that would realize the ideal of absolutely promiscuous sex- Studio 54.  Thus as the homosexually led nightlife of the Candy Store Era developed Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager created the ultimate Factory in Studio 54.  That club was everything Andy wanted the Factory to be- a celebrity paradise.  The place was filled with celebrities, sexual perversion and drugs.  All inhibitions were down.  Studio 54 became Andy’s clubhouse where he spent his nights as a voyeur.

Rubell and Schrager were not overly discreet so that the Feds, at least, were onto them from the beginning although NYC authorities must have been paid off as they didn’t harass the club.  At Studio 54 the Undermen forged a very destructive attack on elite White America.  According to Anthony Haden-Guest in his book, Studio 54, a concerted assault was made to corrupt prep school youth- boys and girls by using drugs, liquor and sex.  According to Haden-Guest the conspirators were quite successful in debasing both boys and girls in much the same manner Edie had been debauched under Warhol’s tutelage.

This raises the question again of how innocent Andy really was.  His competitor Bob Dylan is supposed to have hated Andy for debauching Edie but that may have been the pot calling the kettle black.

Andy’s record of the treatment of women is not good but in keeping with the homosexual ethos.   The gays dislike women as competitors, as they believe, for men’s favors.  While not considering themselves psychotic they believe that if there were no women all men would be theirs.  The irrationality of the belief shall pass without comment.  Hence they imitate women to attract men.  An inevitable  consequence of their attitude is the need to debase and humiliate women.

While being of this mindset Andy as the little Ruthenian immigrant boy who was himself humiliated and rejected by the upper crust of  Pittsburgh found delight in debasing and humiliating upper crust women.  This runs through his whole career.  Edie came from a very old American family that was very prominent in both Stockbridge, Massachusetts, Boston, from whence they arose and New York City.  Her father had moved West from New York only shortly before she was born.  Although raised as a half wild girl on a vast ranch near Santa Barbara Edie could claim to be a New York society girl.  Indeed, her grandmother still maintained her position on the East Side.

While Andy may indeed have loved Edie it was probably more for her background than for herself.  The prize of an Anglo-American princess must have been beyond Andy’s juvenile dreams.  Indeed, it was through her that Andy first tasted any social success.  If they were inseparable during that glorious summer of ‘65 it was because Andy was basking in Edie’s social glamour.  And yet one doesn’t find reverence or respect for Edie as a person.  Andy allowed her to pick up the check at expensive restaurants not only for himself but his whole entourage of freeloaders.  As these were all Underclass people you may be sure they took full advantage of her largesse.  I am perhaps a trifle old fashioned but to me this is unforgivable in Andy.

While Andy may have been hard pressed financially to maintain his large and growing establishment there appears to have been no gratitude for Edie relieving the strain.  As his entourage grew Andy began to yearn for a restaurant where he could exchange art for food and drink.  This was provided in 1966, after Edie was out of favor, when Mickey Ruskin opened Max’s Kansas City in December of ‘65.

The rest of women at the Factory were treated with disrespect although they submitted to it with stoic resignation.  One reads with horror the treatment of Viva in Tucson during the filming of Warhol’s cowboy parody and putdown, once again a homosexual extravaganza.

And then there was the ever present sado-masochism that permeated the Factory.  An acceptance and celebration of the perversion.  The attitude was expressed successfully in the films of Paul Morrissey begun while Warhol was recuperating from Valerie Solanas’ assault.  With Andy unable to interfere Morrissey quickly turned out the movie Flesh with Joe Dallesandro which turned out to be a success in Germany.  This gave Andy confidence and Morrissey produced several more movies among them Flesh For Frankenstein.  I have no intention of reviewing the movie here but certain barbarities of the French arch-sadist Gilles de Rais were celebrated.

Women of some prominence played roles in the nude while performing sexually deviant acts.  This rather negative attitude toward women was reflected all through the history of the various Factorys carried on in the most degrading circumstances.

To add insult to injury when Edie was actually falling into her psychological abyss Andy shot The Andy Warhol Story with Rene Ricard and Edie in which both expressed their hatred and revulsion of Andy.  ( http://.warholstars.org/warhol/warhol1/warhol1f/warhol.html )

So by this time she had  been debased more than any man or woman should ever be debased.  Edie herself lay her destruction at the feet of Andy, the great facilitator, the sado-masochistic  doyen of New York.  I think Andy, then bears a great deal of responsibility for Edie’s shame.

Now, it will be noted.  The Andy Warhol Story was filmed at about the same time as his Bob Dylan Story so Edie and Dylan were connected in Andy’s mind.

As I said Warhol and his troupe left for LA in May of ‘66 after a successful month of the EPI.  When he returned to resume this lucrative enterprise he found that his hall, the Dom, had been leased from under him by- Albert Grossman and Bob Dylan.  They turned it into a venue inanely named The Balloon Farm.  Another act of plagiarism by Dylan.  I think this was too much for Warhol.  First Edie and then the Dom.  This was surely provocation asking for trouble, demanding it.

Now, if you’ve watched the post-1968 Warhol movie Bad how far is it from Bad to conjecture that Andy and his crew were responsible for Dylan’s accident?  Bad concerns a woman who runs a clearing house for dirty deeds written by Andy’s amanuensis, Pat Hackett.  Andy had to have been angry at Dylan and Grossman and indeed he filmed a put down of the two.  Quoting Warholstars.org:

Sterling Morrison of the Velvet Underground:

Paul Caruso

“Dylan was always around, giving Nico songs.  There was one film Andy made with Paul Caruso called The Bob Dylan Story.  I don’t think Andy has ever shown it.  It was hysterical.  They got Marlowe Dupont to play Al Grossman.  Paul Caruso not looks like Bob Dylan but as a super caricature he makes even Hendrix look pale by comparison.  This was around 1966 when the film was made and his hair was way out to here…On the eve of the filming, Paul had a change of heart and got his hair cut off- close to his head and he must have removed about a foot so everyone was upset about that.  Then Dylan had his accident and that is why the film was never shown.”

So, in July smarting from the indignities imposed on him by Dylan and Grossman Andy was making a ‘hilarious’ film about the two.  Perhaps Andy thought that was not enough so somewhere during the filming, one conjectures, he conceived this motorcycle rigging.  Thus, in late July Dylan went over the handlebars when his rear wheel locked.  Anything could have happened to him from paralysis to death.  As it was he fractured his neck coming within an ace of serious injury.

Andy hadn’t finished with The Bob Dylan Story.  He wanted to work in the accident.  Probably aggrieved at Dylan’s survival Andy recommenced the film in October of ‘66 probably with the Andy Warhol Story starring Edie in mind.

Warholstars once again:

Susan Pile

Susan Pile speaking:

Andy filmed the Bob Dylan Story starring Paul Caruso…Ingrid Superstar and I were folkrock groupies who rushed in (to Paul Caruso) attacked his body and taped him to the motorcycle…Paul Morrissey suggested all of Paul Caruso’s  lines be from songs, but Andy, knowing it was a good idea (this is a direct relay from Paul Morrissey) vetoed it…My one line (what I wasn’t supposed to say; I was to remain mutely sinister) was “You’re just like P.F. Sloan and all the rest- you want to become famous so you can get rid of those pimples.” (accompanied by quick slaps to P. Caruso’s acne remnanted cheeks.)…

So, what do we have here?  Bear in the mind the subject matter of Bad which is a very violent movie of revenges made in the most casual manner.  Morrison’s account is given before the accident while Pile’s is after.

Pile and Ingrid attack Caruso/Dylan and mockingly tape him to the motorcycle so that he can’t fall off.  (ha, ha, ha).  Pile then delivers a devastating putdown comparing Dylan unfavorably to P.F. Sloan.  Sloan was the guy who wrote the puerile Eve Of Destruction that was very near  to being a humorous parody of Dylan’s songs such as Blowin’ In The Wind.  If Dylan had seen the film he would likely have been enraged.  Pile than calls Dylan’s song ‘pimple music’ another put down as rock n’ roll was derisively called pimple music because teenagers had pimples.  And then Caruso/Dylan is physically abused by having his face slapped while being unable to retort because he is taped to the bike.

Psychologically then what Andy is saying is that he felt the filching of Edie as a slap in the face while when he was in LA he was unable to foil the filching of the Dom.

This combination of Dylan and the motorcycle in a film called The Bob Dylan Story points clearly to Andy as the perp.

And so the final chapter will concern the filming of Ciao Manhattan and the demise of Edie.  I have some other work to be done so there will be a delay before Chapter 16 appears.