Fears Of A Clown

Photo by Marc Margolis
 

You know Wavy Gravy: Before he was an ice-cream flavor, the ultimate 60s icon founded America’s longest-running hippie commune, pulled all kinds of wacky political pranks like trying to elect a pig for president, and was the Grateful Dead’s “official clown.” He also MCed the original Woodstock Festival and manned the freak-out tent there. Considering that he talked down so many bad trippers at arguably the worst trip of all time, we figured he’d have some good advice on what to do when you get “the Fear” (we were also hoping he’d use a bunch of cornball drug terms like “trip sitting” and “bogart,” but he kept those to a minimum).

Vice: So, Wavy, what do you do when someone’s really freaking out?

Wavy Gravy: I get calls all the time saying, “I’m so high, what should I do, what should I do?” And I say, “OK, do this: Go out and get some root beer and some ice cream, make a root-beer float, and drink it. If that doesn’t work, call me back.” I never get called back. The sheer effort of going to the store and copping the root beer and the vanilla ice cream seems to send them right to Straightland.

Ha ha ha, “copping the root beer.” But seriously, that’s your secret move? Ice cream?

Yep. It gives them a task. And by the time they complete the task, they’re fine.

Was that what you prescribed to all the brown acid casualties at Woodstock?

I remember when the first guy came in, ranting. There was nobody there but some doctors in white coats and me, wearing this cowboy hat with a pig coming out the front, from where this other guy that was tripping had bit a hole in it. The guy in the tent is going, “Miami Beach, Joyce, 1944!” so this 200-pound Australian doctor lays down on top of him and says, “Body contact.” So the guy’s being squished and this other white-coat is yelling at him, “Just open your third eye!” but he’s still screaming “Joyce! Joyce! Miami Beach!” I figure it’s time for me to make my move, so I ask the guy, “Hey, what’s your name, man?” And he yells, “Joyce!” “No, what’s your name?” He says, “Bob.” I say, “Guess what? Your name is Bob.” And I could tell that he liked that, so I told him several times. You could see the lost bottles float out of his eyes. So then I tell him, “Bob, you’ve taken a little acid and it’s gonna wear off,” because that’s what he needed to hear.

What about you, Wavy Gravy—what do you do when you freak out yourself?

I think I stopped being afraid on a mescaline trip on the Coney Island roller coaster. I got something like a hundred tickets and after the first half hour, my whole life changed. I was afraid they’d nab me for having too much fun sitting in the front car and knitting. It’s a question of biting through. And, to paraphrase St. Francis of Assisi, “Every time you kiss a leper on the mouth he turns into Jesus Christ.” That’s Nikos Kazantzakis speaking for St. Francis.

Ah, right. Any last loopy aphorisms?

Remember: Thinking gets in the way of thought.

Fantastic.

CHARLES BEAN