05.16.06
“If I had ever been here before I would pro’bly know just what to do, hey don’t you? If I had ever been here before on another time around the wheel I would pro’bly know just how to deal with all of you…” David Crosby
We did gain entry to the most bizarre place I had been in up to that point. The warehouse had been gutted, and “space” was rented by the square foot. You were then responsible for building your own walls and whatever else you wanted or needed. The only requirements for acceptance to the project were that you had to be an artist of some kind and had to be accepted by everyone who already lived there. There were weekly meetings in which all business would be conducted, including acceptance of new members. Being visitors, we didn’t need to go through that process, yet. Every floor had a set of bathrooms, but people also built their own private ones if they wanted. We ended up on the 3rd floor in a communal space within the larger communal building. As we got off the elevator onto the 3rd floor, we noticed a big gray blob in the middle of the hallway. Now remember, this was a building full of artists - 65 residents at that time. The big gray blob was a bath house. Inside, it was all mosaic, tile and murals. The first area had three sinks with mirrors. Across from that was a dressing area. Next was a shower room with three shower heads, then a huge tub. The rule about the tub was that you couldn’t fill it unless you had at least five people to bath with. Everything was hand crafted and beautiful! I was young and naive at that time, and as badly as I needed a shower, the thought of showering with a stranger was more than I could handle. Forget about a bath… Finally days later, I waited until about 3am and jumped into the shower. A few minutes later, someone came in to join me. I was horrified, but where could I go? I was actually surprised at how quickly I got over my modesty. In minutes, we were chatting and getting to know each other as we each washed. I felt like I washed away years of repression as well as days and days of dirt and sweat. It was like being reborn.
The building and it’s residents were fascinating! There were three levels of rooftops. At the very top was an organic garden. The top floor of the building was a dining room where there were communal dinners once a week that everyone took turns cooking. I think they charged $1.00/meal to cover the cost of the food. It was a good way to meet people. There were also great parties thrown there and other spaces in the building. There was an alternative high school, my first introduction to alternative education, and a preschool run by an older hippie with very long hair and long beard. It was heartwarming to see this large man walking around the big city with these little preschoolers. There were numerous art studios and even a recording studio/rehearsal space. The recording studio was not allowed by zoning regulations, so it was behind a secret hidden door. It was very cleverly done. If you didn’t know it was there, you would never find it. The inspectors certainly never did. It belonged to “The Phantom Band.” There were communes within the larger commune for people who wanted a smaller community. I also continued my political education there. Remember my introduction to Marxism in Pittsburg, PA? Wow! That was just the beginning, and barely scratched the surface. I heard about all kinds of events and issues, and mostly listened at that time. I had so much to learn. In the basement lived a “collector,” who was scavenging parts for an airplane that was being built by someone else in the building - also in the basement. He hadn’t yet figured out what he would do with it once it was built. There were more eccentrics in one place than I thought possible. I felt right at home. I was a little puzzled, though. I had caught up on plenty of sleep, ate some good meals, and was still completely exhausted all the time. Was I sick? I was starting to worry…
Shawn Marie Hardy said,
April 27, 2007 at 11:36 am
Hello there Deb. I’ve just read these bits about Project One and must say, WOW! I lived there. I was the oldest of the children who lived there all the time and the daughter of Laura Hardy & not-quite yet stepdaughter of Fred Smith. The person who built that bath was Michael Lipsey who did a lot of strange monstrous statues and other artwork in resin. I lived on the 4th floor next to Shaw Whitney. I have a lot of memories of Project One, some good and some not-so-good. It probably wasn’t the best place for a kid to be but what did we know? I remember sitting at the table and having joints passed to me and I was only 9. Anyway, I’ve thought about writing my own experiences about it and have a stack of memoirs that I’ve written. I wish I would have kept the little newspaper that “the children of Project One” were featured in. It was a pretty good article with lots of pictures of us. What an experience! I have lots of great stories to tell because of that place.
Last summer I went to S.F. on vacation (I’m in Michigan now) and went back into the building, which of course is nothing like it was then. I was able to go back and stand in our old “space.” Those memories haunt me to this day and I feel the need to cling on to them - I guess we do that as we get older to help us hang onto our youth.
I remember the bearded man you mentioned. I can’t remember his name and I’ll have to ask my mom to see if she does. That daycare/nursery - I spent a lot of time there but was nearly raped when some kids from the outside came into the building on a weekend. The boy was 16 and he and his friend threw a blanket (we used to build forts in there) over me and tried getting my pants off. Fortunately, one of the residents (can’t think of her name but she was the mother of two little kids, Chris & Nina) popped her head in the door and the two boys bolted out the window. And I remember sneaking into the school, Symbas, wishing I was old enough to go there.
Anyway, just wanted to say hello and thanks for posting this.
Cheers,
Shawn Marie Hardy
Deb said,
April 27, 2007 at 12:45 pm
Thank-you so much for posting a comment. It’s amazing that you were a child there, and an older child that can actually remember a lot of what went on there. I recently watched the movie “Following Sean” and have been thinking a lot about the children we raised during that time. I was horrified by the very young children who were getting high and was determined not to raise my own children in that environment, although those that were all seemed to turn out okay in spite of the dangers. I’ve been trying, in my blog, to leave out most of the drug stories to make it more accessible to everyone. I would love to read your memoirs. My daughter still had a very unorthodox upbringing even though we moved out of San Francisco. She had a hard time relating to kids her age when she went to school. We moved to the East Coast by the time she was school age, and none of her peers had experiences that were even closely related to hers and yours. Most of them didn’t even believe her stories. I wonder what life was like for you when you got away from that environment. I hope your life is going really well. Did your mom end up continuing to live her life in a similar way? I’m also curious about what you took out of your experiences? Are you politically involved? What ideals, if any, did you take out of that counter-culture? My daughter and I have been talking about all of this recently. It’s such a treat to find someone else who grew up similarly that may have input as well.
Brand Shelton said,
July 2, 2007 at 10:44 am
The day care hippie was Ray Patch (now Rashid), and for Shawn’s benefit, Chris and Nina’s mom was Joan Barto, who later was sort of my sister in law (ex wife of my then wife’s brother, if you follow).
I was one of the older kids, in Symbas . . . sort of, though my time was spent more on sex, drugs and rock and roll than studious endeavor.