Jerry, the Dragon, and the Long Strange Trip: As Told By Oroboros
As this tale goes, back in 1977, my girlfriend/wife, myself, and two other friends decided to road trip from Lincoln, Nebraska to San Francisco’s Winterland for the Grateful Dead’s New Year’s Eve run of shows. This was before the days of computers or ticket master and we left with the belief we would find tickets once we were in California. I toted along with us a sculpture I completed that was about one and ½ foot (in circumference) depicting a dragon that is eating/consuming it’s own tail. I covered it ‘scraffito’ (carved designs) on the ‘hide’ of this beast, and then fired it in the kiln. This was the biggest piece of clay sculpture that I have ever made. I thought that it would be fun to give the ‘Oroboros’ to the Dead on New Year’s Eve.
So away we go, we get to the venue and secured tickets for the run (12/27, 29, 30, 31/77). The shows were unbefuckinliveable and the old Winterland was such a great hall. On the 31st, it was about 1:00 in the afternoon, and we all were sitting on the sidewalk surrounding the venue, waiting doors to open, talking and watching the crowd gel, all ready to hurry and get into for the 'activities.' We heard there would be freak volleyball and Bill Graham was going to show us movies before that evening's show.
I thought "I better try to unload the dragon aka 'Oroboros' now, it's heavy and I don't want to try to talk my way through the entrance with this beast." I spied a door stenciled as 'Backstage' and began knocking on the door. No answer. The line of people on the sidewalk started getting up and moving toward the entrance. I banged even harder, thinking "I've got to get this dragon in there so I can go in the front and join in before the show", and as I pounded harder, the door yanks open so hard that it pulls me into the doorway. However, the space immediately is filled with a gigantic black man in a red Winterland t-shirt, who puts his hand on my chest and he leans forward into my face and bellows "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" Startled, I held out the dragon with both hands and stuttered, "To give this to the band". The giant took it in his immense hand and his face curls into a grin as he held it closer to inspect it and I watched my dragon shrink to the size of a key chain. He exclaimed, "Wow, what is this? I'd like one of these" and I explained, "it's an Oroboros, and that is the only one there is." He grinned and said, "Cool, who do you want me to give it to?" so I replied, "To Garcia, give it to Jerry Garcia." The behemoth disappeared as quickly as he appeared and the door slammed shut just like the first time Dorothy tried to get into the Emerald City in Oz.
Newly unburdened, I happily gained entry to the show and as each of us walked through the gate, the Winterland staff handed us a small piece of paper with a cryptic prediction to expect "Good things come to those who wait. Midnight at 12:30" with a ‘Stealie’ on it. Upon entering the gate was a hallway surrounding the concert hall, you could either go into concert venue itself surrounded on all sides by an elevated balcony, (with theater seats). Or you could instead wander into their bar, which played some black and white videos on a 'big screen' taken from pro shots of the Winterland stage when Jimi Hendrix or the Airplane, etc. played this hallowed hall. Very entertaining on many levels (those are all part of Wolfgang’s collection now). Graham had a volleyball net in the middle of the floor of the Winterland and invited everyone to play ‘freak volleyball' for several rounds. Next activity was playing a couple movies on a screen for the crowd. This was a double feature from Graham’s film collection with 16 mm of Ray Bradbury's 'Illustrated Man' followed by the Beatles "Magical Mystery Tour." Emerging from the colorful/wonderful crowd, a woman dressed in a gypsy outfit (we dubbed her 'rainbow' Rose) as she waved an eyedropper of liquid party favor, Rose explained "just one dollar per drop. On your tongue or for the adventurous, a drop in your eye".
Hey, the New Riders of the Purple Sage are starting, got to get in there, the sound is loud and they are rocking the house. Anticipation was high and the Dead came out for the first set. Our party favors are now starting to engage..., things began to sparkle and the old Winterland venue takes notice as her walls start to sweat and then to sway with the strains of familiar music as the Dead coax this old hall to dance with us all. This is such a delight, I know the vista cruiser is engaged and then I notice when the house lights went down, and the stage lights went dark in between songs, then I saw it. On top of a monitor, in between Billy and Mickey, there was a flame; it was a white candle sitting by the dragon. It was the Oroboros, ON STAGE WITH THE DEAD! Whoo hoo!! I watched as Jerry walked over and lit a cigarette off the candle next to the beast, in between songs.
They took a break and the surprise for the second half was Uncle BoBo (as Bobby liked to call Graham) dressed up as Uncle Sam on a motorcycle sliding down on a cable suspended high from the back of the hall to the stage. They put spotlights on him as he approached the stage and it was hilarious. Because as Graham came to the stage, the weight of the bike and BoBo was too much and he sagged below stage. Roadies had to rush out and drag him onstage and then to the explosion of Sugar Mag, complete with dropping balloons and a guy and gal each dressed as baby New Year’s dancing at the each edge of the stage. I was 'sittin' on top of the world (Dead reference intended).
If you google the YouTube 1977 NYE show Fire on the Mountain video, see the ending of Fire on the Mountain (around 7:29 minutes). As Bobby is explaining how the crew would fix the technical difficulties, you will see the camera focus in on the 'Oroboros' for a couple of seconds and then someone takes a flash photo illuminating the beast sitting between Billy and Mickey. I showed this YouTube to my three sons to demonstrate the ‘old man is not getting on’ and I am not full of beans or some other brown material.
What a treat that run in 1977 was. Several of us had attended those June 1977 shows, but to come back for New Year’s Eve show was definitely a peak experience. At many levels, the setting, the return of China Cat-Rider, my being able to 'gift' our band, who has poured out so much to us, the road-trip and whole experience. Too much! As we walked out into the cool San Francisco early morning and drove through the fog back to Lincoln, Nebraska. But unknown to me, the best would be yet to come.
Fast forward to another road trip to Madison, Wisconsin on February 3, 1978. The Dead were ‘firing on all engines’ and this was really a killer show. The opener Cold Rain and Snow had to shake the snow off the roof of the Dane County Coliseum with the Phil-bombs. One of my favorite Cold Rains ever. And the delicious second half jam with Estimated>Eyes>Playin>Wheel>Playin was beyond spectacular. The next morning before I left the hotel, I got a wild hair, and thought “I should ask Garcia what he thought of the Oroboros. I can at least try.” So I called the hotel’s front desk, and asked "Could I have Jerry Garcia's room please?" And he put me through and the phone rang and Jerry answered! I said, "Hey, I'm the guy that brought the dragon to the New Year's show" and Garcia said, "Meet you in the coffee shop in 20 minutes". I could not believe what was happening but I stumbled into the coffee shop at the appointed time and looked around spying Jerry Garcia seated at a table with a ravishingly beautiful raven-haired woman.
I walked over and introduced myself, and 'shook the hand, that shook the hand, of PT Barnum and Charlie Chan'. Jerry beamed that smile and gestured and said, "Sit down, man". He asked me "How did you fire that dragon so that it didn't explode in the kiln?" and I explained how I had cut it in half and hollowed it out before joining it back together, to eliminate any air bubbles. I told him how I had used a guitar string to 'halve it" and we locked eyes at that moment and he burst into laughter, and I said "Ironic, huh?" And Jerry quipped "No, man that makes perfect sense." Then we laughed some more discussing the process of art and ideas. Then his lady friend asked "where are you from?" and I replied Nebraska. And she shot Garcia a glance and her voice dripped with disbelief "He came all the way up here from Nebraska to see the band!" To which Garica shrugged his shoulders and retorted, "We didn't ask him to come" and looked back at me and we both howled with laughter again. No deadhead was she!
We talked more about art and the dragon and at that time I did not know of Garcia's interest and practice in art (this kind anyway). He was completely engaged in the topic of art, but so quick witted with 'turn on a dime' twists, turns, commentaries and curiosities on a variety of topics. And Jerry was also focused on listening, not acting like he was the important one, instead giving me time and locked in on the discussion and talking about our shared interests. The gypsy woman frowned in disbelief as she asked me "You went out to San Francisco for New Years and then you came to Wisconsin" and I said 'yes' and then I turned to Garcia to request, "Why don't you bring the circus back to Lincoln, Nebraska?" He quickly retorted, "You mean to Perishing Auditorium?" I corrected him "No, it is named Pershing Auditorium, named after the army general" and Garcia quickly replied, "No man, it was perishing! Truly!" Then we both burst out laughing again. At that Lincoln Dead show on 2-26-73, there were a bunch of drunk frat boys yelling 'boogie, boogie" at the top of their lungs, however that show is a classic!
Anyway, I again asked Garcia "could you bring the Dead back to Nebraska" and Jerry grinned that Cheshire cat grin of his and he replied, "Who knows?" I took my leave (as their breakfast arrived) and then drove home. So that is my story, and while I cannot recall everything that Jerry and I talked about over 4 decades ago, he was totally gracious, engaging, enthusiastic, and kind to a deadhead who approached him at one moment in time. His wit, his ability to ‘turn on a dime’ with twists and turns of topics and colorful takes on our discussion made a massive impression on me as I drove out of all that Wisconsin snow on that cold Saturday morning.
Then in the summer of 1978, when the Dead did actually did circle back to Nebraska. They played the Omaha Civic Auditorium, where the Dead played once before in 1973. We got to the venue and it was half full (about 4,000) but everyone was chomping at the bit in anticipation to hear them live. I took my Nakamichi 550 into the venue and there was no hassle getting the deck in this time, but remember these were the days before ‘tapers sections’ (1984?). Each venue or even various staff could present a different challenge to the taper. Tapers had to be inventive, and think on their feet, but not here, not today, thank goodness.
Out in the hallways of the Civic the Hell’s Angels wandered about sporting full colors and big grins. They may have been transporting ‘party favors’ and decided to take in a show. Maybe the Angels were just road tripping with the band (although I didn't see them at the next few shows). My buddy even brought his 68 year old mother to the show. She sat up in the stands “It is just too loud down there!” Anyway, I headed down to the floor with my Nak 550 to set up in front of the soundboard. When I started to get my gear set up and saw this guy beside me with a great rig. Luckily this kind stranger (I have since discovered he was famous taper Bob Wagner) then let me patch out of the back of his deck, which was wonderful since he had a towering 8 ft. tall mike stand set-up in front of board. He had a Sony deck and mics, but with that high stand, his mic’s were well above the surrounding crowd noise. We were about 15 to 20 feet in FOB as I recall. So Garcia treated us to a blistering Sugaree opener, the kind that drove the crowd wild. His leads mounted into a wave that crests, recedes, regroups, and comes back rolling in with such power and delight that adds a synergistic effect to our frenzied response as his rolling/soaring guitar work lift and subside with that band.
Then Beat In on Down the Line, TLEO and now it was Bob’s turn in the spotlight with a Look’s like Rain. About halfway through the song, I suddenly noticed something shimmering in the air between the band and me. I thought “what a fantastic light show! Or have I have shifted into fifth gear just a little early that I scheduled?” I staggered towards that disturbance in front of me to investigate. People were dancing wildly in the middle of the floor as a waterfall played over them. It was about 25 feet in circumference. I put my hand in, water…hand out, no rain…moisture…? Hummm..? I am standing in front of an indoor waterfall! What to do? So of course, I jumped into pouring rain that was INSIDE the middle of the auditorium! Then I stepped back and was out of it. I shook my head and then lunged back into the deluge and danced through Looks Like Rain & then during Direwolf as well and a delightful All Over now. (Complete with Donna in perfect pitch!) Then Candyman and Lazy>Supplication before Bobby informed us “We’re going to take a short break”.
I staggered back to reload a new tape into my deck and look for some validation of my experience. I asked my friends if I was not in fact ‘soaking wet’ as I patted my soaked shirt. They grinned and nodded knowingly and affirmed, yes, in fact I was “all wet”. And then this unique show continued, (nice indoor water-feature, boys !) with a killer second set complete with a transportive Estimated> Eyes> drums> Wharf Rat> Truckin> Iko Iko> Around & Around. That was an unusual combo ‘sandwich’ that I never heard before or since. Then after a lengthy absence from the stage, the boys returned to play us ‘Promised Land” as an encore, but since Bob Wager already took down his mike stand, I didn’t get that recorded. As I left the auditorium, I noticed the water standing on the ground outside, a summer storm. Was this a case of a leaky roof or didn't the Dead just conjure up the forces of nature as they were so prone to do?
However, back to the important stuff, what were the Dead going to do next in Red Rocks? Would Phil rev up his reverse gravity machine and pummel us with Phil-bombs at the next show? Would they levitate the crowd, and have us all dance while floating in the 'cool Colorado range'? I HAD to follow them to those Red Rocks shows in 1978. So a road-trip to Colorado it was. This was the Dead’s first Red Rocks jaunt (and my first as well, although my girlfriend (now wife) had seen Joni Mitchell there previously and raved about the venue) so my anticipation was so ‘high’. (In many ways.) So I packed my taping and camping gear and off we went.
When we walked up to the Rocks entrance, the Feyline security crew (or were they the John Scher guys?) were stopping people and inspecting any 'carry in' bags. A security behemoth that I will call “BigBoy’ stopped me at the entrance to look through my Boy Scout backpack. He hefted my NAK 550 out of the pack and held it aloft with one beefy paw, exclaiming “Hey, you can’t take this in!” I gave him my best ‘perplexed look’ and said “What it’s just a tape player.” (first lie) Then the giant BigBoy instructs me to “take that back to your car”. I retorted, “I can’t, I hitchhiked to the show” (second lie). Beefy Bruiser BigBoy points to my ticket and says “the ticket says no recorders on it, you can't take it in” and I tell him “look I don’t have any microphones” (third lie) and hold up my arms to be searched (of course my comrades had the mics with them). Then I sighed loudly and popped open the back of the Nak deck and let eight D cell batteries drop onto the ground. “Look, I dumped out the batteries, it can't function”. (lie number four) BigBoy stood there with his arms crossed in front of me, but I could see a small crack developing in his resolve. So I pulled that thread “Look, I hitchhiked all the way here from Nebraska to see this show, would you hold onto this deck for me? It cost me $600 (which in ’78 was a lot of dough) but if you just hold it for me, and then I will find you after the show. You look like an honest guy.” (fifth lie, this guy did not look trustworthy). I had to make my move, so I push the Nak towards him, and this deck is huge and weighs a ton, (a goddamn boat anchor). I really played my trump card here and was trying to hold my ‘game-face’, Suddenly all the heads waiting in line behind (and all my friends) erupt with yells at the BigBoy to hurry up and started chanting “let us in”. BigBoy gives his mullet a shake and then he points into the venue and looks at me and exclaims “Go on, get out of here” and I dive headlong into my first Red Rocks show with a grin a mile wide(high)!
Followed by Mary with my mics and my buddies with my fresh batteries (re: lie number four) and my blank tapes. The batteries that I dumped out for BigBoy were already ‘dead’ (pun intended). Again ran into that ‘kind stranger’ (Dr. Bob Wagner, FOB right side)) to plug out of his Sony again. Those two shows were stupefying, and the band obviously enjoyed playing there. Bobby's deer joke, and I remember Phil leading the boys through “Cold Rain & Snow” with his bass punching that tune into a triumphant ‘strut’ that evening. Much different than the Cold Rain in Madison Wisconsin. I recall Jerry broke a string during the Scarlet>Fire, which really didn't slow the pace of that perfect evening. On into Dancin' >NFA > Black Peter > Around & Around and then a dual encore of US Blues & Johnny B Goode.
The next night was much the same. Each night we would watch the clouds chase each other in the sky as the band serenaded us. Until it became dark and then we looked out ‘over’ the Dead to see the distant lights of Denver sparking in the background. Second night second half, we were treated to a tremendous Estimated > Other One> Eyes of the World > drums> Wharf Rat > Franklin's Tower > Sugar Mag. The crowd was especially raucous as Wharf Rat wound to that tender quiet point and Phil (or was it Bobby) gave a "Shhhhh" to still us in preparation for that wonderful 'launching' platform/crescendo.
The Dead's aural wonders matched with the Red Rocks astounding visuals those evenings as we were perched in between those massive stony slabs jutting into the sky (and the Dead had a magical view as well looking back at us from the stage). The Grateful Dead took us all on an astounding journey of Americana, myth, rock and roll, country, space, jam, fable, fun, roller coaster, and turn on a dime delights, it all 'rolled into one'. Then as the Dead finished us all off with “Werewolves of London” we were all crooning back to the Dead with our own howl of “Aoooooo”. And Garcia was grinning ear to ear as he bid us all a “good night”.
Just as I can't recall everything that Jerry and I talked about that February morning 4 decades ago, me so excited to talk to him, Jerry becoming jazzed to talk art and symbols/mysticism (probably a break for him having to talk about the Dead and music all the time), and while sharing, our conversation took on it’s own power. In a microcosm, it is that synergistic effect, that remarkable moment the Dead evoke.
I know I ramble on a bit, but I thought I would ‘complete the circle’ of this story. Wikipedia defines Oroboros as symbolizing self-reflexivity or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself. I believe the Oroboros predates the mythical Chimera, a creature composed/combining different parts of multiple known animals (lion, goat, snake, etc.). Some ancient religions/faiths perceived it as an originating and self-sustaining beast, feeding on itself, continuing to thrive, and/or spawn new power. To me, the Oroboros is a representation of reinvention, or of transformation. Or I heard that (or read that) somewhere before.
I reread a book about Jerry discussing the Dead, and he said” I thought that maybe this idea of transforming principle has something to do with it. Because when we get onstage, what we really want to happen is, we want to be transformed from ordinary players into extraordinary ones, like forces of larger consciousness. And the audience wants to be transformed from whatever ordinary reality they may be, into something a little wider, something that enlarges them. So maybe it’s the notion of transformation, seat of the pants shamanism, that has something to do with why the Grateful Dead keeps pulling them in. Maybe that is what keeps the audience coming back for and what keeps it fascinating for us too.”
And I think that is what it was like when we joined with the Dead at those shows, their pouring out this unfathomable energy in that moment, and us in the audience rising in response with our collective surge pushing energy back to the Dead, which then propelled them to greater heights of aural adventure. Maybe I am just rambling on,.. but you know that the Grateful Dead did often get that 'dragon' off the ground, and into flight, with us all levitating in their draft. We were part of that remarkable mixture of music + magic + visuals + adventure which manifested = alchemy.
Then as we would watch/listen, with our mouths agape, as each of the Dead would tease, improvise, call and response, cascading leads ('catch me if you can'). Those shimmering rhythms, the bass runs/bombs (that changed the very atmospheric pressure), keyboard interplay, that primal percussion mutating into complex and compelling syncopation, urging and propelling the band further,... and the bard’s lyrics, that poetry, those revelations,...that song...and we would roar and exhort the Dead and pour that fervor into our tribal stomp and collective howl.
And suddenly the moment slows and extends and everything becomes quite still and that voice "nothing you can hold for very long..." and then all of us stumble into that crystalline cool evening. Sad eyes, heads shaking, and smiles which alternated between satiation and longing for more.
In the fall of 1979, my Nakamichi was stolen, but thankfully, my tapes were not taken. Trading those Omaha and Red Rocks 1978 tapes has resulted in a significant amount of new live music (various artists and musical genres) for me from other Heads. And my hats off and big love to all the tapers who keep everyone in touch with the audience music experience!
So that is the back story and my tale of ‘a brush with greatness’, a moment with Jerry Garcia, a gift given and received, and a part of a Deadhead’s ongoing adventure(s). I pass this story onto you, my friends and cohorts in this wonderful journey.
Of course, this just scratches the surface of the many ‘road tales’ as there is much other music and different experiences to chase. Must save the other stories: wall of sound 1974 show (GD), Egypt story (GD), or the tale of the exploding cabin (GD), or the radically early show arrival (Neil Young), David Byrne bowling (Talking Heads), Little Feat tape confiscation, disorientation & rescue after JamGrass KC, or the myriad of past sagas for another time and day. _
Happy 2024 and take care all,
Tim
Greatest story ever told
Tim, you're a good writer!
But it's cool Colorado rain, not range.
Not that that wouldn't work, lol.
Glad this has reposted!
Cheers from cool Colorado
Year of the Dragon!!
I'm here for it! Such a great story Tim! Among the many cool events, and the greatness of the Oroboros, I love the Omaha waterfall. Thank you for sharing this tale now and earlier. And thank you Marye for making it happen this time! Time to rock the July box! Spinning Omaha now.
Lincoln connection
As a former resident of Lincoln, I'm curious about Tim's background. Any chance he knew Terrance Moore?
Spudboy of calaveras county.
Having peeled my share of potatoes in Angels Camp. I have always wondered why can't the GD store make a clothing line that fits those of us of larger girth. I'm talking 4XL here people ...Pass the gravy please.
Spudboy of calaveras county.
Having peeled my share of potatoes in Angels Camp. I have always wondered why can't the GD store make a clothing line that fits those of us of larger girth. I'm talking 4XL here people ...Pass the gravy please.
Many Thanks...
...Tim
Those were great Dead adventures you gave us. Red Rocks brought back memories of the 1984 run the Dead did there.
My only time at the venue. For years I had wanted the boys to cover Dear Mr. Fantasy and at least a minute before the song I could hear Jerry teasing a note or two teasing me. I started getting my hopes up and started bouncing and then saying no f'ing chance... yes... please and people around me are looking at me strangely until the band dropped into
the song full force and they all understood. I will remember that to my grave...
Many thanks my brothers and sisters
Appreciate all your kind responses to my remembrance. Thanks to Marye for posting, as I was not able to. We are a lucky bunch to have this band and these memories.
"Teachers open the door(s), you must enter by yourself."
Will give this tale a shameless bump since the anniversary of
this road trip is upon us. Perhaps there is one among us who has not heard this?
My sons tell me that I repeat myself all the time, which of course is true.
And a early happy New Year to all.
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” - Dr. Seuss
Just noticed the thread title
Credits Oro Thing2 (Oroborous), not Oro Thing1 (Oroboros), the actual story teller.
Easily confused doppelgängers.
Great story, Tim
Thanks for sharing. Paints a beautiful picture of seeing The Dead at that time. A perfect backdrop for listening to 12/29/77 - or 12/31/78, which I haven't seen for some time, and which is calling my name.
The two Oros
Thanks Mary!
I (Thing 2) have enough GD stories of my own to write a book lol, so don’t need/want to take credit or steal thunder for that awesome story from our good brother and my Bizarro other “Thing 1” ; )
So thanks for making things right!
And big Howdy Do to you Thing 1, hope y’all having a great holiday season!
And thanks for the stories! How bout some more!
Another one, for the other one
Very well Thing 2 and fellow deadheads- for your edification and in keeping with the Winterland 77 theme, the story of road tripping summer of 1977. Bake and I had decided to visit the northwest and visit one of my oldest friends Dave, in Eugene, Oregon. I had turned him onto the Dead years before in Lincoln NE and he was as rabid as I was to jump aboard and take in some shows. Dave was working in a Creamery in Springfield at the time and his employers were very receptive to his ‘jumping on the bus” to chase music and especially the Grateful Dead (who were returning from a historic tour). We caught Tom Waits playing in the Oregon student union accompanied by a piano and drums. Jazzy and entertaining. Then we headed down the coast to San Fran and caught Little Feat at Winterland. A tremendous show, and Lowell George was cooking with his slide guitar (wearing his trademark white painter’s overalls) and he kicked his foot in joy and his shoe flew off right out into the audience! Sailing shoes, indeed. I don’t know if he got it back.
Headed further south to find friend Tom in Santa Barbara. He had accompanied me to my first Dead show and informed us that the Dead we going to be at the Fabulous Forum in LA on 6-4-77 and then for 3 day run at Winterland. We were beside ourselves but continued with the serious business of music with Bonnie Raitt at the Santa Monica Civic bowl, and her opening band was the David Grisman Quintet. I was floored with the musicianship of that show (Tony Rice!) and the little outdoor venue was perfect. Bonnie Raitt asked the band members for a show of hands of the guys whose face she hadn’t sat on. Bonnie? Little Feat again played in a little hacienda style indoor place in Santa Barbara that looked like it was a southwestern stucco town, complete with the sparkling stars in the indoor sky. Feats was ON that night and it was a delightful event and when Jackson Browne dropped in to sit in to sing Willin’ with Lowell I thought could this get better?
We had written back (letters, no email in those days) to Lincoln, NE. to tell a couple of buddies that the Dead were going to be in Winterland and they should trek out and we would meet them in the Wharf Rat bar at 1 clock the day before the 1st show of that 3 day run. But we had to get to the 6-4-77 show first. I was beside myself with anticipation and it was truly a case of too many party favors. We all imbibed and then went to the airport to pick up friend Greg who flew in from Lincoln, fresh from the ’77 Minneapolis show and he was toting MORE party favors, which of course we gobbled down, not stopping to consider the doubling and synergistic effect of all this.
We then zipped to the Forum and went through the routine. They had ticket takers and then as you entered there was one guy sitting on a milk crate searching your ‘lower half’ and another person searching your ‘upper’. And everything they took, they tossed into garbage cans at the entrance and as I walked by it was ¾ full of everything under the sun, booze, smoke, pipes, pills, powders, etc. That was some expensive refuse! We hustled into our seats and I had never been in a venue this huge before. But my oh my the boys did play that night. They were late for some reason and the anticipation was hanging in the air (along with many of our minds). That was my first glimpse of the new ‘Terrapin Station’ and all that went along with it. The Dead charged headlong into their new material and also played us tasty and welcome treats from the past. At the beginning of the second half I noticed that the Forum had started to rotate, like the Tilt o’ Whirl at the Fair, and the centrifugal force was accelerating with the song list and I swear one of the fastest Not Fade Aways known to modern man only added to ‘the ride’. By this time, all in attendance had acquired wings and were perched on the back of their seats in the forum. We were like gargoyles waiting to take flight from the grip of gravity. Must wait for the right moment, once the floor gives way and we are in the air. There is more to this but I don't think I can do the story justice in writing. After that show we drove up what is called Highway 1 (I believe) and stopped on a spot that took us down by the ocean. We all got out of the car to a thundering sound of the water colliding with an embankment affixed to the side of the bluff overlooking the ocean. Tom and I stood on the little rock barrier as the ocean waves slammed into the wall/shore and shot the salty water 100 feet into the air and then it would rain down on us as we giggled pointed and pontificated on what delights the Dead might have in store in that magical Winterland. Unfortunately, Tom had to go back to work in Santa Barbara, and Greg back on the plane to the Midwest, then time to race to San Francisco.
Dave, Bake, and I had an inkling what was in store, but this road trip was moving to its natural peak at a pace we were unfamiliar with. We arrived at the appointed time at the Wharf Rat bar, walking in from the bay side entrance and as we did, coming in from the side door were Mike and Jeff who ran right into us like the 3 Stooges (hey there was 5 of us!) Boom. Whoop whoop, hey Mo, hey Larry. Unbelievably they had jumped a train in Nebraska and ridden under automobiles that were on flatbed train cars as the locomotive traversed through the high Rockies, though lengthy tunnels, across the ‘cool Colorado range’ and Mike and Jeff had gotten in across the bay and then jumped on the ‘tube’ (is that what it is called) to meet us. They would have to tell that part. It is incredible and quite 'hairy'. We laughed at the sight of them covered with soot and road wear and went to clean up and then off to an animation festival. The next day was the first show. We drove up to the area where Winterland was, a lot of crumbling and unused buildings, and Mike headed to the liquor store to make a purchase for the show. We stood in a line that wrapped the sidewalk outside Winterland and talked with the wide variety of people that were set to welcome the Dead home. Jokes, smokes, food, stories, songs, and the ever present tapes of prior shows from weeks before filled the air. Oh, the line is moving, let’s get going.
As we went in the search that was conducted was only half as serious as in LA and I didn’t see the garbage cans filled with ‘contraband’. Mike held his arms up as the attendant, searched his pants and pulled out a half pint of cheap whiskey. “You can’t take this in, Man” and the attendant pocketed the bottle. All the time not noticing in Mike’s hand raised high above his head, a pint bottle of Jack Daniels. Mike was a boy scout, you see, always be prepared. And I guess he earned his misdirection badge. We went into the old skating arena, and I was enthralled. It had a great big floor area, chairs around the outer ring and back under the balconies, and that great balcony that wrapped the whole place. There was a bar inside the Winterland, where of course you could purchase your favorite intoxicants, but the delight was one of the first ‘big screens’ I had seen. But more significant was that Jimi Hendrix was the one playing on the screen and as I watched I realized that all the music that I was watching had taken place at Winterland. Bill had the foresight to tape many of the bands. I think now it is known as Wolfgang’s Vault. Back then it was the entertainment in the bar. Quite a treat.
But outside the bar the electricity began to intensify and then Dead came out to start. First Bertha, then Jack Straw, yes, those are tears on my cheeks, the sound permeated this venue. It was if the dead were breathing life into the bricks and mortar and animating the old girl to start her own dance. Animating this abode into our own Mars Hotel. She began to sway in time as we began our dance. Anticipation mixed with delight and longing, and the walls started to shimmer and breath. And then it was time to hear my Scarlet Begonias, but wait what is this next song? And that undulating underwater guitar? Garcia!! (my first Fire!!) Long distance runner is what I wrote when I heard that phrase and then could write no more until Fire had segued into a ripping Good Lovin’.
The treats continued with old and new tunes and when they played Estimated Prophet, I of course wrote “California… Like an angel’… and into He’s Gone and then Samson & Delilah. I wrote “Tear this old building down”. The band was grinning ear to ear as they played and I swear I kept hearing Jerry noodling the notes from “Encounters of a 4th Kind”. But my huge reward was to come. An epic Terrapin (my second, they played it in LA) BUT when it segued into Morning Dew, my mouth dropped to my chest. Phil cranked up his 'phil' bombs and the very air was being pushed out of my lungs. It felt much like gravity was now a lateral sensation as opposed to drawing you downward. I leaned into the band as Garcia told the tale and Phil continued the gale of bass notes propelling me backward. But I had to lean forward as I was drawn by Jerry’s sweet refrain and compelling guitar-work. Garcia and the caressed us as the music built and then suddenly was very quiet, and then crescendo. Bliss. Abruptly the gear shifted and Bobby threw us mercilessly into a double speed Around & Around. Back to reality. I had to catch my breath and then later they gave us encores of UJB and US Blues to send us out into that cool bay evening.
So many smiling faces, giggling, and the serenity that is inherent in coming home after a wonderful exciting adventure. And as I walked out, I thought to myself, shit, that was just the first night! We have two more shows to go.
We will end the Chinese year of the Dragon, how appropriate. And Happy New year!
Another Great Story
The misdirection merit badge. Priceless!
And riding on an open train car. That took some guts. Deadhead hobos riding the rails. So good. Thanks Oro 1.
Cheers
Good Sheet Mon!
Thanks!
Keep ‘em coming, sounds like you have more!