The scene Wednesday at the Truck Store was harrowing. This was my most protected research haven. With wall to wall people in it I was flat freaked. Now we were reflected on ourselves. "This is it", said Wavey, "This is the 21st Century." With the arrival of the Hog Farm buses that night (still raining), it began to get really interesting jammed with people now, and tempers rising and procedures fraying: everything from this point on is news because nobody knows what happens next. We never found out. A long slow reading of the I Ghing put everybody to sleep.
The next morning the police came and said to leave. That was a strange scene. I was in the parking lot of my own store raving at a cop, wondering if I was going to slug him. He was no polite cop and I was no polite citizen. I didn't hit him, but was going to do it in the press, when Dick Raymond (who'd left and eaten, because of a death in the family) came up with an original thought. Let the cops be.
Hippies against cops is a boring and useless story. Go to Portola's place in the mountains, Ortega Park, and don't tell the media where we're going. Keep the fast, but get some rest. And that's what we did. A reporter from Channel 7 said as we departed, "Is there anything else I can do for you, besides leave you alone for a few days?"