The White Rabbit and Mr. Gold Bar






While Jeffery was off for another stay at the real asylum, Michael Harkins moved in his ex-wife’s ex-husband down into the basement of the White Rabbit. This was Jeffery’s handle. He bought a CB and put an antennae on the roof. Every time the White Rabbit was on the air, folks would get in their cars and drive around the Oakland Hills trying to hone in on the source of my friends screeching, profane madness that resulted when they pointed out Jeffrey was not following protocol.

Michael and I discussed how we could stop Jeffery, but, assessed that was impossible. Oh sure, we could have called the cops, and had the White Rabbit hauled off to the asylum, but, he was of the blood. The inner Rena recognized this, the Rena that was trying to get out and take part in the Mad Hatter’s tea party. That she is amused that she ended up at the Redneck Tea Party, tells me she has met her kind of loons.

Below is a video of Bruce Perlowin on Bloomberg TV. Bruce is the CEO of Hemp Inc, and Medical Marijuana Inc. Above is a photo of his office I took. Bruce had meetings with Jerry Rubin in the basement of the Pinehaven asylum. Bruce was a publicity hound. Any ol moniker would do – in those days! Bruce was trying to get Jerry to invest in his Rain Crisp cereal, and wanted Bruce to help him sell jewelry. Both of these gentleman are Jews. Jerry is accused of copping out, an idea that some tried to apply to Bruce who says the media foisted ‘The King of Pot’ on him. This is a lie – and a real cop-out!

Above is a photo of Reverend Glen who I took Jeffery to see down in LA and get baptized. This is what he wanted. Glen married me to Mary Ann Tharaldsen, the ex-wife of Thomas Pynchon. My friend, Bryan McClean of Love, sang as we tied the knot.

Jim Morrison was inspired by Love. Michael Harkins was a good friend of Jim and the beat poet, Michael McLure. Peter Shapiro of the Loading Zone visited the Harkins family on several occasion. There was a mischievous mad man lurking in Peter that came out when he and Jeffery had a meeting of the minds.

On the basement wall, is a photo of the famous Russian spy who Bruce married in the Fed lock-up.

If Rena and Jeffrey could be coaxed out of hiding, and my story told from their point of view, then it would be a great work of literature. When I read Rena’s work history, and how she likes to work, this is Jeffries fate, he working as a dishwasher for twenty years on the UC campus. He has learned if he jeeps busy in a structured environment, he is able to own a calm life.

I want Rena to have a calm life with less fear.

Jon Presco

The following is being published by Rosamond Press Co. a newspaper I founded in Lane County Oregon in 1997. Thanks to the Vincent Rice Family Trust, I have been able to upgrade my computer and purchase a scanner which allows me to publish family photographs such as the one above of Wanda Harkins home in the Oakland Hills were Bruce Perlowin lived for five months.

Wanda Harkins was my surrogate mother, and since 1968, she always gave me sanctuary from the storm, if just for one night sleeping on the couch, or staying a month or two down in the basement where the King of Pot had his headquarters. I was a good friend of Wanda’s three sons, James, Michael, and Jeffrey Harkins since 1965. I visited the Harkins home up on Skyline in 1966 with my friend, Nancy Hamren, who became a Merry Prankster. Doctor James Harkins was a well known pediatrician who experimented with LSD with his older son, James Junior. In 1969 Wanda’as home was raided by the Oakland Police, the Oakland Tribune newspaper reporting; “Wild Bongo Party Raided In Oakland Hills”. Wanda’s three sons were put in a paddy wagon and hauled off to jail.

We used to call Wanda Mr’s Cleaver, because she was stuck in 50s. She was the consummate housewife long after she and Jim were divorced. Wanda never failed to invite me to Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, she knowing my natal family were not hospitable. Some stoners of renown walked in her door, such as, Jerry Rubin, who was in the jewelry business with Bruce Perlowin whose ex-wife was now Michael’s wife, and Bruces’ son, like a grandson to Wanda whose three sons never sired children. Bruce was married to a famous Russian Spy who was still in prison for seducing an FBI agent. Bruce put her picture on the wall. Wanda was a Republican right-winger whose boyfriend attened the hijinks at Bohemian Grove. Wanda would come down into the basement to do a load of laundry, and ask Bruce about the photo;

“That’s my wife. We got married in prison.”

“Oh, how sweet!” Wanda said, she signing parole papers that made her home a halfway house for the drug smuggler who said the rewards arent worth the risk to Junior Highschoo lkids in Oakland’s Ghetto, where Bruce had gone at my suggestion, I trying to do a 12th. Step on him, I having four years of sobriety. I challenged Bruce to give a anti-drug-profit message. Bruce saw a chance to garnish some publicity. I was angry, and called the Tribune reproter who wrote the article. Turns out he had eleven years sobriety, and, he felt guilty for getting Bruce busted because of an article he wrote that he was not aware would crack open the case that put Bruce in the Fed lockup.

“Are you kidding me!”

Bruce is the world expert on getting Sympathy for Devil. There is a third world flavor in feeling sorry for the benevolent dictator, or the Mafia chief who throws huge Columbus Day celebrations in New York. Meanwhile we addicts and drunks in recovery must remain anonymous. To go against my peers after my fall and death at McClure’s Beach, was extremely difficult – to this very day! I just revealed some information I was forbidden to reveal. Why stop now? We are doomed, we getting older and taking drugs for medical problem, and not to trip the lights fantastic, or, exchange Bohemian ideas.

Here is a video of Bruce with Reverend Doug Van Dyke “Doctor of Divinity” I doubt the Doc can quote me one verse from the Bible, but, he is next to Bruce in oder to prove he has a spritual program of some kind – that might heal you! Doug is a secular Jesus pot-head. In many ways he is – me – the me I used to be, that hippie who grew up in Oakland, and who was adopted by the Robert Hamilton, the man behind Owsely, who with his brother Tim Hamilton, sold LSD all over the world.

Below is a vdio of Buzzy Linhart who had a legal marijuana orginization years before Bruce. Buzzy is a friend of Chris Wandel, and went to this show with Joe Marra who owned the Night Owl Cafe in the village. Chris dated Peter Shapiro of the Loading Zone.

Michael became friends with Bruce when he went with his wife and Bruces son to visit The King in prison. Michael was good friends with the beat poet Michael MacClure, and Jim Morrison. He was approached by Stone’s people and asked Michael about his friendship with Jim. They wanted material for the movie The Doors.
Michael told them their movie will suck, and they can go fuck themselves. The movie sucked, as will Bruces movie, as will the movie about my famous sister, will suck, because, Rosamond’s biography sucks, and the people who want to make money – suck the most!

Michael worked as a Private Investigator, and went with me to Carmel to attend the funeral of Christine Rosamond Benton. It was Michael who alerted me to things that were – fishy! If you put Rosamond’s, Bruces’s and Jim’s story-movie together, then you might have an interesting story about folks who like money, sex, drugs, and power!

Above is the price list mu ex-brpther-in-law sent out to steady customers of Rosamond images – a week after she drowned. The probate would ot get under way until a year later due to the huge legal battle over – money – because most folks who surrounded Christine believed the price of dead artist’s work would skyrocket! Instead of the Drunken Rosemary prints being worth $250,000 dollars, they might bring in a cool million. Then there are the book and movie sales. Carrie Fisher did one screenplay.

I am good to go if the outsider get a movie contract, I already acted when it came to one of Bruce’s most famous investors in Rain Crips ceral bars. I’m talking about Victoria from Chicago, the queen of the Blue Meanies, who after a couple of freakouts at the airport and motel, became convinced the Mafia was behind Bruce, and, she would be snuffed out because she got too close to Mr. Big. That’s when I got a urgent call from Michael;

“Get up to Wandas and meet me in the backyard. I’m bringing this woman to meet you. Pretend you are the Godfather. Reasure her I am not a hit man for the Mafia.”

I got in my gold Cadillac and headed for Wanda’s Hideaway. In the backyard I found a coffee cup, and prentended it was full of coffee. There was a newspaper I pretended to read, as she came through the gate. I could hear her gentle whimpering, she believing she had minutes to live. Then she saw me.

Before I could stand up to shake her hand, she has fallen to one knee, and is grasping my hand hard. I spoke gently to her, my blues eyes, bathing her in wisdom and understanding, that, told her things do not have to go badly, and, putting my hand on her shoulder I said;

“You’re under my protection now. (and Wanda’s) You need no longer worry! Michael, make sure no harm comes to Victoria.”

Vicki broke out in tears and cried;

“Oh! You are not what I expected at all. You are a gentle giant!”

Victoria was too hysterical to get on the plane. But, after one session with the Godfather, she was good to go. She reassured Bruce there would be a check in the mail as she waved goodbye. It never arrived. However, I – Mr. Big – received an envelope, which I never told Bruce about. I purtchased a Brother word processor to work on my novel The Gideon Computer which is about the last hippie in the future who gets busted and sent to the first privately owned prison. My friend Nancy suggested I write the history of the hippies, but, how boring!

“Alls well, that ends well!”

Jon Presco

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to The White Rabbit and Mr. Gold Bar

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    There is a level of Bad one reaches in Oakland. For a couple of days I was ‘Mr. Big’.

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