Roberto Apodaca Part II

Our Lady of the Tryptamines

After my initial bust, and spending time incarcerated, I could only connect with Roberto intermittently for several months. Still, we got together when I was let out on weekends, or my time was served for the various probation infractions that I seemed to incur.

By this point we had started exploring LSD to a much greater extent and our sessions always ended up with us playing the word games and stretching our minds until we were rolling on the floor giggling over the shared nonsense such as: "How does a dolphin fly?" "By exiting out of the left door". We could sit for hours throwing these ideas back and forth.

Eventually Anna went back to Germany, leaving Roberto to fend on his own. It had been a long time coming. He seemed to be hyper-attractive to women, and he succumbed quite readily it seemed.

Time flew, the late spring of 1967 appeared, and it looked like we were on the edge of huge changes. Possibilities loomed on so many fronts…

Great music was rolling out, and Owsley’s “White Lightening” made its appearance. The streets were blazing with Acid. It was absolutely everywhere. At this point I was seeing a sweet young woman, Polly, a few years older than I. She asked me if I would guide one of her friends on their first Acid excursion. I agreed of course.

“Richie” Polly’s friend showed up the next weekend, early on Saturday. We talked about Acid, the length of time, what possibly to expect etc. After a long discussion…We dosed.

About a half hour in, there is a knock at the door. I go to answer it, and there is Roberto beaming. I let him in. (A bit of info: As I was still on probation, I was staying at my mother’s house, up on 17th & Garfield, across from Denver City Park. I had the basement, which had a large oriental carpeted main room with pillows tapestries (art nouveau from the secondhand store, if I only had understood what I had… and a bedroom. The basement had a separate entrance. This is where we were all gathered.)

17th & Garfield, Basement Door at the right...

After a few minutes of conversation, Roberto pulls out a lid of grass… “Acapulco Gold” he proudly announced. This was the first time I had ever seen Acapulco Gold, and as we sat, getting higher by the minute, Roberto rolled up several joints. Richie, sitting there seemed pretty happy. Roberto fired up a joint, we passed it around. In a few minutes, we did another, then another…

As we carried on, Roberto & I started up the silly-gism game, it grew and grew, as we went along. Richie sat there, watching us. Roberto was in top form. He was flying with it, and I as the Acid came on stronger, tried to keep up.

We were into the Trip about 1 1/2 hours, peaking when in a very quiet whisper… Richie said “What’s going on? Who am I?” Roberto & I looked at each other, then turned to look at Richie. He was slowly collapsing down into a fetal position. Roberto got up, said “Time to go!!!” and left me with holding the bag, so to speak. Ah…. Fuck.

What ensued over the next couple of hours was one of those life lessons. Always, always be attentive to those you are guiding, counseling. During the next couple of hours, I read to him out of The Tibetan Book of the Dead (No Joy, more panic) I fixed him some tea (that worked for a bit) He wanted to go outside, I said, “Sit on the porch?” He agreed.

We went upstairs, through the house, out to the porch… we sat for a minute, and then he got up and started to walk towards 17th rapidly looking over at Denver City Park. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing??” “I can walk across the road to the park…” “What about the cars, you’ll get hit.” “No, my atoms will displace, and I’ll be safe.”

As he started to step out towards the street into oncoming traffic, I pulled him to the ground and sat on him. I wouldn’t let him get up until he agreed to come up to the porch, and or inside the house. Eventually, he agreed. We sat for a while in the basement, with me playing an Ali Akbar Khan raga, (an evening one, calming) which helped immensely. We settled into the trip, with the occasional small panic moment from Richie.

The afternoon wore on. Eventually, my mother came home. I apprised her of the situation. (Background: my mother, was at this time a metaphysical student, aligned with the Alice Bailey school of thought, with a bit of Blavatsky thrown in. After divorcing my father, she went full tilt into the metaphysics of the day.) She sat down with us and asked what we were experiencing. I explained the visuals, and the inner stuff going on. Richie chimed in, and he became enthusiastic with what was transpiring. She (my mother) had been hostile to my Acid fueled excursions. “What you are describing what sounds like my meditations!” She exclaimed. So, as the sun rolled down in the west there was a healing, totally unforeseen that occurred. We ended up with dinner, Richie spent the night, thanked us and departed the next morning.

I thought long and hard about the trip with Richie. It was a lesson that I never have forgotten. be attentive to those in your care, always. It is not about you, you are there to facilitate. I have applied that lesson ever since.

This was just a couple of weeks before Sgt Pepper’s was released, and Country Joe & The Fishes first album as well. (Released the same week if I recall.) Everything accelerated. By mid-June, rather than being incarcerated in Juvenile Prison as promised by my probation officer & juvenile court, I was released off of probation to move to California. I was in and out of Colorado on various trips for quite a while after… (more on that another time). Roberto and I connected infrequently when I was in Denver, but it was always a treat to see him.

At the end of December, I decided to fly into Colorado from L.A. to see friends. At this point of my life, I had settled into exploring the Occult, with a bit of psychedelics thrown into the mix. Roberto wasn’t in Denver; he had gone to Mexico to visit family. I proceeded up to Boulder to hang with acquaintances. While there, I got caught up in yet another drug bust.

I will talk on this later, but here is part of it… I had an address book with some very interesting symbols adjacent to names… I was informed by the Boulder Police that the DEA wanted to talk to me about the book. At that point I knew I had to leave. I was being housed at the Boulder Juvenile Facility, a house with heavily screened windows, and strong reenforced doors. Being allowed visitors, friends came by and told me they were leaving for California, and they would wait for me up the street. After they left, I managed to escape by breaking down the back door by kicking it in. I ran 3 blocks, jumped into their car, leaving for California, where I changed my name, until I turned 21…

In the Spring of 1969, I received a letter from a friend in Denver. The news inside was like a blow to the stomach, I had to sit down… Roberto had been murdered by the Denver Police. He was stopped on 17th Avenue, 2 blocks from the Folk Lore Center to be searched for drugs. In a panic, he ran away up the street. As he ran, he was shot in the back. The officer walked up to him as he was struggling and emptied out his revolver into Roberto. He had 1 tab of Acid on him. I believe that the killing was in part due to him being Indian and being a hippie as well. Of course, no charges were ever filed against the policeman who killed Roberto.

Roberto has stayed in my heart all of these years. His kindness, and friendship were pivotal in my young life. His way of thinking, humour, and joy in living touched me deeply.

This entry is to witness Roberto Apodoca’s life, his gifts and his brief time in this life. He still lives if I remember him and share his story.

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm