September 21, 1968 Pacific Recording, San Mateo, CA ("Jam with Vic and David")

Eric Burdon And The Animals on stage at the Windsor Jazz and Blues Festival on August 11, 1967. (L-R), John Weider (guitar), Vic Briggs (guitar ) and Burdon.

Grateful Dead history is a sprawling beast, and the internet contributes to that sprawl. Mining message boards and Comment threads often turns up all sorts of fascinating information, but the fragmentary nature of the communication makes it hard to gather that knowledge coherently. Patience is a virtue, however, particularly in archaeology, because digging slowly and carefully reveals sights unseen.

Back in 2007, David Lemieux posted a fragment of tape on Dead.net of a jam at Pacific Recording in San Mateo on September 21, 1968. in Fall '68, the Grateful Dead were just beginning the recording of what would become Aoxomoxoa, and Bob Weir and Pigpen were possibly not going on with the band. In 2012, a scant five years later, on a Deadlists post, I found out that there were two other guitar players on one of the tracks. David Lemieux said that they were listed as "David and Vic." We all assumed that the "David" was David Nelson, who had recently admitted that he had been invited to jam with the Dead-minus-Bob Weir around that time. But who was "Vic?" David Gans asked Nelson, who had no idea. There was another problem, too: Gans played the tape for Nelson, who said it wasn't his playing. Never mind who was Vic--who was David?

It's better to be lucky than good. I was pretty sure I knew who Vic was, and I was right. The 'Vic" on the tape was Vic Briggs, who at the time had just left his post as lead guitarist for Eric Burdon And The Animals. Thanks to our extensive history of the second, psychedelic Eric Burdon And The Animals from 1966 to 1968, I was in touch with Briggs, who has an extraordinary memory. Briggs not only confirmed the event, he remembered the other guitarist. This post will discuss the context of the September 21, 1968 jam at Pacific Recording with Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzmann, Vic Briggs and David Crosby.

The Grateful Dead, Fall 1968
Somewhere around September of 1968, the Grateful Dead had the infamous meeting in which Bob Weir and Pigpen were either threatened with being fired or actually fired, depending on what version you believe. Garcia and Lesh, apparently, felt that Weir and Pigpen's musical abilities had not grown as quickly as the other four band members, and that maybe the band would be better off without them. Pigpen's opinion was never directly known, but according to McNally, by October Weir basically considered himself fired.

However, the perpetually broke state of the Grateful Dead meant that the band continued to play shows with Weir and Pigpen, since they had no other meaningful source of income. Supposedly, the Dead had signed some contracts that required six musicians to be present, but in any case, Weir and Pigpen still played the late 1968 shows. By the end of the year, Weir seemed to have stepped up his game, and Tom Constanten had mustered out of the Air Force, allowing him to take permanent command of the keyboards. No meeting ever memorialized the changed status--Weir and Pigpen seemed to have simply figured out that they weren't going anywhere. The fact that Garcia, Lesh, Hart and Kreutzmann played occasional gigs at The Matrix as Mickey Hart And The Hartbeats also seemed to have fulfilled their own need to play certain kinds of unstructured music.

However, it's hard not to draw the conclusion that during the Fall '68 period, Garcia and Lesh were at least thinking about other musicians to replace Weir and/or Pigpen, and indeed Tom Constanten did take over the organ slot. Elvin Bishop was not aligned to a group in 1968, and he jammed some with the Hartbeats, and Jerry and Phil must have at least thought about him. David Gans confirmed with David Nelson that Nelson was invited to jam at Pacific Recording without Weir, probably in December, a pretty clear sign that the band hadn't made up it's mind. According to Nelson, the first song they played was "The Eleven," another sign to me that the "jam" was an audition, not just a goof.

Bob Matthews had started working at Pacific Recording in San Mateo in the Summer of '68, assisted by Betty Cantor. Mostly they recorded demos of unsigned song writers, including one session by John Dawson. By Fall, the Dead were ready to start recording their next album. On Friday, September 20, the Dead played Berkeley Community Theater, and on Sunday September 22, 1968, they played the Del Mar Fairgrounds near San Diego. The fact that the Dead not only went to the studio on the intervening Saturday night, but brought in two unaffiliated guitar player friends from out of town seems to be a pretty clear sign that Bob Weir was right to think his status in the band was shaky indeed.


Vic Briggs (in the hat) letting it rip on "Monterey" as Eric Burdon and The Animals play a Berlin television show in 1968

Eric Burdon And The Animals, 1966-1968
Vic Briggs had been one of two lead guitarists in the psychedelic configuration of Eric Burdon And The Animals, which ran from November 1966 through the end of 1968. The Animals had been a hugely popular "British Invasion" band from 1963 through 1966, but on one of their last tours, lead singer Eric Burdon had taken a day off in San Francisco (around August 9, 1966). Burdon experienced that rarest of events, a "warm San Franciscan night," and visited the Fillmore and Avalon, and it changed his music and life. Burdon, still a big star, reconstituted the Animals as a jamming psychedelic blues band.

I will refrain from telling the entire story of the second Animals (though you can read it all here), but guitarist Vic Briggs joined the group in November of 1966. The band's first American tour began in February of 1967. Although fans knew about Burdon from the "old" Animals, the new group's live sound was closer to Quicksilver Messenger Service, but with a dynamic lead singer. Briggs' jazzy approach to the guitar contrasted nicely with the bluesier approach of fellow guitarist John Weider (bassist Danny McCulloch and drummer Barry Jenkins filled out the group). Although live tapes are scarce, all the evidence suggests they were  a tremendous band. To the extent that the Animals sounded like Quicksilver, it was somewhat coincidental, since only Burdon had been to San Franciscos, and the Animals had ended up with their sound by their own path.

Needless to say, Eric Burdon and The Animals were a big hit in San Francisco. On March 26, 1967, the Dead were playing the Avalon, and The Animals--who at the time were much bigger stars--dropped by the show and played some songs as a guest act. This was where Vic Briggs first met the Dead. The Animals also played the Monterey Pop Festival in June of 1967. The band was very popular, and hugely popular in San Francisco. Although Burdon's lyrics sound dated now, the group had big hits, with "When I Was Young," "San Franciscan Nights, " "Monterey" and "Sky Pilot." Briggs took the swinging electric sitar solo on "Monterey," which he played on guitar when the band played live.

The second Animals had a great run, but they were beset by management and financial issues, and Eric Burdon could be a difficult bandleader. Briggs left the group in July 1968, on fairly amicable terms. Even though the entire band had relocated to Los Angeles, the Animals' guitar post was turned over to another old English pal, Andy Somers, today better known as Andy Summers, and famous as one-third of The Police. Eric Burdon And The Animals soldiered on until the end of 1968, while Briggs chose to become an independent producer in Los Angeles. When the Grateful Dead invited Briggs up to the Bay Area to jam in September 1968, Briggs was unaffiliated with any group.

David Crosby, Fall 1968
David Crosby's story is known to most rock fans, so I won't detail it. The famous party at Joni Mitchell's house where Graham Nash sang a third harmony part for Crosby and Stephen Stills (on the song "You Don't Have To Cry") took place in July 1968. By August 1968, Nash had left The Hollies and soon relocated to Los Angeles. By September 1968, Crosby, Stills and Nash were working together and plotting world domination. However, from the point of view of the Grateful Dead, who were long-standing friends, Crosby was another guy without a band. He had left The Byrds at the end of 1967, and had hardly recorded or performed since. Even if the Dead knew about Crosby's collaborators, it would hardly have seemed set in stone yet.

It's hard not to draw the conclusion that the Dead, or at least Garcia and Lesh, were shopping for new bandmembers. There had been a meeting where Weir and Pigpen were at least threatened with being fired, even if it was financially unviable, and the Dead were about to record their third album. Why invite two guitarists from Los Angeles up to the Bay Area, if the Dead weren't at least considering their options?

The 1969 Capitol/EMI album Wings Of A Man, by former Animals bassist Danny McCulloch, produced by Vic Briggs

Antion Meredith (Vic Briggs)
Fortunately, as a result of having worked extensively on the history of Eric Burdon And The Animals, I had been in touch with Vic Briggs. In this century, Briggs uses the name Antion Meredith and lives in New Zealand. The Vic Briggs story of being a musician in the 60s is a great one, but his life is, if anything, even more interesting after that, but you'll have to read about it yourself (and it's well worth the time).

Fortunately, Antion's memory is spectacularly good and his stories are always engaging, making him an ideal contact for a rock prosopographer. Thanks to the miracle of email, I found out quickly that I was right--Vic Briggs was the guest jammer.

(personal email from me to Antion Meredith)

It seems there is a tape in the Grateful Dead vault dated September 21, 1968 (a Saturday), and the tape is marked "jam with David and Vic." At the time, the Dead were thinking of firing Bob Weir and Pigpen (band politics) and fooling around with others. The 'David' was future NRPS guitarist and old Garcia pal David Nelson. However, other people, including the Dead's archivist [David Lemieux] said "I have no idea who the 'Vic' might be." Well, hey, I've got an idea who the Vic might have been...

Any chance you skipped out to Pacific Recording in San Mateo (near SF) in September '68 to jam with Garcia and the boys (not Weir) on "The Eleven" and other difficult stuff? Any chance they offered you the gig?

(personal email from Antion Meredith to me)

Lot of energy around this week.  On Tuesday I did an interview on
national TV here in NZ:
http://www.3news.co.nz/A-story-of-love-yoga-and-vampires/tabid/372/articleID/251728/Default.aspx

And today this print interview hit the internet:
http://www.stuff.co.nz/auckland/local-news/north-shore-times/6808993/Singing-to-a-new-tune

And now you write to me about that jam session.  I’m going to to tell you as much as I can remember about it.  For some reason I have barely talked to anyone about it in the last 45 years; probably because no one ever asked me.

We first met the Dead at that one off gig we did at the Avalon Ballroom in April of 1967 [sic-March 26, 1967].    I really hit it off with Bill Kruetzman and Phil Lesh who were sharing an apartment with their ladies in Haight-Ashbury a few blocks from the Dead House. (This meant that they never got busted along with the rest of the Dead when the cops raided the Dead House, but that’s another story).

After the Monterey Festival I went to stay with them when we played the Fillmore [June 27-July 2, 1967].  I flew back to LA for us to play the Whiskey [July 6-8] and then John Weider and I flew back to SFO to spend two weeks just hanging in the land of Hippiedom.  This was all in 1967.

Later, in the fall [October 19-21], we were back in the Bay Area.  I stayed with Bill and Phil again.  I also met Mickey for the first time.  He had joined the band since I had last been there.

I cannot remember how it came about but yes, I did find myself down at the San Mateo studios with Jerry and we played together.  I cannot remember who else played except for one person and this may surprise you.  If indeed this was the same tape (there may be a problem with dates, as I’ll explain in a minute), the David referred to is none other than David Crosby.

That’s right, one and the same, of the Byrds and later Crosby, Stills and Nash.  I have no idea what David was doing there but I am 100% certain he was there.  He didn’t play any lead, he left that to Jerry and me.  I do not remember who played bass, drums or anything else.

This was the only time that Jerry and I played together.  In retrospect I don’t remember why I never jammed with the Dead. I was around for some of their rehearsals at the Marin Heliport during the summer of 67 but I do not recall ever jamming with them except on this one occasion.  And, as I said, I can’t even remember if any more of them were there playing with Jerry, David and I.

A friend of mine who was also close to Jerry once asked him about me and my playing.  Jerry said to him “You know, I’ll tell you one thing about Vic.  When we played together, everywhere I went, there he was, right there with me.”

I certainly took this as a compliment because, in those days, there were not many guitarists’ who could keep up with Jerry.

That’s as much as I remember.  Now, here’s the problem.  Looking at your site and the dates on it, I would say that this event happened on Saturday October 21st 1967.

I remember a couple of days after we finished our Fillmore gig [October 19-21, 1967], flying to LA with Mickey Hart.  The Dead were heading for LA, I think to record.  That was when they rented that big mansion house which later became notorious.  It is shown in Lisa Law’s Flashing on the Sixties book [note: Pacific Recording was not open in 1967, so the date has to be September 1968, not October 1967].

I’m not 100% certain and my mind was starting to get pretty addled at the time, so it is quite possible that I confused this with 1968.  In October of 68 I was by then an independent producer/arranger in LA and it is certainly possible that I was up in the Bay Area for a visit.

Anyway, here’s what I know for sure.

• I jammed with Jerry at the San Mateo studio.
• David Crosby was there, also playing.
• It was a Saturday (I have this funny talent for remembering the energy
  of different days of the week and associating them with events that
  happened on that day). So it may be that my memory is off and this actually happened in 1968.
• However, no one ever said anything to me about maybe joining the Dead.

One day I’ll tell you how Jerry and I met up again at Bill Walton’s house in San Diego in 1989 and how I was inspired to buy the first guitar I had owned since 1970.

September 21, 1968
Although Vic Briggs was our only eyewitness to the September 21, 1968 jam, there was nothing casual about the event. The Grateful Dead had gigs on a Friday and a Sunday, and the Sunday gig was out of town, and yet they invited two friends over for a jam, with two other players missing. Both of the players were Los Angeles musicians, too. Now, it's possible that both of them had reasons to be in town, which Vic alludes to, but it still had to be planned and organized.

Pacific Recording is in San Mateo, on the South Bay Peninsula, between Palo Alto and San Francisco. It's not near anything, and LA rock musicians do not "hang out" in San Mateo. The Dead themselves were based in Novato at this time, an hour to the North, so it wasn't really convenient for them, either. I would note, however, that San Mateo was only a few minutes from San Francisco Airport, so if either of their guests were flying into or out of SFO, Pacific Recording would have been extremely convenient.

Maybe it was just for fun. Maybe the players were in town, and Garcia and the Hartbeats were having a jam without Weir and Pig, and invited them over. No one asked Vic to join the band, so at the most any plans were somewhat unspoken. Still, it happened. Members of the Grateful Dead invited some guitar player friends to the studio and the thought of another version of the Grateful Dead had to at least have crossed Jerry's mind, if not Phil's. We are fortunate to have the very slightest trace as to what they might have been thinking, just for the evening of September 21, 1968.

September 2, 1966, Ayn and Lyn Mattei Debutante Ball, La Dolphine Mansion, 1760 Manor Drive, Hillsborough, CA: The Grateful Dead/Al Trobe

Joan White's San Francisco Examiner Society column from Monday, September 5, 1966, celebrating a debutante ball on the previous Friday featuring the Grateful Dead at a mansion in the wealthy South Bay town of Hillsborough

People such as myself who have regularly analyzed the historic lists of Grateful Dead concert appearances have been aware of the band playing at a debutante ball in exclusive Hillsborough on Friday, September 2, 1966. Like many people, I had generally assumed this to be Bob Weir's sister's debutante ball. However, Eric of LoneStarDeadRadio recently sent me the newspaper source for the information, and it tells a somewhat different story. It's still true, though: the Grateful Dead, then known as scary long-haired, drug-addled outlaws, played a high society ball for the most eligible of young ladies, at perhaps the biggest mansion in the toniest town in the Bay Area.

Debutante Balls and High Society in the United States
Before we get down to the serious business of Grateful Dead performances, a word about debutante balls is in order. For some centuries in France and England, young women of the upper classes made their "debut" amongst their peers when they were eligible to marry (as Jane Austen put it, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife"). They were presented to eligible young men in a series of parties and dances, and formally speaking their "debut" was when they were presented to royalty. Wealthy Americans adopted similar traditions, although obviously without the presentation to Royalty. At least until the 1960s, most major metropolitan areas had a system of parties and events that led to a formal "cotillion" where eligible young women from usually wealthy families were formally presented as part of adult society.

The parents of these debutantes had usually spent significant money on parties and dances leading up to the major event, although there was no formal structure. The young women were known as "debutantes," and were often local celebrities in their own right. Such events were written up in the  local papers. The major papers in the Bay Area all had "society columnists:" the infamous Patsy Lou Montandon was the San Francisco Chronicle's society columnist (her immortal 1968 book How To Be A Party Girl is a true camp classic), and Joan White was the SF Examiner columnist. Appearing in the society column in effect made a young woman part of the upper class, whether or not that was a true representation of the family's income.

A photo from the September 5, 1966 San Francisco Examiner. The caption reads "Bob Weir of "The Grateful Dead" wails away at ball which was also attended by his deb sister, Wendy Weir."

Joan White's Column in the San Francisco Examiner, Monday, September 5, 1966
For those of you who can't expand the screen easily, here are the key parts of the article (up top) [update: the article refers to the family as "Mattel" with an L, but I am assured now that the family spelled the name "Mattei."]

Brilliant Deb Ball In A Bay Chateau
Debs Danced To Rock 'n' Roll Beat
by Joan White, Examiner Society Editor
La Dolphine, the beautiful Hillsborough mansion that has been silent and unoccupied off and on since it was built before World War 1, burst into brilliant life with a rock 'n' roll beat Friday night, for a deb ball the Albert C. Mattels gave for their granddaughters, Ayn and Lyn Mattel [sic].

The Mattels have been leasing the home, which is modeled after Le Petit Trianon at Versailles, for six months of the year from the Hugh Chisholms.

The 18th century styled chateau is set in 3 1/2 acres of terraced gardens which were floodlighted with pink and white spots for the party. Despite the evening's chill, the young set stayed outside to dance to the rhythms of the Grateful Dead, while their elders remained in the ballroom where Al Trobe played.

It was a wonderful mixture of old elegance and Carnaby Street. In fact, two young men, Bruce Webster and William Lombardo, wore their dinner jackets over mod pants and boots. And another was in acceptable black tie with the exception of the wide mod belt that circled his waist.

One of the members of the Grateful Dead is Bob Weir, the brother of Peninsula Ball deb Wendy Weir, who made her bow earlier this year at a marvelous pop party at San Francisco Airport.

The beat of the band was so infectious that the adults were eventually lured to the outdoors dance platform where credible frugs were performed by Mrs. Ernest O. McCormick and Berens Nelson, and Mrs. William Wallace Mein Jr and Bryan Hemming.

Guests were shuttled up the drive to the mansion by Volkswagen buses. Pots of yellow spider-chrysanthemum lined the divided staircase where dinner tables were covered with moss green cloths and centered with yellow and white chrysanthemums and white candles.

La Dolphine Mansion, 1760 Manor Drive, Hillsborough, CA, just south of San Francisco

Society And 60s Rock
Up until the mid-60s, becoming a debutante was an indisputably glamorous thing for a young woman to do. Debutantes could hope (truthfully or not) to be the envy of all their peers, and might even become local celebrities. Young people are young, however, and one different thing about "society" events is that they were attended by both young and old people. Where a dance was involved, the sixties solution was to have two groups: a big band to play dance music for adults, and a rock group to provide dance music for the younger set. The groups would typically alternate, giving each social set a break to relax and mingle while the opposite group played. In the Bay Area, at least, and probably in many places, playing a society dance was a common paying gig for working bands. In some cases, they had to wear suits and ties to do it, but a paid booking was a paid booking.

The La Dolphine event seems to have been on a far grander scale than a typical debutante dance. For one thing, the mansion was so big that the two bands could play simultaneously. The Grateful Dead played outdoors, while pianist Al Trobe (probably leading a Count Basie-style big band) played in the ballroom. Keep in mind also that probably about 200 people were invited to the event, at most, and only half of them would have been interested in a rock band. Thus the Grateful Dead were engaged to entertain 100 teenagers.

In September 1966, the Grateful Dead had not yet released an album, and they were more infamous than famous. Nonetheless, they were becoming San Francisco headliners. The La Dolphine ball was on the Friday of Labor Day weekend, and on that Sunday night the Dead would be headlining the Fillmore. While the Dead were far cheaper to hire in Fall '66 than they would be later, hiring a Fillmore headliner would be far more expensive than the usual teenage dance combo. Clearly, the event was on a higher order than a typical dance.

Eric of LoneStarDeadRadio, who procured the newspaper article up top, did have an interesting, if unverifiable story that he sent me in a personal email

amazingly enough after I posted it in Facebook someone commented that he is married to the sister of the 2 girls mentioned in the article the Mattei sisters Ayn and Lynn he said they were in Europe and wouldn't come home for deb ball unless grandma Mattei got the Dead to play so the old lady made it happen or so the story goes

I find this story pretty plausible. Under normal circumstances, a debutante ball would not hire an expensive city headliner, when any local combo would do. However, if the granddaughters insisted on a certain band, a family that could accord to rent La Dolphine could afford the Dead's fees, whatever they were. Given that Bob Weir's sister was part of the same society circles, it would not have been hard to approach the band, and the group surely needed the money.

So, props to the Mattei sisters, for choosing to have the Grateful Dead when they could have had anything. Certainly if I was having a party for 100 of my friends, and I wanted a band for dancing, the 1966 Grateful Dead would be a great choice. I suspect the Dead may have dusted off some favorites by the Rolling Stones and the Olympics that didn't get played as much at the Avalon and the Fillmore, but I doubt we'll find out. Many of the attendees may have only been vaguely aware, if at all, of the name of the scruffy, unsigned band who were playing the dance music. But here's to hoping that Ayn and Lynn are still out there, and maybe they can tell us the setlist highlights, at least.

The Players
Albert C Mattel
Albert C Mattel had been President of the Honolulu Oil Company, until it was bought out by Jersey Oil in 1962, which is today better known as Exxon. The Honolulu Oil Company was associated with the 19th century steamship captain and entrepreneur William Matson, who was a pioneer of the San Francisco to Honolulu trade. However, the Honolulu Oil Company was based in San Francisco, and when it was sold in 1910 its principal fields were in Kern and Coalinga, CA. While the Mattel family was clearly quite wealthy, there was no connection to the Mattel toy company [note: I don't know why the name is googlable as Mattel, even though the family name was Mattei by this time]

Hillsborough, CA
Hillsborough is a wealthy Peninsula town halfway between San Francisco and Palo Alto. It is on the hills overlooking the Bay, just above San Mateo and Burlingame. Beginning with the formation of the Burlingame Country Club in 1893, Hillsborough society flourished around this area, with many of San Francisco’s most influential citizens commuting to country leisure via the newly minted Burlingame Train Depot. Several magnificent estates remain, including La Dolphine, orginally built for George Newhall by Lewis Hobart in 1913, then on 20 acres and known as Newmar.

The peninsula south of San Francisco had originally been a mixture of farms and "country estates" for wealthy city residents. The Southern Pacific train line extended down to Menlo Park because SP partners had huge estates there. After Leland Stanford and Timothy Hopkins purchased land in 1875 to create Palo Alto and Stanford University, the line was extended down to Palo Alto. By the mid-20th century, however, while the South Bay was prosperous, they were by and large typical middle class suburbs.

A few communities, however, were still the provinces of the rich, particularly old San Francisco money. Old San Francisco money styled themselves as very European, and flashing wealth in public was frowned upon, but debutante balls were a place where conspicuous consumption was not forbidden. In the picture above, I suspect that the necklaces the Mattei sisters are wearing were not costume jewelry. Hillsborough was by far the toniest and richest community in the South Bay, followed closely by Atherton, where Bob Weir grew up. Nonetheless, save for a few families, possibly including the Matteis, most residents of Hillsborough and Atherton were not crazy rich in the way that Silicon Valley residents are today.

The Good News perform at a debutante ball, with their strobe-light-ready clothing. The caption from  a forgotten newspaper says "Peninsula Deb Janet Laird, Steve Boyden dance to the Big Beat"--clipping courtesy Tim Abbot

Wendy Weir's Debutante Ball, Spring 1966
For many years I (and others) had assumed that the La Dolphine event was for Wendy Weir, and that was why the Grateful Dead had played it. However, while Wendy must have been instrumental in making sure the Dead played La Dolphine, according to the article, it turns out that Wendy had come out in the Spring of that year. Joan White's article says "Peninsula Ball deb Wendy Weir, who made her bow earlier this year at a marvelous pop party at San Francisco Airport." If Wendy Weir debuted at a marvelous pop party, why didn't the Grateful Dead play at it? The issue appears to have been one of scheduling.

Generally speaking, debs do not "come out" in the Summer, so Wendy's event must have been in April or May of 1966, or even earlier. A debutante dance was a carefully planned event, so all the arrangements must have been made months in advance. Back in February and March of 1966, the Grateful Dead had relocated to Los Angeles, seemingly permanently, to "make it" in the music business. Thus they would not have seemed to have been available for Wendy Weir's event. Of course, we know that the Dead had returned to the Bay Area by April, but the debutante ball would already have been booked. If there had even been a plan to have the Grateful Dead play for Wendy, and there's no certainty that there was, the band missed any opportunity to book themselves in advance.

However, the discovery of this article solves a peculiar little mystery, and as a result I know which pop band played Wendy Weir's party. Sometime ago, I published a post on the interesting history of Redwood City's first blues band, The Good News. Besides being one of the first white blues bands in the Bay Area, modeled on the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, The Good News also seem to have been the first band around the Bay Area to tour with their own light show. The light show was mainly a strobe light, but that was pretty far out for the time. The band wore outrageously colored Day-Glo clothes that looked exotic under the strobes.

I learned about The Good News in detail from their lead guitarist Tim Abbott. Abbott went on to play with The Chocolate Watch Band (and later Shango), but he mentioned in passing that The Good News had played a debutante party for Bob Weir's sister at the SFO Airport. I had wondered about that, since I had thought her big event was at La Dolphine, but Joan White's article confirms that Wendy came out at the Airport. Strange as it may seem, SFO Airport was fairly new at the time, and there was a lounge that could be rented. I suspect that if guests were flying in, it was very convenient. In 1966, at least, it must have been a desirable place to host an event, and with the strobe lights and DayGlo clothes of The Good News, it must have indeed been a marvelous pop party.

The picture of the Good News above was sent to me courtesy of Tim Abbott, and it was taken at a South Bay deb party, even though Abbott no longer remembers which one, where it was held, or what the newspaper was. It's not impossible that the picture actually was from Wendy's deb party, but in any case it's a good representation of what her event must have been like.

Yet the world of the South Bay was still quite small in the 60s. When the Mattei sisters wanted a specific band at their event, one of the band members had a sister who was part of their social circle. The Good News were a popular South Bay blues band in Spring 1966, but since they never recorded, they are thoroughly forgotten now. However, besides lead guitarist Abbott, the other members included lead singer Dave Torbert and drummer Chris Herold. Both Torbert and Herold would leave The Good News to join The New Delhi River Band with David Nelson. Torbert and Nelson went on to join the New Riders Of The Purple Sage, and when Torbert left the Riders, he re-united with Herold. Herold and Torbert went on to form Kingfish in 1974, and of course Bob Weir joined Kingfish a few months later. I wonder if Torbert and Herold recalled that they had played Wendy Weir's debutante ball eight years earlier?

Appendix
September 4, 1968 Suzanne Bradford Debutante Ball, Burlingame Country Club, Burlingame, CA: The Sons Of Champlin/Walt Tolleson Orchestra
Bay Area Rock bands regularly played Debutante Balls in the 60s, usually on their way up the ladder. Just for comparison, here is a clip from Oakland Tribune society columnist Robin Orr, describing an event where the Sons Of Champlin alternated with a local big band. I think this event was a more typical debutante ball, while the Mattel sisters event at La Dolphine was grand even for the well-to-do.

Two members of the Sons Of Champlin, pianist Geoff Palmer and guitarist Terry Haggerty, were the sons of professional musicians. In fact, Terry's dad, Frank Haggerty, a fine jazz guitarist, even played some gigs with Al Trobe, so it's not impossible that he had played the La Dolphine show.

Robin Orr's society column from the Oakland Tribune on September 5, 1966. A debutante dance was held at the Burlingame Country Club that featured both the Sons Of Champlin and The Walt Tolleson Orchestra

Fall 1968, Pacific Recorders, San Mateo: Marmaduke Demos (New Riders Roots)

John Dawson, circa early 70s

The conventional story about the birth of the New Riders of The Purple Sage has been told many times, usually by members of the band itself: Jerry Garcia bought a pedal steel guitar in Colorado in April 1969, and shortly afterward old Palo Alto friend John Dawson came over to his house to hear Garcia play it. Dawson brought his own guitar and played his own songs, and Garcia liked the sound, so Garcia started to play along with Dawson at his Wednesday night hofbrau gig in Menlo Park. Old friend David Nelson joined in, and by the end of May the trio had hatched a plan to form a new country rock band. 

This story is true, at least as far as I know. It continually surprises me, however, how often that various events in Grateful Dead history that seem to be settled fact turn out to have an entirely different context that causes me to think of events in a different light. The "Birth Of The New Riders" saga has always been presented as a serendipitous, chance occurrence, as only Garcia's random purchase of a pedal steel guitar and Dawson's casual presence at a Dead rehearsal caused the New Riders to arise fully formed.

Recently, however, I was fortunate enough to hear an extensive interview with Grateful Dead engineer Betty Cantor, thanks to the good offices of David Gans. Cantor talked extensively to Gans about the recording of Aoxomoxoa, Live/Dead and Workingman's Dead, among other projects. While we can anticipate that Mr. Gans will share the best parts of this interview in the future, on the Deadhead Hour or on KPFA, a passing remark from Ms. Cantor caused me to re-think the entire genesis of the New Riders.

In the context of talking about how she learned to work in the studio, Cantor talked about the different things she did, such as setting up microphones. Then she added, most unexpectedly,

Plus we did a lot of demos down there, with Marmaduke, John Dawson, before the New Riders. I got to be the drummer! To keep John in time. He was great, great songwriter, great player, couldn’t keep time real well. So I just had to play snare, high hat, kick, keep in time. I got to be the drummer on the demo, it was real fun.

I am pretty knowledgeable about the New Riders, but I knew nothing about any demos with just John Dawson and a rudimentary drummer. Of course, I realized that the tape had probably been erased, as professional recording tape was expensive, but it forced me to consider the context: why were the Grateful Dead recording John Dawson demos in late 1968 or early 1969?

The cover of the 1969 Grateful Dead album Aoxomoxoa

Now, the Grateful Dead's contract with Warner Brothers gave them unlimited studio time, even though the cost of that studio time would be owed back by the band through royalties. The band went over the top during the recording of Aoxomoxoa. From September through December 1968, they recorded at a new studio in San Mateo called Pacific Recorders, helping to put together the studio itself while recording a complete album on 8 and 12-track machines. The planned album was supposed to be called Earthquake Country. After three months, however, the band discovered that they could get one of the first state-of-the-art 16-track Ampex tape machines, and decided to simply re-record the entire album. Over the next few months they recorded what we now know as Aoxomoxoa, along with several shows at the Avalon and the Fillmore West, which later became Live/Dead and the retrospective Live At Fillmore West box. By the end of the process, the band was $180,000 in debt to Warner Brothers, serious money in 1969, particularly for a band who had never had anything resembling a hit.

How did the Grateful Dead use all this studio time? According to Cantor, there was a lot of experimentation, some of it quite serious, some of it just goofing off. According to her, almost none of the experimenting was preserved, for good or for ill. Although she doesn't specifically say so, I know that one of the reasons for that was the expense of recording tape. I know that the recordings of the Avalon on January 24-26, 1969 that were not used for Live/Dead were simply erased and recorded over for Fillmore West a few weeks later. It may seem odd that a band willing to go over $100,000 in debt would be cheap about tape, but I have a feeling that the studio would bill through Warner Brothers but the band had to pay actual cash money for the recording tape, and the Dead always had a cash squeeze.

Nonetheless, it seems that the Dead were using their own studio time to record demos for one of their friends. There's no other way to interpret the Marmaduke recordings in San Mateo than to think that the Dead had plans to make music with Dawson, probably by getting him a record contract. It may have been that the Dead had studio time booked when the band had shows scheduled, so recording Dawson's demos may have been a way to make use of the time when the band wasn't there. Like many good engineers, Betty Cantor could play a little music (she apparently was a good piano player), but Bob Matthews would have only used her on drums if no one else was available. I have to think that manager Lenny Hart had a plan to sign John Dawson to a record contract, but it's clear that if Dawson was recording demos, the band was on board with the plan. However, knowing that Dawson recorded demos in late 1968 puts the New Riders genesis in a totally different light. Garcia's new pedal steel guitar may have put Dawson's songs in a new context, but Garcia and Dawson had apparently already been trying to make Dawson into a singer/songwriter already.

The cover to the 1986 Relix lp Before Time Began

I was thinking about the presumably lost Marmaduke demos, and I realized that there was a piece of the puzzle that I had completely overlooked. In 1986, Relix Records released an archival New Riders lp called Before Time Began (Relix 2024), which included two inexplicable John Dawson demos with clearly inaccurate recording history. I realized that these two mystery tracks must have been the end result of Dawson's demos for the Aoxomoxoa sessions.

Relix Records
Relix Records was the recording wing of Relix Magazine, a Brooklyn based music publication. The magazine and label focused on the Grateful Dead family, Hot Tuna and related San Francisco bands in the 1980s, when there was very little interest in those groups elsewhere. The record label released a lot of interesting music, but it was run on a shoestring basis, like many independents. I suspect that the label generally operated on a cash basis, paying out money as they got it, which was probably much appreciated by its artists. Certainly artists like Robert Hunter and Jorma Kaukonen released several albums each with the label, so they must have been happy with how they were treated.

Back in the day, I was intensely bothered by the fact that the liner notes and recording information for Relix releases were scant, and often startlingly inaccurate. For example, a Kingfish album released in the 1980s clearly included material that must have been recorded in the 1970s, but there were overdubs from current band members, with no explanation of the process in the notes. There was even a track left off the liner notes. At the time, I thought that Relix staff was inattentive, but I now think the mistakes were so persistent that they did them on purpose. At the very least, Relix had a vested interest in not correcting their mistakes, although I am left to speculate why that might have been.

Before Time Began featured four songs ("Henry", "All I Ever Wanted", "Last Lonely Eagle", "Cecilia") by the New Riders Of The Purple Sage and two ("Garden Of Eden", "Superman") by John Dawson. The four NRPS songs were apparently recorded in November 1969 at Pacific High Recorders in San Francisco,  with a lineup of Dawson, Nelson, Garcia, Mickey Hart and Phil Lesh. The two Dawson songs are identified as having been recorded at Pacific Recording in San Mateo in July 1968. The tracks are said to have been recorded "with the help of Garcia and some members of Doug Sahm's group." Based on the information I now have, I am much better able to make a plausible hypothesis about the Dawson demos released on the album.

First of all, I think we can safely dismiss the July 1968 date for the Dawson demos. The Dead were not in Pacific Recording at the time, and I put no credence in dates from Relix liner notes. Since Betty Cantor recalls recording demos with Dawson, I think late 1968 makes much more sense. It also make sense that after Marmaduke and Betty--sounds like a cartoon duo, doesn't it?--recorded some demos together, a few of the tracks were re-recorded and built up into legitimate demos. I have to think that Lenny Hart, at least, played the demos for some record company guys--maybe Clive Davis heard about Dawson from these demos, long before the New Riders. In any case, they must have had no takers, but that in itself seems odd, since record companies were signing every band in San Francisco.

The way Betty Cantor described the recording process at Pacific Recording, there was a tendency to get a good take and then experiment with mixes and overdubs, without really saving anything but the final copy. The vagueness about the backing musicians, as "Garcia and some members of Doug Sahm's group" may stem from the fact that there was a variety of overdubs and "punch-ins" (recording over a musical or vocal part, often for just a few phrases or a verse), and no one recalls who actually played what. Of course, there may be other reasons that no one remembers who played what.

While I'm sure Garcia helped with the Marmaduke demos, I have to take the Relix liner notes with a grain of salt. The label had a vested interest in claiming Garcia's involvement, so the fact that he isn't particularly audible suggests to me that Garcia was involved in the arranging or the mixing, but didn't have a big role in the actual performances on the demos. I have been told that some pedal steel guitar parts are played by Lowell "Banana" Levenger, of the Youngbloods. Banana was an old pal of Rick Turner, who became a key player when Alembic was formed shortly after Aoxomoxoa (by Turner, Owsley Stanley and former Ampex engineer Ron Wickersham), so that may have been why Banana was present, if indeed he was. It's also true that Garcia owned a Fender pedal steel guitar around 1967 which he sold to Banana, so perhaps Banana was playing Garcia's old instrument, a strange coincidence that would fit right in.

Doug Sahm and some of his band members had moved to San Francisco from Texas after a 1966 pot bust, a very scary proposition in  Texas. Sahm had numerous band members, some of them sort of rotating in and out, so it's hard to say who might have played on the demos. Also, most of the Sir Douglas Quintet, including Sahm, were talented on numerous instruments, so it's even harder to say which members might have actually been on the recordings. The interesting Grateful Dead/Doug Sahm connection in 1968 was that Sahm was on Mercury, and he recorded extensively in that label's San Francisco studios on Mission Street. And who was the house engineer at Mercury West? Why, Dan Healy, of course, so there were plenty of connections between Sahm and the Grateful Dead.  Hence, finding the Sir Douglas Quintet over in the South Bay helping out in the studio isn't surprising.

In 1968, Mercury Records made a big splash by announcing that they had signed 12 bands in San Francisco on the same day. The most famous of these was Doug Sahm and the Sir Douglas Quintet, but they signed plenty of obscure artists. Mercury also recorded some demos for a Pigpen solo album in 1969, believe it or not, so they must have been sniffing around the Grateful Dead when the band's contract was ready to expire in 1969.  Mercury, like many labels, was signing everyone in San Francisco, including some really forgettable artists. With this in mind, considering the Dan Healy/Doug Sahm connection, I find it strange that no record company was interested in John Dawson's demos. Even the Grateful Dead would not pay to record their friend's demos without having some plan, however harebrained, to find a way to allow Dawson to record a real record.

Conclusions
Until we get more information, I'll end with a series of propositions. I'm hoping for some proof or contradictions from anyone with more information or some clever ideas.

• The "Marmaduke Demos" on Before Time Again were recorded in late 1968 at Pacific Recording
• The initial demos featured just John Dawson and Betty Cantor on drums, but these were probably superseded and may not have survived
• The two surviving demos were probably built up with a variety of overdubs and punch ins, so it might not be clear who played on what track, even if anyone was in a state to remember
• The Grateful Dead family was interested in turning John Dawson into a recording artist as early as 1968, and willing to spend their own studio time to do it, even though nothing ever came of it, so the New Riders project can be seen as a solution rather than a random idea
• When Garcia played pedal steel to Dawson's songs for the first time in April 1969, he not only probably knew the songs, he had been actively working on trying to record Dawson
• Garcia's pedal steel guitar was a new sound for Dawson's music, but it was the sound that was new, not the songs. I maintain my working hypothesis that for Garcia, the New Riders was really about the sound of the band rather than the notes and melodies themselves

December 12, 1981 Fiesta Hall, San Mateo County Fairgrounds, San Mateo, CA: Grateful Dead/Joan Baez/High Noon "Dance For Nuclear Disarmarment"

On December 12, 1981, the Grateful Dead played a low profile benefit at the relatively small Fiesta Hall on the San Mateo County Fairgrounds. The show was advertised as "Dance For Nuclear Disarmament with Joan Baez and Friends." I forget how it was billed exactly, but Jerry Garcia and other members of the Grateful Dead were listed as the guests. The implication of the billing was that this show would be another version of the two benefits the Dead had played earlier in the year, where the "Acoustic Dead," with John Kahn on bass, had headlined over a variety of acoustic performers. Fiesta Hall was tiny, with a capacity of around 2,000, and the show sounded like fun. As it turned out, it was indeed fun, but it wasn't what we expected.

The configuration of the "Dance For Disarmament" was very odd. Since audience and soundboard tapes circulate, I am using this post to describe the event itself and to emphasize the particularly unique aspects of the show, and I will limit my comments on the music. Most shows from the early 70s onward fit into some very basic models. The two acoustic benefits in 1981 (Apr 25 at Berkeley Community Theater and May 22 at the Fox-Warfield) were an exception, but the Dance For Disarmament fit neither the traditional molds nor the newer "Acoustic Benefit" model. There are some parallels to the Dance For Disarmament in 60s and early 70s shows, but none later. Nothing like the format for the December 12, 1981 show was ever attempted again, so in some back door kind of way it must have been a significant show. To my knowledge, no member of the Dead has ever made a meaningful comment about the event.

The significantly unique events on December 12, 1981 were:

• Brent Mydland played grand piano in an electric Grateful Dead set
• The Dead played a single electric and a single acoustic set
• One of the opening acts was a band featuring an active member of The Grateful Dead
• The Dead backed up another artist for an entire set
• Jerry Garcia walked off stage during the show and left the rest of the band to finish the set

(a recent photo of Fiesta Hall at the San Mateo County Events Center)

Fiesta Hall, San Mateo County Fairgrounds, 1346 Saratoga Dr, San Mateo, CA
The San Mateo County Fairgrounds are located on Hillsdale Boulevard, between El Camino Real and Highway 101, about halfway between San Francisco and Palo Alto. As such, the Fairgrounds would have been a regular part of the landscape in the days when the fledgling Warlocks were working the joints on the El Camino in the Fall of '65. Indeed, the Fairgrounds were practically within walking distance of The In Room on the Old County Road in Belmont, the next town South. Since I assume that all the Dead members drove themselves to the show, only Brent Mydland would have needed directions. Everybody else in the band would have known where it was. Even though Mickey Hart had never played the In Room, Drum City, his father's drum shop, had been near the El Camino in San Carlos, the next town South of Belmont.

The Grateful Dead had played the San Mateo County Fairgrounds before, on May 9, 1969, but almost nothing is known of that show. They are listed (in Deadbase and elsewhere) as having played The Hall Of Flowers at the Fairgrounds. There is no such building by that name today, but there are several buildings, and any or all of them may have been re-named. Fiesta Hall is a modest sized pavilion with a capacity of about 2,000. It was mostly used for trade shows and other such events, but relatively rarely used for rock concerts. I did see Journey there in 1975, but at the time Journey were an unsigned band without a record contract, albeit an unsigned band with two former members of Santana and Aynsley Dunbar (plus two guys from Frumious Bandersnatch).

Jerry Garcia and Joan Baez
Joan Baez had gone to Palo Alto High School (preceding Bill Kreutzmann, Ron McKernan and me), where she had become locally famous for refusing to participate in "duck and cover" nuclear attack drills. After her family moved to Boston in 1958, she became Nationally famous as the clear voiced siren of young white folk singers. She mixed modern activism with traditional folk music, singing and playing in a simple, personal style that made her accessible to young and old alike. More serious practitioners of folk music thought of her as a trivial artist who had turned her looks and a few well known songs into a career.

One of those serious practitioners of folk music was Jerry Garcia. Blair Jackson speaks about the resentment Jerry Garcia had for Joan Baez's success (p.54), when he felt he was the superior musician. This was particularly frustrating for Garcia, as his girlfriend Sara Ruppenthal was friendly with Baez, who had returned to the Bay Area. In fact, Baez invited Sara to accompany her on a European tour, but this was obviated when Jerry got Sara pregnant, and marriage and motherhood replaced a tour of European venues for her.

By 1981, Joan Baez was more famous than ever for committed activism, first against the Vietnam War and by the late 1970s against nuclear power and nuclear weapons. Although Baez had had periodic successes, particularly with the 1975 album Diamonds And Rust, by the early 1980s she was much better known as a political figure than as a record or concert attraction. Many musicians had taken up the cause of nuclear disarmament by 1980, and Joan Baez was among them. In 1981, Joan Baez and Mickey Hart were dating, so it's not surprising that Joan managed to persuade the Dead to play a Nuclear Disarmament benefit.

In 1981, the Grateful Dead were a top-selling act at major East Coast venues, and sold a fair number of tickets on the West Coast as well, but without the "Grateful Dead" name they were not a huge draw. Granted, just the name "Jerry Garcia" sold out Fiesta Hall with almost no advertising, but while there were a few people outside looking for tickets, the scene was not mobbed or out of control. Since Jerry Garcia played the Keystone clubs constantly, the area's desire to see him play was fairly sated. It must have given Garcia a certain amount of satisfaction, however, for Joan Baez to need him to sell out her benefit. Back in the early 1960s, it would have been the other way around, and I think the competitive side of Garcia is often overlooked when compared to his many other interests. In fact, Garcia's actual feelings about the concert was of considerable interest to me after the show ended.

(my notes from the December 12, 1981 Grateful Dead show, written up that evening. At the time--and still--I was more interested in who performed and what instruments they had played, rather than setlists)

High Noon with Mickey Hart
Fiesta Hall was a rectangular building with the stage in the center of one of the long sides, rather than at the far end. Thus the crowd was spread widely, but everyone wasn't too far from one side of the stage or the other. The show was general admission, and sold out, but it wasn't particularly crowded.

We entered the concert expecting a performance by Joan Baez and then an acoustic set by the Grateful Dead, along the lines of what they had done at Berkeley and the Fox-Warfield earlier in the year. I no longer recall if Mickey Hart or High Noon was advertised, but perhaps they were. In any case, when High Noon opened the show it was still surprising. High Noon had debuted at the May 22 Warfield benefit, seemingly put together to back Country Joe McDonald. The band had played Bay Area nightclubs throughout the Summer, mostly featuring the songs of Jim McPherson. Joan Baez had guested regularly with the group, singing a song or two at many club dates.

High Noon had a one-time lineup, suggesting that the group was re-activated for just this show. The lineup was

• Mike Hinton-lead guitar
• Jim McPherson-guitar, vocals
• Merl Saunders-organ, electric piano, synthesizer, vocals
• Chuck Rainey-bass
• Mickey Hart-drums

Regular High Noon members Norton Buffalo (harmonica), Bobby Vega (bass) and Vicki Randle (congas) were missing from the lineup. Guest bassist Chuck Rainey was a session legend. I recognized him from one of my favorite jazz guitar albums, Larry Coryell's Fairyland (never released on cd, sad to say). High Noon played a brief, enjoyable set, featuring songs I recognized from having seen them before, including Merl's version of Nina Simone's "Do I Move You." Chuck Rainey was great, although mainly playing in a funky, laid back style, befitting a legend.

The New Riders Of The Purple Sage had opened numerous Grateful Dead shows when they featured Jerry Garcia and Mickey Hart during the 1969-71 period, but despite the profusion of Grateful Dead spinoff bands since then I can only think of one other time where any of them opened for the Grateful Dead. At the "Bob Fried Memorial Boogie" at Winterland on June 17, 1975, both Kingfish and Keith and Donna opened for the Grateful Dead (billed as Jerry Garcia and Friends), but other than that time this High Noon appearance was the only time I can recall where a Dead satellite band was the group's opening act. 

High Noon with Joan Baez
After several numbers, and probably about 30-45 minutes, High Noon invited Joan Baez and Bill Kreutzmann on stage. Kreutzmann played some percussion, as there were not two drum kits set up, and Joan played acoustic guitar and sang. She was popularly received by the crowd. I was not a Joan Baez fan, so I retired to a sort of ante-room where I could get a soft drink and relax. We could still hear the music in a muffled sort of way. Joan performed the song "Diamonds And Rust" and a few others.

After Joan Baez had played a few numbers with High Noon, the band left the stage for her solo performance. This was still more or less what I had expected.  I could still hear her from the room we were in, not well, but well enough to know if some surprise special guests were announced or something. Joan Baez is like cauliflower--appealing to some people and not to others. She plays basic songs in a very simple way that emphasizes her voice, which many people find lovely. She has a nice voice, in fact, but I feel she interprets a lot of songs the same way, so somehow a Bob Dylan song about nuclear war and a song about a farm dog end up sounding the same. Baez is not much of a guitar player, and her performances have a pretty static beat, with no reference to the swinging rhythms of the blues or even old-time folk music. Other people like her, however, and the crowd seemed to enjoy her solo performance.

Joan Baez and The Grateful Dead
After Baez finished her solo set, we worked our way back into the crowd in anticipation of the Dead's set. As expected, the Dead's acoustic configuration was being put in it's place, with a grand piano for Brent. There was an extra microphone up front, but I assumed that was in anticipation of a Joan Baez guest appearance--I was hoping for some Dylan songs. So it was quite a surprise when Joan and the Grateful Dead came out together. As a footnote, it was interesting to see Phil Lesh on bass, since John Kahn had played standup bass at the previous two acoustic Dead benefits that year. To my knowledge, the full Grateful Dead had not backed up their opening act since Bo Diddley on March 25, 1972, and this too was extremely rare.

Joan and the Dead launched into "Me And Bobby McGee," with Weir and Baez singing a duet. I recognized that it was a "first" in the sense that there hadn't been (to my knowledge) an acoustic version of the song, but it was a terrible version. Joan Baez was simply not enough of a guitar player to stay with the Dead, and she tethered their rhythmic interplay into a static clunk. Garcia took a tentative, miserable little solo, but I cheerily wrote it off to the usual startup hiccups. We had at least gotten a sort of first-time event, which meant there had been at least some kind of rehearsal. Anything could still happen, and that is what made Grateful Dead concerts exciting. My mind was already starting to sort through possible Bob Dylan songs.

It turned out that Joan Baez had been working on an original album, mostly featuring songs she had written, with the Grateful Dead as her backing band. The bulk of the acoustic set was six original Joan Baez songs. Baez, however, had made her fame as an interpreter of other people's songs, and had written relatively few herself. While I have always agreed with her political views--we Palo Altans stick together that way--didactic politics do not often make for good songs. Now and again someone like Joe Strummer can come along and write a successful "political" song ("turning rebellion into money"), but it is generally a failing enterprise. Suffice to say, Baez's songs were tendentious and clunky, lacking either tuneful hooks or insightful lyrics. You can look up the list yourself (on the archive), but there's a reason the album was shelved, even though the Grateful Dead played on it.

Worse than the dopey lyrics, however, were the simplicity of the songs and Baez's conventional strumming. The Grateful Dead knew how to accompany folk music, but to work their magic they need freedom to roam on the instrumental sections, and neither Baez's songs nor her playing allowed that. Bob Weir was accompanying her on vocals on many songs, and seemed to be enjoying himself, but Garcia and Brent seemed extremely frustrated by the music. Garcia's solos were lifeless and seemed to lead nowhere, and Brent's few stabs at participation seemed to add nothing. With three guitars, a bass and two drummers playing simple music, a grand piano seemed superflous and Brent seemed to know it.

After Baez played three of her own songs, she sang the old chestnut "Barbara Allen," but her painfully simple rhythm left no room for the Dead to accent it. Then Garcia and Weir joined her on the Everly Brothers classic "Bye Bye Love," but Garcia couldn't find a way to get in a good solo. This was followed by two more Baez songs that went nowhere. Garcia and Weir joined in for a version of Buddy Holly's "Oh Boy," yet another first, but it was another dry hole. Baez just doesn't have a feel for anything with a rhythm resembling blues or rock, and with her prominent vocal style, Garcia was left with no place to solo. It could be difficult to ascertain Garcia's mood based on his facial expression, but he seemed very frustrated and wasn't smiling, and this mood was reflected in the unhappy look on the face of the usually animated Brent Mydland.

Baez and the band started up yet another new song, entitled "Lady Di And I," and Garcia abruptly unstrapped his acoustic guitar and walked off on stage left, handing his guitar to a stone faced Steve Parrish as he disappeared behind the amps. No one on stage batted an eyelash or acknowledged Garcia's departure. I can't remember who soloed on "Lady Di And I." Weir and Baez duetted on Paul Simon's "The Boxer," and the group left the stage. At some point it had been made clear that the Grateful Dead were coming back to play an electric set, but Garcia's departure was mystifying. It didn't look planned. Was he ailing, or just frustrated at the unimpressive performance that he had just participated in?

I had seen Jerry quick to walk off stage as a drum solo began, but those often seemed to have as much to do with non-musical needs as anything else. Once I had seen a clearly ailing Garcia walk offstage after "Playing In The Band," only to have the Dead play most of "Passenger" without him (Stockton January 18, 1978), but Garcia and the boys were playing great that night, and Jerry came back strong after his little break.  We'd have to wait and see for the electric set to try and determine the reasons for Garcia's departure from the stage during the Joan Baez set.

The Grateful Dead
Fiesta Hall was a civic building, and while the vibe was relaxed, it was clear that the show was not going to go on forever. Since High Noon, Joan Baez and the acoustic Dead had all played sets, it seemed likely that the Dead would only do one electric set. Of course, single electric sets, while not unheard of, were also a departure from Grateful Dead orthodoxy, so once again there was an air of interesting uncertainty. For me, at least, this uncertainty was tempered with the possibility that Garcia was ailing, since I had never seen him walk off a stage so abruptly.

However, the Dead's crew quickly reconfigured the band for the electric set and the boys came out ready to rock. Matt Kelly was onstage to start the show, and Garcia rocked hard as they went into "New Minglewood Blues." The Dead essentially just played a modified first set for the electric portion of the show. There was no real jamming, and the set ended with a somewhat unique "Cold Rain And Snow">"Around And Around">"One More Saturday Night." Matt Kelly, himself a South Bay native (he grew up with Bob Weir in nearby Atherton), played harmonica on the first two numbers and the last two (he may not have been audible on "Saturday Night").

The grand piano remained on the stage from the acoustic set, so Brent played it on a few numbers. Normally the Dead did not have a grand piano on stage with Brent, so I think this was the only time he ever played a grand during an electric set. While not essential on its own terms, the main pleasure for me of seeing the Dead was watching the variations, so this was yet another detail that set the show apart. After a healthy 9-song, 50 minute electric set, the Grateful Dead left the stage, and the crowd started to cheer for the obligatory encore.

Encore: "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue"
Joan Baez and Bob Weir led the band back onto the stage for the encore. I believe there were the expected thank yous and exhortations from Baez, although I no longer recall specifically. I do specifically recall, however, that when they started up Bob Dylan's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue," neither Garcia nor Brent Mydland was on the stage. Baez sang the song, with some help from Weir on the choruses, but only Weir, Lesh, Kreutzmann and Hart joined her on stage. I read this as confirmation that I wasn't imagining Garcia and Mydland's frustration with the music. Both of them seemed healthy and lively for the Dead's electric set, and didn't even come on stage for the encore.

I was extremely pleased that I had attended the show, but I didn't want to hear Joan Baez with the Grateful Dead again, and based on Jerry's and Brent's actions, it didn't seem like I would ever have to worry about it. How wrong I was.

Joan Baez and The Grateful Dead, Oakland Auditorium Arena, December 30, 1981
A few weeks later, the Dead began their 5-night stand at the Oakland Auditorium, leading up to New Year's Eve. The BGP deal at the time was that various surprise guests would typically join the Dead on New Year's Eve. Although we did not know it at the time, the surprise guest was going to be Joan Baez, and she made an unexpected guest appearance on Wednesday, December 30. The Dead had played a pretty good first set that night, but during the break the stage setup was reconfigured, a definite sign that something was up.

Joan Baez played a brief solo set, and there was a roar of recognition from the crowd. I did not join in, nor did I when the Dead joined her to start the second set,  This time, Brent was nowhere to be seen, and Garcia was playing electric, while Weir had switched to acoustic. Once again, this was a performance configuration unheard for a long time in the Grateful Dead universe (Weir on acoustic, no keyboards, last seen in 1970). Unfortunately, the band launched into a lifeless "Me And Bobby McGee." Garcia stared off into the middle distance, and took a brief, plodding solo that went nowhere. My friend (who shares my first name) flatly asserted "that was Garcia's worst guitar solo ever," and he may have been correct.

The Dec 30 set was mercifully brief, just six songs. "The Boxer" was bracketed by two new Joan Baez songs, and then they played the traditional folk classic "Merry Month Of May." This is a wonderful song, but she did it in her personal, Joan Baez style, leaving Jerry with no room to explore, and he just went through the motions. The set finished with another new Baez song (six songs total). It seemed all too clear that Baez would be a special guest on New Year's Eve.

Indeed she was. On New Year's Eve, after a brief, enjoyable set by The New Riders Of The Purple Sage, in itself historic because it turned out to be the last time they would open for the Dead, the crew set up the Dead's equipment in the Joan Baez configuration. My friend and I weren't prepared to suffer through this again, so we retired up to the bar. The third and final Joan Baez set was the only time I skipped out on a Dead or Garcia set by going to the bar. The music was audible up there--there may have even been video--but we talked about The Who or something while we waited it out (for the record, the set was six songs: "Me And Bobby McGee", "Bye Bye Love", three new songs and the traditional "On The Banks Of The Ohio").

In retrospect, a deal was probably struck where the Grateful Dead would play the Dance For Nuclear Disarmament show in return for a guest appearance by Joan Baez on New Year's Eve. Since the Dead had been recording with her, relations were probably initially good. Once the San Mateo show had taken place, the band was probably committed, and anyway, since Joan and Mickey were dating, the non-confrontational Dead were just going to suffer through it. Sometime in 1982, Joan and Mickey broke up, the album was shelved and everyone more or less forgot about the collaboration. The tapes for Dec 30 and 31 don't appear on the Archive, and it's probably just as well, although if you listen to the final "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" on December 31, Joan sings the song and Garcia and Brent were once again not on stage, presumably both in Limos heading onto Interstate 980 towards the Richmond Bridge. It's hard not to draw a conclusion from that.


A Worthwhile Result
For me, the experience of seeing the Grateful Dead was expressed in a series of remarkable moments. Those moments, sometimes rare and sometimes voluminous, were the product of expectations and assumptions, so often an event that may have been mundane in retrospect were still quite powerful at the time. Retrospective Deadhead scholarship, like this blog, has its place, but that is quite different than the sudden arrival of the unexpected moment that supercharges an event. Although  I felt that the Joan Baez/Grateful Dead collaboration was a true musical low point for the band, it still resulted in one of my best Grateful Dead concert moments.

After the opening set on December 30, I was relieved that the Joan Baez episode was over for the night. Weir quickly handed off his acoustic guitar and strapped on his Ibanez, but Brent was nowhere in sight. He had not been onstage for the Joan Baez set, and perhaps there was no pre-arranged signal for him to know when to return. Nonetheless, Weir counted off "Feel Like A Stranger," and the Dead launched into the second set proper.

Perhaps the band thought Brent was onstage, but in any case they didn't pause. Of course, I had never heard "Feel Like A Stranger" without keyboards. Amazingly, Phil Lesh planted his feet and played a thunderous Jack Casady style bass riff, filling the empty hole created by Brent's absence. The song took on a different, lively sound as a five piece, with Phil effectively acting as a lead instrument. It wasn't that I wanted Brent to leave the band, but suddenly after a very poor, unimaginative set I was hearing the Dead at their most inventive best. The sudden inversion from low to high had an electrifying effect on me, and that justified the whole evening.

As the Dead got near the end of "Stranger" and Brent still hadn't appeared, it crossed my mind that the call-and-response vocal part at the end would have to be dispensed with. When the band got to the outro, and Weir sang "Gonna be a long hot, silky, silky night," Jerry himself stepped up to the mike and sang Brent's part in answer. The crowd erupted, so I wasn't the only person who was thinking this.  Happily, although it wasn't a particularly great night, my clearest memory wasn't the flat set with Joan Baez (and Jerry's "worst guitar solo ever"), but the huge burst of energy from Phil's hot bass run and Garcia's surprise vocal intervention. Brent returned for the next song, and the rest of the set was enjoyable but unspectacular, but I'd already had the moment that made the night worthwhile.