Journey Alert
From 1969 to 1976: A Human Potential Movement Life Story
Journey changed many lives. Here is one story
by Bob Walter
Over 40 years ago when I was in my twenties, the world spread out before me like a banquet with limitless possibilities. This is the classic optimism of youth. In 1970 I was twenty-six. For the last five long years the possibility of being drafted for the Viet Nam war hung over my head like an oppressive cloud. I was working at CBS and taking twelve credits a semester at New York University toward a BS in business administration. NYU is a large, impersonal place with little social opportunities for a mid-twenties working student whose work schedule was 5pm to 1am. In addition, I attended classes from 8am to 2 or 3 pm. This hectic schedule coupled with having to work weekends pretty well ruled out any sort of social life.
One of my friends at work, Irv Elias, a fellow twenty-something audio engineer suffered a similar fate. Irv, a native of Queens New York had led a sheltered life, joined the army, and like me, was enjoying the freedom of high union wages and no responsibilities. Irv had an apartment on the Upper West Side and I had a small one-bedroom apartment on Sheridan Square in the heart of Greenwich Village. Irv enjoyed the sedate Upper-West-Side Manhattan life on West 72nd Street. I lived in the heart of Greewich Village which was anything but tranquil.
1970 was the peak of the peace and loveHippie movement. Haight Ashbury in San Franciso and Greenwich Village in New York were its twin epicenters. Every Saturday night, thousands of would-be hippies piled out of subways, filling Village streets to the point that motor traffic was impossible. Kids from the five boroughs, New Jersey and beyond searched Bleaker Street for peace, love. and drugs. I imagined that Berlin must have been like this during World War Two; people living as though it were the last day of their lives.
The smell of pot was everywhere. Happy, jostling crowds of brightly dressed boys and girls streamed in and out of head shops and book stores. Guitars were everywhere. Clubs featuring folk music had lines blocks long waiting to hear Bob Dylan, Pete Seegar, and other icons of the time.
I was a bit older than most and was alone. Having a good job and going to school separated me from this amazing movement. Dropping out was the last thing on my mind. But it would be nice to find some friends and cute women.
As it turned out, Irv felt pretty much the same way. He was reaching out to various organizations that had sprung up to serve the emotional needs of this new generation. He was particularly attracted to the human potentail movement. This movement, begun in the redwoods of Big Sur, spread along both coasts. Sandstone, a luxurious resort was human potential ground zero in California.
In New York there was Anthos, a spin off from Sandstone. I had read about Sandstone and it sounded exciting and, yes, sexy too. I can’t remember the name of the book, but I had found a paperback that talked about Sandstone and what went on there. I loved it. At the very end of the book was a list of associated organizations around the country. Anthos was listed for New York.
In 1970 I was 6 feet, 2 inches tall and weighed 170 lbs. I was pretty shy. My high school years were spent at an all boys boarding school in New Jersey. I wasn’t an athlete, so I wasn’t part of the “in” crowd. I hung out with the guys who showed the Saturday night movie and provided lighting and tech support to stage productions.I was a geek. I thought I was unattractive. The idea of talking to a stranger terrified me. I was always shocked when a girl would show interest in me.
My mother managed a dress shop in Brooklyn, and during this time she kept fixing me up with the twenty-something daughters of her customers. Invariably these girls lived deep in Brooklyn. While it was a long drive, each of those blind dates generally ended up in bed. Thanks to mom, I had a varied sex life. I rarely asked these girls out for a second date; not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid they would say, “no.”