“You can’t blame yourself for how Charlie turned out. And besides, if it counts, Manson helped me find God’s light. Maybe I’m the one he saved. No one has called me ‘Link’ for years.”
Gallagher measured Collins with keen eyes.
“And I suppose you still won’t give me any details about what happened?”
“No, Father. Charlie and God and I took a vow of silence.”
Gallagher nodded acceptance and turned toward the door.
“Come, Monsignor. Let’s eat.”
Collins took Gallagher by the arm to steady him. They left the office and walked slowly toward the elevator.
“Over three hundred thousand, you say?”
“It was actually closer to four hundred,” Collins said. “The check came by Express Mail. There was also a Gene Autry guitar pick in the envelope. The daughter’s letter said the money and pick belonged here.”
“I remember many celebrities visiting Boys Town, but I cannot remember Gene Autry coming.”
“Nor can I,” Collins said. “But the check was a Godsend. It put us over the top for the hospital’s new laboratory. It arrived just when it appeared we would have to cancel the project. I’m thinking about naming the new lab the Bowden Laboratory.”
The elevator door opened for the two men. They entered to descend to the ground floor. They finished their conversation as the doors closed behind them.
“My goodness, Monsignor,” Gallagher said. “The Lord certainly works in mysterious ways.”
“That he does, Father. That he does.”
Conclusions
When a Boys Town friend mentioned that Charles Manson had been one of the one of the famous institution’s failures, I was intrigued. I found it fascinating that that one of America’s most infamous villains was at a school created by one of its purest men.
I dug in to study Manson from several angles, trying to understand the reality behind the legends. I was surprised as the Manson myths exploded one by one, turning the monster into a man. When you discover, as an investigator, that things aren’t as they appear, it makes you dig deeper. I reached out to the monster. He responded.
Conversationally, Manson is a difficult person with whom to identify. He has boasted for years that he does not lie. Maybe it’s true. I’ve never caught him in a falsehood. Yet, his unwavering candor can be uncomfortable, especially when we do not want to hear the truth about ourselves. People find it difficult to deal with someone who always tells the truth. I felt that discomfort.
If Manson does not lie, he may reveal the truth in different ways through metaphors and varying points of view, often delivered with shock value for his own reasons.
For example, when he flatly states, “George Washington was a dangerous crime boss who led a gang of killers and a fleet of pirates,” he speaks the truth from King George’s perspective. Later he lavishes praise on Washington as an anti-establishment hero.
When Manson makes the unspeakable admission, “I am a mass murderer,” he will later add, “I must be a mass murderer because the judges, newspapers and presidents say I am.” He concedes that perception is reality, whether accurate or not.
When he says, “I am the Devil,” or “I turned the Devil loose on the world,” he does not mean it literally, but as an acknowledgement of interpretations people have of him.
And when he says, “I am Jesus,” he always adds, “We are all Jesus. Jesus is in us all as the Bible says,” or “Grandpa was Grandma’s Jesus.” Not surprisingly, Manson knows more about the Bible than most give him credit for.
Bugliosi recognized that Manson rarely speaks directly and probably never gave direct orders for murder. Instead, Bugliosi’s case argued that Manson inferred his intentions through parables, gestures, and mind games.
For his own reasons, Manson often portrays himself as an unintelligent, unbalanced person. Perhaps it is a control tactic. He tells people he has reading difficulties without explaining whether he refers to cognitive disabilities or a simple a lack of books in prison.
“I generally don’t like books,” he says. “My thoughts are more interesting than anything I can read.”
I innocently ask, “Do they tell you that you’re insane?”
He laughs at the question. “There was a time,” he says, “when being crazy meant something. Now there are so many crazies outside, I’m better off in prison. You’re the one who’s in danger from crazy people. At least I can control my environment.”
He doesn’t act like an insane person. Indeed, the doctors who analyze his mental state repeatedly find him perceptive, intelligent and competent.
In our conversations, Manson never delivered the defensive “crazy man” antics performed for national television audiences during interviews with Tom Snyder, Geraldo Rivera, and others. Even when we cursed each other in disagreement, and resorted to name calling, the “crazy man” never appeared.
If sanity is not a question, neither is consistency. Since 1969, Manson has steadfastly advocated innocence in the Tate-LaBianca murders. In 1970, he told the court, away from the jury’s presence, “I have killed no one and ordered no one to be killed.”
He continues to proclaim his innocence. He told me, “I’ve done bad things in my life. I’m an outlaw, a gangster, and I’m probably where I need to be. But I don’t feel guilty about what they say I did. I did nothing to feel guilty about. I’m ashamed of nothing I did. Those fuckers took my life from me for their own gain. I made the prosecutor a rich man.”
And on the LaBianca murders he says, “I never tied up the LaBiancas for Tex to kill. I went into what I thought was an empty house and saw a man sitting with his dog. He said, ‘Can I help you?’ I said, ‘Sorry, I thought the house was empty,’ and I left. I knew what would happen and got the hell out of there. I followed the outlaw code and stayed out of the way. It wasn’t my business, and I’ve never ratted out anyone, never will. People don’t understand the outlaw code unless they are trying to survive in the outlaw world.”
Is it true? Is Manson at best an accomplice?
He explains his place in society.
“You, in your square boxes, need me. You need me for jobs. Think of the police and guards and prosecutors and television executives I have supported. I am an entertainment invention with high profit margins for the man. You need me in jail to blame for your sick society. You need to believe that you have captured and locked away evil. It makes you think you’re safe. It’s a lie. It’s all bullshit. All false. I never killed those people. I am the lamb of society.”
I contemplate. Have we been conditioned to believe things that are not true? Is the Manson boogie man a creation that fills a need like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy?
He says, “Helter Skelter is Bugliosi’s fantasy. We played a lot of games at the ranch, just like kids play video games today. Didn’t you ever play cowboys and Indians? Play acting was cheap entertainment. Ours were movie games played at a movie ranch. If I’m guilty, why don’t you charge video game makers when a kid picks up a real gun and goes wild? That’s what they did to me.”
I have heard this before and ponder the result of things implied and inferred, lines crossed from imagination to reality, statements interpreted too literally. I remember Socrates who was found guilty and sentenced to death for corrupting the minds of Athenian youth.
Manson’s resoluteness led me to re-examine Bugliosi’s definitive work Helter Skelter, sifting through every word in search of evidence that I was communicating with a mad killer. “Convince me with proof and corroboration, not hype,” I said. He did not convince me. The circumstantial case with one eyewitness was sensational, but weak, leaving many shadows of doubt.
I wondered how it must feel to be in Manson’s situation.
If I was charged with a crime yet denied witnesses, would I feel his frustration? If I was denied the right to cross-examine a prosecution witness, would I not feel my anger rise?
Would I feel hopelessness if the President of the Unite
d States declared me guilty during trial, as President Nixon did to Manson? Would I too feel X-ed from the standards of fair treatment?
I recall when Manson jumped across the defense table and attempted to attack Jude Oder in 1970. Can I not conceive of frustrations boiling over into action?
It is incredible to consider that a prosecutor could spin isolated statements and facts into Helter Skelter to transform a two-bit failure of a thief into a one of the most noted mass murderers of all time.
People are unprepared for paradigm shifts when they are first suggested. Doubts rise when beliefs are challenged. Pope Urban VIII imprisoned Galileo as a heretic when he maintained that the world was round. We felt similar doubts in modern times when we first heard the best watches are made not in Switzerland but in Japan. Warships do not need sixteen inch cannons. Warplanes can fly without pilots. We doubted.
And so, we have difficulty considering that Manson might not have received a fair shake in his trials.
“I wore a railroad jacket to the trial for a reason,” he says.
In a society shaped by opinions, it is the opinion dispensers, the media, whose views become accepted. Manson would not be the first fall guy for whom truth was subjugated in favor of profit motives or a good conviction record.
In the end, the question remains: Is Manson a monster? Or, is he a scapegoat, fashioned to placate society’s fears and meet the needs of money-hungry media and justice system engines?
Few criminals have captivated and shocked the world as Charles Manson’s did in 1969. The changing face of Manson is shown in mug shots and prison photos courtesy of the California State Prison System.
“What you believe comes from what you have been told. You don’t see or want to think that someone sold you fear, but you bought it anyway, hook-line-and-sinker. You have been led to follow people who control your thinking with fear. In their manipulation you waste your own judgment and become like them.”
I know that you, the misled, will never forgive me for what you think I’ve done, but I understand. It is easier to be led than to seek the truth. I’m not important. Your concern should be with saving life on Earth. You are destroying the air, trees, water, and animals.”
Charles Manson 2011.
Acknowledgements
This novel would not have been possible without support from the following individuals and institutions:
Boys Town Hall of History, Omaha, NE
Indiana State Library, Indianapolis, IN
Indianapolis Star, Indianapolis, IN
California State Prison, Corcoran, CA
Charles Manson and Manson Family members who remain loyal to him
Bill Gonzales, The Durham Museum, Omaha, NE
Gary Rosenberg, Douglas County Historical Society, Omaha, NE
Stephen McDowell, Omaha – photo selection and editing
Lil Cromer Belleair, FL - editing
Special thanks to writing coach and lead editor Ann Gentle for her guidance, support, and sharp eye.
Most of all I am grateful to my wife and family whose tolerance was frequently tested each time Charles Manson or his family members called our residence at odd hours.
About The Author
Author Lawson McDowell lives in Omaha, Nebraska with his wife and family. He is in his forty-first year with a Fortune 500 company where he serves as Director of Network Operations.
When the Manson murders rocked the world in 1969, Lawson was a student at Texas Tech University. The gruesome descriptions haunted him and stayed with him over time.
In 2004, while on a business trip to Los Angeles, Lawson sought out the site of the Tate murders to gain perspective and face the ghosts of the horrors past.
Driving up the mountainside on Ciello Drive, he encountered the same iron gates that the murder party found. Through them he could see that the Polanski murder home is gone, replaced by a newer blood-free mansion. But the memories remain.
Thus began a quest to understand what occurred so long ago.
For more information, visit:
www.lawsonmcdowell.com
Before He Became a Monster: A Story Charles Manson's Time at Father Flannigan's Boystown Page 31
