The world was a
different place in the late 1960’s, especially in Berkeley, California. There
were demonstrations and riots over the war in Vietnam, the student uprising in
France, and a decision that the University of Berkeley made that students did
not like--any excuse would do—that led to “The People’s Park Riots.” Berkeley
was the gathering place for about 100,000 hippies—most of whom were using drugs.
On any given Friday night 25 to 30 thousand young people would descend onto
Telegraph Avenue looking to buy drugs. LSD was the drug of choice. In 1969, at
age 20, it was here that I saw myself as king, for I was the main connection
for LSD.
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| Cliff Silliman, July 2012 |
It was on Telegraph
Avenue, the main street in Berkeley, that I encountered Holy Hubert, a bold
street preacher for Jesus. He told me daily, as I passed by, that I was going
to hell and that I was not only destroying my life but others lives as well, and
that God was going to hold me accountable. I laughed. I was raised as far away
from church as possible. Holy Hubert quoted any passage of the Bible from
memory—he actually had the whole Bible memorized. It seemed like a complete
waste of time to me.
My organization
consisted of me, two body guards, a driver, a courier, and a woman named Linda,
who had flipped out on an LSD high and thought she was a frog for about seven
months. We drove around in a VW van painted with red and white stripes down the
sides, and a blue top with white stars. I wore a leather fringed jacket, a
purple shirt, and bell-bottom jeans. In June of ‘69 our house was raided by a newly
formed federal drug task force. During the raid an undercover police officer
was shot by “friendly fire” while he was shooting at me. When the dust cleared,
my two bodyguards and I were in jail awaiting trial, and Linda was loose on the
streets.
No one knows how Linda
ended up at the Baptist Student Union, a fraternity house a few blocks from the
University of California, Berkeley campus. The fraternity brothers came home from a Bible
study and found Linda squatting like a frog on top of the kitchen table trying
to figure out what to do by throwing I-Ching cards, an old Chinese fortune
telling trick. The fraternity president said, “I rebuke you in Jesus’ name.”
The result was that Linda got instantly healed, no longer thought she was a
frog, and came into her right mind. A month later, when I was finally able to
get out of jail on bail, Linda’s story was circulating on streets, but I did
not see Linda for another nine months.
As soon as I got out
on bail, I went straight back to dealing drugs, adding cocaine to my inventory.
My daily drug use increased to at least five tablets of LSD and up to three
grams of coke a day to stay high all the time. Sometimes I’d take more to party
in the evenings. We mixed the powdered LSD or “acid” with Kool-Aid and drank it—never
knowing how strong it was. These parties were called Electric Kool-Aid Acid
Parties. Once I tripped out on 21 tablets of LSD and three glasses of Kool-Aid
acid, and went to a Terry Reed, Ike and Tina Turner, B.B. King and Rolling
Stones Concert at the Oakland Coliseum.
I was arrested three
times, but I always got released. The police had made errors in their strategy
every time. Finally we made a deal where I would plead to lessor charge and
could possibly get up to two years in jail. When I went to court the judge scolded
me about how I was a menace to society, but then he suddenly switched and put
me on probation to the dismay of everyone in courtroom. (I now know this was
the hand of God!) I got out of there before he could change his mind. When my
mom found out she was shocked. My old friend Jimmy, that first turned me on to
drugs, had just come back from Vietnam. We celebrated my release and Jimmy’s
homecoming with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Purple Earthquake was the live
band at the party—they were also our LSD connection.
In December of 1970,
fed up with hypocrisy and dishonest dealings, I decided to retire from drug
dealing and move to the backwoods of Oregon. I had found out my connections
were stealing from me, so I wanted to do one final deal and get back at those
guys and rip them off in a big way. I got one group to front me a literal ton
of marijuana (100 pressed bricks each weighing a kilo) and another group to
front me the money to pay for it, but instead of doing the transfer I took the
money and the pot and took off.
As I drove north up
Highway 101 in Northern California, in my brand new tan V.W. bug, I happened to
stop in Petaluma to get gas. I had heard Linda became a Christian and moved
into Zion’s Inn, a Christian discipleship house for women. She had converted my
friend, Jimmy and he moved into a guy’s house called Berachah House. As I
waited at the gas station, I realized Linda and Jimmy lived in Petaluma
somewhere with some Jesus People. I asked the guy at the gas station if he had ever heard of Berachah
House. He just happened to live next door and gave me directions.
I showed up at dinner
time and was invited to stay. Jimmy and Linda announced they were getting
married on Saturday. They asked for my help so I delayed my move to Oregon. I
was in turmoil because of the light in them and the darkness in me. No one witnessed
to me about their new-found faith, probably because they were afraid of me. Restless,
I decided to drive around the San Francisco Bay Area for a day and a half not
staying in any place long, since the drug dealers I ripped off would be looking
for me.
I stopped for gas in
Martinez. An off-duty policeman I knew came over to say hello to me. I told him
I was retiring and moving to Oregon. He said, “I probably will not see you
again, so I need to tell you something. God told me that I was to protect you
since He had plans for you. This is why I applied to be the lone beat cop on
Telegraph Avenue.” I was dumbfounded. The inner turmoil in me could not cope
with the information that God had plans for me! After driving back to Petaluma on
Friday morning, I had finally calmed down enough to deal with being around these Jesus freaks. I did not know that when I left they began praying around the clock
and for 36 hours they had prayed for my salvation.
While eating breakfast
at Beracha House, I saw a newspaper on the coffee table called “Right On” put
out by Christian World Liberation Front. Down in the left hand corner on the
cover was this highlighted box that said, “If you are not sure if Jesus is real
and died for your sins, ask Him. If He does not answer you, go on your way. If
He answers, give Him your whole life.” I noticed that uncomfortable feeling again.
During the course of the day as I helped Jimmy and Linda move their stuff into
an apartment, I continued to feel this weird stirring inside. While Jimmy and I
drove up Highway 101, on December 11, 1970, I decided to pray and do what the
newspaper suggested. I decided if Jesus showed up, I would want to get to know
Him better. So I prayed quietly in my head, “If you are real, Jesus, be real to
me.”
Immediately, my heart
was flooded with a peace that passes all understanding, quite different than
any drug high I had ever experienced. I knew that Jesus was real for nothing
could duplicate what I was experiencing. I quietly said to Jesus, “I am Yours.”
About ten minutes
later, still driving north on Highway 101, Jimmy realized that this would be
our last time together before I left for Oregon. He shared with me about his
faith and “the Four Spiritual Laws” (a pamphlet he had memorized). Jimmy asked
me if I wanted to pray to receive Christ.
I said, “I already did
that about five miles back.” God’s peaceful presence has been my constant
companion these 41 years. Jesus has always been there for me, in good times and
bad. The turmoil was replaced by peace—peace everlasting.
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| Jenna and Cliff Silliman, July 2012 |
harm you and have conquered it for you.]
I mean, what is wrong with these songs? Shouldn’t our sentiments be the same? Read the lyrics though and you will get a clue.
