Why Don't You Montauk?

My rock collection grows slowly over time

The Stones launched their second North American tour in Montreal in 1965. I had just turned 14. It was Easter Vacation. At my mother's invitation, Mick came to our house the day of that first concert on April 23. He was wearing a brown corduroy jacket and was very neat and polite. My mother said why dont you go down into the basement to talk? We went downstairs. He stood by the door to the garage. I was leaning against the ping-pong table opposite the piano. He said.......I said..........

Then everything went blank for 50 years.

Montreal had been the jazz capital of Canada but it was not the place for the Stones to explode into the band they would become. There was too much anti- British sentiment simmering in Quebec. But the London-based Tavistock Institute was the brains behind McGill’s MKULTRA program and they promoted rock and roll as mass mind control. The Stones needed to escape that stifling architecture. They did it by taking rock and roll to a whole new level of Dionysian spectacle. But first they dived deep into Blues.

Chicago was about music. Black music. They put down roots in Chicago and escaped the psych ward where Mick found his first “job” as a teenager. Mick’s early songs show the influence of Psychiatry and Psychoanalysis on his writing. I believe he was a Tavistock subject, as was Marianne Faithfull who attended an elite progressive school and introduced him to Russian literature - which led to his Sympathy for the Devil phase and the film For My Demon Brother with Kenneth Anger (which Andrew Loog Oldham produced.) England was the place to absorb “Satanic” cult doctrine - the English invented Satanism.

Montreal is also an esoteric hub. Mick would come back to Montreal but the shows were often catastrophic. In 1966 the stage collapsed. In 1972 the equipment truck blew up. The closest I got was reading about it the next day in the paper.

I had other fish to fry. Women’s Liberation and all that. I was not attracted to the Glimmer Twins or their decadence and to me the Stones were ageing symbols of spiritual annihilation, past their due date by the time I reached 21, the age when I might have gone looking for Mick if I hadnt been brainwashed not to remember him.

At 14 they had wiped my memory so I had no recollection of young Mike, the boy from England. My whole family was being controlled by the psychiatrists at McGill who even tried to poison my father. My mother became an invalid under the care of the same medical gang. The Stones song Family is a pretty accurate portrait of us in 1967, insectoids and all.

I would not want to have met Mick and Keith in 1973 when they were both strung out on cocaine. And definitely not in their Black & Blue period, with the dangling female billboard model promoting S&M. Their next stop would be Montauk on Long Island, scene of horrific military mind control and torture under the umbrella of the Space Program. Had I been there as a Cameron kid during our missing month on Lake Champlain in 1960, before my father rebelled, and was forced to retire? There are childhood memories I may never recover.

I wonder what the real story is with Andy Warhol in 1976, when the Stones stayed at Montauk and Mick rented Warhol’s house near the Point? How did he come to slash his wrist, the wound documented in a photo session with Annie Liebowicz? I wasn’t following that scene, and didnt really care what the Stones did with their fame and glamor. It was as if I had never danced to their music, or drooled over Mick with the girls in Eighth grade. With Satisfaction in 1965 they had hit the big time and I disconnected from them emotionally. When you’re a girl, emotions are everything.

What kind of supersoldier programming did they go through at Montauk in the mid seventies that turned them into drug-driven dynamos on stage? I now think endurance training and extreme torture beginning in childhood created the rock stars and stadium culture borrowed from Nazi Germany by the same British shrinks who timed the Stones’ first AM radio release on June 7, 1963, anniversary of the invasion of Normandy. It was the start of the Electronic Invasion.

Prove me wrong. Watch one of those concerts on video. By 1972 they were avatars for transhumanism and the takeover of humanity by an international Cult network with tentacles in military, government and media.

But somehow I missed all that, living in Quebec with Beau Dommage and Robert Charlebois. I came late to the show, and only after it dawned that I was the inspiration for Voodoo Lounge.

I find the Stones’s 60-year catalog is worth examining in retrospect even if you didnt follow them around like a stoned puppy. I liked them pre-Satisfaction and then I liked them just before and after Altamont. And then I lost interest when they produced Exile on Main Street - which I listened to 30 years later and of course loved. Jagger disappeared from my radar then reappeared in 1987 all grown up, and from then on he often showed up in my dreams holding forth on many topics. I take this slow response time to mean I wasn’t meant to meet him in this lifetime. “We are worlds apart” never “sweethearts together”. But looking back I think he knew my family and later he knew some people I was acquainted with. Our circles intersected but only peripherally. I think he remembered me while I only knew him as a rock star.

I think he lived out the Tavistock programming- and you can follow along if you listen to the songs. Gender issues, money and relationship problems. Violence. Lingering guilt. He has a big heart but is also incredibly controlling. In our interactions he is kind but also quite patronizing.

I think they tortured us both as children and he kept going in the program, while I got eliminated or my father rescued me from my probable destiny as a prostitute/spy. There were real consequences for my family and also my future “career” since they never really let you flourish after you’ve deserted. I’ve had a pretty interesting life as a “freelancer” and sometimes have been a gadfly to the system - managing to exist in the margins and not commit suicide thanks in particular to my stoic constitution, Presbyterian dad, Madonna mom and later on Zen practice with the “Marines of the spiritual world.” I might be slow-moving but I’m not a quitter.

When I made contact with Mick in the early 1990s my life changed dramatically for the better. A very positive and creative force replaced the dark energy I was experiencing in Canada, which I know realize was the Tavistockian agenda, very obvious in the world of journalism where I was trying to make a living. With Mick as a long distance friend I felt I had found my real soul family. I saw him as heroic, a survivor of some deep hell realm with a message that was almost Messianic - or at least similar to the Tibetan Buddhist teachings I was somewhat aligned with.

I naturally contrasted this with the man next door, Leonard Cohen, who ruled over a tiny police state and was actually still being handled by the Allan Memorial psychiatrists. Paranoia and gossip were rife in that neighborhood which was a kind of microcosm of Montreal’s decaying Anglo elite. I enjoyed watching it decay but I didn’t yet know much about MKULTRA-- I had missed my only chance to visit the files.

I think those files might have mentioned Mick Jagger as a young boy who visited from England. Why do I think that? Because the same person, Ken Hertz, who first told me he read my MKULTRA file at McGill in 1977, also insisted on taking me to New York on my 26th birthday that April. He offered to pay my way, and I finally agreed after he added (nervously, as if he wasnt supposed to say it) “You could meet Mick Jagger.”

Ken was trained in hypnotism and I think he put me under during our 48 hour stay in Greenwich Village with a woman who later became a therapist connected to the NXIVM cult. We met up with Allan Moyle in the evening of Saturday April 9, and began walking somewhere but my memory goes blank and it’s as if we never arrived. Years later came the flashback to being on a hotel bed with Mick Jagger, very high on drugs and dressed in a green leather outfit he sometimes wore at the time, according to a photo I found on the web.

I woke up hours later on a mattress on the floor of Annie Nayer’s 5th floor flat, next to Allan who the next day accompanied us back to Montreal. He was very attentive and never left my side - I had no idea why and didnt realize I had “missing time”. But years later he told me he used to visit Jagger in NY in the mid seventies when he was making his film Times Square. I think my asexual encounter with Jagger might have been the inspiration for “She’s So Cold” which I heard for the first time in Leonard’s kitchen on Hydra in the winter of 1980-81 when I was freezing and had come to borrow an electric heater...

If I was cold it was probably because I was under hypnosis and didn’t remember knowing him. I am guessing he arranged the meeting with Bozo whom he knew in New York. He had just been through the scandal with Margaret Trudeau who had attached herself to the Stones in Toronto and later showed partying at Studio 54, making international news and ending her abusive marriage with Pierre. Both he and Margaret were mind controlled by the same Air Force shrinks who brainwashed my family. Maybe she triggered Mick’s memories, and then he found out that Allan knew his little ex-girlfriend and had a friend (Ken) who had read our files and could bring me to meet him in New York but I must not be told the reason for the trip, otherwise I might refuse. Or I might talk, or tell my mother. There were many reasons to keep the plan hidden from me as a “surprise” on my 26th birthday.

Like Leonard Cohen, Ken had learned hypnotism from the CIA-owned psychiatrists at McGill and could put me under for the trip.

If you ask me, chances were poor that a scheme hatched by Ken and Alan, two Monarch program operatives with a history of playing sadistic games with unwitting female victims, would end in a happy reunion in New York for me and Mick. More likely it would turn into a joke or end in tears. These would-be Svengalis never learn. They just keep making their silly movies -- Alan went on to direct Times Square and Pump Up the Volume, both about teenagers trapped in the artificial world of punk and post-punk America.

For the Montreal Main filmmaking crowd that I met in the early 1970s, the Stones were Gods and so was Leonard Cohen whose nickname for them was “the hounds.”

To be continued