BRUCE CUTLER SMACKDOWN
“Lana,” says Beardsley, “was a sweet girl who really loved that little foal, and she was totally devastated after it happened. Donna was so furious she refused to speak to the people who were responsible. She got a job at a winery in Napa after that.”
The Dead, Carlos Santana, the wild flamenco dancers from another commune down the road, and scores of day-trippers would stop by and ignite spontaneous parties. The area was then the world capital of LSD, and there was a lot of acid tripping going on. Hidden at the back of a kitchen shelf was a black jar holding a hockey-puck-size mass of the now-mythical concoction of LSD known as “Orange Sunshine”—all of which was eventually consumed.
W hen she turned 14, they mated her horse, Breeze, with one of the commune’s horses—a large, papered white Arabian stallion named Kief. Lana and the other local girls hung around the corral, looking on with fascination as the horses coupled. Not long after its birth the foal stepped into a posthole, snapped its leg, and had to be put down. Some of the commune members decided to freeze the meat and serve it at a party at a nearby ranch, where Lana accidentally ate her own horse.
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In Napa? With the co-conspirator Stephen Gianelli?