Eric Burdon, Rock Musician …”black-hating Manson”…
I saw Manson in the months before the killings [summer of 1969], sitting outside the Experience nightclub on Sunset in the seat of a dune buggy while his girl gang of witches partied inside. Manson refused to go into the club because he would have had to walk through the huge image of Jimi Hendrix’s face which adorned the entrance to the club, something the black-hating Manson wasn’t about to do.
Manson showed up at Hollywood parties once in awhile. My old friend Ronni Money had a run-in with him at one bash about a year before the murders. She was visiting a friend up in the hills, and Manson was there, trying to get her to take a drink that he’d obviously spiked with LSD. Ronni didn’t drink alcohol so didn’t fall for the ruse, but that didn’t discourage Manson.
“I didn’t know who he was until later,” Ronni says, “except that he was an offensive little bastard and kept telling me to take this drink.”
from Don’t Let Me Be Understood, by Eric Burdon with J. Marshall Craig (Thunder’s Mouth Press, 2001)
Provided by Dana Cook, Contributor to the Los Angeles Free Press.
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