I was a Deadhead. I came to it reluctantly in 1985. A friend had been playing a live cassette in my 1968 VW Bug and it got stuck in my stereo, forcing me to listen to it over and over again. At the time, I was into all kinds of music and going to concerts by Iron maiden, Roger Waters, The Cure, Deep Purple, the Violent Femmes and The Firm while listening to a wide variety of other bands like the Germs, Black Flag, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bauhaus and the Cocteau Twins. I remember being so angry at Paul for getting that Grateful Dead tape stuck in my cassette player! Eventually, I had it removed and with the subtle influence it must’ve had on me (as well as Paul’s enthusiasm, among a few other friends), I attended my first Grateful Dead show at Irvine Meadows on April 14, 1985. I was twenty years old. We had general admission tickets, so we sat up on the lawn. Someone must’ve passed us a joint and while my friend had smoked since high school, I never had. I remember not feeling much of anything (people told me that that can happen on your first try). However, something must’ve affected me because the following week, I was on the road heading up to Frost Amphitheater to see the Dead for the weekend. We camped up in the hills at Portola State Park (I was also new to camping). From that weekend until my last show at the Forum on February 12, 1989, I was a gung-ho, full-fledged convert. We went to every show up and down the California coast, sometimes making a week-long camping trip out of it. My experimentation with drugs continued (acid, mushrooms, marijuana) and my appreciation of the band’s music grew as did my love of the Deadhead scene and life. Those short four years of my life were the best. What crazy things we did (picking up hitchhikers, staying at strangers’ homes, camping in the middle of nowhere, accepting drugs from people we didn’t know and more), but we were young and open to new experiences and people. I have so many great memories of those times and I still love the Grateful Dead’s music and spirit. I still have all of my ticket stubs (fifty-two in all).
I remember hearing the sad news on August 11, 1995 about Jerry’s passing and while I didn’t attend the memorial celebration in San Francisco on August 13, I did write about it in the upcoming third installment of my Red, White & Blues series:
The news of Jerry Garcia’s death hits Sandy very hard. She and Pete, along with Jimmy, had spent many fun-filled days and nights following the Grateful Dead around the state. A scrapbook contains ticket stubs from Frost Amphitheatre in Palo Alto, Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center in Oakland, Ventura County Fairgrounds, the Oakland Coliseum, the Greek Theatre in Berkeley, the Long Beach Arena, Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre, even an isolated show at Boreal Ridge as well as beautiful mail order tickets for Chinese New Year and New Year’s Eve shows. Sandy has such fond memories of camping or staying with Deadhead friends that they had made over the years; late nights eating at Denny’s while stoned on acid or mushrooms; buying t-shirts, stickers, handmade jewelry, food and clothing in the venue parking lots and the pure joy that the music brought to her.
“I heard,” were Jimmy’s first words when his mother called him. “I’m fucking bummed, Mom.”
Jimmy told her about all the people who were spontaneously converging in front of the Victorian at 710 Ashbury as well as at the iconic street corner of Haight-Ashbury. As the days progressed, more and more people crowded the area as well as Golden Gate Park where fans and mourners were camping, getting stoned and dancing to bootleg recordings of Dead shows. The Internet began to fill up with remembrances, eulogies and impromptu memorial sites across the country.
On Saturday afternoon, an official memorial event is announced at a short press conference. It will be held the following day at Polo Field in Golden Gate Park. Jimmy calls his mother and she, along with Wes, Julie and Sarah, drive up to the city to pay their respects along with the thousands of others who were coming in from all over the country.
On Sunday morning, Jimmy, Theo, their baby, Lilith, and Jimmy’s ex, Stacy, with their daughter, Scarlet, join Sandy and the others in the park. It is a sunny and beautiful day. A drum circle consisting of surviving Dead members and others pounds out tribal beats while the faithful shake their bones nearby. Guest speakers remember Garcia as fans leave flowers at an altar displaying a massive portrait of the man himself.
“I’m overwhelmed,” Sandy admits quietly. “A whole fucking chapter of my life has ended.”
Wes takes her hand in his. “It’s tragic. He’ll be missed,” he says.
Sarah and Julie are less dramatic with their grief but are no less affected. Wandering the park again and seeing all the young people in their tie-dyed t-shirts and hippie garb brings them all back to that time and place so long ago that they were lucky enough to be part of. Seeing Jimmy with his two young daughters reminds Sandy of herself and Pete when they were both younger than Jimmy is today.
“Your dad and I used to come down here all the time,” she tells her son. “God, what a time to be young!”
Jimmy wraps an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “I love you, Mom. I wish I knew you and Dad back then-we would’ve been pretty good friends, I think.”
“We sure would have!”
As the afternoon wears on, a high-quality sound system blasts out vintage Grateful Dead shows with crystal clarity. Mourners play hacky sack, dance, buy t-shirts and other items from ad hoc vendors. Around 5:00 p.m., the group of friends and family heads back to Jimmy and Theo’s apartment to reminisce, eat dinner and eventually sleep.
lvsage 