It may not be noble but had a guilty pleasure

It may not be noble but had a guilty pleasure

Back in yesteryear, I had a job at an audiovisual supply store who had brought up an entire line of well used audio-video machines that were in almost all schools and companies. A lot of television parts for major brands too.

Well customers could call in their orders, many were little shops and there was a big warehouse in the back where we could pick the orders when they came in to pick it up.

There were about 3 of us-at least that I can recall. We’d take orders, most were shipped within the US especially because of the sole supplier of some lines of items, so add in the shipping crew of about 2.

So as with anything, you became somewhat familiar with certain items one would use to fix certain visual or audio sets or machines. I did learn that Television repair-there were basic things that went out (back in the 70’s) so it was a set of resistors and a few other things that were common with most televisions of that era. What I did find out (as today it has accelerated twenty fold in many things  we must have) was the television repair shops made some serious money back then-some smaller shops were more reasonably priced, but the chains-big box stores, by virtue of volume alone made a killing since the big box stores volume and paid a pittance compared to smaller shops.

The owner boss was an odd duck-very wealthy-lived in an upscale area, Hancock Park and you’d see him count and stack hundred dollar bills in a pile, his wife was a real estate agent for the Hancock Part area, so there was a strong stream of income-We always wonder why so much cash, but if you are buying the property and have cash in hand-you get a better handle on controlling the price. Probably correct.

The odd part is he’d walk around picking up paper clips, rubber bands as if the store's success depends upon his picking up the paper clips. If you asked for a raise after being there for at least a year, you’d think you asked him to murder his children. And did his best to make you feel guilty for asking.

In phones sales(not cold calls)but rather customers who needed your product-so some were constant buyers. As time goes on you get to know them-most we cool, but there was this one young lady who just was arrogant and acted like everyone else was a numbskull-just irritating no matter how you tried to be nice, you’d be hit by some odd degrading comments and as a rule of thumb back then the customers was always right or rather the company wanted her money.

A typical day you could get at least 50-100 calls and you had reference books to see what parts we had that was either needed or compatible.

As always with customers, there are a few who tend to be arrogant-pushy and demanding-which is always uncalled for in any situation. Well sometimes fate just brings-synchronicity and when one truly doesn’t want to be noble in a said situation then a scenario like this is possible.

So during an L.A. smoggy hot summer day and I looked up and there was a young lady at the counter-now this was the person who placed orders to be mailed, but in this case it was a rush order for a lot of televisions and this rude-arrogant nasty customer had to come in to pick up the order. Now it was also a case of “I’m so cute “ and you are lucky to talk to me so I would think she would garner few friends unless they were dingleberries or trying to manipulate her.

So as she gets to the counter, the guy that usually works it is about to get up, I tell, relax-I got this one-take a break.

So, it could be a guy but was a female in this instance, Their ego was as monstrous as their arrogance. I came to the counter and told her I was ready to pull the items right now. The subservient posture just was eaten up by her. I mentioned how hot it was and she made some snide remark I ignored and asked her if she would like a cup of cold water from the water cooler, while she waited? And so ate up the attention, so I told her I'll go get the water and then get her order pulled and checked. I went back in the inventory warehouse and found the water cooler and got a paper cup out, they were bigger than the tiny dixie cups, i'd imagine because they got a deal. Poured the water and being next to the restrooms, i shot into the men's room.

 Found a stall, no one was in the men's room. Closed the stall door dropped my pants and dipped my testicles into the water, it was cold for about 30 seconds, pick out a pubic hair, pulled up my pants and headed out the men's room back to the counter. I got up to the counter and handed her the water.

She took the water, without a thank you and took a gulp then another and then finished it. I told her I hoped it helped in the heart. She actually said it was refreshing. I told I'd go check on her order (i had given it to a guy in shipping and he pulled it for me. Left for the warehouse and got her order. I went back to the counter and showed her the items and she then gave me a purchase order number. As I handed her her parts in a bag, I asked her if she'd like some water for the drive. Surprisingly no quips, just said yes. So back to the water cooler, got the water my stop in the men's room and back up to the counter. I handed her the cup of water and she took a sip, not a thank you and left with the parts and my cool water.
Now by any means, it was not noble, but in our youth and impulsiveness and our slices of crazy, we do things that while not high on the class chart, just right to ease out a long period of being abused and treated like shit and oh wait there's a phone call for an order.....

JACKO AND THE QUEST FOR A SPEEDBALL

JACKO AND THE QUEST FOR A SPEEDBALL

Some dayz you wake up and wonder if you didn't truly escape hell. by the same token did I just wake up in the one I created. ah man... I got to get out and get together a speedball...and not that redneck cocaine-bathtub speed, but the real deal from South America unadulterated and pure rocks and Mexican brown or some China White. Now I knew where to get an 8 ball, 1/8 ounce of high-grade coke because the dude was into making base rocks. And loved to tell ya the who process before he'd get your goods,  step by step. Swear the guy shoulda been a teacher. He knew his shit, had a huge good rep...but only wanted to do a limited amount.
Kinda felt like "Ratso" Rizzo, from Midnight Cowboy, minus the limp. So had to hustle up someone to by 1/8 an ounce, I had a little scratch but not enough for the 8-ball (1/8 ounce) and I was trying to think who'd go in with me, so that's 7 grams and I could cover close to three grams and the other bit over 4 grams. now there was a ballon I'd been saving, (usually, a couple of hits depending upon your jones, but see where some strung-out enough to do several bags at a time, a sure death wish for a novice.
But as in life's pulsating tapestry, things kinda went into place... I had tried to get in touch with some people but it's like it was a day for all to take a field trip, no one home, I tried one couple I knew as the last resort and it was off the sunset strip, which means in this case, down the hill aways and I was on foot, it was one of those  L.A. days where the smog was this overhead shroud-like covering and the air at times seemed thick and had that foreign odd, you know it ain't good for you an odiferous tang that kept reminding you by wafting into your lungs and even with a dry heat, it had the filmy sweat that was not helping whether you took a shower or not. So I made it to the apartment, there were little houses, but a lot of apartments took over as they were there for the people who were acting and trying to break into a series, film or the production aspects, the behind the scenes people. And musicians, roadies, groupies and music industry behind the scenes people had become a large part of the area too. It was in a classic and well kept Art Deco building which at times reminded of the old coll theatres on Hollywood Blvd. Like being thrown into a time-warp. I got into the bell there were several rolls even that looking original and a sculpted metal relief with names and doorbells there (before cell phones or video cameras or talking through any speaker.) So there I was, just sucking in L.A.smogs, with that slimy sweat some money but not enough and a case of the I need a speedball blues.
Frustrated and seemingly out of options, I suddenly hear "Jacko, Jacko!!!". And look towards the street and there was Speedy Shades, a nomenclature because he wore the sunglasses so dark we never figured how he saw out of them and speedy because he drove like he was saving someone's life and taking them to the hospital.
So he jets to the curb and says hey I wanna get an 8-ball



 but I'm short and I got an old connection who has Columbian and not stepped on. I thought to myself, is this considered a miracle?
So, I jumped in the car, air conditioning was rolling the window down.
So shades tears away from the curb and had some more tidbits that made the day all that much brighter. It seems the connection, had his ounceS of heroin (was called tragic-magic by some) come in cheesecloth

and told shades he could have the cheesecloth and there was dope saturated into it.
So at shades usual breakneck speed, where it seemed, we were oblivious to the speed laws, or rather focused on a speedball.
The thing about connections apart from the obvious they don't want to meet people, it was also a lifesaver being the only one who could go to the connection and you'd get a taste for your efforts and sometimes a bit of cash.
So, even with the windows rolled down, the metal of the cars just radiated enough heat to make the waiting a preview of the 6th circle of hell. Now you get a tad paranoid when you are sitting in a car waiting to cope. So with one eye peeled for cops and the other eye peeled for the door to the apartment entrance open, it took a little of the tedium away. But still, time always felt like molasses-slow and dragging.
That filmy type of sweat seems to start to percolate as I sat doing my best not to look as if I were squirming although a true act of futility. As my mind wandered, in the thick fog of impatience, I thought back to the late '60s in San Francisco, when the attack on the love generation was set up by the Administration itself and CIA was to flood the Haight and the whole Bay area with China White from the Burma and Laos areas, Air America went and set up a charter airline and they flew the pure raw opium to be processed into heroin  Marseille France was another Mecca of China White heroin where Corsican Gangsters smuggled and processed into China White heroin

 and was made famous from the film "The French Connection" But it also flooded the San Francisco area and is both a cause of serious overdoes and a staggeringly higher rate of addicts which did, as one would expect a negative effect upon the area and the generation. As an aside, the real estate of the Haight Ashbury area went down and somehow the mayor Alioto and his wife brought much of the area for a pittance.
Snapped out of my daze by the door opening and Shades had a grin from ear to ear.
We were heading back, but Shades wanted to stop (kinda make the anticipation of the brown and coke greater) and get some new outfits (needles-and too a spoon matches lighter and cotton))

 so we headed to somewhere in the sunset hills. We knocked at the door several times, about ready to leave and the door swings open and some guy is in a panic say help help... we looked at each other and followed the guy, to the living room and the was a girl on the floor looking passed out, he says she od'ed and didn't know what to do, with our limited knowledge we took her to the bathroom tub, put on cold water and asked for salt, we quicked cooked (out in a spoon with water and heated with a lighter) it up and I gripped her arm to raise a vein and Shades shot some salt into her....it took a few moments but she began to rouse and open her eyes
The guy Shades knew thanked us profusely and we said cool you got some new points(needles)

..he went back to a room and gave us a few...
As we drove off, I told shades, thanks for the near heart attack, he said he didn't fare any better, but we were surprised the guy didn't know to do that to save the girl...so as callus as we can be at times we were glad we did help.
Went to my place and got out outfits together  and Shades brought out the linen with the Mexican Tar heroin that had saturated it and we had the 8 ball of coke so we were gonna do a speedball so we squirted some hot water from a needle on the linen and got some dark residue in our spoon and then added just a pinch of coke.

Usually it was the coke rush then the heroin (was called tragic magic by some) nod to even the edge off the coke-well we both got the brew ready and proceeded to fix it, well turns out the heroin from the linen was so strong that we nodded first and we actually slurring out words and were hoping we would end up like that girl at that other pad. China white was so strong back in the bay area that people od'ed often, but this reside from the Mexican tax heroin was about the closest we ever came to od-ing! We nodded out and startle ourselves awake and tried to keep talking so we wouldn't go out, we were so out of it we didn't even want to try more coke to counter the monstrous nod from the heroin, being used to daily heroin we were spared the trouble of a puke that accompanied many who system wasn't used to heroin.
So we spend hours nodding off and keeping each other awake..... nod then awake...nod...then awake...
Today the drug companies are trying to run the heroin market with opioids

• Codeine (only available in generic form)
• Fentanyl (Actiq, Duragesic, Fentora, Abstral, Onsolis)
• Hydrocodone (Hysingla, Zohydro ER)
• Hydrocodone/acetaminophen (Lorcet, Lortab, Norco, Vicodin)
• Hydromorphone (Dilaudid, Exalgo)
• Meperidine (Demerol)
• Methadone (Dolophine, Methadose)
• the more dangerous of these are

Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid that is 80-100 times stronger than morphine. Pharmaceutical fentanyl was developed for pain management treatment of cancer patients, applied in a patch on the skin. Because of its powerful opioid properties, Fentanyl is also diverted for abuse. Fentanyl is added to heroin to increase its potency, or be disguised as highly potent heroin. Many users believe that they are purchasing heroin and actually don’t know that they are purchasing fentanyl – which often results in overdose deaths. Clandestinely-produced fentanyl is primarily manufactured in Mexico.

never understood how getting someone addicted to methadone was anything but supervised and big pharma's first control of heroin addits was a good thing then opiods were created and then the drug companies had the heroin market in terms of an alternative, no better just Big Pharma running another source and truly making it legal whereas making heroin is illegal-go figure......there have been alternatives to this 

SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN 

5 Years After: Portugal's Drug Decriminalization Policy Shows Positive Results

Street drug–related deaths from overdoses drop and the rate of HIV cases crashes

In the face of a growing number of deaths and cases of HIV linked to drug abuse, the Portuguese government in 2001 tried a new tack to get a handle on the problem—it decriminalized the use and possession of heroin, cocaine, marijuana, LSD and other illicit street drugs. The theory: focusing on treatment and prevention instead of jailing users would decrease the number of deaths and infections.

Five years later, the number of deaths from street drug overdoses dropped from around 400 to 290 annually, and the number of new HIV cases caused by using dirty needles to inject heroin, cocaine and other illegal substances plummeted from nearly 1,400 in 2000 to about 400 in 2006,  according to a report released recently by the Cato Institute, a Washington, D.C, libertarian think tank.

 "Now instead of being put into prison, addicts are going to treatment centers and they're learning how to control their drug usage or getting off drugs entirely," report author Glenn Greenwald, a former New York State constitutional litigator, said during a press briefing at Cato last week.

Under the Portuguese plan, penalties for people caught dealing and trafficking drugs are unchanged; dealers are still jailed and subjected to fines depending on the crime. But people caught using or possessing small amounts—defined as the amount needed for 10 days of personal use—are brought before what's known as a "Dissuasion Commission," an administrative body created by the 2001 law.

Each three-person commission includes at least one lawyer or judge and one health care or social services worker. The panel has the option of recommending treatment, a small fine, or no sanction.

Peter Reuter, a criminologist at the University of Maryland, College Park, says he's skeptical decriminalization was the sole reason drug use slid in Portugal, noting that another factor, especially among teens, was a global decline in marijuana use. By the same token, he notes that critics were wrong in their warnings that decriminalizing drugs would make Lisbon a drug mecca.

"Drug decriminalization did reach its primary goal in Portugal," of reducing the health consequences of drug use, he says, "and did not lead to Lisbon becoming a drug tourist destination."

Walter Kemp, a spokesperson for the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, says decriminalization in Portugal "appears to be working." He adds that his office is putting more emphasis on improving health outcomes, such as reducing needle-borne infections, but that it does not explicitly support decriminalization, "because it smacks of legalization."

Drug legalization removes all criminal penalties for producing, selling and using drugs; no country has tried it. In contrast, decriminalization, as practiced in Portugal, eliminates jail time for drug users but maintains criminal penalties for dealers. Spain and Italy have also decriminalized personal use of drugs and Mexico's president has proposed doing the same. .

A spokesperson for the White House's Office of National Drug Control Policy declined to comment, citing the pending Senate confirmation of the office's new director, former Seattle Police Chief Gil Kerlikowske. The U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) and the U.S. Department of State's Bureau of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs also declined to comment on the report.

Rights & Permissions

ABOUT THE AUTHOR(S)

Brian Vastag

So there's no easy answers, but to jail someone for a disease is absurd.

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

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……..

North Beach-Janis and a day or two in S.F. and Haight-Ashbury

North beach was sorta a chicer area -, actually the beat area of s.f. (probably like Soho may still be in N.Y.) a precursor to the hippie sorta the fathers from the beat era…bookstores and coffee shops many with outdoor seating, which if you know s.f. or any city NY-l.a. Atlanta,, the main city areas, space is hard to come by, but as part and parcel of s.f. cafes, as it were…..me and Bart, would head out to the north beach, parking only equally hard to find in n.y. and add hills that seem to never end and defy gravity.
So we would go into book stores, probably hit our target heart rate after sipping coffee earlier in one of the coffee cafes. So, quite possibly my interest in books was piqued somewhat from our meanderings in the book stores…….there were also the topless clubs out there with the hucksters trying to draw you in the topless clubs…..but they were sorta sequestered to each other's little area…..now you could venture up on the street and there would be a “hippie painted" Porsche by a bar, if you went inside you could drink Jack Daniels with Janis Joplin and shoot the breeze………there would be the old beat poets pontificating their verbal wares to those who would listen in some of the coffee houses…sometimes in the book shops.
A lot of artists and cool people you could run into and chat with whom were more in the public eye than one would assume... Many cool evenings……sometimes with the subtle smell of the sea….a fog would creep in and swirl about you……sometimes you felt like you were in a scene from an old black and white film…..maybe a film noir…..
I was a tea guy, but Bart and his dear parents got me on the road to the coffee beans…..and Bart's dad, Mel had a goatee which reinforced my idea that they were communists apart from the abstract art , oils and antique coffee grinders and books to read around the house…
So going to coffee houses wasn't a hard stretch….or tiresome…probably sipping coffee for hours on end may have been a slight factor….
Chinatown was in the area more or less, and we'd go there to eat once in a while……I remember Bart had us go to this one restaurant in Chinatown, and man the waiter literally threw the menus at us and kept telling us to hurry up, hurry up….even being young and mellower I started to lose my composure…this went on and Bart acted like I was delusional …when I finally got up to tell the guy to…Bart cracked up and told me this was a famous part of this restaurants ambiance here's another tidbit…when Bart and I went to Galileo high school in s.f. (I dropped out) it was probably 85 % plus-Chinese, and not to profile but generally the Chinese were more scholastic orientated that either Bart or I, although we were generally pretty good in school….but our egos were slammed…we had to study hard to get the grades we were used to having…..
Here's a tidbit that will date me…they were filming a chase scene from the film bullet, Steve McQueen (no stunt drivers) was driving that fastback Mustang and as he made a corner, I can't remember if it was him or the car he was in pursuit of, but it sideswiped several cars so, filming stopped as they tried to leave notes on cars and check with the homeowners, so McQueen sat in his car and then got old leaned on it and talked to the crew and I think a few that were watching, then when the scene started again, he peeled out several times in the Mustang during filming….
we were always loners…we knew the cliques but were not part of them…….some of the guys from Potrero hill, brats turf were as close to a clique, but not really…Bart and I were sheer opposites…..in every sense I had long straight hair…Bart had curly kinda bushy long hair and sported sideburns…..me, the so-called “pretty-boy look or no facial hair-a small minority was I (that's not ensuring you are a pretty boy)….I started looking for unique clothes…….as time went on
We both were out in the Haight Ashbury and found these pants, pretty sure they
were cords, but they had stripes going the long ways….we got different colors but this was the first stab at being unique -wide big belt loops…probably scary by most standards…but it was clothes from THE STORE …in the Haight……so nonetheless …we were unique and via the Haight…and sometimes that spirit evades me…..but I find it again quickly….
But I digress as I will thru this verbal walk…
Now in the Haight-Ashbury area, you could walk around, as many did….the Grateful Dead hanging out on the stairs of the 3 stories Victorian walk-up that was the housing of the area, virtually all of s.f. suburbs at that time…..Santana band……..Quicksilver Messenger service…..and people from every walk of life…..new bands starting...just nice people...
Now this will take you back…there was a poster from the mid-sixties that had George Harrison, I was later surprised to find out, wearing heart shaped glasses…well, he was sitting at hippie hill….at the beginning of golden gate park …
I believe, I may have been there by myself -but there was a crowd there and I do remember seeing a guy with those heart shaped glasses….that is what I understood after the fact………if I am incorrect…maybe…and thru Google, it was a reality
Well, as fate would have it Bart and I fell for the same girl…..Martha…..this is about age 14 or so give or take……smitten we were and did both talk to her….been to her house…..her younger sister talked to us more than her…different personality…..sarcastic so we parried with her at times……her younger brother was one of those kids that would show us how he had made a box so that he could phone anywhere and charge someone else…….the kid is either doing time or was in on the s&l failure….and lives with ken lay (do you truly believe he died before his court trial?) in South America…..there was an incident with him, but another time…..needless to say Martha's heart went to some dork…so Bart and I lamented somewhat….figuring she'd get smart and lose him….well hope burns eternal……(she may have become a nun) we stayed friends with the younger sister……I think she liked one of us, but our hearts were set on Martha…..alas to no avail……heartbreak hotel…..
Now, I remember this now, but we used to sift thru the sand by a swing area in golden gate park so we could get a bag of chips (as in fish n") by gathering up change, wrapped in newspaper……I don't recall ever panhandling although it was an accepted practice at the time…just wasn't in either of us….
They had a riot of sorts and I'm not sure if it was an anti-war march down the Haight to golden gate park, but there was riot geared s.f.p.d. blocking us from golden gate park at the end of Haight street……..somehow, Bart and I ended near the front of the march……and when it got to the cops, and this was Bart, “look they are throwing smoke bombs, let's throw them back“…there should have been a clue, because everyone else was scattering from the smoke bombs as we tried to get to them to toss them back….it earns out they were tear gas////luckily someone leads us away to safety and rinsed our eyes and got wet clothes for our faces…so brave…no….and talk about helpless, you are blind, eyes and nose burning and running, the more you rubbed, the worse it got…….do we may have been in a few other marches but no more leader of the pack stuff…..
I do remember……we were inside of one of the stores and the riot-geared police were going up and down the street….probably arresting anyone who didn't get off the street…….shades of 1984.…………yes it was an anti-war the protest, …..good thing it wasn't that Ohio campus where 4 students were killed (Crosby Stills Nash and young-no longer buffalo Springfield- did a song 4 dead in Ohio?)
We did make friends, and most were older and had their own rented place….Bart stayed at home but I left at about 15 ½ (that's another story) so most people we knew we older except for the guys we knew from potrero hill………..
We'd hang out at their flats and talk, listen to music and the traditional Haight Asbury antic's
The phrase “they're a head or he's a head" was early , by definition in Haight-Ashbury meant you were cool, enlightened, with it, in the groove beyond cool, the true embodiment of hip.
Well, needless to say Bart and I had no illusions that we were “heads" but since a lot of people were older than us, or married, had their own place, remember we were probably 14ish -give or take-and still at home, although out so late, it didn't truly apply most of the time.
So our strange sense of humor and that of the absurd, and in tandem usually had us agreeing with someone who felt he was the enlightened one and therefore could
Bequeath the title of “head" upon……someone he felt measure up…this almost was the exclusive kingdom of guys for some reason….rarely if ever were woman prone to pass judgment as such….or at least we didn't run into it much…kinda like guys own sewing circle to himself…..not that a woman wouldn't have the capacity, but as Abe Lincoln said “it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt….and woman understand discretion better than guys….
I digress…….so while the “head" was pontificating whatever drivel he felt earth-shattering was spewed, Bart and I would just nod in agreement and awe…albeit sarcastically and even make faces when he turned away…..usually their own arrogance would dismiss our sarcasm as a form of “worship “ of his fountain of knowledge….
And guys wonder why women think 90 plus % of men are dorks and egocentric….
So we did glean some knowledge when we could and had mental gymnastics when the topic got to some weird dimension we were not in or privy to…..
I got interrupted someone brought a Disney pirates of the Caribbean figure set in California….and wants it sent express, I printed the label but gotta get it to the post office early, can't wait for a pick-up…kool interruption…..
Truly varied characters…many from out of state some from out of country…….
there were communes of sorts here and there…..but usually, a couple of people rented the flat and usually other would crash over……maybe chip in a couple of bucks or some food…
Somehow. We ran into curried food a few times…..and being scarred for life from big sur's encounter with curry., would either say no thanks or act is if we were a cow staring at a new gate……
Now our first free concert was at mount T (Marin County) and Linda Ronstadt and the Stone Ponys
And the doors……..and the doors, and yes Jim Morrison was mesmerizing and the girls and women tended to swoon (later when I lived in l.a. tales of Jim Morrison driving around l.a. picking up hitch-hikers and giving them a ride in his mustang-and was a nice guy.
And l the Fillmore had opened……
And the family dog (Avalon Ballroom)(opened as a second concert venue….and me and Bart met a guy who had us help him with the puppet show on the second floor at the Avalon ballroom-and that is a whole new story- and I used to sell firecrackers to tourists in Chinatown during Chinese new years ……
Well….we saw a lot at of bands, here are a few, vanilla fudge-the Sparrow (Steppenwolf-there's a story there too), Santana, Quicksilver messenger service, grateful dead, led zeppelin, a beautiful day, rolling stones, Jefferson airplane (starship), the doors, john lee hooker, b.b. king, Otis Redding, blue cheer, Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, canned heat.,the who,-I found poster for Fillmore from the net and they are probably another ton of bands and some with stories, another time.(more interesting to me probably)
YOU EVER HAVE ONE OF THOSE DAYS WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING TO SOMEONE, THEN YOU CAN WATCH THEIR MEDICATION SLOWLY CEASE TO WORK…earth….
…
I'll close for now and hope you get a smile at least upon your heart….
More to come…
May you never have someone say you eat as if you are stuffing a musket~!~

RAINBOW COBBLERS-these boots are made for walking

BACK IN THE MID-1960'S IN SAN FRANCISCO, AND WITHOUT JUDGEMENT THERE WERE BASICALLY as always a call to how one would dress and the current fashion; what one was comfortable in both fit and comfort and your self-expression. There was always innovation; even how one dresses comes from an art form.
The bands were being seen more so, if not locally in concerts then on television and the Stones were just way too cool in their style of dress...as one would expect most bands set trends within small groups before it became mainstream as it was almost a right to go to concerts. It was part of the escape, part of the culture-or sub-culture if you will, that was to use a cliché, "a scene, or the scene for many", I digress.
North Beach was a cool place with several book stores and coffee houses, both having indoor or outdoor seating and little unique stores...this was where the beat era (beatnik) was in full swing back in the 50's and left its imprint here, book stores with poet readings, and much tea and coffee to sip.
Well, I knew at the time I was having difficulty finding shoes I liked. It did look as if they came off the shelves of a department store with every other Tom, Dick, and Harry wearing them (I was young and didn't want to fit in the niche of whatever the stores let people buy-as best I could).
Well the quandary had come up and I could not find any shoes that really appealed to me. There were stores where various seamstresses had their clothes that were of unique clothes and patterns, then form fitting in cut and the way they were sewn. There were imports from England as that was the trendsetter, as it were, and the designs came from Europe, but mainly England, such as Granny Takes A Trip. And were quite pricey, luckily artistes, the local seamstresses used the London designs adding their style in various materials; some of silk or satin with unique patterns like birds or art-deco-or just unique in itself. You could also had the other extreme-go from subtle to stripes of various sizes and bold colors. Pants we either bell bottoms in various degrees or flared, I like flared never really a bell bottom person; and not a fan of floods either usually like an English cut where the cuffs angled longer in the back to cover your shoes or boots perfectly. Socks, other than being white, were open season, but generally dark and not too short, especially with boots. So choices were not limitless but a small and ever-changing supply of "cool" clothes for the few stores that catered to that crowd; for me, innovative at the least there was The Boot Hook, Middle Earth, Mom's Apple Grave, North Beach Leather (for those who wanted Jim Morrisons tight leather or snakeskin pants and for (although not my taste) unique not only suede but leather and unique colors-fringed jackets and vests.
Not so with shoes, years later in L.A., I found Capezios (ballet shoes-but I put street soles if I could and rubber taps on the heels) black seamless, and some soft leather shoe that added no height and fit everything. But by late 60's in San Francisco, I had the hardest time.....going to North Beach, for me, was usually a solo experience; although my road dog, Bart and I would do coffee houses and book stores as he had introduced me to the area. My solace would be a walk through Chinatown but more so through North Beach.....always remember hearing the fog horn there and sometimes the fog accompanied it. There was a solace there, bright lights from the strip clubs and conversely the book stores and indoor and outdoor coffee houses being more subtle yet still calling you. There were always unique shops there and one's mind would wander and their body too if something caught your eye. On a stroll through North Beach, I did see shoes and boots in the store windows that were nice and basically not in the wing-tip family. In this search for shoes and becoming less and less eventful, I wandered inside.. I thought, "Rainbow Cobblers"...there were some shoes inside on display and someone asked if they could help me. Well, I had seen some boots in the window and was told me they could custom-fit the boots either pull-on or zippered in any color and design I wanted! My mind began to seriously ponder…."Which boots would I want?"
Back then, I was called "Virgo John" more often than just John. Also later in L.A., I lived in an apartment facing the outdoor pool and there were six Johns living there and each with a nick-name so you knew it was you they wanted. I asked if I could get a Virgo sign put on the top side of the boot about two inches in orange. I wanted a deep purple boot, zippered on the inner side, stacked leather heel (but not overly high) with a leather sole slightly thicker than usual. The answer was, "No problem" then my feet were each measured; in all areas and then rechecked. The total cost was a bit over $100.00, which today would make that price paltry(and unbeknownst to me, these boots lasted for years and years and never really worse for the wear). I offered a deposit for the shoes and it was about two weeks before I would pick them up, and it was time for me to come up with the rest of the money. As fate would have it, I had found a pair of shoes in the interim.
The big day came and off to Rainbow Cobblers and as I arrived, I looked at the boots and they were nice. I tried them on and they fit like a glove; the leather was sturdy by not hard. My foot fit well but not binding and a nice zipper that was hidden by the flap just as I ordered (made it look like a solid boot). As I took off the boot, I had to do a double take, the orange Virgo sign was very well set into the leather on the top of the boot just I had ordered. The only problem, they had put the Virgo signs in backward. To say the least, bummed, but they said they would make another pair with the correct placing of the Virgo sign. I think they gave me a small discount for the extra wait for the new boots.
Two weeks passed and as I approached the shop and looked in the window, there were my purple boots with the backward orange Virgo signs.
( the photo had me with the boots but hard to see)

A VISIT TO A REHEARSAL AND GUESS WHO WAS PLAYING LED ZEPPLIN

A VISIT TO A REHEARSAL AND THEN GUESS WHO WAS PLAYING......

It could happen anywhere, but this happened to be in L.A. You just have days where you feel nothing much out of the ordinary is going to happen, which to a degree, is that fine balance in life where you truly can enjoy those unexpected moments. This was in 1976 during the week ….
The day was quiet and I drove out to visit a few friends; West Hollywood was both actors, musicians, writers, many a varied artist, and a gay community that thrived. I went to visit a friend who was a roadie, and his wife, and we had coffee and caught up on things going on around the community, a tidbit of gossip here and there. (May have gone to Canters for bagels beforehand so as to have an addition to the coffee) My friend was to go on the road after working some local debuts for the band, Detective. I knew the band and a few were friends of mine. Seems my whole life I knew musicians, so times upon meeting other musicians they'd ask if I played and my response always was, "a mean stereo". But mostly we enjoyed the same bands and knew the history of bands and songs so having a conversation just fell together. During my S.F. days and how I enjoyed dressing had only been changed a bit by the stores and artisans, the seamstresses and the unique and sometimes the "I lucked out" and there had been one or two either shipped to the store or a seamstress had made a few. In that sense, I blended into the music scene and wasn't that judgmental on what one might wear. Nothing ever seemed that out of the ordinary, at least to me, but probably innovative for that time-era and some set trends or took trends and added their personal touch, which is what any artesian would do, whatever their art.
Went down La Cienega Blvd, which had clothes stores that were unique and some were good for the stage others just unique fashions and there were several clothing stores that had some seamstress employed there, one time, I guess they had gotten a few yards of some really detailed satin and made long sleeved shirts, but only had enough material for about 1 or 2 of each unique color and pattern.
With great hesitation, I could only afford one shirt and there were two that had caught my eye…finally I purchased the dark green satin shirt with little embossed birds a slight darker green as the pattern. I learned later that the older materials were not doused or treated in any way so if you soiled the shirt, the stain was removed successfully. Some of the items were not my style, but for the stage or to make a particular statement, the trademark was for some a treasure. Those days were more form-fitting, more of the English style tailoring so the sewing and material had to be pristine and of good material or you'd have big, big problems which no one would enjoy, pants or shirts bursting or ripping just had to be prevented as these were worn daily and not just some fashion show garb (at least in a sense).
As a side note, the Gap, you know the chain store, well the one in west Hollywood was different as it appeared the managers would order some unique clothes and shoes not found at the average Gap store. As you can see, artisans tended to have more products in stores and there were some of the "off the rack items", but interspersed with other unique items.
This next part is a bit "fuzzy" but a friend had called my friend, Michael, and I can't remember if I went to his place or we met at the studio. Nonetheless, we went to a studio on Santa Monica Blvd or about, it could have been the record plant or another studio, I think I had been there once to see some friends rehearse new songs. Well, I had thought there was a rehearsal for the band he was in, Detective, for which Michael had played lead guitar with Steppenwolf, (I had seen him play at the Avalon Ballroom when the band was called The Sparrow 10 years before) there was another singer, the other Michael played with at Silverhead. The bass player, Bobby, had played with Sugarloaf and Etta James, the drummer Jon also sang and was in Hokus Pokus and Tony had played with Yes. All had played in other bands and also some sessions.
They were the only band besides Bad Company to be signed by Swan Song (Led Zepplins label) and were going on tour with Kiss; and playing local events with press releases, some showcasing the band.
As we walked into the recording studio entrance, Michael knew which rehearsal room we were going to. At that time, and even today with design changes, everything was muted by runs, soundproofs sometimes going down the hallway with too heavy wood on the walls on way to the studio. Studios were closed off and unless you were inside, you wouldn't know who or what was going on in terms of rehearsing or recording. We made our way down the corridors (sort of maze to a degree) then we stopped at a rehearsal studio door where there were two large dudes that towered over us. We are both about six feet tall and lifting weights was a regular pastime. Michael gave his name and the green light came on by the door and we could enter. As we entered, I thought I know that song. On the small rehearsal stage was Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones, and Jon was on drums and they were playing Kashmir. As we went to sit on a couch, there was Robert Plant singing and he was stretched out on the rugged floor (for sound damping) his bottom leg in a cast, he had been in a car accident with his wife in London, hence the ankle cast. They would go through and stop several times if they felt it was either off a bit or wanted to incorporate a new nuance at that point. After playing several partial segments of Kashmir, they played the entire song. Since it was in a studio, a space that really wasn't large enough, the intensity of the song was astounding! You could hear the sound. It was dampened to prevent echoes with sound bouncing off the walls; the sounds were crisp and clear. The symbols drove the song to the guitar and highs and lows to the bass, and with Plant singing it was a unique experience. We both watched. Plant said, "hi" to Michael and he introduced me. The focus was on rehearsal as there was a tour coming up soon and they had the film "The Song Remains The Same" opening soon and the bands' upcoming "Presence Tour" in 1977.
They played their standard, and their anthem, 'Stairway to Heaven", which was mesmerizing as one would expect. Between Jon came over and said, "hi" and drank some water (always the vegetarian and healthy eater. The polar opposite of his brother who was their head roadie) and we asked if Jon might need a ride and he didn't, if I remember correctly, that is. I can't remember if I left by myself or if Michael left too. I'm thinking we both left at the same time…
So there was a surprise one evening during the week's lazy-hazy days in L.A.


DETECTIVE



JIMMY PAGE


REHEARSING




JOHN PAUL JONES



ROBERT PLANT

A VISIT TO A REHEARSAL AND THEN GUESS WHO WAS PLAYING......

It could happen anywhere, but this happened to be in L.A. You just have days where you feel nothing much out of the ordinary is going to happen, which to a degree, is that fine balance in life where you truly can enjoy those unexpected moments. This was in 1976 during the week ….
The day was quiet and I drove out to visit a few friends; West Hollywood was both actors, musicians, writers, many a varied artist, and a gay community that thrived. I went to visit a friend who was a roadie, and his wife, and we had coffee and caught up on things going on around the community, a tidbit of gossip here and there. (May have gone to Canters for bagels beforehand so as to have an addition to the coffee) My friend was to go on the road after working some local debuts for the band, Detective. I knew the band and a few were friends of mine. Seems my whole life I knew musicians, so times upon meeting other musicians they'd ask if I played and my response always was, "a mean stereo". But mostly we enjoyed the same bands and knew the history of bands and songs so having a conversation just fell together. During my S.F. days and how I enjoyed dressing had only been changed a bit by the stores and artisans, the seamstresses and the unique and sometimes the "I lucked out" and there had been one or two either shipped to the store or a seamstress had made a few. In that sense, I blended into the music scene and wasn't that judgmental on what one might wear. Nothing ever seemed that out of the ordinary, at least to me, but probably innovative for that time-era and some set trends or took trends and added their personal touch, which is what any artesian would do, whatever their art.
Went down La Cienega Blvd, which had clothes stores that were unique and some were good for the stage others just unique fashions and there were several clothing stores that had some seamstress employed there, one time, I guess they had gotten a few yards of some really detailed satin and made long sleeved shirts, but only had enough material for about 1 or 2 of each unique color and pattern.
With great hesitation, I could only afford one shirt and there were two that had caught my eye…finally I purchased the dark green satin shirt with little embossed birds a slight darker green as the pattern. I learned later that the older materials were not doused or treated in any way so if you soiled the shirt, the stain was removed successfully. Some of the items were not my style, but for the stage or to make a particular statement, the trademark was for some a treasure. Those days were more form-fitting, more of the English style tailoring so the sewing and material had to be pristine and of good material or you'd have big, big problems which no one would enjoy, pants or shirts bursting or ripping just had to be prevented as these were worn daily and not just some fashion show garb (at least in a sense).
As a side note, the Gap, you know the chain store, well the one in west Hollywood was different as it appeared the managers would order some unique clothes and shoes not found at the average Gap store. As you can see, artisans tended to have more products in stores and there were some of the "off the rack items", but interspersed with other unique items.
This next part is a bit "fuzzy" but a friend had called my friend, Michael, and I can't remember if I went to his place or we met at the studio. Nonetheless, we went to a studio on Santa Monica Blvd or about, it could have been the record plant or another studio, I think I had been there once to see some friends rehearse new songs. Well, I had thought there was a rehearsal for the band he was in, Detective, for which Michael had played lead guitar with Steppenwolf, (I had seen him play at the Avalon Ballroom when the band was called The Sparrow 10 years before) there was another singer, the other Michael played with at Silverhead. The bass player, Bobby, had played with Sugarloaf and Etta James, the drummer Jon also sang and was in Hokus Pokus and Tony had played with Yes. All had played in other bands and also some sessions.
They were the only band besides Bad Company to be signed by Swan Song (Led Zepplins label) and were going on tour with Kiss; and playing local events with press releases, some showcasing the band.
As we walked into the recording studio entrance, Michael knew which rehearsal room we were going to. At that time, and even today with design changes, everything was muted by runs, soundproofs sometimes going down the hallway with too heavy wood on the walls on way to the studio. Studios were closed off and unless you were inside, you wouldn't know who or what was going on in terms of rehearsing or recording. We made our way down the corridors (sort of maze to a degree) then we stopped at a rehearsal studio door where there were two large dudes that towered over us. We are both about six feet tall and lifting weights was a regular pastime. Michael gave his name and the green light came on by the door and we could enter. As we entered, I thought I know that song. On the small rehearsal stage was Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones, and Jon was on drums and they were playing Kashmir. As we went to sit on a couch, there was Robert Plant singing and he was stretched out on the rugged floor (for sound damping) his bottom leg in a cast, he had been in a car accident with his wife in London, hence the ankle cast. They would go through and stop several times if they felt it was either off a bit or wanted to incorporate a new nuance at that point. After playing several partial segments of Kashmir, they played the entire song. Since it was in a studio, a space that really wasn't large enough, the intensity of the song was astounding! You could hear the sound. It was dampened to prevent echoes with sound bouncing off the walls; the sounds were crisp and clear. The symbols drove the song to the guitar and highs and lows to the bass, and with Plant singing it was a unique experience. We both watched. Plant said, "hi" to Michael and he introduced me. The focus was on rehearsal as there was a tour coming up soon and they had the film "The Song Remains The Same" opening soon and the bands' upcoming "Presence Tour" in 1977.
They played their standard, and their anthem, 'Stairway to Heaven", which was mesmerizing as one would expect. Between Jon came over and said, "hi" and drank some water (always the vegetarian and healthy eater. The polar opposite of his brother who was their head roadie) and we asked if Jon might need a ride and he didn't, if I remember correctly, that is. I can't remember if I left by myself or if Michael left too. I'm thinking we both left at the same time…
So there was a surprise one evening during the week's lazy-hazy days in L.A.


DETECTIVE



JIMMY PAGE


REHEARSING




JOHN PAUL JONES



ROBERT PLANT