It was 1962, and there was a sense of awakening in the air, a call to a different kind of life.
Young people hearing the siren song were pouring into San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury District from across the nation. A once-declining neighborhood, the Haight was blossoming overnight into a counterculture Mecca, spreading the new consciousness in a chaotic profusion of hippie pads, light shows, and drugs.
One sunny spring day, we met at an anarchist meeting.
Richard’s father, Julius, was a tough Marxist revolutionary who had known Chinese premier Mao Tse Tung prior to the 1949 communist takeover in China and had organized cannery workers from Monterey to San Francisco. Now he supported a hotbed of radical leftists who ran Ye Olde Anarchiste Bookstore in the Nathan storefront apartment on Ocean Avenue.
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