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His connection with Srila Prabhupada began at a yoga retreat in the Catskill Mountains of New York.
By Satyaraja Dasa

“The Swami has been my only true guru in life. He will always be with me.”

It was January 1967. The vigorous hippie movement in San Francisco was increasing by the day. The “Summer of Love” was only months away, and while thousands were gradually gathering in Golden Gate Park to rebel against a repressive establishment, a determined foursome were getting initiated as Vaishnavas in a nearby Frisco neighborhood. His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada had recently arrived on the West Coast for the first time, after having firmly established his movement in New York City.

Just four months earlier in New York, in September 1966, His Divine Grace had conducted ISKCON’s first initiation ceremony in the West. Now, on the other side of the country, Sam, Melanie, Harvey, and his girlfriend, Hope, young devotees who were attracted to Prabhupada and his philosophy, received Vaishnava initiation on January 21, 1967. They would now be known as Syamasundara, Malati, Haridasa, and Harsharani, respectively. Many such initiations would follow.

In its way, the initiation ceremony that day was more colorful and spectacular than the large hippie gathering in Golden Gate Park – and certainly more spiritual. The young Western followers knew very little of the traditions and Sanskrit prayers chanted by “the Swami,” as Prabhupada was called back then. And the associated paraphernalia of the ceremony – sand, sticks, flowers, ghee, sesame seeds, barley, bananas, dyed rice flour, and a small, exotic fire around which the initiates sat in a circle – would have confused them all the more. But after a short while, Prabhupada started kirtana with his hand-cymbals. And that they knew. The four young devotees got up, as did the others attending, and danced with devotion.

The ensuing years for Syamasundara and Malati are well known in ISKCON circles, involving the first Jagannatha deities in the West, the first Rathayatra, the introduction of Krishna in England, meeting the Beatles, and so on. Harsharani went on to do some direct service to Srila Prabhupada as well. But Haridasa (Harvey Cohen) remains a bit of a mystery. Who was Harvey Cohen? Prabhupada already knew him from well before the whole San Francisco episode. The local devotees were aware of that, but they didn’t know any of the particulars. What was his relationship with Srila Prabhupada, which went back even before ISKCON was founded in New York?

Years later, I read about this mysterious figure in Satsvarupa dasa Goswami’s Srila Prabhupada-lilamrita, and also in Mukunda Goswami’s Miracle on Second Avenue and Syamasundara’s Chasing Rhinos with the Swami, and while his early connection with Srila Prabhupada was clearly solid, I really wanted to know more.

And then, just a couple months ago, as if by Sri Krishna’s direct arrangement, a friend told me there was a Harvey Cohen in a New York assisted-living facility who might be the same person who helped Prabhupada in the early days. I did a little digging and unearthed the phone number.

When I called and said, “Hare Krishna,” the voice on the other end responded in kind. I knew I had found Prabhupada’s Harvey Cohen. The now ninety-three-year-old veteran of ISKCON was happy to hear from a fellow Prabhupada disciple. I asked if I could come down and talk to him, and he said, “Anything to serve the Swami’s mission.”

The Early Years

Harvey was born to Jerry and Billie (Bella) Cohen on February 9, 1931, and had one sibling, a sister, Roberta. For much of his youth, the family lived in the Flatbush area of Brooklyn, and he went to Midwood High School on Bedford Avenue. It was clear from his earliest days that art would be prominent in his life. Apropos of this, he eventually applied and was accepted to the prestigious Cooper Union on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, where he received a well-rounded art education.

From there he received a Fulbright scholarship to study fine art in Europe, which initially took him to Paris, and while there the Pollock-Krasner Foundation awarded him a further scholarship, allowing him to travel throughout Europe for his art studies. Altogether he spent eight years studying art in Spain, Italy, and elsewhere.

His grant allowed him to study in India as well, and he spent some time in Bombay (Mumbai), where his girlfriend at the time opened a t-shirt factory that focused on images of the various exotic Hindu gods, such as Shiva and Ganesha. But in 1963 he fell ill from eating street food and had to return to America.

Upon his return, he took various teaching positions at NYU, the School of Visual Arts, and elsewhere. Although he was successful in his field, he felt something missing, and a definite spiritual longing started to grow. Thus he became one of the many youthful seekers on the Lower East Side, though by this time he was in his early thirties, whereas many of his peers were at least a decade younger.

Experimenting with yoga and other spiritual modalities, and reading books that nourished his burgeoning interest in “the truth behind the truth,” he one day found himself at a yoga retreat called Ananda Ashram in the Catskill Mountains of New York. Although not particularly inclined to postural yoga, he liked the spiritual philosophy behind it. So he decided to visit regularly.

“I used to go up there on weekends, and I had my own room,” Harvey says. “But something special happened in the fall of 1965 that would change my life forever. One evening, as I sat quietly reading The Diaries of Franz Kafka, I noticed someone at my door with saffron robes. It was Swamiji, who I had seen from time to time during the talks and practices at the ashram, but who only sat quietly, chanting on his beads.”

Harvey tells his story of meeting Srila Prabhupada:

He walked in and asked me what I was reading. When I told him it was Franz Kafka, he expressed dissatisfaction. “Not so nice. You should read about Krishna. Only Krishna.” He had a cardboard suitcase with him, and he gave me his book that he had brought from India, which was in fact all about Krishna. We started talking, and he asked me why I was there at this yoga ashram. He seemed to know that I wasn’t really interested in physical yoga and that I yearned for something more. That’s when he told me that there were higher forms of yoga, and that what they were teaching at Ananda Ashram, where we met, didn’t even scratch the surface. He then explained Bhakti-yoga as the perfection of all yoga systems. He was very clear and convincing, “bhakti-yoga is the highest. It is the science of devotion to God.” He was authoritative, quoting ancient Indian scriptures. As he spoke, it seemed evident to me that he was speaking the highest truth, and somehow it seemed familiar to me, as if I’d heard it before. But I hadn’t. Really, I felt that he was looking into my soul, answering all my questions from many lifetimes without my even asking. I realized then and there, “Here is my eternal spiritual teacher.” From that moment, my only interest was in him and his mission. I made plans to see him again, soon after this incident. (Personal conversation, February 29, 2024)

The following week, Harvey started visiting Srila Prabhupada in his small studio on West 72nd Street, his temporary dwelling in New York City, and continued to regularly do so for some time. They confided in each other and spoke frankly. Sometimes they would chant together, just the two of them. Prabhupada told Harvey of his journey to New York. He conveyed to him the importance of the mission given him by his divine master, Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura, and the ancient lineage he represented; he repeatedly apprised him of the profundity of Gaudiya Vaishnavism; he spoke about his sea voyage from Calcutta, commencing in August 1965 and reaching its destination after one month on September 17. He mentioned his sponsors in Butler, Pennsylvania – Gopal and Sally Agarwal – and how kind they had been to him, giving him facility for his initial stay in the West, in early autumn.

In October, Prabhupada told him, he had left the Agarwals for New York, taking shelter of his one contact in the big city – Dr. Ramamurti S. Mishra (Sri Brahmananda Sarasvati), a renowned yoga teacher. This led to his first meeting with Harvey the very next month, as described above. Mishra was a teacher of Advaita philosophy, the impersonalist doctrine that argues against God’s personhood, Prabhupada told Harvey, Prabhupada humbly tolerated his host, only occasionally leading kirtana and speaking when invited to do so. He knew that the time wasn’t right, and so instead of trying to dominate, he sought out interested individuals, like Harvey.

The conversation was not one-sided. Prabhupada showed great interest in Harvey’s life and personal search for truth. Thus Harvey revealed his innermost thoughts, making him and Prabhupada very close.

When Harvey told Prabhupada about his many accomplishments in the art field, Prabhupada showed him an Indian print of Sri Chaitanya and His associates dancing at the home of His devotee Srivasa, which he had brought from India for personal inspiration. The artist of the print is listed as “Brojen,” aka Brojen Acharjea, as one can see from the signature in the lower right corner. Brojen was a Bengali calendar artist active in Calcutta in the 1920s–1940s. Prabhupada asked Harvey if he could make a copy of this print (something Jadurani Dasi and other ISKCON artists would do in the ensuing years), and Harvey said he would try. In Prabhupada’s diary entry dated Wednesday, March 2, 1966, we hear of Harvey’s attempt at a sketch: “Cohen brought the Samkirtan picture. There were some defects. So taken back for rectification.” Harvey was primarily a landscape artist and graphic designer, but he tried to do as Prabhupada had asked. There is no further diary entry mentioning a completed painting.

No matter. As history relates, Prabhupada would soon relocate to a downtown loft – Harvey’s loft – and this led to the founding of the first ISKCON temple in New York, at 26 Second Avenue, changing the lives of thousands. That said, Harvey was pivotal in those early days and perhaps the first devotee in the West to assist as a devotee. The Agarwals and Dr. Mishra were supportive, but it was Harvey who accepted Prabhupada “as my eternal spiritual master,” and initially proselytized on his behalf, bringing the first of Prabhupada’s committed followers to his lotus feet. We now turn to those inceptive events.

The Mission Begins

As Satsvarupa dasa Goswami writes:

[Harvey] began to describe Srila Prabhupada to some of his friends at the Paradox restaurant, at 64 East Seventh Street. It was Dr. Mishra who had given Srila Prabhupada shelter uptown, where he had at least survived, but it was through Harvey Cohen and then others from the Paradox that a whole new phase of Prabhupada’s life in America began. Young seekers began to be attracted to him [Prabhupada]. A young friend of Harvey’s named Bill Epstein, who was then in his early twenties, says his own coming to see Prabhupada was due to Harvey Cohen and the Paradox restaurant: “Harvey Cohen came to me and said, ‘I went to visit Mishra, and there’s a new svami there, and he’s really fantastic!’” (Back to Godhead, #14–06, 1979)

Bill Epstein, who was employed at the Paradox Restaurant and would bring edibles for Srila Prabhupada at his uptown studio, took his vows at the very first initiation ceremony in New York. He received the name Ravindra Svarupa Dasa (not to be confused with the later ISKCON guru and intellectual with the same name), but always attributed his involvement with Prabhupada as something that was inspired by Harvey. The same was true of Robert Nelson (eventually initiated as Jagannatha Prasada Dasa by one of Prabhupada’s disciples), who also became a regular visitor and companion for Prabhupada in the 72nd Street days. A dedicated group of interested seekers was forming around “Swamiji,” mainly due to the outreach of Harvey Cohen.

As Srila Prabhupada later recounts when doing a KGO Radio interview in 1968: “Whatever there was shortage, [Harvey] was supplying. I was getting some money by contributions in my lectures. But in the beginning my all expenditures were not sufficient collection. So the deficiency he was giving me.” In other words, Harvey helped in any way he could, and Prabhupada was deeply appreciative. Indeed, in the earliest days of ISKCON, Prabhupada listed nine “trustees” of his fledgling organization on his letterhead, used for all official correspondence, with Harvey’s name among them.

In fact, from Srila Prabhupada’s 1966 diary we learn that his movement started to really take shape that winter, and Harvey was front and center: On February 23, Srila Prabhupada established “The International Institution for God Consciousness,” a sort of precursor to ISKCON, and enrolled seven of the people attending his classes, including Harvey. It was at this time that Harvey introduced Prabhupada to David Allen (according to the diary, his name was Paul), a young seeker who was also drawn to Prabhupada as his guru. The diary further tells us that in March, Srila Prabhupada’s uptown room was plundered, with the thief taking his tape recorder, typewriter, and book bag.

After this experience, Srila Prabhupada naturally felt the need to relocate, and within days Harvey offered him his artist loft at 94 Bowery. The one stipulation was that the loft needed to be shared with David, who had signed the lease. Sharing the space with David seemed like a good idea at the time, since he was interested in Krishna conscious philosophy. In addition, Harvey and Bill Epstein had been trying to persuade Prabhupada that the downtown audience had already proved more receptive than uptown folks, and would likely embrace his philosophy with heart and soul. By April, then, Prabhupada was in the loft, and Harvey, with Prabhupada’s blessing, left for the West Coast.

The balance of that early part of the story is clear from the Lilamrita: David takes a misstep with LSD and starts to shout and threaten Prabhupada, who makes his way out of the loft. With few places to turn, he opts for making a call to Mike Grant (soon to be Mukunda Dasa, and later Mukunda Goswami), who was only several buildings away. Realizing that Prabhupada needed new living quarters and a venue from which to spread Krishna consciousness, Mike resolved to help him get properly situated. As he scanned the classified section of the Village Voice, he quickly found 26 Second Avenue, a storefront with an apartment in the rear building.

California Dreamin’

Meanwhile, soon after Srila Prabhupada was situated in his new storefront temple, for which Harvey supplied several Persian rugs and other paraphernalia to make it more homey, Harvey drives to Mendocino, a coastal community in northern California, in pursuit of a job in his field. When he arrives and gets wind of the local zeitgeist, he becomes overwhelmed by how far the hippie movement has expanded. As a result, he immediately writes Prabhupada a succession of letters explaining that the area is ready for Krishna consciousness. As Hayagriva Dasa relates in his book The Hare Krishna Explosion:

From San Francisco, Harvey Cohen writes that the West Coast is ripe for Krishna consciousness. In January, a “Gathering of the Tribes” is scheduled, and a hundred thousand are expected. Hordes of young people are flocking to San Francisco with flowers in their hair, and the word is out that a new generation is blossoming, the “Flower Children,” nurtured on LSD, supposedly attuned to expanded consciousness, and waiting, we hope, to extend this consciousness beyond drugs. . . . Harvey asks for help. He is already looking for a storefront in the Haight-Ashbury district near Golden Gate Park, an area where “it’s all happening.” Swamiji is eager. “Yes, we must go,” he says. “We will go as soon as he has found a place.” Mukunda and Janaki decide to go to India by way of the West Coast. Offering obeisances, they bid Swamiji goodbye, and as they walk out the door, Swamiji tells Mukunda, “Try to open a temple in San Francisco.” It appears that San Francisco is to be the first branch of our young devotional tree.

Mukunda and Janaki (his wife) – with the help of Sam, Melanie, Harvey, and Hope, a girlfriend of Harvey’s from Mendocino – soon find and rent a storefront, turning it into a temple modeled on 26 Second Avenue. Prabhupada is excited to come and help establish it, as well as to bless the endeavor. They make Harvey the first president of the San Francisco temple.

“In his early thirties,” Hayagriva writes, “[Harvey] is a little older than most of us. He has a short-cropped beard and sincere, inquiring blue eyes. He’s an artist from New York. Articulate, he suavely manages to keep everyone at peace – hippies, Hell’s Angels, straights, and devotees.”

Soon, when Srila Prabhupada arrives, Harvey gets initiated as Haridasa Brahmacari. It is an exciting time. He writes a poem for Back to Godhead, called “Samsara Blues” (March 1967, Vol. 1, No. 10), and, soon after, an autobiographical essay, “How I Met Swami Bhaktivedanta” (June 1967, Vol. 1, No. 13). Most importantly, perhaps, to celebrate Prabhupada’s arrival on the West Coast, Harvey works in tandem with the other devotees to plan a “Mantra-Rock” dance, which includes several of the most renowned pop entertainers of the time – everyone from Janis Joplin to the Grateful Dead. Famed poet Allen Ginsberg takes part, with Prabhupada allowing him to give a talk and lead the chanting for some time.

The dance was a “happening,” destined to become a significant, historical event, both inside the Krishna consciousness movement and outside as part of the hippie era. It took place on January 29, 1967, a mere week after the foursome mentioned above were initiated.

As for the choice of venue, the fledgling team of devotees considered both the Fillmore West auditorium and the Avalon Ballroom, both first-rate and popular concert halls, but they finally settled on the latter, mainly because the managers were sympathetic to the devotees’ goals. As his direct contribution to the concert, Harvey designed a Stanley Mouse-inspired promotional poster displaying a picture of Prabhupada – one that Prabhupada had specifically sent him for this purpose. The poster included details of the event and a request to “bring cushions, drums, bells, cymbals.”

For further promotional purposes, Mukunda published an article entitled, “The New Science,” in the San Francisco Oracle, a local underground newspaper. Part of the article reads, “The Haight-Ashbury district is soon to be honored by the presence of His Holiness, A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami, who will conduct daily classes in the Bhagavad Gita, discussions, chanting, playing instruments, and devotional dancing in a small temple in the neighborhood. . . . Swamiji’s use of the Hare Krishna Mantra is already known throughout the United States. Swamiji’s chanting and dancing is more effective than Hatha or Raja Yoga or listening to Ali Akbar Khan on acid or going to a mixed media rock dance.”

The concert was a grand success, with numerous people joining the movement as a direct result. Harvey’s poster is today a collector’s item.

Harvey, now Haridasa, continued as temple president in San Francisco for two years, at which time he was called to New Mexico, to help the devotees once again. The timing was right. He didn’t like what was going on in San Francisco. “It was becoming terribly degraded,” he says. “The Summer of Love became the Decade of Selfishness.” Harvey says that the so-called harmless experimentation of the hippies with pot and LSD devolved very quickly into heavy use of heroin and crack cocaine. This led to thievery, rape, and other crimes. “For the first time, we had to lock the temple doors, or at least watch them closely.” It became a difficult situation. “As San Francisco was once the center of peace and love, it was quickly becoming the last place anyone would want to be.”

As a result, he decided to leave, to pursue the service that had opened up for him in Santa Fe. So he drove down and introduced himself to the small team of devotees working to open a temple. While there, he also taught art at the local college. But he kept working with the temple.

“We used to drive north and collect milk from the cows in Taos, bringing it back to the temple to make preparations for the Sunday feast. That went on for a couple of years, until I was offered employment as an art teacher on the East Coast.”

“He Will Always Be With Me”

I asked Harvey how his early interactions with Srila Prabhupada informed his later life. After 1970 he was no longer a formal member of the institution, but he always “checked in,” and was concerned about how it was doing, helping out whenever he could.

“I never really left the teaching, and, really, the Swami has been my only true guru in life. He will always be with me.”

When I asked him how he has managed to keep Krishna and Prabhupada in his life through the years, he answered, “Swamiji told me to always keep Krishna in my heart, and to allow Him entrance into my life no matter where I went or what I did. And I do that to the best of my ability. I feel God’s presence; I still do. But it is not separate from Swamiji. When I think of Swami, I think of Krishna, and vice versa. They are forever interrelated in my life, and they always will be.”

I asked him to give me one tangible way that he sees Krishna in his life today. His answer touched me deeply.

“Well, even right now. I see he has come to me through you. I did some small service for the Swami some five decades back, and he never forgets it. I see that. He reciprocates. Just in the last few days, you have brought me sacred sweets, a garland from the temple, books, pictures of Krishna and the Swami, conversation about God and the meaning of life. Who needs anything more?”

Satyaraja Dasa, a disciple of Srila Prabhupada, is a BTG associate editor and founding editor of the Journal of Vaishnava Studies. He has written more than thirty books on Krishna consciousness and lives near New York City.

Source: https://btg.krishna.com/harvey-cohen-the-story-of-prabhupada's-first-follower-in-the-west/