I first went to San Francisco in February 1967, the winter before the Summer of Love. The trip was more pilgrimage than planned vacation. I had just turned 19, and was living on St. Mark's Place in New York City's East Village.
A few weeks before embarking on my journey westward, I'd been in the audience at the Fillmore East when Timothy Leary issued his psychedelic rallying cry, "Turn on, tune in, drop out!" Like someone swept away by religious fervor, I heard the call and followed. But after turning on and tuning in, I wasn't sure what to do next,...
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