“I know why Charles Manson did what he did. Someday, I’ll tell the world. I’ll write a book and explain why he did it.” – Dennis Wilson, 1978

On June 3rd, 1968, Dennis Wilson recorded a new track in his brother Brian’s home studio. It consists of a single verse, followed by eerie-but-beautiful wordless harmonies.

“Well I know the wind’s my hands, my hands, let it blow, let it blow…”

It sounds like the kind of thing  a cult would record more than a pop group. The only other entry for recordings that day: “Manson demos“.

Andrew Hickey took a deep dive down the Charlie and Dennis rabbit hole and summed up what is known and unknown about the recording:

The guitarist on that track, by some accounts, is Charles Manson, and the tape on which it was recorded apparently includes a take of Manson recording “Look at Your Game Girl” — a different version of the song from the one that has since been released. 

Indeed, it seems that Manson recorded a whole *album* of unreleased material in Brian Wilson’s home studio — where the Beach Boys were doing most of their own recording, and with the involvement of not just Dennis, but according to some sources Brian and Carl Wilson too. That material has never been released and will never be released, for fairly obvious reasons.

Dianne Lake recalls the casual way recording songs first came up, and what an instant difference it made to how Charlie approached his music:

One day, when Dennis and Charlie were jamming, Dennis turned to him and said, “We should record this stuff.” In an instant, Charlie’s mood shifted, and he got all excited. After that passing comment, he started to get serious about practicing and having us sing his best songs with him. 

“It’s happening. I could be bigger than the Beatles,” he said as he rehearsed one afternoon. Ridiculous as the statement was, in our eyes, it didn’t seem like he was reaching too high. After all, if you think someone is the second coming, it’s not out of the question that he might be bigger than the Beatles.

As music took on greater importance for him, we now accepted that he had a divine mission for his music to reach as many ears as possible, that his music would change the world. There was no doubt in our minds that he could achieve this goal, and working toward it made him happier than we had ever seen him.

“It’s all in the eyes of a dreamer
It’s all in the eyes of a man
All the things that we’ve done in life
And all the things that we’ve planned”
– “Eyes of a Dreamer”

What follows in Lake’s memoir comes across as a fanciful compression of multiple recording sessions and rumors into a fever dream of what Manson recording at Brian Wilson’s studio would look like.

Dennis scheduled a recording session for Charlie at his brother Brian Wilson’s house somewhere in Bel Air. Charlie brought a few of us with him in the car with Dennis. The house was a beautiful two-story place, with a state-of-the-art recording studio inside. While Charlie was jamming, he let us watch. He seemed nervous at first, which I found unnerving. Dennis told him to relax and to show the people what he had. 

We had been singing some background vocals for him, but fairly soon Charlie signaled for us to leave. He seemed to be having trouble getting into his groove. As we headed for the door I noticed that someone who I believe was Brian along with some of the others were stopping Charlie and making suggestions. Someone suggested he increase the tempo of the song. I saw the slow burn growing in his eyes. Charlie hated anyone messing with his music. We could feel the tension rising as we went outside.

“Old ego is a too much thing
– “Ego”

We ran into Mike Love, who was clearly avoiding the recording session with Charlie. We made small talk and he was polite, but <...> I got the feeling he was not happy about the recording session or the fact that Dennis was hanging out with Charlie. Having Charlie in the studio was going out on a limb, but Dennis really believed Charlie had a new sound the band could support as they tried to catch up with the new directions in the music scene. 

I moved away from Mike toward the people who seemed very comfortable partying at Brian’s house. It wasn’t a huge crowd, but I wondered if Brian knew all these people or if his house was simply open to friends and their hangers-on. One of the men invited the girls and me to go swimming. We didn’t have any bathing suits with us, so we went in without any clothes on. If the people were shocked they didn’t show it. The pool was refreshing and everyone was relaxed and doing their own thing. 

“Now they’ll show you their castles and diamonds for all to see
But they’ll never show you that peace of mind, ’cause they don’t know how to be free”
– “Home is Where You’re Happy”

While we were sunbathing by the pool, I started to hear raised voices coming from the studio and in the house, and we all sensed that something was wrong. The studio was soundproof, so the voices had to have been loud. When Charlie emerged, he was seething, muttering under his breath things like “Cocksuckers, they should leave it alone.” His pupils were dilated and his energy had completely shifted. 

The group was dispersing, and Brian and the other musicians who had been in the studio with Charlie seemed shaken. <...The> expressions on the faces I saw were a mixture of fear and bewilderment. As much as they had been involved with the drug scene, they probably hadn’t encountered a real convict like Charlie, with his hair-trigger temper.

“You get afraid you gonna, act like a clown
And you”re mad when somebody puts you down”
– “Ego”

I didn’t notice anyone else around when Charlie came outside. I was probably in the middle of talking with someone, but it didn’t matter. Someone had insulted him and he was upset. The other girls and I were all watching him, waiting to see what he would do next. 

“Get your clothes, girls,” he demanded. “We’re going.” I was already halfway out of the pool before he even said anything. I grabbed my clothes and dressed hastily as we followed Charlie to Dennis’s car. Dennis was trailing behind but wasn’t saying anything to Charlie. I am pretty sure Dennis let Charlie drive, which was probably not a good idea. I remember the smell of burnt rubber as we peeled out for at least a block on the way back to Dennis’s house.

“Your home is where you’re happy
It’s not where you’re not free”
– “Home is Where You’re Happy”

When we got to Dennis’s house, Charlie paced around knocking things over. He was muttering about how they wanted to change him and he wasn’t going to be changed. Dennis was trying to explain that they were producers and wanted to help Charlie be successful. 

 “Dig it, man, they want me to dress like you dudes. I ain’t gonna wear no threads like that. That just ain’t me!”
 “Charlie, man, they are just trying to help. They didn’t mean any insult to you.”
 “What about changing the words to my song? ‘Cease to Exist’ is ‘Cease to Exist,’ man.”

“Cease to exist
Just, come an’ say you love me”
– “Cease to Exist”

Charlie was furious. Dennis tried to reassure him that there were other options. He talked about his friend record producer Terry Melcher, Doris Day’s son, and how he might be able to keep things moving. Dennis was now dangling this connection to appease Charlie and to assure him that he shouldn’t give up hope. 

“Your stuff is good, man,” he said. “These guys don’t know you like I do.” Dennis had another acoustic guitar but didn’t give it to Charlie right away. It would have been feeding the dragon.

“The world it’s yours my friend
It’s yours to begin or to end
Oh the eyes of a dreamer
In the eyes of the man”
– “Eyes of a Dreamer”

Charlie took off that night and left us all there with Dennis. We figured Charlie might be going to Spahn Ranch to check on the other Family members still holed up there. It was difficult to relax, but we made some food and all sat around smoking pot waiting for Charlie to cool off and come back. Though we all tried to distract ourselves, sinking into the couch and watching a movie, it was hard not to feel that this marked the end of something. 

After all of Charlie’s enthusiasm for the music, his effort, the recording session, this represented a clear setback. But it was much more than that. It was one of the high points of my time with Charlie, and the highest heights must always be followed by a fall. Charlie obviously wasn’t ready to give up. Somehow, he had decided that Dennis and the others owed him something. To him, encouragement represented a promise. In his world, a promise was a contract, and he was going to collect when the time was right.

“Look out ego is a too much thing
When everything seems goin’ so fine
Old ego puts itself on a bind
Your cert’ty turns to doubt
Then you start flippin’ out
Then you ease on out of your mind”
– “Ego”

THINGS BECAME TENSE AT DENNIS’S AFTER THAT. WHETHER IT WAS BECAUSE of Charlie or the fact that Dennis was increasingly worried he would lose visitation with his kids was hard to say. But we all felt the shift—no one more than Charlie. 

For one thing, Dennis became more anxious about things and clearly was not having as much fun with us. For another, Dennis would stay away more frequently, probably with his friend Gregg Jakobson, leaving us alone in the house while he was out with other people. 

“Take nothing from nothing brother
And it’s all just the same
For the loser is the winner
And there ain’t no blame
‘Cept the end of the game”
– “Eyes of a Dreamer”

He left us there at his house and moved into a place with Gregg Jakobson. Dennis’s lease was up, but he didn’t bother kicking us out. My assumption is he wasn’t too keen on asking Charlie to leave. This way there wasn’t a lot of conflict or discussion. We helped ourselves to the things he left behind and stayed as long as we could until we were officially evicted. 

We headed back to the only place we knew had room for us, Spahn Ranch and old George Spahn. Squeaky had been keeping that door open for us. 

“So burn all your bridges
Leave your whole life behind
You can do what you want to do
‘Cause you’re strong in your mind”
– “Home Is Where You’re Happy”

Even though Dennis’s house was in no way my own, it had started to feel like home nonetheless. I’d explored every tree and knew the slopes of all the hills. The smells of the freshly mown grass and the chlorine of the pool permeated all my clothes. Life there had been a fantasy, of course, but one that I’d been eager to embrace. 

I knew returning to Spahn Ranch would be troubling because once again we would be nomads, drifting without a home, belonging everywhere and nowhere. But there really was no other option—this was the life I’d chosen.

“And anywhere you might wander
You could make that your home
And as long as you got love in your heart
You’ll never be alone”
– “Home is Where You’re Happy”

IF CHARLIE WAS DISAPPOINTED ABOUT LEAVING DENNIS’S HOUSE, HE didn’t show it. He seemed to see it more as a product of Dennis’s moving than a rift in his relationship with Dennis. Dennis left, so we had to as well—no big deal. We resumed life at the ranch as if those months with Dennis had simply been a beautiful dream, but it was hard to shake the nagging feeling that something very real had been permanently lost.

 For some reason, Charlie didn't see the move from Dennis's as the setback to his musical career that it clearly was. The con man in him for once had conned himself, making him believe that somehow great possibilities remained. 

“The moment, is ever constant in the mind
Everywhere I look the blind lead the blind
Here’s your chance to step out of time
There ain’t no reason and there ain’t no rhyme”
– “Eyes of a Dreamer”

Manson in his own words:

I don't deny disappointment at not reaching my goals as a musician. <...> I envied any successful musician and appreciated any best-selling album, but like most people, the music I felt close to was music I had heard when I was young. Sinatra, Crosby, Como and people of that era meant more to me than the Beatles, Beach Boys or any of the prominent groups in the 60s.

In the desert, the music I was most interested in was my own, since I knew that would interest the studio people most. After two months in the desert, the drive into L.A. was enjoyable. My head was full of things to lay on Dennis, or anyone else, to convince him that we were ready to record. I had written several new songs, a couple of which I considered near masterpieces, and I was eager to have a professional listen to them.

My first disappointment came when Dennis wasn't in town. But Jakobson lifted my spirits some by saying, "Damn, Charlie, it's good to hear from you. I've been intending to get out to the desert to talk to you. Dennis and I been talking you up to some of the studios and there are a couple that are interested in hearing you play. Trouble is, you living out of town the way you do makes it hard to get in touch. Why not stay close for a while, and when Dennis gets back, we'll get something going." 

It sounded great. Now that it was December, when the high desert where we were living gets cold, a temporary move back into town would be good for all of us. Of course, we still had people at Spahn, mostly girls who spelled each other looking after George. But things at Spahn were too disorganized for us to do any serious rehearsing. Finding a place that would accommodate fifteen or twenty kids wasn't an easy task. 

I finally found a house on Gresham Street in Canoga Park. It sat on about an acre of ground, had four bedrooms, two baths, a big kitchen and a large front room that made a great studio for our music sessions. It was only about a thirty-minute drive from Hollywood, and only a few miles from Spahn's, which was a convenience in itself. Because of its bright yellow paint, we called the place the "Yellow Submarine." For all the ups and downs we had there, we should have named it "Roller-coaster."

The ups began with Dennis' return. He and Jakobson immediately came over and paid us a visit. After hearing us play, they were enthused about the new music and how far we had progressed. One of the songs they liked best was, “Look At Your Game, Girl." Dennis, Jakobson and Melcher scheduled two recording sessions, the first at a studio in Westwood Village. About fifteen of us invaded the place.

Right away the guy who ran the studio started telling us what we could and couldn't do, where to sit, where to stand and which way to face, even how to hold the microphone. We started out doing as he said, but the girls wanted to be looking at me while doing their background vocals. When they started moving away from where he had placed them, he came unglued. 

We made two or three more starts, each ending up worse than the first as far as the guy was concerned. In the end, the whole scene was a repeat of my first session with Universal. They didn't want us to perform as I felt we should. Between the studio manager telling us to get out and us telling him to get fucked, that session was a bust.

Later, Dennis tried to pull my coat, saying, "Look, Charlie, those guys who handle a studio know what they're doing. They know the best effect for sound separation, how to run everything together. So when you're doing a session, do it their way. Hell, man, even our group follows their advice." I said next time I'd do it their way.

The next time was at Dennis' brother's home studio, which was larger than a lot of the commercial studios. This time we did a pretty fair session, putting down about ten songs. But getting some money out of it and getting us on the market was still going to take some time.

“The way out of a room is not through the door”

Christian Lorentzen, in The London Review of Books, wrote:

Stardom, he told <the members of the Family>, would be the way to share his teachings and their love with the world. It was a dream that kept them motivated when it was hard to find food, when there was no place to shower, when they had to sleep in the bus or with strangers, or when Manson imposed discipline by pulling their hair or hitting them. They had hope.

The first opportunity was <in 1967> with Gary Stromberg of Universal Music. Manson had his number from <Phil Kaufman,> a fellow inmate. Stromberg booked a three-hour studio session for him: ‘an unmitigated disaster’, according to <Manson: the life and times of Charles Manson author Jeff> Guinn. ‘I ain’t used to a lot of people,’ Manson said. But Stromberg liked him, and was impressed with the way he could order the women around. <....> Stromberg told him to work harder on his songs.

Manson recalled meeting Stromberg in 1967:

The first meeting with him wasn't a session, but more to get acquainted. I was impressed by his position at the studio, and by the time he heard me play some music, he was so impressed with me he arranged for a full-fledged recording session. 

 After the recording session, our new-found supporter thought we could get something on the market immediately, but he was not the final voice. Others at Universal thought more work and arranging was needed before recording for the market. I was not disappointed, since my initial session had shown a lot of promise and there was a standing offer from Universal for another shot when I "rounded things out more solid." 

What follows is my attempt to make sense of the various recording sessions Manson is said to have had.

1967, September 11, Uni Studios

At this point, I’ll turn to the sleuths at the Manson Family Blog to try and help us sort this whole timeline out in David’s post “The Manson Sessions”:

Manson <recorded> 'Sick City' at this session and the songs recorded here form the basis of the 'Unplugged' and 'Summer of Hate '67' and 'All the Way Live' CDs. Manson is clearly nervous but the music has a few good moments. Manson doesn't play complete songs on several occasions during the recordings, which may explain why this didn't go anywhere. 

Commenter J. Pinnnacle added:

First, I agree that the UNi Records/Stromberg sessions are what's heard on the Psychedelic Soul release, and that the man in the booth is most likely Stromberg. Sep. 11, 1967 seems to be the confirmed date for that.

Interestingly, if you listen to the version of "Look at Your Game, Girl" from those sessions, the song is missing its chorus. This would indicate to me that Charlie had yet to complete the song at this point, and as such the earlier June 1967 date attributed to the more commonly heard version of "Game" would have to be incorrect.

Likewise, "Eyes of a Dreamer" was also supposedly from the June '67 session according to Wiki. But in Paul Watkins' book, he mentions Charlie singing "a song he'd just written" to him shortly after he and Charlie returned to Spahn's in February of '69. The song was "Eyes of a Dreamer", which Watkins goes on to call "a fast moving ballad... one we would later record on our album".

The fact that we have a nascent version of "Game" dating from September of '67, as well as Watkins' statement (and his timeline as written in his book seems quite accurate otherwise) that "Game" was a brand new song as of February '69, makes me highly suspicious that either song was cut as early as June 1967. Unless someone can prove Charlie was even in L.A. that June, my theory is that somebody pulled that date out of their ass, and that Manson was not in a recording studio prior to the September 11 Stromberg session.

1968, June 3rd: Brian Wilson’s studio

Dianne Lake’s timeline would seem to line up with this date, which is what is recorded in the exhaustive records of Bellagio 10452.

David at Manson Fam blog says this, which would seem to point to released recordings coming from the Stromberg sessions:

A source I don’t trust claims the original ‘Lie’ album sleeve notes say ‘Look At Your Game Girl’ and ‘Eyes of a Dreamer’ were recorded during <1967 Uni> sessions. If you have the album you can verify this. I have not been able to corroborate it. By the release of that album the same source says the tapes had disappeared and Kaufman took the songs from a 45 rpm record credited to ‘Silverhawk’. I found no reference to 'Silverhawk' as a label or a recording studio. 

Commenter Lurch gets the name right, which helps confirm the 45’s existence:

I've heard that Dr. Demento actually has a Siverhorn single.
There's some info as well as a pic of the label in the updated version of The Manson File.

Unknown commenter then adds the real juice:

I can tell you for a fact that Charlie recorded the Silverhorn 45 with Phil at Brian's house in 1968. This 45 was only put out to a couple of people. The one copy that I thought to exist was in the hands of Dr. Demento as stated above. I spoke with (Barrett) aka Dr. Demento about this release in 2015, he had indicated that he got rid of his copy in 2013 to an undisclosed source. 

This is the ONLY copy of this 45 that I know to exist. Attempts were made to discuss with Phil, but to no avail due to his health situation. The Silverhorn single was indeed confirmed by Charles in 2013 and was also confirmed that this was recorded in 1968 at Brian Wilson's home studio.

Given what engineer Stephen Desper has to say about 1969, along with Charlie’s and Paul’s recollections about when these songs were first shared with Dennis as “new” ca. New Years Day 1969, I have to wonder if Charlie confirmed the location and the year, or just the location….

Interestingly enough, Lynette Fromme recalls a trip to Brian’s place in ’68 that mentions Dennis showing Charlie Brian’s studio, and the girls hanging out by the pool, but nothing about recording there that day. It makes me almost wonder if when, Charlie himself is talking about the music room at Dennis’s place, he was actually talking about this trip to Brian’s studio…

Back in Bel Air, Dennis took us to Brian's home to swim and see his recording studio. It didn't seem to matter where we were; wives or girlfriends came to pull their guys away. I hadn't seen anything like it since high school. It was more than that our clothes didn't come from exclusive Wilshire or Rodeo Drive clothiers, or that we looked too young or too many or too much alike. 

1968, August 8th: Goldstar Studios

“David”, ManFamBlog:

Most sources say most of the 'Lie' album was recorded at Gold Star Studios on August 8, 1968, one year prior to the murders at Cielo Drive.
In his interview with Aaron Stovitz on January 27, 1970 (one of the worst witness interviews I have ever heard) Kaufman explains that ‘the girls’ approached him regarding the album and brought him some tapes. It is probable these are the tapes.

This comment from Chris Till takes things in a whole different direction:

There is a YouTube video of the great L.A. session guitarist Jerry Cole discussing sessions he did of Manson's music. Melcher hired Cole (as well as other Wrecking Crew session players like Hal Blaine, as I recall) to record the musical backing of a handful of Manson songs. After the music was done, Manson added his vocals

Comment from J Pinnacle:

The 08/08/68 Gold Star session is an interesting one. Gold Star, as stated, was a world-class facility favored by Phil Spector, the Beach Boys, the Buffalo Springfield and most of the other top Hollywood bands of the era. As such, I'm going to guess that this was the session Jerry Cole recounted in his interview that utilized the "Wrecking Crew" studio musicians, and where Charlie simply added his vocals over their backing tracks, as was common at the time.

1969 Sound City Studios

From what everyone else has to say, this is probably the full family session that Manson describes falling apart and telling the studio technicians to “get fucked.” Here’s David, at MFB sorting out the timeline:

Manson recorded here sometime after April 1969 in Studio B. Sound City’s Facebook page acknowledges that Manson recorded there <...>
“Dennis [Wilson] was the person with the acquaintance with the Manson family-- in a way responsible for Charlie's demos being done at Sound City, sometime in 1968.”

The problem with that timing (1968) is that, according to their own website and the California Corporate Division, Sound City didn't exist until April 1969. <...> The date Manson recorded here is unknown. I believe it was in the spring of 1969 as part of Jakobson's efforts to record him during that window. 

J Pinnacle adds this juicy bit from Family member Paul Watkins’ memoir:

There's at least one relevant quote <...from> Watkins on the Sound City session: "once again we took our group to a studio for a recording session in the valley, but things fell apart; Charlie got pissed off at the technicians and we split."

Later he makes this observation:

"Ego" and "Mechanical Man" seem to be the only ones to feature the entire Family, including Brooks on sitar and Gypsy on violin. I'm guessing these are from Sound City.

Meanwhile, Tex Watson had this to say:

After two trips north and countless hassles, we finally brought the bus back down to Spahn, picking up hitchhikers all along the way. <...>  When we got back there was big news: Charlie had actually managed to talk Gregg Jakobson into arranging a one-day recording session for him at a little studio in the Valley. At last Charlie would get his chance, the destiny that was rightfully his.

The whole Family went down together for the taping and we brought all our instruments with us guitars, drums, tams. We gathered around the mikes at Charlie's feet, singing with him just like we did in the evenings after dinner. "Cease to exist," we all sang. "Cease to exist, come say you love me." We knew we were part of something bigger than any album ever cut, bigger than Dennis Wilson and his overage Beach Boys had ever been, bigger even than the Beatles themselves, because this was more than just music.

Spring 1969, Wilder Brothers Studio, Santa Monica

MFB:

According to his trial testimony Gregg Jakobson began recording Manson fairly extensively in the Spring of 1969.

Q (Fitzgerald): Did you ever actually record any of the music?
A. Yes.
Q: In a studio?
A Yes.
Q: On more than one occasion?
A Yes.
<....>
Q. When?
A. This would have been in the Spring of 1969.

For Jakobson’s most detailed recollections, the best place to look is this Rolling Stone article from 1970, where he writes under the pseudonym “Lance Fairweather:

"Sometime later I started recording Charlie at a little studio here called Wilder Studio. And the owner George Wilder, was leery of Charlie because he knew Charlie was an ex-con, and because Charlie to a straight person is sort of a wild looking guy-his eyes, his hair, his movements and everything. So he was a little leery of Charlie and he kept bugging me saying, 'Listen, this guy is an ex-com. I don't know what he's going to do. He might flip out or beat me up or something. And what about my money.'

So Charlie turned to him and said, 'Aw, don't worry about your money. You can have all these guitars.' And Wilder, dumbfounded, said, 'Wait a minute. What does he mean I can have all these guitars?' It really blew his mind. Charlie just walked out, saying, 'You can have 'em man.' He was bugged. He left him two or three amplifiers, two electric guitars, and acoustic guitar and some other instruments."

Commenter/author Simon Wells had this juicy bit to add:

Excellent piece. This is from an email Bobby Beausoleil sent to me while I was researching "Coming Down Fast". I hope it's of interest.

"I did one session with Charlie, just he and I, at a small studio in Santa Monica in the spring of ‘69. The studio time was arranged with the help of Gregg Jakobson. This was the best one of them all – just Charlie and his acoustic, with me accompanying him on electric guitar."

J Pinnacle tries to make sense if any of these tracks are amongst those released on the “LIE” album:

"Cease to Exist", "Don't Do Anything Illegal", "Arkansas" and "Garbage Dump" feature just Charlie playing electric rhythm guitar alongside Bobby's signature lead guitar noodling. I'd almost certainly think these were the Wilder Brother sessions Beausoliel describes, except that there is also a female backing vocals ensemble present. Also complicating matters is the fact that I detect the presence of reverb on Charlie's vocals on the first two tracks, while the second two are recorded "dry". I don't know if I can make a judgement here. These could have been cut by Charlie and Bobby at Wilder Brothers and the backing vocals overdubbed at a later date, or maybe what Bobby meant by his quote is that it was just he and Charlie instrumentally.

1969: Brian Wilson’s Studio 

“Lance Fairweather”

And then in January or February of 1969, eight or nine months after I met him, we started recording him. Charlie was living at the ranch at that time, and Dennis and I fooled around recording him over at Brian Wilson’s house. As you know, Brian has this studio in his house. But Charlie couldn’t make it with those people. They’re too stiff for him.

The Manson Fam Blog then dug up Stephen Desper’s lengthy posts on Smileysmile.net, which push that timeline even closer to the murders:

Stephen Desper is a recording engineer who worked extensively with the Beach Boys. During the summer of 1969 Desper received a call from Beach Boys management telling him that Dennis Wilson wanted him to record Manson. Desper set up a series of nighttime sessions with Manson (and a few of the girls). The mythology that has grown up around these sessions claims that Manson pulled a knife on Desper and threatened him but Desper actually terminated the sessions for a different reason. 

Desper recalled:

“A day or two before Charlie came to Brian's house studio, I received a call from management (i.e. [Nick] Grillo) that a friend of Dennis' would be coming to the studio such-and-such a night for a recording session that Dennis wanted arranged<...> It was to be a demo session of singing and guitar playing by this guy Charlie Manson. Dennis would not be there. Brian was out and Carl had no interest. It was Charles, myself and several tag-along girls.

Actually there were several late-nite sessions until I finally refused to record him further. I can handle almost any artist's idiosyncrasies, of which Charlie had many, but it was the smell of this un-kept and un-washed human that I had to sit next to at the console that I could not or rather did not wish to endure any longer. 

Why the hell any girl would want to have sex with a person with BO is beyond me, but still there were three or four young ones waiting every night out in the studio to just get the chance; his so-called "family." Charles Manson was Dennis' Brother Records project. No other Beach Boy was interested. At the very least they agreed to give Dennis the studio for a couple of demo sessions -- and then the plan was to listen to what got recorded and see if Dennis' friend was worth a chance on the BRI label.

I have often wondered how much my canceling of the demo sessions played in the subsequent unfoldment of events in the following weeks, as Charles has said his motive for revenge was primed from his belief that his talents were not appreciated by the label -- although he was not that talented and certainly not ready for the recording scene ... as I reported back to management. But then, one can play the "what if" game about any event, and it proves nothing.

Desper then drops the bomb that upends the whole narrative of when Dennis and Manson were on the outs:

“Please keep in mind as you read all this, that it happened a couple of weeks BEFORE the "event."  So to me he was this creepy guy I was to record playing his guitar and singing some original songs. I treated Charlie with the same respect as anyone recording in the studio, but he started out a little pushy, or maybe that's how it impressed me.

In hind sight I'd say he just had a problem with authority. At first it was, "I'm going to do this and you record me," whereas after the first playback it became more like, "what do I do now so you can make a better recording." That is, he realized that I was running the session, not him -- that he was out of his league in the studio environment and had best trust an expert if he wanted the end product to reflect his best side. Once that was established he did fairly well as an artist and things moved along. 

“From my perspective, here was a single artist playing a single instrument, and I had eight tracks to capture whatever I wanted. So of course, record the guitar in stereo and the vocal with two mics. That's four tracks. I could have the artist add a bass or overdub. That never happened.

But anyway... Charlie's envision of recording was him in front of a mic. When confronted with four microphones and baffles, he was overwhelmed. He had to sit, or try to stay somewhat in the center between the two mics. His vocal screen had two mics behind it, each with their own track. This would give me two different microphone signatures to blend for a final sound. 

I was in and out of the studio making adjustments and complaining to him to sit still. He was constantly standing up and being fidgety. I would just get it all adjusted and he would move out of his seat. Finally I told him that if he wanted a successful demo recording he was going to need to settle down and listen to me. I was on his side. Just follow my instructions and play real good. The rest, I'll take care of and make him sound great. Give me your best, and I'll give you mine. So after a while he settled into the whole recording scene and we did get some good tracks.

I recorded Charles Manson playing several songs during the course of a few days. Those tapes were placed on the tape shelf located under the monitors. During the next few weeks and to my knowledge no one ever requested to hear them. They asked me what I thought of him as a potential talent for the label, but then time ran out. 

That is to say, before the tapes were ever reviewed by anyone, the murders happened and the tapes were locked away. Even Dennis never asked about the tapes, only to inquire if he showed up for the sessions. Dennis wanted to be certain that his friend had been able to make the demo recordings, which was what he told Charlie he would arrange for him.

You see, Manson was very unaware of how these things work. He thought that he would record the demo, then the next day everyone would listen and a contract would be pushed under his nose. In practice, these things may take months to pan out.  

“Undoubtedly Dennis and Charlie talked, but their understandings meant nothing in the music business. They were both lawyers & contracts away from anything meaningful.” <...> If Manson would have exhibited more patience with the situation, eventually someone would hear the demo and make a judgement. Maybe they would buy a song or two. Who knows.”

To my knowledge <the tapes> are still in the vault where I was told to place them the day the story broke of the Manson murders. However things in the vault seem to come and go.”

Desper summed up his impressions of Manson:

People who exhibit "animal magnetism" to such a high degree are a rare find. I was fascinated by this aspect of Manson. This along with his coercing use of half-truths, cleverly constructed to make his point seem logical was, to this engineer and scientist, a curiosity that made him an intriguing character.  I could see how his personality and speech might easily endure him to an uneducated young person.

In the end, Desper had a pretty good read on what Manson was, and figured Dennis’s brothers and cousin did, too.

 I think Brian, Carl and Mike saw right through Charlie's shroud of self-proclaimed truism, but also realized he was just a means by which Dennis could find easy sex with many young girls, and so indulged Dennis' use of the studio as a way of staying on his pimp's good side.”

J Pinnacle had this insightful thought to contribute to Desper’s recollections:

The Brian Wilson home studio session is likely from summer 1969 as well. Apart from engineer Stephen Desper's comments<.....>, there is another clue here: Desper vividly describes "the smell of this un-kept and un-washed human".
Watkins again: "People have been led to believe that the Manson Family was 'dirty and unkempt,' but this was not the case. Up until the summer of 1969, Charlie demanded good personal hygiene, and that clothes, food, musical instruments – everything – be kept orderly. But living at Spahn’s like commandos made it impossible to maintain these standards."

So it seems very likely to me that, had this session occurred in summer of '68 while Charlie had been living at Dennis's and had access to showers and a swimming pool, he would not be unkempt and unwashed upon entering a recording studio where he was trying to make a positive impression.

He then throws down on the “their definitely may have been multiple sessions at Brian Wilson’s studio” bet.

However, I'd put forth the possibility that the Desper-engineered session in 1969, *might* not have been the only session that took place at Brian Wilson's home studio. Here's Watkins one more time, describing his impressions of Dennis Wilson upon meeting him in August of '68:
"Because Dennis liked Charlie's music, he was willing to help him and arranged for the Family to hold recording sessions in his brother Brian's Beverly Hills studio."

Later, while the Family is staying in Canoga Park: "Through Dennis and Greg we lined up recording sessions at Brian Wilson’s studio. But none of them went well."
Notice the use of the plural "sessions", as well as the mention of "we" and "the Family" recording, as opposed to just Charlie solo as Desper described. Could there have been earlier sessions recorded at Brian's studio without Desper's involvement? I believe it's certainly conceivable given this quote.

For over 55 years now the official word has always been Nothing the Manson Family recorded in Brian Wilson’s studio has ever been released, and nothing ever will be. The more I mull all this information over, the less I find that likely to be true. If I were a betting man I’d put good money on the two “June 1967” tracks as June 1968 tracks. But… I’d also hedge my bet on them being from Desper’s 1969 sessions. Was it possible that the two songs on the Silverhorn single were mixdowns from Brian’s studio done in 1969? 

Discogs lists the single as having a 1970 release, so if that is true, then there’s a real possibilty these recordings came from 1969. Despite the poor quality of the release, it does sound to be as well recorded as Desper says his sessions were. “Look At Your  Game Girl” is also the one track other than the two short Uni songs that is simply Charlie and his guitar performing, as Desper describes.

“Eyes of a Dreamer” is the real outlier; it has a lead guitar part played on a nylon string guitar, just like Charlie’s rhythm guitar. Did he actually do an overdub? Beasoleil claims he played electric leads with Charlie, so it wouldn’t seem to be from the duo sessions they did with Jakobson….

I don’t know how much time I want to spend listening to this creepy, mind-warping music to compare lead guitar styles, but at a few listens it sounds possible that it is him on lead, but….? If it’s Manson, that’s some better than decent leads he’s laying down…

To be continued…

Meanwhile… a rumor has persisted that Manson once told his parole officer he was going on tour with The Beach Boys to get permission to travel.

Tom O’Neil tracked down the band’s old tour manager to interview him for his exhaustive and infuriatingly inconclusive (and often uncorroborated) CHAOS: Charles Manson, The CIA, And The Secret History Of The Sixties: 

As one of the biggest bands in the world, the Beach Boys employed a retinue of managers, roadies, engineers, and gofers-I wondered if any of them had any thoughts on Wilson and Melcher, or if they could fill in some blanks for me. (The band's surviving members had all declined to speak to me.) I got in touch with John Parks, who'd been the band's tour manager when Manson and the Family lived at Wilson's place. 

 "Terry  recorded him while we were on a fairly long tour," Parks told me. That was something else Melcher had expressly denied on the stand, something hidden for all these decades. Bugliosi repeated it in his closing statement: "He did not record Manson." 

When Melcher moved to end his professional relationship with Manson, things took a dark turn. As Parks remembered it, Manson began calling Melcher and unloading on him, making death threats against him "to everybody he saw"; he was "yelling about it and stuff." Parks could certainly understand, he said, how those threats could've influenced Melcher's decision to move out of the Cielo house so suddenly.

Steve Despar, the Beach Boys' recording engineer, remembered the ordeal that Manson had put him through during the recording sessions, when he'd show up with "about twelve girls, many underage, quiet, in a stupor." The group smelled so foul that the studio's management, at the behest of Brian Wilson's wife, soon "installed a sanitary bathroom seat."

After three sessions, Despar was fed up. He called the Beach Boys manager and said, "I refuse to be alone with him. The guy is psychotic and scares the hell out of me." Despar emphasized, "He was after Melcher... Melcher was not out of the picture at this point. He was part of the project. When I was recording Charles Manson, it was for Dennis *and* Melcher."

1. Would this be Village Recorders? That’s a whole ‘nother possibility I haven’t seen addressed elsewhere, but considering they opened in Westwood in 1968… ↩︎