[sixties-l] Einhorn Trial Turns Back Clock (fwd)

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Date: Tue Oct 08 2002 - 15:03:14 EDT

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    Date: Tue, 08 Oct 2002 11:27:38 -0700
    From: radtimes <resist@best.com>
    Subject: Einhorn Trial Turns Back Clock

    Einhorn Trial Turns Back Clock

    http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/national/AP-Einhorn-1970s-Flashback.html

    By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

    PHILADELPHIA (AP) -- ``Let me take you back to the 1970s ... ``

    Those are the words prosecutors used as each witness took the stand last
    week in the long-awaited retrial of former counterculture guru Ira
    Einhorn -- a murder case that has refocused attention on Philadelphia's
    counterculture era.

    But not everyone's memories are the same of those days of free love and free
    spirits, when Einhorn was the city's head hippie and Holly Maddux was his
    beautiful girlfriend who sold baked goods at the food co-op and dabbled in
    art.

    ``It was a time when people were trying to be different and were trying
    different things,'' said Kathryn Keegan, who first met Einhorn in 1970 and
    worked with him on an event called ``Sun Day'' in 1978 to promote solar
    energy.

    Some witnesses smiled wistfully as they recollected the community of
    artists, activists and eccentrics who worked and shopped in the Ecology Food
    Co-operative, lived in a communal house and showed their art at an
    all-women's gallery in a bohemian enclave.

    Phrases like ``We were dialoguing'' and ``It was too much negativity for
    me'' likely haven't been taken down by a court stenographer with such
    frequency for quite some time.

    Others were more matter-of-fact, recounting events as if recalling the life
    of another person. Some remembered precious little from days of expanded
    consciousness and mind-altering drugs.

    Einhorn hobnobbed with counterculture icons like Jerry Rubin and Abbie
    Hoffman, organized ``be-ins,'' was involved in the city's first Earth Day in
    1970, and ran for mayor as a ``planetary enzyme -- catalyst for change.''

    He also made friends of Philadelphia's business and civic leaders, many of
    whom were character witnesses at his bail hearing after Maddux's body was
    found in March 1979 in Einhorn's closet -- 18 months after she had
    disappeared.

    He fled on the eve of his 1981 trial, living throughout Europe under assumed
    names until he was tracked in 1997 to a French village. A French appeals
    court allowed the extradition in July 2001 after receiving assurances that
    Einhorn's 1993 conviction in absentia would be vacated.

    Einhorn, 62, intended to take the stand this week -- the second week of the
    trial -- and testify that the CIA killed Maddux and framed him for the
    murder because of his research into ``psychic warfare.''

    Einhorn seemed occasionally amused with the blast-from-the-past parade of
    former friends and neighbors at his trial. He put on his glasses as
    witnesses entered the courtroom with a gesture of recognition or tiny grin
    at the sight of people he hadn't seen in 25 years or more.

    ``We were part of a peace movement, we were into nonviolent behavior, we
    were into civil rights and we were involved in the hippie lifestyle,'' said
    Barbara Kubiak, who with her husband George, were believed to be the last to
    see Maddux alive.

    Most of Einhorn's old friends and neighbors have assimilated into the
    mainstream, appearing comfortable in their jackets and ties. Some have not.

    One witness who sublet Einhorn's apartment in the mid-1970s had difficulty
    answering some of the questions posed by both sides, then scratched his
    head, turned to Judge William Mazzola and said, ``Can I ask a question?''

    The startled judge replied, ``Whoa, whoa, whoa,'' to stop his question from
    continuing, which amused the courtroom audience and the witness, who
    chuckled and repeated, ``Whoa, whoa, whoa.''

    There were much grimmer moments as well. Several witnesses remembered Maddux
    had bruises in 1977, a time when feminism and women's rights were gathering
    steam.

    ``She was stoic when she talked about what happened to her,'' said Penny
    Jeannechild, who taught a women's assertiveness training class in which
    Maddux was briefly enrolled. ``I told her she didn't have to take that from
    anyone.''



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