I Knew the Guru

You may not have heard of the great times we had in Oregon back in the early 1980s. A guru from India and the American sheep he regularly sheared set up shop on a big ranch in Eastern Oregon and called it Rajneeshpuram. Oregonians were naturally suspicious of all the “oooing and ohming.” Especially when it turned out to be sort of a haven for free love, which was too much like San Francisco for our taste. (We were used to paying for it.)

And then it turned out that the head cheese, “the Bhagwan,” was REALLY adept at shearing the flock. At the height of his rule he HAD BEEN GIVEN 32 Cadillacs, mostly by people with Hollywood connections who were smitten by his meditatiousness. And each day he would mount up and drive among the flock, smiling enigmatically and waving one bony arm. It was during the time he had a vow of silence going, which led to trouble right there in River City.

He had this moll, Sheela, a really good lookin’ guruite who first served as his hatchet-person and then slowly took over the whole shebang. Sheela and a bunch of her followers started dressing in red; she set off her costume with a pistol worn on her hip.

She got the tribe mixed up in politics, first taking over the nearest city, and then trying to elect some of their butt-cracks to the Board of County Commissioners. They put out the word that anybody in the U.S. who was homeless could move to Rajneeshpuram, and register to vote. And then to cut down on the number of “regular” voters, the clan spiked salad bars in the largest city with salmonella, sickening dozens of people.

(Sometime during this mish-mash I had a sit-down with the Bhagwan. I said, "How can life be improved?" And he said: "A fragrant leaf of the spreading chestnut will be dead meat in the fall." So I have lived my life according to this precept.)

When these shenanigans were investigated by the U.S. attorney for Oregon, the Rajneesh inner circle hatched a plot to kill him. Scientists said this was “too bad,” and somebody would have to go to jail. And rafts of the “sannysins” did, for assault, attempted murder, immigration conspiracy, arranging sham marriages, arson, burglary, electronic eavesdropping, perjury and harboring a fugitive.

The Bhagwan made a run for it but was caught in North Carolina. He eventually was deported to India, where he had a minor resurgence before dying. And it turned out he wasn’t really a bad guy; he seems responsible for what they call, in India, “meditation tourism.” In Oregon, we contemplate our navels. We haven’t found any tourists who want to watch us.

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My favorite word today is stall. V., after you; no, after you. Def.: The way into the hotel is blocked by two Alphonse-Gaston types waiting for the other to be first to enter the revolving door.