My Favorite Bands

Just a short snippet as I tried to describe my feelings about the bands.

Of all the bands my favorite bill was The Grateful Dead, Big Brother and Quicksilver.  The Airplane seemed aloof, although Grace’s voice was very powerful and Jorma’s guitar work simply phenomenal.  The Dead were an evening unto themselves, never quite comprehensible unless you were on acid.  They were the ultimate acid band, explained only in the most arcane metaphors, never verbal, never predictable and yet always a comfort on the long journey out and the perilous one back.  Competent is the word that comes to mind.  Of all the bands, the Dead were the ones who connected most closely with the audience.   They never translated to recordings and never lent themselves to pigeonholing.  They were the unspeakable epitome of what was going on.

And then there was Big Brother.  Big Brother had Sam Andrews, Dave Getz, the sleek and skeletal James Gurley and, of course, Janis.  In the twisting and winding of those psychedelic melodies, maudlin meanderings and stringed journeys into the night, Janis was rock solid, gutsy blues, heavy hearted, heavy handed, spilling her guts out over the audience and into the ether world, galaxies away, light-years gone.  Her music reached right down inside your bowels and wrenched something in you as she gripped the mike stand in one hand and turned herself inside out, contorting and writhing, sweating and crying, for you, reaching out, thrashing, hair flying with every fiber of her being.  She didn't just sing a song or belt one out, she was the song, she got right down inside of it and became it, vibrato, whining and wailing, balls to the wall.  Her voice was like no other I have ever heard, before or since and when someone sings her songs today, no matter how sincere, I have to turn away and I cannot watch, I cannot listen because I saw her do this and do it the best, not once, but time and time again.  It wasn't a happenstance of the odd good night, a rare good performance, nor was it the Acid Trick, it was consistently what it was, raw meat to the lions, raw flesh, voice flayed, soul flayed wave after wave slapping you in the face with the vibrations of her heart, again and again and again.  That's rock 'n' roll, that's sex and drugs, that's soul, that's art.

The Houseboat

Across the Golden Gate Bridge in Sausalito, a whole other world unfolded.  It was almost always sunny and hot.  There was a lively arts scene and rich hippies bought property in Marin County early on.  Off the grubby fog encrusted streets of the Haight was a whole new world.

Teddy and John lurked around Kendalhang, coming and going, bringing people to meet Eddie, contributing to the upkeep of the flat.  I knew that their business was dealing dope and that meant that Eddie had to be some sort of supplier.  It didn’t matter.  In fact, it meant that we had regular meals and the rent was always paid.  As far as communes went, Kendalhang was discreet.  It wasn’t noisy.  We never had loud parties.  No drunk or freaked out drug crazies running up and down the stairs, it was just a nice flat with a lot of people living there.  We knew that this was technically illegal in 1967, but no one complained because everyone lived in these loose, fluid arrangements.  My problem was that I shared a room with two other people and I longed for some privacy.

Teddy and John seldom spent the night at Kendalhang.  Teddy lived across the Bay in Sausalito on a houseboat at Gate 5.  John had a sporadic job on the railroad and lived in a small apartment in a giant rambling Victorian apartment house on California and Fillmore in the cheap rent part of Pacific Heights.  One evening Teddy asked me if I wanted to come and stay with him. 

I jumped at the chance to get out of the Haight.  Teddy was handsome.  He was a successful dope dealer and had lots of money.  He was nice to me.  The houseboat sounded very romantic, like an exotic escape from the tension and bustle of the City.  It would be a luxury to have my own room, to sit in the sun on the deck of the houseboat, no fog, no noise.  It was always warm in Sausalito. 

I packed up my few belongings and followed Teddy one afternoon.  Eddie stood at the top of the long stairway with his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown.

“Sally, you always have a place here.  Remember that.”

I looked up and smiled.  I had a little twinge of regret as I closed the door and hopped in Teddy’s red MG convertible.  As we drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, I leaned my head back and looked up at the orange girders that disappeared into the fog that was rolling in over San Francisco Bay.  Halfway across the bridge the fog curtain lifted revealing a brilliant blue sky.  Heat enveloped the car and I turned to Teddy.

“It’s a sign, a good omen.” I saw the outline of a smile around Teddy’s mouth.

The houseboat wasn’t as funky as I thought it might be considering what I knew about men keeping house.  Maybe dope dealers kept women around to do that for them, cook, clean house, make beds, like hippie maids.  Was that what I was supposed to do for Teddy?  It didn’t look like he needed a maid. 

I discovered that Teddy actually cleaned his own house. He also kept food in the cupboards and clean sheets on the bed.  There was no second bedroom, nothing but a nice couch in the front room.  But I pushed the sleeping arrangements to the back of my mind and made a place for myself and my bags in a corner of the living room.  Teddy was on already on the phone doing business. 

When he hung up, he turned around to me, “I have to split.  I’ll be back soon.  There’s the stereo and don’t answer the phone.  Dig?”

“Yeah, sure, groovy.  I’ll just hang out until you’re done.  Do you want me to do anything?  Should I cook?”

“No.  Just chill out until I get back.  Oh, the dope tray is in that bottom cabinet by the bed.”

He grabbed his keys and took off.  I took the tray out of the cabinet and rolled a joint.  A sliding glass door led to the little deck that ran along the side of the houseboat.  I sat in a deck chair and watched the sun set over the bay.  The island of Tiburon and the Oakland Bay Bridge were in the distance.  The lights looked like strings of diamonds, a little psychedelic, kind of sparkly, as I got higher.  The fog fell over the edges of the hills and as it reached the lights, they shattered into prisms of colors on the drops of salt water.  A damp chill settled in so I went inside and pulled a book out of my bag, grabbed a bag of Fritos from the cupboard and lay on the couch reading until I fell asleep.  I woke up long enough to grab a blanket and tuck it around me.  I didn’t hear Teddy come in that night. 

Teddy spent his time on the telephone making connections and doing business.  We never connected.  Sleeping with him turned out to be just that, sleeping.  He took a lot of speed and stayed up all night, either on the houseboat or out.  I think the speed made him indifferent, or impotent.  I knew about that.  But he was tidy, and clean, and very very quiet, so I never flirted and we seldom had long conversations.  I read a lot.

One afternoon, Teddy drove me in to Sausalito to have sashimi at the Trident.  It was my first ever experience with raw fish.  Teddy carefully showed me how to eat sushi and sashimi, pouring the soy sauce into little dishes and dipping a slice of tuna then placing it in my mouth.  He laughed at my surprise in the taste and approved when I realized I enjoyed the new experience.  I loved the Trident.  It was right on the mudflats, with broad decks and lots of very hip people drinking cocktails.  The super fashionable waitresses called Teddy by name and buzzed around him like bees around a particularly juicy flower.  It made me feel special to be the lady on his arm.

Teddy also took me shopping at a very hip little boutique in town.  He bought me a new outfit; suede mini skirt, and a paisley body suit, the newest thing, that zipped up the front.  With my knee high Italian boots and short bob, I felt the equal of any weekend hippie around.  But by the end of the week, I was restless.  I didn’t love Teddy and found that I didn’t even really like him that much.  There was no sex, and while that was okay all things considered, I felt kept and purposeless.  There was no one to talk to, no Haight Street excursions to amuse me.  It was too far to walk into town from Gate 5, and I ran out of books.  I was an ornament on Teddy’s arm, but there was no real connection. 

The next time Teddy got ready to drive into the City, I took my bag of belongings and got in the car.

“What’s this? What’s the deal?”  Teddy looked confused.

“I don’t think I want to be here.  It just doesn’t feel right.  I’m bored.”

“Well, do something.  I mean, I have money, you can do whatever you want.”  He was almost pleading with me, and I was confused because his indifference made me feel like it didn’t matter much to him what I did.

“I want to go back to the City.”  Now I felt guilty.

“Fuck.”  Teddy slammed the car into gear and we took off.  The trip back across the Bay was accomplished in silence.  We hit the fog bank halfway across the bridge and it seemed fitting that he drop me off in a damp, drizzly afternoon in front of Kendalhang.  As he drove off, I was so relieved.  I didn’t want to make a scene.  I just wanted to split and to do it fast.  I rang the buzzer and Eddie stood at the top of the stairs.  It felt like he hadn’t moved since I walked out.  As I took my bag down the hall to Nancy’s room, he patted me on the back.

Nancy was delighted to see me.  “Cool!  Hey, wanna go to the park?  We’re going to take pictures this afternoon.”  She hugged me.  It was like I’d never been gone.

If Nancy was curious about my stay with Teddy, I wasn’t talking. Things were changing. Teddy still came and went, but we treated each other just the way we always had.  I was surprised he didn’t hold it against me.  But when John asked if I wanted to come and stay with him I was smart enough to say no. 

The Human Be-In

This is an excerpt and a little different than what is in the book.

January 14th, 1967

January 14^th finally arrived.  I dressed in my splendid outfit and walked to the Polo field in Golden Gate Park with the Beatnik Gangleader at my side.  We stood on the rim of the Polo Field looking out.  Before us was a sea of freaks stretching from one side of the giant bowl to the other.  As we pushed through the crowd of people, moving toward the middle, the electric buzz of acid sizzled through the perfume of pot smoke lying in a low cloud over the field.  A little man in a white jumpsuit, crazy hat and goggles appeared in front of me and dumped a handful of small white tablets in my hand. 

"White Lightning.  Pass them along." 

The sssss of the word pass sizzled behind him as he pulled his goggles down and winked, disappearing into the crowd.  The rain from the week before evaporated into the marijuana haze as the sun worked its way up the sky.  From the cosmic buzz of thousands of people, a low hum merged into a chant to the raise the sun.  I popped a tablet into my mouth, gave one to Jeffrey, and handed the rest of them out.

We wandered around, looking at one another.  People sat on the shoulders of others to get a look at the crowd.  Instead of anxiety, there was a low current of expectation.  Joints circulated freely from group to group.  Allen Ginsberg, clad in white with flowers in his hair sat on the stage next to Gary Snyder and Timothy Leary, banging away at two large hand held cymbals, chanting “Hare Om Namo Shiva” like some pop song from the radio.  As Country Joe and the Fish started playing, people near the front of the stage began to dance.  Ginsberg abandoned his seat and jumped down gyrating wildly with the dancers.  Dogs wandered through the crowd sporting collars of bandanas and eucalyptus buttons.  Knots of revelers staked out places on the grass with blankets and baskets of food.  Guitars, tambourines, drums, all kinds of percussion instruments broke into impromptu jams.  And everywhere people moved in the sun, their arms whirling windmills, their hands tracing acid trails in the air. 

I turned to Jeffrey, “What are we supposed to do?’

“Nothing.  Nothing at all.”

Suddenly, I felt heavy in my outfit, stiff and formal.  I unhooked the side of my skirt and stepped over the pile of red velvet as it fell to the ground.  I turned my head slowly to take in the scene.  I levitated, and floated above the crowd, flying slowly through it.  People far away telescoped into my sight, perfectly formed, and then faded, back and forth.  The trees at the edge of the field were vivid.  I felt their restless movement in my chest, all beating in time to my heart.  Then I felt the sound of my breath moving in and out.  I fought to hold onto one single thought and follow it to its conclusion, and a fluttering palpitation of panic filled me.  The very molecules of my body were trying to separate. 

I gasped for air, breathing faster and faster, turning my eyes to find something familiar.  Someone handed me an onion, and I sank to my knees staring at the perfect yellow orb in my hand.  The layers upon layers that made up the whole opened like a lotus flower as my vision penetrated to the core, the center, the seed.  I perfectly understood the complexity of the world contained within.  A piece of parchment fluttered to the ground before me with the words, “Silence is Golden.”  It was the very pronouncement I waited to hear.  My eyes filled with tears, and a saltwater rainstorm poured from my core, running down my face, a cleansing stream.  I felt a touch on my shoulder, and looked into the eyes of Daisy Mae.  She was reflected through a prism of rainbow tears, a kaleidoscope of shapes forming and reforming, never the same.  I took a deep breath, the first breath in a new universe.  As the air filled my lungs, the suspended time began a gentle pendulum, in and out, in and out, and the mechanics of breathing resumed.  Daisy laughed at me as she squatted down, “Here, you need this.”

She carefully arranged a brown felt fedora on my head, took my onion, pointed to the paper on the grass in front of me.  She held a finger to her lips as she moved away. 

No one around me looked familiar.  Well, no one is familiar.  None of us really knows anyone.  There is no one new, nothing new, it’s all old, as old as the hills and the rocks and the sea.  We have been here before and will be here again.  Being stoned and being aware of being stoned was exhausting.  I felt silly and a little frustrated with myself.  When I looked up again into the crowd standing around me, the face of my friend Bruce detached itself from the ocean of strangers.  He bent down and kissed my cheek lightly, and moved on.  As I slid from the peak of my acid dream, I understood what Einstein was trying to say, that matter is never destroyed.  It was all so simple.

When I finally stood up, I could just barely see the stage. Lenore Kandell, the ‘Love Poet” read.  It all made perfect profound sense.  The fact that Jeffrey was lost in the crowd made perfect sense.  I had always been in this crowd at this moment, and it was where I would always be.  I turned away from the stage and looked toward the sea as a small marionette dangling from a giant kite, backlit by the sun, descended slowly from the sky.  Crowds of people rushed in his direction.  Another miracle. 

The sun was setting.  The crowd thinned.  I was nervous, lost and confused.  I wasn’t sure what to do, where to go.  The long low wail of a conch shell filled the field, someone took my arm and helped me into the back of a truck full of people.  Am I a refugee?  Am I being taken away?  I recognized one of Daisy Mae's boys, looked around and realized I knew most of these people.  With a sly smile, Pappy handed me a sweater, patting my arm.  Suddenly I was so tired.  I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all day, and as if I spoke the words, I’m thirsty, aloud, Sam handed me a bottle of juice.  We joined a caravan of vehicles moving slowly through the Park.  People walked beside us, talking and singing.  Mothers holding babies, crooned lullabies, everyone smiled and moved in the direction of the ocean.  I belong here, now.  I have not been forgotten, I am not lost.

At the beach we sat and watched the sunset, huddled together at the edge of the world.  Samantha wrapped her arms around me to keep me warm.  It was the first sunset I had ever seen and it was a revelation.  The beach glittered with dozens of small fires.  Groups of people danced to drums and the tinkling of bells and finger cymbals rose and fell on the waves.  Soft laughter floated on the embers and the world was suspended in time.  A cosmic time-out.  No one was arrested, no one was punished. 

I loved coming down.  I was filled with joy.  I don’t know whether it was relief or delight in the way acid shatters everything we know, rendering the world confusing, frightening and incomprehensible, and then puts everything back into place.  I also know it didn’t happen that way for everyone.