by Frater Choronzon
first published in Chaos International #7 (Autumn Equinox 1989)
The time was half-past-March, the year 1968, I had been living for the past few months in a quasi- communal basement flat. It was just off Portobello Road on the junction of Westbourne Park Road and St. Lukes Road, right on the present day Notting Hill Carnival route.
Being in a central location, and adopting the sort of open-house lifestyle that was fashionable for a brief while in those heady days of "turn on, tune in and drop out", we enjoyed (or in some cases endured) a constant stream of visitors. Among these were poets, writers, musicians and social misfits, attracted partly by the Hippy Zoo curiosity value of the place, and partly by the largely harmonious perpetual party atmosphere.
One frequent caller was Graham Bond. He had built up some reputation and following as a musician during the 1960s. He was an accomplished organist and sax player with passable vocal talents, and fronted The Graham Bond Organisation, a three piece Rhythm and Blues band which featured Ginger Baker on drums before he joined Cream.
I had seen the band about two years previously when they played a gig at Farnborough Tech, and had been impressed by them; so when Graham turned up one day at the flat I was happy to make his acquaintance. The philosophies of the East and the Occult were enjoying a revival at the time, and often became an animated topic of conversation. Graham was an avid admirer of Aleister Crowley, even to the point of emulating some of his more anti-social personal habits, and it must be said that, with his charismatically powerful personality and imposing physique, a lot of people felt uncomfortable with him.
He was six foot tall, and built like a sumo wrestler, with a mane of oriental-black hair and a moustache which was less a Zapata than a Mandarin, trimmed to pencil thin tapers down the sides of his chin. He went about wearing robes and regalia which might well have been considered over-the-top as stage gear. The whole persona was that of a well wardrobed Wicked Wizard from an Aladdin pantomime, but the effect was not in any way comical.
One morning we were woken early by Graham hammering on the door in high spirits. It transpired that he had concluded a new deal with Mercury Records the evening before, and that one of their senior managers shared his occult interests. More than that, Mercury had taken a lease on a warehouse building behind Derry and Toms in Kensington High Street and they had agreed to make part of the space for Graham to use as a temple. There was some disbelief, people were always showing up at the flat with bullshit tales which turned out to be a mixture of stoned fantasy and wishful thinking.
"This is for real" he assured us "we can go right down there now and I will initiate you as Freemasons."
Without pausing Graham strode round the flat collecting up cushions, wall hangings, a censer, candles, and all the while sorting out who among those present and conscious wanted to be initiated. I think in the end it was four of us, including a young lady, but I will keep silence on their identities. Graham marshalled us out into the street and after several unsuccessful attempts (probably because of the Aladdin costume, wand etc.) managed to stop a black cab. We squeezed in, and headed off to Kensington High Street.
We candidates were starting to take the whole thing more seriously by now, not unnaturally someone raised the inconsistency inherent in initiating a female as a Freemason. Graham said that this was the inauguration of a new lodge, and that our companion would be the first woman in history to be admitted to the mysteries of Masonry. He appeared so knowledgeable and authorative in these matters that debate was stifled, I cannot recall anyone querying his credentials to conduct such a ritual, we just treated it as a "happening" and something exciting to do.
The warehouse was an unremarkable building, and we were almost surprised that Graham had the keys and was able to gain immediate entry. We were led up to the first floor and into an empty space, quite large say 10 by 20 metres. There was a tea chest, by way of an altar, at one end, and there were small banners, which may well have been Masonic, fixed to the walls. Graham set us to work placing cushions for the various stations, and lit a black and a white candle on either side of the tea chest which were to stand for the Pillars of the Temple.
We were assigned to the various stations and Graham began a solo performance with much drawing of sigils in the air, punctuated with barbarous utterances and accompanied by copious quantities of incense. In retrospect I surmise that this was an idiosyncratic version of Crowley's Star Ruby banishing, followed by Liber Resh, the adoration of the sun.
He called us forward to the Altar one by one and demonstrated various grips, signs and passwords which we were sworn to keep secret.
At the time I was a little puzzled because the proceedings bore little resemblance to the dramat- ised rituals I had seen a few years earlier on BBC television when an early 'Panorama' reconstructed some Masonic rituals. The grip did concur, however, with one I had been shown some years earlier by my father (a non-mason).
I do not recall any ritual names being taken, or any hoodwinks or rolled up trouser legs, neither was any documentation of the event provided; and I must admit that I have never sought to have the Admission at that time ratified by the heirarchy in Great Queen Street.
The most likely thing is that Graham was play-acting to impress. The ritual was a hotch-potch of Thelemic and Golden Dawn stuff, with perhaps a little Masonry thrown in, and although it was quite impressive, I do not think any of the "Initiates" regarded it as valid.
To this day I regard the event as the starting point of my own magical career, and with twenty one years having passed, the tale is worth telling. I don't think it gives much clue as to Graham Bond's magical pedigree, he may have been a Grand Lodge Mason, equally he could have been a practitioner of the Masonic Rite of Misraim and Memphis (as various splinters of the OTO are entitled to style them- selves), or he might have just memorised it out of a book!
Sadly the initiation ritual was not to be the inauguration of an on-going magical group. Graham's lifestyle got the better of him and the record company (or his management) shipped him off to a health farm in an attempt to unburden him of a destructive and anti-social habit, and before his return we flatsharers had gone our seperate ways.
I saw him once more, in 1970, at a gig in a pub in Kingston-on Thames with a new band; the line-up that made the Holy Magic album. Soon afterwards he was tragically killed when he fell in front of a tube train. I have not seen an objective account of the circumstances, but aural tradition has it that he appeared to be struggling with some unseen force, and magical attack has been the subject of specula- tion.
By my hand in the acknowledgement of a fine start in life,
Sol in Pisces 1989 ev,
Choronzon 999.