When Camelot Grooved

Even though JFK Assassination Day is now behind us, the eternal flame still burns bright. In Jack’s memory, I give you the following piece, previously published in my book The Beast of Adam Gorightly. Below is a Mondo 2000 Magazine cover (autographed by Tim Leary and Oliver Stone) referring to the psychedelic subject at hand. Enjoy. -Adam 


When Camelot Grooved

© Adam Gorightly, 1993 

We are all by now familiar with JFK’s rampant womanizing and numerous sexual dalliances with secretaries and starlets behind White House walls while Jackie was off on spending sprees at Sacks Fifth Avenue. But one of the newest revelations to come to light in recent times was the alleged use of illicit drugs during his one thousand days in office such as LSD, marijuana and cocaine, not to mention the bizarre meta-amphetamine mixtures brewed up by JFK’s own personal physician, Dr. Max Jacobson.

Dr. Max, as he was affectionately known to his patients, came into prominence during the late 50’s and early 60’s, treating a veritable Who’s Who list of celebrities with his bountiful bag of drugs from which he mixed together–like a mad scientist–feel-good potions, shooting them into the golden veins of the rich and famous, along with liberal doses of positive thinking psycho-babble. Peter Lawford–a devoted patient  of Dr. Max’s–suggested to his brother-in-law, President Kennedy, that he invite Max to The White House so that Max could treat the Pres for the recurring back ailment he had suffered during WW2. (This was the very same injury that almost did JFK in when he had it operated on back in the 50’s.)

In due time, Dr. Max became JFK’s personal physician, running back and forth from New York to D.C. whenever the Pres’ back started acting up, or when JFK was in need of a little pick me up. Occasionally, Dr. Max even traveled with the President. On JFK’s European Tour, Dr. Max was there, lurking in the shadows with his mystical black bag of wonders, ready at a moment’s notice to feed the President’s veins via hypodermic needles filled with his magic potions.  Nobody ever really knew the exact contents of Dr. Max’s injections, for the simple reason that they were always changing, due to whatever the doctor had on hand at the time. But the type of chemicals Dr. Max was most fond of, and which were ever present in his crazy concoctions, were the amphetamine/speed drugs, as well as such stimulants as B-vitamins, steroids, enzymes, placenta, bone marrow, animal organ cells and a whole host of other mood elevators to send his patients soaring out of his fashionable Manhattan offices like modern day Greek gods and goddesses on the wings of Icarus eventually in time to burn themselves out like so many wax-winged fools.

His many rich and famous clients included the likes of Judy Garland, Truman Capote, Andy Williams, Mickey Mantle and Edward G. Robinson.Truman Capote described the sensation of one of Dr. Max’s shots as “instant euphoria. You feel like Superman. You’re flying. Ideas come at the speed of light. You go 72 hours straight without so much as a coffee break. You don’t need sleep, you don’t need nourishment. If it’s sex you’re after, you go all night. Then you crash–it’s like falling down a well, like parachuting without a parachute. You want to hold onto something and there’s nothing out there but air. You’re going running back to East 72nd Street. You’re looking for the German mosquito, the insect with the magic pinprick. He stings you, and all at once you’re soaring again.”

 Several books over the last few years–including Acid Dreams by Martin A. Lee and Bruce Shlain, Flashbacks by Timothy Leary, and A Woman Named Jackie by C. David Heymann–have all chronicled the escapades of an adventurous spirit by the name of Mary Pinchot, an artist and Washington socialite, whose husband was Cord Meyer, an agent of the CIA. Ms. Pinchot became acquainted with Timothy Leary during his Harvard days, requesting advice and samples of the good doctor’s wares so that she could “turn on” those in “high places.” Pinchot was convinced that if she could get certain prominent political leaders under the influence of acid, they would see that love is the answer to all the world’s ills, then lay down their weapons, join hands with their former enemies and go off dancing into the daisies of harmonic conversion.

Mary Pinchot, as it turns out, was yet another of Johnny-we-hardly-knew-ye’s conquests, having pierced her with the mighty sword of Came-a-lot on repeated occasions while under the influence of the drugs that Mary so graciously introduced him to. Allegedly, Jack and Mary on one stoned occasion smoked a couple joints, and when Mary started to spark a third, JFK was so bombed he told her he couldn’t handle anymore, admitting to Pinchot that if he got anymore loaded he wouldn’t be able to function effectively in the result of a National Emergency. Doomsday visions of his ol’ buddy Nikita pushing the nuke button sending Ruskie bombers Washington’s way arose in JFK’s paranoiac marijuana muddled mind, and he wisely decided to let Mary loner the final doob in the interests of National Security.

Cocaine was also among the drugs allegedly used by Kennedy, as well as LSD. This is hinted at in Flashbacks and Acid Dreams, and I have no reason to doubt that on one occasion or another JFK did in fact blaze like a cosmic adventurer into the inner spaces of his mind, his psychedelic rocket ship fueled by Orange Sunshine™, landscaping New Frontiers.  Mary Pinchot-Meyer was riddled with bullets by unknown assailants and died just one short year after her boyfriend JFK had his own head blown off in Dealey Plaza.  A mind is a terrible thing to waste.


JFK with Mary Pinchot-Meyer, far right

~ by gorightly on November 25, 2007.

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