Small World
Bo and I drove down to Cerrillos that warm weekday afternoon to check
out some land on which to potentially build our homes
and studios. After walking the rolling hills to the property's corners,
we drove down Goldmine Road and checked into Mary's Bar for a cold one.
Mary's is one of those country bars that in spite of its' uniqueness
seem ubiquitous here in New Mexico. There was an older Anglo, with salt
and pepper beard and ponytail on the porch of the bar along with a
couple of local vatos shooting the shit. We never saw Mary or anyone else in
her employ that day. After selecting a couple of beers from the cooler,
we left what we thought was an appropriate amount of cash on the bar,
and went outside to drink with the others.
An animated conversation ensued with the longhair and myself leading the discussion. In time a joint was produced out of nowhere and passed around. We introduced ourselves, and our new friend reciprocated, telling us his full name, "Cornelius Joseph McFadden". It seemed a mouthful, but he added that we could call him Neal.
Stories were traded, with his side of the conversation spanning accounts of his small gold mining operation, to smuggling marijuana across the Mexican-American border decades earlier. That particular tale ended with Neal's incarceration in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary, and his assertion that his then friend, Tim Leary, had sold the smuggling operation out in order to relieve some pressure which he was feeling from the feds as a result of his own legal problems. Neal had no soft spot in his heart for Leary. Seven years in the Big House will do that, I suppose. Then the discussion turned to Richard Alpert, aka Baba Ram Das, Tim's cohort at Harvard, Millbrook, and beyond and their exploration of the psychotropic benefits of LSD and human consciousness. Neal professed a love and respect for Ram Das, calling him "my guru". He was a powerful and interesting guy, and it was an afternoon that stuck with me. I vowed to look Neal up when I would finally move to New Mexico a couple of years hence.
An animated conversation ensued with the longhair and myself leading the discussion. In time a joint was produced out of nowhere and passed around. We introduced ourselves, and our new friend reciprocated, telling us his full name, "Cornelius Joseph McFadden". It seemed a mouthful, but he added that we could call him Neal.
Stories were traded, with his side of the conversation spanning accounts of his small gold mining operation, to smuggling marijuana across the Mexican-American border decades earlier. That particular tale ended with Neal's incarceration in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary, and his assertion that his then friend, Tim Leary, had sold the smuggling operation out in order to relieve some pressure which he was feeling from the feds as a result of his own legal problems. Neal had no soft spot in his heart for Leary. Seven years in the Big House will do that, I suppose. Then the discussion turned to Richard Alpert, aka Baba Ram Das, Tim's cohort at Harvard, Millbrook, and beyond and their exploration of the psychotropic benefits of LSD and human consciousness. Neal professed a love and respect for Ram Das, calling him "my guru". He was a powerful and interesting guy, and it was an afternoon that stuck with me. I vowed to look Neal up when I would finally move to New Mexico a couple of years hence.
