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Righter is only one of about 10,000 full-time and 175,000 part-time astrologers in the U.S. Moreover, like almost everything else, astrology is being computerized. A company called Time Pattern Research Institute, Inc. has programmed a computer to turn out 10,000 word horoscope readings in two minutes; it expects to be doing 10,000 a month by June.
The astrology boom is made up of many elements—including merchandising, show business and crass exploitation of people's credulity. Department stores across the U.S. are mounting astrological promotions. Woolworth's is pushing a full line of zodiacal highball and cocktail glasses and paper napkins. Bulls, goats, crabs and scorpions are beginning to embellish everything from children's clothes to writing paper; St. Crispin in Manhattan is offering its Park Avenue clientele "astronotes" for invitations. One Manhattan beauty parlor boasts a resident astrologer and twelve special hairdos, one for each sign of the zodiac. A perfume manufacturer is doing well with twelve zodiac scents.
Show business everywhere is dabbling in astrology and more or less related arts. Seeress Sybil Leek's Diary of a Witch is already in its second printing, though her alleged witchcraft seems mainly a device to distinguish her from such colleagues in the prophecy business as the redoubtable Jeane Dixon and British Seer Maurice Woodruff, who does his predicting on a syndicated TV show hosted by Robert Q. Lewis. To lend a little magic to public entertainments, Los Angeles enjoys the services of an official County Witch—a title conferred by the County Supervisor on Mrs. Louise Huebner, a thirtyish "third-generation astrologer and sixth-generation witch." Sorceress Huebner, who affects clinging outfits of silver for her increasingly frequent broadcasts and public appearances, made her official debut last July at a folk festival in the Hollywood Bowl, at which everyone was supplied with red candles, garlic and chalk and instructed to repeat after her three times: "Light the flame, bright the fire, red the color of desire." The spell was supposed to increase sexual vitality, and some reported that it did.
The young, too, are exploiting the boom, although less cynically. A California rock group called The Fool has recorded several zodiacal songs—not because they believe only in astrology, but because they feel generally tuned in to the entire occult world (the Fool is the card in the fortunetelling Tarot deck that stands for Man). "This is a very brilliant generation," says Kiyo, a young half-Japanese astrologer who works mostly among pop groups and folk singers. "They're interested in astrology because they've found the material things failing them, and they're trying to find their souls." In Manhattan, one of the brightest young astrologers is 28-year-old Barbara Birdfeather, who is writing a column for Eye magazine and draws private clients from the under-30 set.
Spells for Love and Money
Along with pot and fascination with Eastern mysticism, astrology has made itself at home in the radical "free