“Do you know Herbert Huncke?” Allen Ginsberg asked. “He’s the oldest living junkie in New York, and an old sidekick of Burroughs and Kerouac”

“The cops dropped me in the street and disappeared. My face, and my press card, were covered with blood. I went to the hospital to get five stitches in my forehead. So I missed the climax of the Yip-In, but I can pass on various accounts of witnesses”

"The Mayor greeted the march, and reiterat­ed his call for an end to the war. Finally there seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel. So encouraged, 90,000 people came to the Sheep Meadow last Saturday to press for final resolution."

The funeral notices had been printed. They were small stiff cards, bordered in black, reading “HIPPIE. In the Haight-Ashbury district of this city, Hippie, de­voted son of Mass Media. Friends are invited to attend services beginning at sunrise, October 6, 1967, at Buena Vista Park.”

“The Grateful Dead were in town and the prospects for peace looked promising. A happy, scruffy parade of 80 marched down St. Mark’s Place, complete with police escort, to present the Dead with a white carnation key to the East Village, graciously accepted by Pigpen.”