Charles Manson Behind Bars (25 page)

He is a man’s man, in many ways. He is the super “alpha” male in our society. If there is one thing that he desires, indeed demands, it is absolute power and control. Accordingly, he demanded an absolute allegiance of his followers back in the 1960s, far surpassing anything that David Koresh, Jim Jones, or any other well-known cult leader required of his or her minions. His demands were backed up by murderous threats and example killings that any organized crime boss would recognize. During the hippie movement, he was a religious leader and the center of a crime syndicate, all rolled into one organization and represented in one, lone human who became a cultural icon. He accomplished all he did with an almost total lack of education.

While he preached good and evil, Charlie also embodied it. Where there is good, there is evil also. This needs to be understood to have a correct perspective on Charlie. Charlie’s dark sides, his infatuation with fear and death, stemmed from the fact that he believes himself to be the antichrist in the flesh. People in positions of power have to believe in their own abilities or they will not be held in great esteem by their followers. Charlie came to believe that he could control all situations that faced him and his “family.” Yet deep down, Charlie always knew that he was nothing more than a disadvantaged, unwanted child who grew into a troubled adult. Charlie spent his life on a crusade to prove himself, somehow, somewhere.

Partly as a result of his troubled upbringing and his ability to manipulate, and partly due to the demands of his followers, Charlie began to display Messianic qualities. He believed himself to be Jesus Christ returned to the world. However, his low self-esteem led him to believe that his charm alone was insufficient to lead his flock. He told his family members in the 1960s that he was not only Jesus but also the Devil, in the same way that he told this to me, over and over. Now that I understand Charlie a little bit more, I can understand what he was doing.

He was controlling others in any way he could. If you hit a dog hard enough and often enough, he will become violent and bite. Unloved, abused, neglected, and abandoned, Manson came to be attracted to evil as a means to gain the upper hand over others. He identified with evil, but always claimed righteousness at the same time. He liked the German Swastika, the five pointed star, and any other sign or symbol that was embraced by Satan worshippers. Though he studied Satanism, as well as Scientology, hypnotism, and a host of other philosophies and practices, he never fully embraced any of them. He instead chose a philosophy of eclecticism that eagerly embraced evil and anything that was frightening and intimidating. Concurrently, he proclaimed the good, claiming innocence and purity for himself. It was a conflicted philosophy that accomplished exactly what Charlie desired: confusion among his followers and enemies alike. While muddling the thoughts of others, Charlie could remain firmly in control.

Charlie is the most manipulative, psychologically astute, resourceful and cunning person that I’ve ever met. He is able to read people and craft his message into words that will entice his audience. He has been accused of meting out mind control. This is true in as much as he is able to figure out what motivates others and use this knowledge to his own advantage. It is this cunning and manipulativeness that prompted Rolling Stone magazine to label Charlie as “the most dangerous man alive.” At times, I wondered whether I had been given narcotics by him, particularly LSD, because the effect he had on me had been so great.

As I came to understand who he was and what made him tick, I feel I grew personally, and I learned not to fear him. He was nothing to be afraid of, even though he could talk tough and yell loudly. He wasn’t dangerous, and may never have been. If he were ever released, he would be a curiosity, a celebrity, and an icon of the 1960s, but probably nothing more. He is all these things already. Despite his threats, breathed in bravado, I have no reason to believe that anyone would actually be killed, or any laws would be broken. Charlie would likely promote edgy products like motorcycles and mixed martial arts matches. He would live in Malibu, enjoying a large beachfront property. He would entertain guests and throw poolside parties. For a laugh, he would make threats and stir up some controversy or another. Through a careful public relations campaign, he would increase his fame and enjoy the fortune that his notoriety would bring. He would also continue to mellow as he advanced in age.

Charlie never expressed to me a desire to be set free. He told me on several occasions that he didn’t want parole.

“This is my life. I don’t know what it is like to be on the outside.” he once said. In the past, he attended parole hearings, even requested to be released. He knew he would be denied, however. He claimed that the same government that had set him up and convicted him would be there to ensure that he was never released. He had come to accept that; in his mind, it was the price he paid for being so good to so many people. In his opinion, the world was not ready for the truth that he taught, perhaps never would be. It was not ready to face up to its own criminality, its own destruction of the environment, and its own systemic injustices.

If he were ever granted his freedom again, he once told me, he would return to Southern California. He admitted to me that he wouldn’t know who to visit or where to go, specifically, but he loved the area for its beauty and its weather. He loved the Hollywood sunsets, the warm winters, and the soothing swims in the Pacific Ocean.

In time, I was transferred to my current prison home, Pleasant Valley State Correctional Center, exactly 180 miles from San Francisco and 180 miles from Los Angeles. Though I am only a few miles away from my former home, I might as well be on the other side of the solar system. I could not be further from Charlie if I were on another planet.

I was glad to be away from Corcoran when I left. To be moved, for me, was a dream come true. I was not happy with the prison officials at Corcoran. I didn’t trust them after repeated disruptions, including changes to schedules, skipped trips to the yard, and a general feeling that no one was responsible for anything. A prisoner has very little control over his life. When schedules are changed haphazardly and promised activities are cancelled, it is really hard on an inmate’s psyche. There were times that I was ready to scream because of the repeated failures and false promises of the system.

I had requested the transfer to that horrible facility in the first place, and that only made my time there more difficult: I had no one to blame but myself. I requested a transfer to yet another institution in the knowledge that no prison could be as bad as Corcoran. I was given permission to transfer away from there within weeks of my initial request. I was elated.

Yet, the joy of being transferred away was tempered by the loss of my friendship with Charlie. I had gotten to know him so well. I felt so close to him that to leave him was like having a limb removed. I had been changed by the man in such a way that I could never go back to my former self. I only wish that I could still be near him to learn and grow more. It would be nice to dream that Charlie could be transferred here someday, but I know how unlikely that is.

The first days here in Pleasant Valley were the most difficult as I adjusted to new surroundings, new guards, and no late-night conversations with “the old man.” I came to know new people here, but it was not the same. I burned inside as I lay in bed reminiscing about our good times. As an inmate, observing many prison transfers, both my own and others’, I have grown accustomed to saying, “Good bye,” but this time it was different. It really hurt to leave Charlie. I was seared with a pain that I cannot even begin to describe. I had held off on my transfer request for many months because I enjoyed talking to Charlie so much.

I have had to do much reconsidering, these past few months. With Charlie no longer around, with no more of his stories and no more of his charming smiles, the silver in his tongue has started to tarnish. I have begun to see him in a new light. Perhaps, I needed him at the time to teach me and counsel me. Now it is time for me to move on, to rely on myself and my own abilities. I have started to notice that some of the things he taught me were not helpful or true.

He told me on repeated occasions that he was born on the same day that the United States Marine Corps was founded. That made a great story, adding to his mythic stature. If he were born at the same time as the Marine Corps, he must be strong, self reliant, and as bold as a marine. Perhaps that whole corps is strong only because of its association with Charles Manson. However, I later found out that the Marine Corps was founded near the birth of our country, in 1775. His tale was a lie so large that it defied challenge for years.

I began to wonder whether he got other facts wrong too. Did fellow inmates have a similar experience of believing Charlie at his word because he was so charming and compelling? His strength, borne out of a thousand conflicts and abusive events in his life, could intimidate anyone, could even compel someone to sidestep common reason. Maybe the facts of his stories, or some of the stories themselves, were only convenient excuses to assert control or build his reputation. Stories are a dime and dozen behind bars. One who can tell convincing stories to an inmate must be a veritable Shakespearean actor.

Many of the stories Charlie told me did prove true. I believe that he made every effort to be honest with me. He repeatedly told me to be truthful to him; it’s nice to see that for the most part, he was honest as well. Other stories remain unconfirmed, however. I want to believe them, just as I want to believe the man. I will give him the benefit of the doubt until it can be proven otherwise. I guess I still owe him that level of respect. He has done so much good to me, and for me, that I cannot now join the chorus of voices that call for his obliteration. Sure, he has his bad side—who doesn’t? However, it’s his good side for which I plan to remember him. Perhaps, he has gained a control over me that I cannot easily shed. If that is the case, I don’t care. He’s such a great person who has given so much of himself that I cannot now, nor ever will be able to, hate him. I remain a Charles Manson lover, though my adoration is tinged with the reality that he may have been involved in some exceedingly heinous crimes.

Historians may not remember his good side. Future generations may only see a violent, death-obsessed cult leader. However, for good or ill, he has become an icon in our society. While he may have contributed negative elements to the 1960s, he has also become a spokesperson for a 1960s type of love and for respectful treatment of Mother Earth. He is also a role model for personal self-confidence. For better or worse, we need to acknowledge him and his notoriety. We ignore him or call him names to our own detriment. What does it say about our society that we celebrate Charles Manson? What commentary does Charlie provide to our society about how we can make it better and avoid raising additional “Charlie’s” in our midst?

I hope you have enjoyed reading this book as much as I have enjoyed putting down in words what has happened to me, what I saw and heard, and how I was transformed in the process of my dealings with Charles Manson. I hope you are proud to read about a real convict and how I handled my business the way it’s supposed to be handled: with loyalty, honor, respect, and love. It’s my hope that his book will have a positive affect on you, even as it sheds light on a dark chapter of our past and clarifies some misconceptions and provides new information about an American celebrity.

I remain pleased with my association with Charlie. I am happy to consider myself a “family” member, even though I was not present in his heyday. I never knew the old man on the outside, but I have followed him nonetheless. I didn’t participate in any of his murders, or agree to do anything wrong simply because he told me to, but I still claim him as my own. Whether he concurs or not, I wear with pride the title, “the last member of the Manson Family.”

Guillermo “Boxcar” Mendez

Pleasant Valley State Prison, California, 2013

Ace Duce:
two prisoners who watch each others’ backs and offer protection on the streets or in jail, in peace and in war. Each will fight to the death, or kill, for the other.

Board-up:
to cover the cell windows from the inside to prevent the “one time” or guard from seeing inside the cell. It gives the guard cause to open the door to the cell, unscheduled, at any time of day or night.

Bullet:
one year in the system. For example, “I have two bullets to do and one bullet on parole.”

Car:
any type of weight used on the end of a string, rope or fishing line, such as a rock or piece of wood. To receive an item from an inmate in another cell, a “car” is slid or thrown to the other cell, affixed with a note or item, then pulled back by its “fish line” or string.

Care Package:
a bag of items for someone who is serving time. Generally, it consists of hygiene items such as soap, razor, deodorant, toothpaste, comb, and toothbrush. It sometimes contains candy, food, cigarettes, envelopes, stamps, writing paper, and pens.

Convict:
a seasoned veteran within the prison system who has done time instead of letting the time do him. He does not need a guide to instruct him on how to do time because, for him, it is a way of life. Generally, he is a career criminal on the life plan, doing one year at a time.

Deck:
a pack of cigarettes. Ten decks is a stack, or carton, of cigarettes.

Dig:
“Do you understand what I am saying?” or, “are you following me?” This term was used by hippies in the late 1960s. Charles Manson continues to use this term: like most inmates, his cultural growth arrested once he entered the system.

Fish line:
string, rope or fishing line used with a weight, called a “car,” to transport items from one cell to another.

House:
a cell. It’s someone’s home. Like a castle, it is to be defended at all costs. A house is out of bounds to everyone except those who have been given explicit permission to enter. Violation of another inmate’s “house” merits death.