I crashed in the Haight-Asbury from late 66 to September 67. Besides hippies, musicians and bikers there were older ex-cons on the street. It seems when they got out they headed right for the Haight. They tended to be 10-15 years older than the rest of us.
One day I'm floating down Haight street and I see this older guy in Dungarees and a Dungaree jacket shaking his finger in some big kid's face. The big kid's eyes had pupils the size of a gnat's ass. Since the older guy was a bony little piss-ant I wondered why the big kid didn't just pop the little bastard. Years later after seeing pics of Manson I realized that little old fuck was The Charlie. The kid was probably Tex Watson.
My suggestion for his remains is to cremate him and flush the ashes down the toilet.