Keeping Up with Yogiji
Jan 20th, 2007 by Shakti Parwha Kaur
Tales from Yogiji’s first "student"
When I finished my breakfast shift as a waitress at the Beverly Hilton I changed out of my multi colored striped uniform (red, blue, orange, yellow, violet) and rushed home to make a big salad for the yogi. He was living in Mr. Thrapp’s apartment building on Ninth Street, across from the East West Cultural Center where he taught Kundalini Yoga classes in the Arts building (a converted garage) on Sunday afternoons. He also was teaching at YMCA’s that we had contacted to set up classes (Alhambra and North Valley). Believe it or not, in those early days, he would never ask for food. He only ate whatever someone provided for him.
One day all the restaurants nearby were closed for some holiday, Dr. Tyberg had gone out of town, and the refrigerator was locked! Mario, one of the men associated with the East-West Cultural Center told Yogi Bhajan that it would seem he would simply have to go hungry that day. Yogiji told him his Guru would take care of him and he took a nap, only to be awakened by someone knocking loudly on the door of the EWCC. It was Mrs. Haeckel (wife of an elderly German man who was a regular attendee at EWCC.) She had driven all the way down from Santa Barbara to bring the Yogi food! Such were those early days!
It was 1968, December, and Yogi Bhajan was cooking lunch for Dr. Judith Tyberg in her kitchen at the EWCC, when he told me that he has this vision (though he pronounced it “wision”) of a “3etch o” organization. He went on to say that I would be the mother of the Healthy, Happy, Holy Organization.
“No thanks,” I said. “I’ve already raised my son. I don’t want any more responsibility, and furthermore I don’t like organizations.” Little did I know what the future would hold, and what an honor he was giving me!
When I took him out to eat it would be at the Ontra Cafeteria on Vermont Avenue near the EWCC, or some coffee shop. These were humble beginnings. One of the first things he taught me was to pray before eating anything. Sometimes he would say out loud some simple unpretentious prayer, like “Thank you God, we were hungry, and you’re feeding us.” Sometimes it would be silent, but if I didn’t say my own silent prayer, he would tell me I had forgotten to pray!
I cooked for him (mostly steamed zucchini, which I think he really didn’t like) on a hot plate in Mr. Thrapp’s apartment, and washed the dishes in the bathroom sink. One evening Dr. Tyberg and he and I had been somewhere near the neighborhood where I lived in West LA and we went to my apartment to get something to eat. I was at a loss. I am not a cook! Yogi Bhajan went into the kitchen, pulled out a bunch of things from cupboards and the refrigerator, along with various spices, and put together something delicious. He told me the secret of cooking was to use whatever you have and to chant while you cook. He soon became famous (or infamous) for whipping up the most spicy, inimitable concoctions that could raise the dead – and actually seemed to have a beneficial effect, after your taste buds got over the initial shock and calmed down.
He never would eat alone and if he was invited to anyone’s house for a meal he would invariably bring along at least two or three or ten other people! He was horrified when one host tried to limit the number of guests because of seating capacity at his table.
American food was obviously not very satisfying for him and I remember him not eating a papaya until he had smothered it in honey. But whatever was given to him, he never complained. In fact for the first few years, he just didn’t complain about anything. I used to tell him that he needed to screen all the phone calls that came and that he should not agree to every demand made upon him. I tried to explain that in the USA, especially among the young kids (who made up 99.44 percent of his students), there was no understanding of respect for a teacher, much less any reverence. They would casually take food off his plate when we were eating at the many picnics that first spring and summer.
When I met him I was still eating eggs, though I considered myself a vegetarian. One morning at breakfast at Denny’s I ordered pancakes with a fried egg. “Why not get two eggs?” he said to me. One fateful day he scrambled eggs for me in my kitchen and put in so much salt that I could barely eat them. I never ate eggs again. He obviously understood my psychology, i.e. “Nobody’s going to tell me what to do!” He taught that after age 35, the yogis say, “don’t eat salt.”
He gave us lots of recipes. (I still have the original Yogi Tea recipe he gave me locked in a safe deposit box.): Kitcheree, Golden Milk, Ginger Tea. He talked about garlic and onions and ginger and, of course, turmeric.
The Yogi’s classes were attended by droves of long-haired young “flower children.” He explained about the benefits and importance of letting the hair grow and never cutting it. Yet he would mention to me periodically, “Don’t you think you need a haircut?” At that time my curly black hair was extremely short and easy to take care of that way. Sometimes I’d just go to a regular barber, not a beauty salon, because my hair was kept so short. However, after listening to all of the teachings about the value of hair, I decided to let mine grow. Then it reached that stage where “you can’t do anything with it.” So I had it cut again, only this time I felt the difference! It felt awful! After that, I never cut it again.
Yogi Bhajan had been told by the pundits in India that, if he left as planned, he would have a really hard time in the West. Sure enough, after a miserable time in Canada, even after coming to the United States, he was “thrown out” of several residences. He first came to Los Angeles as the guest of a dentist in Baldwin Hills, a Dr. Marwha and his wife. The yogi upset his hosts by sleeping on the floor and making an altar out of his bed. They asked him to leave. Not too long after that, five of his students (including me) decided to rent him an apartment, which we did, at Mr. Thrapp’s building. We each paid ten dollars a month to meet the $50 monthly rent.
In a few months, after Dr. Tyberg withdrew her sponsorship (she was upset by too many hippies descending upon her EWCC in busses). He was invited to live at Jules Buccieri’s house in West Hollywood. Eventually, Jules himself moved out and left the house to the Yogi.
Finally in 1972, Yogi Bhajan had earned enough money from his teaching travels to buy the property at 1620 Preuss Road. (Even there, he lived in the garage!) Students agreed to pay $10 a month to cover mortgage payments – since classes were held there. Sadly, most of them did not pay. A couple of years later he bought the house at 1905 Preuss Road which became the first “Guru Ram Das Estate” in America.
Dear Shakati - how lovely; I wish you could go on writing forever…those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end.
Thank you so much jio for sharing your stories of those very early days - please write more - don’t let them be forgotten! Wahe Guru!
Thank you Shakti I wish you could write us more. It is wonderful for us who were blessed to meet Yogi B
; but also for our students who want to hear stories. Thank you again
I am new to Kundalini (1 year in), but enjoy very much your stories.
Thank you so much,
Max K. Bozeman
It was very humbling to read this story I am a Kundalini instructor and I just opened a small Studio in New Haven CT.
It was definitely humbling and encouraging to read about the earlier days of Yogi Bhajan.
You’re the Mom all right… it’s good to remember how we got to be here… so many people came with us… Now and then I run into an old friend from those days and I realize how much it changed us and how much has happened to us all. Keep Up the writing ,
love ,
Siri Chand
Thank you for so freely sharing these wonderful stories. I hope more people from the early days write their stories; it would be so sad to lose them.
Precious, beautiful, beloved and adorable Shakti. Do you know how much I love and treasure you? I am soon to tell the story of how I fell in love with you that very first day when JC carried me over in full lotus to Mr. Trapp’s and YogiJi “brought me back.” You thought I was mute and with full sincerity you put your face so close to mine and said quite loudly, “Would you like some tea?” You are forever a bubbling fountain of love and delight. Much love & Sat Nam, Ganga.
Shakti,
I was only 17 years old in Vancouver. There I saw the biased feeling within the Canadian Sikh community regarding Yogi jis overall personality. The resentment came mainly because of dialect diferrences. This was in 1974. However, I have now seen a remarkable change within the Sikh community; the difference being we are now open to a learning and understanding process. We are slowly coming out of our thinking nutshell.
I noticed the reference to Warren Stagg and HELP restaurant. I was part of the HELP restaurant "commune" from 1975-1977 (It had moved to Sunset Blvd. by then).
Does anyone know what ever happened to any of these people? Someone said they moved the operation to India. Is this true?
Ah, the good old days, wearing Yoga clothes, reading Rajneesh, and serving veggie-burgers!
its very interesting and encouraging to read nostalgic stories of the way sikhi changes lives.
shakti ji thank you very much for posting this .
H-ealth
thru
E-ducation
creates
L-ove
that manifests
P-peace
I beg to differ with on one point. I worked at H.E.L.P. starting as a dishwasher, juice & desert maker, busboy and finally a waiter. Warren “PAID” all his staff and we made teriific tips.
It was the owner of the “SOURCE” that did not pay his staff and ripped them all off.
Waiters at H.E.L.P. would split the tips 1/3 or better to the busboys and 2/3’s or less for the waiters, depending on well we did that shift. We became excellent waiter and bus staff.
I stiil think his use of one busboy to each waiter is a model that should be used by all resturants. As this really maximizes the service people get.
Warren has had great impact on my life, I miss him and all that those wonderful people that worked at H.E.L.P. and those of us that worked & lived together.
As for your large party, all making substitutions… well, that is totaly unacceptable. H.E.L.P. had the “BEST MENU” and the BEST HEALTH FOOD” to this day!
It’s was a resturant…it was never meant to cook speacially prepared meals to a large number of customers. Get real!!!
If you were cooking dinner for all those people I don’t think you would cook them all individually prepared meals either!
Warren was eventually put out of business by the IRS (i was there)…When his CPA & bookkeeper (they were married) ran off with all the TAX monies that were owed to the IRS by the resturant and everyone that worked there. They cleaned out their office in the back, as if no one had ever used that space ( I saw it myself). Empty desks, empty file cabinets, everything gone. Supposedly they ran off to South America. I hope by now they have been brought to justice. They cost a lot of very nice people their jobs and livelyhood, and the end of the worlds “Greatest” health food resturant!
I worked for Warren Stagg at the original H.E.L.P. location, 3rd & Fairfax. I also lived with several others that worked there too, a two story house just off of 3rd St. near western. I’d love to know where some of the others are today.
Hi Gary Greenwood!
I know Dr.Warren Stagg.He is my teacher in Precision muscle testing and my Mentor in Science of Metaphysics.
I am from India and has been my great fortune to have met him.
thanks Gary for putting him on your blog and about his HELP restaurant.
Regards
Vivek
vivekbaba007@gmail.com
Hi Gary,
I also was a waiter at H.E.L.P. on 3rd and lived at the house on Serrano. My wife, Eva and I shared a large room at the top of the house for awhile. At that time (around ‘69 and ‘70) a guy known as “Freedom” was, more or less, running the house. Remember him? Lived in his van with his dog Hurdy-Gurdy.
I don’t recall much about the other folks there but many of us worked at HELP. I remember there was a huge Hammond organ, with whirling Leslie speakers, in the living room and some of those cats were working with Dr. John on his “Gumbo” album.
I moved over to HELP after having worked at the Source on the Strip. The owner there, Jim Baker, thought he was a guru and required everyone to wear white. Not really practical when one is operating a carrot juicing machine. When the dictate came down that all staff must start wearing turbans, I split and was hired at HELP. Eventually, several of my friends from Florida joined the staff too. Dennis Iannaci, who became the manager, Martin Marcus, Tommy Maguire and Jim Countryman. We all eventually ended up back in St. Petersburg. While at HELP, much of the Floridia contingent became Satsangis (followers of the guru Charan Singh) and most still follow that path to this day. I became a Buddhist instead. Dennis died of Leukemia in 1995. Jim died a few years ago. Martin is a successful Chiropractor in St. Pete.
I wish I could remember more of the people who worked at HELP and/or lived at the Serrano house but many memories have faded.
I certianly have many cherished memories of being at HELP when George Harrison came in with Ravi Shankar, Peter Asher and Linda Ronstadt. I once served Miles Davis (major thrill for a jazz fan) and, of course many regulars like Dennis Weaver, Rambilin’ Jack Elliot and Brian Wilson. Buddy Miles, would call in take out orders and roar to the kitchen door on his giant Harley to pick up his dinner. Many of the celebs (and others) were recipients of Warren’s infamous and excrutiating foot massages. I also remember many spiritual celebrities being on the scene including Yogi Bhajan, Swamis Satchidananda and Muktananda and I vividly recall when Satya Sai Baba (the future incense magnate) borrowed and then totalled Warren’s Mercedes. Sai Baba claimed he couldn’t be held responsible because he was God. (Warren wasn’t buying it.)
We probably knew each other at the time, Gary, but time and lots of acid have wiped clean much of the memory slate. It would be nice to hear from you or anyone who recalls that scene or was around then.
Health, Education, Love and Peace, Ya’ll.
Tom
I worked at H.E.L.P. on Suntet Blvd., after they had the place on 3rd. Does anyone here recall that location and group of folks? (Cal, Rinda, Arthur, Pontiac, Slim, Cowboy, etc)
This was around 1976-1978.
Tom P.,
I’ve been trying to get in touch with a Dennis Iannaci from the Largo, FL area…any idea how to get in touch?
Thanks much
Hi H.E.L.P. Alumni,
I too, worked at HELP, not as a waiter, but in the kitchen, making food. I probably only worked there for a total of 3 months or so. One of the fixtures in the kitchen that I often worked with was James Stewart, who later continued with The Golden Temple of Conscious Cookery…at the same location on 3rd St, as a student of Yogi Bhajan, along with his then wife, Susan. James had been a fruitarian while I was working at HELP…his health wasn’t so well benefited by the diet…Yogi’s nutritional directions probably benefited him.
As for myself, I was entrenched with macrobiotic diet at the time, (which for me, placed HELP as a “much-too-yin” food producer…such was the diversity of food politics, even, of those days). Therefore, I convinced Warren Stagg to let me make macrobiotic (unleavened, naturally fermented/soured) bread in the on-site bakery that HELP also spawned. Accordingly, Warren nicknamed me Macrobiotic Mark…
As mentioned, I worked but a short time there, and was not socially involved with staff members there, other than during working hours. I was also employed at a macrobiotic restaurant in the San Fernando Valley…Studio City, on Ventura Blvd., called Earth Food Inn, located above the famous Vince’s Gym. So working two restaurant cooking gigs kept me rather busy…hence the short term at HELP…and besides, macrobiotics was sort of it’s own religion, so I was not so inclined too involve myself with the many yogis which Warren was so
instrumental (and generous) in showcasing, including (as I recall) Yogi Bhajan. Also Swamis Satchidananda and Muktananda, and Sai Baba. Note–Warren was rather intense and independently-minded, so he seemed resolved to freely introduce all these folks via the celebrity he, his partner/wife Jo–whose recipes were the spine of the
HELP kitchen & bakery–acquired from the remarkable success of the restaurant they had created. It was after all, a rather complimentary factor–having all these gurus affiliated with Warren, Jo, & HELP. Warren was quite contented and secure in his own future, as I imagine the restaurant was bringing in significant wealth along with promise of future enterprises which, no doubt, Warren had planned.
Alas, Warren, as heavy and imposing a personality as was, had perhaps lacked managerial skills requisite to making the whole thing work…he was a typical entrepreneur, and wound up imperiled with the IRS, as mentioned in one of the comments here by Tom Parkinson.
A shame, really, as he and Jo never really recovered the success, celebrity and wealth that the original HELP operation had provided them. The move to Sunset Blvd. did not materialize the previous success nor future plans that Warren harbored, it seems.
I did make contact with Warren several years ago, reaching him by phone at his home in Pune, India, where he currently (I think) teaches and resides. Here’s a url which informs of his activities there:
http://www.ajnacenter.org/about%20us.htm
I too, was involved with Buddhism (Zen) as a result of the “Zen” Macrobiotic Diet…not really much zen practice there, but I chased that aspect of the name…visiting Tasajara Zen Center and Suzuki Roshi, and then joining the LA Zen Center with Taezan Maizumi Roshi…for a while, anyway. I continued with Earth Food Inn, where my brother Barry and another friend bought it from the previous owner/creator…and the restaurant became vegetarian, rather than
macrobiotic. A year or so after my brother sold Earth Food Inn, I started Naked Lunch Restaurant and Catering just down the road a click, and worked that until closing it, four years later…by 1976. So I never got around to visiting Warren’s new HELP location but a few brief visits…just to pay respects.
There was much fuss made about The Source Restaurant, also on Sunset Blvd, but in a much more favorable location–the heart of the “Strip”. However, the food never came close to what Warren and Jo had achieved with the cuisine at HELP…there one could enjoy a variety of raw foods, albeit plainly served up in the way of vegetable salads, raw vegetable plates, fruit salads, and fresh raw juices of fruits, vegetables, & blends…but nothing fancy such as contemporary vegan digs are serving these days…and an especially sumptuous menu of cooked vegetarian dishes were offered and in considerable variety. I didn’t eat much of this, as I was trying to stay on the macrobiotic diet…although, owing to my protein deficiency, and reliance on high-carb foods, I was prone to binging on the bakery sweets which were so abundantly about from the bakery…and where I was busy baking macrobiotic breads a few times a week. I was essentially a vegetarian macrobiotic at the time…any lacto-ovo foods were consumed in the manner of the bakery items at HELP…also loaded with sugar (brown, but still sugar) and honey (as I’ve learned this was a particularly disastrous dietary path for me…as I do best with a low carbohydrate, high fat and protein intake…with raw: eggs, dairy, fish, meats, vegetable, fruits, & nuts…which took about another thirty-five years for me to involve myself with, although I had flirted with and understood the need for raw foods (including dairy, eggs, & flesh foods) for years. HELP also carried raw dairy from Alta Dena Dairy at the time.
As I look back at all the “health-restaurants” I’ve encountered both in San Francisco and here in LA/So. Cal–Jim Baker of The Source also created the Aware Inn, which was actually better food than The Source, as far as being a grounded and sumptuous restaurant–and dining experience. HELP was also a fun spot, as intoned by Tom’s post. Yes, I used to see Brian Wilson come up to the back door of the kitchen to pick up food he’d ordered…only he didn’t have to pay for it often enough, as the then kitchen manager, Robert seemed to also be involved in the music industry. And Miles Davis did used to eat there as he had become a vegetarian…to try and shore up all the maladies his addictions had conjured for him. As a matter of fact, Jo would make special vegetarian tamales that weren’t a regular on their menu…a special recipe she would make just to suit Miles’ tastes.
After having attended a show of Miles’–my first, long anticipated attendance at a gig of his–wherein Miles (as he was well-known to do) played but a few notes, and then handing the rest of the set off to his side-men (Wayne Shorter, Chick Correa, Dave Holland, & Jack DeJohnetteetc, as I recall), having spotted a gorgeous red-head in the audience, joined her there, and left, not to return for the balance of the set…until the very end…and it was the final set of the evening on the final night of his enagement at Shelley’s Manne Hole. I would have made it there the previous night, but I had accidentally slit my hand deeply enough to require a visit to the emergency room that previous Saturday night.
I had been planning to see Miles at this particular juncture/venue and was cleaning up my area in the HELP kitchen. Last call for food had been made, but one of the peskier waiters there, an aspiring young blonde actor, insisted I take yet another order. I refused, but he summoned Warren and implored, so Warren came back and ordered me to make whatever had been ordered, despite my pleas to attend the Miles show for which there was a long waiting line, which I wanted to make sure and catch early enough to gain entry. The waiter, who I remember with the name of Dennis, laughed tauntingly at me. Robert, the kitchen manager was inclined towards letting me go on time, but the point was now moot–if I still wanted my job. So with James sitting next to me having just visited the kitchen to fetch some fruit to munch on, I thrust the serrated knife I was wielding into the cutting board before me (in mock-assault on the now more-than-just-annoying waiter). Unfortunately my hand was wet and slipped on down the handle onto the blade, opening a nasty little gash on the fleshy right-side of my right palm. So I went to the hospital for stitches, instead of the show at Shelley’s that night.
Not that Miles’ show wasn’t a memorable musical experience, what with his “side-men”, but nevertheless, I heard but few fabled notes of his own played in his inimitable style (which wasn’t so many notes as his contemporaries were wont to cascade). But this was plainly stingy and I felt, well, cheated, to be honest. I didn’t come to witness his renowned way with women of all races, but to hear him blow…and for me, he rather sucked, therefore.
So next day, when I arrived to begin work at HELP, I promptly visited the refrigerator where there was the special dish of tamales set aside by Jo, especially for Miles–complete with a note that declared it’s rightful ownership as that of Miles Davis–which I promptly shoveled
down like it was the first meal I’d had in days. It tasted particularly wonderful, not only because it was more seasoned than the typical macrobiotic fare I was then involved in preparing and eating. but because it was the taste of revenge…upon none other than the enigmatic and imimitable jazz great Miles Dewey Davis (III). I was sure not to let others see me consume this forbidden fare, nor did I boast about it to other workers at HELP, as I wished to settle the score between me and Miles, yet also wanted to continue working at HELP. Therefore, I did not accord myself the satisfaction of admitting to the act of pillaging the tabooed tamales of Miles…letting him to eat “cake” as it were. Jo was enraged, too, determined to find the culprit. I did so want to confess, but only to Miles himself, which was not possible…so I could only relate this story to a few friends who were jazz fans, outside of HELP Restaurant.
As I recall Warren issued me walking papers a month or so later anyway…for what I can’t remember, but I was getting too worn out as it was with the two jobs.
HELP definitely yet remains as one of the greatest vegetarian restaurants of all time, in my humble opinion. Had they had their location on Sunset-the Strip area–near where Jim Baker located all of
his successful ventures, they’d quite probably have continued their reign as the leading vegetarian/health food restaurant in LA…or the country and world, for that matter.
Mark
WARREN was a Wonderful person..in the late 60’s or early 70’s i was a road weary traveller from TORONTO,CANADA, hanging uot at the L.A. free clinic looking for work..he hired me for a moving job, & seemed to like me well enough to pay me cash working inthe kitchen.i had no papers so could not cash a check…I particularily remember his wife/ girlfriend w/red hair..he or they were on as fast and he wore a blue jumpsuit….First Health FOOD I EVER ATE{he would not hear of me having A BLT..HAD to be bacon bits, avocado & lettuce,ON whole grain..NEVER FORGET HIM!!!!!! WHERE IS HE ?
Warren has emailed me a couple of times over the years with comments and corrections to this blog. So, he probably checks this once in a while. I will be happy to give him your email info in case he contacts me again, if he is interested in connecting with any old time “HELP” folks.