Berkeley Barb (1970) Two goddesses Pat and Nancy OM and their companion, Larry OM, announced the arrival of OM, Tuesday, on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. Their leader sounded the cry: “We are the OM United World Brigade come to announce the command of the OM Supreme Lord of the Universe. 6,000 years of guilt-consciousness are to be removed. We have come with our holy bodies to free you from your hang-ups, remove your fears. “If dicks are lewd, if pussies are obscene, then God is lewd; God is obscene. For it is God who made the dick to fit the pussy; God who has made the pussy to fit the dick. They tell us to cover our bodies, to cover them in fear and loathing. But just as we have removed our clothing in freedom, so too can you remove your clothing of fear and guilt and raise copulation back to the divine level that it had before man’s folly and fear lowered it to the animal. “They tell us that the sight of the naked body causes sex crimes, that rape, murder, and perversion will result from the sight of our nakedness. But OM tells us that we must restore our lost appreciation for our bodies, our repressed love for ourselves. For nakedness cannot cause crime, cannot cause evil. Nakedness announced to the world can only lead to the Holy Fuck, the reunification with the divine love. “We do not announce the ‘Sex Orgy.’ We announce the true spirit of the high holy act of fucking. People must be free to fuck without molestation, without fear, without guilt. All prophecies are from OM. All of OM’s prophecies are true.” The trio of servants of OM walked from Durant to Bancroft on Telegraph causing very little excitement on the Avenue, which evidently found the challenge of nudity easier to take than rocks and tear gas. The more easily offended Berkeley Police, however, stopped the OM United World Brigade shortly after they hitched a ride at Bancroft. They were taken to jail, charged with failure to identify themselves and licentious and lewd conduct. “OM lovers are safe from molesters and sex offenders,” said the messenger, “Once they realize this, thousands will heed the call and join the Brigade to shatter the myths of repression sustained for the last 6,000 years.” Anyone interested in making the first step to heed the call of OM should inquire at 493 62nd St., Oakland, or call 655-6844. Donations for the bail of the arrested Lovers can also be sent to the same address.
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Berkeley Barb (1970)

Two goddesses Pat and Nancy OM and their companion, Larry OM, announced the arrival of OM, Tuesday, on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. Their leader sounded the cry:

“We are the OM United World Brigade come to announce the command of the OM Supreme Lord of the Universe. 6,000 years of guilt-consciousness are to be removed. We have come with our holy bodies to free you from your hang-ups, remove your fears.

“If dicks are lewd, if pussies are obscene, then God is lewd; God is obscene. For it is God who made the dick to fit the pussy; God who has made the pussy to fit the dick. They tell us to cover our bodies, to cover them in fear and loathing. But just as we have removed our clothing in freedom, so too can you remove your clothing of fear and guilt and raise copulation back to the divine level that it had before man’s folly and fear lowered it to the animal.

“They tell us that the sight of the naked body causes sex crimes, that rape, murder, and perversion will result from the sight of our nakedness. But OM tells us that we must restore our lost appreciation for our bodies, our repressed love for ourselves. For nakedness cannot cause crime, cannot cause evil. Nakedness announced to the world can only lead to the Holy Fuck, the reunification with the divine love.

“We do not announce the ‘Sex Orgy.’ We announce the true spirit of the high holy act of fucking. People must be free to fuck without molestation, without fear, without guilt. All prophecies are from OM. All of OM’s prophecies are true.”

The trio of servants of OM walked from Durant to Bancroft on Telegraph causing very little excitement on the Avenue, which evidently found the challenge of nudity easier to take than rocks and tear gas.

The more easily offended Berkeley Police, however, stopped the OM United World Brigade shortly after they hitched a ride at Bancroft. They were taken to jail, charged with failure to identify themselves and licentious and lewd conduct.

“OM lovers are safe from molesters and sex offenders,” said the messenger, “Once they realize this, thousands will heed the call and join the Brigade to shatter the myths of repression sustained for the last 6,000 years.”

Anyone interested in making the first step to heed the call of OM should inquire at 493 62nd St., Oakland, or call 655-6844. Donations for the bail of the arrested Lovers can also be sent to the same address.

Photo by Nacio Jan Brown for San Francisco Express Times (1969) “Monsieur Big Bill Miller, former provo, currently a candidate for city council, pictured with comrades above, has been ordered to vacate The Store by the man who holds the lease, Mr. Yarmo, owner of Yarmo’s dress shop, next door to the store on Telegraph Avenue. The Store is a teenage hangout-haven. They created it, they seem to run it. Selling old clothes. Talking tactics. The Store, like Moe’s books across the street, stays open long into the street war, letting people rest in temporary safety. Bill is willing to find another location so that Yarmo can have his shoe department. But Yarmo is in a hurry. On February 18th, Bill was informed that he had three days to get out or start paying $1000 a month rent. Last summer, Yarmo kept a cool head. He felt he needed police “protection” and urged other merchants to cooperate with the authorities. Bill suggested that protection from the police was more like it. Tete a tete. Nose to nose. Bill told me: “I understand Mr. Yarmo’s been threatened and I’m sorry about that…” Meanwhile, as Bill and I spoke, a Berkeley prowl car double-parked out in front of Pepe’s, three doors down. Kids whisked by the door. Bill excused himself. I followed him out. Two young cops grappled with a longhair in the tiny space between their car and a parked car. He would not go. Not for “spitting on the sidewalk” as the cops said. Forty Avenue hips surrounded the car. Kicked in the headlights. Flattened the front two tires. The police could barely control their prisoner. A strawberry malt splattered across the lovely brown uniform. They hobbled off in their crippled car, with prisoner, to the peppery tune of bottles heaved in crossfire, accompanied by loud unforced laughter. Word of the incident flashed down the street. The following day, street brothers joined campus militants in the first major skirmish of 1969.”
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Photo by Nacio Jan Brown for San Francisco Express Times (1969)

“Monsieur Big Bill Miller, former provo, currently a candidate for city council, pictured with comrades above, has been ordered to vacate The Store by the man who holds the lease, Mr. Yarmo, owner of Yarmo’s dress shop, next door to the store on Telegraph Avenue.

The Store is a teenage hangout-haven. They created it, they seem to run it. Selling old clothes. Talking tactics. The Store, like Moe’s books across the street, stays open long into the street war, letting people rest in temporary safety.

Bill is willing to find another location so that Yarmo can have his shoe department. But Yarmo is in a hurry. On February 18th, Bill was informed that he had three days to get out or start paying $1000 a month rent. Last summer, Yarmo kept a cool head. He felt he needed police “protection” and urged other merchants to cooperate with the authorities. Bill suggested that protection from the police was more like it.

Tete a tete. Nose to nose. Bill told me: “I understand Mr. Yarmo’s been threatened and I’m sorry about that…”

Meanwhile, as Bill and I spoke, a Berkeley prowl car double-parked out in front of Pepe’s, three doors down. Kids whisked by the door. Bill excused himself. I followed him out.

Two young cops grappled with a longhair in the tiny space between their car and a parked car. He would not go. Not for “spitting on the sidewalk” as the cops said. Forty Avenue hips surrounded the car. Kicked in the headlights. Flattened the front two tires. The police could barely control their prisoner. A strawberry malt splattered across the lovely brown uniform. They hobbled off in their crippled car, with prisoner, to the peppery tune of bottles heaved in crossfire, accompanied by loud unforced laughter. Word of the incident flashed down the street.

The following day, street brothers joined campus militants in the first major skirmish of 1969.”

Provo Park, May 24, 1970 “The Youngbloods have come back to Berkeley to make good a promise. A couple months ago their concert at the Berkeley Community Theatre was fucked up by the promoter, and the rock band only got to play 15 minutes before the power was shut off. No refunds were given for the aborted show, and the Youngbloods vowed to return and do a free concert. So, this Sunday in Provo Park at 2 pm. the band will play for everyone. Jeffrey Cain will also be there, and he’s really a bad motherfucker.”
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Provo Park, May 24, 1970

“The Youngbloods have come back to Berkeley to make good a promise. A couple months ago their concert at the Berkeley Community Theatre was fucked up by the promoter, and the rock band only got to play 15 minutes before the power was shut off. No refunds were given for the aborted show, and the Youngbloods vowed to return and do a free concert. So, this Sunday in Provo Park at 2 pm. the band will play for everyone. Jeffrey Cain will also be there, and he’s really a bad motherfucker.”

Photo by Nacio Jan Brown for San Francisco Express Times (1968) A beautiful barricade, consisting of perhaps ten desks, twenty chairs and five filing cabinets, was constructed—protecting those in Moses Hall from imminent assault by police representing the entire Bay Area. Unfortunately, the door opened outward. It didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time, although it was fun while it lasted. A group of students were essentially saying “fuck you” to the university. It worked. Everyone was outraged. Now the campus leaders, because of what happened in Moses, are able to call a strike of the student body. They say action must be taken but that Moses Hall was a “tactical mistake.” But there is a new “issue” and the campus has the students in Moses Hall to thank for it. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as the Chancellor said it was. Property was more rearranged than damaged. Those who used the sit-in to steal typewriters and play with the files certainly weren’t the ones who stayed to be arrested. Police spilled out the file cabinets, student’s didn’t. Every time there was a rumor that the police were coming, there was a line at the bathrooms. The toilet paper, however, was streaming down the side of the building. People expected to be killed. A sinister looking crowd, milling around bonfires outside, kept us company through the night. We knew that when the police arrived the crowd would split, but their presence did give some comfort. Our comrades on the outside were upset when we wouldn’t leave the building. Some individuals did get away by slipping out just before the arrests. Even if everyone had left, however, most would have been picked up on warrants the next day. A sea of police swept out whoever stayed around the building at five thirty in the morning. It was really impressive to those watching inside. Hundreds of blue helmets reflected the still burning bonfire. “Repressive tolerance,” someone observed. When they broke into the building it was an anticlimax. Two officials cleared a desk from the last barricade, then replaced it so that the press could photograph them doing it. They walked into the room where we sat peacefully, scared shitless, and led us out to preliminary booking. No one was informed that he was arrested. Everyone was searched, photographed and fingerprinted and led into a room downstairs. Stu Albert, amateur attorney, observed that we had never been asked to leave the building. Since we had never been told that we were under arrest, a vote was taken. We decided to leave the building. A confused cop from Novato refused to let us go. The girls sang “Solidarity Forever” as they were led to the bus. The guys, not knowing the words, sang “Mickey Mouse” instead. Then we went to Santa Rita. — Paul Glusman Check out this interview with Nacio Jan Brown on the Leica Camera Blog And here are my previous posts of his photography
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Photo by Nacio Jan Brown for San Francisco Express Times (1968)

A beautiful barricade, consisting of perhaps ten desks, twenty chairs and five filing cabinets, was constructed—protecting those in Moses Hall from imminent assault by police representing the entire Bay Area. Unfortunately, the door opened outward.

It didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time, although it was fun while it lasted. A group of students were essentially saying “fuck you” to the university. It worked. Everyone was outraged.

Now the campus leaders, because of what happened in Moses, are able to call a strike of the student body. They say action must be taken but that Moses Hall was a “tactical mistake.” But there is a new “issue” and the campus has the students in Moses Hall to thank for it.

Actually, it wasn’t as bad as the Chancellor said it was. Property was more rearranged than damaged. Those who used the sit-in to steal typewriters and play with the files certainly weren’t the ones who stayed to be arrested. Police spilled out the file cabinets, student’s didn’t.

Every time there was a rumor that the police were coming, there was a line at the bathrooms. The toilet paper, however, was streaming down the side of the building. People expected to be killed. A sinister looking crowd, milling around bonfires outside, kept us company through the night. We knew that when the police arrived the crowd would split, but their presence did give some comfort.

Our comrades on the outside were upset when we wouldn’t leave the building. Some individuals did get away by slipping out just before the arrests. Even if everyone had left, however, most would have been picked up on warrants the next day.

A sea of police swept out whoever stayed around the building at five thirty in the morning. It was really impressive to those watching inside. Hundreds of blue helmets reflected the still burning bonfire. “Repressive tolerance,” someone observed.

When they broke into the building it was an anticlimax. Two officials cleared a desk from the last barricade, then replaced it so that the press could photograph them doing it. They walked into the room where we sat peacefully, scared shitless, and led us out to preliminary booking.

No one was informed that he was arrested. Everyone was searched, photographed and fingerprinted and led into a room downstairs. Stu Albert, amateur attorney, observed that we had never been asked to leave the building. Since we had never been told that we were under arrest, a vote was taken. We decided to leave the building. A confused cop from Novato refused to let us go.

The girls sang “Solidarity Forever” as they were led to the bus. The guys, not knowing the words, sang “Mickey Mouse” instead. Then we went to Santa Rita. — Paul Glusman

Check out this interview with Nacio Jan Brown on the Leica Camera Blog

And here are my previous posts of his photography