The Initiation

The Initiation

Excerpt from: Hearings Before the Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations of the

Committee on Government Operations United States Senate Ninety-third Congress

Second Session

"The investigation by the subcommittee staff included a review of approximately 10,000 pages of notes made by University Center employees on a shit-by-shift basis. From these documents, it was apparent that patients were deeply involved in the use of illegal drugs.

For example, of 23 patients admitted to University Center in 1972 for whom we had files, 18 of them or more than 75 percent of the patients were illegal drug users according to our review of the files and from interviews.

Four recently discharged patients had been identified to us as those who sold drugs to other patients within the center. Each of the four are living in Ann Arbor. In order to insure their privacy, we will refer to them as John Does, but their actual names are contained in interview reports in the closed files of the subcommittee.

The interviews took place over a 5-day period in June. One of the boys, a John Doe 59, was incoherent much of the time and could not be interviewed. The others were interviewed by us several times, individually and together, when they were in various stages of sobriety. Ray Mollenhoff's questioning was aimed at determining their credibility. We asked for dates of drug-related events in which they were involved at University Center and the dates checked out. There were other checks used to establish their credibility.

As a result, we were convinced that what these boys were telling us was reasonably credible."

* * *

Robo was the name that I was "knighted" with in 1972, almost from my first day at the University Center. It was Tex, who bequeathed my title, after "getting high" with him. I remember the first time that I experienced a marijuana high to this day.

Tex corralled me to join him for a walk after supper that day. We stepped out into the stretch of forest behind the center. I looked at the sky above us, as it turned a dark purple as the sun set. The 2-acre forest lay behind the center quickly became dark. We followed a minor path that cut through to the a larger, more distinct one that led toward one of the many university dorm room buildings, one of many spread out among the huge University of Michigan campus. Tex broke off from the main footpath and led me through a patch of dense brush. It was getting darker around us before we finally broke through into an impromptu clearing. I began to feel a bit testy. I had not spoken to Tex since we came out into the forest.

"Where are we going?"

Tex's voice issued from the shadows.

"We're just heading out to for a pow-wow. A lot of people get high out here."

I nodded. Then I heard familiar voices in the shadows. Bill Farmer, Russell, Roger and Dwayne showed up from another direction. Bill motioned for us to follow him deeper into the forest. We emerged into a sort of makeshift clearing. One of them had cleared an area for all of us to sit in. The remnants of still usable plastic chairs and a paper bag filled with sodas and chips lay scattered in the clearing. A small pile of twigs was set up in its center as an impromptu kind of campfire.

Tex chuckled.

"Time for you to get high, man."

Bill looked at me and smiled. He reminded me of John Lennon. Bill wore round wire-rimmed glasses. His curly black locks cascaded down below his shoulders and he favored wearing a solid green fatigue jacket. I think it was Bill's quiet demeanor that reminded me of John Lennon. If I were to compare Bill's personality to something natural, it would be a lake.

Russell's personality was just as calm as Bill's. Russell's personality, though quiet, felt like it seethed with a deeper, darker emotion. Perhaps I felt that after he had shown me the scars on his back and shoulders one night - pockmarked spots of white from burns his mother had left from cigarettes she had used to punish him as a child. I could not imagine any child going through that kind of abuse.

Russell produced a party joint that had been rolled in my honor. (Apparently, one of the group had made a special trip to the heart of downtown Ann Arbor, known then as the "Diag"). Russell had an "in" with one of the guys who used to live in the Center. He made a special 45-mile trip to Dearborn to score a very expensive bag of Sinsemilla, a seedless, potent form of weed to usher my initiation into their world.

I looked at Dwayne. It was obvious that Dwayne was already high...on something. His appearance was always disheveled, and he smelled like glue. I cannot remember a time when Dwayne did not wear a soiled t-shirt and jeans. His personality was "flaky". He would often vacillate from calm to anger in a split second, even laugh in situations that did not warrant humor. I figured it was the glue that he often inhaled. He would be lucky to see the age of 20.

I could barely make out their features in the light that remained in the surrounding forest.

I smiled at the group.

"Tex says we are getting high. So, what are we smoking?"

Bill produced a large, brown cylindrical cigarette at least 12 inches in length.

"We...rolled a party joint for all of us. The brown covering is actually hemp, a kind of paper made from the fiber of the cannabis plant."

He let me look at the party joint, in all its marijuana glory. The joint itself was composed of hemp. It was at least 12 inches long and fat with weed. I made a remark about how it smelled.

"Wow, this smells like a skunk."

Everyone laughed. Everyone that is, except Bill Farmer. He just chuckled. He produced a metal lighter, flipped open its lid and ignited some dry grasses that were under the twigs. It was only a few moments until we had a small fire crackling in the center of our group.

"It's a smell you get used to. This kind of weed is really strong and potent. So, you really have to get a feel for it."

Russell laughed.

"But it's a good buzz..."

Everyone laughed at his comment.

I nodded my head.

"So, I gotta inhale it?"

Everyone nodded. Bill looked at me for a moment. His eyes seemed very wise.

"So, you haven't smoked before?"

I shook my head.

"Just a small joint with Tex."

Bill looked concerned.

"Maybe you shouldn't do this."

Tex broke in.

"Naw, he can handle it. I've noticed ever since he got here that he can handle anything."

Russ lit a cigarette and choked a laugh.

"What, like a robot?"

Tex was silent for a moment.

"Yeah...yeah, like a robot. He's...different."

Bill nodded his head knowingly as he took hold of the party joint.

"Okay."

The air was suddenly filled with a dense, musky odor. I railed from the smell.

"Damn, that is strong."

Bill took a deep hit and talked a moment before he exhaled.

"Yeah, this is some very potent stuff. We figured we would stay with you and make sure you don't freak out."

Bill passed the joint to Russ, who took in a deep breath of smoke. He struggled to maintain his composure as he passed the joint to me. I could feel the heat of its smoldering embers as I looked at it.

"Just breathe it in?"

Russ exhaled with a "yeah".

I took a drag on the joint and instantly felt a hot, woody-kind of taste in my mouth as I dragged in the smoke. My lungs reacted instantly in a horrendous coughing fit that lasted many minutes. My eyes suddenly burned, my stomach reeled as I turned my head to retch, my arm outstretched to Dwayne, in a vain attempt to pass on the foul-tasting and awful-smelling substance that I had introduced to my system.

Russ pounded me on the back as I struggled to regain my breath.

"Hey man. You okay?"

I nodded my head, lying through my teeth to convince the four of them that I was in perfect condition and ready to press forward with their initiation rite. Dwayne laughed, only to take a long, deep drag of the joint...a breath that seemed to consume almost half of the party joint in just a few seconds. His actions elicited a mad cry from Tex.

"Damn Dwayne! You don't have to bogart that joint!"

Bill brought both of his hands down in a calming kind of motion.

"Don't worry. We have plenty of rolling papers and half a bag left. Tex, just take a hit and pass it along."

Tex complied, taking a couple of deep breaths and then taking a deep drag on the joint. He leaned back on his shoulders a moment; his legs crossed. The small fire illuminated a look of satisfaction on his face as he stared into the flames. He passed the joint over to Bill, landing hard on his back with a laugh. Bill took a small drag on it. I was amazed that in only a few minutes, the 12-inch joint that had been packed with those skunky, awful-smelling leaves was almost gone. Bill wordlessly passed the joint to Russ, who complied by taking in a short drag as well. Bill pointed to me and spoke.

"Russ, give him a shotgun."

Tex cackled with glee.

"Yeah! A shotgun! He can take that!"

Dwayne laughed and echoed his sentiment by starting a chant.

"Shotgun! Shotgun! Shotgun!"

Russ smiled and motioned them to silence. Speaking softly in his light, southern accent.

"Okay, okay. Hold on now. Man... you need to bend your head closer to me."

I looked dumbfounded.

"Huh?"

Russ took offense to my question.

"Look, I'm not gonna kiss ya, goddamit. I need to blow the smoke in your face. You just try to breathe it in. Got it?"

I nodded.

Russ put what was left of the joint in between his hands.

"Okay. You ready?"

I bent my head toward Russ as he blew slowly into the lit end of the joint. A heavy trail of smoke lashed out at me as he continued to blow out. I took in what I could, as Bill's voice rang in my ears.

"Okay, now hold your breath!"

I held my breath, as my lungs were seared with the hot feel of the smoke. My eyes watered as I strained not to let out anything that could be construed as a breath.

Russ spoke up softly.

"Okay, now breathe out slowly. Let the smoke out a little at a time."

I let out my breath slowly. Apparently, smoke issued from my lips and nose, because a roar of applause erupted from the group. Tex interrupted the gleeful exchange.

"So, how do you feel?"

I waited and shook my head.

"I feel...clearer."

A look of shock crossed Tex's face.

"Huh? Any of you feel...clear?"

Russ sat back and chuckled.

"I feel light. And tired."

Bill smiled.

"Yeah. I feel mellow, too."

Tex looked over to Dwayne, who was passing his fingers in front of his eyes. Dwayne looked back at Tex and cackled.

"I'm stoned like a motherfucker."

Tex looked at me.

"Damn. You don't feel anything?"

I looked at Tex.

"No. I feel something. I feel like everything is clearer."

Tex shook his head. His voice was still incredulous, now almost demanding.

"That's it? You're just...clearer?"

I nodded.

Tex slapped his leg.

"Holy Damn! We all just smoked a big fat joint of Sinsemilla that kicked all our asses and you just feel...clearer? I know what we're gonna call you. We're calling you, Robo!"

Bill laughed.

"What?"

Russ looked at Tex.

"Damn, Tex. Give him a break. He doesn't feel anything, he doesn't feel anything. It's not like he took a big drag. Way I see it, we got high for him."

Tex rose up, slapping his leg again.

"Fuck that. From now on, he is "Robo". He doesn't feel nothin'. He's like...like...you know. That show we saw on T.V. The one with that guy...the pointy ears."

Bill and Russ laughed.

"Star Trek?"

Tex nodded.

"Yeah. Like Star Trek. What's his name?"

"Spock."

"Yeah, Spock. Only he's Robo. Everybody got that?"

Russ chuckled.

"Yeah. Kinda rolls off the tongue, don't it? Robo"

Dwayne started to laugh, so much so that Bill decided it was time to head back inside.

"Okay. Robo. From now on, you are Robo."

I nodded.

"Okay."

As we headed inside, I remember Tex slapping me on the back as if I was his newfound discovery. An alien from another planet.

"Damn! We got us a Robo!"

It was a name that stuck with me until I would leave the center, two years later.

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