Beanies Babies and their cool addictive prowess

It would be hard to imagine many that have not encountered or owned a ty beanie baby…that beanie baby craze put the thought in your head that there was a seriously addictive form of crack quite nefariously hidden with those pellets inside those cute little animals and unpretentiously releases itself as you squeeze the polyester forms and then you are hooked.
Name your favorite animal, when first released there were nine soft little creatures…a bear, a frog,
a lobster, a killer whale, a platypus, a pig, a dolphin, a moose and a dog.
 
We were brought up on stuffed toys, which were generally pretty solid and thought used up when they became soft. These new styled animals we actually under stuffed, coining the nickname “beanies”.
The result is truly toy history and a milestone~!!!~
Now with the stuffed animals now under stuffed, they have become floppy and therefore vulnerable, make a most comforting sound shifting pellets somehow convey that feeling. And a new cool twist, allowing them to be posed to a degree, posed as it were and all too hug-able~!~
The human behind the beanie babies H. Ty Warner, had been a salesman for the Well established Dankin company, a plush toy manufacturer for 18 years..

Ty’s first critters were Himalayan cats named Smokey and Peaches (there’s some serious collectibles) .
Beanie Babies started in 1993, with under stuffed and named animals to add the name collectibles .
Warner started retail price as “allowance money”
As limited supplies and editions came around, a secondary market began on the internet and lives on today.
And of course, the craze had camped out collectors, at the ready with their relentless shopping baskets or carts.
 

There was a McDonalds Happy Meal campaign Teenie Beanie Babies” , and were offered for 4 years every spring.
Ironically the creator of the cool critters was not one for interviews and kept people happy and his beanies at the forefront.

You need to do some serious research on the Beanies character, colors, what was limited in production, make sure not knock-off and on and on…
Truly a fad that still exists today and a part of toy history…betcha you take a peek at your beanies
smiles

Street livin"

Street Livin'


Man it was cold, you never think of Los Angeles being so cold…most concepts are beaches and Disneyland...hands were numb with nerves chirping now and then. Now the line seemed endless and lines seemed to be part of any process you went through...some looked back with gray tombstones in their eyes others carried on lively conversations many times with no one to be seen...even with the cold and your nose numb from the cold there were wafts of funk from unwashed clothes and bodies and belongings carried by whatever means...you never truly acclimate, you tolerate and hope to ignore, such is street livin'..
There was a temperature threshold where the city opened up old unused city buildings (maybe federal too) and set up sleeping shelters no doubt in response to the homeless who were frozen to death in New York and was splashed across the papers rather than just accepted as an "oh well, there were homeless".
As we stood in line, this being far from a social club, maybe there was one or two people I saw that gave the slightest acknowledgement, a nod, a slight look or recognition, once in a while a short conversation and you may let them join you in line knowing full well you'd have a riot on your hands for giving "cuts," if fate were on your side no one may even notice. After what seemed an eternity, and the thought of gangrene setting in, the line began to move…never really got used to lines...not enough herd instinct instilled within. The desperation wheter overt or just under the surface was simmering and sometimes palatable, hopelessness is an abyss that forever looms about hoping to swallow you.The line began to move...AND THE SLOW TRUDGE BEGAN!
Sometimes it moved so fast as to almost negate the long wait in line or at an uneven pace, usually to make sure there were enough sleeping spots or some incident occurred which went with the territory to stop the trudge in its tracks..
It was an older building, always was, with the lack of any trappings of personality as most city buildings tended to be, but ones concern was to get shelter from the biting cold, not the decor or type of design or it it was ready for the Smithsonian museum.
On the uncommon occasion, you may get an orange, cookies, crackers, or a sandwich of dubious makings, the greetings of a county jail lunch. But more the case you went to bed hungry, some may have made a mission dinner, that being no guarantee you'd be satiated and then you could miss the shelter line, at least the chances of you getting inside...you'd be given a blanket if it were an open floor with old army cots put out, moreso to keep others from absconding with the blankets, hence your nights sleeping blanket...the heat was almost never on, so even with the shelter of being inside the building that stinging yet numbing cold clung to you as if it was a part of you...a somber reminder of one helplessness at the time...your warmth was your blanket and in a sad sense your funk.
One of your first stops was the bathroom, and you could cut the funk with a knife...the sinks had people washing, using a piece of clothing to wash, called a ghetto bath and two-fold if you rinsed out some of your clothes causing chagrin to those wanting to get to the sinks and when the shoes came off it became a battle of odors between that and use of the commodes, and the wait for the commode was not a delight either...making you hesitate to light a smoke fearing an explosion, but this was basic survival. Many would not want to smoke for the hazard of having to share with a bathroom of smokers, some became protective or even aggressive. When you don't really have anything you protect the little you do have as your last shred of dignity. You could wait for the commodes later if you were lucky, but if you needed to relieve yourself you had little choice. And coming back later, the bathroom seemed like a vortex of water, dirt, funk, trash and whatever was strewn about, things than can make some snap.
What little belongings you had maybe in your pockets, or a bag, some did have shopping carts but usually would not avail themselves of these shelters as you couldn't bring them in and you already had, at the least your bedding already at hand and other belongings, anything from cans (to get recycling money) for clothes and things unknown. Seemed most that had carts stayed down where there were no usual retail businesses with the public coming and going moreso companies warehouses, so sleeping on the street wasn't noticed and you were out of public view to the joy of the city fathers..
However it might be done, once you were in your cot and as you slowly thawed out to the point where you could start to doze off, it seemed that by yelling or being prodded you were woken up early about 6 a.m. with an empty stomach and you were, if lucky given a shot at the bathroom, but more times than not you were escorted out the door...some would try to make it to some mission to eat...where the ones who got to get beds the night before usually got to eat or at least in line first...so you could battle the lines or just with a sad habit, go hungry. Mission sleep varied sometimes you would eat (many times after a sermon on one's wicked ways, or the more humanistic approach less fire and brimstone) and then get some of the limited bedding, simple bunk beds seemed to be the rule rather than the exception.
One mission had the quaintly called "electric chairs" which were unpadded wooden theater chairs that you could sit in all night, at least a bathroom was available, but you asked permission before you trotted off to one, again funk so strong as to assault even the most hardened olfactory senses. Needless to say the chair had places to sit which earned their nickname that gave you an odd understanding how a seat could be a lone device of torture.
When morning came about you walked...wandering around the downtown area which meant crossing many streets and a lot of waiting for lights to change, few places to sit and the chance to be asked to move along. Around city hall there was lawn and many stone walls and edging you could sit upon, long enough to rest and then move on before asked. On weekends nice people would come down with a car and hand out bagged lunches of a sandwich, orange maybe a cookie and were usually pleasant and not trying to convert you to anything. That could be the highlight of a Sunday afternoon.
There were times when you just couldn't find an indoor place to crash, at that time missions allowed people to sleep in front on the street try as you may. At that time missions allowed you to sleep in front and down the street. The only foot traffic was the homeless and therefore no complaints. Best you could do to make a quick makeshift be was to get some cardboard, break down a box and lay on it to stop the cold and hardness of the streets concrete. Then one night it happened there was a friend (as best defined in the streets) who had the piece of cardboard beside us, sort of a buddy system in case someone just went off out of nowhere. Getting comfortable was another version of the electric chairs. .exhausted, hungry and wired tired there was no comfortable position on a sheet of cardboard on a public concrete street and the cold still crept into your bones, one then understood why people used newspaper as a form of warmth. We heard something land next to us (this was before homeless people became some sort of sordid object to play pranks upon or violence. It was dark but it was cartons of cigarettes, not a lot sleeping on the sidewalk so as the cartons landed we grabbed as many as we could...about 4 apiece. Cigarettes were a currency, and we all smoked so you could get a little change, but hearts not hardened gave most away. When you got up and let the blood in your legs and limbs again circulate you would head off to walk again...
There was both crack and back tar heroin around, needless to say, poor areas had their other form of bondage besides poverty...that's another story...and some went to day job places as a means for some pocket change, if they could function, most was warehouse work so they didn't care how you looked and the day job company would drive you there, but you made little, the day job place made more than you and the warehouse owner or whoever got you for a pittance and avoided any benefits or taxes and if you wanted to cash their check there was always a fee at the local check cashing places. It was a catch 22, you didn't have a phone number to be reached at if you did apply for a job and you were never in what would be call job interview clothes or readiness and had no address to even put on the application. There were a few missions that helped but that was limited even then and was using an umbrella to stop an avalanche. So the abyss of despair was hoping you just jump in.


Usually it was an endless cycle day in day out, one day walking around the little retail stores that had wholesale too as a lot of warehouses, a lot of products from China, cheap toys and the knick knacks you could live without and tons of it, seemed that was a base for all small China goods that ended up repackaged as a major brand label or as a bargain but this was where you got it and didn't have to wait for it to come by container on a ship some might call them cheap junk stores, but in actuality we today see a lot of their items on our shelves, just repackaged.
One day down from Central downtown L.A. and walking where there were warehouses and a few SRO hotels which were single-room occupancy hotels, true skid row hotels, the rooms looked like a noir novel...sometimes you'd get vouchers for the rooms which were with those threadbare blankets that had the little fringe on the ends on bed that squeaked and groaned usually metal with spots of rust and sometimes stuff scratched into the metal. Or old wood frames carved to death by past occupants. On rare occasions there were still Murphy beds, they only that pulled down from a closet and squeaked and rattled as you pulled them out and always slammed to the floor as the springs on the door had well seen better days. You see something out of the corner of your eye...if you were lucky just roaches...mice perhaps or both. Towels that were rags at best and sheets stained beyond imagination but always had that bleach smell if you were lucky enough to get clean ones otherwise that musty funk that always over rides anything...a desk and maybe dresser drawers that even a thrift store would reject and usually carves with various names and symbols...peeling paint or wallpaper and usually some type of water stain and even crumbling damage and a small gaping hole in the wall. A bulb in the ceiling…a bare bulb. Now this is at best, there is even worse that what I have written, usually a lobby with true makings of another era where it once might have been grand, as downtown L. A. was the place back in the late 30 and 40's now a shamble of itself and skid row denizens lounged about, a Fellini-surreal touch as you looked around.
Some people there were just released from prison and given vouchers for so long, then off into the street, it was a cycle that seemed to be accepted and part of the system. Hope was a commodity that was crushed by despair the ruling commodity.
Life indeed is stranger than fiction. In hindsight whoever owned those hotels and there were many, at that time made a killing, no upkeep or improvements and the transients that stayed were hesitant to complain only within the the little group of themselves, if at all. You were just a head count to make some big easy money, live or die there were more where you came from.
I digress, as we were walking some warehouse workers and a few customers you'd see, and many other homeless aimlessly walking to make sure that you wouldn't get rousted by the cops. They cruised around and would be ready to pull up and stop you, so you walked as not to be loitering. People called "5 oh" sometimes someone would whisper or acclaim that as a warning cops were around. So down the streets we walked then all of a sudden there was the sound of massive gunfire and we could see smoke several blocks up. You didn't know whether to hit the ground but everything seemed to be moving along most in congruence to the commotion we were hearing...people still walked, business still continued and as others headed down the street we saw one street blocked off with a few cops standing there but not stopping foot traffic, just the cop car blocking access to the street. So heading up the street, gathered around one building was smoke and what looked like cop cars... some looked to be smoking and it looked like there were big vans and 20th Century Fox containers too and cable and wires heading up the street and a generator was running. Then there were cops in swat gear but they were drinking coffee and talking...one guy walked by and we asked him, was there a robbery or something, he smiled and said, oh no we are filming.....Predator 2...which we did watch from a distance and no one hassled us but we kept quiet and just watched...there was gunfire and a few cars were driven down the street..........and that was the highlight of the day. We just continued on as a crowd was starting to form and knew the real cops would be by to break it up soon.....
So there was an idea of living on the street in that area...from what I understand, it seemed all cites are doing this, moving the homeless from the commercial area and greater downtown to the more industrial areas to make them more invisible, again that's like a band-aid for an amputation. They are not trying to help anyone become stable just almost create a sub-class of "untouchables" in America...they have made it illegal in many cites to feed the homeless as shelters and mission can not deal with the growing homeless population...it is only through compassion and being there for our fellow man.


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when we just don't see people we lose our humanity

I BATHED THE DOGS ...OR DID I????

I bathed the dogs.....or did I?


Sugar and Ginger. These girls are toy poodles, respectively..tend to, as the days get warmer, the girls become a tad odoriferous without luxury to shower themselves..we must avail them of a nice soapy bath.
We were fortunate enough to acquired Sugar thru a friend who heard me talk of Bubbles (now deceased) and felt we'd be good people to make a home as he said he had pure toy poodles. Now we're going to pick up (Sugar) and there were two little puppies, our choice. The choice was made for us by the little poodle doggie with tail wagging (no cropping of tails, of course) she was just struggling to get to us with her little self.
At that time we had Bubbles a poodle miniature, who was about 13, so upon the homecoming and showing Bubbles Sugar, who could fit in one hand, Bubbles turned up her nose with disdain as if Sugar were a bad odor. They became buddies to a degree with Sugar as the alpha pup and Bubbles not but in terms of maternal protection Bubbles stood out.
A few years went by and the same friend brought by Sugar's mother (Ginger) and asked us to keep her for a week or so and then never came back to get her. We had another good friend and pooch. Ginger was the maternal dog and Sugar the alpha, and oddly enough neither knew that one was mom and the other the daughter.
But I digress....
So bathtime was a done deal and I went to the hallway closet and had put some mint shampoo in a pump handle container and was good to go...needless to say they both got soaped up and washed although it wasn't high on their list of favorite things...and this would be the ticket to both happy and clean dogs, and a break for our nostrils.
or so I thought...
Toweled dry and went outside for some sun and a few snacks from trauma of their bath..
a day passes and they were resting on the ottoman they had claimed as theirs years ago....(a cat goes up there with them when they seem to have a silent accord)
I am sitting nearby and lo and behold..the odoriferous dogs is still with us...now I know that I soaped and bathed them and there was no way they could ripen that fast without a time machine so the age old question; whats up???
So using what little gray matter I possess, I realized that the shampoo I had put in the container had to be years old. Secondly if the shampoo was virtually unused, we should have either donated it or dumped it...so by now the shampoo was just a colored gel with the cleaning abilities of dirt..
needless to say a bath that wasn't a bath and a perfect act in futility

konnie&scotts wedding  and my comedy of errors in lake tahoe

my daughter got married up in in lake tahoe (actually in 2011)and the wedding went perfect but there's always craziness that goes unseen and i will disclose them as time goes on, as there are some interesting dynamics here and will slowly disclose them...
my typical dad-mind-set, no one will ever be good enough for konnie...but scott has come along and without blinders on i can see that he cares about konnie and will protect her, love her and be good to her.. i realized after many years that being ego-centric is not caring for konnie's happiness, just mine-some delusion that the universe revolves around me...and that's just shitty of me...
as with all things in life, especially when there's good, there's always a catch or unplanned comedy of errors...here's is the one on the way to the wedding.....smiles ...
the morning of the wedding...some went to the hairdressers as the bride's brigade........we drank coffee and talked...figured i try on the tux...even though we had plenty of time... i had to rent a tux cause mine didn't match their color scheme...so i thought it was at one o'clock but actually had to be there at 11:30 (i was told a typical male response!) so i went to put on the tux (we are watching konnie's 3 dogs apart from our 2 & 3 cats) the clasp to tighten the waist wasn't working, so i get to the living room to get help with the clasp and everyone is in the car??? i figured we had time so i open the screen door and one dog shoots out like a laser beam, and then they tell me its time to go, so we chase it to a neighbors yard, so there i am hoping i don't lose my pants, in winter dried grass & weeds (no snow here???) hearing the neighbors dogs -a big boy and puppy sounding the woof alarm and hope they don;'t shoot me or ray as we bound around that yard..needless to say the dog would not come..we had dog greenies (a kinda crack for dogs) and it was a bribe that didn't work (obviously the dog isn't a politician)vicki tried with a greenie after it shot away from us and headed up the street & around the corner, so we left & visions of how do i explain this to konnie & not to mention to add any more stress to the wedding plans, hence there would be not talk of the dog situation for all concerned (the mental vision of what a vortex or the staring down an abyss festoon my thoughts)... so we head out, with the razor slim chance the dog will come back as we start at the bottom of the hill (kingsbury grade) and i say it's 11:15 we have alot of time, then they tell me it's at 11:30 so i wondered when my heart would explode...it's about a 20 minute drive from there to tahoe add 5 to get to them, then looking for a land mark, my sister in law says it's by a river...and i go it's lake tahoe not a river & come to find out she hadn't driven up earlier the day before with janet otherwise had i know, i would have gotten directions, so we pass it unknowingly and luckily lee (my sister) brought her phone as me & 2 others forgot theirs. after several u-turns we were there and they we waiting for me, but happy i was there and they were just grinning, as if they knew what happened..the rest was magic...and speaking of magic..the dog was waiting on the porch when we got back and i made the false promise to work with the handicapped and got to church since the dog was there... there are more dynamics...but i digress, you enjoy~!!!~
smiles

JIMI HENDRIX AT A TUESDAY NITE JAM AT THE FILLMORE AND WAS 3RD ON THE BILL-BART TOOK TICKETS

Myself and my best friend Bart ….such polar opposites….fry boots…cords….jean shirts…..sideburns…
Me….skin tight shirts…..tight velvet pants…..capizios or soft leather(ballet shoes) or English boots…
And yet the best of buddies….
Bart's parents knew Bill Graham and he got a job at the old Fillmore Ballroom taking tickets on a Tuesday night jam…so I went to the concert…figuring there would be some local bands we usually saw….now this isn't verified (yet no one was doing it) but Bart and I (those of you who remember the fillmore and avalon) were walking (before that evening) thru the dance floor and the were these black lights…which were cool and threw you off balance a tad ….(especially if a strobe was in the on too) well one day we decided to get some fluorescent chalk that was in a store we were in, coulda be in the Haight….nonetheless ….took them to the fillmore and started drawing on the floor under the black lights…now we went there several times a week and never saw anyone else doing that….after a few weeks…there were more people bringing in the fluorescent chalk and drawing…so it ain't written in stone but it truly seems we were the first to use that bright chalk…which didn't change the course of history but fun….you could get soda to drink and candy and such there….the first band came on and the second and I can not recall who that was…could have been up and coming or locals-locals n those days were many well know later in their careers…as I walked over to the “bar" Bart was at the top of the stairs taking tickets…very serious demeanor…..so I left him alone….came back to the dance floor and the next band was setting up…..suddenly the whole room shook and the 3rd band on the bill, the Jimi Hendrix Experience opened up with Purple Haze, people stood there with their mouths open…some people broke out into a dance that was from music no one heard….the term blown away is an understatement as this trio was truly a superband and went thru several of their songs…..and at the end of the set Bill Graham said they were to be top billing (I have a copy of the poster and will post it) the next week….people were still shocked….utterly in awe of the performance…..so it was the end of that Tuesday night jam and I headed out and waited for Bart outside as he was finishing up his job I assumed….a few people came by I knew and asked me who was that that was on stage last….they were stunned and wanted to know who it was….
Bart came out of the door and had a puzzled look on his face….so I asked how'd you like taking tickets?
I got fired….huh? What happened?? Well, they guy who did the artwork for next weeks poster came up and I let him in, we had seen him before and knew who he was, so to Bart's way of thinking you let the guy in…well. He wasn't on the guest list , so Graham fired him…Bart didn't try to explain….he kept thinking the artist who does the poster wouldn't pay to get in….and was on the guest list…..so for several weeks Bart and in our funny take on the absurd….kept telling each other your fired…..
we went to the concert where The Jimi Hendrix Experience played and enjoyed it and it was a part of Rock History….now the things you remember..there were these two sisters called the Colt sisters who always told us the were somehow related to the original Colt makers…which honestly no once cared….one was loud one sister was loud and seemed to forget to ever wear a bra, which is o.k. but sometimes it can be a bit much-and the other sorta tagged along with her, can't remember their first names for the life of me anyway as we left the concert that night was saw jimi and then the loud sister jump in a cab…..no judgement here…just funny that it was her….needless to say Bart and I headed out to get some coffee and maybe visit someone…

this photo is from the fillmore west in feb. 1968

big sur and the summer equinox during the mid 1960's

this is a rehash for some and in case I missed it....enjoy...a slice of the past...
my best friend and road dog Bart and our escapades...of a lost youth....
here's a story from the days of youth passed in San Francisco....when you have time...This was back in the late ’60s in San Francisco…somehow, probably a flyer Bart and I got wind of a summer equinox or solstice “festival” in Big Sur California…and we figured let’s go…Bart had got a Grand Prix “boat’ and we took off on our journey….well, best friends that we were, and being opinionated we got pissed off at each other and we ended up, splitting the car in half, with some kind of tape…your half, my half…….so we get to Santa Cruz (don’t think it was Carmel) and we were going to rough it, had Sterno cans and pans and cans of something to eat, well lo and behold here we are on a beach and being the outdoorsmen, but sans can opener…we tried everything to open the cans and the sterno, used to heat the food and to no avail…with limited funds…we had to be probably around 15 ½ cause Bart got his drivers license as early as legally possible….I think we went to the boardwalk out there, being from s.f , 15 ½ and rebels without a cause to a degree it was tourist-trap-like and didn’t really have much appeal….we rented a room , and it was near the beach…..got up and headed out to big sur..i do remember it was a fantastic drive, high cliffs, ocean and endless beaches too……Well after what seemed driving forever we arrived at night…in Big Sur….and starving to death……so we parked, drove down a road to an area near the beach, separated by a small stream, in the festival area….so needing food we wandered around the campsite as it were…we were hungry, and lo and behold there was a guy with this huge pot of rice and something…offering it to everyone. we figured we were everyone, here's a story from the days of youth passed in san francisco....when you have time...This was back in the late ’60s in san Francisco…somehow, probably a flyer Bart and I got wind of a summer equinox or solstice “festival” in Big Sur California…and we figured let’s go…Bart had got a Grand Prix “boat’ and we took off on our journey….well, best friend that we were, and being opinionated we got pissed off at each other and we ended up, splitting the car in half, with some kind of tape…your half, my half…….so we get to Santa Cruz (don’t think it was Carmel) and we were going to rough it, had Sterno cans and pans and cans of something to eat, well lo and behold here we are on a beach and being the outdoorsmen, but sans can opener…we tried everything to open the cans and the sterno, used to heat the food and to no avail…with limited funds…we had to be probably around 15 ½ cause Bart got his drivers license as early as legally possible….I think we went to the boardwalk out there, being from s.f , 15 ½ and rebels without a cause to a degree it was tourist-trap-like and didn’t really have much appeal….we rented a room, and it was near the beach…..got up and headed out to big sur..i do remember it was a fantastic drive, high cliffs, ocean, and endless beaches too……Well after what seemed driving forever we arrived at night…….and starving to death……so we parked, drove down a road to an area near the beach, separated by a small stream, in the festival area….so needing food we wandered around the campsite as it were…we were hungry, and lo and behold there was a guy with this huge pot of rice and something…offering it to everyone. we figured we were everyone, so we waited for the food to be served, now we were starving to death. SO THE GUY HANDED OUT BOWLS OF THIS STUFF TO EVERYONE….WE SAT DOWN AND WE READY TO stuff our faces…shoveling in a mouthful, we both looked at each other and spit it out…it was curried and some unknown spice and flavor and try as we may we could not eat it…we were under some illusion that if we kept trying it, it would taste better…kinda like the poster boys for insanity, you keep doing the same thing and you expect different results…needless to say, we went hungry…and had the horrible taste left in our mouths that has scarred me for life from curry…..So we get back to the Grand Prix and it is a point of contention as to whose idea, but we were going to cross the creek and park at the beach…..Well we got to the middle of the stream and the grand Prix got stuck……so will we were blaming each other for the idea to drive to the beach….the car started to fill up with water from the stream…so we had to bail out water with a cup…….so we're tired and hungry and stuck in a stream with water filling the car…..we came up with the idea to take turns bailing water out of the car…we had one watch, the guy bailing would keep it and every hour, I think it was one would try to sleep in the back seat and the other would bail…sounds like a plan…so as you bail…people walked by and would say “you guys stuck” now this is where our sense of humor and of the absurd would come out full bore…usually amongst ourselves in snide comments about the most perspective people walking by….Well we got into an argument saying whoever was bailing was moving the watch ahead and cheating…..this went on all night……….I think both of us passed out and even though we didn’t bail water it only went so high in the car and seemed to pass thru, about the level of the car door bottom….So the bailing process stopped…..Now, how do we get the car out???
Bart figured he was dead meat, as he had just gotten the car and it was already partially water-logged and stuck in a stream in big sur……so I thing his parents (smart) gave his a AAA card and I was left to keep an eye on the car and Bart ventured forward to hitch-hike to a pay phone (cell-phones were a a thing of the Jetsons) so I sat in the car, on the hood, on the trunk, probably on the roof too-(the Grand Prix was a boat) since I couldn’t leave the car…..it was peace and love but there was always some boneheads…..so i kept watch Most people were friendly, some reminded me that the car was stuck, I either said something sarcastic or bit my lip ….so the day goes on and someone had mercy and brought me some brown rice that hadn’t been seasoned to death…I think had we eaten the over-curried rice we would have had a serious case of the Aztec-two –step (runs) which would have compounded an already awkward situation….it would have been funny now, but not at the time…So the day goes on and I sun myself sitting on the car and people coming wading thru the water……it had to be close to sundown, when some guy comes up to me and tells me he’s going a wench on his jeep……so bleary-eyed I tell him great and he hooks up the Grand Prix and starts to pull it out…I look up at the road leading down here cause I see a car…no a tow truck……..it pulls up and there’s Bart-red eyes-his frizzy hair windblown and standing straight out as if he put his finger in an electrical socket-after he spent all day hitchhiking to get to a pay phone…..almost gets jumped by some "you hippie commie fag" types…..waiting forever for the tow truck and when he gets here, the car is being towed out by a jeep…….so Bart figures the tow truck guy had to use the card so he was in deep do-do...Don’t remember much of that evening…not sure if that’s good or bad. but we head back the next day and as we are driving…we see a snake wiggling across the road…so in order to save it from being run over, we put it in a plastic bag and put it on the dash…you can see what’s coming……..yes several hours into the trip…we said man that snake is comfortable….he hasn’t tried to escape or nothing…well, we had, thru sheer ignorance cooked the poor snake and he was no longer among the living, needless to say as we were going over the Oakland bridge to s.f. we were blaming one another for killing the poor snake……I imagine Bart got in some kind of trouble when he got home……..

George Harrison and hippy hill

Back in the 1960's in San Francisco Golden Gate Park was where you would wander at some point in the day if you happened to be in the Haight (Haight-Ashbury) there were stores that had you widen your horizons and your views of life no matter what your age…..unique smells festooned your senses as you passed stores that had incense of varying scents and from homemade and from exotic lands…..tie-dyed clothes were the thing and fringed leather and sandals or Frye boots and jeans…. But a lot of homemade items…god, eyes abounded….winds chimes….candles…incense holders…books of every kind…..from the intellectual to the best of new cartoons and poster art(R. Crumb, S. Mouse, R. Griffin, W. Wilson, V. Moscoso and others who went on to do many of Fillmore and Avalon ballrooms posters) psychedelic was the art of the day with vibrating colors and bright fluorescents ….the peace symbol was and today is the rallying symbol (originally made for British disarmament movement in 1958).
There were stores such as be-free that actually gave away clothes and a side story is my road dog Barts dad wrote for the S.F. Chronicle had gone into the store and wrote and called what they did freebees he coined a phase as time went on……..some would have free food….there were coffee shops with food but the major food hang out was about a block or two up from Golden Gate Park... a fish and chips eatery always had a line around dinner time and in general and for about a dollar you'd get a cone-shaped newspaper page dripping with grease but filled with the best chips and fish ever…it was a huge portion of each and would have been the daily subsidence for many…..if you headed to a few blocks to the side from the Haight you'd hit the "panhandle a strip of greenery between avenues….you'd find people hanging out ..walking. Sometime people giving out food…and from phonograph players you'd hear songs blazing and sometimes sitar music…a lot of Victorian 3 story walk-ups, many divided into rooms for rent many crash pads for those who needed. Walk around and you could see the grateful dead hanging out on the steps to their pad or Big Brother and the Holding company and perhaps Janice or the Jefferson Airplane...…a lot of musicians, artists and people from everywhere..U.S. and worldwide…truly a magnet and the start of activism which began questioning the conservative norms, political concepts and materialism….both baby boomers as young adults and younger kids created a culture war with both black and feminist movement coming from this activism….wanting a society free from discrimination…and questioning military incursions into foreign countries (Vietnam) human rights (discrimination-hunger) sexual morays, and concern for the environment ….
But I digress one day making a jaunt to Golden Gate Park there were many options….there were the swings and parallel bars and jungle gyms and as a little extra would look for spare change and there was usually enough dropped to fund an excursion to the fish n chips …..there was speedway meadows where there were free concerts…..the Japanese Tea Garden which was always fun to walk around within……but this day we (my road dog Bart) went the way of hippy hill….there would be circles of people conversing, smoking herbs, playing conga drums, tambourines, bells, just dancing away….some blowing soap bubbles from the little plastic hoops
This day there was a group gathered which wasn't that unusual and so heading onward I slowed a bit and looked over there was a guy with a heart shaped glasses and he was holding a guitar and I thought to myself he looks like somebody…he didn't sing so looked for a while and move on in our journey…..
Well lo and behold, I saw a poster that had that guy with heart shaped glasses and guitar and found out I had seen George Harrison and his wife (or girlfriend)  beside him, as he held a guitar but i don't remember any singing, coined the summer of love and that was 1967 and on a summer day of August 8th…..
There are more stories to be told….
As an aside seems Georges girlfriend at the time gave a rather elitist view of the Haight not up to her standards and miss the whole movement (George didn't) so the article was odd and seemed to be a way to put down not only the area but the movement too-and don't think her words were out of context-kinda snobby shit
 
Those were the days before there were security all over the band members (there are a few stories about bikers who did that and the ensuing stories


So many things you do and see have an impact that echoes and echoes and echoes
?4674

AVALON BALLROOM PUPPET SHOW AND ROAD TRIP TO THE WINCHESTER MYSTERY HOUSE

THIS IS FROM THE DAYS OF YORE…..OR SAN FRANCISCO IN THE LATE 1960’S….WE WERE AT THE AVALON BALLROOM ON A WEEKEND EVENING AND WE MET A GUY NAMED TONY…..BEING OUR SARCASTIC SELVES, CALLED HIM TONY BALONEY…..CAUSE HE WAS A BIT CORNY,….BUT, HE KNEW A MILLION GIRLS…WHICH WAS FOREVER A PUZZLE TO US…SO I THINK WE OFFERED HIM A RIDE HOME ONCE AND THEN WE FOUND OUT THAT HE RAN THE PUPPET SHOW UPSTAIRS AT THE AVALON BALLROOM (THE FAMILY DOG) WHICH WAS NEXT TO WHERE THE LIGHT SHOW WAS THAT SHOT PSYCHEDELIC LIGHTS UPON THE BAND AND DIG LITTLE EXTRAS DURING SET BREAKS……INGENIOUS IDEA….TWO CURVED PLATES OF GLASS THAT THEY PUT OIL, WATER AND DIFFERENT FOOD COLORS IN AND PRESSED TOGETHER AND MOVED AROUND ON OVERHEAD PROJECTORS TO GET THE DESIRED EFFECT…
THE PUPPET SHOW WAS NEXT DOOR AND TONY RAN IT…THERE WERE BLACK LITES AND A STAGE CUT OUT ON A TWO LEVEL BIG PLYWOOD BOX. COVERED IN VELVET IF I RECALL CORRECT. LITTLE SIDE DOOR. THERE WAS A BOTTOM LEVEL THAT WE DIDN’T ASK ABOUT BUT DID EVENTUALLY FIND OUT ABOUT (BOY TALK ABOUT NIAVE) THE SECRET ROOM…..
WELL LIFE CAN BE AN INTERESTING TRIP…..I HAD MOVED OUT OF HOME, ACTUALLY MY MOM DECEIDED TO MOVE AWAY AND I OPTED NOT TO DO SO….I WAS ABOUT 15 ½ AND HAVE LITTLE OR NO CLUE……AS TO ANYTHING ABOUT LIFE…
SO ME, MY ROAD DOG BART HELPED TONY RUN THE PUPPET SHOW THERE AT THE AVALON BALLROOM…BUT FOR NOW I’LL STICK TO THE ONE ESCAPADE WHEN WE TONY, A FEW GIRLS AND I AND BART TOOK A RIDE TO THE WINCHESTER MYSTERY HOUSE…
WHICH BELONGED THE WINCHESTER RIFLE AND AMMUNITION HIERESS TO THE FORTUNE AND SHE WAS A TAD TOUCHED, SHE THOUGHT THE SPIRITS WERE COMING AFTER HER FOR THE DEATH FROM THE GUN HER FAMILY MANUFACTURED (THAT WAS THE TOUR SPEECH) SO SHE BUILT STAIRWAYS THAT WENT NOWHERE OR ENDED UP WHERE YOU STARTED, A LOT OF HIDDEN DOORS AND PANELS AND ALL SORTS OF ODD STUFF…
I DIGRESS..SO TONY HAD THIS HUGE BLACK BOAT CADILLAC LIMOUSINE AND THAT WHAT WE CRUISED DOWN THERE IN….A SERIOUS BOAT….
WELL, SOMEONE HAD GIVEN TONY SOME PILLS AND BEING THE ADVENTUROUS AND DUMB WE ALL TOOK SOME…BUT AS WE GOT CLOSE TO THE WINCHESTER HOUSE…WE STARTED COMMENTING THAT PEOPLE WERE STARTING TO LOOK LIKE CRUMB CARTOON CHARACTERS……THEN MORE INTENSE THINGS SEEMS TO SWAY AND MELT…..TONY KEEP DRIVING AND I FORGOT-HE GAVE US A TOUR GUIDE THE WHOLE WAY….HE STARTED SINGING…NEEDLESS TO SAY NOT STRANGE COMPARED TO THE CONDITION WE WERE IN….BART AND I COULD CARRY ON A SKEWED CONVERSATION..THE GIRLS JUST SMILED WITH GLAZED EYES….AS TONY BELTED OUT AN ITALIAN SONG AND TRIED TO KEEP A SOMEWHAT COHERENT TOUR GUIDE SPEECH BUT TO LITTLE OR NO AVAIL WE HEARD HIM MORESO IN LITTLE CLIPS…AND COMPREHENSION WAS THAT OF WET DIRT…
SO AS WE SEEMING WENT FURTHER DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE…AND THINGS WE NEVER NOTICED HAD THIS SUDDEN IMPORTANCE OR RADIANCE…..
WELL WE MADE IT THERE AND SOMEHOW MADE IT INTO THE BUILDING, THE WINDOWS TINTED ON TONY’S MOBILE- GETTING OUT WAS LIKE WAKING ON AND IN THE SUN…a cosmic enema of sorts-INTO THE WINCHESTER HOUSE, PERCEPTION BEING WHAT IT WAS OR WASN’T LIT BRIGHTLY SO AS THE TOUR FUN GUIDE DRONED ON AT TIMES BECOMING COMPLETELY FOREIGN , AS IF IN A SPACE LANGUAGE…GOING UP THE STAIRS WE MUST HAVE LOOKED LIKE MONTY PYTHONS MARCHING UP OR DOWN THEM THEN ADD IN THAT SOME LED NOWHERE OR HAD YOU BACK WHERE YOU STARTED…YOU COULD TAKE OUR TWISTED PERCEPTION AND SQUARE IT…WE WOULD LAUGH BUT EVEN THAT SEEMED WARPED, FUN ONE MOMENT, SCARY, THEN CONFUSING, TIME BECAME IRRELEVANT AND SEEMED TO HOLD EACH MOMENT IS SLOW TIME ELAPSED STATE……
WE FINALLY LOST THE TOUR GUIDE AND THEN WE EXITED EVERYTHING BEING TOO TENSE AND SECURITY WAS INSIDE TONY’S LIMOUSINE, BOAT OR NO BOAT-TONY, MAYBE FROM SHEER ROTE DROVE LIKE A CHAMP….NOT SINGING BUT SAYING WHAT MOST OF THOUGHT…”MAN,, THIS IS INTENSE”
THE GIRLS WITH US WERE PRETTY QUIET AND SAYING SOMETHING VERY RANDOMLY….ONCE WE MADE IT TO THE BAY BRIDGE CROSSING IT WAS THIS WHOLE NEW EXPERIENCE…LOOKING AT THE PORT OF SAN FRANCISCO AS WE HAD NEVER PERCEIVED IT BEFORE…….WE MADE IT TO TONY’S PAD WHICH WAS ON VAN NESS AND HE HAD A TOP APARTMENT WITH ACCESS TO THE ROOF SO HE OR THE GIRLS MADE SOME TEA AND WE RAMBLED ON THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT……..STARTED COMING BACK TO EARTH…….AND THE INTENSITY SLOWLY ABATED…BUT WORN OUT….HUNG-OVER, NO SLEEP…INTENSE MENTAL GYMNASTICS, BUT BART AND I MADE OUR WAYS TO THE STREET AND AS ALWAYS WENT AND HAD COFFEE SOMEWHERE…PROBABLY LOOKING LIKE WE HAD BEEN DRAGGED FOR SEVERAL BLOCKS…..AND EYES A BLAZIN'……..A MOST DEEP SKEWED RED...

A TRIP TO L.A. IN THE MID 60'S FROM SAN FRANCISCO WITH MY ROAD DOG BART

Now it is always fun (in a perverse sense) to date one’s self. Now this is s.f. in the mid-60’s while living in San Francisco. Mid 1960’s or so….
Youth does make us adventurous , and putting our heads together, and conjuring up a trip to l.a.
So with a minimum of planning…..or what we considered planning off we went….
my dad lived in l.a. and we asked if we could stay over for a day, he was also a master chef so knew food wasn’t a problem…
(now this order may be out of sync but did happen) that evening, probably after a great meal from pops we headed out the hullabaloo (later to become the Aquarius theater ironically some of the icon bands lived around there and jammed), on sunset near vine…(I also found later-out they had a sunrise jam from 1 to 6 am, t other locals jammed for free then & the doors, love, Alice cooper,iron butterfly and more)
Now this was on TV, probably produced by dick Clark…there were go-go dancers, might have been in cages, with those white go-go boots-and all the trappings..
The strawberry alarm clock played their claim to fame was “incense and peppermints”….hmmmmmm…that’s old school sorta just about the start of hippies and you hear the song once in a while on rock stations…
Anyhow, we felt like we were at American bandstand…deal…
And that wasn‘t us……not out of arrogance …just dorky or even beyond for us…the music was o.k. but I don‘t remember what we heard…the crowd was l.a. not the s.f. crowd we were used to…in those days….we called people from l.a. plastic…or plastic-fantastic…..oddly enough I was actually born in l.a. in temple hospital. And then 3 or 4 years later moved to l.a.
So after concerts at the Fillmore, the Avalon ballroom (family dog), free concert in golden gate park (speedway meadows?)
This was a completely different setting, different people some cool and friendly most stand-offish not the Haight-Ashbury “EVERYONE” IS YOUR BROTHER OR SISTER…
So we exited stage left….back to pop’s in the parlance of the day “crash” at my dad’s pad…being a seasoned master chef he was out the door at about 4 that morning ……
So, lack so sleep, nor snow no hail nor gale winds nor dark of night was gonna stop us for us making our way to Hollywood and west Hollywood, the actual sunset strip area….
Got going we went thru Hollywood and headed out to the “strip“……and as to be expected, we got sidetracked and ended up on Santa Monica blvd…..(don’t think it was Melrose )
So sight-seeing and lost we were headed to the sunset strip …at least in the right direction, by no means by design….so we passed this one place and we could hear someone playing music…I can remember looking inside and saw some band….(we learned later it was the troubadour) so we listened for a while and watched them thru the door…
A while later ….back in s.f. we heard the band on the radio….is was the buffalo Springfield…..probably hear several of their songs before the album was recorded…
Just one of those cool but eerie webs of life that hold all events everything is it’s own sync…..that had us walk that way…..
We walked a bit more and looked in a bar, empty, but it had a wall of beers available (years later I went there, not a beer person, but with some friends and marveled at the variety that was there had to be well over a hundred, if not 2)..
We meandered to the more well know sunset strip and I remember there was a big statue of bull winking and I think he was holding rocky……there was a jay ward-store there…..
We saw the whiskey a go-go (later named the whiskey) ay Clark and sunset…. There was gazarris…Pandora’s box…and other clubs…this was our first intro and later in time one of my hangouts when in l.a.
More stories to come…….p.s. in the last story I told you of the pants Bart and I got well here they are …this is a photo of a band from l.a. in the 60’s with our pants…

HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE INDIE FILMS BACK IN THE HAIGHT

how i learned to love indies, foreign & mainstream film as a teenager in San Francisco...
as a kid, i guess we went to alot of movies, as t.v. was not a favorite or a mainstay in our house probably in 1960 started seeing movies, i remember the big screens and "it's a mad,mad, mad world-the big CinemaScope screen. ..when the original pink panther came out-they was a promotion where the was pink champagne, pink popcorn, candy or promo items i wish i still had oddly enough it was really early in the morning as i recall...horror, western, Hercules abounded...and cartoons...and coming attractions for days....if you could hear the film, that wad considered state of the art...so a lot of movies in s.f. about 50cents to get in ..a buck for fancy theaters....a quarter would get you stuff to eat, unless you snuck some in...my mom would bring a back of stuff...as a kid ya wanted to get something at the snack bar...it doesn't scar ya...just relish the few times you did. now fast forward about 6 years
now my best friend bart and i during high school were offered a job running a theater in the haight ashbury...how this came about i can not recall but we were shown the place and given keys to the cinemateque (sp) bart had run projectors in school and said he'd show me how to run the projector and splice film...we didn't realize we ran the whole deal from opening to selling goodies, stash the cash (credit cards weren't even a concept) clean up, close run a slide show/light show at intermission and passed out flyers. the odd thing, we never saw the people who ran it after the first day we opened...it was an "art house" film theater, not sure if bart was as esoteric, as pragmatic and saw nude women there. one of the films "el topo" alejandro judorowsky-shirley clarke-and foreign films this was about 35 years ago....but it did put the seed of interest in non-traditional films in me...then with angela i saw kwaidan and was blown away-there was another Japanese film also and that and the work at that theatre started my love for film, not only mainstream, but independent, not widely released, art house and foreign.....but the way...after being paid weekly..it stopped suddenly, can't remember but i think we deposited the till everyday at the bank.....and we had about a month go by.....and we decided that the slide projectors and a few other things, after being unable to contact anyone and still depositing the money daily- were close to a trade off as we were informed the rent wasn't paid on the theatre and the doors were closing in a few days...so there was the catalyst that made films a world as deep as books, emotional if that was to be conveyed, a look to see i wanted as mad as i thought or in the scope of things did it really matter......you get a piece of life from films as you do books, except with books the film is in your head as the director, with films there's a directors who leads you there..but let's you take it the rest of the way smiles

BANDS AND A BIT OF THE DOORS IN SAN FRANCISCO IN THE 60'S

BANDS AND A BIT OF THE DOORS IN SAN FRANCISCO IN THE 60'S
San Francisco in the 60's was a vortex of mainly cool change, people's attitudes shifted, and people began to think outside of the box. Activism came back to life and proved once again that people united as a force you can't ignore or deny.
The Doors was a band with songs and lyrics of parables and others that found its way into the record charts.
An excellent band by all means and fronted by the charismatic erotic, magnetic lead singer, Jim Morrison, whose skin-tight leather pants; and pushing the envelope on live performances were building blocks to become one of the icons in that period.
The first live footage of the Doors was at a concert that we had heard about and it was on a handbill and, the irony was, they seemed to have been passed out at Ghirardelli Square as a last minute thing. Being a hangout at times was how we heard of the concert, and sometimes a go and sometimes not, depending on other events or "I forgot".
The irony was we must not have given a good look at the handbill as we only noticed the Stone Poneys, and at the bottom were the Doors...now in defense of a cursory-look we were given a lot of handbills. Some we shoved in our pockets and some we threw away, sometimes remembered or were many times reminded or told as the news of the day.
There were many venues in that time period around 1965...the matrix was a smaller venue (300 capacity but many times much, much more) but did have some classic bands...considered the first folk club and was in the marina area and it showcased the new band "the Jefferson Airplane"...the biggest deal were Beatles at the Cow Palace...the Stones, the Byrds, Beau Brummels and Paul Revere and the Raiders. Which was why I had seen them at the Ghirardelli Square and when I decided I would have long hair, making that the one venue I never attended, the Cow Palace...not sure why, just never did. The Family Dog Collective, which were four people and the family dog name came from friends' recently deceased dog, and they lived together in a communal house on Pine Street of which, eventually opened the Avalon Ballroom with major venues besides the Fillmore auditorium…used longshoreman hall at Fisherman's Wharf. Other local bands at that time were the Charlatans, Country Joe and the Fish, the Great Society, then soon Santana, Grateful Dead, Big Brother and the Holding Company, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Beautiful Day, and many others.
At that time, San Francisco allowed dancing in hotel ballrooms, then tried to stop dancing but a positive article from Ralph Gleason in the San Francisco Chronicle and the Jefferson Airplane telling the audience to come on and get up and dance. This was the many variations of psychedelic dance form, but most coolly it made bands more than just listening to a garage band. By dancing, there was a new connection to music and singers and the band. Dancing became part of the experience at a concert. There were many forms of psychedelic dance-much free-form its own form of ballet as it was not only creative and cool but in its way a freeing of the soul..
The Warlocks became the Grateful Dead at a concert at the Fillmore (about the first) for the San Francisco mime troupe-added to the bill-Jefferson Airplane-John Handy quintet and others. This was the birth of dance concert venues in San Francisco. There were anti-Vietnam organizations beginning to form and be heard, and it was heard at times at concerts from people inside, speakers, band members even venue sponsors. Activism was now in the air, civil rights, the Vietnam War, the drudgery of straight persons world, there was an awakening and a revolution that was not going away. This is part and parcel of the whole scene and is still part of us today.
In 1966 concerts became part of our lifeblood and was an awareness that somethin' but innovative- is happening here. There were peace marches, Black Panther rallies, anti-draft and Vietnam movements-helping children centers-it all was a life of its own.
The Fillmore hosted a few joint concerts with the Family Dog, Andy Warhol... the Velvet Underground and Nice and Frank Zappa and the Mothers. The bills presented were beyond belief in those years and too, rock and roll icons were born…Blues Masters played, R&B legends performed it was a heyday in music too. Lenny Bruce and the Mothers of invention at the Fillmore. Poets of the day performed and read at the Fillmore. The Temptations, Ken Kesey (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) and his merry pranksters. Percy Sledge, Allen Ginsberg, the Yardbirds, Otis Redding, and the list goes on...but you had support for activism and the community. There were concerts for peach-for the united farm workers-student non-violent coordinating committee, SNCC-benefit for the legalization of marijuana-angry arts Vietnam mobilization-and community help concerts too.
The Avalon Ballroom opened and there was an old fire station used for concerts. An alternative newspaper, the Guardian, small but out of the mainstream. The Beatles played at Candlestick Park and the Beach Boys at the Cow Palace. Three day concerts were happening once in a while like the "three day trips festival at the Longshoremen Hall. The Acid Test at San Francisco State Commons.
There was the "Peace March" down Market Street in downtown San Francisco, and large numerous others around the day consistently.
Truly the melting pot was the Haight Ashbury, at the least, the mecca. You had the panhandle on the way to Golden Gate Park. And yes, people panhandledand some just gave you a flower and a smile, it was not a judgement call if you panhandled, in it's own way an awareness of for some, what it was like to have nothing and lose the conventional concepts that were imbued into them as they grew up.There were concerts or people playing conga drums and flutes, guitars, banjos,cymbals, or whatever the instrument…people just grooving and kicking back...or in deep conversation...some tripping, some smoking...truly an air of peace and friendliness. Probably the coolest thing was the unity, people were just people, a perfect example of how many have strayed off a positive path. The three or four story houses, mainly Victorian style, on each side of the panhandle were communal where not all people would have an area for a sleeping bag or a mat-bed. In some there were several to a room. There was a restroom and a communal kitchen, and some paid and some were crash pads as an answer to the flow of people. Mainly based on the honor system and split of some house duties. It was like a hostel of sorts. Single people and many times families with kids were the anchor of the house. The decor varied, but was stunning at times from florescent colors to soft gypsy-like with scarfs and unique materials covering the room with cool light sources from subdued light to merely candles. Incense was often the case and yes patchouli oil was about and it was never subtle. Incense was two-fold and scented the room to quell any pot smoke or smell. So commune living did work for some. Some shared a flat and were more private.
As expected, most homes were two or three story walk up each floor usually lacked a kitchen and many were set up that way. The other route was to have a hot plate with, although limited, did the job. Microwave ovens we a thing of the future so not yet an option.
You could go through the Haight and people would offer you food or drink they were eating/drinking, some just did that out of kindness.
People from all walks of life and from the world over were found visiting or coming to stay in San Francisco or the Haight itself, which opened all walks of life's eyes to the huge universe we live in and that there is a commonality to all, as opposed to a xenophobia for all.
Much critical thought and calm debates, although usually along the same thought lines, anti-draft, anti-war, anti-establishment, anti-discrimination, anti-social "norms", many marches and rallies that did work there was rebellion on all levels. The Vietnam War and all that went with it, drafts-the war machine-and even in what was considered to be the way your life was set in a square stone, incapable of any movement beyond a scope so small as to be stifling. . The square life mostly was expected of you by established "norms". There were civil rights' marches and rallies, the Black Panthers and the acceptance of racism by elders was rejected by the youth. More enlightened people, Martin Luther King, and the freedom marches and rallies, and the emergence of now not just black rallies but among many races and religions. The unacceptable violence and segregation was not going to just "be the way it is" activism was becoming a real force and there were many detractors, but people carried on and there was change.
The Avalon Ballroom and Fillmore Auditorium were the main venues people, the locals, and needless to say, me, Bart and friends went to. There was Winterland, a Fillmore venture.
The Doors began playing at both the Fillmore and Avalon Ballroom in 1967 and after years of playing, mainly clubs like London Fog and events in L.A. The Doors were also the house band at Whiskey a-Go-Go…and ironically were fired. The Doors had an invite to play in New York once.
It seemed in 1967, it was also their years to come into the limelight from Ed Sullivan to the New Haven Connecticut concert for public indecency and obscenity arrest.
That being said, going to concerts happened frequently...from free ones that went on here and there...if I was helping with the puppet show at least Friday, Saturday and Sunday(if opened)...if not, that was a day when free concerts happened too. Tuesday night jams, special fundraisers or rallies could make it a week of concerts, which was a way of life at that time.
One night at the Fillmore, as I made the preverbal rounds and saw a few friends or mainly acquaintances (other concert goers whom you may not recognize outside of the concert as this was where you put on that lace dress you found and the make-up to the 9's or that satin shirt) and now this wasn't the first time I was at a concert where the Doors ("Light My Fire" was just making the charts) were but at that time an outside concert and there were so many bands it was fantasy fair and socializing. Looking around, which those from L.A., a concept after renaissance pleasure faire many said Topanga Canyon just moved to the fair, and it was a fundraiser for Hunters Point Child Center, which was behind Potrero Hill where most of my old school friends came from. It was two bucks to get in. It seems we don't have fundraisers focused on local bands for the causes that were well needed to be addressed. We've lost that to a degree and seems more involved in making money for themselves and the line of hands out from the companies. It was a two day event. We made the first day here and few of the bands of the day were there (with my road dog, Bart) (some didn't make it to the event) the Sparrow (to eventually become Steppenwolf) Dionne Warwick, Canned Heat, the Doors, Jim Kweskin Band and others. The next day, Jefferson Airplane, the Byrds with Hugh Masekela, the Seeds, the Grassroots, Steve Miller Band, the 5th Dimension, Country Joe and the Fish. This concert was the rule of the day with no violence and the real unity was that people cleaned up as they left and just a cool concert. This was put on by a local radio station and imagine $2.00 for entry to a concert.
I digress, at the Fillmore, the Doors were coming on, and Jim Morrison was always the focal point of the Doors and "Light My Fire." The doors played often, Jim in leather or snakeskin pants and then the music.
After years of doing clubs and local events mainly in L.A, all knew at this point, unless you were completely out of it, the Doors were about to take the stage...you heard a key or two on the keyboard ...anticipation was there...a tuning on the guitar...and less than more, Bill Graham came on stage afterwards...to applaud a band and make a comment or two, then lights came on the stage and there were the Doors with Jim Morrison up front in skin-tight black leather pants. He had that magnetism some entertainers have...women would just stare and the crowd would wait in anticipation of the first song. Jim gripped the mike...one of the legends of rock and roll gave a performance you would never forget!










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THE DOOR ADUDIONING AT THE WHISKEY A GO-GO IN 1966