Richard Nixon called him the most dangerous man in America, an honor usually reserved by Republicans for figures such as Charles Darwin and Barack Obama. Timothy Leary wasn’t always so “dangerous.” He had a distinguished military service and academic psychology career 
until he started thinking way outside the box, promoting the therapeutic use of psychedelic substances. It was your basic slippery slope, as he quickly evolved during the wild and woolly 60’s to a self-described performing philosopher and hippie guru. He used LSD himself and developed a philosophy of mind expansion and personal truth through LSD with such heady concepts as space migration and intelligence increase. Eventually, it was all about turning on, tuning in, and dropping out.
As a result, Leary also came to spend more time in jail than out of it, becoming intimate with 36 prisons throughout the world. In January 1970, he received a 20-year prison sentence for a pair of earlier transgressions. Upon his reporting for prison duty, Leary was given a series of psychological tests meant to help determine what work duties he was suited to. Having himself designed such tests, he found it quite easy to manipulate the results so that they would show him to be a model citizen with an interest in forestry and gardening, pursuits that would conveniently keep him out of doors.
Leary was assigned to work as a gardener in a minimum security prison. On September 12, 1970, leaving a farewell note, he climbed over the prison wall along a telephone wire to a waiting pickup truck supplied by the Weather Underground. For $25,000 (paid by the Brotherhood of Eternal Love), the weathermen smuggled Leary and his wife out of the United States and into Algeria. From there, they traveled to Switzerland, Vienna and Beirut. In 1972, they headed for Afghanistan which had no extradition policy with the U.S. Unfortunately, they traveled aboard an American airline, and were arrested before they could deplane.
Leary was returned to prison where he remained until his release in 1976. He died in 1996.
Come Together
“Come Together,” written by John Lennon, became a big hit for the Beatles and an anti-war anthem. It was originally written as a campaign song for Timothy Leary’s aborted run for governor against Ronald Reagan.
Said Lennon: “The thing was created in the studio. It’s gobbledygook; “Come Together” was an expression that Leary had come up with for his attempt at being president or whatever he wanted to be, and he asked me to write a campaign song. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t come up with one. But I came up with this, “Come Together,” which would’ve been no good to him—you couldn’t have a campaign song like that, right?”
Murray Middlebury Has an Affair, Part 1: Healthy, Wealthy and Wise
Murray Middlebury downed the last of his daily bran flakes as his wife Lenora looked on approvingly. “Good fiber,” she would frequently intone, giving blessing to their morning ritual of oat bread, bran flakes, and decaffeinated coffee. “To our health,” Murray would often quip in reply as they clinked together their glasses of V-8.
Bacon never found itself on the Middlebury table, for the Middleburys, a classic 21st century health-conscious couple, had forsaken all things animal in their quest for immortality or whatever it is that is the holy grail of 21st century health consciousness. Beef was banished, pork proscribed; even chicken was cast off.
Murray sometimes jokingly referred to Lenora as the bean queen for the innovative ways she could feature the lowly legume. To their credit, their diet and program of daily exercise did leave them fit and trim. Murray’s position as an actuary and Lenora’s as a CPA gave them a good household income. And the Middleburys exercised their minds as well as their bodies, reading the right books and associating with the likes of Bach, Brahms, and Mahler.
In short, the Middleburys were healthy, wealthy, and wise – sure candidates for living happily ever after. But Murray had a dirty little secret. He was about to have an affair.
“You’re remembering, dear,” said the imperfect half of the perfect pair, “that my men’s discussion group is having its first meeting tonight.”
“And you won’t be home for dinner,” said Lenora, showing obvious concern for his well-being.
“No, but I’ll take a couple of extra apples with me,” said Murray. “We’re discussing Pilgrim’s Progress.”
“How lucky for you that you read it just last year.”
“Yes,” Murray agreed, with a smile.
continued
This story originally appeared in Hemispheres, the United Airlines magazine. It is included in Naughty Marietta and Other Stories.
Wretched Richard's Almanac 