2.

Lucas Andrews was born in Manchester, England in 1950. His mother died of pneumonia when he was 8. Lucas spent most of his childhood in Manchester with his father, working at the local shoes factory. His father was an alcoholic and went through severe depression. In 1965, the factory went bankrupt making 600 workers unemployed. Lucas and his father were broken. The Beatles released “Paperback writer”, unemployed rate was high. After a couple of years living in the needs, Lucas father died of a heart attack. The day after, Lucas then 18, left England with 30 dollars and took on board “The Passenger” to the United States, New York.

After seeking for a place to stay for a week, he managed to rent a small room in the suburbs of New York for 4 dollars. The place was more like a guest house, it had a bar, a kitchen and a dozen rooms. A guy named Mike owned the guest house. It had a cynic and unpleasant name The Parade. The place was creepy. Many junkies settled in the hall. Some of them where even having cocaine shots and kept screaming, singing and laughing the whole day. A few cops, often came in to check and arrest the people who weren’t able to pay them 10 dollars. The system was a guarantee for the people of the guesthouse. The owner had no problems with the cops for boarding strange people, if all of his clients could afford paying 10 dollars when the cops checked in. This was how it worked: If you wanted to stay you had to pay. Lucas was often short on money.

The Parade was the kind of place where you had luck if you were able to avoid drugs, cops, and lunatic intruders for two days. The place was known for its eccentricity but also because it had all the newcomers. They were Irish people, Mexican people, Swedish people, German people. All were disillusioned by the American dream and had lost everything in a month.

Lucas was one of them and I managed to help him.

I met Lucas in September of 1968 at The Parade. I was introduced to him by Mike whom I started to know pretty well after many drunk outs and late nights. Lucas was a calm and sensitive person. He was brilliant and full of goodwill, one of those guys who believed that all of society could be affected by one solitary life. We had the same intentions and visions of our world. In the mid 60’sit seemed that anybody could do anything, even go to the moon. You could do whatever you wanted – in the ads and in the articles, ignore your limitations, defy them. If you were an indecisive person, you could become a leader. If you were a housewife, you could become a glamour girl with mind-blowing sunglasses. If you were old, you could become young. Anything was possible. The 60’s had a magic touch. But in the inside those changing were the result of constant disapproval towards war, governments. The world was changing and so was U.S.A.

In the 1950's, the United States began to send troops to Vietnam, the ensuing war would create some of the strongest tensions in US history. Almost 3 million US men and women

were sent thousands of miles to fight for what was a questionable cause. The anti-war movement was without a doubt an important part of the political development in the US at the time.

Lucas knew little about all that was going on in the veins of America. I taught him the basics, gave him my point of view, my opinions, I was a pacifist. I was born Andy Kaysiak in New Orleans in 1949. I managed to escape from Vietnam War and went to New York at 16, leaving my conservative parents and their strong belief in Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon and the American war against communism. The war had no useful meanings for me, I was looking for something fresh and innocent.

New York, the inner light city, a hard time for a 16 year old kid. Bob Dylan did the same around that time travelling on a freight train. I made my way hardly and earn a little bit of money selling news papers on Mcdougal Street in the heart of Greenwich Village. I met a lot of weird people during that time. Drag queens, prostitutes, musicians, business people all were much alike clowns in a big circus. They offered me jobs, all kind of jobs. I was for a short time working for a local dealer, which helped me avoid troubles with the gangs of Greenwich. Wasn’t paid well, but at least I had a job. This wasn’t at all what I had in mind as a living. I had to focus on my real thoughts, my path wasn’t clear yet. Leaving Truman and Nixon behind I was in desperate need to go beyond and learn more about American society and find a cure. I will not ignore America like before. Growing up in New York, made me conscious that we were all struggling to find a reason for us being in this world. I was fed up by politics. All I knew is I needed to know. The answer came right at me as a bullet when I heard the news: Vietnam War escalation begins, 150,000 US troops deployed to Vietnam.
US black nationalist leader, Malcolm X, is assassinated in Harlem. The anti-war movement was spreading. I believed in that cause. Too young to go on the street and take part in riots, I spent time at the public library reading. I read a lot, every day, keeping in touch with what was going on in the rest of the world. Read in the New York Tribune that similar events had took place in France.