Manson 'Black Magic' Told By Ex-Followers
December 5, 1969
Los Angeles Times
By Charles T. Powers
Times Staff Writer
SHOSHONE, California - The three men formed an odd partnership.
First there was Paul Crockett, a withered, 50-year-old itinerant
handyman-miner.
Then there was a young guitar player, Paul Watkins, 19, short, dark-haired
and easy going; and his friend, Brooks Poston, 21, a tall blond youth, whose
blue eyes betray a certain tenseness.
They met in the desert near this town at the South end of Death Valley, at a
place called the Barker Ranch in the company of a man called Charlie - Charles
Miller Manson, later to become known as the strange power behind the Sharon Tate
murders.
And before foreign journalists began bidding against each other for the men’s
story - thus alerting them to the fact that it might have a cash value - the
trio stretched a bizarre tale of sex, black magic and rumors of murder.
Watson and Poston said they first met Manson about two years ago - "right
after Charlie got out of prison" - in the Haight-Ashbury section of San
Francisco, when the hippie movement was in full flower.
Both followed Manson to the Los Angeles area, where they settled at the old
Spahn movie ranch near Chatsworth.
Later, the hippie band - still led by Manson-migrated to the Death Valley
area.
There, Paul Crockett entered the picture.
He and the younger men told the story of a twisted life with Charles Manson.
They spoke often with amazement, as if the experience still remained unreal.
"The whole thing," Watkins said, "was held together by black magic. You don't
believe it? Well, it really exists, and is powerful. We could show you."
And the high priest of the cult was Charles Manson.
"He believes," Poston said, "that he - and all human beings - are God and the
devil at the same time. He believes all human beings are all part of each
other."
"You see what that means," Crockett interrupted. "It means that human life
has no value. If you kill a human being, you're just killing a part of yourself.
So it's all right."
The others nodded agreement.
No Killing Of Snakes
"But you couldn't kill an animal," Crockett continued. "Not a bug, not a
snake, nothing. There were snakes all over the desert. They got in a cabin and
everywhere. But you could never kill one. They picked up snakes and carry them
outside and turned them loose."
"That's right," posting said. "I saw them carry a foot long Sidewinder out of
the cabin one day."
"And you couldn’t eat meat," Watkins said, "because you're killing an animal.
It was crazy."
To this day, two girls who were members of the Manson "family" will not eat
meat.
The three men indicated that Manson, over a period of time, developed virtual
hypnotic power over his tribe, particularly the women. In fact, the two girls,
when asked to describe Manson, invariably mentioned Manson's "motions,"
describing them as slow, deliberate and moody.
Crockett said that as a long-time "student of human nature," he carefully
watched Manson while he lived with the group in the desert.
"This sort of power takes a long time to work an effect," he said. "Motions
are tied to emotion. Certain motions create certain responses if you know how to
use them."
Manson's talent as a musician and a songwriter magnified his hypnotic hold on
the group, the men said.
Manson claims to be the author of a song, "Ceased to Resist," which was
recorded by a rock group, the Beach Boys.
"No one knows," Poston said, "that the words and the title of the song were
changed. The way Charlie wrote it, the song was called 'Cease to Exist.'"
Poston also quoted a fragment of another Manson song:
"There's no good, there's no bad, there is no crime, there is no sin."
That lyric, the three men suggested, embodies the philosophies Manson tried
to instill in his followers.
Women The Key To All
Manson, according to Poston and Watkins, developed a prodigious reputation as
a lover.
"The women around the place where always his property," Watkins said.
"You were always welcome to share them," Poston said. "But then you became
his property, too."
"Yeah," Watkins said. "He needed to have some men around. There was a limit
to what any man can do. But then, you see, the women held power over the other
men."
"That way," Crockett said, "the women were the key to everything."
Although the commune’s vegetation diet required little money, funds were
needed for such necessities as gasoline for the cars.
When those needs arose, Manson sent the girls in the group out to panhandle.
"They could beg more in two hours," Crockett said, "then you and I could earn
working in a week."
Manson never used the girls as prostitutes, Watkins said. "They were so good
at panhandling, they didn't have to hustle," he explained.
Watkins and Poston said that months passed before they fully understood what
Manson was doing to their lives and the others around and it was only because
Crockett warned them that the state of affairs in the desert commune pointed to
disaster.
Watkins finally left the group in May. Poston left in mid-October, shortly
before the police raid that resulted in Manson's arrest.
They Remained Silent
Only Watkins would say without hesitation that he knew Manson was involved in
stealing cars.
When asked if they had knowledge of more serious crimes, they became
reluctant to talk.
"We can't comment on that right now," Poston said. "It is still dangerous,
and police still want this stuff. We could get in a lot of trouble if we don't
watch what we say."
Each of the men still recalls with affection a lanky, fortyish man called "Shorty,"
a sometime movie stunt man, who lived with them for a while on the desert.
It is rumored that while there he met a violent, bloody death. Did they know
anything about it?
As one they replied:
"No comment."
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