FUCK, SHIT, CUNT, PISS / Boston Avatar -2017

Mel Lyman played banjo and harmonica for the Jim Kweskin Jug Band out of Boston in the 60s. The charismatic musician formed a neo-transcendental commune on Fort Hill in economically depressed Roxbury and in 1967 released a bi-weekly journal called AVATAR espousing the re-birth of the inner-self as reflected by the glory of Mel Lyman, who had toppe the Beatles by claiming he was God.

"Love isn't something you find, something you do, something you study. Love is something you BECOME after there is no more YOU."

I ran into several of their members in the late-60s. I was a teenager. They had no interest in someone as young as me, since I was male. I begged my father to buy property on Fort Hill. A bedraggled tenement cost a few thousand dollars. He thought that the neighborhood was a blight on Boston. They now cost $400,000-800,000. A hundred-fold return on that investment.

"Best to napalm the hill and start over again."

That was the end of my real estate career, but Lyman attracted followers and the Avatar recruited believers from around the country. https://www.splicetoday.com/ reported that at its peak, the Lyman Family numbered about 150 people, roughly three times the number associated with Manson. They settled into the ghetto neighborhood of Fort Hill, where they bought distressed houses and fixed them up, very early adapters to the concept of “flipping” real estate. They took over a newspaper and ran a printing company. Mel hated hippies and feminists. In the Lyman Family, men were men and women were women. Mel insisted that Family members present a straight, business-like appearance. Their massive consumption of LSD was legendary.

The commune expanded to several houses and the Boston police under orders from the city's judiciary sought to quell its growth by arresting the vendors selling the Avatar with the sale of obscene material. The Avatar responded with a centerfold provocatively printed with the words; FUCK, SHIT, CUNT, PISS.

According to famed defense lawyer, Harvey Silverglate the Cambridge and Boston police attempted to prosecute 80 vendors. Only five were found guilty, but their conviction's were overturn, due to the DA's inexperience with First Amendment issues and the assenting opinion of the State's Supreme Court stated that “this rather sad publication is not obscene.”

End of story and the Avatar finished its run as a mouthpiece for the beliefs of Mel Lyman. The Fort Hill commune moved into the future, but the leader passed away in April 1978.

According to Wikipedia the exact date and location are unknown.

I am going to reduce everything that stands to rubble
and then I am going to burn the rubble
and then I am going to scatter the ashes
and then maybe SOMEONE will be able to see SOMETHING as it really is WATCHOUT

$148 LEVIS by Peter Nolan Smith

My mother dressed my older brother and me in jeans for most of the 1950s and early 1960s, however when the hippies adopted the tough western trousers as part of their unofficial uniform, Cardinal Cushing of the Boston diocese banned Levis on his evening rosary program. A fierce Catholic my mother obeyed the Pope's representative refused to buy them.

One afternoon in 1966 I got off the school bus to discover her burning my treasured jeans and suede Cuban heel boots.

"No son of mine will be a slave to the Devil." she spoke with a heavy Boston accent as would anyone reared in Jamaica Plain.

"I don't worship Satan." I had tried to sell my soul on several occasions to the Fallen One without his appearing with an offer binding my eternity to Hell. The Devil like God was a myth, except in the minds of my mother and the nuns of Our Lady of the Foothills south of the Neponset River.

"He doesn't want your worship. He wants your soul."

Beelzebub also existed as a villain in many movies, but neither their belief nor Hollywood's depiction of Lucifer made him nor God real.

"I'm a good boy."

"You better be."

"Yes, ma'am." My heels of my boots added a funny color to the flames.

My mother never suspected my disbelief in God. My father was equally ignorant of my apostasy, which was a good thing, since atheism was unacceptable to the vast majority of Americans. Thankfully heretics were no longer burned at the stake, but I thought it better for my mother to think that I was a good Catholic boy.

My grade for religion at school was an A. I served as an altar boy at Mass. Latin was my second language. I earned $10 a week from my paper route. My mother banked most of it. I kept the tips and after a few weeks my savings came to almost $12.

"What are you going to do with it?", asked my best friend, Chuckie Manzi.

"Buy Levis at Walker's." the newest style cost $6 at the store opposite the Public Gardens.

"I thought your mother banned them."

"She did, but I'm unbanning them."

"Fuck the Church?"

"Yes, fuck the Church."

That Friday after school Chuckie I caught the trolley into Ashmont and then rode the Reed Line into Park Street.

We walked across the Commons into the Garden over to Walker's Western Store on Boylston Street. The store ran a radio ad on WMEX for jeans. I bought a pair of jeans. The salesman sold me a paisley shirt too. Chuckie got a buckskin jacket. Our hair was a little over our ears and we strolled over to hippie corner in the Commons to listen to a free-spirited band.

I recognized the lead singer.

The messianic leader of the Fort Hill Commune was famed for his 30 minute solo of ROCK OF AGES after Bob Dylan's electric performance at the Newport Jazz Festival of 1965. Mel Lyman blew in his harp, as longhaired girls danced in the sunshine. They smelled of patchouli.

Chuckie and I left at 5. My father was on the same train. He looked at my jeans and said, "You better change out of them before you get home."

I did in the woods behind our house and I hid the Levis in the garage. My father never snitched me out, which was a surprise for a man 30 years older than me. All he cared about was that I scored good grades and that I didn't cause my mother any problems.

My waist size back in the 60s was a 28. It's more than that now and so is the price of Levis. Most stores offer them for $40-60. I buy mine in a second-hand stall in Pattaya. They come from aid shipments to Cambodia. Americans don't realize that Cambodians don't fit into big jeans, so the relief foundations sell them to Thai traders. I pay $10 for used Levis.

A good price, however the Wall Street Journal reported that Barney's on Madison Avenue are selling American-made Levis for $148 and investment bankers are buying piles of them. I went up there to look at these high-priced jeans. They felt the same as my used jeans and the $6 jeans from Walker's Western Store.

Some things never change.

Only the price.

To hear The Lyman Family with Lisa Kindred - James Alley Blues, please go to this URL

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DuE-7U8RTA

$148 LEVIS by Peter Nolan Smith

My mother dressed my older brother and me in jeans for most of the 1950s and early 1960s, however when the hippies adopted the tough western trousers as part of their unofficial uniform, Cardinal Cushing of the Boston diocese banned Levis on his evening rosary program. A fierce Catholic my mother obeyed the Pope's representative refused to buy them.

One afternoon in 1966 I got off the school bus to discover her burning my treasured jeans and suede Cuban heel boots.

"No son of mine will be a slave to the Devilm" she spoke with a heavy Boston accent as would anyone reared in Jamaica Plain.

"I don't worship Satan." I had tried to sell my soul on several occasions to the Fallen One without his appearing with an offer binding my eternity to Hell. The Devil like God was a myth, except in the minds of my mother and the nuns of Our Lady of the Foothills south of the Neponset River.

"He doesn't want your worship. He wants your soul."

Beelzebub also existed as a villain in many movies, but neither their belief nor Hollywood's depiction of Lucifer made him nor God real.

"I'm a good boy."

"You better be."

"Yes, ma'am." My heels of my boots added a funny color to the flames.

My mother never suspected my disbelief in God. My father was equally ignorant of my apostasy, which was a good thing, since atheism was unacceptable to the vast majority of Americans. Thankfully heretics were no longer burned at the stake, but I thought it better for my mother to think that I was a good Catholic boy.

My grade for religion at school was an A. I served as an altar boy at Mass. Latin was my second language. I earned $10 a week from my paper route. My mother banked most of it. I kept the tips and after a few weeks my savings came to almost $12.

"What are you going to do with it?"asked my best friend, Chuckie Manzi.

Buy Levis at Walker's." the newest style cost $6 at the store opposite the Public Gardens.

"I thought your mother banned them."

"She did, but I'm unbanning them."

Fuck the Church?"

"Yes, fuck the Church."

That Friday after school Chuckie I took the trolley into Ashmont and then rode the Reed Line into Park Street.

We walked across the Commons into the Garden over to Walker's Western Store on Boylston Street. The store ran a radio ad on WMEX for jeans. I bought a pair of jeans. The salesman sold me a paisley shirt too. Chuckie got a buckskin jacket. Our hair was a little over our ears and we strolled over to hippie corner in the Commons to listen to a free-spirited band. <'>A hundred hippies watched a band.

We all wore jeans.

We were a tribe.

I recognized the lead singer.

The messianic leader of the Fort Hill Commune was famed for his 30 minute solo of ROCK OF AGES after Bob Dylan's electric performance at the Newport Jazz Festival of 1965. Mel Lyman blew in his harp, as longhaired girls danced in the sunshine. They smelled of patchouli. I loved the female singer. Her name was Lisa. No one at my school was named Lisa.

Chuckie and I left at 5. My father was on the same train. He looked at my jeans and said, "You better change out of them before you get home."

I did in the woods behind our house and I hid the Levis in the garage. My father never snitched me out, which was a surprise for a man 30 years older than me. All he cared about was that I scored good grades and that I didn't cause my mother any problems.

My waist size back in the 60s was a 28. It's more than that now and so is the price of Levis. Most stores offer them for $40-60. I buy mine in a second-hand stall in Pattaya. They come from aid shipments to Cambodia. Americans don't realize that Cambodians don't fit into big jeans, so the relief foundations sell them to Thai traders. I pay $10 for used Levis.

A good price, however the Wall Street Journal reported that Barney's on Madison Avenue are selling American-made Levis for $148 and investment bankers are buying piles of them. I went up there to look at these high-priced jeans. They felt the same as my used jeans and the $6 jeans from Walker's Western Store.

Some things never change.

Only the price.

To hear The Lyman Family with Lisa Kindred - James Alley Blues, please go to this URL

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DuE-7U8RTA

$148 LEVIS by Peter Nolan Smith

My mother dressed my older brother and me in jeans for most of the 1950s and early 1960s, however when the hippies adopted the tough western trousers as part of their unofficial uniform my mother refused to buy them for us. Cardinal Cushing of the Boston diocese had banned them on his evening rosary program. A fierce Catholic my mother believed that Levis and long hair were signs of Satan. One afternoon in 1966 I got off the school bus to discover her burning my treasured jeans and suede Cuban heel boots.

"No son of mine will be a slave to the Devil." She spoke with a heavy Boston accent as would anyone reared in Jamaica Plain.

"I don't worship Satan." I had tried to sell my soul on several occasions to the Fallen One without his appearing with an offer binding my eternity to Hell. The Devil like God was a myth, except for in the mind of my mother and the nuns of Our Lady of the Foothills south of the Neponset River. "He doesn't want your worship. He wants your soul." Beelzebub also existed as a villain in many movies, but neither their belief nor Hollywood's depiction of Lucifer made him nor God real. "I'm a good boy."

"You better be." "Yes, ma'am." My heels of my boots added a funny color to the flames. My mother bore no suspicion about my disbelief in her god. My father was equally ignorant of my apostasy, which was a good thing, since atheism was unacceptable to the vast majority of Americans. Thankfully heretics such as myself were no longer burned at the stake, but I thought it better for my mother to think that I was a good Catholic boy.

My grade for religion at school was an A. I served as an altar boy at Mass. Latin was my second language. I earned $10 a week from my paper route. My mother banked most of it. I kept the tips and after a few weeks my savings came to almost $12. My next door neighbor and I took the trolley into Ashmont and then the Reed Line into Park Street.

Chuckie Manzi and I walked across the Commons into the Garden over to Walker's Western Store on Boylston Street. The store ran a radio ad on WMEX for jeans. Levis were $6. I bought a pair of jeans. The salesman sold me a paisley shirt too. Chuckie got a bucksin jacket. Our hair was a little over our ears and we strolled over to hippie corner in the Commons to listen to a free-spirited band. Mel Lyman played harp. The messianic leader of the Fort Hill Commune was famed for his 30 minute solo of ROCK OF AGES after Bob Dylan's electric performance at the Newport Jazz Festival of 1965. The girls danced in the sunshine. They smelled of patchouli. Chuckie and I left at 5. My father was on the same train. He looked at my jeans and said, "You better change out of them before you get home."

I did in the woods behind our house and I hid them in the garage. My father never snitched me out, which was a surprise for a man 30 years older than me. All he cared about was that I scored good grades and that I didn't cause my mother any problems.

My waist size back in the 60s was a 28. It's more than that now and so is the price of Levis. Most stores offer them for $40-60. I buy mine in a second-hand stall in Pattaya. They come from aid shipments to Cambodia. Americans don't realize that Cambodians don't fit into big jeans, so the relief foundations sell them to Thai traders. I pay $10 for used Levis. A good price, however the Wall Street Journal reported that Barney's on Madison Avenue are selling American-made Levis for $148 and investment bankers are buying piles of them. I went up there to look at these high-priced jeans. They felt the same as my used jeans and the $6 jeans from Walker's Western Store.

Some things never change.

Only the price.

To hear The Lyman Family with Lisa Kindred - James Alley Blues, please go to this URL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezeArQMWWhA

I Fought The Law

On August 23, 1973 accidental actor Mark Frechette was arrested for bank robbery a few blocks away from Mel Lyman's commune in Boston. Boston police responded to the silent alarm and shot dead of his accomplices.. Mark threw his gun on the floor. It was unloaded. Bail was set at $2500. He didn't go to jail without a fight, but back then as now no one fought the law and won, unless you had money, and Frechette couldn't make the bail of $2500, since he had given his entire salary for ZABRISKI POINT to Mel Lyman. Those were the days.