Forty seven years ago on memory lane

This was an interesting week in my life 47 years ago. A lot of my musical history happened 45 to 55 years ago and my memory is surprisingly still pretty clear. Lot of memories coming down the pike, especially next year. 77 was epic.

I flew back to Washington D.C. the last week of July 1979 for a condominium conference. I was building homes and projects back then. It turned out to be the most eventful flight of my life. A drunk passenger who had been cut off from alcohol tried to get into the cockpit and finally started beating on a male flight attendant.

I was amazed that everybody on the plane merely watched and I jumped up and tackled the man, pinning his arms behind his back. Only then did an undercover air marshal come up with handcuffs. Three of us tied him to his chair with belts for the remainder of the flight. 

He had a male companion but for the rest of the flight the man maintained that he didn't know him. He was on his own. I don't know if you have ever flown to Dulles but you leave the plane in the middle of the tarmac and get on busses or trains back to the terminal. We were met by about two dozen members of law enforcement with guns, waiting to take the guy in. They said he was going to away for a real long time.

I get on the bus and I get what might be the only standing ovation I have ever received in my life from my fellow passengers, for getting off my ass and doing something. I don't think I have ever mentioned it before but still feel proud of my actions.

At the end of the conference I flew to New York to see my mother. Lowell George of Little Feat was playing at the Bottom Line on the 24th of June, his only solo tour. I was a big Little Feat fan, had seen them at their best but by this time George was struggling with serious addiction. My wonderful friend Doug Garn accompanied me to the show.

George was extremely overweight by this time, wearing camouflage gear and sweating up a storm. It was a terrible night, you could feel that things were really off. Rode hard, put away wet.

It proved to be his penultimate show. He died in his hotel room four days later, after one last show at the Lisner Auditorium in Washington D.C..

I flew to Portland from New York, meeting my friend Mark Alderman for a Grateful Dead show at the Portland Speedway. 

Mark worked for Infinity Records, helped manage Spyro Gyra, had once worked for Cashbox. He loved the dead and the great bi-coastal scene that we were a part of.

He had swank digs off Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood.

He was a handsome, quick witted guy, could walk into any bar and come out with the most lovely companion. 

We once went to the Renaissance Fair and he astounded me shooting arrows, he was one of the most talented archers I have ever seen. He said he learned at camp.

Everything came easy for Mark.

Too easy. He fell for the wrong woman and eventually took his own life, not long after. 

Too many drugs in the equation back then. For many of us.

We stayed with his friend Joel, a very strange guy. Won't even talk about that weird night.

The Dead were playing with some real favorites of mine, Bromberg and McGuinn, Clark and Hillman. You can see the setlists here. I loved those guys but I don't remember a stellar performance.

It was a cold and drizzly morning when we got to the raceway. Bootleg posters advertised the show as Byrds and Dead.

I remember very little if anything of the music of the two opening acts at this point. The dead came on and delivered a decent if perfunctory first set. The nearby mountains provided a beautiful backdrop behind the stage.

At some point Bob Weir made what I thought at the time was a very cavalier and snide remark about Lowell's passing, "It was fun while it lasted." In any case, the weather got weird and we got some rain but not too much.

The high point of the show was an incredible Other One that seemed in perfect synch with the clouds which parted at the crescendo. One of the best I ever saw. Or heard I guess. You can hear the dead part here if you feel like it. But sometimes the recordings don't translate, you have to have been there.

I would skip to the Estimated Prophet but suit yourself.

I was talking to two friends yesterday, both rock and roll photographers, about how much fun we had back then. Leven shot jazz album covers and rock and roll for Fantasy, Peter did a lot of photo work for a lot of people, including the Eagles and maybe Capricorn.

We were lucky to be there for some great tunes. Thought it would last forever. It didn't. But like the late Bobby Ace said, it was fun while it lasted.

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Sad to hear that one of my favorite songwriters, Chip Taylor, has died. Taylor wrote Angel of the Morning and Wild Thing, as well as my personal favorite, Fuck all the perfect people amongst a host of other great tunes. He was a genius and the brother of John Voight, and a real character.