Albion Dreaming (35 page)

The amount of LSD available at the 1975 Meigan Fair has gone down in free festival legend. Meigan attendee Chris Church
remembers that on the first day of the festival: “... almost all of them were incapable due to the huge consumption of psychedelics. It was the only event I ever went to where it seemed as if the lysergic state was the normal state to be in.”
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Musically it was slightly chaotic. So chaotic in fact that free festival synthesiser band, Zorch were unable to play because one of their musicians, Basil Brooks, was “incapacitated by LSD”.
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Another Meigan veteran, Tim Rundall, recalls: “... a very unhealthy quantity of liquid LSD which emanated, I believe, from the cottage that would later be raided by the Julie squad.”
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In many recollections of free festival attendees there is an assumption that the LSD they were taking was that made by Richard Kemp or Andy Munro, the chemists arrested in the Operation Julie events. After his arrest Kemp admitted that he had timed LSD production runs to coincide with the summer festivals and he also claimed to have donated some of his profits to free festival organisers. Sid Rawle, however, has no knowledge of this and believes that it is unlikely it could have happened without his knowledge.

The Meigan Fair’s organisers had thought carefully about the quantities of LSD that would be consumed and had tried to create the best setting possible. Deep in the countryside the festival-goers were untroubled by police or locals and there was always some music, theatre or other event to occupy the minds of those who had indulged in psychedelics. For those who found themselves in the middle of an LSD-induced existential crisis a “sanctuary” tent was provided. This was a tipi-like structure where people could be quiet, rest and read some of the metaphysical literature provided. There were no recorded bad trips, although some must have taken place, and the Festival Welfare Service thought it was a well-run and exciting festival.

When Margaret Thatcher and the Conservative Party came to power in May 1979 the free festival culture was in full swing. For young people with a sense of adventure and a DIY ethic it was possible to stay on the road and spend May to October at free festivals. The wealth of reminiscences now available on the internet leaves us in no doubt that LSD was available in large quantities and high strength at every one of the 1970s free
festivals. Other than at Windsor in 1974 there had been relatively little trouble with the authorities. Free festivals were often allowed to run unhindered for several days before they were broken up by police. And, despite the best efforts of Operation Julie, there was no disruption in the supply of LSD. The free festivals of the 1970s were, for many, a halcyon period during which a new way of living, a new way of travelling and a new way of celebrating was forged and established within British culture. The problem was that this way of living and the substances which fuelled it were anathema to the vast majority and an easy target for right-wing politicians. The advent of Conservative rule would soon change the face of free festivals forever – and with that change came a change in LSD usage.

The final word on LSD and free festivals goes to Kevin Hagan, in 1981 a young musician who caught the tail-end of the free festival scene. He neatly sums up the effect of free festivals on the individual and the links between the festivals, anarchy and LSD: “It sounds corny, but going to the Stonehenge Festival changed my life. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It really was anarchy in action ... It was so different to anything I had seen before. It had the feel of a medieval encampment. There was so much going on – stages on every corner, stalls – and people providing weird tripping environments. It was like an activity camp for trippers! And everyone was doing it because they wanted to – not because they wanted to earn money ...”
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This was the acid ethos writ large and lived out in day to day life. Free festivals were temporary autonomous zones in which the counter culture lived out their dream existence, the experience heavily influenced by LSD. This alternative lifestyle was antithetical to the materialistic, consumer society of the rest of Britain and would eventually be destroyed by the Government. But while it lasted, free festival culture and the lifestyle of those who supported it required large supplies of good quality LSD. This was supplied by an LSD manufacturing and distribution organization the like of which police had not seen before, or since and which became known as Operation Julie.

I have turned on a lot of people and got a lot of people high. I’d do it all over again.

Richard Kemp
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D
uring the early Seventies, large quantities of a new type of LSD became available in Britain. Media sources began to report increasing police seizures of tiny pills the size of a pinhead. Acidheads used to the drug in sugar cubes, blotting paper and capsules found they were now being offered small, often brightly coloured tablets known as microdots. Not only were the microdots tiny, they were inexpensive, between 50p and £1 each, much less if bought in bulk. But the most significant quality of microdots was their strength, at least 200 μg in each dot, enough to guarantee a powerful and consistent psychedelic experience lasting up to twenty-four hours.

A senior drug squad officer commented in 1972, “Microdots are the pushers’ latest weapon in the drug war. In the past it was not too difficult to detect the evidence of LSD in sugar lumps or on blotting paper. But these new pills are so tiny they can be disposed of at a moment’s notice.”
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As seizures increased the media printed stories about the new variety of LSD; “Pinhead LSD ‘a killer’” “Drug ring peddling LSD microtabs” “Extra strong LSD peddled” and “Report shows more LSD is available” were just a few of the headlines between 1972 and 1977. Journalists speculated that a “microdot gang” was responsible for the influx of powerful LSD. Microdots could be easily obtained in any town or city at any of the many clubs and pubs that had sprung up to cater for the large numbers of hippies and freaks. It was common on a Friday or Saturday night in one of these clubs for almost everyone in attendance, bar staff included, to be under the influence of the latest batch of microdots to hit town, the party continuing later at private flats, or on psychedelic country rambles. The drug’s quality and strength were dependable and at a pound or less per trip, microdots represented extremely good value for money. But the qualities that made microdots so attractive; availability, price and strength, also caused problems for the unprepared.

Like thousands of other teenagers living a suburban existence in the early Seventies, fifteen-year-old Tim Lott was keen to experiment with LSD. When he first saw the drug, a blue microdot, he thought: “I had expected the LSD tablets to be about the size of paracetamol. I had intended, on this occasion, to take only a half or even a quarter. But the tablets are so tiny, they are virtually indivisible. It seems that I am bound to lose face if I try and divide it up. Anyway, something so tiny can hardly be very powerful.”
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Believing the physical size of the LSD carrier had a relationship to the strength of dose was an easy mistake to make, and often led to novice LSD users taking more than they could handle. For Lott, having only preconceptions of what LSD might be like and with no experienced guide for the trip, his first microdot was simply too strong. At first he was impressed, amazed at a drug that made him feel he was “... in a state of the purest, most concentrated ecstasy and it is the most real, the most truthful thing I have ever experienced”. Amazement soon turned to bewilderment as the drug’s effect continued to increase, wave upon wave of sensory impressions washing over him, threatening to subsume him. Fearing he was losing his mind, Lott smashed up his parents’
living room, ripped off his clothes and ran naked into the street, before being subdued by a neighbour and taken to the police station. His father rescued him and Lott spent the next twelve hours recovering in bed, the ghost of LSD flitting through his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened.
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Lott’s experience was harrowing; a trip that spiralled out of control because he had no real idea what to expect. Although media and counter culture descriptions of LSD trips might make the psychedelic experience sound desirable, they could not accurately convey what a trip would actually be like. In Lott’s case, he was ignorant of the crucial elements of set and setting and had no one to guide him on his journey. Of course, Lott’s disorientating experience was not typical. The vast majority of LSD users enjoyed the experience enormously and benefited from it in a number of ways as accounts such as Pete Mellor’s demonstrate (see
Chapter 9
).

Tim Lott’s blue microdot was almost certainly made by chemist Richard Kemp; just one of millions of doses of LSD manufactured in Britain, and distributed across the world, by a group of psychedelic idealists. This tightly knit organization was nameless but their activities and produce would become known collectively by the name given to the police initiative that smashed their illicit enterprise: Operation Julie.

It is impossible to pinpoint the moment when the Operation Julie conspiracy began, but it can be traced back to 1967 when writer David Solomon, an acknowledged authority on LSD, settled in Cambridge. A year later, in 1968, Solomon met future Operation Julie chemist Richard Kemp. At the time, Kemp was living with Christine Bott, the pair having met and fallen in love while Kemp was working as a researcher at Liverpool University. While he was not central to the later production of LSD, Solomon was crucial initially in bringing the principles of the conspiracy together. Solomon was an “acid intellectual”, a well educated man who had a sincere and reasoned belief that LSD should be used as a positive tool to alter consciousness. The writer was held in high regard by the worldwide psychedelic community and numbered many of its luminaries, including Timothy Leary, among his friends.

When he met Kemp, Solomon was involved in trying to synthesise THC, the active constituent of marijuana, and Kemp was happy to assist with this process. At some point in 1969, to finance further research into THC, the decision to manufacture LSD was made. One of Solomon’s American friends, Paul Arnaboldi, supplied Kemp with 40 grams of ergotamine maleate and, being a brilliant chemist, Kemp had no trouble making three batches of LSD, albeit of a weak dosage, in the basement of his Liverpool flat. Curious as to what the fuss was about – Solomon had told him that LSD was a stronger version of marijuana – Kemp took a small dose. Under the influence, he accidentally knocked over a flask containing large amounts of the drug, ingesting enough LSD to catapult himself on a trip of cosmic proportions. Kemp was awed by the experience and slowly his ties to the world of formal academic research began to weaken.
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Solomon had many connections throughout the LSD underworld, one of whom was the enigmatic Ronald Stark. Much has been written about Stark’s motivation for being involved in the international LSD trade and an entire book could easily be written on his exploits, most of which do not concern the British LSD scene. Stark’s links with a group of Californian LSD dealers known as the Brotherhood of Eternal Love, who in turn had close links with Timothy Leary, has spawned a worldwide acid conspiracy with Stark at the centre.

There is no doubt about the depth of Stark’s involvement with LSD, but his motives and who, if anyone, he was actually working for remains a matter for speculation. The major players in the international LSD market during the Sixties and Seventies all knew of each other and collaborated when necessary. However, the fact that Stark moved easily between these groups and individuals does not constitute a conspiracy as some have claimed. Nor has there been any proof of Stark’s alleged links with the CIA and other intelligence agencies. Yet something about Stark gave people cause for concern. For instance, when Steve Abrams met him, he was convinced Stark was working for the American intelligence services; so convinced that he phoned Bing Spear at the Home Office to express his concerns about the man.

Solomon introduced Kemp to Stark, who in turn persuaded Kemp to leave his university job, to work full time on synthesizing THC. Pure THC is much stronger than cannabis resin or marijuana and, being in oil form, was easier to conceal and transport, meaning profits were high and risks low. According to Kemp, the deal between Solomon and Stark was analogous to that of a minor league football club player being transferred to the premier division. In exchange for Solomon being able to buy LSD at $900 a gram, Kemp was free to work on THC for Stark. While engaged on this project in laboratories in France, Kemp also made LSD, accidentally stumbling on a short cut that speeded up the process and resulted in an almost pure product.
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After a disagreement over money, Kemp split from Stark and returned to Britain. By early 1972, he had gone into LSD production. Kemp and Bott rented various flats for just long enough to complete a production run, before moving to the next destination. Solomon bought the precursor chemicals in Germany, later handing them to Kemp who kept them in a Swiss safety deposit box until needed. For each gram of LSD Kemp passed to Brian Cuthbertson for tabletting, he received £200. One of Kemp’s early production runs, in Liverpool, produced 500 grams netting Kemp £100,000; a substantial sum of money in 1972.
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