1<br > San Francixco." June 1960<br >GR~Y-SltADOW ED ( l.OtSl)S lowered across the sky over Golden<br >Gate Park; it was a cool， crisp Sunday morning. Hundreds of<br >young people were scatlered across the green stretches of<br >lawn. In their tie-dye shirts， en~broidered vests， painted jack-.<br >ets， beads and headbands they looked like clumps of wildly<br >colored flowers. Some of them swayed to the soft strumming<br >of guilars， chanting the lyrics of a Dylan song， while others<br >lounged in the deep grass smiling vacantly. Conservatively<br >dressed neighborhood residents avoided the open areas and<br >stayed on the gravel walks， scowling at the invasion of their<br >park by this strange leenage army.<br > David St. Clair hurried across the meadows， sleppmg<br >gingerly around kids asleep tinder blankets， cartons of lake-<br >out food and bags lilled with personal possessions thai liHered<br >the grounds. He looked conspicuously out of place in neatly<br >pressed slacks， sport shirt and cashmere sweater. Where other<br >boys his age had long hair， beards and moustaches， his own<br >thick blond hair was cut cnnventionally short and his face<br >was meticulously clean-shaven. It was altogether a striking<br >image， like an artist s conception of the ideal all-American<br >college boy. But it wasn t just his appearance thai sei him<br >apart. His disdainful expression and supercilious manner<br >clearly expressed contempt. To him the hippies were no more<br >than a gang of unruly children indulging in an absurd game.<br > The smell of unwashed bodies and urine cut through lhe<br >c001 morning air. [)avid grimaced in disgust. He headed for<br >Stanyon Street. A makeshift tent blocked his way and he<br >paused to look through the half-opened flap at a couple rnak-<br >ing love. The girl wriggled dirly toes and made strangled<br >sounds of pleasure， hut l)avid s attention was caught by the<br >sight of the naked boy crouched over her. Lean and muscu-<br > 17<br >