As authors Dylan Howard and Andy Tillett explain in their book, The Last Charles Manson Tapes: Evil Lives Beyond the Grave, in the spring of 1968, the cult leader had become friendly with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson after the drummer picked up two of Manson’s acolytes thinking they were just another pair of hippie groupies. Before long, the whole family had moved into Wilson’s L.A. mansion. 

“Manson easily won Wilson over,” they write. “They bonded over music and girls, and Manson’s ability to say what others wanted to hear convinced Wilson he had found a spiritual leader, someone through whom he could achieve a certain level of enlightenment. Furthermore, the girls were more than willing to cook, clean… or do anything else the men at the mansion wanted.”

For Manson, taking up residence at Wilson’s luxury pad wasn’t just about free board and lodging. He had grander plans and saw in the pop star a chance to fulfill his own dreams of making it as a successful musician.

At first, Wilson was happy to play along. 

“Wilson indulged Manson’s musical grandiosity,” write Howard and Tillett. “He and Manson jammed together and made a few attempts at collaboration. He arranged for recording time in a Santa Monica, California, studio (which did not end well because Manson refused to take suggestions from people in the control booth). He introduced Manson to a variety of Hollywood stars and children of stars, including Rudi Altobelli, who managed some of the entertainment industry’s top talent, and producer Terry Melcher.”

If Wilson was a useful friend to have, Terry Melcher was the man who could really open doors for Manson. Born into Hollywood royalty as the son of Doris Day, he had established himself as a hitmaker in his own right by his mid-20s, producing hits for the Byrds, Paul Revere, and the Raiders, and other chart-topping Californian acts. 

Sixties L.A. may have been a fertile breeding ground for musicians, but for any wannabe to make it, a record deal was essential. Unfortunately, when Manson first played for Terry Melcher at Wilson’s house, the music producer was not immediately impressed.

“Melcher did not hear anything exceptional in those first songs,” write Howard and Tillett – and as far as he was concerned, that should have been that. “Melcher might have forgotten Manson then and there, but neither Wilson nor his protégé were going to let him. Wilson still saw himself as a springboard for his guru’s career. And Manson saw music stardom and his golden opportunity to be bigger than The Beatles.” 

The frustrated cult leader was not about to let Melcher off so easily.