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Hippie Haven Homicide

By Sally Carpenter

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Chapter 1: Feelin’ Groovy
April, 1967. Monday

Police Chief Whitlock knocked the daisy from the hippie’s outstretched hand. “Move along!”

A tear rolled down the young woman’s cheek, smudging the bird painted on her skin. “Oh, bummer, man. Why did you smash my little flower? I was just giving you some love.”

“I don’t want your hippie love.” Judd Whitlock put his chubby fists on his wide hips, which made his gut protrude even more beneath his black uniform and jacket. “Now you kids pack up your stuff.” One hand made a sweeping gesture over the city park where they were standing. “And get out of town.”

A young bearded man stepped up behind the girl. Both were in their early 20s and dressed in long-sleeve, ankle-length flowing blue robes with white rope belts tied around the waist. Both had brown sandals on their feet. They wore no coats, despite the April chill.

“Hey, Blossom, is this square making a bad scene?” the man asked.

“Yeah, Chakra,” she replied. “All these bad vibes…”

The man put his hands on her shoulders as he eyed the cop. “Hey man, don’t mess with Blossom’s groove. I mean, she’s just trying to lay down some love and you’re freaking her out.”

The policeman crossed his arms. “Why don’t you speak English?”

Chakra grinned. “Sure, man, we’re picking up from where you’re coming from.”

“Then pick this up.” Whitlock pulled a baton from his belt. The pair cringed and took a step back. “Now I want you freaks to leave now or—” He slapped the stick onto his palm.

Chakra looked at the girl. “We better blow this scene.”

“We should fetch First Sage.” She tossed back her waist-length black hair. “He’ll know what to do.”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” The man held up two fingers in a V sign at the cop. “Peace, man. We’ll be right back.”

The two beat a hasty retreat into the heart of Poinsettia Park, a large wooded community gathering place in downtown Yuletide, a rural town in southwest Indiana. On weekdays, when school was in session, the large park was mostly empty save for a few housewives bringing their youngsters to play on the slides and swings, or retirees taking brisk walks and reminiscing about the good old days. Today, however, about forty young adults, all clad in identical blue robes, scampered around the grassy area. They played tag; swung on the metal monkey bars; splashed in the fountain; made music with acoustic guitars and sang. Their laughter and music filled the air. All of the women—and the men too—sported long, free flowing hair. Most of the men were bearded as well.
The local folk walking by gave the intruders the hairy eyeball and a wide berth.

“Judd, what the blazes is going on?” Christopher Kloss, the town’s part-time mayor, puffed and panted as he jogged across the grass, which was still damp from the previous night’s rain. “I came here as fast as I could.”

Like Whitlock, he too packed a few extra pounds, but for a good reason. The weight benefited Kloss’ full-time job of portraying jolly old St. Nick at the Country Christmas Family Fun Park on the edge of town. The holiday theme park and the local electronics plant served as Yuletide’s largest employers.

Whitlock ran his eyes over the mayor. “Don’t tell me you’re going to give presents to the freaks?”

Indeed, Kloss was still clad in his red velvet Santa suit and hat, both trimmed with white fur. His natural white beard completed the costume. Kloss tucked his thumbs into his black leather belt. “You called me at work and said it was an emergency. I didn’t take time to change. I came straight here. Now where’s the emergency?”

“Here, Mr. Mayor.” The chief pointed his baton at the clusters of young people scattered around. “These weirdoes have taken over the park.”

Kloss’ blue eyes squinted at Whitlock. “Who are they? They don’t look like our usual type of tourists.”

“I don’t know. They drove into town in that.”

The baton was pointed at a former school bus now painted orange with the words FOLLOW THE WISE ONE stenciled in black on the sides. Beneath that sentence, the phrase SPARK LOVE CAMPAIGN TOUR was painted in smaller letters.

“Who’s the Wise One?” the mayor asked.

“I dunno.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

Whitlock wrinkled his nose. “I’d need to hose them down first to get close enough to ask. I don’t think they bathe much.”

Kloss chuckled. “Chief, have you ever been to a town hall meeting in a room full of farmers who’ve spent the day shoveling out their pig pens? They don’t come in smelling like roses.” He put a hand on Whitlock’s shoulder. “Tell you what, Chief. You keep an eye on the kids, and if they cut down a tree or rob an old lady, you can arrest them.”

“What if they start smoking marijuana?”

“Yes, definitely that. Otherwise, there’s no law against adults having a good time in a public park. I’ll go and see if I can find the person in charge.”

The mayor headed toward the strangers. His shiny black leather boots made squishy noises in the damp grass. He approached a group of young men and women who were dancing around the city’s war memorial, a tall stone pillar with the names of former Yuletide residents lost in the two World Wars.

A tall, lanky dude stopped and stared gaped-mouth at Kloss. “Hey, whoa, look out! It’s the man with all the toys!”

His cohorts ceased dancing and began laughing. “Wow, man, where’s your reindeer?”

“Are we at the North Pole?”

A teenage girl picked at the mayor’s coat sleeve. “Cool threads. Where can I get one like this?”

Kloss yanked his arm away. “Please, don’t touch. I just had this dry cleaned.” He cleared his throat and spoke loudly. “Excuse me. I’d like to speak to the leader of your group.”

“May I be of assistance?” A middle-age man, older than the others, strolled up as if he wanted to take charge of the situation. His voice was quiet, but strong. Unlike the other men, he was clean shaven and wore his dark hair cut short. His robe was gold colored. Despite his average height and lean build, he radiated an air of authority.

“Yes, I’m the town mayor. Christopher Kloss. Are you in charge of these people?”

“I am known as First Sage.”

“Do you have a real name?”

“That is the name that serves me well in my duties.” He adjusted his wire-rim glasses on his long nose and ran his heavy-lidded eyes over Kloss
.
“Don’t mind my appearance,” said the mayor. “I work at the local theme park. Who are these people and what are your intentions here in our fair city?”

“Intentions? We have no intentions. Our only goal in life is to seek spiritual wisdom and be in harmony with ourselves and one another under the guidance of the Wise One.” First Sage had a smooth, pleasant sounding voice. “We are of the SPARK family: Spiritually Pure And Radiant Kin. Our cross-country Love Campaign seeks to spread our good news with others.”

Kloss scrunched his lips and furrowed his brow as he tried to comprehend. “Are you a cult?”

The corners of First Sage’s mouth bent slightly downward, displeased at hearing the question for the umpteenth time in his work. “We are a legally incorporated nonprofit organization that only seeks the betterment of mankind. Here, let the devotees tell you.” He took one man by the arm and pulled him forward. “Chakra, tell the mayor about your life before you found us.”

“I was lost, man. Strung out on booze, drugs—you name it, I did it. Sex—a different chick every night. But I wasn’t happy. I was hurting and bummed out. Then I heard the Wise One speak at a rally and I said, ‘Wow, now that’s a bag I can groove with.’ I joined the beautiful people, and I haven’t shot up or gotten blitzed or looked at a girl since then. No way, man. I’m clean as a baby.”

First Sage nodded. “He speaks for many of the devotees here. They were once lost, but now have found the way of beauty. Blossom, share your story.”

The girl coyly glanced at the ground and clutched her hands together, then raised her eyes and smiled at Kloss. “I grew up in Homestead, Illinois. My home life was a bad scene. My daddy died soon after he remarried. My stepmom is a turn-off and my stepbrother is a skuzz. But SPARK is the perfect family. Loving, caring, generous. I’m never going back to my old life. This is where I belong.”

A clock, set at the top of the war memorial monument, struck noon with ear-splitting bongs.

“If you will pardon us,” said First Sage, “it’s time for the midday repast.” He turned to face the blue-robed devotees. “Line up, children.”

The members of the group clapped their hands and sang as they formed a line behind First Sage. They followed him, single file, to the side of the bus. Two male devotees stepped forward and lifted the door of the underneath cargo space. They pulled large boxes out of the space and set them on the ground. As the devotees walked by, the servers opened the boxes and handed them sandwiches wrapped in wax paper along with cardboard pint cartons of milk. The youth then scattered throughout the park in groups of six or more to eat. Since the ground was too wet for sitting, they perched on the playground equipment and the war statue.

First Sage returned to the mayor. “If you have no further questions, I have pressing business elsewhere. You may continue speaking with the children until they finish eating.” He hurried to a white Cadillac that was parked near the bus. A male devotee was seated behind the wheel; he served as the chauffer for the group’s leaders. After First Sage seated himself in the back seat, the devotee drove away via the service road that led out of the park.

Kloss peered over Chakra’s shoulder. “What are you eating?”

Chakra held up his pita pocket sandwich. “Broccoli, chickpeas and avocado in lemon sauce! Yummy!”
Kloss’ face turned ashen. “Ah, yes, very nice.” He cleared his throat. “How can I meet this Wise Guy?”

“Who?”

“You know, the man in charge. The head of this, er, delegation.”

“You mean the Wise One.”

The devotees laughed.

“The Wise One arrives and leaves like the wind.” Blossom was seated next to Chakra on one of the wooden benches. “He will come to us when he has more knowledge to impart to us.”

Kloss jerked his head at the bus. “Didn’t he ride in with you?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “The Wise One uses his own transportation so he can meditate and ponder deep thoughts in solitude.”

“And when do you all plan to return to your homes?”

“Never, man,” said Chakra. “We’ll ride the bus wherever it takes us.”

“Umm, yes.” Kloss glanced at the crowd of townspeople gathered at the park’s edge. They were watching him and the devotees with keen interest. “Tell you what, please pass on a message to your Wise One. Tell him that I’d like to speak with him as soon as he shows up. In the meantime, you can stay in the park as long as you don’t bother the residents. And when you finish, please clean up your trash, or you’ll be on my naughty list.”

As the mayor plodded away, the hippies regaled him with a chorus of “Here Comes Santa Claus.” The next time the daffy police chief called him out for an emergency, Kloss would make it a priority to first change into his street clothes.

* * * * *

Noelle McNabb had been watching the gathering from the front window of the Groovy Vinyl Record Store, which was directly across from the park and on the other side of Kringle Avenue. She didn’t hear what the people were saying, but she could tell something big was going on. Her part-time morning shift had ended at noon, and she was dying to go outside and check out the strangers. But first she had to wait for her customarily late afternoon replacement to arrive. She couldn’t leave the store because of the one customer who was browsing the record bins. Noelle brushed some lint off her tan pants. She also wore a matching long-sleeve Mandarin collar shirt in a flower print.

The customer finally came to the front counter to pay for his purchase: the newest singles by The Turtles, The Byrds and The Buckinghams. Noelle rang up the charges on the cash register with the mother-of-pearl keys, took the man’s cash, and counted out the change. She wrote out a paper receipt for him and kept the carbon copy of the sale for the store. The last step was to place the vinyl discs into a flat paper sack printed with the store’s name and logo.

Shortly after the satisfied customer exited the front door—making the bell posted on the door frame ring—a friend of Noelle’s slumped his way through the same door and into the building to work at the head shop in the back of the store. Noelle never stepped foot inside the head shop—that business was separate from the record store and nothing that concerned her.

Noelle had grown used to the man showing up for work in hippie time—that is, whenever he felt like it. “Hey, Rambler, what’s up?”

The longhaired man waved and mumbled something under his moustache and beard. Today he had on a dirty Grateful Dead tee-shirt, torn jeans and a patchwork coat sewn from various fabrics and patterns.

“What’s going on at the park, Rambler? Anyone you know?”

He peered through the window with his watery eyes. “Never set my peepers on them before.”

“I thought you kept tabs on all the hippies in the area.” She walked with him to the back of the store.

“Yeah, but these ain’t hippies, just a bunch of religious freaks. They follow this cuckoo guru who calls himself the Wise One.”

“What are they doing in Yuletide?”

“Sponging for handouts.”

They stopped in front of the beaded curtain that covered the doorway to the head shop.

“Rambler, I’m off work now. I’m going to check out what’s going on in the park.”

“Groovy. And tell those cats to scoot. Don’t need a bunch of flakes giving us real hippies a bad name.”

He ducked through the beaded curtain, and Noelle chuckled. Most of the fair folks of Yuletide kept their distance from Rambler and his live-in girlfriend, Moonbaby, but Noelle found them to be loyal friends. She returned to the cash register to count the money in the till. The record store gig supplemented Noelle’s principal work—playing the Winter Witch in the Candy Cane Capers show at the Christmas theme park—during the fall and winter months when the park was only open weekends. But the 25-year-old actress considered her park job to be temporary, just a step on her way to Hollywood fame and fortune.

At 12:15, the afternoon shift employee finally showed up and muttered some excuse about his tardiness. Noelle didn’t listen. She slipped on her jacket, grabbed her purse, and ran outside, catching the stoplight in time to cross the street and dash into the park. The devotees had finished eating and were back to their playtime. Some of the youths stood in a circle and tossed a beach ball back and forth. When the ball went flying out of bounds, Noelle caught it before it sailed into the street.

She offered the ball to one of the girls in the circle. “Hi, my name’s Noelle. What’s yours?”

The devotee took the ball with her left hand. “The Wise One calls me Blossom. He says I’m like a flower planted in Mother Earth. The Wise One gave me the nutrients I needed to sprout into my true self, a self-actualized spirit capable of loving and being loved.”

Noelle cocked her head, trying to absorb the reply. “What’s your real name?”

“You mean the captive name that others called me when I was a slave to the material world? I no longer belong there.”

“Yeah, that’s telling them, baby!” Chakra, standing beside Blossom, gave her a playful punch in the arm.

“What about your family?” Noelle asked. “Don’t you miss them?”

Blossom’s smile sagged. Her voice lost its perkiness. “My material relatives are clouded by the vices of the world. My stepmother called me stupid, and my stepbrother beat me. No, I don’t miss them at all.”

“Hey, Blossom, don’t talk about them.” Chakra rubbed her shoulders. “They’re a bad trip. Think happy thoughts, like the Wise One says.”

Noelle said, “I’m sorry you had a unpleasant childhood, Blossom. I’d miss my parents very much if I were away from them for long. I’d even miss my goofy siblings.”

The smile returned to Blossom’s face. “The Wise One is both father and mother to me.”

“Where is he? I’d like to meet him.”

Chakra gave a big grin. “Hey, why don’t you join us? You sound like a far-out chick.”

“No thanks. I’m quite happy with my church,” Noelle said. “I’m just interested in what other people think. So what is it you do, besides play ball?”

Blossom replied, “Nothing. Wise One says we’re his spiritual children, so we should play and be happy like little tots.”

“How do you eat? Where do you get the money for the things you need?”

“The Wise One provides.”

“Where does he get the money?”

The youths laughed. “All you think about is money,” said Chakra. “You’re just like all the other pagans.”

Noelle stiffened. “Excuse me, I’m a Christian, not a pagan.”

“Wise One says anyone not in the family is a pagan,” he explained. “Pagans are obsessed with power and lust and greed. They can’t see the way to true happiness.”

“And you think happiness is tossing around a beach ball all day?” said Noelle. “What would happen if everyone did that? Who would grow the food and build the houses and keep the electricity and water flowing?”

The Cadillac pulled up beside the bus and First Sage got out of the back seat. He marched over to the group with a clipboard in hand. “Listen, children, it’s time for evangelism. Now that you have been fed with physical food, it’s time to share our spiritual nourishment with others.” The devotees clapped and begin lining up behind First Sage.
He stared at Noelle. “Who are you? Someone with the mayor’s office?”

“No, just a friend.” Noelle said to Blossom. “Can we maybe talk again later?”

“Sure.” She took Noelle’s hand. “You’re friendly. I like you.”

Noelle patted her hands. “I like you too.”

First Sage frowned at Noelle. “The devotees have a full schedule of lectures and witnessing. They have no time for idle chatter with pagans.” He grabbed Blossom’s hand. “Come!”

He charged toward the bus with Blossom in tow. The girl twisted her head and, with her free hand, waved at Noelle, who returned the gesture. As the devotees climbed aboard the bus, First Sage returned to the car. The Caddy pulled away and the bus, with all the devotees aboard, followed the car out of the park.

Noelle put her hands on her hips and watched the group leave. She wasn’t sure what to think. She liked Blossom, but wondered if she had fallen into the wrong bag. The 1960s had not only ushered in a new era of mod clothing, rock music and freedom, but had generated a revolt among the youth who questioned the principles of their parents. A plethora of new cults had popped up to attract the young people who were searching for answers. Had Blossom found a community of caring people, or had she been brainwashed by someone who sought to harm her? A strange feeling nagged at Noelle. She needed to keep an eye on the naïve devotee.


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