On September 18, 1974, a new group calling itself PILL staged a press conference before an audience of nearly two hundred press and public in the regal Georgian Room of the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco. PILL was an acronym for the damning full title: People Investigating Leary’s Lies. At the height of the Sixties, a group with such a mission would surely have consisted of outraged parents, gubernatorial hopefuls, and over-the-hill celebrities chasing down the spotlight while bemoaning the corruption of the country’s youth. But this group was made up of those who’d been Tim’s allies all along. Now, however, instead of chanting, “Free Tim Leary!” his former supporters were denouncing him as a turncoat.
PILL was organized after it was learned that Tim and Joanna Leary had set up their lawyer and friend George Chula to get busted. Chula was known for his legal defense of counterculture figures, including Leary, and the feds wanted him. On September 4, 1974, Joanna—who had worked with the DEA to record Chula giving her drugs—testified against him before an Orange County grand jury. When asked why she was testifying, Joanna, visibly coked up and high during the trial, claimed, “Because the first year I spent in this country, I met a lot of people who were part of the drug culture. . . . I found ninety-nine percent of them to be dishonest, lying people.” Tim backed up Joanna’s testimony by saying that Chula had smuggled hash to him in prison. The next day, Chula’s office was raided by narcotics agents and he was arrested.
The day after Chula was busted an interview with Tim appeared in the Los Angeles Times. The interview spotlighted the new stance Tim had taken. It was his public justification for working as an informant: “Secrecy and cover-up are destructive and dangerous and I wanted to become part of the process of reconciliation and openness that is the spirit of the times.” Further, Tim said that the Sixties was a “time when the public forum was captured by the crazies of the left and the crazies of the right. I never felt I was a criminal, and I never dealt drugs. I am still a scientist, I feel, and I want to make a contribution.” The headline of the article read, “Leary, ‘Former King of LSD,’ Tells Radicals: ‘War is Over.’”
Abbie Hoffman, among many other Sixties compatriots, saw Tim’s turn in a different light. In a letter written during this time, Hoffman wrote, “I’m digesting the news of Herr Doktor Leary, the swine. . . . It’s obvious to me he’s talked his fucking demented head off to the Gestapo. . . . God, Leary is disgusting. It’s not just a question of being a squealer but a question of squealing on people who helped you. . . . The curses crowd my mouth . . . Timothy Leary is a name worse than Benedict Arnold.”
It was in this spirit that the PILL press conference was organized. Journalist and Berkeley Barb editor Ken Kelley introduced the group as “a loosely devised network of concerned individuals and investigators banded together in the last two weeks. We are simply fed up with being victimized by the government’s conspiracy mongering and its attempts to shatter the cohesiveness of the left.” Kelley continued, “By setting up Timothy Leary as a government agent, the Justice Department is using the same old divide-and-conquer, red-baiting ploys it has used in the Palmer Raids, the McCarthy Hearings, the Rosenberg case, and the Watergate Plumbers.”
Supporting Kelley’s opening statements was a petition signed by more than a hundred high-profile members of the counterculture, stating, “We condemn the terrible pressures brought to bear by the government on people in the prisons in this country. . . . We also denounce Timothy Leary for turning state’s evidence and marking innocent people for jail in order to get out of jail himself.”
Seated alongside Kelley were Yippie founder Jerry Rubin, Dick Alpert, Allen Ginsberg, and Leary’s own son, Jack. One after another, the panelists denounced Leary’s cooperation with the feds and condemned the government for its relentless pursuit of Sixties figures. Rubin said of Leary, “I know from personal experience with him over the past ten years that he never had a firm grasp of where truth ended and fantasy began. He used words and sentences for their effect, not for their internal truth.” He also emphasized, “In breaking him in prison and turning him into an agent, the government is consciously trying to spread fear, cynicism, and despair among young people. ‘See what kind of person your guru Tim Leary is,’ they are saying. ‘You cannot trust him.’ I deeply regret that Tim Leary is allowing himself to be used.”
Tim’s former Harvard colleague and staunch supporter, Richard Alpert, now renamed Ram Dass by his Indian guru, denounced Leary as a “scoundrel.” However, most damning was the testimony from Tim’s son, Jack Leary. The only panelist not accustomed to public speaking, Jack spoke slowly, haltingly, noting that “I have always gone out of my way in the past to avoid publicity. But I feel compelled to come forward now because Timothy is engaged in a very dangerous action which can destroy the lives of many of his former friends and associates.”
Like Rubin, Jack noted that this turn was not uncharacteristic for Tim. In fact, Jack’s only surprise was that “he didn’t do this two or three years ago.” He corroborated that Tim “lies when he thinks it will benefit him. He finds lies easier to control than the truth.” Reflecting the concern for their own freedom that many of Tim’s former allies felt, Jack said, “It would not surprise me if he would testify about my sister or myself if he could. He has already implicated my sister in his escape. Knowing this, I have avoided visiting him in prison, in order to have as little to do with him as possible.” Jack concluded by stating, “I do not believe by this statement that I am in any way betraying Timothy’s trust. Rather, Timothy Leary, by his deceit, is betraying the very meaning of the word trust.”
True to form, of all those speaking up about the situation, Allen Ginsberg gave the most measured statement. And the most poetic. Rather than give a formal statement, Allen wrote and recited, “Om Ah Hum: 44 Temporary Questions on Dr. Leary.” While not letting Leary off the hook completely, the poem raised more questions than it answered and made it clear that Allen had not written Tim off yet. In fact, no matter how often Tim might have disappointed—or even publicly insulted—him, Allen would never completely abandon Tim.
Om Ah Hum: 44 Temporary Questions on Dr. Leary
1. Trust. (Should we stop trusting our friends like in a Hotel room in Moscow?)
2. Is he a Russian-model prisoner brought into courtroom news conferences blinking in daylight after years in jails and months incommunicado in solitary cells with nobody to talk to but thought-control police interrogators?
3. Is his head upside down?
4. Will we indulge in cannibalism, eating his mind?
5. Isn’t it common sense to turn the other cheek to his forced confessions?
6. What advice give young on L.S.D. (Try it with healthy mind body and speech!)
7. No L.S.D. Cactus mushroom teachers needed now in Cities, isn’t Lady Psychedelia big enough to teach by herself with all her Granny-Wisdom?
8. Is it déjà-vu, Leary’s forced confession so outrageous—are all my serious prefaces to his books and imperious anti-thought-control declarations reduced to rubbish?
9. “Flow along with the Natural errors of things.” Old Chinese wisdom and sense of humor. Will this be harder for those caught in Leary’s new truthfulness & new lying?
10. Isn’t his new truthfulness a lie to please the police to let him go?
11. Is he like Zabbathi Zvi the False Messiah, accepted by millions of Jews centuries ago, who left Europe for the Holy Land, was captured by the Turks on his way, told he’d have his head cut off unless he converted to Islam, and so accepted Allah? Didn’t his followers split into sects some claiming it was a wise decision?
12. Isn’t there an element of humor in Leary’s new twist?
13. Doesn’t he recently hear of voices from outer space, does he want to leave earth like a used-up eggshell? Has he given up on the planet?
14. Is he finally manifesting an Alchemical Transformation of consciousness?
15. Is there more police space henceforth, no opposition allowed?
16. Are not the police, especially drug police, corrupt and scandal-ridden, Watergate person like Liddy & Mardian connected with his long persecution,/ urban narcs sealing and peddling heroin?
17. Is Leary on his way to outer space in Space Ship Terra II still?
18. What of the rumors and messages heard last spring that brain conditioner experiment drugs were to be administered to Leary in Vacaville prison, where such experiments were common?
19. Isn’t it clear that no friend has spoken with Leary personally recently, he’s been shifted prison to prison, his lawyers can’t reach him, he’s been incommunicado sequestered for “confessions” surrounded by government agents & informers no one else hears from him?
20. Is Joanna Harcourt-Smith his one contact spokes-agent a sex spy, agent provocateuse, double-agent, CIA hysteric, jealous tigress, or what?
21. What was Joanna’s role, isolating him from decade-old supporters and friends, using up all his crucial legal defense money? Remember when I suggested to Leary that she might be some sort of police agent he turned to her asking, “What do you say?” She looked at him and answered “He hates women.” Folsom Prison Spring 1973?
22. Shouldn’t police give up their case as preposterous and remember that 410,000 other Americans were busted for pot in 1973?
23. Wasn’t Leary trusted by many people who contributed to his legal defense funds, wrote declarations, lectured and sang moneyraising in defense of his professional & constitutional rights as a psychologist experimenting new research field?
25. Didn’t he turn in his own Lawyer for bringing him pot in jail, is that a light matter like 50-dollar fine, or jail & disbarment?
26. Is Leary exaggerating and lying to build such confused cases and conspiracies that the authorities will lose all the trials he witnesses, & he’ll be let go in the confusion?
27. Where has Leary’s humor gone? Did he ever claim to be priest except to escape obnoxious law? Is he messianic? Can his word be trusted in court? Can President Ford’s? Or the entire Government’s?
28. Will it end that all the victims of his song are his lawyers?
29. Will there be more political trials like those of Spock, Berrigan, Chicago 7, Ellsberg, collapsible conspiracy entrapments of bohemian left by right-wing government fanatics left over from Watergate conspiracy? More domestic police violence against non-alcoholic teaheads? Government prosecutors who have Leary by the balls for smoking pot, like Guy Goodwin, do they drink cocktails?
30. Does Leary see himself spiritual president like Nixon, & is he trying to clean the Karma blackboard by creating a hippie Watergate? Will he be pardoned by the next guru?
31. Is the Government-announced change on Leary’s part rational, objective, free and calm—or angry fearful suffering jail too long?
32. Will Leary’s documentary confession film be seen by friends in theater or courtroom?
33. Speaking of Acid Capitalism, Leary was too broke to fund his very solid legal appeals, thousands of people including myself contributed too little to see it to successful conclusion, so who makes money on acid and grass, men in jail, or their jailers and prosecutors? How many millions $ have the police spent entrapping Leary?
34. Prosecutors like Goodwin to whom Leary sings, have conducted witch-hunts with False Witnesses before, is it not?
35. Did anybody ever hear of the need to hide Leary incommunicado to protect him from his old friends who might harm him, except from police mouths? Is it not police mind naiveté that imagines “contracts” on his body?
36. Would the Government agree to public symposium (such as this) & Leary free to present his new thoughts to old friends in press conference in calm manysided discussion, to clear the air of false & forced confession? Must his changes be announced by remote control from secret rooms through selected media contacts, or via videotape screens behind which no friend can look?
37. Wasn’t it amazing to begin with, prophetic mix of Liddy & Leary at Millbrook in mid sixties, and Liddy’s dozens of illegal raids!?
38. Are there any police here at the press conference?
39. America, must I examine my conscience?
40. In the gaspetroleum ballgames are the police winning a metaphysical victory?
41. Will more citizens be arrested and taken to jail as was Leary?
42. What will Kissinger say? Will he also be arrested for conspiring “more than 8 million $” Chile subversion lying & Allende killed?
43. Will citizens be arrested indicted taken to jail for Leary’s freedom?
44. Doesn’t the old cry “Free Tim Leary!” apply now urgent as ever?
From the time of Tim’s original imprisonment until his final release in April 21, 1976, Allen continued to write letters to Tim, worked to keep his case visible, and fought for his release. In January 1975, Allen submitted a sworn affidavit stating that, since Tim had been out of touch with basically all of his previous friends and supporters, except for Joanna, he had “strong suspicions that Dr. Leary is being held incommunicado at least to some extent against his free will, and I am convinced that the only way to determine whether or not this is true, and whether or not Dr. Leary really needs and wants assistance, legal or otherwise, is to arrange an opportunity for him to confer with counsel, and/or friends, free from interference from or eavesdropping by authorities of the government, in order that Dr. Leary might feel free to indicate whether he needs and wants assistance, and whether or not his rights have been and are being violated.” Allen concluded the affidavit by stating, “I am prepared to be one of those persons who should be authorized to visit with Dr. Leary.”
During Tim’s final incarceration, Allen had, in fact, been one of the few old compatriots who had actually seen and spoken to him. In 1973, Allen and Lawrence Ferlinghetti visited Tim in Folsom Prison. They drove there from San Francisco in a two-tone VW bus. At the time, Tim had just been moved from “the adjustment center,” where he was housed between Geronimo Pratt, the Black Panther who spent twenty-seven years in jail for a murder conviction that was eventually overturned, and Charles Manson. Although they had polar opposite views of the world—one dark and cynical, the other optimistic and hopeful—Tim and Charles Manson held long conversations through the wall while jailed next to each other at Folsom. Wesley Hiler, a prison psychologist who knew them both, said, “They liked each other very much. But they were both on big power trips. They were both megalomaniacs and both felt they were, sort of, supermen. They exaggerated their uniqueness; they believed in their powers. Yet they were quite different. Leary was not at all psychotic.”
When Allen and Lawrence showed up at Folsom, Tim had just been moved out of solitary confinement and onto the main line. Prison officials made sure that Tim looked horrible when they met. They had crudely shaved his head so that his skull was covered with nicks and blood, and, unlike the setup for Tim’s visits with Joanna, which were conducted across a table, they kept Tim in a glass cage during the meeting. They clearly wanted to show that Tim was now in their control. Lawrence Ferlinghetti recalled, “What I remember most clearly is Tim saying he was going to escape from Folsom by ascending straight up via LSD. He had a spaced-out enraptured look as he said it, as if he had already swallowed some acid.” Allen immediately began reciting the Heart Sutra to Tim through the glass. He and Tim had gone through a lifetime together; the rise and the fallout of the Sixties had sifted through their fingers like billions of tiny universes and reshaped the country, and their lives. Allen would do the best he could to help his old partner, but ultimately it would be Tim’s betrayal of his counterculture ideals and friends that bought him his freedom.
On April 21, 1976, Timothy Leary was released from prison. Although he was free, his reputation in the countercultural community and, certainly, the academic community had been destroyed. He was seen as having sold out the values and betrayed the trust of every group that had supported him. Immediately upon leaving prison, he began receiving death threats. Federal marshals flew him and Joanna to a secluded A-frame house in the Pecos Wilderness area of the Santa Fe National Forest in New Mexico. They were issued false names (James and Nora Joyce, after Leary’s enigmatic, beloved Irish author) and given $700 a month through the Witness Protection Program. However they soon grew restless, bored, and stifled by the isolation. They moved to San Diego only two months after landing in New Mexico.
Three months after his release from prison, Tim sat down at a typewriter in San Diego and wrote a letter to Allen. From his optimistic tone (“I’ve signed up for a college-lecture tour in the fall—and the response is most encouraging.”) to his references to the plights of fellow countercultural figures (“So we are in pretty good shape, our little band of dissenters—Solz is okay in Zurich, Sakharov is still free, Amarik has left for Israel . . . only Patty and Eldridge are left”) it sounded much like the old Timothy Leary. In a June 1976 interview with the Berkeley Barb, Tim emphatically denied testifying against the Brotherhood of Eternal Love, the Weathermen, or any of his old allies: “I did not testify against friends. I didn’t testify against what the press called ‘the vast drug conspiracy known as the Brotherhood of Eternal Love’ since that was a myth that never existed. I didn’t testify in any manner that would lead to indictments against the Weatherpeople. . . . The fact is that nobody has been arrested because of me and nobody ever will be.” In true Leary mode, he was refashioning the whole boondoggle of busts, imprisonment, federal cooperation, and the accompanying deluge of public evisceration, as if it had been nothing more than a game. In Leary’s mind, he had simply worked the system—providing the feds with useless information—to get himself free. If anything, he insisted, “When the full details of my actual testimony are known, the Weather Underground might even be grateful to me.”
Throughout his life, Timothy Leary had proved as malleable as Allen Ginsberg was steadfast. But to his credit, Leary couldn’t deny the support, comfort, and aid that Ginsberg had afforded him through his darkest struggles. He wrote to Allen: “Anyway, now that I have a typewriter and a desk I hasten to thank you Allen for your concern and help in getting me out of prison. . . . Thanks for your help. All goes well. May be in New York in the next few weeks—so I’ll phone you. Looking forward to seeing you. Long time. Timothy.”