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       # 2025-05-11 - The Commune Comes To America
       
       LIFE Vol 67, No. 3
       July 18, 1969
       
       Youthful pioneers leave society to seek, from the land and one
       another, a new life.
       
   IMG Cover Image
       
       Photographed by John Olson
       
   IMG Teepee Foundation
       
       At a commune in the wilderness (above), a young man begins work on
       his new home, a teepee.  At right, in front of another teepee, he and
       fellow members of the commune gather together for a group portrait.
       
   IMG Group Portrait
       
       Their hair and dress, their pioneer spirit, even their Indian teepees
       evoke the nation's frontier beginnings.  These young people are
       members of a commune, which they have created for themselves as a new
       and radical way of living.  Scores of these communes are springing up
       all across the U.S.  In the wilderness areas of the West, Southwest,
       and New England, the new settlers build their own homes--adobe huts,
       log cabins, geodesic domes--share their money and labor and legislate
       their own laws and taboos.
       
       The youthful pioneers, unlike the earlier Americans who went into the
       wilderness to seek their fortunes, are refugees from affluence.
       Though there have been previous such experiments in the U.S., the new
       communes represent an evolution of the philosophy and life-style of
       the hippie movement.  Most members have fled the big cities--New
       York's East Village, San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury--where they were
       beset by crime, police harassment, squalor, and disillusionment.
       They seek in the land, and in one another, meaningful work, mutual
       love, and spiritual rebirth.  Their religion is rooted in many
       faiths--among them Christianity, Hinduism, and Zen Buddhism.  Some
       communes permit LSD and marijuana, but many now discourage their use
       or even ban them.  Some take a broad view of sexual morality, but in
       many communes couples practice traditional American monogamy, and
       sexual behavior is often surprisingly pristine.  Young children,
       however, are raised by all adults and by the older children in the
       commune, which itself is often referred to as "the Family."
       
       Many of the settlers dropped out of teaching and other professions
       and are particularly ill-prepared to carve a living out of nature.
       The winters are harsh, the earth hard.  Often they resort to shopping
       at the nearest stores.  They also find that many of the constraints
       they sought to escape are necessary--an orderly work routine,
       community health regulations.  They almost invariably encounter
       hostility and even violence from local people.  Another threat is
       unwanted visitors--the sightseers from "straight" society and weekend
       hippies who descend upon them to freeload.  To protect their privacy,
       members of the commune shown on these pages asked LIFE not to reveal
       their location but to describe it merely as "somewhere in the woods."
       
   IMG Hexagonal Lodge
       
       The focal point of the commune is the hexagonal lodge (above), which
       includes a kitchen area with a cast-iron stove and a library with 500
       well-read books, including volumes on the occult and crop raising.
       
   IMG Wood Splitting
       
       A commune member, Will (above), splits logs to build up the 90-cord
       stockpile of firewood needed for next winter.  At right, two women
       go into the two-acre garden to pick vegetables for the day's main
       meal.
       
   IMG Garden
       
       Shortly after dawn the sharp ring of a Buddhist gong starts the day
       for the 41-member Family in the commune.  Most of the day is devoted
       to labor.  They must plant, cultivate, and harvest vegetables,
       supplement their diet with fishing trips (right), and split and store
       logs for the long winter.  The adults range from 17 to 32 and
       represent widely diverse backgrounds.  One was an actor, one an
       office worker, another a welder.  They started the commune 14 months
       ago after making a down payment on 240 acres of woodland.  They faced
       problems from the start: they miscalculated the harshness of their
       first winter and ran out of firewood.  They still have not realized
       their hope of becoming self-sufficient--members use their savings and
       money from part-time work to pay off their mortgage and buy supplies
       in town 20 miles away.  Most of the 11 children are very young, and
       there is as yet no provision for formal schooling.  The older
       children teach the younger ones, and they themselves are taught by
       their parents when they express an interest.  But soon, under state
       law, several of the children will have to attend a licensed school.
       
   IMG Family Photo
       
       Alone in their teepee at the end of a day of communal work,
       meditation, and play, a family within the Family reads from a book of
       fairy tales before the children's bedtime. Ron, 36, a former computer
       programmer at a New York bank and his wife, Nancy, who went to
       Radcliffe, brought their daughter and 4-year-old son to the commune a
       year ago.  Before they joined the commune their search for faith had
       led them to become Quakers and to civil rights work...  We chose to
       devote our lives to God and the learn the lessons He teaches in the
       earth.
       
   IMG Bible Reading
       
       In the lodge, above, Nancy reads to herself from the Bible.  The
       children of the commune (below) are expected to help in occasional
       chores in the garden and kitchen, but spend much of their time in the
       surrounding woods hunting for berries or playing make-believe.
       
   IMG Children
       
   IMG Meal
       
       Above, Sandoz and Twig serve themselves a midday meal of rice,
       vegetables, and fruit.  Most of the members do not eat meat.  At
       right, as the coolness of the night comes to the mountains, Ama sits
       in silent meditation in the teepee he built last summer.  He is
       building a log cabin nearby where he plans to spend the winter with
       his wife Evening Star and their expected child.
       
   IMG Ama Meditating
       
       Although the commune may look like an early American frontier
       establishment, it certainly doesn't sound like one.  On the contrary,
       the pronouncements of members seem to have little connection with the
       realities of the world they have left behind.
       
       "We are entering the time of tribal dance," one member of the Family
       has written, "as we go to live in teepees, celebrate our joys
       together, and learn to survive.  We go to a virgin forest with no
       need for the previously expensive media of electric technology.  The
       energy we perceive within ourselves is beyond electric; it is atomic,
       it is cosmic, it is bliss."
       
       All the members speak in such mystical jargon of their new experience
       in the wilderness.  Many say that taking LSD opened their eyes
       originally.  Now they do not forbid drugs but they frown on their
       use.  They regard chopping wood, planting seeds, and washing clothes
       as acts of creative meditation which contribute as much to the
       spiritual well-being of the workers as to the good of the commune.
       They say that the hard work strips them of their city frustrations.
       
       Members have written a commune credo: "Getting out of the cities
       isn't hard, only concrete is.  Get it together.  This means on your
       own, all alone, or with a few of your friends.  Buy land.  Don't
       rent.  Money manifests.  Trust.  Plant a garden, create a center.
       Come together."
       
       Each evening before dinner members join hands and stand in a silent
       circle for two or three minutes.  Then they chant the Hindu holy
       syllable "Om" which trails off into the night sounds of the forest.
       In such a ceremony last Thanksgiving, an ordained minister came to
       the commune and married all the Family members to one another and
       then united a number of couples in matrimony.  "We were standing in a
       big circle and a cold rain began to fall," a woman recalls.  "It was
       like being married and baptized too."
       
       The commune has its share of everyday squabbling, and a little
       incident can bring the loftiest ideals abruptly back to earth.
       During a recent three-day fast by the group, one member whose spirit
       was weakened walked seven miles to a gas station to buy a candy bar.
       When the others spotted the empty wrapper sticking out of his back
       pocket, they laughed--and then /everyone/ continued the fast.
       
       A secluded creek (following page) used by the commune for swimming
       also provides the opportunity for a mother to grab an unwilling
       daughter and soap her hair.
       
   IMG Creek Bathing
       
       * * *
       
       # Happy Hippy of Days Past by Joan Momsen
       
       A friend of JCHS brought us a collection of photos and papers from
       the past.  It will take weeks, maybe months before we can identify
       the photos, if at all, and find a place to put the new collection.  I
       started to look through the papers and photos and found a LIFE
       magazine from July 18, 1969.  I immediately recognized the cover and
       recalled the story from 53 years ago.
       
       In 1969 one needed film to take a photo, then a lab to develop it.
       Taking, developing, and printing photos was time consuming and
       expensive.  Many people did not even own a camera, far distance from
       today where people use the camera on their cell phone on a regular
       basis.
       
       This old magazine recalled what part I had in the publishing of the
       article, although nothing official but just being there and providing
       a service.  I was working at the Greyhound Depot which also handled
       Western Union.  The cover story was about a commune near Wolf Creek.
       No mention of Wolf Creek or even Oregon is in the article.  There are
       just photos and words about a group of young Americans who gave up
       what we might call a civilized life to move into the woods, form a
       commune with other of like desires, and live off the land.  Most of
       us "normal folks" called them hippies and hippy settlements were all
       around us in Southern Oregon.  Some were not a problem, but others
       were, or at least their neighbors thought they were a problem.  These
       "kids" usually under the age of 30 just wanted to get away from it
       all.  Some might have been getting away from the draft and the
       Vietnam War.  Only the individual hippy could tell you why and that
       may have changed from day to day.
       
       As an Agent for Western Union, we were basically sworn to secrecy,
       and could not talk about what we had access to.  I am not going to
       divulge some things I remember about using Western Union telegraph
       lines because I am not sure if there are any limits of time about
       such things as destinations.  I still laugh to myself when I think of
       the abbreviations we used when sending many "wires" at the same time.
       I remember sending dozens of "night letters" to Senator Wayne Morse
       one night.  I do not remember what the issue was, but lots of folks
       sent wires to the Senator that night.  The address was Senator Wayne
       Morse, Senate Office Building, Washington D.C. which came out on a
       single line as Senator Wayne Morse, SOB, WashDC.
       
       For your information a "night letter" was a telegram that had more
       words for a cheaper rate and was to be delivered the first thing the
       next morning.  Night letters were what I sent for the LIFE
       photographer.  He came in each night to send undeveloped film
       canisters, 35mm, to Portland where they would be picked up at the
       Portland Greyhound Depot and delivered to the airport and sent air
       express to the final destination.  In this case, I think it was New
       York City which in night letter shorthand was NYC.
       
       The photographer would come in just before the last northbound bus
       would depart, around 8 in the evening.  He would also drop off a few
       hand written pages to be sent to NYC.  This was the night letter and
       it turned out to be the basis of the LIFE article.  I got to read the
       story before it was published.  The photographer told me the things
       written and photographed were in the Wolf Creek area but I was not to
       tell anyone.  I did not.  After 53 years I remember reading and
       typing the day's commentary, but do not remember if I kept an
       original copy.  He may have returned for it after he went and got
       himself some non-hippy fast food.
       
       I did not use Morse Code.  We had what we called a teleprinter.
       [Also known as a TTY.]  It was like an electric typewriter, only
       bigger and more foreboding.  I hit certain keys to send to certain
       areas and then I just typed out what was given to me.  If a typo was
       made, I put XXX behind the error and each time it came out on the
       other end, the XXX and the word before it was eliminated.  Where a
       Western Union office had the message print out on a long, thin strip
       of paper, they would just cut behind the XXX and glue the rest of the
       message over it.  If you remember telegrams, you understand and if
       you don't, sorry about that.
       
       So over a period of a couple of weeks, I would talk to the LIFE
       photographer each night, write up the waybill for the film shipped to
       Portland and then send his night letter.  I knew what was happening
       and so did many others in the area.  Seems that many of us were aware
       of what the hippies were doing.  Those of us that were "in the loop"
       knew about it when the magazine published, but I am not sure there
       are still people that did not know it was so near to Grants Pass and
       if they were to take a guess, they probably thought these particular
       hippies were in the Illinois Valley.
       
       The Editors' Note from the LIFE magazine of July 18, 1969 sums up the
       situation:
       
       # Two young men in a forest commune
       
       > Our lead story this week, which depicts life in one of the new
       > youth communes sprouting up around the country, is the work of two
       > of the youngest members of our staff, John Stickney, 23, and
       > Photographer John Olson, 22.  Stickney, who covers the youth scene
       > for us, looks as little like the conventional image of a reporter
       > as Olson, who covers the White House, resembles the stereotyped
       > elbows-and-flash-gun photographer.  Both are coolly intense, well
       > bethatched, bell-bottomed, and bespectacled.
       > 
       > "I get in trouble all the time because I was too involved," says
       > Stickney, slouching, with one boot resting on the ankle of the
       > other, his Navajo necklace dangling down his navy blue shirt.
       > "It's not supposed to be professional.  But I felt I had to get
       > involved in this story, or I wasn't going to get an accurate
       > impression of the commune life."
       > 
       > The commune dwellers are suspicious of journalists as they are of
       > the rest of the society they have deliberately abandoned.  Before
       > Stickney and Olson could begin their coverage, they had to win the
       > community's trust as individuals.  Only after a solemn one-hour
       > powwow in the community's pine-log lodge were Olson and Stickney
       > accepted--and then solely on the condition that LIFE would not
       > reveal the location of the commune.
       > 
       > "It was the first time I have had to sleep on the ground since
       > leaving Vietnam," says Olson, who covered the war first as
       > soldier-photographer, then as a member of the LIFE staff.  "But at
       > least I didn't have to worry about being mortared."  He reports a
       > preference for C-rations over the commune diet of grain, rice, and
       > lettuce.  "We shipped our film every day just so I could get a
       > cheeseburger--20 miles away." Stickney, a businessman's son who
       > grew up in Columbus, Ohio and majored in art at Williams College,
       > took time out from interviewing to learn how to chop wood and help
       > tote logs out of the forest.  Before Olson and Stickney had
       > completed their coverage, the members of the commune accepted them
       > as "brothers" and invited them to the family gathering known as
       > "the meeting of the spirit."
       > 
       > Both found themselves subtly changed by their stay in the commune.
       > "I went there feeling very suspicious," Olson says, "and I still
       > wouldn't drop out--but I can understand now how they would."
       > Stickney, remembering the haunting notes of a flute that echoed in
       > the midnight stillness, wants someday to go back.  "Out there," he
       > says, "you can see and breath, and smell things."
       > 
       > Ralph Graves, Managing Editor
       
       I suppose that tucked in the attics throughout Southern Oregon, one
       can find a few copies of this particular edition.  Storing a large
       group of magazines can be tedious and I know because my father saved
       LIFE magazine from 1936 to 1972 and stored them in our attic.  When
       Rogue Community College opened, we donated them all to their library.
       I doubt if they still have them, but they were neatly stacked in the
       library for a few years.
       
       When the July 18, 1969 copy arrived at our research library, I
       stopped what I was doing and read the article and looked at the
       photos.  I had not seen a copy since about 1972 and I just had to
       share my memories.
       
       * * *
       
       This commune is referred to as FAMILY OF MYSTIC ARTS in the
       LIST OF COMMUNES section on pages 47 and 48 of Steal This Book.
       
   DIR Steal This Book by Abbie Hoffman
       
       The members of this commune played a pivotal role in Vortex I,
       a psychedelic rock festival outside of Estacada, Oregon in 1970.
       This rock festival was inspired by Woodstock.  The participants
       went on to organize the first Rainbow Gathering.
       
  TEXT Vortex I (Wikipedia)
       
  HTML Vortex I gallery
       
  HTML Vortex I ebook (PDF)
       
  TEXT Rainbow Family (Wikipedia)
       
       tags:   article,community,counterculture,history,oregon
       
       # Tags
       
   DIR article
   DIR community
   DIR counterculture
   DIR history
   DIR oregon