Timothy Leary died at 12:15 AM on 5/31/96.
I cannot resist some personal
notes on his passing.
Mentioning Tim to younger people is usually greeted with blank looks. I
wonder if that means I am getting old or they are remiss in their history
lessons. As one of the most unique characters out of the pot boiling 60's,
he certainly was a tough act to follow. I am not sure celebrity is the
right word to describe Tim; indeed, I' m not sure words are appropriate.
History usually measures intriguing people in terms of inimitability. Tim
was one of a kind. He ran his life exactly as he wanted to, never paid the
slightest attention to convention........and got away with it. Possibly
the last of the free spirit-hippy lifestyle, straight from 1968. The rest
of them are either dead or mad.
There are those who vilify him, suggesting that he had consistently ordered
his life in the short term, reaping quick benefits from facile slogans and
bite-sized concepts, one of the world's greatest opportunists, always
looking for a new angle, never interested in the idea of making investments
to reap future dividends. Worse, he may have been a progenitor of the
perception that mind bending drugs unlock and define the person, a concept
that killed off almost all who tried it in earnest during his era. Most of these
criticisms are probably true. Yet, he always seemed to me to have a love and respect for people....he just never grew out of the 60's.
His personal magnetism attracted a diverse crew of followers and
hangers-on who gathered around him continuously. His home was cluttered 24
hours a day with all sorts of gypsies who pretty much came and went as they
pleased. His walls adorned with psychedelic posters, Volkswagen doors
painted with iridescent flowers; his library full of books signed for him
by the likes of William Burroughs, Aldous Huxley, Ken Kesey and memos from
the FBI wondering in print how to get rid of him. Life was one great, long
stream of consciousness bash, he once called me at 3 am just to talk about
the 60's. Seemed like the thing to do at the time.
His prostate cancer was probably already inoperable when his entourage
finally dragged him to a doctor. From that point on he never kept any
appointments for any meaningful treatment......too busy having a field day
with the media, his favorite sport. Pulling their strings over speculation
of how his end could be as bizarre as his life. When the pain began, he
called me with concern that the sport wasn't fun anymore and could
something be done to get him back in the game. He really had no physician
following him and so I arranged hospice by phone from Pittsburgh....easier
than I thought and I remain impressed with the California Hospice System.
Once effective palliative measures were instituted, relieving his pain but
sparing his intellect, the games continued in full swing. Having his brain
frozen for possible data uploading by some future computer not yet
invented, Hari-Kari on the Internet, his final moments televised on TV
during a wild party celebrating the event. Dying was just about the best
thing that ever happened to Timothy Leary. He called it his "de-animation
celebration" and hyped it far and wide with a big grin.
Tim did not have a great big de-animation bash at the end. There were no
media cameras, no fanfares....just the usual crew hanging around waiting to
see if he levitated or glowed in the dark. He didn't. In the end, he
simply quit breathing in his sleep just like the thousands of other
nameless faces around the universe that chose to follow him at that exact
instant. Even with the maximum media hype possible Tim was not able to
turn death into any other than the inevitable drab stillness. I suppose
there is a lesson there somewhere.
Even with warts, he was a really neat person and I liked him.
Timothy Leary's dead
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