AeroTheZealousOne
Monthly Donor
I could be a bit more vocal here, but yes, this timeline is amazing so far. Nice to see Khrushchev leave on his own terms instead of on Brezhnev's. Can't wait for more!
Blue Skies in Camelot: An Alternate 60's and Beyond
- Thread starter President_Lincoln
- Start date
I could be a bit more vocal here, but yes, this timeline is amazing so far. Nice to see Khrushchev leave on his own terms instead of on Brezhnev's. Can't wait for more!
Thank you AeroTheZealousOne!
No worries, feel free to comment whenever you have the time and inclination. I always appreciate your readership either way! Glad you can't wait for more, I can't wait to keep this thing moving!BP Booker
Banned
I did pour my heart and soul into that Animanicas Alt History Presidents song...
But seriously, HHH almost won the popular vote anyway. And I cant think of who else could get the nomination, if I remember correctly, Eugene McCarthys launching point was his anti-vietman position
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As I feel this thread is absolutely terrific, I've nominated it for the Turtledove Award for Best Cold War to Contemporary Timeline. I really think @President_Lincoln has done a superb job, despite being much younger than other writers. I hope that you'll win it!
@TheImperialTheorist, I am beyond honored to receive your nomination for the Turtledove Award!
Thank you so much! My thanks are due to @Unknown as well! Thank you for the second. I hope that as 2018 rolls on, I can keep up your enjoyment of this TL and bring it to exciting places together with all of you! Cheers!
Chapter 27
Chapter 27: Soul Man - The Coming of the Prophet
Above: Charles Milles Manson, aged 32, photographed upon release from the Federal Correctional Institution, Terminal Island, Los Angeles, California on March 21st, 1967.
Mary Brunner, a 23 year old graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, lived a fairly typical life for a young woman of her skills, education, and upbringing. A library assistant at UC-Berkeley, she had played witness to many of the ongoing protests and demonstrations there, though as of yet she hadn’t herself participated. Getting riled up about free speech, civil rights, or feminism seemed a surefire way to get herself fired. And seeing as she was a poor midwestern girl far from home, surrounded by a million potential pitfalls, Mary decided that protest was simply a risk she couldn’t afford to take.
Nonetheless, California was, as songs and zeitgeist informed her, the land of mysteries, dreams, and endless possibilities. This was particularly true in 1967. Though the “summer of love” as it came to be known had not yet bloomed from the rain and chill of a Bay-area winter, the times already were a-changin’, and something unmistakably fresh was in the air. The narrow election of Ronald Wilson Reagan to the state’s Governorship the year before had already created dramatic ripples throughout the lives of the young people living there. Especially pertinent to Mary and millions of other young women, hoping to embrace sexual liberation in the wake of recent societal changes and the example of Marilyn Monroe was Reagan’s very public opposition to abortion. Though he hadn’t yet made any moves to ban the practice, Reagan scared the youth of California for other reasons as well. While President Kennedy encouraged peaceful protesters, calling them “the pride of any healthy democracy”, Governor Reagan decried them as “the harbingers of the end of western civilization.” When the black panthers marched on the State Capitol, armed and demanding that their voices be heard by the new Governor, Reagan responded by announcing his plans to institute a ban on openly carried weapons. The culture wars had only just begun in the Golden State, and young Ms. Brunner found herself in somewhat of an uncomfortable middle position.
Mary had moved to California in the first place for the same reasons as many young people did. Her family back home had tried their best to instill in her the values of the “decent”, hardworking midwestern family, and in the process had pushed their daughter away. While completing her studies, Mary had been swayed by the works of Betty Friedan and others, and found herself believing that even if she couldn’t get involved in the fight for feminism directly, she could contribute to the struggle in her own way. Living independently and earning a wage of her own were already large steps for a woman at the time, and Mary liked to believe that in some way, she was making a difference. If nothing else, the Berkeley job enabled her to meet plenty of interesting students and faculty, and have a great deal of fun in her free time.
All across nearby San Francisco, “hippie-ism” was beginning to spread from its nucleus at the corner of Haight and Ashbury. A movement dedicated largely to overthrowing the conservatism of the preceding decade, the counterculture had allies in the media, press, and government, but myriad enemies as well. It seemed like Timothy Leary’s invitation to “Turn off. Tune In. Drop Out.” was controversial, and being a young Californian meant picking a side on the issue. Were you going to be a sandal wearing pot smoking hippie, or would you reject it all together for the “Leave it to Beaver”, safe and secure way of your parents? For a rebellious young woman like Mary, the answer was obvious. She attended a Warlocks concert in November of 1966, where she tried marijuana for the first time and started becoming part of the “Cabal”, the fanatical fans who hung around the band after every show. Mary made herself a fixture at rock shows and parties, much to the horror of her parents who caught a sight of her at the “Human Be-In” in their local newspaper. They begged her to come home, or at least settle down before something terrible happened to her. They said that there was still time to prevent a tragedy. Mary refused, believing herself to be truly free for the first time in her life. Shortly thereafter, in mid-May, she met a man, or rather, a force of personality, that would make sure that that freedom was false and short lived.
Mary first encountered Charles Manson at a coffee shop near Haight-Ashbury, leaning against the counter and idly strumming at a resonator guitar he’d picked up for a handful of dollars at a local pawn shop. The whole restaurant reeked of poorly covered pot smoke and the tables were covered in a thin film of grime. This didn’t matter to Mary. These small imperfections gave the joint character, as far as she was concerned. She ordered a small coffee and watched this long haired musician play for a while. He was not particularly talented, she decided after taking in a couple of bars. He stumbled on the transitions between chords and his fingers didn’t press quite hard enough on the strings, producing a buzz which only served to undermine the musicality of anything he played half well. He won’t be opening for the Warlocks anytime soon. She giggled silently. There was something more to this man however, Mary realized. Every time she tried to look away from him and focus on her drink or the Kerouac novel haphazardly opened before her, she found her gaze drifting back to the hippie with the steel guitar. Eventually, he caught her eyes and smiled at her, his teeth white and pure as new-fallen Wisconsin snow.
He stretched the fingers of his right hand, electricity seeming to pour out of his every movement, every twitch. “Good to meet you, miss.” His voice, previously unheard, bore no trace of its former midwestern accent. That, like much of himself had been completely buried under the new coat of California paint. He patted the empty stool next to him, an invitation Mary did not know how to decline. “Come on over, I want to play a little something for ya.”
Mary did as the man asked. She watched, spellbound as he lazily pulled a capo out of his ramshackle guitar case and placed it over the first fret of his instrument. “Just finished learning this.” The hippie said, almost sheepishly. “It’s from that new Beatles record. You like the Beatles?”
The young woman shrugged. The Beatles were sort of old news as far as she was concerned, more the stuff of teeny bopper magazines than the real stuff she listened to. In their matching suits and playing with that old has-been Elvis, the Fab Four were looking too respectable for her tastes. She would take the Warlocks and Rolling Stones over John, Paul, George, and Ringo anyday. Nonetheless, she wanted to be polite, and so simply nodded her head.
Manson smiled and began to strum a modified A-chord. Slowly, awkwardly at first, he quickly settled into a groove, and played much better than he had been before Mary had joined him at the counter. It was like he was some sort of conduit rather than a person, channeling the music through him the way a wire carried power to warm Mary’s apartment every morning. He opened his mouth, and sang in a gravelly, world-weary voice.
“I read the news today, oh boy
About a lucky man who had made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well, I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph”
Mary gasped. She was spellbound.
“He blew his mind out in a car
He didn’t notice that the lights had changed.
A crowd of people stood and stared
They’d seen his face before,
Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords”
She hadn’t heard this new Beatles record, but whatever it was, Mary was certain this man was doing it far more justice than it deserved. In his curls of dark brown hair, she saw the limbs of a mighty chestnut forest. In his eyes, burning, was the intensity of a bonfire and a desperation, a rabid sexuality she had never seen distilled so cleanly into a single person. He was a mania. A perfect specimen of the spirit she sought far from home in the cold midwest. If California was the land of the sun, the promised refuge for youth like her, than this strange, bizarre figure must be her prophet, the one who would show her the way.
Before she knew it, the song was over. Manson took a deep breath, set his guitar back in his case and simply stared at the floor for a long moment. Mary waited, her own breathing halted, caught in her chest. What kept her locked so firmly in her seat? Was it fear? Excitement? She couldn’t say. Her attraction to this urchin was immediate, but she couldn’t find words to express it. Curse her family for not training her to be more sociable. She was blowing this chance big time. Thankfully for her, he broke the silence which followed.
“Let’s get out of here. You want to walk for a bit?”
Mary beamed like a schoolgirl. “Yes! Please. I’d like that a lot.”
…
Weeks passed, and Mary was swept up in the tidal wave that was the Summer of Love. That night in May, ‘Charlie’ as he introduced himself, had done more than Mary had expected. The sex was better than she had dared to hope, even if he refused to use protection. He’d been caring, gentle even in his lovemaking. Come to think of it, everything Charlie did lined up perfectly with the image Mary saw when first she looked at him. A powerful, peace loving man, she saw no reason not to let him move into her apartment with her when he asked. After two weeks together, Charlie had convinced her to quit her oppressive job at Berkeley, and ask her parents to send money instead. “You don’t want to work for those fascists.” He’d laughed slightly at her concern and protests. “Tell you what, we’ll get ourselves a van. Travel up and down this land and tell people the way things are. The way they could be.”
Mary was unsure at first, but Charlie waved her concerns away in a puff of Marijuana smoke and good natured jibes. “Come on Marioche,” a nickname Manson had taken to calling her. “We need to save as many of the people as we can!” According to the stories Charlie told Mary after another frenzic night of passion, he had good reason to spread the word. Charlie wasn’t just another guru preaching peace and free love to the good hippies of San Francisco, no. He had been sent for a greater purpose. “You might not believe me.” He’d said as she lay in his arms one night in June. “But you don’t have to look any further than my name to see who I am.”
He chuckled and said his name real slow, with intense emphasis on each syllable. “Charles Willis Manson. Charles’ Will Is Man’s Son. Don’t you see, Marioche?” He took one hand and pantomime-painted against the ceiling, as though plucking imagery out of thin air. “I am the Son of Man, reborn. It’s like I told you the other night. The Lamb and the Tiger are become one on this Earth, to judge the damned and the good on the final day alike. It is in me that they have found their home, and built their temple. I have only to spread their word and I will build a grand new Kingdom in their name. You’d be the perfect apostle, especially with that name of yours! Mary, Mary Manson has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”
Having left her job and other friends behind weeks ago, Mary didn’t have much choice but to concur. Even if the particulars of Charlie’s beliefs sounded a bit wacky, who was she to judge? She had come a long way from home to get caught up in something bigger than herself, wasn’t church a great kind of something bigger? Besides, Charlie seemed so sure, so certain in everything he was saying. Mary wasn’t even sure where she stood on what to make for breakfast every day. Maybe giving in and letting herself drift for a while wouldn’t be the worst thing she could do. Maybe Charlie Manson would, at the very least, be her savior.
Next Time on Blue Skies in Camelot: The Race for the White House in ‘68 kicks off.
Sorry for the late update everyone! Midterms are just kicking into gear and the writing process has slowed down considerably as a result. I'll be doing my best to keep up the schedule of course and will let you know of any changes. Cheers!
I'll be doing my best to keep up the schedule of course and will let you know of any changes. Cheers!Hope this TTL Manson doesn't have anyone killed based on some fake race war he believes in or anything. Keep them coming when time allows.updates c Hope this goes on a TV Tropes page soon, I'd love that.
Please don't have Manson kill Sharon Tate. I'm actually extremely interested to see her live and go on to do an acting career.
Alright, seems to me that the meeting between Mary Brunner and Charles Manson seems to be like OTL. However, I do find it interesting to hear him call himself "the savior." Perhaps instead of trying to initiate a race war, he's trying to establish a new cult?
That's actually pretty accurate to Manson in OTL. The guy literally proclaimed to his followers that he was Jesus.
Really? Well, I guess it could be possible that is there's no attempt to make a "race war," he could just be remembered for his attempt to call himself "Jesus."
Nope, the Jesus thing was part of the race war preaching. His preaching's to his 'family' was that he was the second coming of Jesus and that he was going to save them from Helter Skelter or some crazy shit. It was pretty nuts. There's a wikipedia article entirely devoted to the subject if you'd like: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helter_Skelter_(Manson_scenario)
Well, then. So we might see little change in the Manson situation?
I'm not sure. He could actually have different followers (certain followers may not have joined the counter culture, may not have been present when he met them OTL) which could change things, his victims like Sharon Tate might not be present at their location in OTL meaning they would get to live (who knows how Marilyn's surviving presence for example might alter Sharon Tate's early career trajectory), and other people might die. I've talked a bit about this before, but there's every reason to assume that Manson might be able to continue his murder spree longer. Hell the reason his crime became so infamous at the time and why some much attention and national news was received to his murders was because of his killing of a group of famous people, including Tate, which really was by sheer luck and coincidence, because he hadn't intended to target them (the person he was after previously lived in the house Tate owned and Manson was not aware).
Manson could easily manage to get away for another year or so if he's lucky, maybe even longer. I know one of his most devoted followers actually tried to assassinate Gerald Ford in the 70's, so it's entirely possible Manson might try this himself in the 70's on the current president at the time.
If you really want to know make, there's a fascinating documentary on Manson and his murders here.
Thank you!
Without giving too much away, I can say with some confidence that the Manson Family's development will be somewhat different ITTL. Manson is still the same crazy bastard he always was, and his beliefs may be similar to OTL, but his goals, and who he believes he must "punish" to achieve them may go in a wildly different direction.
AeroTheZealousOne
Monthly Donor
Just as long as Manson doesn't run for President...
But yeah, awesome update, and I personally hope things will work out better, but you never know.
But yeah, awesome update, and I personally hope things will work out better, but you never know.
Thank you, AeroTheZealousOne!
Glad you enjoyed it. Don't worry, Manson doesn't have politics on his mind. Well, at least not the elective kind...