Just after I entered the
store, a lively and energetic
On Saturday I arrived to a mob scene of Alice's admirers,
many with memorabilia from the '60s that they wanted signed. Others were
viewing and purchasing her artwork and recent book, How to Massage Your Cat;
and still others were just seeking to recapture fond memories of their youth
that Alice's presence evoked. An interview was impossible. The Bookstore owner
told me to come back on Sunday at 3 p.m. to do the interview when things would
be winding down. I did, but it was the same scene. I waited till 4 p.m., when
the reception ended. But still, the hanging-on groupies crowded us. So we
slipped across the street to the Olde Heritage Tavern for a quiet tà ªte--tà ªte.
As we crossed the street, we were greeted by two
"60-something" bikers and a number of their friends. Alice commented
that they were not ordinary fans, they were actually part of the church "family'"
who were portrayed in the film -- Ralph Pinto, Jimmy Jacobs ("Dr.
Vaseline" -- he was slippery) and Rick Robbins - who, along with Arlo
Guthrie, dumped the garbage over the roadside (because the garbage dump was
closed for thanksgiving) that was one of the main themes of the movie.
"But they're not
hippies anymore," Alice said. She cited one member of the church family
who became a high-end international art dealer.
Her mother said to her: "You're feeding all those drop-ins at the church for nothing -- why don't you open a restaurant and get them to pay?" The real reason, though, for opening the restaurant, she said, was to get away from a troubled marriage and to do something on her own. They also needed money. Her husband Ray Brock, although an architect, was mainly working on construction projects and odd jobs. He also had three children from a previous marriage and gave most of his earnings for child support, said Alice.
Alice found an old diner in the alley behind the grocery store on Main Street in Stockbridge. It was a good location in town. Down the block was the famous Red Lion Inn. And not far from there in the other direction was Norman Rockwell's home. But the restaurant never made much money: "I charged too little, so it was popular -- it got a reputation for outstanding and unusual food. And of course, the "family" didn't pay -- but I did take a lot of food back to the church for the constant stream of dropouts."
Despite the popularity of the restaurant, townspeople were often hostile to
Alice left Ray in 1969 and went to Boston to get away from what she described as his continued pursuit of her. After two months in
Alice stayed on in the area and later bought an inn and restaurant - Avaloch -- on a hill in Lenox just across the road from Tanglewood where the Boston Symphony Orchestra is ensconced for the summer. Later, new owners named it the Apple Tree Inn. In 1979, she said, "I had it and just walked away and left it to the bank." She headed for Provincetown, Massachusetts., on Cape Cod, a place that she had fond childhood memories of from vacationing there with her parents.
When she split for Provincetown, she had little money, only $2,000 in quarters from Avaloch's vending machines: "But money was never a big issue in my life." She worked as a cook in a restaurant for a few months, and then later again as a cook, making her unusual dishes overnight and leaving in the morning when the customers started to arrive. Ironically, she eventually bought a house near the beach that was a chapel. Ironically, for a person who is not religious, she has lived much of her life in churches.
Today she says she's content and happy -- lives "in paradise," does her art, walks the beaches, breathes the air as a free spirit, and "dreams."
Her art that was on display at "The Bookstore" in Lenox is playful and upbeat -- it will bring a smile to your face. She also likes to paint stones -- with raunchy images -- that she leaves on the beach for others to find. Friends have joined in this mission and have dropped her stones on beaches and other exotic places around the world -- and some have even been dropped over the
Does she have any regrets, or wish she had done it differently? No, she said: "What happened, happened, and it was all part of the times." She never planned on having a commune -- "the family" also just happened -- it evolved by itself."
Is she still in touch with Arlo? Yes; in fact, a few years ago she illustrated a children's book that he wrote, Mooses Come Walking. And years after the church was sold, Arlo bought the Old Trinity Church in Great Barrington when it came back on the market in 1991. Now called The Guthrie Center, it's an interfaith center for meditation, local and international service programs, and social activism.
Since today's world situation has much in common with the '60s -- an unpopular war, loss of meaning, and rampant materialism -- I asked Alice for her view of then and now. "Kids have it much tougher today," she remarked. "At that time, we thought we could change the world, so we were hopeful. Today everyone feels powerless -- that the world is out of control and that life is all about making money, not about community or sharing." I followed with the obvious question: So what would you do today if you were 20-something? She had no easy answer. After a long hesitation, she said she would probably go into politics to try to make a difference -- but the absence of enthusiasm accompanying this answer from a person of great passion spoke tons about the difference between then and now: hope vs. despair.
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