A drive down Haight Street was not what it used to be. From the explosion of wide-eyed kids, a new desperate edge had crept in. Now people would watch you very closely as you walked along, looking to see if you wanted to score, or if you were a narc. And there was unquestionably the vibe, as people would say then, that whatever lay behind all this, it no longer had anyone’s best interests in mind.
Still, hard drugs were a rarity. That they were there at all was probably because no one believed (like marijuana, like — not too much — LSD) they could really hurt us. We were “sunlight,” we were “golden,” sang Joni Mitchell about Woodstock.
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