My Return to New Vrindaban.

Watching Holy Cow Swami last week made me want to take another trip to New Vrindaban. I thought about a few people that might enjoy such a trip, and put out some invitations. M. definitely wanted to go (she had never been there), and my friend Mike desired a return visit. He had accompanied me during my visit of three years ago, when we met Tapahpunja Dasa - who gave us a very informative tour of the organic community garden. Our whole group was impressed by this elder devotee's knowledge base, commitment and worldview. When I saw the younger version of Tapahpunja interviewed by Jacob Young for the documentary, I felt inspired to return to see how things were going with the community. I showed Mike Holy Cow Swami, and we had a lot of quality conversation about the way events were portrayed and about faith and religion in general. We could have stayed up talking far into the night, but we wanted to have some energy for our day trip.

Our intention was to leave at 9AM, but Mike convinced me to let him check the oil in my car- which turned out to be a good thing since I desperately needed an oil change. This gave us the opportunity to stop at an Aspinwall coffeehouse and build up more anticipation with talk about what we were going to see. The 70-mile drive was as pleasant as I remembered. Although it was overcast on the way there, it was all sun-and-blue-skies by the time we got to Moundsville and grabbed lunch. We chose a little coffee shop with down-home cookin' (dare I say that I ate a Sloppy Joe?) and few vegetarian options for M. Then we were on our way through the wooded hills on winding back-roads, and the next thing we knew we were greeted with the bright sunlight reflected off of the top of the Palace of Gold.

M. wanted to take the tour, and I'm afraid I couldn't stop myself from badgering the guide with all kinds of questions about the state of the community, and about Prabhupada's life before coming to America. I think he was unsure about where I was coming from, and was a bit guarded about answering. Then again I would assume that tour guides are given a canned speech and encouraged to stick to it. They mostly want to keep it light and general, and include lots of little details about all the fine materials that were used during the original construction of the palace. This was all basic stuff that I had heard previously. I wanted more information. I tried to assure him that I meant well, and by the end I thought that he believed in my sincerity. He told me to take a copy of the Bhagavad Gita when he discovered that I didn't own a copy.

After that M. and I walked around the grounds. I spent some time taking photos with my new camera. It was getting very hot. I thought I'd take M. down to the "Temple of Understanding". To my dismay, it was dark and all the deities were covered. After being told that they would be unveiled in an hour or so, we decided to take a walk by the pond, aviary and guest cottages. For the first time, I noticed Hayagriva's (Howard Wheeler) monument. It is a boxlike container structure, and I wondered if his remains were inside. Mike and I decided to walk up a road between the cottages, and lo and behold we met up with Tapahpunja, who was making his way down from the farm in a car. I asked him if he would give us another tour of the gardens, and he was most agreeable. We all gathered under the pavilion.

I had meant to hear about some of the plants being grown there, but we got sidetracked quickly. I asked Tapahpunja if he had seen Jacob Young's film, but he replied that he hadn't. He did remember getting interviewed for it. I wanted to hear details about Prabhupada's life and the early years of New Vrindaban. I also wanted to know his thoughts on what it means to have a "spiritual master". As he had been a few years ago, Tapahpunja Dasa was gracious and forthcoming. He explained what it meant to be God-brothers with Kirtanananda Bhaktipada, and gave us an idea about what the man was like before the troubles of the 1980's. But he also pointed out that he had been initiated by Prabhupada, and considered him his spiritual master. After a bit our little party was thirsty, and T. sent me for some water and cups from a guest house. We realized what that meant since he had explained that the community was experiencing a shortage of water. We continued to talk, and then Tapahpunja invited us to have some dinner.

We gathered around the table for food and more great conversation. Tapahpunja has a wealth of wisdom about the nature of the food we eat, corporate monoculture, and farming. He is also politically savvy and has compelling recommendations of books and documentaries to enlighten those who choose to seek more knowledge. But what I am most impressed by is that Tapahpunja has an extraordinary facility for relating a practical lifestyle to his spiritual beliefs. It was easy to sit quietly and listen, but we also took our turns talking and asking more questions. I am always pleasantly taken aback by the generosity of Krishna and his followers. Annadanum is the practice of sharing food with others, and to many it is a sacred duty. But we felt privileged to receive pasta, salad and a tasty stew from Tapahpunja. We were equally blessed to be joined by his wife.

Inevitably the day grows long and it is time for us to leave New Vrindaban. As I expected we had plenty to think about on the drive home. One of the things that hit home with me was an impassioned claim that Tapapunjah made concerning the human condition. He said that the slaughter of human animals is effecting our karma as individuals, and collectively. The resulting baggage is the reason we are faced with pestilence, war, climate destruction and conflict. Although I'm not a Hindu, I feel that this belief deserves sufficient consideration. A meat-eater like me has to take that to heart. For both "god" and the Earth's sake, perhaps I can at least give up eating the meat of a cow?

Jacob Young, "Holy Cow Swami" (1996).

One of the pleasant surprises of Jacob Young's visit to Film Kitchen last week was the existence on DVD of several of his works that I had been wanting to see for a long time. A couple of years ago I had actually planned to drive down into West Virginia to buy several VHS tapes straight from the director himself. Probably the most intriguing film I had heard about was an almost 3-hour long documentary about Kirtanananda Swami Bhaktipada (a.k.a. Keith Ham), the founder and spiritual head of the Hare Krishna community at New Vrindaban, near Moundsville, WV.

As I wrote in a blog post last summer, I have visited New Vrindaban several times- both while Bhaktipada was going through the worst of his legal difficulties (around 1992), and during the past five years. During my initial visit I wasn't even aware of the problems the community was then facing. Later I heard stories of the Swami getting charged and imprisoned for multiple criminal acts. I never did get the full story though, and that is why I was so anxious to see Jacob Young's Holy Cow Swami. So a couple of days ago, my sparkling new copy arrived directly from Young's distributor, and I watched it earlier this evening.

The film starts with the introduction of ISKCON-founder A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, who came to New York City as an Indian immigrant with $6 in his pocket. He set up a storefront mission on the Lower East Side and began sharing his faith and spiritual knowledge with all the young people then inhabiting that environment. It was at that time that Keith Ham approached Prabhupada, and became his first devotee. While his master traveled to California (and internationally) to spread his message, Ham and his lover Howard Wheeler set out to build a Krishna Community on a 100-acre farm in the wilderness of West Virginia.

As time passed, Prabhupada built temples all over the world. By the time of his death in 1977, New Vrindaban had grown to hundreds of acres, and had hundreds of devotees. Keith Ham had become Kirtanananda Swami Bhaktipada- the head of the community, and one of twelve internationally-recognized spiritual successors to Prabhupada. The mid-80's marked the peak of New Vrindaban's development, and almost 800 inhabitants had built up a thriving center of worship. Almost 500,000 tourists annually were making pilgrimages to the holy site. A grand "Palace of Gold" had been built to honor Prabhupada. Meanwhile the surrounding community in Marshall County looked on warily. Rumors began to spread that things weren't altogether above board at New Vrindaban.

Part of the controversy was the method that Krishnas were using to raise money. They would approach groups of people at sporting events, and issue "citations" for "having too much fun". This was their pitch to get people to contribute to the charities that the fundraisers said they represented- including Jerry's Kid's, Appalachian Orphanages, and (hilariously) NORML. But in point of fact, that money was landing directly in the pockets of Bhaktipada, to spend as he saw fit. At the same time other schemes involved the copyright infringement of professional sports team logos on pirated gear that Krishnas were selling.

But this wasn't the worst of it. When one disgruntled ex-devotee was gunned down in California, and another was executed at New Vrindaban itself, the authorities moved on the Swami. They charged him with conspiracy to murder, fraud, kidnapping and racketeering. Amidst all these charges ran a constant stream of allegations regarding child molestation that Bhaktipada was said to be personally involved in. For years the community rallied behind their beloved guru, even as he was convicted and put on house arrest pending appeal. But as more bodies began to surface on temple lands, a mass defection started. When Bhaktipada was released due to a successful appeal for a new trial, his return to New Vrindaban was celebrated by his remaining followers.

However, the celebration was short-lived. The last straw occurred when Bhaktivada's loyal disciples bought him a Winnebago to travel to a world religious conference. On the way, the Swami stopped to pick up a Malaysian youth from an airport. The Winnebago's driver witnessed Bhaktipada engaged in hanky-panky with the boy in the vehicle's on-board bed. Word soon passed between the adherents at New Vrindaban, and a group of elder devotees met with their guru and expelled him from the community for good. The permanently disgraced Keith Ham ultimately pled guilty and went to serve his time in prison.

Jacob Young justifiably considers Holy Cow Swami to be his magnum opus. The film runs almost three complete hours, and its production values are the best I've seen in any of Young's documentary works. Its length virtually prohibits any chance of widespread distribution. But Young has no intention of trimming it down. Indeed he says he can't imagine cutting any footage- material for which he risked his very life. The story itself is fascinating, with lovely photography and plenty of illuminating interviews with all of the major players- including lengthy segments with Bhaktipada. It's clear that Young presumed the innocence of the Swami throughout much of the film. For that reason, the viewer is often left undecided about the true nature of the events at New Vrindiban. That makes it extraordinarily compelling viewing.

Bernard Coffindaffer

While driving on our nation's highways, have you ever noticed clusters of three crosses dotting the landscape? If you have ever driven through West Virgina, then you certainly have. I've been seeing them up on vistas above the road for years. Christian imagery is so pervasive in this society that I never really wondered about the origination of the clusters. I probably would have simply assumed that a large Christian denomination was erecting them. Until I saw a Jacob Young documentary (Point Man for God) about the phenomenon, I never would have imagined that all those crosses were the the result of a single man's inspiration.

Bernard Coffindaffer was born to German immigrants in Craigsville, WV in 1925*. He served a stint in the Marines in WWII, and saw action at Iwo Jima and the Okinawan Islands. He went to work in coal-washing and eventually built his own mill. He also profited greatly through the recycling of used motor oil. Coffindaffer worked hard, and he eventually became very wealthy. He also became sick from toiling too hard. He had heart surgery, and while he was in the hospital he had his sacred vision. God had given him a ministry to announce the Second Coming of Christ. This wasn't a "talking" ministry, but rather one of a wholly different sort. Coffindaffer saw three crosses- the center one was painted royal gold, and the flanking ones were powder blue. He founded "Cast Thy Bread, Inc." and began (in September of 1984) placing his clusters all over his home state. Somewhere along the line he also became a Methodist minister, and he consecrated every cluster with a ceremony. He was eventually responsible for the erection of over 1800 of these groupings over 29 states and the Phillippines. There were about 350 sets put up in West Virginia alone.

Each cluster of crosses cost Coffindaffer about $850. He spent between $2-3 million dollars on his ministry. At one point, he had seven two-man crews putting up crosses full-time. He was continually talking with owners of prospective sites, trying to persuade them to let him put his crosses up. Coffindaffer attained a sort of significant status among holly rollers in Appalachia. He hobnobbed with influential church leaders from a variety of Christian sects. But his activities did indeed meet with some resistance. One assistant city editor of the Charleston Gazette was particularly annoyed by the ubiquitous presence of the crosses. She claimed that they marred the pristine beauty of the landscape, and wondered if maybe there weren't a few others who were offended by the clusters. Apparently they were, as Coffindaffer was made irate by the destruction (by chainsaw) on some of his sacred sites. In Young's documentary, Coffindaffer can be seen blatantly threatening the lives of the perpetrators of these misdeeds. I could find no record of whether or not he ever followed through on those promises.

Bernard Coffindaffer died flat-broke in October of 1993. But evidence of his life exists all along our nation's highways. And successors have popped up to carry on Coffindaffer's mission. Sara Abraham of Vicksburg, TN, Sheldon Turrill of Mariettta, OH, and Robert Clark of Faith, NC have banded together to maintain existing clusters and to construct new ones under the name of Christian Crosses, Inc. All three partners claim to have received their marching orders directly from God. They have actually drafted letters to the owners of the properties upon which the crosses stand, asking them to maintain the clusters. The plan is eventually to place crosses every fifty miles along the nation's system of interstates. Although Coffindaffer's crosses were manufactured with wooden logs (of Douglas Fir trees) , new ones will be constructed of plastic for greater durability. God's word may be eternal, but evidently Coffindaffer's crosses were not.


EDIT 6/21/10: I ORIGINALLY FOLLOWED OTHER INTERNET SOURCES IN QUOTING HIS BIRTHDATE AS 1935, BUT AS THE COMMENTER BELOW POINTED OUT- THIS WOULD SEEM LIKE AN INCONSISTENCY GIVEN THE REPORTS THAT COFFINDAFFER SERVED IN IWO JIMA. EITHER THE MAN RECEIVED MORE VISIONS THAN WE KNEW ABOUT, OR SOMEONE DID THEIR MATH WRONG. I'M GOING TO SIDE WITH THE NY TIMES, WHO POSTED AN OBIT REPORTING MR. COFFINDAFFER DEAD AT 68 IN 1993.

THE LIBERAL PRESS STRIKES AGAIN!!

More on Jacob Young.

Just as I expected, the new Jacob Young film was both interesting and entertaining. Todd Walker (along with his "brothers" Davy and Dale) proved to be likable, amusing, and obsessive. The object that Walker suspected to be the biblical artifact of divination (the Urim and Thummin) was indeed wholly unidentifiable. As a focal point of meditation, it did have the requisite qualities to promote hallucinatory visions. Its surface (especially the interior) was both luminescent and oddly-shaped. Walker put the thing in the hands of many witnesses, and their testimony is (at least) indicative of the power of faith.

What passes for expert authority in the Appalachian communities of the film certainly made me chuckle. When Walker wants to find some especially convincing support, he turns to a two-time Jeopardy champion and the manager of the local Auto Zone. Only later does he drive to Vanderbilt University, where academics in religious studies, archeology and psychology demonstrate tremendous diplomacy and tact in meeting with him. Truth be told, it would have been quite easy for them to laugh at Walker from their "ivory towers". Perhaps Young's cameras restrain them. Nevertheless the scholars give generously of their feedback, while every established religious institution pushes Walker away. While Young claims the resistance from church leaders amazed him, I wasn't at all surprised by it. Walker's claims are a direct challenge to their perceived authority. If a bumpkin can receive a holy gift of true vision, then what does that say about the role God has bestowed upon HIS priests?

It was clear during the Q and A session that Young had great affection for his subjects. The director explained that the project was initiated because his producer and partner (Dub Cornet) had a phone number that Walker responded to numerologically. Cornet shot a bunch of video that Young was later tasked with making into a coherent film. Although Young never derived the same otherworldly experiences from the object that others had, he was sure to avoid passing judgment on the phenomena. He absolutely refused to discount Walkers' beliefs. Young pointed out that he needs to be on his subject's side if he is to make a quality documentary. And in order for his films to have any real depth, he has to convey the spirituality of the people in front of the camera. Any element of obvious skepticism would introduce a confrontation that would spoil his intentions. Young is, by his own words, inspired by people on a mission- and the more unlikely his subject is to succeed, the more interesting a subject he/she becomes.

Anyone who spends any substantial time with the works of Jacob Young will understand the purity of his intentions. But that wasn't the case with the network (CBS) executives who pulled the plug on his latest project- The Real Beverly Hillbillies. Cornet and Young had decided to update the original concept for reality television. They identified an Appalachian family (the Griffeys) and planned to install them in a genuine multi-million dollar mansion in Hollywood. The idea encountered political resistance from people who believed that the show would prove to be patronizing and exploitative. But that was never the intention of the filmmakers. It was Young's contention that all the truly negative portrayals in the original Beverly Hillbillies centered on the city sophisticates. The country-folk were shown to be caring, authentic and morally sound. Young made it a point to select a family that would be an ideal representation of Appalachia. He claims that anyone that met them couldn't help but like them.

When the project was killed, Young and Cornet felt bad that the Griffeys had been promised so much that was later snatched away. They took the money they had left from preproduction and rented a motor home to take the family cross-country. The intention was to both give the Griffey's the grand tour of America and to film a defense of the original concept. The result was a documentary called The True Adventures of the Real Beverly Hillbillies (2006). Although I haven't seen it, I expect it to be a perfect palliative to the corrosive belief that authentic regional phenomena ought to be sugar-coated or homogenized for public consumption.

In fact I'd say that what I most enjoy about Young's films is their honest depiction of a widely misunderstood region of the country. This is most evident in his Different Drummer collection. I was lucky enough to buy a rough copy of the DVD set from the man himself. I stayed up late last night watching all the episodes. Now you too can be so fortunate as to own this set. Visit the Dancing Outlaw website to purchase it and other fine products.

Jacob Young @ Film Kitchen on Tuesday, June 12th.

I know that, during the run of this blog, I've made only scant mention of West Virginian filmmaker Jacob Young. That's a bit of an egregious oversight. Young is one of the most compelling documentarians working in the United States. He's focused his efforts on presenting people and stories from his home state. Of course when you're born in the Mountaineer State (the most beautiful and enigmatic place in the Eastern United States), there is plenty of ground to cover.

Some of Young's early subjects have included Appalachian junkyard owners, the rich industrialist who plagues the land with those goddamned three crosses, the warden from the Moundsville Penitentiary, white supremacist author Dr. William Pierce (author of The Turner Diaries - a book found on Timothy McVeigh after the Oklahoma City bombing), and the swami-turned-felon of the North American headquarters of the Hare Krishnas. Young has received some well-deserved praise for his West Virginia Public TV-produced Different Drummer series, which (of course) documented the antics of a string of eccentric WV characters. One episode is about a senior citizen hussy, who dolls herself up and sings show tunes in the dives of the hollers, performing as "Amazing Dolores".

But Young has received his greatest notoriety with The Dancing Outlaw. This was a documentary about the "Last Mountain Dancer", Jesse White. This Boone County native has appropriated at least two alter egos- Elvis (The King) and Satan himself (nicknamed "Jesco"). Young presented White, his family, and his girlfriend in all their backwoods splendor. Jesco assumes center stage as he relates stories about his lamentably departed father and siblings, and his own gas-huffing, thieving, and alcohol-sodden childhood. But when he's not raising hell White plies his trade in a mix of clog and tap dancing, accompanied by bluegrass music. This was his own father's stock-in-trade, and Jesse has aspired to keep the dying art alive.

Having received his fifteen minutes of fame, Jesco later resumed his place in the spotlight when Roseanne Barr became a fan of The Dancing Outlaw. He was actually invited to Hollywood to appear on her show, and Young was along for the ride to document his adventure. All did not go as expected. Barr had Jesco removed from the set when she noticed a tattoo of a swastika on his arm. White later had the offending symbol covered up when he realized its significance. He explains that it was merely a youthful indiscretion.

It would be a more just world if Jacob Young had received as much acclaim and name recognition as Jesco. But his misfortune pays off for us tomorrow. We can actually meet him in person at Pitsburgh Filmmakers in Oakland (Melwood Street). He'll be at Film Kitchen, presenting his newest documentary- Urim and Thummim*. It's about a man named Todd Walker who bought an object at a Nashville Goodwill for 69 cents. Apparently he was pleased to discover that the thing proved to be a visual gateway to both Heaven and Hell. But evidently others were skeptical about his claims. Young followed Walker on a "witness tour" aimed at convincing the locals that the relic was a genuine and miraculous holy object.

If you are so inclined, you can chat with Jacob Young at the reception (7PM) that precedes the screening. I've spoken with him on two previous occasions, and I've found him to be both accessible and generous with his thoughts. But if you are the shy sort, stick around for the Q & A session after the film. It's sure to be illuminating.


* - Find out more about this obscure-sounding title here.