The Great Speckled Bird Vol 2 # 19 July 21, 1969 pg. 3
Smack Conspiracy
art by Ron Ausburn
DON’T BE FORCED TO BUY-IF HE CAN GET HARD DRUGS HE CAN GET GRASS AND ACID- DEMAND AN ALTERNATIVE-IT’S YOUR LIFE- DON’T BE FORCED TO BUY
Write it off to paranoid delusions if you want, this story …
Early this year the United States government initiated a massive effort to dry up the flow of marijuana from Mexico to the U.S. The border was tightly sealed; growing fields in Mexico were destroyed by napalm and chemical defoliants dropped from U.S. planes flown by U.S. pilots; growers have been given long prison sentences by the Mexican government under pressure of
U.S. authorities.
This campaign was successful—grass is scarce from coast to coast, what is available is largely of poor quality and very expensive. It will be a month or so before the majority of the domestic crop is harvested and is on the market. . . Big Deal? Check out the scene—
Every major city in the United States, including Atlanta, has been hit in the last month by large quantities of heroin, seconol, amphetamines, and other “hard’ drugs, addictive drugs. The street is full of the shit, $5 a hit now, next week it will be $10, the month after $20, The Atlanta 14th Street area and similar sections of other cities throughout the nation will then be hit with the break-ins, burglaries and muggings which inevitably follow a heavy hard drug scene. This has not yet happens in Atlanta, but may if the scene gets heavier.
Everyone on the street knows what is going on, including, perhaps especially, the police—BUT NOBODY IS BEING BUSTED-not for heroin, not for amphetamine … an occasional bust for grass keeps the vice-squad happy…
What is happening, on a country-wide, coast-to-coast scale, is the knowing, government approved-if-not-directed, transformation of the hip street scene into a high crime hard drug scene, boosting Jedgar’s phoney addiction figures, justifying continued repression for possession of grass and acid, perhaps paving the way for the total destruction of the street scene in city after city by very willing police forces backed by “outraged” government officialdom and a totally media-manipulated public ..
It’s kind of like you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch- yours between the “Justice” department and the Syndicate, or so it looks from here.
—tc
Three friends and I were riding along Peachtree. We picked up a guy who was walking along 14th Street, and then decided to get some doughnuts. We looked for a Krispy Kreme along Peachtree but had no luck. Coming back, we were stopped at a red light when a police car pulled up behind us. After looking at us, the policeman backed up, looked at our license plate, then pulled alongside us again. He asked me how old I was. Everyone in the car stated their ages, from 17 to 21. He told us to pull over in the Sears parking lot. He followed us in and ordered us out of the car. After getting out, the policeman (who looked hardly twenty-one himself with blonde hair in a longish ‘surfer’ haircut) demanded to see our ID’S. He started firing questions. Everyone answered except the guy we had picked up. Then singled him out.
“Where did you get it?” the cop asked.
“Get what?”
“The dope you’re on.”
No answer.
“Look, punk, you better give me some answers if you don’t wanna go to jail. You understand?”
“What?”
“Don’t say ‘what’ to me, say ‘what, sir.’ ” Now the pig was shouting. “Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah what?” he screamed several times.
“Yeah, I understand.”
The cop pushed him over to the police car and threatened to ‘smash his head in the street.’ He put him in the back seat, yelled a lot more shit about sir and dope, and then came back. ..
“You’re all gonna be in a lotta trouble if you don’t tell me where he got the dope,” said Hynnes (the pig’s name).
“We don’t know, we were just letting him ride with us.” said Kathi Kanz, the owner of the car.
“Oh, sure you were,” said the pig.
After a lot more bullshit the pig and some reinforcements searched the car. Making us stand behind the car, and having some fellow pigs make sure we didn’t peep, Hynnes (the pig’s name) showed us a hypodermic needle point he supposedly found in a bag of candy. No one has yet determined how it got there unless the policeman put it there himself.
More and more bullshit, a search of the trunk, and a search of the girls’ purses. A pig found some pills.
“What are these?”
“Throat lozenges.”
“And these?”
“Dexedrine. My dentist gave them to me.”
“You got a prescription?”
“No, it’s in Florida.”
Meanwhile back at the police car (four more cars and a paddy wagon have arrived by now) about eight pigs are yelling at the guy in the back as they throw his cigarettes in the street, make him sit up straight, shine the flashlight in his eyes, and make him say ‘sir’ over and over.
Thirty minutes later we’re all in the paddy wagon. Hynnes (the worst pig of all) comes over to the car. Patti Kanz is charged with violation of the Dangerous Drug Act and Violation of the Beer and Wine Ordinance ( a half bottle of Seagram’s Seven was found under the seat). Bob Montgomery, Leroy Hurst and I are charged with the same thing. Kathi Kanz the owner of the car, is charged with the same plus contributing to the delinquency of minors.
“Don’t worry,” said Hynnes, “We’ll have you out before that Pop Festival.”
The next day we had our hearing. The cop lied about the liquor being in the back seat and the car smelling from alcohol.
He did not mention the hypodermic needle point supposedly “found” in the car. Bond is set at $1,000 each. We are transferred to Fulton County Jail.
After nine days in jail, a bondsman has been paid 10% and we’re finally out. We have a lawyer. We’ve spent around $500 already, not counting the lawyer’s fee. If we’re found guilty, which our lawyer says isn’t very probable, chances are the penalty won’t be as severe as what’s happened already while we’re still innocent.
S/Richard Rochester