Search

SiteWorks: San Francisco performance 1969-85

La Mamelle Arts Center, 3rd Floor, 70 12th Street at Market

Lowell Darling, Elect Lowell Darling Governor: Last Chance to Influence the Candidate and Get a Campaign Button (2pm, 4th June 1978)

Reset map

Elevation

Directions

Description

We drove back to San Francisco for an afternoon cocktail party, and looking back after the events that took place, I would say San Francisco seemed empty […] I was standing alone near Farley’s car, the blue 1951 Studebaker of the future, when two guys suddenly walked up to me wearing handkerchief-style masks like cattle rustlers […] They grabbed my arms. I resisted, but they forced me toward their car parked at the curb. A car behind me peeled around the corner. At first I considered going, thinking they were pretending. Then in a frightening realization it hit me that they were forcefully (forcefully!) trying to stuff me in their car. I knew they weren’t Arab terrorists because they drove a red pinto. What serious kidnappers would use an economy car, a two door to give them trouble doubling up their victim, putting him in the backseat? I kicked the door closed to gain time. Protesting against my struggle, they kept repeating loudly that they were friends. “Fuck all,” I hope I screamed, “my friends are kind, they treat me like I’m running for the Prince of North America.” (I have been spoiled)

I had been holding a tape recorder, but it fell on the sidewalk and stuck on Record. All this was happening so quickly I feel frustrated trying to put it into words. Words are slow, fear is fast. Adrenaline rushes in where the memory returns reluctantly. When the equipment hit the cement, that’s when I began to get serious. But we were merely fifteen feet and ten seconds from where it all began, so I probably would have begun swinging at that point in any case.

Farley came out and took three-quarters of a second to read the HELP! In my eyes.“Oh, yeah. Try this!” He turned into Bluto before my very eyes. Between the two of the Bader-Meinhof players fled the scene in their Pinto. I think they were surprised that I didn’t go. (Darling 1980: 196)

Additional Resources