May 5, 1970: SUNY Binghamton Strike

STRIKE  

The following statement was drafted over the weekend in New York by an emergency meeting of college and university newspaper editors. Editors from the following colleges and universities approved this statement: Brown, Cornell, Columbia, Dartmouth, Harvard, University of Pennsylvania, Princeton, Haverford, Bryn Mawr, Sarah Lawrence, and Rutgers.

President Nixon's unwarranted and illegitimate decision to send American combat forces into Cambodia and to resume the bombing of North Vietnam demands militant, immediate, and continued opposition from all Americans.

Through his unilateral executive move, the President has placed our country in a state of emergency. He has ignored the constitutional prerogatives of Congress, and has revealed the sham of his policy of Vietnamization, a policy which, through a torturous process of inner logic, demands that we escalate the war in order to enable American troops to withdraw. He has demonstrated that American foreign policy still dictates the necessity to sacrifice American lives, to ravish independent countries, and to squander our energies and resources. 

The President has tragically misgauged the mood of the country. The anti-war movement, which has marched and protested for years in a vain effort to reverse the United States role in Southeast Asia, has finally resurfaced in new and larger numbers. With Nixon's lies now finally exposed, the immorality and hypocrisy of our government's actions have been revealed for all to see. 

The need for action has never been so great and so urgent. We therefore call on the entire academic community of the country to engage in a nationwide strike. We must cease business as usual in order to allow universities to lead and join in a collective strike to protest American's escalation of the war.

We do not call for a strike by students against the university, but a strike by the entire university - faculty, students, staff and administration alike. 

The reasons for such a strike are manifold. First, it is a dramatic symbol of our opposition to a corrupt and immoral war. It demonstrates clearly our priorities, for the significance of classes and examinations pale before the great problem outside the classroom. Moreover, it recognizes the fact that, within a society so permeated with inequality, immorality, and destruction, a classroom education becomes a hollow, meaningless experience. 

But the necessity for a strike extends even far beyond these reasons. The strike is necessary to free the academic community from activities of secondary importance and to open it up to the primary task of building renewed opposition to the war. It is necessary to permit the academic community to solidify its own opposition beyond the campuses. 

We ask the entire academic community to use this opportunity to go to the people, and to bring home to the entire nation the meaning of the President's action. A massive, unprecedented display of dissent is required.

We urge that this strike be directed toward bringing about the following changes: 

1.) Passage of an amendment to the Senate's Military Appropriations Bill to deny all aid for our military and political adventures in Southeast Asia. 

2.) The mobilization of public support for anti-war candidates in the upcoming primary and general elections. 

3.) The end of political repression at home, in particular the government's systematic attempt to eliminate the Black Panther Party and other political dissidents. 

4.) A reallocation of American resources from military involvement abroad to domestic problems, in particular the problems of our beleaguered cities.

5.) And the building of support for a massive demonstration in Washington on May 9 to bring to the nation's capital, an unprecedented number our position. [sic]

The stage has been set, the issues clearly drawn, the need apparent. It is now time to act. [...] 

We must be one in this struggle or else our energies will be frustrated.

* * *

UNIVERSITY-WIDE REFERENDUM STRIKE WEDNESDAY

by Jay Rubin

A university wide referendum will take place all day today to decide whether or not the State University of New York at Binghamton will join a nationwide strike of universities. The strike was called for at an emergency meeting of college newspaper editors to protest the latest United States escalation of the war in Indochina. Balloting will take place in dorm lounges and the Student Center until 10 p.m. 

The strike, if approved, will be an open end strike with the newly formed SUNY-Binghamton Action Committee attempting to work out an agreement that would cancel all finals. In place of classes, specific strike activities will be planned. 

A demonstration in Binghamton, hopefully involving the entire community, is set for Saturday. In addition, petitions will be circulated calling for the impeachment of Nixon and Agnew. The Action Committee will become the Strike Committee and attempt to set up a liberation school on campus . . . 

The decision to hold the referendum and appoint an Action Committee was made at a mass meeting last night in the Women's Gym. The 1800-person, two and one-half hour meeting heard 16 proposals before deciding on specific plans. The meeting was hectic and marked by shouting. Proposals ranged from going to a demonstration in Washington, to tying up the power structure by making ten phone calls a day per person to war corporations. [...] 

Numerous actions have begun on college campuses across the nation. Stony Brook and Albany have begun their strikes today. Other SUNY colleges are expected to follow.

(from the Colonial News, State University of New York at Binghamton, May 5, 1970)

https://www.nyshistoricnewspapers.org/?a=d&d=tcn19700505-01.1.6&e=-------en-20--1--txt-txIN----------

November 1, 1969 & February 28, 1970: Family Dog, San Francisco

11/1/69

NO DOUBT: THE DOG 

This is a pitifully inadequate space, both aesthetically and dimensionally, in which to attempt this communication, but here it unfolds: 

Tomorrow night, the fourth of November, Workshop: Family Circus, Rainbow Jam, Tracy Hite, free-form ballet - "Circus of the Stars," music by the Family of Mu. 

Wednesday night, the Family of Man, the Family of God. 

Thursday night, acoustic string night, Tup Fisher, "All God's Children."

This last Saturday night I found myself at the Dog, listening to three artists. The first was the Golden Toad, a preettty strange assemblage of musicians performing on instruments like conch shells, bagpipes, Swiss mountain horns, double reed flutes, an endless array of percussion, and on and on. They're fairly difficult to comment on at all. 

Next was a man whom I've heard nothing about - ever - I still don't know how old he is, where he's from, or how he learned to sing and play. All I can say is that he is a magic being on stage and emits energies warmer and stronger than any solo performer I've ever seen. His name is Danny Cox. 

The Grateful Dead ended the night, deflated my body, and nearly orbited the ballroom with an achingly powerful, energetic set that ran through tunes new and old. Man, this band has endurance.

Stop by the Dog soon, if you're willing to be part of it instead of merely looking at it.

(from the Daily Californian, November 4, 1969) 

https://archive.org/details/gd69-11-01.sbd.cotsman.6298.sbeok.shnf

See also: 

Lost Live Dead: Halloween Weekend 1969: Loma Prieta Room, San Jose State and Family Dog on The Great Highway (Oct 31-Nov 2 '69) [FDGH V] 

(More on Danny Cox.) (More on Golden Toad.)

* * * 

2/28/70

DILBERT'S CHOICE (excerpt) 

The Grateful Dead are amazing. All I know for certain is that last Saturday, at Family Dog, they completely blew my mind with an energy explosion the likes of which I have never experienced. 

They opened with "Love Light," and everyone was jumping... But then Garcia and Weir left everybody hanging by doing three numbers on acoustic guitars. I mean it was O.K., but so what? All it did was rip off everyone's (including their own) energy. It took about a half-hour of Country & Western songs before they could get it together again. They've changed a bit from the old days, they now do individual songs in a C&W vein; I find it boring.

"Good Lovin" then exploded and I completely forgot my boredom... It was like an elusive acid trip...a transcendental vision. It was unbelievable. 

(by Frederick Chase, from the Daily Californian, March 4, 1970)

https://archive.org/details/gd70-02-28.sbd.cotsman.9377.sbeok.shnf 

See also: 

Rock Archaeology 101: February 27-March 1, 1970 Family Dog on The Great Highway, 660 Great Highway, San Francisco, CA: Grateful Dead/Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen [FDGH '70 VII] 

1970: Grateful Dead vs. Velvet Underground

GRATEFUL DEAD: JOURNEY ACROSS ABYSS 

Of course there has always been the Great Abyss. On this side, concrete, printed circuits, pollution, and human excrement of all sorts. On this side, more is less. The other side of the Abyss is pure energy. No designations, no regimentations; but rather some kind of absolute disorder. "Beware of structure freaks!" says Abbie Hoffman. On the other side of the Abyss even happiness is eclipsed by freedom.

So we're standing here at the edge of the Abyss. A situation with a lot of potential. (This side is always potential; the other side is kinetic.) But there is this immense guard rail, or wall actually, that reaches nearly to the clouds and outwards to the horizon. And the only way through it appears to be through this barely noticeable pin-hole. 

Which obviously brings us to the subject of rock 'n roll music. 'Cause as any school child knows, rock music conceptualizes and contextualizes everything. And it was rock music that re-discovered the Great Abyss, or at least put it back in the international spotlight where it belongs. (Although Time magazine has somehow neglected to put the Abyss on any of their covers.) 

Abyss pioneers are few, indeed, due mostly to the dangers of exploring unknown dimensions. The two most successful are the Grateful Dead and the Velvet Underground. 

No doubt, the Grateful Dead are a magic band. Their music transcends planetary identification. It's not (merely) galactic; but truly cosmic. They conjure up enchanting and enticing spells. Their music floats. The Grateful Dead are lighter than air! 

Their new album, "Live-Dead," is a sort of log of their journeys across the Abyss and back again. 

The Velvet Underground's Abyss expeditions date back two years before other rock explorers. The Velvet Underground definitely do not float. Much too weighty for that. They pound and vibrate, writhing loose and bursting free of any holds. 

No doubt a certain A. Warhol (who produced their first record) helped point them in the right direction. But it was the very weighty psychical consciousness of both guitarist and leader Lou Reed and former bassist John Cale that provided the means. 

Said LeRoi Jones of John Cale's bass playing: "So deep, so satisfying: especially the way it goes thud, thud." 

Unlike the Dead's journal, VU has given us a recording of their actual trip across the Abyss in "Sister Ray," a 17-minute work on their second album, "White Light-White Heat." 

The Dead and VU use entirely different methods. Where the Dead's music as in the incredibly beautiful "Dark Star" caresses and carries you away, "Sister Ray" by VU lacerates your flesh and rips out your intestines. Where the Dead makes love to you, VU rapes you up and back down again! 

The reason for the differing methods is easy to identify. The Grateful Dead are from San Francisco; the Velvet Underground are from New York. A cultural (coastal) clash - West versus East. Or more precise, Acid versus Heroin. 

Jerry Garcia, guitarist for the Dead, employs a Magic Surge that cuts through you like a hot knife through butter. On the other hand, Lou Reed's guitar playing smashes you in the face and then gets under your skin as his nervous system explodes and overloads. 

The journey across the Abyss caused a most sterling change in VU as is evidenced by their third and most recent album. Their thunder was replaced by a kind of understatement. This album is exquisite in a simple and subtle way. The Velvet Underground appeared at the Quiet Knight Cafe on West Belmont in January. To hear their new unrecorded compositions such as "New Age" is to know the lessons they learned on the other side of the Abyss. Obviously, the way the VU used to travel was just too demanding. Or maybe on the other side they learned less is more.

The Grateful Dead keep going further and further. They have endured longer because their music is primarily emotional, where VU's is more physical. Compositions on "Live-Dead," like "Dark Star" and "The Eleven," continue to carry more and more people across the Abyss. And with every trip, the Dead get stronger and stronger. 

The Abyss, as always, awaits.

(by Hank Neuberger, from the Daily Northwestern, 20 February 1970) 

May 15-16, 1970: Fillmore East, NYC & Temple Stadium, Philadelphia

ON TOUR WITH THE DEAD

Walking into American Airlines out at LaGuardia to meet the Dead on a May afternoon. People gathered around a taxi run up on a traffic island. NBC's filming the scene. A body lies in a pool of blood, partly covered with a yellow raincoat. 

"Yeah, he shot his girl friend and the cab driver. When he saw the cops coming, he blew his brains out." 

Sitting with Jon McIntire, their manager, waiting for the plane. A hand descends on his shoulder. 

Weir: Hey man, how you doing? 

McIntire: How'd you get here? 

Weir: We came in down there. The rest of the guys are waiting for their guitars. You can't miss them. 

McIntire: Yeah, I guess they do look kind of weird.

You don't interview Jerry Garcia; someone gets him started on a subject and the discussion goes on until it's time for him to leave. A radical film maker is in the hotel room, trying to convince him that he should help people channel their energies into the revolution. Garcia explains over and over that energy is an individual thing that finds its own natural outlet; if you try to channel it, you pervert it. The phone rings and Garcia has to leave for the Fillmore. It turns out the guy really wants Garcia to get a film of his shown between sets. 

The Dead are invariably victims of the 60-or-90-minute time limit imposed by the standard concert format. They just aren't into performing a set of precisely arranged, timeable songs that build to a prearranged climax and neatly end in a practiced encore. Their songs serve as a framework within which they make something happen each time. They're a take-off point for incredible jams. When the Dead do manage to get off in a one-hour set, it's just too painful to break it off. Mostly they just don't get off. Their last sets are legendary, going on into the night until band and audience are completely drained.

Three straight hours with the Dead. It begins with a gentle acoustic set - mostly stuff from the new album, then shifts into C&W with the New Riders, and peaks in the final electric set. 

The first time around it just didn't go. Hassles: plane two hours late, no dinner, no sound test, amplifier doesn't work, typical first show Fillmore audience. 

Idiot: Go back to electric! 

Garcia (gently): Relax, man. It's gonna be all right. 

For the Dead it was. Gently building to its own soft climax. Substituting in New Riders at various points for mandolin and guitar, Garcia going briefly electric. Weir so up by the end of the set that he wanders around backstage with his guitar, playing the last song over and over again. Finally coming to rest under the light on the balcony of the stairs to the dressing rooms. Nobody can hear him over the between-set records on the sound system, but a crowd of backstage people gathers anyway just for the picture.

The audience merely tolerated the set. 

"All right, Riders, let's ride." 

So Garcia and Hart lead them out. Marmaduke, songwriter, lead singer, rhythm guitar; Dave Nelson, lead guitar; Dave Torbert, bass. Nervous, introverted - their first tour, their first New York appearance. Three guys kicking around Marin County playing folk music who got to know Jerry Garcia. When Garcia's pedal steel interest got to be too much for a few C&W numbers in the middle of a set, he got together the New Riders.

A solid C&W set. The audience is getting interested. The New Riders finish off with an incredible "Honky Tonk Woman" that goes on and on. The audience finally gets off. The New Riders come off the stage elated, but soon withdraw again waiting for the second set.

Groupie: Gee, Jerry, you've shaved. 

Garcia: Yep, I've shaved. 

Actually out in the audience for the first time waiting for the Dead to go on. Incomprehensible red fists reach up on the drums.

Zygote: When did you first add the fists? 

Hart: We added the fists at MIT. 

Zygote: Was this after Kent State? 

Hart: No, it was before that. The Cambodia thing had just started and they were starting a student strike. 

Zygote: Does this mean you're getting more political? 

Hart: It's not that we're political, at this point it's survival. We've been part of the revolution a long time, you know, it's just that we're not political. 

Garcia: All that stuff is a waste of fucking time, man. When you get into the whole political trip, you find yourself going to the politicians and you realize that it's all super sensational and that those fuckers don't know what they're talking about. I should think that all that stuff is going to like die away. 

Zygote: What's going to happen? 

Garcia: I don't know. I don't think it's going to be safe to play a scene like this. You know, I don't think it's even going to be safe to have long hair. There's an emphasis [on] change and it's because of all the political shit that has to happen. But like the thing that I do is play music. The rest - you know - I just try to avoid the rest of it.

The set starts building with "Casey Jones" and peaks with "St. Stephen." They calm down into "That's It for the Other One." Hart and Kreutzmann get off. Delicate, together, four arms - two extensions of the same being. They conclude with "Cosmic Charlie." It fits the audience. 

Cosmic Charlie, how do you do, 

Shuckin' on down the avenue? 

Dum de dum, de doodleley do, 

Come on home, your mama's callin' you.

Everybody's up cheering. They come back and wrap it up with "New, New Minglewood Blues." 

Zygote: Last night it seemed that everything was set up to build. You started off acoustic, then went to the Riders, and finished off electric. Last time you were here, you sort of went the other way: you started off very big, then went acoustic, then back to the electric. 

Garcia: Right. 

Zygote: Does this format change from thing to thing... 

Garcia: Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't, but mainly we're working with that format of starting with the acoustic stuff and building it up from there. You know, with the New Riders it provides a convenient bridge because we can get a huge range. 

Zygote: Last night, the audience at the first set seemed to have a really hard time getting off on the acoustic... 

Garcia: Yeah, it requires a little concentration. 

Zygote: Was the second show better? 

Garcia: Oh yeah, the first show wasn't a bad show, though the audience was kind of a drag. 

Saturday afternoon, Temple Stadium. Philadelphia. Backstage is one end of the stadium marked off by a wooden snow fence. Somehow, three kids have bluffed their way back there and are talking to Jerry Garcia. 

First Kid: Where's Ken Kesey? Is he with you? 

Garcia: No, he's out in Southern California right now. 

Second Kid: How about Owsley, is he here? 

Garcia: No, Owsley can't leave the Bay Area. 

Second Kid: Can't he? 

Garcia: No, he just got out of jail. 

Second Kid: Did he? 

First Kid: The new album, what will it be like? 

Garcia: I like it better than any album we've done. 

First Kid: That's all we do is sit around and get smashed and listen to that album... 

Garcia: We get smashed and make them... 

Second Kid: You want to come over and see the place when you get done? 

Garcia: No, no. We're flying out right afterwards. 

Third Kid: We went all the way up to New York to see you last time. 

Garcia: You should have been there last night, man. That was one of the best gigs we've played. 

Third Kid: Yeah? 

Garcia: Yeah. 

Second Kid: It must be a bummer here. 

Garcia: We'll try not to make it a bummer. We'll try to make it at least fair. 

First Kid: Is Ron going to sing today? 

Garcia: Pigpen? 

First Kid: Yeah. 

Garcia: Yeah, oh sure. He always sings a couple of tunes. Sure wish there was some sunshine. This grey shit stinks. 

Third Kid: It stinks, man. There's never sunshine here. 

Garcia: Really? What do you think of Philadelphia? 

Third Kid: It sucks. 

Garcia: I don't know, man. I've never been here long enough to tell what it's like. We've had a few great times here. 

There's a label on Garcia's big red Gibson: "Blackjack Garcia, the baddest fuckin' guitarist in the world." He checks the guitar carefully before each performance, wiping the strings, debating whether he should replace them or not.

Cactus so loud you can only make out occasional words. Lesh and Garcia worried about threatening sky - rain clause in their contract after Woodstock where Garcia was getting bad shocks from his guitar. Garcia and Lesh into a song about rain. The words are unintelligible but everybody laughs. 

Mickey Hart is off by himself drumming along with Cactus on the top of an amplifier, looking a bit like a little kid with a baseball hat perched up on top of his head. The mood is good. The Dead are just rapping with anybody who walks up. 

Sam Cutler, the road manager, hassling back and forth from the promoter to the Dead. Scheduled to go on at 6:00 and catch 9:30 plane. Already 6:30 and Steve Miller is just setting up. Miller agrees to change with the Dead so they can make the plane. The promoter's mad. Equipment has to be changed. More delays. The rain comes. A big black plastic sheet envelops the stage, covering everything but the side toward the audience. Too low - depressing. Like playing under a rock ledge. 

More Hassles. The people with backstage passes have been sitting in the area between the snow fence and the stage all day. The management sends in three heavies and clears the area. Things are going sour. 

The guards leave - the Dead come on - the fence goes up in the air - the front of the stage is packed with dancing people. Dead jamming away. Dragon's fire flares up behind the amplifiers - the smoke rolls out from under the plastic. 

People in the back calling for the dancers to sit down. More rain. 

Lesh: Sit down, stand up. Sit down, stand up. Why don't you all take off your clothes and get wet. 

In the middle of "Speedway Boogie" - song about Altamont. More heavies clearing the front of the stage again. End of song - Cutler half-heartedly apologizing, something about a clause the management put in the contract that the area has to be cleared. Band yelling "Bullshit," Lesh muttering, "One small match, that's all you need." 

Lesh: I thought they were going to rip the thing down. I was going to yell "Tear down the walls." 

Zygote: They were too hung up. 

Lesh: Yeah, well that's what walls are for, to hang up people. 

"New, New Minglewood Blues" - half-hearted, keeps the set going. Pigpen out in front for "Lovelight." The Dead are off again. Jamming on and on. Cherry bomb goes off on last beat. More smoke. It's over.

The management is more pissed. The set ran 20 minutes over.

Rushing to get equipment loaded for the plane. Short one vehicle. The management refuses to help. "They didn't cooperate with us, why should we cooperate with them." Promoter hassling equipment men. "Hurry up and get your shit out of here." Standing in their way. The equipment guy mutters something and the promoter attacks him. Both are swinging. Our photographer begins shooting. We're scared - the promoter's heavies are moving in.

The fight stops in time. Nervously standing around a pile of instruments making arrangements, in front of a row of glaring ex-pugilists. We end up driving the equipment to the airport, thankful to get the hell out of here.  

"I don't think it's going to be safe to play a scene like this. You know, I don't think it's even going to be safe to have long hair. There's an emphasis [on] change and it's because of all the political shit that has to happen. But like the thing that I do is play music. The rest - you know - I just try to avoid the rest of it."

"It's not that we're political; at this point it's survival."

(by Harry Jackson, from Zygote vol. 1 no.4, July 22, 1970)

(Zygote had earlier run two reviews of the Dead's 3/21/70 Port Chester shows - here and here.)

https://archive.org/details/gd_nrps70-05-15.sbd.reynolds-kaplan.29473.shnf 

https://archive.org/details/gd70-05-16.aud.cotsman.17027.sbeok.shnf 

February 2, 1970: Fox Theatre, St. Louis & 1973 Panegyric for Pigpen

PIGPEN: GRATITUDE FOR THE DEAD

 

What do you say about a 27-year-old drunk who died? Well, perhaps a thing or two. When I heard that the body of Ron "Pigpen" McKernan had been found in his Marin County apartment, I immediately remembered a Greateful Dead concert of a couple of years ago. For sheer energetic joy I still think it is the best rock concert I've ever been to, and Pigpen was the star. 

The concert was in February of 1970 at a marvelous neo-Babylonian movie theater in St. Louis called the Fox. It was, I believe, the first rock concert to be held there; theretofore, management had always resisted rock's barbarian incursions, but as one of America's worst ghettos closed in on midtown St. Louis, they had decided, I think, to get as much money out of the place as possible before the whole fabric of Mid-Western Civilization went ping. They had spades, why not hippies? 

The ambience of the theater had a lot to do with making the occasion so memorable. The lobby of the theater was about the size of the Boston Garden and it was decorated with what appeared to be all the artifacts left over after David Wark Griffith finished "Intolerance." There were waterfalls everywhere, lambent over limestone, so that the place had the cool feel and the fresh, gritty smell of the Carlsbad Caverns. There were huge porcelain elephants stationed at either side of a flowing marble staircase - well, it looked like marble - enormous bulbous (pun intended) chandeliers and huge phony torches jutting out from the walls, held by swags. That place was a motherfucker. 

So the people who came to the concert were already in a state of wonder even before the music started. Plus - remember, this was the Midwest, and not really all that far from the South - it was even at that late date one of the first signs that there was this enormous community around St. Louis of the sort of people who go to Grateful Dead concerts. I hadn't realized that there were that many freaks in Missouri, thousands of them, as if you had shaken every commune in the Ozarks and in the rich Missouri bottomland around Columbia, dumped the contents into Volkswagen buses, and given them all a shove down I-44 and I-70 towards St. Louis. A lot of them probably hadn't seen each other since (a) Woodstock; (b) Jimmy Driftwood's folk festival in Mountain View, Ark.; (c) the Kansas pot harvest. It was like a reunion; the whole hip scene was on the verge of turning into an overbearing drag or worse in the wake of Altamont and the psychedelic hard-sell, but there was a lot of untapped innocence lurching hairily around the Fox Theater in St. Louis that night three years ago. 

The concert started about two hours late. The Grateful Dead had been busted for possession of marijuana a couple of days before in New Orleans and the seven tons of equipment that they hauled around the country had been impounded in lieu of bond or something. A lot of it had just arrived and had been too hastily assembled and besides the PA wasn't working very well, so Owsley Augustus Stanley III, keeper of the ohms, was hopping around kicking various pieces of heavy electronic equipment like a rube at a used car lot. 

Owsley was sending various roadies and quippies scurrying after parts and tools and cursing everybody from Thomas Alva Edison on. For a while, it looked like things would never start because Owsley was in charge and things had better be JUST RIGHT for him because he was sensitive to the slightest untoward wiggle in the holy vibrations the Dead were going to send up to the sky, thence to fall like manna on the hungry ears of earth. I mean, THIS WIRE DOES NOT BELONG HERE.

Finally, though, Owsley was appeased and after a brief set by a warm-up group, the Dead came out. In those days, they were just getting into the sweet country harmonies that showed up under the influence of David Crosby and Graham Nash, and they opened the set with three or four numbers in the "Workingman's Dead" manner. If I tell you that was the first night I heard "Uncle John's Band," their most exalted song, and it turns out they actually didn't do that one until later in history, put it down to the memory striving Platonically for perfection but do believe me, I remember the last half of the concert very clearly. 

After a long and not entirely satisfactory trip down tape-loop lane, the music slowly evolved to a vaguely familiar chord and the trace of a melody began creeping through, somewhere in the interplay between Garcia's guitar and Lesh's bass line. There was a pause, and the three stringed men leaned into their microphones and sang into the silence: 

"St. Stephen with a rose, 

In and out of the garden he goes..." 

At that, a kid in the front row yelped and leapt to his feet as if someone had jabbed him in the ass with an ice-pick. Then everyone was up, and the band took off. There was boogie in the aisles and romping in the balcony, and it wasn't any of your half-assed obligatory Led Zeppelin kind of boogie, nor any of your Seconal and Sopors Black Sabbath stumble-fucks, this was joyous aisle-stomping. It kept up for half an hour and the band never let up, as they sometimes do, never let the beat dwindle away, and toward the end the music was building to a huge vibrating crescendo. People were screaming and bouncing around and hugging each other, whole aisles were dancing with their arms around each other like rock and roll Rockettes. 

And then...along came Pigpen. He had been shaking a tambourine in a bemused sort of way, holding it up by his ear as if it were a seashell and he was listening for the ocean, but now he put it down on top of a speaker and walked to the front of the stage, with Garcia, Lesh, and Weir stretched out behind him. He was wearing a big-brimmed cowboy hat with the sides rolled up, and the hat band was actually a swash of colored cloth that hung down in back by his long pigtail. 

With the band rocking along behind him, he picked a microphone off a stand and held it out in front of him the way a knife-fighter would. He made a dagger gesture with the mike and, even though he didn't move his feet, his body seemed to make a little rush forward at the audience. He poked again at the audience with the mike and the band cut back on the volume and left him a hole. Glaring at the audience as if he had just caught the whole bunch of them in bed with his old lady, but with a thin smile at the corner of his lips, he stepped forward and then began to sing: 

"Without a warning...you broke my heart." 

His body began to rock back and forth, the band came in louder and stronger than ever and buddy, that was all she wrote. Pigpen shouted and growled and screamed, he made little rushes across the stage, he did his Big Mama Thornton routine and his Otis Redding routine and his Little Richard routine and the place just went crazy as he hopped around the stage, screaming again and again, "Turn on your lovelight... Turn on your lovelight." As the concert came to a close with explosions of drums and shrieking of guitars, and the applause and cheers began swelling up from the audience, a tall black woman with the biggest Afro in town jumped up on stage and began hugging and kissing Pigpen, swinging him around like a doll. Pigpen just went limp in her arms and, for the first time all night, he grinned. 

In those days, Pigpen gulped down staggering quantities of cheap wine and liquor, but for the last year and a half of his life, he drank no alcohol at all. Since 1971, when he first went into the hospital with problems in his liver, stomach, and colon, he had appeared less and less with the Grateful Dead. There was the sense, at least from the outside, that the band had grown away from his kind of music anyway, the simple, raucous harp and organ rhythm and blues riffs he had absorbed through his father, a Berkeley R&B disc jockey in the Fifties. Jerry Garcia credited Pigpen with turning an acoustic group called Mother McCrees Uptown Jugband toward the electric blues in the early days in Palo Alto. 

Rock Scully, who became the manager of the band in 1966, about the time they discovered there already was a group called the Warlocks and stumbled on the words "Grateful Dead" in Phil Lesh's dictionary, told me, "Ron will be sorely missed; he was our bluesman." Scully recalled that, when he first met McKernan, "He was about the funkiest looking dude in the world - even the Angels were clean looking compared to him." 

But, Scully said, "He was really a quiet, introspective dude, he generally kept to himself." 

Last April, Scully recalled, Pigpen joined the Dead for a two-month tour of Europe. "It was his first outing with the band in eight months. He had been sick and operated on in the upper colon, and he had ulcers and I guess a hepatetic liver, but he said he was back on his feet and ready to work. 

"We traveled in two buses, and for some reason he insisted on hanging out in back of one of the buses. The buses bounced around a lot and I guess it was really bumpy back there over the rear wheels. He got thrown on to the floor a few times, and I'm sure all that bouncing didn't do his liver any good. But he seemed to be in good spirits.

"At the end of the tour, he came directly back to California, and about five days later we heard he was in the hospital and they had opened him up again. He hadn't drunk anything for almost a year, but apparently it was too late. He had what is called a terminal liver, we found out later, and he had developed pneumonia and he was just in terrible shape. 

"In mid-June, he made the Hollywood Bowl concert, that was the last one. He still looked just terrible and we said, 'Hey, go back in the hospital.'" 

McKernan did go back to the hospital and later moved in with his parents in Palo Alto and lived a quiet life, seldom leaving the house. "As far as we knew he was getting better," Scully said. 

He did seem to be feeling better and around the first of the year he moved into his own apartment in Marin County, where the other members of the Dead live. 

Scully said, "He came to the Dead office maybe 12 hours before he died. He died Tuesday night or Wednesday morning sometime, and during the day on Tuesday [March 6] he came to the office in San Rafael and said the doctor didn't see any reason why he shouldn't go back to work with the band. We were overjoyed. We were going into the studio in April to record, and we thought he was going to be with us. 

"So it was a terrible shock when we were told his body had been found. And we still haven't figured out if he knew all along that he was dying and just didn't want to lay that on us."

(by Harper Barnes, from the Real Paper, Boston, 4 April 1973)

 

Lovelight from 2/2/70 was released on Dave's Picks 6.

See also Barnes' original show review: 

http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2012/03/february-2-1970-fox-theater-st-louis.html 

& http://deadessays.blogspot.com/2010/03/pigpen.html

March 22-23, 1970: Pirate's World, Dania, Florida

GOOD TIMES BAD TIMES

 

There were two big surprises at Pirate's World this past weekend involving rock concerts. 

The first was the super show Country Joe and the Fish put on Friday and Saturday night before average-sized crowds. Most expected little, got a big high, and left happy. 

The second surprise was the down feeling left by the Grateful Dead after performances on Sunday and Monday night. Most went expecting the best show ever. They left disappointed. 

 

Country Joe and his group fooled around for many years before hitting it in a big way. In fact, the spring of 1969 was the turning point. Only Joe McDonald and Barry Melton were still around from the original group. The decision was made to try the hard rock scene, and the other three making up the group were not hard to find. 

Now McDonald is the lead vocal and Melton the lead guitar, doing some vocal as well. Mark Kapner, who grooves to the organ, piano and uke, has been with the Fish since the spring. Drummer Greg Dewey left Mad River to join the Fish, while Doug Metzler left New York's top underground band, the Group Image, to join this group. 

The original Fish got together in 1965, specializing in light rock, blues, even a little country. It soon was obvious that this combination wasn't going to work, so the hard rock style was adopted. 

Since the group's rebirth in '69, gigs have been easy to come by. The Woodstock Festival was one of the early stops. Soon followed the New Orleans Pop Festivals and the Thunderbird Peach Festival in Canada. A world tour ended back in New York at the Fillmore. 

This year the group has been going better than ever. The release of a fifth LP helped, but the concert this past weekend set off the group for good in South Florida. 

The start of the music was greeted with little attention and less applause. The people were rapping with each other, with the Fish playing in the background. Then a feeling swept through all assembled. Soon the attention was focused on the stage. 

Country Joe swung into "Summer Dress" and "Sun A Rocket" with the kids starting to get into it. It wasn't until the last 20 minutes of the hour and 40 minute concert that the people were set off. 

When McDonald invoked a trick used often by B.B. King the people got hep. He invited the crowd to sing along as the group rocked into the top single "The Love Machine." The 15 minute version of the cut was the final wonder of a pile of wonders. 

Mick Jagger said it best for this group when he was quoted: "It's the singer, not the song." 

Country Joe proved this cliche this past week. 

 

There was a different type of crowd at Pirate's World Sunday and Monday night for the Grateful Dead. More hair and less teeny-boppers showed. It was obvious something heavy was going to happen. 

The Dead, who have shown in the past their dislike of the payed-for concert, put on a lackadaisical show that lasted for little over an hour. Few listened to the group. Less got into the sound. 

"The man in the streets isn't ready for our sound," said group leader Jerry Garcia several months ago in ROLLING STONE. "Rendering to Caesar what is Caesar's is groovy," says second man Phil Lesh. "As long as you render to God's what is God's. But now Caesar demands it all, and we gotta be straight with God first." 

One of the many problems the Grateful Dead have encountered is their inability to cope with the straight world. The original group that became the Dead, the Warlocks, "were already on the crazy-eyed fanatic trip," according to Garcia. 

Seldom does the group go on stage without every member being in some state of drug-induced euphoria. They say they do better while stoned. 

Jerry said: "Okay, so you take LSD and suddenly you are aware of another plane, or several other planes, and the quest is to extend that limit, to go as far as you can go. In the Acid Tests, that meant to do away with the old forms, with old ideas, try something new!" 

He felt this was one of the keys to the sound. 

For some reason or other, the Grateful Dead did not put on a heavy show last weekend. Maybe this area doesn't dig the sound or the members of the group. Maybe the trip the Dead are on is coming to an abrupt end.

 

(by Angelo Rescinti, from the Hollywood Sun-Tattler, March 27, 1970) 

https://archive.org/details/gd70-03-24.sbd.miller.32054.sbeok.flacf 

http://lostlivedead.blogspot.com/2015/04/march-24-1970-pirates-world-dania-fl.html

November 22, 1970: Middlesex County College, Edison NJ

What a Weekend: "Rhinoceros" and the Grateful Dead 

CONCERT DRAWS CAPACITY CROWD 

 

The "Grateful Dead" and "New Riders of the Purple Sage" drew a capacity crowd at this year's first rock concert. 

The enthusiastic crowd was out of their seats for the greater part of the electrifying five hour performance. 

Before the concert started I had the pleasure of sitting in on a rhap session [sic] with the stage hands, marshals, and the Dead themselves.  

When someone asked one of the Dead if he liked what he was doing (the "Dead" have changed their sound somewhat lately), he replied "If we didn't like what we were doing we wouldn't be doing it." 

As for how they choose what songs to play, he said, "We don't know what we are going to do until we get out there. We just do what we really can get into at the time." 

His answer to "How are you guys doing now?" was "We get by. We can pay the rent, ya know?" 

Finally he stood up and grabbing an attache case he said, "I better go see how things are going on stage." 

I spent the rest of the time waiting for the concert to begin by watching stage hands making last minute preparations, testing equipment, lights, etc... 

The first half of the program was "The New Riders of the Purple Sage." Their sound is basically country-western. However, the steel guitar, which is featured throughout most of the tunes, gives an added dimension to the style. It took a while for the crowd to get into it, but once they did, they seemed to have a lot of fun with it. 

The "Grateful Dead" put on a very well balanced show. Some of the numbers were fast with long, well performed guitar rides. They also played some new arrangements of old songs like the Young Rascals' "Good Lovin." And they played some light, slow blues numbers. 

I was especially pleased with the volume level of the instruments. It wasn't so loud that it left you deaf for the next two days. There was a good balance between the volume of the instruments and the volume of the vocals in all but a few songs. 

The audience and the band worked together to bring the performance to a very exciting conclusion. 

From the standpoint of the "Dead's" performance and the crowd's enjoyment, the concert was a great success. However, I fear that there are many elements connected with the concert that will almost surely upset the whole future concert scene at MCC. 

I am hinting at the abundance of drugs, bogus tickets, and people getting in free because they knew someone.

 

(by Marshall Reid, from Quo Vadis, December 2, 1970) 

 

Alas, no tape! 

 

http://lostlivedead.blogspot.com/2012/03/november-22-1970-middlesex-county.html

Fall 1970: Garcia Interview at the Matrix

SAN FRANCISCO 

The Grateful Dead is the complete integration of music and musician. The one is of the other, just as it works the other way around. 

"You know how the music sounds now?" Jerry Garcia, lead guitarist of the Dead is speaking. "You know how it sounds now? That's the way we're living now. That's a little holograph of our life. That's what we're saying, if we're saying anything." 

The new music Garcia refers to is represented by the semi-acoustic work on their last album, "Workingman's Dead." A distinct departure from previous offerings, it features some fine vocal harmonies with the emphasis on songs and away from the long electronic improvisations that were their trademark. 

The Dead's legendary loose structure has grown more complex, if no less loose. Garcia is playing pedal steel guitar regularly with the New Riders of the Purple Sage, a rollicking country band (as is Dead drummer Mickey Hart). Further, he is about to record an album with local organist Howard Wales in a small combo. This particular night at The Matrix he was to join Merl Saunders, a black keyboard man who has played with Miles Davis among others, in what Garcia calls "the Monday night band." 

What this, along with the musical meanderings of other Dead, has done is to broaden the musical perspective of the band immeasurably. Give it more universality, as Garcia tells it. 

To him, the music is developed from or by the strong interpersonal relationships within the group. "It's all ideas we've evolved through contact with each other all this time. We've been a little independent structure growing in some direction completely sideways to everybody else." 

It is this bond and the music that comes from it that leads to what Garcia terms the "Dead mystique." "The world I live in doesn't have any Grateful Dead. I'm not into the mystique in terms of it coming to me and my being impressed by it. Because it's about me and us." 

Though the album has sold moderately well, it is by no means a smash. "Our success is highly over-touted," says Garcia. The Dead are steadily coming out of debt, but are still far more in than out. "Those realities (of money) were never particularly hard to us, that's why we were $80,000 in debt." 

The Grateful Dead won their wings, so to speak, at Ken Kesey's Acid Tests (made famous by Tom Wolfe's Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test), where they were the band. Today, when the psychedelic revolution seems to have taken a more violent turn, both Weir and Garcia disavow any relationship to the violence. "Violent people are all on the same side," was Garcia's comment. 

Violence, he feels, gets all the attention of the media and so it becomes what people believe in. "All the things that were going on in Acid Test days are still going on. Only much farther out and much more subtle. It's for damn sure that no one's going to be talking about it, because that's what happened last time." 

Free concerts, something very close and dear to that Dead mystique, have taken on a different perspective for them too. The Grateful Dead may have invented the free concert in the park ideal that eventually led up to Woodstock, but now the situation has gotten out of hand. "That whole free music scene is a completely faulty viewpoint of what's going on in music or what music really is." Garcia is especially articulate about this. "Free, to us, was always a reciprocal trip. We were free to do it or not. When we were free to do it or not, we sometimes chose to do it. 

"Now the thing about free music as defined by the Woodstock Nation trip is let's make it free. But music isn't free. Everyone of those musicians who plays music has paid for that fucking music with his life. 

"The word free is sadly overworked. Nothing is really free. Money is a symbol of a certain kind of energy exchange that most people are too lame to ever be able to come to in their own terms in some groovy way." 

Somewhere about this point the manager of the club called out to Jerry and made a strumming motion with his hand. It was time to go on. 

A bit later, the combo was cooking. Bob Weir was leaning back near the wall enjoying the music. Garcia was playing out of every imaginable bag. First sounding like Steve Cropper, playing tight rhythmic chords, and then, almost out of nowhere, a little belch of feedback and some freaky, spaced out run. He was just picking anything and articulating. 

(by Joel Selvin, from the Music section, Earth magazine, January 1971) 

https://archive.org/details/sim_earth-council-economic-priorities_1971-01_2_1/mode/2up?q=garcia 

October 17, 1970: Music Hall, Cleveland OH

THE GRATEFUL DEAD LIVEN THINGS UP

 

They've got an organist nicknamed "Pig Pen." 

They played background music for the world's foremost heart surgeon, Dr. Christian Barnard. 

So how can you explain the Grateful Dead? 

No matter, they're alive and kicking and they plan to pump some life into this old town tomorrow night at 8 in Music Hall. 

"And it'll be way out! We've never been here before. That's why we're coming," said their road manager Sam Cutler, calling from San Francisco. 

Out? This San Francisco six-pack has been "in" in the wild West for almost six years. There probably has never been a band like them before and probably never will be. 

They are more of a performing band than a recording band, even though they have five albums. They haven't had million-selling singles. Followers translate it like this: "They've never sold out." 

San Franciscans are said to love them. The Grateful Dead may have given more free concerts than any other band in the history of the world. 

This is the group that lived and loved and played their hearts out in the Haight-Ashbury area before flower power. Then boomed and bloomed along with it. 

"They were a part of the whole thing. They were right there before it started," said Cutler. 

Yea, you've guessed it. We couldn't raise any of the Dead. But no matter. Cutler is listed as "Executive Nanny" on the group's Warner Bros. "Workingman's Dead" album. And he's better than a canned release, right? 

"The Grateful Dead have always played music. Not this rock 'n roll teeny stuff, they're real musicians," added Cutler. 

Surprisingly, the Dead's bag hasn't been exactly acid rock. More straightforward blues. They record for Warner Bros. But then how can you label them? 

"The Grateful Dead will be performing by themselves as it is very difficult for any other group to play on the same show," reads the prose from Belkin Productions. Fair enough. 

Any other group would be deadlocked. The Dead have been known to go on for five or six hours. 

"One time at Fillmore East they played 10 hours. Yea, they had to send out for sandwiches. But mostly they [play] about three hours," said Cutler. 

Two weekends ago at San Francisco's Winterland they sold out to 9,000. It was a benefit concert with the Jefferson Airplane and Quicksilver Messenger Service. WIXY co-sponsors tomorrow's concert. 

So who are these Dead-beats, if you will excuse the pun. 

The lively lineup: Jerry Garcia, lead guitar and vocals; Bob Weir, rhythm guitar and vocals; Phil Lesh, bass and vocals; Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann, drums; and Pig Pen, (Ron McKernan), organ and vocals. 

They're mostly in their late 20's. 

Garcia is the funky-looking one with the black curly hair and beard. A real TV nut. He has done session work on Airplane and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young LP's. 

"He plays guitar all the time. I've even seen him playing at breakfast," said Cutler. 

Weir at one time had the weirdest hairdo in show biz, sort of like overgrown Shredded Wheat, but that's a hard record to keep with all the young talent coming up. Weird is the youngest. He joined at 16. 

"Phil Lesh is the oldest in the group, although I don't think he'd appreciate you mentioning that," thought Cutler. "Lesh took classical violin, I think." 

Mickey Hart is the latest addition. 

"And is his drumming far out. He's played with Hendrix and Basie. And done a lot of studio stuff," said Cutler. The other drummer, Kreutzmann, is more of a swinging type. He has played with the Airplane and Crosby, Stills. 

And that brings us up to "Pig Pen," Yes, you'd have to say that he dresses like an unmade sleeping bag on Skid Row. Is he the leader? 

"No way! He's the least vocal in every sense, the most shy. He used to be a blues guitarist in a jug band with Garcia once," said Cutler. Former Dead men Bill Sommers and Tom Constanten left for other fields. 

The Grateful Dead, friends on and off stage, live within 10 miles of each other in Marin County. They've known each other about 10 years. Three - Hart, Kreutzmann, and Weir - have ranches. Weir's is called "The Rukky Rukky Stud Ranch." 

Garcia lives in a house with Bob Hunter, often called the seventh Grateful Dead. Garcia and Hunter write the material. 

The group's music was used as background on Dr. Barnard's record of a heart transplant explanation. 

Of course with a name like the Grateful Dead there's bound to be some lively confusion. We've already had two phone calls from middle-agers asking if it was some kind of offbeat religious experience. 

Maybe they're right, in a way. 

(by Jane Scott, from the Cleveland Plain Dealer, 16 October 1970) 

 

Thanks to Dave Davis. 

* * * 

GRATEFUL DEAD

REVIEWED 

 

One expected ancient lorgnette-bearing dowagers swathed in mink to sail in on the arms of gentlemen in full evening attire. That is the mood that Music Hall evokes with its ruby plush seats and gilded decor. It was an odd place for Cleveland's first get-together with the notorious Grateful Dead, San Francisco's legendary underground group, who have tried to stay underground, despite minor success. The group was involved with Ken Kesey and his acid tests, they were the first band to live communally, and they are one of the few groups who have survived this long - over five years. 

I must admit I am not a 'Grateful Dead freak,' a particular sort of human being whom, it is said, and I agree, is the only person who can fully appreciate this group, a group that plays for a particular sort of community and not for everyone. My only attempt at meeting minds with them was when I fell in love with the Jefferson Airplane and was wondering if there were anyone else out in San Francisco half so good. There wasn't. My lack of familiarity partly accounts for the fact that I can't mention by name any of the songs they did - you certainly couldn't hear the lyrics. I might feel badly if this were relevant, but it's not. The Dead are not Creedence Clearwater Revival or Blood Sweat and Tears. They are polar opposites of those groups who give you their ten big hits, leave and come back to play their latest hit as an encore. In fact, the Dead are said to have been the first rock group to stretch the limits of the rock song, playing the open-ended pieces that earlier had been heard only in jazz. Of course, this has now become commonplace, and we have heard many "Creams" stifle songs to death by sheer length. I came expecting this to be a strike against the Dead. I'd heard of their long, ambling, pointless playing, the perfect 'acid rock' (if that term means anything at all), noise accessible only to those with outside influence on their brains. 

The Dead surprised me. I had been aware of the changes they've been going through. I've heard "Workingman's Dead," their latest album, with its heavy flavouring of country and rhythm and blues. Their concert smacked heavily of this, with a bit of blues as well, and was far more structured and controlled than I'd expected. Jerry Garcia, leader and often called 'guru,' plays in a style marvelously removed from the little-English-boy-imitating-BB King school. His lines flow less expectedly than that (though there can be beauty in that expectation) and are full of odd rhythms and wide intervals. They bound back and forth while still hanging together perfectly well. 

The voices, including Garcia, second guitarist Bob Weir, 'organist' (and tambourine beater) Ron 'Pigpen' McKernan, and bassist Phil Lesh, are all rough and nasal. The combined effort smacks of Poco, or the Byrds, or Neil Young. Peculiar to the group is its use of two drummers - Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzman. Astonishingly, this really adds something to the group as the two drummers work in counter-points, not in noise competition. Weir's light, smooth guitar work offers Garcia a foil. Lesh's bass lines are rich and enormous, but I'm afraid Pigpen will never be the equal of Marty Balin on tambourine. With all this going on, the group still displays a rather rare clarity, never seeming noisy. 

The first half of the concert, the music half, opened with a bright countryish piece with lyrics about trains and cocaine (yeah, it rhymes!). This was followed by a handful of fairly short songs, going into a brief (!) drum duet full of strange sounds and complex flurrying beats placed over simple rhythms. A rapid pulsing piece full of vital life energy was followed by a nearly traditional blues which sounded somehow startling. Then a very rude country piece (vocals by Pigpen) gave way to a long, twisting, dancing piece that closed that half of the set. One freak was indeed dancing, but he must have had a transistor plugged in his ear. He jerked wildly, alternately stabbing his hands at his armpits and the ceiling. But the balloons floating through the hall seemed sensitive to the rhythms of the music. 

After the intermission, the house lights stayed up and the concert became an 'event,' a community of the sort the Dead are famous for creating. They never went back to their acid background music - the music was secondary to the audience itself, as it packed the aisles, clapped, wiggled, screamed and even snake-danced (though I think that's a rather forced show of spiritedness). It was hard to hear, see, or even breathe, but for musical purposes the concert was over. The Dead were playing to get people out of themselves. 

It ended most strangely. The Dead set off pink firecrackers and left the stage to a tumultuous ovation and finally, compelled to come back, finished with their LATEST (and only) HIT - 'Uncle John's Band.' It was a surrealistic finish to a wild night.

 

(by Stacey Pantsios, from the Scene (Cleveland), 22 October 1970)

https://archive.org/details/gd1970-10-17.aud.linton.miller.119329.flac16 

See also: 

http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2015/12/october-17-1970-cleveland-music-hall.html 

http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2019/08/october-17-1970-music-hall-cleveland-oh.html

October 16, 1970: Irvine Auditorium, Philadelphia PA

GRATEFUL DEAD TURN ON ONE TURNED-ON CROWD

 

Marijuana in the air. Find your seat before the start. Are the Dead next? Look at the ceiling, will you? Dozens of different mosaics. Has Irvine ever looked so freaky? Shh. Here they come. 

The Grateful Dead, your original San Francisco acid-rock band, formerly mad LSD freaks on the Merry Pranksters dayglo bus, famous for hour-long psychedelic versions of half-hour album cuts, the first band with two drummers, partial inventors of the rock and roll light show, participants in the Haight-Ashbury summer of love, featured in a Life magazine article on hippies. 

Here they are, folks, the fire marshal has asked me to remind you that there is no smoking in Irvine Auditorium. 

A living legend. 

Three thousand cheering fans stand in the aisles, fill up the orchestra pit, crowd the stage, hang from the speakers, dance in the balcony, cavort in the lobby, mob the dressing room, hug their neighbors, pass the joint, gawk at the mosaics, and get ready for two hours of fine rock and roll. 

It took a handful of albums and a half a dozen years for the Dead to become big, national stars. Two weeks ago, it took only one song for the Dead  to convince the audience that they were as good as everyone said. 

Irvine Auditorium, on the Penn campus, was the location, and the excuse for the celebration was Drexel University's Homecoming. The theme of the weekend, according to the Drexel Homecoming Committee, was "Times Are Changing," and the evening proved they certainly were. 

It is very difficult to describe the music. Jerry Garcia's slinky guitar lines changed one song into another. Pigpen sang a funky version of "Turn on Your Love Light" and exploded occasional red smoke bombs for percussive emphasis. Adonis-like Bob Weir played second guitar with outstanding virtuosity, taciturn bassist Phil Lesh laid down a heavy, driving bottom, and dual drummers Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzman beat counter-rhythms on the skins. 

Songs would begin with a familiar hard-rocker ("Not Fade Away" or "Good Lovin'"), dissolve into a spacey break, come back with another song, another break, and, whew! 20 minutes later, the original song. 

Big hits were performed - "Love Light," "St. Stephen," "Dark Star," "Uncle John's Band," "Casey Jones," all the tunes calculated to get the audience screaming, clapping and dancing. 

The Dead played for a little over two hours, a very short set by their standards. They played no acoustics set, and their band-within-a-band, the country New Riders of the Purple Sage, never appeared. Yet everybody left satisfied and emotionally exhausted - even the 2000 fans who payed $5 each to get in. 

The next day, a Penn BMOC told me that the concert "will long be considered the cultural high-water mark of the fall semester." 

He's right, of course. 

It's not every day you get to see a legend and the reality turns out to be better than the fiction.

(by Dennis Wilen, from the Philadelphia Daily News, 29 October 1970) 

Alas, no tape!

November 20, 1970: Palestra, University of Rochester, NY

Airplane Drops In

GRATEFUL DEAD EXHILARATE AMAZED ROCK FANATICS

San Francisco's Grateful Dead played to an enthusiastic, near capacity audience in the Palestra two weeks ago. In the longest concert since last year's Buddy Guy-Luther Allison affair, the Dead rocked the Palestra until 3:30 am. And after that people were still screaming for more. 

The Dead first made their appearance on the rock scene in the late sixties, and along with the Jefferson Airplane and the Quicksilver Messenger Service, produced the well-known San Francisco sound. Since then, the group has adopted a more easy-going country style. It is the mixture of these two sounds that makes the Grateful Dead concert the exciting event it is. 

The evening's first set featured the New Riders of the Purple Sage, a group that formed this past spring. The Riders have been touring with the Dead, and feature the latter's Jerry Garcia on pedal steel guitar and Pig Pen on harmonica. Their music is country rock and when they started to get it together, the result was a good, solid, folky sound. They started off innocently enough, though, doing a collection of old standards such as "I Walk the Line," "Why, Oh Why," and "Portland Woman " - good, but nothing any second rate Nashville band couldn't have done. This became apparent during "Lodi," a song made popular by Creedence. It reeked of mediocrity. 

Then the band started to jell, and the feeling that seemed so distant in earlier numbers began to fill the Palestra. The set ended with a stirring rendition of "The Weight" which finally convinced me that someone knows what the words to the song actually mean. 

But even this was just a preview of what was to come. When the Dead finally appeared as a group to do part two of the concert, it was easy to see why they are considered one of today's top rock bands. Together for about six years, they have always been recognized as a fine instrumental group. Recently, they have incorporated three-part vocal harmonies in their sound and have established themselves as a talented vocal group, as well. 

Their selections reached as far back as their first album, from which they did "Cold Rain and Snow." But the bulk of their music came from later compositions, including a number of songs from their latest record, such as "Trucking," "Friend of the Devil," and "Candyman." One of the highlights of the evening was an inspired medley including "Saint Stephan," "Not Fade Away," and an interesting percussion solo featuring Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart. The solo thrived on a variety of rhythms and was able to come off as well as it did because both men seemed so very together. 

The Dead's second set ended with "Casey Jones," and those not high on cocaine were certainly high on something else - the Grateful Dead. But just to add a little icing to the cake, it was announced during intermission that some "friends from 'cross town" were coming down, and people were hugging each other over the prospect of the Jefferson Airplane showing up. 

The Dead returned to do a few more numbers, and by the time they were finishing up with "Uncle John's Band," it became apparent that a jam session really would take place, as Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Cassidy of the Airplane were seen backstage. 

Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir, on guitar, and Phil Lesh on bass, had been outstanding throughout the concert, but their talents were featured to an even greater extent during the ensuing jam. Jack Casady and Grace Slick, who were both present, never did get to perform. 

But by then, nobody really cared. Garcia, Kaukonen, and company were still amazing the UR's rock fanatics and no end was in sight. The session reached its high with "Reelin' and Rockin'," an old favorite, and kept up until early Saturday morning.

(by Jeff Newcorn, from the Campus-Times, University of Rochester, 4 December 1970) 

 

https://archive.org/details/gd70-11-20.aud.cotsman.9001.sbeok.shnf 

September 25, 1970: Pasadena Civic Auditorium, CA

THE DEAD LIVE IN PASADENA

It was a nice night for chucking out to the Pasadena Civic Auditorium. The evening air was nice and warm, and the headliners at the concert were none other than the Grateful Dead. I had heard all sorts of fascinating stories about the Dead, so it was with awe and wonderment that I approached the auditorium.
I have never attended a concert at the Pasadena Civic before, and I must say that the promoters of the show have found themselves a nice little place. The seating is comfortable; the stage is easily visible; and its acoustics are pretty good. There seemed to be a slight inconvenience for mutual ticket holders in that they had to wait in rather lengthy lines in order to exchange said slips of paper for the real thing. However, once inside everything was smooth, quiet and controlled.
This was the case as the first group of the evening performed. They were the New Riders of the Purple Sage, who are a group of lads who hang around and jam with the Dead. Performing with them was Jerry Garcia on pedal steel guitar. The set, which lasted for about an hour, was slow and unimpressive. And the band members were all so listless that I half expected them to crash right on stage any minute.
Musically, the Sages travel deep into Country and Western territory with an occasional stopover in Monotony. The only times that they managed to excite the audience to any appreciable extent was during their last two numbers, which were "The Wait" and "Honky Tonk Women." Instrumentally, they were loose and lazy with Garcia's slide work being the only sound that was comfortable to listen to.
Following their performance, there was a brief intermission wherein the audience milled about, met their neighbors, got stoned and above all, anxiously awaited the arrival of the Dead. After a few moments, the lights dimmed and the M.C. (a bearded pipe smoking freak) appropriately introduced the Dead as rockdom's most outrageous group.
The spotlights came on to reveal the Dead in all their grace and splendor. Jerry Garcia, the figurehead of the group, stepped forward and spoke to the audience. He was warm and friendly, which is surprising when one considers that his appearance closely resembles that of a grizzly bear wearing work clothes. This, of course, is due to the mass of black frizzy hair which covers his head and face except for his eyes and nose. As spokesman and lead guitarist for the group he is perfect.
After the opening remarks, they started off their set [with] "Casey Jones" which let the audience know right off that the Dead were in good shape tonight.
Following their first song, there was a slight delay during which time Garcia got the houselights turned up and the spotlights turned down so that the group and the audience could see one another. From then on, the show was out in the audience as well as on stage, because most of the crowd was up and dancing in the aisles as soon as the second number started.
It nearly goes without saying that the efforts of the crowds did not go unrewarded, for the Dead went on to play some of the finest San Francisco type music to be heard in a long time. As usual, almost all of the faster material broke into those long instrumental jams for which the Dead are famous. It was during these jams that Garcia displayed his talents on the guitar which have made him one of the most popular figures in the music scene. He plays with such apparent ease that he makes those long, high pitched leads of his look like child's play.
That evening, the Dead went on to play cuts that were representative of their past album efforts. The set also included a large dose of the Dead's new country material. The crowd loved all, although [--line missing--] slower material as they were with the faster stuff. This is due to the fact that when people come to a Grateful Dead concert, they are coming to move to the music, to dance to the music and not just listen to it. That is why everyone really went berserk during "Good Love" and "Mona," even though they aren't typical Dead material.
One can't really blame an audience for getting so excited during the Dead's performance because the mood and the tempo and the feeling of the music is just begging you to "get your hands out of your pockets" and freak, especially during a tune like the fast-paced "Good Love," which - besides being a rocker - was a vehicle for [a] double drum solo between Hart and Kreutzman. Other tunes that were performed that evening to the delight and enjoyment of all present were "Dark Star," "Easy Wind," and a slowed down rendition of "Candy Man."
But the highlight of the evening came when "Mona" trailed off and then turned into "Turn on Your Lovelight" which has got to be the most requested and favored Dead song of all time. Even the most stoned out downer freaks were up and dancing to this one. And why not? Garcia's riffs were high, flawless and clear, the drumming was tight, and the rest of the group's backing efforts were smooth and well integrated.
After "Lovelight," the Dead left the stage to the sound of an insatiable horde that could have listened to the Dead play all night. As it turned out, they only played for a measly hour and forty minutes.

(by Jacob Wiesel, from the Los Angeles Free Press, 2 October 1970)

Alas, no tape!

October 23, 1970: McDonough Gym, Georgetown U, Washington DC

TWO HEAVY ROCK GROUPS  [excerpt] 

Derek and the Dominos; Plus the Grateful Dead 

 

Things should really rock this week as Eric Clapton and Jerry Garcia roll into town just two days apart. 

Clapton's new group, Derek and the Dominos, will move into Lisner Auditorium at George Washington University on Wednesday evening, while Garcia's old, reliable Grateful Dead make their Washington debut Friday night at Georgetown University's McDonough Gymnasium. 

Clapton and Garcia have never appeared in Washington before (either alone or with any group), and these two concerts should not only provide good music for many of their old fans but may also introduce a lot of old people to the joys of good old rock 'n' roll. 

If someone asked me to name a band that would typify the real essence of rock, I'd immediately suggest the Dead. But to think that Derek and the Dominos will also be in easy earshot - well, that's almost too good to believe. [ . . . ] 

It's probably fair to say that people in rock audiences, for the most part, have rather limited musical backgrounds and will, quite regularly, cheer for whatever they are manipulated into cheering for. Audiences often approve ecstatically anything an artist does (and that's not true only of rock), regardless of how bad it may be. The result is that real musicians often may not enjoy playing. 

Imagine yourself performing what you consider an evening of music that never quite got together. You're not satisfied with your playing, you finish your set and walk off stage convinced that you really didn't have it that evening. But the 10,000 people in the audience are wildly screaming, "More!" It would be rather unnerving. [ . . . ] 

The Grateful Dead music consists basically of two guitars (one of which is played by Jerry Garcia), a bass player who switched over from classical violin, two drummers, and a fellow named Pig-Pen who also plays organ and harmonica and sings. A lot of their music takes off from basic blues patterns, but where it goes is impossible to say. 

The Dead were heavily involved in the depths of the San Francisco love-rock-drug scene. They played at the great and now historical dances at the Family Dog and the Avalon Ballroom. Although their roots are somewhat precarious, they now make mellow, mellow music. They'll start off with a basically acoustical set, work into country-western material, and finally build into some very loud yet amazingly soothing rock music. 

Perhaps two warnings might be a fitting way to close. The Dead concert is part of Georgetown's homecoming weekend. To those who go expecting a homecoming dance, it just ain't gonna be that way. And to those who expect the usual 90-minute concert, please be informed that I have never seen the Dead play for less than five hours.

 

(by Tom Zito, from the Washington Post, 18 October 1970) 

 

*

GRATEFUL DEAD'S WASHINGTON DEBUT

More than 7,000 people crowded into McDonough Gymnasium at Georgetown University last night as the Grateful Dead, a rock band from San Francisco, made their Washington debut.
The crowd was the largest ever assembled in the gymnasium for any event.
The audience trickled slowly through the two single-door entrances and by 8:15 p.m., 15 minutes before the concert was scheduled to begin, almost 3,000 persons were still queued up at the gate.
As the concert began, a few ticket holders complained that they had been refused entry. But within 20 minutes all entrances to the gym were thrown open and people were admitted whether or not they had tickets.
The evening's performance was part of Georgetown's homecoming weekend, but the scene around the campus was quite different from that of previous homecomings.
Long-haired, blue-jeaned, maxi-dressed rock fans trecked across the campus and less than 30 per cent of the audience consisted of Georgetown students.
Because of the heat level generated within the gym by the immense crowd, people doffed shirts and wandered in and out. Speakers were set up outside the building and about 2,000 listeners took advantage of them.
The concert began at 8:45 p.m. with the New Riders of the Purple Sage, an offshoot group of The Dead. Perhaps because of crowded conditions in the gym and also because of amplification difficulties, the crowd remained largely lethargic and the band never quite got together.
It was only with their last number, a countrified version of the Rolling Stones' "Honky Tonk Woman," that the crowd rose to its feet.
After a delay of about one hour the Grateful Dead finally emerged from the wings of the stage. As Jerry Garcia's guitar wailed out the opening notes of "Casey Jones," the entire gymnasium began to sway in rhythm to the music.

(by Tom Zito, from the Washington Post, 24 October 1970)

* * *

'GRATEFUL DEAD' GIVES A MARVELOUS CONCERT

The long-awaited Grateful Dead concert took place Friday night at Georgetown University. It took years to get the Dead to Washington, but it was well worth it.
The promoters promised a long concert, and that it was. However, considering the fact that after the first set the group supposedly went back to their hotel for a spell, the time wasn't all that music-filled.
There are a few more things to quibble about, but before that it should be said that the group was marvelous - from their set of country songs to their superb electric songs (not so much the songs as what the band does with undiscovered melodic paths once they're into a tune).
I'd only heard their remarkable, jazzlike improvisation really get off on their recent in-person album, "Live Dead," although I'd heard about it for a long time. It also reminded by of something Chuck Berry once told an audience here that was wowed by his guitar playing: "It's only mathematics, children."
Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir for example: Weir's guitar style is much more linear in conception, and when he trades off a solo to Garcia, something different happens. Garcia looks over a musical phrase, appraises it for variations involving the basic ingredients of a phrase, rather than using the prase as a road-like base to run on.
One of Garcia's favorite approaches to this is to simply accent different parts of a phrase; permutations, if you will. The results are always intriguing, and often approach the magic quality of what music can tell the soul.
The Grateful Dead group has never been "successful" in a commercial way. As their manager, Rock Scully, once said, "We won't do what the system says, make single hits, take big gigs, do the success number." That was last year, and the Dead was $50,000 in debt. A good band, a legendary one, in debt.
But in the past year, the public finally caught up with the music, and the Dead finally had albums that hit the LP charts. Especially their recent "Workingman's Dead," which demonstrated they could also play in a traditional way - tight vocal harmonies and precise country-western instrumental backgrounds. They even have songs that East coast people can recognize within the first few bars. "Uncle John's Band" made it to AM radio.
Now, for the first time since the mid-sixties, the Grateful Dead have become popular outside their own turf on the West Coast.
About the small gripes I mentioned earlier. Well, the big one was the temperature inside the auditorium. With nearly five thousand persons crammed in the place (there was no, repeat, no room anywhere) the temperature went up to around 100 degrees. It was so hot there was a cloud in the gym. Really. But it was worth perspiring a bit, believe me.

(by William Holland, from the Sunday Star, Washington DC, 25 October 1970)

Thanks to Ron Fritts.

https://archive.org/details/gd70-10-23.aud.wolfson.15080.sbefail.shnf 

See also:
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2014/08/october-23-1970-mcdonough-gym.html
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2019/02/october-23-1970-mcdonough-gym.html
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2019/08/october-23-1970-mcdonough-gym.html

June 12-13, 1970: Civic Auditorium, Honolulu, HI

HEADLINES  [excerpt]

Stevie "Guitar" Miller - what a flash you are. Not only do you blow us out at the Crater Celebration but at the Civic too. With his new group; addition of Jimmy Miller, Steve's younger brother on rhythm guitar. Steve told me, "Jimmy plays better than I do." Well, I won't go as far to agree with him, but it sure added the much needed full sound the Miller band had been lacking since the Boz Scaggs left the group many moons ago. I've always loved the Miller Band no matter what they did, but with the addition of Jimmy, live performances can now sound more like the albums.
As far as Steve's very short hair-cut: "I got tired of long hair, it gets to be a hassle, so I cut it every few years." Then a little later Steve says, "Actually, I tried to give myself a trim and blew it." With or without the hair, Steve Miller is one of the finest performers in rock today. When his latest album comes out this July, run down and buy it because this is the year for the Steve Miller Band.
Also on that Civic bill, Quicksilver Messenger Service putting across one of the tightest sets we've heard. Quicksilver has made Hawaii its home for the last month and a half, making music for their new album.  They have been living and working in a country house six miles into the cane fields of Haleiwa. Not only did they record one album but have created enough material for two and a half albums...now that's creativity! One comment that's been made before but should again be brought out is Dino Valente. He sticks out on stage like a sore thumb. It seems to me if he continues to dominate the stage, the group should change their name to "Dino Valente with Quicksilver." Why don't David Freiberg and Gary Duncan sing more? Dino has a nice voice but Gary's at least, if not David's, is just as good. Why not, for the sake of the group, be part of Quicksilver rather than being Dino (which by the way isn't his real name). I have always liked Q.M.S., but seeing Dino trying to take over the already great group turns me, as well as most of the Q.M.S. fans, off.
We hear Nickey Hopkins has left the group, we can only hope this is temporary because when Nickey plays things like "Edward (Mad Shirt Grinder)" with Q.M.S., it's one of the best highs we've ever felt in music. Nickey received a standing ovation for that piece of art...he modestly accepted the cheers... Now that's a person Dino Valente could learn from.
I missed the Grateful Dead...unfortunately...but judging from their new album "Workingman's Dead," which is the Dead's best recording effort to date, I bet the set was a gas.
Side note: Noah's Arc Lighting did the finest light show we've seen in the Islands, keep it up!

(by Ken Rosene, from the Honolulu Advertiser, 22 June 1970)

*

'HORSE' HAS ITS MERITS  [excerpt]

The opportunity to see top-rate talent here in Honolulu is fast approaching the level of San Francisco and New York. In the past and in the upcoming two weeks, about two or three dozen of the finest talent in the country have played or will play here, and that may explain in part a growing (?) insouciance. We're getting ho-hum blase and so Quicksilver and Steve Miller and the Dead with New Riders of the Purple Sage can't even fill the Civic.
Riders are pure country and good. They have Jerry Garcia playing pedal steel guitar and he's the best part of them.
Steve Miller's set, excepting a shaky start to "My Dark Hour," was great and the band, now with brother Jerry Miller, sounds bigger and better than ever. If anything, the set was too short. 

(by Steve Moore, from the Honolulu Advertiser, 22 June 1970)

Thanks to Jesse Jarnow.

https://archive.org/details/gd70-06-13.sbd.hanno.9079.sbefail.shnf
& Quicksilver's set has been released as "Hawaii 1970": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpLiMY8fALg