EIGHT FINGER EDDIE teleports old hippies back into the BOUNDLESS, RARE FREEDOM in India during the hashish-powered, sexy Golden Age from 1964 to 1973. Lavishly illustrated with 42 rare photographs, the HIPPIE HISTORY of GOA and KATHMANDU comes alive through these spirited, end-of-life recollections from India's most renowned expatriate. Eddie was famous from Goa to Kathmandu as "the Original Freak." Enjoy the first and last pages of the book:
FIRST PAGE:
Outwardly, Eight Finger Eddie was nothing special. He lived humbly in India for 44 years on $100 a month. Yet, to his thousands of hippie friends, he was a most sacred man. Eddie was not a high flier in India like Ram Dass, but he was one of us. He was earthy, a pleasure to be with, and if you were flipped-out, he would feed and shelter you.
During his second trip to Goa in 1966 –– at the age of 42 –– Eddie welcomed all hippie travelers to live and to share food in his home. He explained to his expatriate neighbor on Colva Beach, “It is cold in Goa at night, so I am simply providing shelter for those with little or no money to rent a room."
Eddie’s compassion was unconditional. He sheltered the most extreme junkies, psychopaths, and flip-outs. He was the Master of Madness. You were absolutely free to act out in his space, unless you started to hurt someone. Free shelter philosophy of Eight Finger Eddie:
Everyone is welcome –– unconditionally ––
I will not ask anyone for money.
I will not ask anyone to do any work in the house.
Those who wish to contribute, may do so.
If that’s not enough, I’ll provide for everyone.
My name is Earthman. I am a hippie historian and the author of these reflections about Eddie and the Golden Age of the hippie trip in Goa and Kathmandu –– the years from 1964 to 1973.
My first sight of Eddie was in the hippie hashish joint named the Cabin in Kathmandu in 1969. The free-flowing way Eddie danced blew me away! The final time I hung out with Eddie was 40 years later on Anjuna Beach during the 2008/2009 winter season in Goa. I patiently interviewed him during a six-week period at Joe Bananas café on south Anjuna Beach.
During the interviews, Eddie was 83 years old, and I was 61.
FINAL PAGE:
The death and cremation of Eight Finger Eddie in October, 2010 made a brief splash in newspapers around the world. Yet life summaries in newspaper obituaries are by nature agonizingly marginal. They shrink an extraordinary human’s lifetime into a few paragraphs. The summary shallowness in the reporting about Eddie’s life by non-participants in the India hippie movement portray a belittling caricature of him. I will not allow the memory of Eight Finger Eddie to fade away like this!
Yes calmly, I became aware that my destiny was to write the life story of this great man to perpetuate his true spirit. My inner angels immediately assigned me to this task of divine sadness. So I knocked off this memoir in San Francisco in four months, plus another two month to gather, finesse, and place the photographs into the book. I purposefully did not polish it. Like Eddie, the real man, the story is folksy and has intriguing rough edges.
When I found out that silent night that Eddie had passed, I did not weep. The teardrops came later, running down my face while keyboarding his life story. That’s when his spirit came gushing out onto these pages. I miss him deeply. Between my last interviews with Eddie and his cremation –– both my parents passed away –– 27 days apart.
So, I have fashioned a cherished living place for Mom and Dad in my heart. Now, my oldest friend, Eight Finger Eddie, has gone also, and I welcome him too, to dwell in my heart forever, where …
unconditionally
everyone is welcome
I will not ask anyone for money
I will not ask anyone to do any work
those who wish to contribute may do so
if that’s not enough I’ll provide for everyone
FIRST PAGE:
Outwardly, Eight Finger Eddie was nothing special. He lived humbly in India for 44 years on $100 a month. Yet, to his thousands of hippie friends, he was a most sacred man. Eddie was not a high flier in India like Ram Dass, but he was one of us. He was earthy, a pleasure to be with, and if you were flipped-out, he would feed and shelter you.
During his second trip to Goa in 1966 –– at the age of 42 –– Eddie welcomed all hippie travelers to live and to share food in his home. He explained to his expatriate neighbor on Colva Beach, “It is cold in Goa at night, so I am simply providing shelter for those with little or no money to rent a room."
Eddie’s compassion was unconditional. He sheltered the most extreme junkies, psychopaths, and flip-outs. He was the Master of Madness. You were absolutely free to act out in his space, unless you started to hurt someone. Free shelter philosophy of Eight Finger Eddie:
Everyone is welcome –– unconditionally ––
I will not ask anyone for money.
I will not ask anyone to do any work in the house.
Those who wish to contribute, may do so.
If that’s not enough, I’ll provide for everyone.
My name is Earthman. I am a hippie historian and the author of these reflections about Eddie and the Golden Age of the hippie trip in Goa and Kathmandu –– the years from 1964 to 1973.
My first sight of Eddie was in the hippie hashish joint named the Cabin in Kathmandu in 1969. The free-flowing way Eddie danced blew me away! The final time I hung out with Eddie was 40 years later on Anjuna Beach during the 2008/2009 winter season in Goa. I patiently interviewed him during a six-week period at Joe Bananas café on south Anjuna Beach.
During the interviews, Eddie was 83 years old, and I was 61.
FINAL PAGE:
The death and cremation of Eight Finger Eddie in October, 2010 made a brief splash in newspapers around the world. Yet life summaries in newspaper obituaries are by nature agonizingly marginal. They shrink an extraordinary human’s lifetime into a few paragraphs. The summary shallowness in the reporting about Eddie’s life by non-participants in the India hippie movement portray a belittling caricature of him. I will not allow the memory of Eight Finger Eddie to fade away like this!
Yes calmly, I became aware that my destiny was to write the life story of this great man to perpetuate his true spirit. My inner angels immediately assigned me to this task of divine sadness. So I knocked off this memoir in San Francisco in four months, plus another two month to gather, finesse, and place the photographs into the book. I purposefully did not polish it. Like Eddie, the real man, the story is folksy and has intriguing rough edges.
When I found out that silent night that Eddie had passed, I did not weep. The teardrops came later, running down my face while keyboarding his life story. That’s when his spirit came gushing out onto these pages. I miss him deeply. Between my last interviews with Eddie and his cremation –– both my parents passed away –– 27 days apart.
So, I have fashioned a cherished living place for Mom and Dad in my heart. Now, my oldest friend, Eight Finger Eddie, has gone also, and I welcome him too, to dwell in my heart forever, where …
unconditionally
everyone is welcome
I will not ask anyone for money
I will not ask anyone to do any work
those who wish to contribute may do so
if that’s not enough I’ll provide for everyone
