Charles Manson: Harmony and Chaos

[00:00:13] Welcome to Crime Time Inc, where we, two former murder squad detectives, take you beyond the headlines and into these investigations. Every crime scene tells a story. Every piece of evidence reveals a truth. Sometimes the most revealing cases are the ones we thought we knew all about. Some episodes contain discussions of real crimes that may include graphic descriptions of violence, criminal behaviour and references of a

[00:00:43] sexual nature that some listeners may find disturbing. The details presented are included for factual accuracy and to provide a complete understanding of the investigation as experienced by law enforcement. Listener discretion is strongly advised.

[00:01:05] Siegis altes MoFa ist hin. Darum holt er sich den EasyCredit Sofortkredit mit finanziellem Spielraum. So bezahlt er seinen neuen E-Roller und reserviert sich Geld für später. Wenn er wieder etwas braucht, lässt er sich einfach und sicher über die EasyCredit Plus App auszahlen. Er muss keinen neuen Kredit abschließen. Macht's wie Siggi. Finanziert ganz entspannt. Mit EasyCredit. Welcome back to Crime Time Inc. My name's Alex and this is Episode 6 of our Charles Manson Series.

[00:01:36] From their 1961 hit Surfing to 1966's Good Vibrations, no American band was bigger than the Beach Boys. Their success came from Brian Wilson's songwriting and his genius for layering harmonies with studio musicians. Their sound was unique, but their look was ordinary. Only drummer Dennis Wilson had the aura of a teen idol, though his reckless lifestyle made him the band's wild card.

[00:02:02] Dennis lived for risk. He was the only Beach Boy who actually surfed and thrived on danger, once sneaking onto the World Trade Center construction site to swing from scaffolding high above the city. His drumming was average, but his energy on stage made up for it. The rest of the band, frustrated by his immaturity, overlooked his potential as a songwriter. By 1967, the Beach Boys' influence was fading, and skipping the Monterey Pop Festival only sped up their decline.

[00:02:31] In 1968, their album Friends flopped, barely charting. No one noticed that two songs, including Little Bird, were co-written by Dennis, arguably stronger than anything Brian contributed. He wanted to write more, but he struggled with lyrics and needed a collaborator. By then, Dennis was coasting on past fame, with no guarantee of a comeback. Still, he didn't dwell on it.

[00:02:56] He had money, though the band tried to control his spending, and a legendary home, Will Rogers' Old Hunting Lodge in L.A. Will Rogers was the highest paid actor in Hollywood at the time of his death in an airplane crash in 1935. It became a nonstop party house, filled with friends, drifters, and whoever caught Dennis' eye. He was generous, offering food, drugs, and gifts freely, as if trying to make up for a success he never quite felt he deserved.

[00:03:26] The Wilson brothers came from a rough, working-class background. Their father, Murray Wilson, owned a small machinist shop and was a frustrated musician with a violent temper. He physically abused his sons, Dennis most of all, and belittled their success, even as he insisted on managing the Beach Boys. Eventually, they worked up the nerve to fire him, but the damage was done. Brian carried the most obvious scars, but Dennis harbored deep resentment.

[00:03:54] Dennis had a habit of picking up hitchhikers, so when he offered Pat and Yeller a ride and some milk and cookies, it was nothing unusual. He didn't know who they were, and they had no clue he was a Beach Boy. But when they mentioned Charlie Manson, Dennis was intrigued. Later that night, Dennis pulled into his driveway and was shocked to see his house already occupied. Manson stepped out the back door, greeting him like an old friend. Unnerved, Dennis asked,

[00:04:23] Charlie dropped to his knees, kissed his feet, and reassured him. Inside, the scene was chaotic. Topless girls, music blasting, and a bus parked outside. Dennis, never one to turn down a party, let them stay. He was captivated, especially by the women who eagerly indulged his every whim. But Charlie had his own kind of seduction. He told Dennis that good and bad were the same, that guilt was pointless, and that parents ruined their children.

[00:04:53] That hit home. Dennis opened up about his father's abuse, and before long, he was convinced. Charlie had wisdom that needed to be shared. The first friend Wilson contacted was Greg Jacobson, who worked as a talent scout and session arranger and was also trying to write songs with Dennis. Though few outside the innermost L.A. music scene knew his name, Jacobson was a critical player.

[00:05:18] Adopted by the chief of detectives in St. Paul, Minnesota, and his wife, Jacobson moved to Venice, California, with his mother and sisters after his father died. He was enrolled in University High, popularly known as Uni High, where he got to know Nancy Sinatra. Dean Martin's daughter, Deanna, was one of his first girlfriends. Soon, Jacobson was getting lots of work as a movie extra, and when some of his buddies, like Terry Melcher,

[00:05:45] got into rock bands and started cutting records, Greg got involved in that too, helping line up studio musicians and arrange session dates. He wasn't in a band himself because he had a terrible singing voice. Jacobson met Dennis Wilson in 1963. Melcher's band was scheduled to open for the Beach Boys at a show in Hawaii. Melcher suggested that Jacobson come along on the trip. When he explained he couldn't afford a plane ticket,

[00:06:14] Melcher offhandedly asked him to suggest some song titles. Off the top of his head, Jacobson threw out Big Wednesday, Two's a Crowd, and a third title. Melcher called singer Bobby Darin, who owned a music publishing company, rattled off Jacobson's impromptu titles and told him that soon he would have these three new songs for sale. Darren gave Melcher an advance of $1,000, Melcher gave the money to Jacobson, and off they went to Hawaii.

[00:06:42] Jacobson met Dennis Wilson there at a pre-concert press conference. Wilson was bored, Jacobson suggested they skip out and go ride motorcycles, and a fast friendship began. When everybody got home, Jacobson helped Melcher write the three songs for Darren's publishing company. From then on, Jacobson, Melcher, and Wilson were inseparable. Soon afterward, when Melcher became a Boy Wonder producer at Columbia, he hired Jacobson to scout available talent and to arrange studio sessions.

[00:07:12] That made Jacobson an important player in the L.A. music scene. Wilson called Jacobson the second night that Charlie and his followers were at the house, insisting, you've got to come over and meet these people. And the next day, Jacobson did. At first, he didn't think they were anything special. To Jacobson, this was Dennis being Dennis, taking in some strays and getting overly enthusiastic about how great they were.

[00:07:40] He always got bored, and the people moved on and were soon forgotten. But Wilson had told Charlie all about Jacobson, why an aspiring singer-songwriter like Charlie ought to know him. So Charlie got Jacobson to one side and started talking, laying down the most interesting rap. And then he introduced Jacobson to Ruth Ann Morehouse. Wilson wasn't very picky about girls. He'd go after pretty much anything. But Jacobson was married to comedian Lou Costello's daughter Carol,

[00:08:09] and while he wasn't strictly faithful, he was cautious. He found Ruth Ann irresistible, though, and they began what he later termed a little thing. Meaning that whenever he was around Charlie, Charlie usually paired him off with Ruth Ann. And so Jacobson was always happy to come by. Even though Charlie forbade his followers to form individual attachments, Ruth Ann liked Greg too, and the other women teased her about it.

[00:08:38] When Jacobson wasn't rolling around with Ruth Ann, Charlie would talk to him about the music business. About who Jacobson knew. Jacobson realized what the deal was. People tried to get him to use his contacts on their behalf all the time. He and Wilson listened to Charlie play some of his songs while the women sang along on the choruses. Jacobson thought that there might be something there, though his gut instinct was that Charlie was more interesting to look at than to listen to.

[00:09:05] But Wilson, always prone to go overboard, decided that Charlie was a genius. He took Charlie over to the offices of Brother Records so he could audition for the management there. Nobody at Brother Records was impressed with Dennis Wilson's latest discovery. The label was supposed to let each beach boy find and promote new talent, but after a cancelled tour drained their finances, the others had no faith in Dennis' judgment.

[00:09:35] He was told that Charlie Manson wasn't getting a deal just because he said so. Charlie didn't help his case. He showed up at the office, acting like he owned the place. Filthy, smelly, and strumming the same few chords on his guitar for hours. The staff mockingly called him Pig Pen after the Peanuts character. But Dennis wouldn't let it go. He raved about Charlie to his bandmates, industry friends, and even the media. In an interview with Rave, a British magazine,

[00:10:04] Dennis described his new friend, whom he called the Wizard, as someone who was both God and the devil, a poet and a musician who may be another artist for Brother Records. But the label wasn't convinced. They saw no commercial potential in Charlie's crude songs and hoped Dennis would lose interest. Charlie, however, had no plans to leave. His followers drifted between Spahn Ranch and Dennis' Sunset Boulevard mansion,

[00:10:32] enjoying its luxuries, especially the bathrooms. Despite the freeloading, the women genuinely liked Dennis. He wasn't like the other beach boys who seemed uptight and judgmental. With Charlie, Dennis had been drawn to a philosophy that rejected fear. Now he was reveling in reckless fun, racing his Rolls Royce down the freeway, packed with Manson's girls, pulling up alongside other luxury cars just to make faces at the rich and proper drivers.

[00:11:00] Charlie knew better than to push his music on Dennis all the time. Instead, he encouraged Dennis to play his own songs, creating an illusion of mutual artistic respect. But behind the scenes, Charlie was in control. His women followed orders without question, even when it came to orchestrated orgies for Dennis and his friends, where they stripped naked, played fairies, and rewarded the men who caught them. Greg Jacobson, a songwriter and producer,

[00:11:28] noticed that every time he visited, Charlie and his followers were always there, lounging by the pool, raiding the fridge, blasting music. They weren't just guests anymore. They had settled in. And they had no intention of leaving. The team at Brother Records couldn't believe Dennis Wilson was still letting Charlie Manson hang around. They were so concerned, they hired a private detective to dig into his background. What they found was alarming.

[00:11:57] Charlie had done hard time and was still on probation. But when Dennis heard the news, he wasn't worried. He was thrilled. Charlie had told him stories about being locked up, but plenty of wannabe outlaws claimed to be victims of the man. Now Dennis had proof that Charlie was the real deal, an actual ex-con. To him, that made Charlie even more fascinating. Dennis' home was a revolving door for LA's rock elite, where no invitation was needed.

[00:12:26] Musicians just dropped in, and if one wasn't home, they'd move on to the next. Charlie took full advantage, meeting industry insiders and playing his songs for anyone willing to listen. That wasn't unusual. Successful musicians always had protégés hanging around, hoping for a shot at fame. What was unusual was how aggressively Dennis promoted Charlie. One day, Neil Young stopped by and jammed with him, tossing out chords while Charlie improvised lyrics.

[00:12:55] Young was impressed enough to suggest him to Mo Austin, the head of Warner Bros. Records. This guy is unbelievable, he told Austin. He makes the songs up as he goes along, and they're all good. But Austin wasn't convinced and never gave Charlie a real audition. Charlie was starting to see a pattern. Even with powerful connections like Dennis Wilson and Neil Young, he still didn't have a record deal. He needed someone even higher up in the industry.

[00:13:25] Thanks to Dennis and his friend Greg Jacobson, Charlie thought he knew just the guy. Terry Melcher In 1968, Melcher was one of the most influential figures in American music. The son of actress Doris Day, he had been raised under the strict religious rule of his stepfather, Marty Melcher. Though he started as a musician himself, Terry made his real mark as a producer.

[00:13:49] At just 22, he signed the Byrds to Columbia Records, turning Mr. Tambourine Man into a massive hit. He didn't stop there. He also took Paul Revere and the Raiders from regional success to chart domination. Melcher was a hit maker, and in the music industry, that meant power. He had Columbia's money behind him and the freedom to sign anyone he wanted. To help him scout talent, he brought on Greg Jacobson.

[00:14:15] And Charlie Manson was about to make sure Melcher noticed him. To Charlie Manson, getting a record deal from Terry Melcher should have been easy. Jacobson liked Charlie. Melcher had hired Jacobson to find new talent. So, logically, Jacobson would recommend Charlie and Melcher would sign him. Simple. But it wasn't that simple. Terry Melcher was 26, wealthy and well-connected.

[00:14:42] He spent his days hanging out with Dennis Wilson and Greg Jacobson, smoking weed, chasing women, and then returning home to his luxurious Cielo Drive cottage, where his girlfriend, actress Candy Bergen, was waiting. But unlike Wilson, Melcher drew a firm line between fun and business. He didn't hand out record deals just because someone seemed interesting. He was cautious, selective about the people he associated with, and careful about who he let into his world.

[00:15:10] Having grown up as Doris Day's son in a gated, high-security community, Melcher had been warned about hustlers. Even though he trusted Jacobson, he wasn't going to sign an artist just because his friends suggested it. If the music couldn't make the label money, it didn't matter how talented someone was. Jacobson understood that. So, instead of pushing Charlie on Melcher, he took a more subtle approach.

[00:15:36] He casually mentioned Charlie in conversation, describing him as an odd but fascinating guy with a group of devoted female followers. Women so loyal, they scavenged for food in grocery store dumpsters and obeyed his every command. Oh, and by the way, Charlie also wrote music. Maybe Melcher should stop by Dennis' place and meet him. So Terry did. Charlie turned on the charm. But Melcher had been schmoozed by hundreds of wannabe rock stars before.

[00:16:06] He wasn't automatically impressed. He didn't ask Charlie to play for him. Instead, he was more interested in getting to know Ruth Ann Morehouse, a strikingly beautiful teenager from Charlie's group. Charlie, eager to please, happily set them up. Melcher was so taken with Ruth Ann that he told Jacobson he was thinking about moving her into his house at Cielo Drive as a housekeeper. But Candy Bergen saw right through that idea and shut it down immediately.

[00:16:36] Jacobson didn't mind Terry's interest in Ruth Ann. It was the era of free love, and sharing partners was just part of the culture. He also wasn't going to pressure Melcher about Charlie. Either a record deal would happen or it wouldn't. Besides, Jacobson was beginning to see Charlie as more of a character than a musician. Maybe he wasn't destined for a record deal. But what about a different kind of stardom?

[00:17:02] What if Charlie and his group were the subject of a film? Jacobson thought they might make for an interesting documentary, maybe even a hit TV special. As he sketched out a proposal, he struggled to describe Charlie's followers. Then he remembered how they referred to themselves. The family. Jacobson used the term in conversations with Melcher, Wilson, and even Charlie himself. Everybody liked it. And from that moment on, it stuck.

[00:17:32] From that point on, they were Charlie and the family. Or as some people called them, the Manson family. The Doors got signed by Electra Records rep Jack Holzman in 1966. The Doors were brought to Holzman's attention by Arthur Lee of the band Love. Formerly, they had been called the Grassroots and contained a member named Bobby Beausoleil.

[00:17:56] Bobby B, as he was often known, was also a member of Charlie Manson's short-lived band, the Milky Way. The Milky Way only played one live gig at a place called the Corral. The Doors frequented and played the corral a lot before they got signed. In fact, it is rumored to have been somewhat of an inspiration for the song Roadhouse Blues. Morrison and Manson frequented many of the same hippie hangouts. The Castle, a home once owned by Bela Lugosi, for example.

[00:18:25] It is entirely fair to say that Morrison and Manson certainly existed within each other's orbit. Manson and Morrison shared an affinity for drugs, women, and a powerful disdain for the establishment. There is no question that Morrison had a massive amount of anger that often came out sideways, especially when coupled with drugs and alcohol. Many years later, Ray Manzarek and Robbie Krieger recounted meeting Charlie Manson. Ray said,

[00:18:55] A lot of Morrison's stuff was from poetry he had written in high school. I think Manson, too, was part of that. Robbie said, Jim picked Charles Manson up hitchhiking one day. Jim and the Beach Boys drummer Dennis, the two of them were driving down Sunset Boulevard. They picked up Charlie with his guitar, and he was going to play his demo for Terry Melcher. There is no question that Morrison's upbringing was nowhere near as tragic or traumatizing as Manson's.

[00:19:24] But perhaps if Manson had a college vocabulary and Morrison's good looks and a proper support system, he may have been the one to make it in the music industry. Manson's appearance was always disheveled. Like a wild-eyed hobbit, he clearly didn't have a fancy hairdresser like Morrison did. Morrison's hairdresser and longtime friend was a man named Jay Sebring. After this quick break, we'll hear how Michael Caine met Charles Manson.

[00:19:52] We're going to see you.

[00:20:28] Michael Caine wrote in his autobiography, I had become very good friends with Mama Cass, the singer with the Mamas and the Papas, and one night she invited me to a party given for the birthday of some rock and roll singer. She introduced Johnny, Morris, and myself to a lot of musicians who were obviously famous, as one could tell by their entourages, who hung on their every word or in most cases mumble. Hollywood gossip columnist and close friend of Sharon Tate and Roman Polanski,

[00:20:57] Steve Brandt came by for a while but had to leave. Then, Sharon Tate came in with a whole group of people, including my friend and barber Jay Sebring. Johnny and I were beginning to enjoy ourselves when a scruffy little man came in with some girls who were not only scruffy but really dirty. They seemed quite out of place there and I couldn't think who could have invited them. Mama Cass introduced me to the guy who did not shake hands but just said hi

[00:21:26] and looked me up and down for a moment in a way that gave me the creeps. This is Charles Manson, said Mama Cass. He smiled and walked away. Johnny is normally a fearless type of guy, but he became immediately uneasy then and when I asked him what the matter was, he said, Let's get out of here. I don't like that little guy. Let's go. We don't need to be with people like this.

[00:21:52] Charlie was desperate to attach himself to Terry Melcher the way he had with Dennis Wilson, but it wasn't working. Sure, he saw Melcher at Wilson's house. Sometimes they went out together. Melcher, Jacobson, Wilson, and Charlie. But that was as far as it went. No matter how hard he tried, Charlie never got an invite to Melcher's legendary parties at Cielo Drive. He never set foot inside the house. Wilson and Jacobson raved about the place.

[00:22:20] How Melcher always had a live band. How guests spilled out through sliding glass doors into a party room with a sweeping view of the city. But Melcher was selective about who he let in. Most guests never even saw the bedrooms or his private spaces. The closest Charlie ever got was when Wilson gave Melcher a ride home one day. Charlie tagged along in the backseat, hoping this was his chance.

[00:22:45] But when they pulled up to the house, Melcher got out, said a polite goodbye, and shut the door behind him. Even in social settings, at other people's parties or out on the town, Melcher kept Charlie at arm's length. He wasn't rude about it. He'd learn from his movie star mother how to appear warm and friendly without actually letting people in. And still, he hadn't listened to Charlie's music.

[00:23:11] Charlie was convinced that if Melcher just heard his songs, he'd be won over. But he also knew that pushing too hard would backfire, so he played the waiting game. After all, he still had Dennis Wilson and Brother Records on his side. Charlie spent the next few weeks strengthening his hold on Wilson. He invited him along on the family's garbage runs, and Wilson got a twisted thrill out of pulling his Ferrari into supermarket backlots

[00:23:39] to watch the girls dive into dumpsters for food. Charlie also picked up on something else. Wilson had a quiet but deep-rooted racist streak. In private, they shared their disdain for black people, though Charlie made sure the girls never overheard. After all, his teachings were all about universal love and equality. But most of all, Charlie fed Wilson's wounded ego. The Beach Boys drummer believed he had the talent to write and record great music

[00:24:09] if only the rest of the band would let him. He and Charlie talked about writing together. Wilson even mentioned getting some informal help from a friend on lyrics. To Wilson, it was a casual idea. To Charlie, it was an invitation to become the Beach Boys songwriter. He started composing new material. One song, Garbage Dump, was inspired by the family's way of life. You could feed the world with my garbage dump. That sums it up in one big lump.

[00:24:39] Another, Cease to Exist, was a direct reflection of Charlie's philosophy. Submission is a gift, so go on, give it to your brother. Charlie would later claim the song was a message to the Beach Boys, telling them to surrender their egos and work together. But the lyrics tell a different story. The song is directed at a woman, urging her to cease to exist and prove her love by giving up everything for him. Charlie handed the songs over to Wilson.

[00:25:09] He was open to the music being changed, but the lyrics had to stay exactly as he wrote them. Because in Charlie's mind, his words weren't just lyrics. They were gospel. Charlie kept working on Greg Jacobson. Sure, Jacobson hadn't convinced Melcher to sign him yet, but Melcher wasn't the only producer in town. Jacobson had plenty of industry connections, and Charlie needed all the allies he could get. So he played nice.

[00:25:38] He let Jacobson play with Ruth Ann. He indulged him in long, meandering philosophical conversations. Jacobson liked that sort of thing. Not that he was totally buying into Charlie's act. Every now and then, he'd cut through the nonsense. You're full of shit, he'd tell him bluntly. Charlie didn't argue. Not with Jacobson. There was no audience of family members around to hear it, and Jacobson was still useful to him.

[00:26:06] But the more time Jacobson spent around Charlie, the more he noticed something unsettling. The girls adored Charlie, but they also feared him. Every now and then, when Charlie corrected them, calling out some minor mistake, some selfish impulse, they flinched. That didn't quite line up with all his talk about love and acceptance. And for the record, Charlie hated being called a hippie. He rejected the term entirely. Hippies were soft.

[00:26:35] Hippies were pacifists. Hippies weren't ready for what was coming. Because Charlie wasn't just preaching love. He was hinting at something bigger. A reckoning. A violent upheaval that would tear through the world. Hippies wouldn't survive it. But Charlie? Charlie and his family would. They weren't hippies. They were slippies. People who had slipped through the cracks of society. The family ate it up,

[00:27:04] and they embraced Jacobson as one of their own. They even gave him a nickname, Angel. In their eyes, he was pure, untainted by bad parenting because he'd been adopted as an infant. His biological parents never had the chance to ruin him. Charlie, meanwhile, was still chasing his record deal. To keep him happy, and maybe just to see what Charlie's music actually sounded like, Jacobson booked a quick, low-budget recording session at a tiny studio in Van Nuys.

[00:27:34] Charlie brought the family along. On some tracks, the girls sang back up, thin, shaky voices that barely held a tune. Charlie ran through his songs, Garbage Dump, Ceased to Exist, A Dozen More. The results? Listenable. But not much more than that. It wasn't clear if Charlie was just an average musical talent, or if the cheap studio setup was holding him back. Either way, Charlie loved what he heard. He had the tapes now,

[00:28:04] and with all the people he knew in the L.A. music scene, he started passing them around. John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas gave them a listen. So did Rudy Altobelli, the big-time agent whose clients included folk star Buffy St. Marie. Both of them passed. Charlie wasn't fazed. If they didn't see his brilliance, that was their failure, their bad judgment, not his. So he held on to the tapes, kept pushing,

[00:28:33] kept looking for someone important enough to recognize his talent. And more than ever, he was convinced Dennis Wilson was the key. Dennis owed him. After all, they were friends. But Charlie and the family weren't the only lost souls drifting into Wilson's orbit that spring and summer. Wilson had a habit of picking up strays, anyone who caught his interest. After this quick break, we'll hear how Dennis and the family met the man who would go on

[00:29:02] to commit the most sickening acts of this whole story. One day, while out hitchhiking, it was the late 60s. Everybody did it, even rock stars. Wilson got picked up by a tall, lanky 21-year-old in a battered pickup truck. And that ride would lead to another strange chapter in Wilson's already chaotic life. Charles Watson was a Texas boy, born and raised in Copeville, a tiny speck of a town outside Dallas.

[00:29:31] His parents ran a small gas station slash grocery store. The town was so small that kids had to go to high school in Farmersville, a place with just over 2,000 people, which, compared to Copeville, was practically a big city. Watson thrived at Farmersville High. He was a star athlete, played on all the sports teams, earned honorable mention as an all-district running back two years in a row. He wasn't just a star athlete, though.

[00:30:00] He wrote for the school newspaper, acted in drama club, even won an award for a fire prevention poster. And the girls? They loved him. Those bright blue eyes, that bristly crew cut. He had it all. Summers were for sorting onions in local produce sheds, for water skiing on the lake with friends. And when he left for college about 50 miles away in Denton, everyone figured he'd go far. But something changed.

[00:30:29] In Denton, Watson found drugs. College didn't last long after that. He dropped out, took a job at the Dallas airport. And then just like that, he was gone. Word spread back home. Watson had moved to California. Because Watson was always good at whatever he did, people assumed the best. Some said he was in Hollywood, that he was starring in Coca-Cola commercials. The girls who'd swooned over him in high school? They were sure he was going

[00:30:59] to be a movie star. But in reality, Watson wasn't chasing fame. He was just drifting, scraping by with a job at a wig shop, getting high as often as possible, soaking in the laid-back California vibe. And then he got lucky. One day, while driving through L.A., he picked up a hitchhiker. A famous one. Dennis Wilson. Wilson invited Watson back to his place. And when they arrived,

[00:31:28] Charlie and the family were already there. Watson was mesmerized. Charlie had everything he wanted. Women, drugs, a philosophy that erased any sense of guilt. And Charlie? He took one look at Watson and saw something he wanted. A man. Charlie needed more men in the family, especially one like Watson, skilled with cars, eager to follow orders. Charlie barely had to convince him. Watson was begging to join.

[00:31:58] The family gave him the inevitable nickname, Tex. He was useful, always willing to run errands. And before long, Tex Watson became one of the very few people Charlie trusted enough to go with him to Terry Melcher's house on Cielo Drive. Watson went to borrow a car for a trip up north. But it wouldn't be the last time he'd set foot on Cielo. Tex wasn't Charlie's only new recruit. Dean Morehouse, the same man who just months earlier

[00:32:28] had nearly shot Charlie, came crawling back, asking to join the family. Turns out, Morehouse had developed a taste for drugs. And, just as disturbingly, an even bigger taste for Charlie's girls. Charlie wasn't about to make Ruth Ann's father a full-fledged member of the family. But Dennis Wilson liked him, hired him as a handyman slash gardener, set him up with a bed in a cabin by the pool. Before long,

[00:32:57] Morehouse became a fixture at Wilson's place. Roaming the property, white beard and big belly, making him look like some kind of hippie Santa Claus. But then, complaints started trickling in. The family women didn't like how he touched them. Morehouse started wearing out his welcome. He was never fully kicked out, but his role was diminished. Charlie kept him around, just enough to be useful. Just enough to control him.

[00:33:27] And in Charlie's world, that was always the goal. Teenager Brooks Poston was a much more valued arrival. He showed up one day at Wilson's and was immediately awed by Charlie. Charlie was glad to add another guy to the group, especially one who brought along his mother's credit card. The family used the card to cover whatever incidental expenses popped up for the rest of the summer, often for parts to repair the school bus, which kept breaking down. Otherwise,

[00:33:57] they had no real need for money because Wilson subsidized them. The women frequently raided his closets, not to wear the clothes they took, but to cut them up and make them into nice robes for Charlie. Wilson paid for the family members' frequent doctor's office trips to be treated for sexually transmitted diseases, which were often passed on to Wilson himself. And when Susan Atkins had problems with her teeth, Wilson got hit with the dental tab, too.

[00:34:26] He had to cover it and the other family expenses by forwarding the bills to Brother Records for payment, and management there griped to him about it. How long did Dennis intend to subsidize these freeloaders anyway? Wilson had no answer for that, beyond a growing certainty that Charlie had no intention of going anywhere until he got a recording contract from Brother Records, which Wilson knew, though Charlie didn't, was unlikely. Still,

[00:34:55] the guy was always interesting and the girls were always fun. Wilson let things go on as they were. Wilson could do that, but Charlie couldn't. Gurus or any other spiritual leaders are expected by their followers to keep things interesting and moving forward. Status quo is unacceptable because that offers disciples too much time to notice personal flaws or failings in a leader. The Beatles lost faith in the Maharishi at his camp in India. After rumors spread, he ate meat

[00:35:24] and made sexual advances to female followers. The Beach Boys' devotion to Maharishi was shaken when he proved to be a financial black hole on a national concert tour. Charlie wasn't famous like the Maharishi, but he had the same constant pressure to measure up to the family's worshipful expectations. To a great extent, he had so far. All of them came to Charlie feeling broken in some critical way. He soothed their fears, reassured them that they were special,

[00:35:54] and had the potential to become even better by listening to and following him. He gave them a sense of belonging that most had never felt with their original families. Thanks to Charlie's influence on Dennis Wilson, they enjoyed luxurious hospitality in the mansion of a rock star. Where they'd previously felt lost and miserable, now they felt loved and happy, just as Charlie had promised. But the novelty would inevitably wane. Dumpster diving and riding around

[00:36:24] in a battered old school bus would eventually seem routine, even boring, rather than adventuresome. For now, Wilson remained a gracious, generous host, but who knew for how long? Charlie hinted broadly that Wilson ought to join the family full time. Wilson seemed to consider it, but he never took that step. He identified himself above all as a beach boy and was unwilling to give that up, along with the material possessions he loved, to become a dog-like Manson follower.

[00:36:54] Most dangerous of all for Charlie was his ongoing inability to secure that elusive record deal, not only for the threat of not achieving his dream of worldwide fame, but also for the danger of his followers seeing him fail to accomplish something. All it would take for some to lose faith would be the slightest armor chink, and the turn down by Universal and the apparent lack of interest at Brother were potential clues that maybe Charlie Manson wasn't superior after all, let alone the possible

[00:37:24] second coming of Christ. Charlie needed to provide a distraction, some fresh mission to occupy the family's attention, and around the end of May, he announced it. The family was forever. That's what Charlie told them. And if they were going to stay together forever, they needed a permanent home. Charlie put Susan Atkins in charge of finding one. She was pregnant, but Charlie didn't care. She'd take some of the others,

[00:37:54] Pat, Yeller, Mary Brunner, and Baby Pooh Bear, and head north to Mendocino County. They'd scout for a new base, maybe a house, maybe just some remote spot where they could camp out long term. And to make sure Charlie stayed informed, they'd send back regular updates. For Susan, this was a big deal. Charlie was trusting her, giving her authority, and she loved it. She started imitating Charlie, ordering the others around.

[00:38:24] They resented it, but they still obeyed. And Charlie? He'd just gotten one of his most volatile followers out of the way, for a little while at least. Meanwhile, back in L.A., Charlie made one thing clear. Dennis Wilson's generosity wouldn't last forever. The family's future wasn't about fancy houses, stocked refrigerators, and swimming pools. Their real goal, Charlie explained, was to transcend material things.

[00:38:53] To strip everything away until all they had left was their love for each other. But then the Mendocino plan fell apart. Fast. Susan and her crew rented a place in the tiny town of Philo. It wasn't long before parents started complaining to police, saying their underage kids were getting drugs from the people at what locals had started calling Hippie House. Then came the real trouble. Cops showed up to check out one mother's report,

[00:39:23] only to find her 17-year-old son on the property, deep in a violent, drug-induced hallucination. Susan, Mary, Yeller, Pat, and a few others were arrested. And Pooh Bear, Charlie's own son, was taken into foster care. Now, Charlie had a problem. He had to rescue them. But he couldn't leave L.A. Not when he was still working on Dennis Wilson and Greg Jacobson, still trying to get signed to Brother Records.

[00:39:52] So he turned to Bobby Beausoleil. Bobby was always up for a road trip. That summer, he'd been driving up and down the California coast in his pickup truck, living out of a folding tent rigged into the truck bed. And he never traveled alone. His girlfriend Gail was with him. So was Gypsy. And now, there was someone new. Her name was Leslie Van Houten. Leslie was 18, born and raised in Monrovia, a suburb of L.A.

[00:40:22] Her life had been comfortable until her parents divorced at 14. After that, she got rebellious, questioned authority, skated by in school even though she was smart. And, like a lot of teenagers in the 60s, she got into drugs. Mostly weed and LSD. At 17, she ran away to Haight-Ashbury with her boyfriend. What she found there wasn't peace and love. It was hard drugs. Hostility.

[00:40:51] An overcrowded city that didn't care about two more runaway kids. By the time she came home, she was pregnant. She wanted the baby. Her mother didn't. And her mother won. After the abortion, Leslie pulled away from her family. She trained as a secretary but didn't want the job. So she left. This time, she wasn't coming back. She moved to San Francisco, signed up as a Kelly Girl temp worker

[00:41:20] to support herself, and then fate stepped in. Her friend D took her to a party. That's where she met Bobby Beausoleil. And Bobby had an idea. He was traveling, living the true hippie life. Why not join him? Leslie said yes. There was a moment, a split second, where her life almost went a different way. When Bobby's truck came to pick her up, Leslie chose to ride in the truck bed. Bobby thought she was

[00:41:50] already inside. He drove off. Leslie was left standing there on the sidewalk. Minutes passed. She started wondering, was this a sign? Was she meant to stay behind? Maybe even go back to Monrovia. But she'd already called her family. She'd told them she was gone forever. So she waited, and eventually Bobby turned back, picked her up, and Leslie Van Houten, without even realizing it,

[00:42:20] stepped onto a path she would never be able to leave. Cracks were starting to show. Neil Young, who knew the family during this period, would later reflect that there was something about Manson that eventually drove most people away, a disproportionate sense of self-importance and entitlement. Manson believed he had the right to do and have anything he wanted. The breaking point came through music. Wilson, trying to help Manson's musical aspirations, arranged for him

[00:42:50] to record at brother Brian Wilson's home studio. The session engineer, Stephen Despar, quickly discovered what others had learned about Manson. He was impossible to work with. When Despar tried to give basic technical guidance, like moving closer to the microphone or tuning his guitar, Manson bristled. The sessions ended abruptly when Manson pulled a knife on Despar, who later called management to report that this guy is psychotic. But perhaps the most telling

[00:43:19] incident came through Wilson's mounting expenses. While the Beach Boys were away on tour, Manson and the family ran up an $800 bill, just on dairy products, on Wilson's charge account. When you add in a totaled Mercedes and other expenses, Wilson estimated the family had cost him around $100,000 over the summer. That's almost a million dollars in today's money. Instead of confronting Manson directly, Wilson chose to simply disappear.

[00:43:50] He quietly packed his essential belongings and moved to a smaller house on Pacific Coast Highway, one deliberately too small for the family to crash at when they inevitably found him. Why such an indirect approach? Because Manson had threatened Wilson with a knife before, and Wilson wasn't sure if these threats were just for show. When Wilson's landlord finally evicted the family from the Sunset Boulevard house, they weren't worried. They had a backup plan. A place called Spahn Ranch.

[00:44:20] What happened there? Well, that's a story for our next episode. Now let's hear from our two crime experts, Simon and Tom. Alex, thank you very much again for episode six. Absolutely tremendous. The picture is building. In this episode, we start to see the emergence of LSD as being a major factor. It now starts to play a big role in this whole story, which is entering itself. And of course, onto the scene comes

[00:44:50] a hugely famous man, Dennis Wilson, a member of the Beach Boys. By the time we meet Dennis, the Beach Boys have just peaked and are falling back. even so, I mean, Dennis Wilson and his brother were huge stars all over the world. Yeah. We forget sometimes in the music industry about royalties. That wealth is ongoing. The Beach Boys estate will still be making money today from radio plays and from sales of their records

[00:45:19] all over the world, the same as all of these artists are. So it's an ongoing thing and here you've got a guy who apparently wasn't a very talented drummer. He was okay. Better live, probably because of the substances that he was using. But he's got all this money and apparently what he liked to do was to pick up hitchhikers. He made a mistake that day, didn't he? He sure did. He picked up a couple of Charlie's girls and thereafter Charlie must have seen it. First of all, Charlie Manson was determined to make a go of his own

[00:45:49] pop career. Yeah. It's very interesting that you do wonder, Simon, whether if Charlie Manson had succeeded and had made a reasonable career out of his pop music, these murders would probably never have taken place. I wonder what his music was like apparently in the next couple of episodes we'll get a bit more information. That's right. But you'll remember yourself. I mean, to be honest, I mean, okay, there was the huge stars whose music has transcended but in the 60s and 70s there was quite a lot of pretty average

[00:46:19] bands and singers who made it big because it was such a momentum behind the pop industry. There was a throwaway line that Alex used maybe a couple of episodes ago when he was talking about this very thing and the music industry, the big studios and whatnot were looking for talent because this was a boom, this was a marketplace. People were buying records and there was a huge amount of money to be made and they were looking for people to supply that but they weren't looking for talent. They were looking for charisma,

[00:46:49] they were looking for an image, they were looking for something visual that they could sell to the kids and I think that's where Manson fell down. I think no matter how clever he was at writing songs or how good his songs might have been, I think there was something very underlying about Charlie that a lot of people saw to get away from him as quickly as possible. He always had a look of a little rat about him didn't he? I thought Alex brought out a very good point and it's an old one it's pure Machiavelli the great writer in the Middle Ages

[00:47:19] he said that you only need two things to hold power you need fear and love. It's always best to have both but if you only can have one then it should be fear. That's the basis on which Charlie Manson built his gang it's quite evident that a lot of the girls when looking at them properly they were frightened of Charlie they were frightened. Yeah you could see the consequences with domestic abuse how he goes into

[00:47:48] that in some detail. What about Dennis though? That one ride taken because the girls were tasked with finding guys like him to find guys that could help finance the operation and sell themselves to these guys and get them back and cream them for all they were worth but Dennis fitted everything didn't he? A drummer was one of the biggest bands in the world at the time with the Beach Boys he had a mansion that they all moved into thereafter solving lots of problems they could all

[00:48:18] get a shower for starters which must have been a real boon. That's right and Dennis was obviously fairly prone to the odd orgy or two which helped along the way. All the drugs they could handle because he's loaded as well I think towards the end of this episode he'd spent about 100 grand on them and this is back in 1968 of course it's got a lot of money it's about a million pounds now. The one thing that Alex brought up and I thought was very interesting was this business about momentum

[00:48:47] for Charlie Charlie can't afford him and his group to stand still because then what happens is they look around and they start to question the leader and they say what are we doing here? Wait a minute this guy's got feet of clay so Charlie's got to be always moving forward always plotting and planning and leading and taking the group somewhere so he changes location he takes them on the bus he moves house always disrupting

[00:49:16] always agitating to make sure that they don't have time just to stop and to stare and to consider that Charlie is the emperor with no clothes yeah an interesting part of this one was the music as well music punctuates this whole thing doesn't it? We've got this soundtrack of the 60s going on behind it and of course Charlie loves a magical mystery to it possibly because of the bus and all the connotations that he's imitating

[00:49:45] but the music of the Beatles we've got lots of stuff going on culturally that's influenced what they're doing ultimately I'm not sure why I don't think it came out that Dennis had a wake up call one day in fact he moved out maybe his brother or somebody got a hold of him and took him out of there and he left them in it and got them evicted that was the next move at the end of this episode for Charlie and his growing entourage yeah and then of course they end up going to the famous ranch but yeah I thought it was

[00:50:15] quite good Dennis he moves house and deliberately moves to a much smaller place so they can't come and live with him I know a lot of parents that do that when the kids start growing up Tom so they can't come back you've not done that yet have you no not a bad idea son not a bad idea Tom I'm really enjoying this I must admit I'm enjoying it much more than I thought I would I thought Manson we might get two or three episodes and when I heard that there was more than that I thought what on earth

[00:50:45] but it's so interesting because I can remember my parents talking about this stuff I can remember it's been on the news all these about drugs which LSD which was new at the time as well the Vietnam War in the background too and the racial stuff that was going on all over the US as well it really was a melting pot wasn't it it is social history it's political history it's criminal history all melded into one which of course is the reality of it because none

[00:51:14] of these things stand on their own I am full of admiration for Alex and I don't know where he gets the time to do the research he must be getting help from somewhere and it's fascinating and you were saying he might be doing me out of a job I think he might do his post start a job Tom we'll need to be careful we will indeed we will indeed Tom we'll speak next time see you soon cheers you've been listening to Crime Time Inc where the investigation never truly ends if you liked this episode

[00:51:44] please listen to some more and it would really help us if you left a comment on whatever platform you're listening to this on thank you our team respects the victims of these crimes and their families this podcast is produced with the intention to educate and bring clarity to complex cases that have shaped our criminal justice system Crime Time Inc. is hosted by former detectives Simon McLean and Tom Wood and our research team verifies all

[00:52:13] case information presented in this series visit crimetimeinc.com for more information about us join us next time for another great true crime episode