![]() ![]() The two men had become pals at the height of Hoffman’s fame in 1970 after the Yippie leader’s conspiracy trial for inciting riots at the 1968 Democratic National Convention and before he was nabbed five years later for selling cocaine. No one recognized the heavily bearded man. “When he was here, Abbie talked to several people about how to keep the Russian River clean,” says Raskin. ![]() Lawrence River from dredging and even met with Sen. As Freed, the then-fugitive worked to protect New York’s St. To mask Hoffman’s identity, Raskin introduced his fast-talking friend as Barry Freed, Hoffman’s underground alias. Those plans culminated successfully in a brilliant pre-surrender public relations coup–a friendly interview with ABC-TV correspondent Barbara Walters. “Abbie was busy organizing his surrender,” Raskin recalls. Hoffman–who suffered from clinical manic depression–talked non-stop, racked up huge phone bills while staying at Raskin’s home, paced, drank up his host’s booze, and put the finishing touches on his 1980 autobiography, Soon to Be a Major Motion Picture. Hoffman–a counterculture Pied Piper whose no-holds-barred theatrics helped to entice stoned-out Vietnam-era flower children into antiwar activism–passed the hours drinking red wine in the hotel’s saloon with his longtime comrade and future biographer, Jonah Raskin.ĭuring the visits, Raskin–who chronicles those times in his acclaimed biography For the Hell of It: The Life and Times of Abbie Hoffman (University of California Press, 1996)–put his life on hold. IN THE MONTHS before Yippie founder Abbie Hoffman surfaced in September 1980, after six and a half years of running from the law on a drug charge, he sometimes hung out at the rustic Union Hotel in remote Occidental. Jonah Raskin recalls activist Abbie Hoffman and the theater of the soul ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |