| “Well, being a hospital corpsman, Jim knew a lot about drugs. He introduced me to that book The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.” “Ahhh, a hippie in the Navy,” said Dr. Carnes. “I hope to God he wasn’t on LSD when he was treating patients.” “No,” I said. “I wouldn’t think so, no. But he didn’t give me drugs. He found out I was taking amphetamines so he advised me on getting proper nutrition, and drinking Instant Breakfast and orange juice, ’cause, you know, the amphetamines were diet pills, and I was losing too much weight. Well, one time he did give me a couple of Valium. He said it seemed prudent at the time.” “I'm sure it was. Where did you get the diet pills?” “Off base. In Spain, they had some excellent diet pills you could buy right over the counter, no prescription, and they were top-class amphetamines. Man, they were great! Anfetamina!” “That’s one way to learn Spanish,” said the shrink. “The Navy told us not to buy them or bring them onto the base,” I continued. “They were legal for Spanish citizens but not us. But most of the druggists didn’t ask questions. Just walk in and say, ‘Una botella de stil-dos, por favor’ and unless you looked like a speed freak, they’d sell it to you.” “Stil-dos?” asked Dr. Carnes. “Stil-Two?” Yeah, they were called Stil-2’s. Stil-dos.” “And they sold them to you?” “Oh, yeah, at first,” I said. “After a while the druggist laughed and said, usted es demasiado flaco, un esqueleto! You’re too thin! A skeleton!” “So what did you do, then?” “I got this friend of mine, Buddy Beckler, to go in and buy them. He was a beefy guy, kind of fat, spoke Spanish better than me. He never had any problem getting them. He used them, too, once in a while.” “And Jim the Cor’man?” “Oh, he was a firm believer in modern medicine. The thing is, hash was so cheap over there.” "I hate to stymie your enthusiasm for mind expansion," said the psychiatrist, "But let's get back to your obsession with the number four." |
| Camping out on a beach in Algeciras, Spain under the black star-cluttered fabric of night. Jim the Cor’man, Buddy Beckler, and I looked out in awe at the mystical, mythical ocean, where the dark silhouette of the Rock of Gibraltar sat covered with its own stars, which were really lights from windows of houses, hotels, offices, or restaurants — distant civilization. A song by WAR called Four Cornered Room zoomed and whooshed and wailed from our battery-powered cassette tape player, blended with the wind and circled our heads with profound transcendence, while Jim passed his pipe around. Our scalps tingled as the ocean-as-biggest- thing-in-the-world swelled outside and inside us, DNA swimming through an electric womb sea. That night, Jim the Cor’man suggested I read the Sherlock Holmes book. When he said the title of the book was The Sign of the Four, it blew me away. Again with the number four! How can I not be obsessed with the number four? |
| Rota, Spain - 1973 |
| Bill Ectric in Rota - 1973 |
| We took a ferry boat from Spain to Morocco |
| "Cor'man Jim" in Algeciras, Spain |
| Bill, minutes before boarding the ferry |
Right: Photo
of Bill Ectric
in Spain,
1974,
by Gegory
Skillman
of Bill Ectric
in Spain,
1974,
by Gegory
Skillman
