Wolfe Checks In – To The Oaks Motel

Last night, I visualized the whole play ‘The Oaks Motel’. At the end, one of my characters checks into to write…………..what? Haiku poems came to mind, and, an autobiography? What I saw, for sure, was, I could found a Bohemian Mecca for writers! Then, this morning I read Tom Wolfe – died. Was I tuning into him last night? Where do the spirits of writers go – if they got no religion? Song writer, and Zen Buddhist, Leonard wrote a very haunting tune, called……………………?

This is quite a mouthful! Where does this shit go to die? It all goes to Oakland, man! What are the first words you read in the greatest blockbuster movie of all time – that I walked out of, because the actors dancing was poorly directed. I invented dancing without a partner at Oakland High School, in 1961 with the help of the black students. Kesey had one of his first Acid Tests in a Oakland bar. Anyone know the name of it? I lived with the Loading Zone in a huge mansion in the Oakland ghetto. I was the artist in residence.

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test is a nonfiction book by Tom Wolfe that was published in 1968. The book is remembered today as an early – and arguably the most popular – example of the growing literary style called New Journalism. Wolfe presents an as-if-firsthand account of the experiences of Ken Kesey and his band of Merry Pranksters, who traveled across the country in a colorfully painted school bus named Further.[1] Kesey and the Pranksters became famous for their use of LSD and other psychedelic drugs in hopes of achieving intersubjectivity. The book chronicles the Acid Tests (parties in which LSD-laced Kool-Aid was used to obtain a communal trip), the group’s encounters with (in)famous figures of the time, including famous authors, Hells Angels, and The Grateful Dead, and it also describes Kesey’s exile to Mexico and his arrests.

My accident while on LSD happens after the Muir Beach freak-out of Owsley (page 166?)  I lived with, and knew, members of Brotherhood of Eternal Love. I was introduced to Tim Scully by my art patron, who procured all the chemicals to make LSD. My friend Nancy dated Owsely. She and my sister, went on a double date with Nick Sands. I saw a big bag of LSD put in a suitcase……….

“This is going to the Beatles!”

I traced the Literary footsteps of Ambroise Bierce, to the formation of the Rolling Stones newspaper, via he founder of Ramparts, Warren Hinkle. New Journalism and Journalist, might be dead – and dying! I might be the Last One. I shun recognition, fearing the Final Rejection Notice. Recognition also breeds – writing for a Pay Check. This is why I founded ‘The Oaks Motel’ as a Liberated Area, for…………National Literary Treasures and Icons!


Up 35th street from the Oaks, Joaquin Miller had his Bohemian retreat. Poets from Japan came to study under him. They built paper huts by a stream, and cooked BBQ. They made a movie about Yone that I hope Katherine Wilson adds to her collection. Miller was the editor for Eugene’s first newspaper, and his brother, George, married in the family that founded The Register Guard.

The Hells Angels hung down the street a quarter of mile at the Doggy Diner. Go down 35th. and you come to Jingletown. The Oaks is the unknown Mecca. That it advertises “Color T.V.” is the cat’s meow of Time Portals. It really hits the spot – for me! This sign is  a work of art and needs to be a registered as a National Monument. Oh, Gertrude Stein grew up a mile away. Then, there is Jack London. The Oaks can handle it. It is heavy duty.




Black writers got a kick-start in Black Panther movie. I find the intersubjectivity the best part of this production. The post production rap may be creating Black Bohemianism. Huey Newton was a writer, as is Eldridge Cleaver.


“Intersubjectivity” has been used in social science to refer to agreement. There is “intersubjectivity” between people if they agree on a given set of meanings or a definition of the situation. Thus, “intersubjectivity” in this sense is simply an academician’s word for “agreement” Similarly, Thomas Scheff defines “intersubjectivity” as “the sharing of subjective states by two or more individuals.”[2]

Lately, I am believing that when I die, the world dies with me. I AM GOD, somehow. God is………THE WORD! The Word is in the World. The SIGNS are everywhere. To behold those bagpipe players in the Parade of Fear, is yet another parade my Muse-Hero finds herself in. Am I preparing to be reborn a woman in my next lifetime? I want to be in the center of all the action. Writers wearing eye patches, are being kicked to the curb, on McCarther Blvd. The Oaks is found just down the street from Fruitvale Station.

“Do you know where a Ghost Writer can get a good rack of ribs!”

Mary Ann told me when she lived with Tomas Pynchon, they hardly left their hotel room. He wouldn’t let her go out on her own, but to get some take-out food! She was bored silly!

I worked out a plan with my diabetes nutritionist, where I set a timer on my phone, so I can leave my computer and go get breakfast. If you want to be a millionaire, start a service that feeds us.


“Who is it?”

“The Food Police! Open the door Mr. Presco, or we will kick it down!”

“Coming!” I lied.

Tom ran into an acquaintance when he went to use a phone booth. The guy insisted on coming over for a visit. He caught a glimpse of Tom running into his backyard and hopping the fence!  On the other side of the fence, is The Oaks Motel.


Jon Presco


While most of Marvel’s box-office breaking “Black Panther” takes place in Wakanda and South Korea, we get to see Oakland, California, in 1992 and in the present day. The Bay Area city, which serves as some Wakandans’ American home base, is a fitting choice for the film.

While Harlem is the American city used in the comics, it was a personal choice for writer-director Ryan Coogler to use Oakland, his home town, as the connection instead. The first scene that Coogler wrote was the opening scene that takes place there in the early 1990s, he told I09. “Writing it was a test of what this movie could be.”

“The interesting part about being black is until you open up your mouth, people don’t know where you’re from,” Coogler told the outlet. “I thought it would be cool if you start on the scene in Oakland. You have these two black dudes, they talk and (you go) ‘Oh, it’s two black dudes from Oakland.’ And then at some point the guy switches and starts talking with the African accent. ‘Oh s-, wait, this dude’s from Africa?’ You realize, ‘Oh yeah, I can’t tell the difference. He (looks like) the same people you know.'”

Co-writer Robert Joe Cole added that starting in Oakland “was never a question. That was Ryan. That’s his heart. That was where that was going to be.”

Oakland is also the birthplace of the Black Panther organization, which began there in the 1960s before it became a nationwide phenomenon. One of their most popular community programs – providing free breakfast to children – started in the California city in 1968.

In “Revolutionary Suicide,” Black Panther co-founder Huey Newton explained the origin of the party name: He had read about how people in a Mississippi county, who had armed themselves “against establishment violence,” adopted the black panther as a symbol for their political group. He then suggested to fellow founder Bobby Seale that they do the same. “The panther is a fierce animal, but he will not attack until he is backed into a corner; then he will strike out,” Newton wrote.



In 1967, Hinckle was among more than 500 writers and editors who signed the “Writers and Editors War Tax Protest” pledge, vowing to refuse to pay the 10% Vietnam War Tax surcharge proposed by president Johnson.[3]

After leaving Ramparts in 1969, Hinckle co-founded and edited the magazine Scanlan’s Monthly with New York journalist Sidney Zion. There he matched illustrator Ralph Steadman with Hunter S. Thompson to produce “The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved” (1970), the first work of Gonzo journalism.

After Scanlan’s folded in 1971, Hinckle was involved with a number of publications, including editing Francis Ford Coppola’s ambitious City magazine, which ceased publication in 1976. In 1991 he revived The Argonaut, and was its editor and publisher and also of its online version, Argonaut360.

Hinckle wrote or co-wrote over a dozen books, including a 1974 autobiography, If You Have a Lemon, Make Lemonade.

After working for both major San Francisco dailies, the Chronicle and The San Francisco Examiner, Hinckle went to work as a columnist for the San Francisco Independent, founded in 1987. Hinckle used his post at the Independent to advocate for his personal political beliefs. During his time at the Independent Hinckle also wrote campaign literature for various politicians.[4]

Hinckle wore a black patch to cover an eye that was lost in his youth due to an archery accident. (The San Francisco Chronicle said it was an auto accident). He was the father of the journalist Pia Hinckle. He died of pneumonia on August 25, 2016 at the age of 77 at a hospital in San Francisco.[5][6]


The Overland Monthly was founded in 1868[1] by Anton Roman, a Bavarian-born bookseller who moved to California during the Gold Rush. He had recently published the poems of Charles Warren Stoddard and a collection of verse by California writers called Outcroppings.[2] The magazine’s first issue was published in July 1868, edited by Bret Harte in San Francisco, and continued until late 1875. Roman, who hoped his magazine would “help the material development of this Coast”, was originally concerned that Harte would “lean too much toward the purely literary”. Harte, in turn, was skeptical at first that there would be enough quality content provided from local authors.[3] The first issue mostly included contributions from the “Golden State Trinity”: Harte, Stoddard, and Ina Coolbrith.[4]



Death On LSD

tim-scully-photo-of-chemistry-science-project-oakland-tribune-1961owls22If my intent was to fraudulently convince my reader I had died and gone to heaven – then came back, I would have picked a more believable death, then death on LSD. When I informed my new found daughter this happened to me, she thought I was utterly insane even though her hippie mother was an avid taker of LSD. My daughter is an atheist, and does not subscribe to any spiritual program. However, she does favor the accepted reality that says only Jesus can die and come back, because this belief, in her opinion, renders her more normal and sane, thus sociably desirable amongst her peers who want to be perceived as normal.

The first group to experiment with LSD, was the military, in America and Britain. Scientists in the employ of the military were instructed to find out if LSD could be used as a weapon, see if it could render the enemy dead in some manner, or, reduce their ability to fight – even their desire to do so. It was British and American tax dollars that discovered that most human beings on LSD had no interest in fighting for their county – or any country. This is good, if only you own this weapon. We can’t have both sides of a conflict dosing each other soldiers, or, there WOULD BE NO WAR!

Hmmmm! Looks like the Hippie Peacenik thing was invented by the Military with the backing of the Normal Ones, those who are not insane, even though their job is to invent ways of killing people for a living.

Now, if Islamic Radicals invented LSD as a weapon, a year ago, and were threatening to employ this weapon in our drinking water, then most Americans would belive this was a very insane and diabolical thing to do. Most Christians would say these radicals evil, this drug born out the ass of the Anti-Christ! Atheists would agree, even though they do not believe in the Ant-Christ or Christ.

Below is an article about Tim Scully. I was introduced to Tim by my art patron whom I will call Robert. Tim was the manager of an art supplies store in Berkeley. My patron and I had gone to buy more art supplies. Robert bought me art supplies the morning after I emerged from my room to find about eight members of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love waiting to behold me. My friend James, who grew up with Tim and Robert, was with me when I died. Something extraordinary happened. Like what? Wasnt LSD going to be used to kill people? Finally, mission accomplished. It works! I am living proof your tax money was not wasted on some stupid-ass drug program.

Robert and Tim conducted experiments at the Livermore Labrador when they were sixteen. They were school geniuses. Robert told me his I.Q. was around 200. I was one of the first guinea pigs to be hooked up to Tim’s bio-feedback machine. Tim and Robert were being heavily recruited by the Military. They just said “NO”.

Mario Savio and others protested the recruiting of gifted students on the UC campus, and was arrested. The industrial Military Comlex that employed Sir Ian Easton and my brother, believed Egg Heads should pay their debt to society, and willingly be an extension of the Killer Hardware Program – because they were educated in the public school system – that honored my gifts, and sent two of my painting to tour the world in a Red Cross show.

I was drafted in 1966. If the military had discovered Art could be turned into a deadly weapon, I would not have been drafted, and would be living in the Berkeley hills (at tax payers expense) watching Luna Rossa compete in America’s Cup while millions all over the world are ravaged by Killer Art.

“Hmmmm!” says the phantom flash-back of my mind.

How well I did as an artist, was being studied by Robert and others, because I refused to be the Acid Messiah and lead the Left against the Right. Indeed, I said I would take LSD away from the players, because – I won!

Robert had me throw three coins while I was lecturing about ten people – just this side of heaven. He bid me to throw these coins six times. I did. I was annoyed, and wanted Robert to go away. Robert and I remained close friends for over a decade. He hung my paintings all over the labs at UC. Robert was the youngest head of a department in UC history.

When my Muse came into my life, she changed the look of my artwork. When I showed my sister my painting, rendered by the colors Robert bought me, she took up art, and became world-famous.

So, one can conclude an experiment with a very powerful dose of LSD in 1967, resulted in the formation of a Historic Artistic Dynasty. I rendered Rena’s image while I was the roommate of Peter Shapiro, who as a member of the bands ‘The Loading zone’ and ‘The Marbles’ who played at the first Acid-Tests. I did not take drugs for fifteen years after I died. I encouraged many to never take drugs again.

The first words I spoke after I came back to life, after lying in my room for two days, was’

“I am thirsty. I would like a glass of water.”

Tim Scully’s sister had approached me, knelt, took my hand, and asked me what I wanted. Tim was a member of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love, as was my friend who was with me when I died on a powerful dose of Orange Sunshine, of which I had an hour before taken another dose so I could get back into my body. There were about five members of the Brotherhood present who had heard of my death. I never met them.

When I took a few sips of water from the crystal goblet, I said this;

“With this water I swallow, I wash the drug LSD from my system, into my urinary track, and I need to use the toilet, where I will flush this drug into the sea, and dilute it, take it from you forever. The game is over.”

And I rose, and did just that. I purged Orange Sunshine from my body, and a movement I was a part of. Later, I would tell two young men who were preparing a batch of LSD for Europe;

“The cops are outside waiting for you.You’re going to get busted.”

Most of the Brotherhood got busted – after the powerful king-like entity that was inside me, rebuked them, with permission of the Lord of Truth I beheld on McClure’s Beach February 11, 1967. I was being asked to be a anti-war Messiah. The LSD I took, did not go with me where I saw my sisters adorned in the jewels of heaven. Back here on earth, I was adorned in precious jewels with wisdom beyond compare. LSD was doing damage to a very delicate God-consciousness that I have been attuned to most of my life.

Jon Presco

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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