Thursday, August 1, 2013

"Reflections" Reflections (Round Records RX-107)

Jerry Garcias's solo album Reflections, released in February 1976 on Round Records
Jerry Garcia's third solo album Reflections was released on Round Records in February 1976. The album was well received when it was released, and on the rare occasions when I hear any of it, it still sounds pretty good. The album featured four songs recorded by the Grateful Dead and four recorded by what was the Jerry Garcia Band at the time, featuring Nicky Hopkins on piano, along with John Kahn and Ron Tutt. While a few connected people had some tapes in those days, most people didn't, and Jerry Garcia tapes were even rarer, so Reflections gave a contemporary picture of Jerry Garcia's music at the end of 1975 that wasn't available otherwise.

Of course, even at the time I knew that some of the songs had been floating around for a while. I  owned a bootleg Grateful Dead  lp with "Comes A Time" on it, and I knew "They Love Each Other" and "It Must Have Been The Roses" from live shows. Still, the recordings on Reflections were very well done, and they wouldn't have fit on Blues For Allah. There were two new songs as well, namely "Might As Well" and "Mission In The Rain," and they were pretty good. The three cover versions were excellent choices but suitably obscure ("Catfish John," "I'll Take A Melody" and "Tore Up Over You"), and the configuration of the record was typical of solo albums at the time. A few tracks with the parent group, some originals and some hip-but-obtuse covers--Reflections was an excellent specimen of a typical mid-70s solo album by the front man of a major group.

Reflections was released in February, 1976. Nicky Hopkins had already left the Jerry Garcia Band by that time, but the group had continued on with Keith and Donna Godchaux on board. Over the years, the genesis of the album has been described  by Bob Weir, John Kahn and others as a compromise. Kahn, quoted in Blair Jackson's book, said "the album was supposed to be a Jerry Garcia Band album, but it sort of fell apart in the middle, so it ended up being half that and half Grateful Dead" (Jackson, p. 270). Given Nicky Hopkins personal and health problems in the Fall of 1975, it makes a plausible story. And yet, an analysis of the recording information provided on the All Good Things box set leads us to some unexpected conclusions. I think the Grateful Dead were working on another album, and that work got sidetracked into a Jerry Garcia album out of financial necessity.

Reflections Sessions
According to the excellent Deaddisc site, the recording history of Reflections looks like this [my emphasis]
  1. Might As Well (Jerry Garcia / Robert Hunter)
  2. Mission In The Rain (Jerry Garcia / Robert Hunter)
  3. They Love Each Other (Jerry Garcia / Robert Hunter)
  4. I'll Take A Melody (Allen Toussaint)
  5. It Must Have Been The Roses (Robert Hunter)
  6. Tore Up Over You (Hank Ballard)
  7. Catfish John (Bob McDill / Allen Reynolds)
  8. Comes A Time (Jerry Garcia / Robert Hunter) 
(Tracks 1, 3, 5 and 8 recorded with the Grateful Dead, and the other tracks were recorded by the Jerry Garcia Band)
  • Engineer (tracks 1, 3, 5 and 8) - Dan Healy
  • Second engineer (tracks 1, 3, 5 and 8) - Rob Taylor
  • Engineer and mix-down engineer (tracks 2, 4, 6 and 7) - Smiggy
  • Second engineers (tracks 2, 4, 6 and 7) - Willi Deenihan, Joel Edelstein
  • Production assistants - Steve Brown, Kidd, Ramrod, Steve Parrish
  • Cover - Mike Steirnagle
  • Art direction - Ria Lewerke
  • Mastering - George Horn
  • Special thanks to - Elliott Mazer, John Kahn, Zippy
  • Tracks 1, 3, 5 and 8 recorded at Ace's Studio in August and September 1975
  • Tracks 2, 4, 6 and 7 recorded at His Master's Wheels in October and November 1975
  • Mixed at His Master's Wheels
  • Mastered at Columbia Recorders
Kahn's description of the history of the album seems to be contradicted by the session history. The Grateful Dead recorded four songs in Bob Weir's studio (Ace's) in August and September 1975, before the Jerry Garcia Band was even formed. The studio sessions with Nicky Hopkins and Larry Knechtel (on electric piano, mostly) happened later. How did the Jerry Garcia Band sessions "fall apart," if the Jerry Garcia Band did not yet exist?

It's possible that the session listings are incorrect. However, a comment from Garcia seems to confirm the timeline, if somewhat implicitly (quote via Deaddisc):
A lot of the energy from that record [Reflections] is really a continuation of the Blues For Allah groove that we got into. We sort of continued the same energy because we were having a lot of fun doing it.
The work at Ace's on Blues For Allah had lasted from January through June. So it seems like the August sessions were following on the earlier Blues For Allah album. So what was the Garcia album that "fell apart?" Like many Grateful Dead stories, it has been repeated so often that even the principals seem to accept it. Yet the evidence doesn't appear to support it. What could really have been happening?

Some Considerations
Without additional information, I can only speculate on the actual dynamics underlying the recording of Reflections. Of course, speculation is my specialty, but even I am unable to rank any of these factors in order of importance. It is up to the reader to decide which factors may have been the most important. So, in no particular order:

A listing from the Fremont Argus of August 18, 1975, for the "Jerry Garcia Band" at the Great American Music Hall. In fact, Garcia played with the Keith And Donna Band (note Les Paul the next two nights)
Consider: Garcia Had No Band
In July, Garcia had stopped playing with Merl Saunders. This was quite a surprise to Merl, apparently, and John Kahn was deputized to deliver the bad news to his friend. Was there a planned Garcia album with Merl that got stifled? It's interesting to consider that in August 1975, Garcia was playing shows with the Keith and Donna Godchaux band while recording what would become Reflections with the Grateful Dead. It certainly causes me to re-think the timing of Garcia's dismissal of Merl Saunders, because if an album was imminent, I don't know what to make of it. If Garcia was planning a solo album, he must have had a greater urgency to dump Merl than he ever admitted. However, whatever Garcia's frustration with Saunders, I don't think he was thinking about a solo album in the Summer.

Consider: Round Records Had Dire Cash Flow Problems
McNally describes the difficult situation that Grateful Dead Records had fallen into in mid-1975. The band had spent a lot of money on the Wall Of Sound and the Grateful Dead movie, and they had stopped touring. The Dead had borrowed a lot of money from the Bank Of Boston, so Ron Rakow had gotten a cash infusion by signing a distribution deal with United Artists, along with an international distribution deal with Atlantic. However, the Grateful Dead had no income and they owed money all over the place. I have written at some length about how cash flow problems defined the history of Round Records.

Consider: Recording At Ace's Was Cheap
While recording in Bob Weir's garage was not completely free--there were expenses--there were no studio fees and the band did not need to be paid. Recording in a San Francisco studio with professional musicians would have meant laying out cash that the Dead didn't have. So if Round Records needed Jerry Garcia "product" to sell, recording with the Dead at Ace's was the quickest and cheapest way to go. Three of the four songs the band recorded already had established arrangements, so the recordings must have come easily.

The confusing part of my semi-hypothesis is the apparent conclusion: why did Jerry Garcia only record half a solo album with the Grateful Dead? Bob Weir had already recorded a solo album with the Dead as backing musicians, so it wasn't as if the band was ashamed of the concept. Sure, the restless Garcia was always anxious to do something different, but Round Records was a business. If Garcia had recorded half an album with the Dead, why couldn't he finish it up with them? Or do a few songs acoustic, and play with David Grisman or something? There were four original songs, which was plenty for a solo album that could be filled out with hip cover versions. If Round Records needed money, couldn't Garcia just knock out a musically superior collection of songs, and sell a few records? The next year he could focus on something special. Why would Garcia have recorded half an album at Ace's?

The Jerry Garcia Band At His Master's Wheels
The Jerry Garcia Band with Nicky Hopkins debuted at Sophie's in Palo Alto on September 18, 1975. A few shows had been billed at Keystone Berkeley as "Jerry Garcia" or "Jerry Garcia Band" for August, but those shows were played by Garcia and the Keith And Donna band. Whether this was a scheduling problem with Hopkins or had some other motive is uncertain to me. It is still interesting to note that while Garcia was playing the Keystone with Keith and Donna in August and rehearsing Hopkins for the band in September, he was recording with the Dead at Ace's.

His Master's Wheels was in San Francisco at 60 Brady Street, just behind the Fillmore West. It had previously been Alembic Studios, and prior to that it had been Pacific High Recorders. In 1974, Alembic sold the studio to producer Elliot Mazer. It appears that the Jerry Garcia Band went into His Master's Wheels in October 1975 to begin recording Reflections. The exact dates for recording are uncertain, but its easy to bracket the time frame. The JGB had played four dates in September, and they played about six dates in October between October 8 and October 22, when the band began an extended tour of the Eastern seaboard. So the recordings must have been done in the first half of October, in between the various shows in the Bay Area.

The Eastern tour ended November 1 in Washington, DC. The JGB began a Midwestern tour in Chicago on November 21, so it seems clear that the second sessions were in the first three weeks of November, interrupted by a few Keystone Berkeley shows. Outtakes from circulating tapes and the All Good Things box set show the Jerry Garcia Band trying out many of the rock songs associated with him, even if some of them hadn't been played in a few years, like "You Win Again" and "Hey Bo Diddley." Yet on some of the outtake tracks, the grand piano isn't played by Nicky Hopkins but by Los Angeles studio legend Larry Knechtel (check out Knechtel's discography).

Knechtel plays some electric piano in support of Hopkins on Reflections, possibly overdubbed to give more texture to the tracks. However, although participants seem reluctant to disclose details, it appears that Hopkins was not available for some or all of the November sessions, and Knechtel had to fill in. There's even a whiff that Knechtel did some overdubbing of Hopkins' piano parts. Hopkins was a studio legend, and rightly so, and thus it would have seemed that the environment would have brought out the best in him, but apparently the opposite was the case. Hopkins was a very nice man, so no one liked speaking ill of him, but he had serious health problems separate from his preference for drugs and drinking, and he seems to have simply failed to answer the bell.

Knechtel was a fine player, but obviously the opportunity to take advantage of Hopkins' live experience with Garcia was lost. Apparently, when Blair Jackson asked Knechtel about playing with Garcia, Knechtel didn't recall it. Knechtel had played with everybody, so I wouldn't read too much into that, but it does suggest that Knechtel's role was after the fact, cleaning up what Hopkins had muffed, possibly with just John Kahn in the studio.

Presumably, if Hopkins' health prevented his appearance, or if he was unable to deliver the goods in the studio, Garcia must have needed to fall back to a Plan B. Whatever exactly Rakow had promised United Artists, they plainly had to release something. Thus Garcia must have taken the four tracks with the Dead and the best four tracks with Hopkins, and made a pretty good album out of them. It looks like a few overdubs were done near the end of the process, with harmony vocals from Weir and Donna Godchaux, and a little percussion from Hart, as well as possible overdubs by Knechtel. Reflections was released in February 1976, and the Kingfish album was released in March, so UA got their Garcia and Weir albums.

What Was Plan A?
In retrospect, Kahn's overview of Reflections makes sense: "the album was supposed to be a Jerry Garcia Band album, but it sort of fell apart in the middle, so it ended up being half that and half Grateful Dead." Garcia, Kahn and Tutt seem to have gotten Nicky Hopkins in order to form the Jerry Garcia Band, and they had plans to make a Jerry Garcia solo album at His Master's Wheels. Garcia knew Hopkins from his Quicksilver Messenger Service days, and he was a living legend--The Kinks had written a song about Hopkins called "Session Man" 9 years earlier--so it seemed like a good plan. Yet Hopkins let them down, due to some combination of circumstances. As a result, 4 tracks were salvaged from those sessions, and four tracks from Grateful Dead sessions were used as well.

Yet why had the Grateful Dead been recording at Ace's in August and September? Garcia had a plan in place for his own solo album, so why were the Dead recording Garcia/Hunter songs? I think the Grateful Dead were actually beginning work on their next album, and the tracks got borrowed by Garcia. Although Rakow's words always have to be taken with a grain of salt, he told McNally that UA had been promised 4 Grateful Dead albums along with solo albums by Garcia and Weir. The band had the '74 Winterland shows in the can, although it would later turn out that those tapes were in poor shape.  

Blues For Allah would have been the first UA album, and the Winterland tapes would have accounted for two more (according to the contractual orthodoxy of the time, double albums could count as two albums). Weir was already working with Kingfish, and they had some original material. Garcia and Kahn had plans for the Jerry Garcia Band. That would still leave one album unaccounted for.

I think the August and September 1975 sessions at Ace's were meant for a forthcoming Grateful Dead album. "Might As Well" was a new song, but the other three had never been released by the Dead. Obviously, we'll never know what else might have been recorded had they continued. The increasing stress of record company business had made the Dead's own situation more precarious. According to Rakow, he threatened UA with bankrupting the Grateful Dead in order to get out of the contract if they did not receive more money. Whether or not Rakow actually voiced that threat to UA--he certainly could have--it was a sign of desperation. By December of 1975, when Garcia had returned from touring with Hopkins, Garcia would have needed to take over the songs for his own album, and any possible plans for a subsequent album were pushed aside.

update
Scholar and regular Commenter Light Into Ashes has a relevant quote from Garcia at the time, and an intriguing counter-narrative
Garcia had a bit more to say about the Dead sessions that ended up on Reflections. "It was a continuation of what we were doing with Blues for Allah. We were having fun in the studio is what it boils down to, and that's pretty rare for us. The energy was there, and I thought, 'I've got a solo album coming up. Let's cut these tracks with the Grateful Dead. I've already taught them the tunes.'" (Jackson p.271)

So by Garcia's account, the Dead-recorded tunes were meant for his next solo album all along. What Garcia doesn't mention is that he didn't have his own band when they started recording in August/September. So using the Dead would have been a necessary step, if he wanted to start recording right away. 
But the Nicky Hopkins JGB formed in mid-September - it seems no coincidence that the Dead stopped recording then, and the JGB sessions picked up where they left off almost immediately, in October.

I am not certain why the JGB had to head to His Master's Wheels when the much cheaper Ace's was available - except, perhaps it wasn't. Weir & Kingfish rehearsed & recorded their album at Ace's, probably around the same time (this should be checked), so the JGB would have had to find another studio.

There's also the unspoken issue that the Dead had already spent half the year in the studio recording Blues for Allah. As "fun" as Garcia says the sessions were - this was a guy who habitually spent months in the studio working on albums - I suspect that some of the other Dead members were probably getting burned-out by September and were happy to relinquish the sessions to the new JGB.

I would take Garcia's word that he was planning another solo album in mid-'75, right after finishing Allah. Weir would probably have been able to scrape up enough songs for half a Dead album, but I doubt anyone expected the Dead to record two albums in a row. Rather, Rakow would likely have been nudging Garcia for another solo album for Round, since a Garcia album would do well.
So on one hand, perhaps Garcia intended a solo album all along, which makes the timing of his firing of Merl Saunders even more significant. Of course, Garcia could have been making up a plausible story as to why Reflections was recorded the way it was. One point I would make about late 1975 would be to remember that the Dead weren't touring that year--why wouldn't they record a second album in a year? What else were they going to do? In any case, LIA's comments give us yet another angle to consider.

Maybe I'm overreaching by constructing a narrative of a lost Grateful Dead album from some fragmentary, after-the-fact interviews. But if my hypothesis is incorrect, what's the alternative explanation? The timeline doesn't particularly make sense. Now, it's possible that initially Round Records' finances were so dire that Garcia thought he would have to make his whole solo album with the Dead, and discovered he had a budget halfway through. Even so, it makes for a strange series of events that has been glossed over with an easy-to-digest explanation. For now, until someone can peel off another layer of the onion, I'm going to say that there were plans afoot for another studio Grateful Dead album in the Fall of 1975, and they slipped away with Nicky Hopkins' health and a hefty debt owed to the Bank Of Boston. 

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Grateful Dead Performances At Race Tracks 1969-88


The poster for the New Orleans Pop Festival, on August 31-September 1 1969, held at the Baton Rouge Speedway in Prairieville, LA
The Grateful Dead were pioneers in moving rock concerts into new spaces. Rock concerts in the 1960s moved beyond buildings formally designated for performance into wide-open spaces. The Grateful Dead were at the forefront, as the first of the major Fillmore bands to start playing regularly for free in public parks in order to promote their music. When multi-act, multi-day rock shows moved beyond County Fairgrounds to empty farms, the Grateful Dead were at the major early events.

However, the immediate and vast popularity of rock festivals posed a very specific land-use problem. Places like Indian Reservations and farms were not really viable for major, multi-day events, since too many things could go wrong. Equally importantly, despite or because of the increasing crowds, it was all but inevitable that rock festivals would become "free concerts." Liberating as this may have seemed at the time, it insured that the events could not make enough money to provide a safe, repeatable event for bands, patrons and host communities. The financial opportunities of rock festivals were huge, however, and since nothing says "rock and roll" like "land use," over the years there was a concerted effort in the concert industry to find spaces that could successfully and profitably host occasional, loud outdoor events with giant crowds.

One of the intriguing solutions for hosting giant rock festivals was to use facilities designed for auto racing. Race tracks were usually somewhat removed from urban areas while still being near enough to civilization to attract a crowd. Auto races themselves were noisy, and major race events tended to occur just a few times a year and last an entire weekend, just like a rock festival. Since race tracks were permanent facilities, they generally had fences, bathrooms, water, power and parking, so in many ways they would seem like ideal venues for huge rock events. Indeed, some of the major rock events of the 1970s were held at race tracks, and the Grateful Dead's performances at race tracks from 1969 to 1988 offer a useful snapshot of the evolving rock concert market.

This post will review all of the Grateful Dead's scheduled performances at permanent facilities designed for auto racing. The most notorious of these events, the December 6, 1969 show at Altamont Speedway in Livermore, CA, was probably instrumental in insuring that race track operators were leery of rock concerts. Ironically enough, the concert at Watkins Glen Grand Prix Course in New York on July 28, 1973, showed how well race tracks could work. However, the economic evolution of the rock concert and auto racing industries veered in opposite directions, and the possibilities of rock concerts at race tracks was replaced by baseball stadiums and then custom built facilities like Shoreline Amphitheatre.

Jim Hall's legendary 1970 Chaparral 2J, the "Sucker Car," driven by English rallying legend Vic ("Quick Vic") Elford
A Thumbnail History Of American Auto Racing After World War 2
In order to properly frame the different facilities that the Grateful Dead played, I will provide a brief history of the different types of Postwar auto racing. Automotively knowledgeable readers will have to forgive my simplistic categories. Generally speaking, while auto racing had been popular since the invention of the automobile, horse racing had been hugely popular in cities and county fairs throughout the United States, long before cars were invented. However, after WW2, when the GIs returned and economy boomed, America moved from its rural roots to a more urban and suburban universe, and the automobile became a more important part of everyone's life. A national boom in the popularity of auto racing corresponded with a slow decline in the popularity of horse racing.

There were three major forms of auto racing in the United States. One was sports car racing, which emphasized European or European-inspired cars driving on something resembling real roads. Initially sports car races were held on closed public roads, but by the mid-50s the cars had become too fast, and sports car races tended to move to custom-built road racing facilities. Sports car racing was most popular on the East and West coasts. California and the New York region led the way, with famous tracks like Riverside (in Southern California) and Bridgehampton (in Long Island).

A second popular form was drag racing. Drag racing tended to be more urban and suburban, since the facilities were smaller and fit more easily into the landscape. Needless to say, drag racing evolved from illicit automotive fun, usually at night on empty roads, into a serious competitive sport. Drag racing was hugely popular nationwide, and was culturally influential, but the tracks and events tended to more local or regional. The best known drag racers barnstormed across the country in local meets, with some sorts of similarities to touring rock bands. As a more urban phenomenon, drag racing had both a more working-class audience and was less exclusively white.

The third popular form of auto racing was oval track racing. Initially these speedways, as they were called, were less than a mile long--sometimes only a 1/4 mile--and often not even paved. The hard clay of the Midwest and the South was particularly conducive to this kind of auto racing. Speedways proliferated throughout the country, but oval tack racing was biggest in the Midwest and South. In the Midwest, with the inspiration of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, emphasized custom-built specials. The South, with its tradition of moonshining and bootlegging, emphasized modified versions of production cars. NASCAR (The National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing) was financed in 1947 by many local bootleggers, and some of the principal early drivers had been well-schooled in building and driving "stock" looking cars that were anything but.

To some extent, all types of auto racing were prevalent all over the country, particularly in heavily populated regions like California and the industrial Midwest. However, the basic distinction of the three types of auto racing had some association with their different regions. Sports Car racing was the province of the coasts, drag racing was an urban and suburban pastime, and oval track racing was king in the Midwest and South, particularly in more rural counties. Just as the 1960s were a time in music when legends were born and everything seemed possible, the 60s was just as much a time of excitement and wonder in all forms of auto racing as well.

The increasing popularity of auto racing in America, in all of its forms, meant that from the end of the World War 2 to the birth of the Grateful Dead, numerous race tracks had been built up around America. When rock concerts got too large for indoor arenas, race tracks seemed to provide an answer. Rock concerts were loud, not always popular with the community, and the bands roamed from place to place. In that respect, race tracks seemed to provide pre-existing spaces that could be used for large scale concerts. It was no surprise that the rock festival industry came to that conclusion, too.

Lots of great bands played the Labor Day New Orleans Pop Festival, and there was a Custom Bike show and a "Heavy Fireworks Display."
September 1, 1969 Baton Rouge Speedway, Prairieville, LA New Orleans Pop Festival
The Summer of 1969 was the Summer of rock festivals. Woodstock is the most famous, of course, but from May to December, there were huge outdoor festivals all over the United States and Canada. Many if not most North American rock fans were in range of a major outdoor festival sometime that year, even if their parents would not let them go to it. To name just a few events, these included The Big Rock Pow-Wow in Florida (May 23-25), Sky River 2 Festival (outside of Seattle, July 25-27), The Atlantic City Pop Festival (August 1-3) and of course Woodstock itself (August 15-17). All of these events featured a slew of major bands. All of them had various successes and failures, but in general they all struggled with accommodating giant crowds in a comfortable manner while still retaining economic viability. Woodstock, for example, was a financial disaster, only rescued by the extraordinarily popular film.

The festival promoters were learning as they went, however. Some of the most successful rock festivals occurred at the end of the summer. The Atlanta International Pop Festival was held on the weekend of July 4 (July 4-6), at the Atlanta International Speedway. Promoter Alex Cooley held a similar event two months later in Texas, on Labor Day weekend (August 30-September 1). The Texas event was held in Lewisville, TX, outside of Dallas, at the Dallas Motor Speedway. The Atlanta International Speedway, in Hampton, GA was built in 1960 as a 1.5 mile Superspeedway and remains an active NASCAR track today. The Dallas Motor Speedway was mainly a dragstrip, but it had a 1/2 mile oval and a 2.5 mile road course as well. The Texas facility ran into financial trouble immediately and closed in 1973.

The 1969 Texas and Atlanta events both had crowds of 100,000+, and both ran safely and on schedule. Other than the melting Southern heat, there were no real problems, and the events are fondly remembered by fans. The Atlanta event was profitable, and the indications are that the Texas event was too, or at least could have been. These two events seemed to be the first major rock events that suggested that auto racing tracks were a good place to hold a big rock concert. One of the biggest problems at both events, however, was that the surrounding communities were not comfortable with the "hippie invasion," even if every convenience store, motel and gas station were sold out for miles around. The cultural gap between hippie rock fans and the rural South was still very large in 1969.

That same Labor Day weekend of 1969, the Grateful Dead played their first rock festival at a racetrack. The New Orleans rock festival was held at a tiny oval track outside of Baton Rouge. Prairieville, LA is actually 60 miles West of New Orleans, most of the way to Baton Rouge (which is another 26 miles to the Northwest of Prairieville). Besides lots of great bands, like Santana, Janis Joplin and Canned Heat, the poster advertised a "Custom Bike Show," a whiff of the motorsports aura. The festival was fairly successful, but the tiny facility was no superspeedway. It had only been built around 1966, under dubious circumstances perhaps unique to Louisiana.

This 1971 aerial photo of the Baton Rouge Speedway in Prairieville, LA, seems to be the only photograph of the site
A forum on old racing cars and tracks has uncovered what little information there is about the Baton Rouge Speedway in Prairieville (as opposed to the current Baton Rouge Speedway, in a different location):
There is very little info on this track out there, same with pictures.
It was known as Baton Rouge Int'l Speedway, and also Pelican Int'l Speedway.
You picture of the track is taken looking south; the track ran east/west, and the pit area was on the south side. The track was advertised as a 5/8ths mile, but in reality was almost 3/4 mile through the racing groove.

The track has a very checkered history; it was originally built by a man named Ed Grady; he was a teamsters boss. The track is rumored to have been built by the Louisiana Highway Department using taxpayer-bought material, under orders of the LA governor at that time. Not saying it happened that way, but it was never denied...
The governor had a kid who wanted to race, and they had the track built to give him a place to race. The kid was sponsored in part by the LA Tourism Bureau. Funny that, he hardly ever left LA to race, spent the tourism dollars in his his home state. And he could'nt drive a tricycle down a sidewalk, thankfully, he didn't last long.The governor, whose name I can't recall, and the kid both later did time; nothing unusual down there.
The track initially ran friday nights so as not to compete with Houston, Jackson and Mobile, all half mile tracks within 3-4 hours. The friday was an issue, as the traffic from the east around slidell hampered getting to the place. Track promotion was itself it's own nightmare story. I only got there once, in 1979; last time it ran.
It was originally built about 1966, and was off and on until 1978. The 79 race was the only event that year, twin 50 lap races won by Georgia Hotshoe Ronnie Sanders. The first event raced at the track was won by David Pearson.
The location is long gone, replaced by housing. If you go on Bing Maps, the location is easy to find. If you follow Hwy 73, aka Old Jefferson Highway southeast out of Baton Rouge, look for where it intersects Hwy 42, just North of Prarieville. You will actually be in Oak Grove. Just south of the intersection of 42/73, you will find Charleston Road running east. That was the track entrance. On your original pic, the road that makes a curve south of the track is the now Charleston road. Just North of Charleston is a road called Race Track road; that runs through the middle of the track footprint. 
As Labor Day weekend ended in 1969, however, it did seem like racetracks made pretty good facilities for rock festivals. Atlanta had been a big success, Texas had worked and New Orleans hadn't failed. Most people perceived Woodstock as a sort of lucky break--the festival got completely out of hand, but it all worked out anyway. The next to last rock festival of 1969 was a three day event in Palm Beach, Florida, at a sports car track and dragstrip (now the Palm Beach International Raceway). The November 28-30, 1969 Palm Beach International Pop Festival was headlined by no less than the Rolling Stones. So since the Rolling Stones were planning to headline a huge, free outdoor concert in San Francisco the very next week, doing it at a racetrack seemed like a pretty good idea.

December 6, 1969 Sears Point International Raceway, Sonoma, CA Rolling Stones/Grateful Dead/others (canceled)
The restored Penske Racing Chevy Camaro with which Mark Donohue won the inaugural race at Sears Point, a round of the Trans-Am championship on September 21, 1969 (photo: Meccas Of Speed)
Sports car racing was hugely popular worldwide in the 1960s, and Northern California was prime sports car country. Road racing was hugely popular as well, and by a peculiar accident the best road track in Northern California was rarely available. Laguna Seca Raceway in Monterey was a beautiful, exciting track in a resort area, but unfortunately it was located on the grounds of Fort Ord, a U.S. Army base. Thus Laguna Seca was only available for a limited number of events. The Sports Car Club Of America's SF Region had given up on using temporary facilities--I saw the last race in the Candlestick Park parking lot in 1965, when the cars were simply too fast and two drivers died--so they looked to create their own custom built race track.

Sears Point International Raceway in Sonoma was in a nature preserve, far from any housing, yet it was still only an hour from San Francisco and the East Bay. The exciting, twisty course had 11 turns and many elevation changes, and it first opened in late 1968. The track had some financial problems, and by mid-1969 it was owned by Filmways, a movie studio. Although the race track was finished, the facility had not been fully built out by 1969. Nonetheless, the first major professional race was held there on September 21, 1969. At the time, the SCCA Trans-Am series had a half-dozen factory teams and numerous famous drivers, like Parnelli Jones, Dan Gurney and race winner Mark Donohue. I attended the race, and even I could tell that the facility was unfinished, but it was a beautiful setting with great sightlines.

Although this photo is from a motorcycle race in 1985, it gives a pretty good idea of the panoramic vistas of Sears Point that made it appealing to Sam Cutler as a concert site. The "natural bowl" that Cutler refers to was probably off to the right of the photo (I think this is above Turn 6), but you can still get a feel for the site
Sam Cutler was no race fan, particularly, but he had been intimately involved in the Rolling Stones' search for a site for their promised free concert in the Bay Area on December 6. In his book You Can't Always Get What You Want (ECW Press, 2010), Cutler describes turning down various unacceptable sites offered by people who did not fathom the practical matters of over 100,000 people crammed into one space. Yet Cutler was suitably impressed with Sears Point as a prospective concert venue. He said (p.127)
[We] borrowed a car and [went] to see the site at Sears Point. We drove North [from Marin] for about half an hour, through rolling hills, and arrived at an isolated site. It seemed ideal. It had good access to the main north-south highway [CA37] and enough parking spaces for 100,000 cars. To one side of the racetrack there was a huge natural amphitheater. I walked around its perimeter to a point on its ridge where a stage could be erected. 
I could see for half a mile, in an arc of 180 degrees. It was a perfect spot for a concert
Concert preparations got underway at Sears Point, a stage was constructed and a giant sound system was put together. As we all know, however, negotiations stalled at the last minute and the concert was moved to the tiny Altamont Speedway. The name "Altamont" has been synonymous with everything wrong with outdoor rock festivals ever since. Its worth thinking, however, how a successful concert at Sears Point might have changed not only the rock concert landscape but the auto racing business as well.

What kept the Rolling Stones from playing Sears Point was the film rights. Sears Point Raceway was owned by Filmways, probably as a tax shelter, and while they could have cared less about racing,  film rights to an historic rock concert was something the corporation understood. They pushed too hard, however, and the stage and sound system were moved to Altamont in about 24 hours. Yet what if the concert had come off? Sears Point Raceway could handle the cars, and the sightlines were great. If people had had a relatively good time, Sears Point could have remade itself as a concert venue. Cutler was right--it was a perfect concert venue, and perfectly located. Even today, the same people who still see the Rolling Stones in California would be very happy to do it in Sonoma.

Yet Altamont was a disaster. The auto racing industry, which had to have quietly noticed the successes at Atlanta and Dallas, would have wanted nothing to do with rock after Altamont. Compared to the South, the Bay Area was a lot more hippie friendly, and Sears Point could have been Shoreline Amphitheater twenty years before its time. Nor would it have interfered with Sears Point's history and potential as a race track. It could still be holding the annual NASCAR road race and all its other events, while sparing a few weekends for some big outdoor rock shows.

Filmways Corporation ran into serious financial difficulties in 1970, and Sears Point Raceway remained closed until 1973. There were not even any road races at Sears Point, much less rock concerts, until then. In any case, thanks to Altamont, outdoor rock concerts at a race track would be haunted by the specter of Altamont until the 1980s. Everyone was the worse for it. I saw a great Trans-Am race on a glorious day at Sears Point in 1981 (George Follmer spun out in the opening lap, and came from last to third by the end). If only the Grateful Dead had played when the race was over...but a failed negotiation over film rights erased that possibility.

December 6, 1969 Altamont Speedway, Livermore, CA Rolling Stones/Grateful Dead/others (Grateful Dead did not play)
Donnie Epperson and Gary Allbritian racing at Altamont Speedway sometime in the 1970s

The unfortunate story of the Rolling Stones concert at Altamont Speedway on December 6, 1969, has been told so many times, I won't re-tell it here. Suffice to say, the Altamont pass was a windy, desolate area in a mountain range at the Eastern edge of Alameda County. The little speedway had no neighbors to bother, with the nearest residents in the then-tiny town of Tracy, but the truth was the tiny oval had never been a success. The track had opened in 1966, but it was really too far for fans and drivers who wanted to enjoy the kind of casual, fun minor league racing that thrived on tiny half-mile ovals.

The owner of Altamont Speedway offered up the track in the hopes of providing some publicity for the struggling little track. He got the publicity all right, but the wrong kind. After the December concert, Altamont Speedway remained closed until 1973. It re-opened various times and was mostly operative, but never successful, and it finally closed for good in 2008. Tiny Altamont, which should never have hosted a major rock concert in the first place, much less a giant free event by the Rolling Stones, must have made race track operators shudder at the thought of a rock concert. If the Stones had played Sears Point, things might have been very different.

[update 20230613]: Thanks to Episode 7, Series 7 of the "Good Ol' Grateful Deadcast", produced by the stellar team of Jesse Jarnow and Rich Mahan, we know that the Iowa State Fair Grandstand was a racetrack as well as a concert venue. The Grateful Dead played the Grandstand on May 13, 1973 and June 16, 1974. The half-mile dirt track had first hosted auto races as early as 1907. While the racing was regional, big stars such as Bobby Allison had raced there. There were regular country concerts, and later rock concerts, every July, starting in 1970.

The Grateful Dead sound system was far more advanced than anything used for the country events, and the Dead crowds were much bigger than any of the previous country shows, so the Dead were definitely expanding the venue horizons. Per the Deadcast, while the Grateful Dead played Sunday, May 13, 1973, the stage could not be constructed until the stock car races were completed Saturday night. The entire Grateful Dead and crew apparently enjoyed the races from the stands.

July 28, 1973 Watkins Glen Grand Prix Racecourse, Watkins Glen, NY Allman Brothers Band/Grateful Dead/The Band

The great Ronnie Peterson in the pits at Watkins Glen at the US Grand Prix on October 7, 1973. Peterson would go on to win the race in his Lotus 72-Cosworth, just edging out James Hunt (photo source: Sports Car Digest)
The Allman Brothers/Grateful Dead/Band concert at Watkins Glen Grand Prix Racecourse in upstate New York on July 28, 1973 was the largest single day rock concert up until that time. The crowd was estimated at 600,000. It is generally believed to be the largest rock concert ever, although I don't know exactly how that would be calculated. In any case, it was a major event, fondly remembered by everybody who went, profitable enough for the promoters and the bands and generally went off without serious incident.

Indeed, the only problem was that the show was so well attended that the huge crowd overwhelmed the roads and made everyone nervous about what would have happened if something had gone wrong, so once again any plans for future rock concerts at the Glen or similar facilities were shot down.  Yet the logistical success of the Watkins Glen show was one of the key reasons that I think a 1969 Rolling Stones concert at Sears Point might have come off fairly well. Although the Glen was somewhat larger than Sears Point, with a longer 3.2 mile layout rather than the tighter configuration at Sears Point, the basic idea of the tracks were the same. The tracks follow the elevation changes of the sites, and so there were natural sight lines for a large number of people, along with access, water, power and parking.

Watkins Glen, NY, about five hours Northwest of Manhattan, had been one of the centers of postwar East Coast road racing. There had been races as early as 1948 using closed public roads, but increasing speeds made this unsafe. The permanent course was built in 1956. From 1961 to 1980, "The Glen" was home to the Formula One United States Grand Prix, the most prestigious road racing event on the US racing calendar. The Glen also hosted a famous international sports car event, the Six Hours Of Watkins Glen, and races in all the important series, such as Can-Am, Trans-Am and so on.

Ironically enough, if the Grateful Dead had just played Watkins Glen by themselves, or with the New Riders and the Sons instead of the Allmans and The Band, they would have drawn about 50,000 people. That sounds like a lot, but Watkins Glen could have absorbed that crowd easily, and then it could have been an annual event. Yet the spectacular success of the Watkins Glen Grand Prix course insured that it would not be used as a concert venue again. Once again, race track operators must have taken note and decided that they did not want several hundred thousand people at their facilities, even if things went well. The Glen proved Sam Cutler right, more or less, but it still didn't start a trend. Watkins Glen has continued to thrive as a track, particularly for its annual NASCAR race, but save for a single 2011 Phish concert, rock bands have not been seen there.

August 24, 1975 Trenton Speedway, Hamilton, NJ Aerosmith/Poco/Kingfish/Slade/others
Bobby Unser takes the checkered flag at an Indycar race at Trenton Speedway in 1966
Just an hour or so from Manhattan was the Trenton Speedway, actually located in Hamilton, NJ, just outside of Trenton. The 1-mile oval was part of the New Jersey State Fairgrounds. There had been racing at the Fairgrounds from 1912-1941, and a new one mile dirt oval was built in 1946. The track was paved in 1957. In 1968, the track was expanded to a 1.5 mile "Kidney Bean" oval. The race track was active until 1979. Although an old, unassuming facility, it was the biggest oval track near New York city, so Trenton Speedway hosted major races on the Indy Car and NASCAR circuits for much of its postwar history. Richard Petty won The Northern 300 three times there (in 1967, 70 and 71), and AJ Foyt won Indy Car races twelve times at Trenton, racing against Mario Andretti, the Unser brothers and all the other great Indy car racers of the era.

There were a few rock concerts held at the Trenton Speedway in the early 70s. A show headlined by the Allman Brothers in 1973 was overwhelmed by people trying to get in for free, and the Fairgounds had been very uneasy about a repeat episode. Kingfish's first Eastern appearance was at the next attempt at a show at Trenton Speedway, on August 24, 1975 as they opened for Aerosmith. Things went OK, apparently, but not so OK that I am aware of another concert there.

The fate of Trenton Speedway was the fate of many popular post war racetracks. While many racetracks became too unsafe as cars continued to get faster, even the fast, successful tracks were no match for suburbanization. Hamilton, NJ was once fairly far out in "the sticks," but no more. Now Hamilton is considered well with commuting range of Manhattan and Philadelphia, and it is a well-to-do community.

Racetracks are noisy, and they are never popular when they are encroached on by new housing. The New Jersey State Fairgounds, and Trenton Speedway, are now a UPS Shipping Facility, a housing development called Hamilton Lakes, and a museum called Grounds For Sculpture. Grounds For Sculpture is a custom designed outdoor facility for housing sculptures, financed by the Johnson And Johnson pharmaceutical fortune. The evolution from noisy racecars to a quiet museum epitomizes the transition of postwar suburban communities throughout America.

Pictures from the 1977 drag racing season at Raceway Park in Englishtown, with highly modified "Funny Cars"
September 3, 1977 Raceway Park, Englishtown, NJ Grateful Dead/Marshal Tucker Band/NRPS
The Grateful Dead's concert at Raceway Park in Englishtown, NJ on September 3, 1977, was one of their most legendary events. It was a form of coming out party on the East Coast, the first large East Coast concert for the band after Terrapin Station was released. It was labor day weekend, and every Deadhead on the Eastern Seaboard seems to have not only gone to the show, but brought their brother, their girlfriend and their roommate, too. The crowd was estimated at well over 100,000, so the show was a huge success for promoter John Scher, cementing his solid reputation with the band.

Raceway Park had been founded in 1965, and it was primarily a dragstrip. New Jersey had been a manufacturing area for much of the first half of the 20th century, since it was near to seaports, New York and Philadelphia. As such, there had been various auto factories in New Jersey over the years, so there was a strong gearhead tradition throughout the state. In order for drag racing to succeed, it needed a local fanbase who likes popping the hood and tinkering with the engine, and New Jersey had a huge number of those people. When Bruce Springsteen wrote, "some guys get home from work and wash up/And go racing in the streets," he wasn't imagining it, as any late night trip on US9 will tell you.

Unlike many dragstrips, however, due to its proximity to New York and Philadelphia, Raceway Park was equipped for a much larger crowd than a local place. In its current configuration, Raceway Park can hold 85,000 people in the stands. I don't know if that was the configuration for the Grateful Dead concert, but at least its an indicator of the size of the venue. Originally built on 330 acres, by now it has expanded to over 500 acres, so there was plenty of room both to park all the cars and absorb all the people.

Despite the success of the Englishtown show, however, the Grateful Dead never returned, nor am I aware of another major concert at Raceway Park. Many racetracks, closed in the mid-70s, either victims of the recession or unable to afford safety improvements for ever-faster cars, but Englishtown has continued to thrive and expand ever since, and it is still thriving today. 

However, for those racetracks that made it through the late 70s, one result has been that they are often in use for every weekend, much of the year. Since there are fewer racetracks, and almost no temporary facilities (like old Air Force bases), those that remain are heavily used. New Jersey itself has become considerably more prosperous, so a track like Englishtown is appeals not only to race fans but to well-to-do hobbyists who need to a place to exercise their expensive toys or let their kids race go-karts. I doubt Englishtown has had a free Labor Day since 1977, even if the Grateful Dead or anyone else had been available. Rock concerts never became a regular part of racetrack scheduling, so there was never really any room for them.

Part of the 300,00+ PAID attendance at Cal Jam II, Ontario Motor Speedway, March 18, 1978
California Jam and Cal Jam II at the Ontario Motor Speedway, Ontario, CA  
California Jam
April 6, 1974 Ontario Motor Speedway, Ontario, CA Emerson, Lake & Palmer/Deep Purple/Black Sabbath/Black Oak Arkansas/Seals & Crofts/The Eagles/Earth, Wind & Fire/Rare Earth
Cal Jam II
March 18, 1978 Ontario Motor Speedway, Ontario, CA Aerosmith/Foreigner/Santana/Dave Mason/Ted Nugent/Heart/Bob Welch with Stevie Nicks/Mahogany Rush/Rubicon
The Grateful Dead played at neither of the two rock concerts held at the Ontario Motor Speedway, 40 miles East of Los Angeles. While both shows featured the typical 70s touring bands that played baseball stadiums during that era, the two Ontario Speedway shows stand out not for the 300,000 plus who attended both events. Rather, they stand out for having the highest paid attendance of any rock concerts ever, numbers of great interests to promoters and band managers. The two Cal Jam events prove that the unique architecture of race tracks could easily be repurposed to high capacity rock concerts.

[update: Commenter runonguinness points out that a Grateful Dead/Allman Brothers show was scheduled for Ontario Motor Speedway on May 27, 1973:
The Dead almost played Ontario Motor Speedway on 1973-05-27 with the Allmans and Waylon Jennings. Randy Tuten produced a poster for Bill Graham based on David Byrd's Nassau "He's Truckin' She's Posin'", it's on his website rtuten.com

http://preview.tinyurl.com/oycdn6y

It was also advertised in Deadhead's newsletter 9 for April 1973 but as the next day, 1973-05-28 with Waylon and NRPS.
So the Grateful Dead could have had Watkins Glen at Ontario, but it was yet another woulda-coulda in this counter-history]

A Correspondent sends the long lost handbill of what might have been
A long lost handbill for an almost-happened Dead/Allmans show at Ontario Motor Speedway, East of Los Angeles proper. This would have been two months prior to Watkins Glen, and everyone would have paid...


and for those of you who have forgotten your long ago LA geography

Here's the back of the Ontario May 27 '73 handbill


At the same time, the increasing suburbanization of America meant that land that had once been far enough from any city for a noisy racetrack was now extremely valuable to real estate developers. The Ontario Motor Speedway, in Southern California, had opened in 1970 in Ontario , as a facility for Indy Cars, NASCAR and road racing. It was fairly successful as a racing venue, though not spectacularly so. Yet the land underneath the track was too valuable, and the bonds were foreclosed on by the Chevron Land Corporation. The track was torn down in 1980, and to be replaced by a Hilton Hotel and a shopping mall (you can still see traces of Turn 3, however). Ontario Speedway could have been a prime venue for major rock concerts in Southern California, but instead it is now a mall  an office park and a hockey arena.

Jun 30, 1979 Portland International Raceway, Portland, OR Grateful Dead/McGuinn, Clark and Hillman/David Bromberg Band

Gianpiero Moretti's Porsche 935 Turbo at the Portland 100 IMSA GT race on May 8, 1979 (photo: Brent Martin from RacingSportsCars)
Automobiles represent prosperity, and auto racing rarely thrives when the economy is weak. Thus racing in the United States was in a holding pattern for much of the late 70s and early 80s. From the point of view of land-use, however, road racing was hit particularly hard. For various reasons, sports car racing had been extremely popular throughout the world in the 1960s, heavily supported by manufacturers in a variety of series. In the 1970s, that interest shifted somewhat to Formula One, which was not popular in the United States, and to Indianapolis-style cars ("Indy Cars") and NASCAR, both of which favored oval tracks. Road racing venues suffered as a result.

Many fine road racing venues faded away in the 70s and 80s, often swallowed up by eager housing developers. Those tracks that survived often had some peculiar reason that they were preserved and could not be developed. One such track was Portland International Raceway, on the outskirts of Portland, OR. The history of Portland International Raceway was even intimately tied up with the history of the Grateful Dead.

During World War 2, Kaiser Industries had huge shipyards on both sides of the Columbia River, in Portland, OR and Vancouver, WA. In 1943 they constructed the housing development of Vanport City for the workers, which ultimately had a population of 40,000 by war's end. 40% of the population was African-American. After the war, the shipbuilding jobs ended, and the population dropped, but Vanport City had became a home for many returning veterans. One of those veterans was Robert Hunter's father, and Hunter ended up in Vanport in 1948, when he was 7 years old. By that time, the town had a population of just 18,500, and it was not a well-off community.

Vanport City was built on land that had been reclaimed from the banks of the Columbia River, and thus was very vulnerable to flooding. There was a system of dikes in place, but there were a series of heavy rains throughout May of 1948. At 4:17 p.m on May 30, 1948--Memorial Day--the dike burst, and a 10-foot wall of water rushed through the town. It took half an hour to reach the houses, giving many a chance to get away. Many more were saved because they were at Memorial Day celebrations. Fortunately, only 15 died, but Vanport City was lost, and the people who lived there lost everything. After weeks of rain, the sun finally came out, and Hunter has said that the lyrics to "Here Comes Sunshine" recall his relief at the sunshine after the Vanport flood.

The land for Vanport City could not be used for housing or industry, so it became a protected city park in Portland. In 1961, as part of the Portland Rose Festival, some sports car enthusiasts organized some races through the paved streets of the deserted Vanport City. Over time, the dangerous street track was converted to a formally constructed road racing course in 1970. Since the racetrack is part of a city park that cannot be developed for other uses, Portland International Raceway is never in danger of being swallowed up by hungry real estate interests. PIR does not hold as many events as other full time facilities, but as a result it could be used for the occasional rock concert. The Grateful Dead have only been extraordinarily popular in Oregon, on a per-population basis, so PIR made a good facility for them. However, the weather in Oregon is always iffy, so an outdoor venue always carry some risk. In later years, the band played the football stadium in Eugene (an hour South), so the Dead never played PIR again.

May 9-10, 1987 Laguna Seca International Raceway, Monterey, CA Grateful Dead/Bruce Hornsby/Ry Cooder
The Group 44 Jaguar XJR7 at Laguna Seca on March 5, 1987, driven by Hurley Haywood and John Morton, which finished 4th in the IMSA GT race (photo by Kenneth Barton, from RacingSportsCars)
By the mid-1980, rock concerts were  big business. Nobody benefited more from that than the Grateful Dead, and rightly so, since the Dead had done so much back in the 60s to carve out the circuit in the first place. More and more basketball arenas were designed as multi-use concert facilities, so there were more venues than ever before. Yet the big movement in concert venues was towards what were known as "Sheds" in the industry, like Shoreline Amphitheatre. Modeled on classical musical venues, with a covered stage and premium seats, surrounded by a grassy bowl, the custom built shed has grown to dominate the concert industry.

However, in the mid-80s, there still weren't that many sheds nationwide. Thus, forward looking promoters like Bill Graham and John Scher were still looking for venues that could be repurposed for larger concerts. Although auto racing was booming, too, and most race tracks were also custom built facilities that did not have a place for non-automotive events, a few old racetracks got a look before America was fully shedded up.

Laguna Seca Raceway, between Monterey and Salinas, was constructed in 1957. There had been a series of popular sports car races that had moved from Golden Gate Park--I kid you not--to the streets of wealthy Pebble Beach, but by the mid-50s sports cars had simply become too fast to race safely on public roads, even closed ones. The land for Laguna Seca originally belonged to Fort Ord, the local army base. in 1974, with the Army downsizing, the land for Laguna Seca was deeded over to the Monterey Parks Department. As a paradoxical compromise, the land handed over by Fort Ord was marked as a Nature Preserve, so there can be no development around Laguna Seca. The track is popular with racers and fans, and famously picturesque. It is familiar from many commercials, and apparently it is quite popular as a backdrop for video games.

Laguna Seca Raceway could not have been used as a concert site in the 60s, or up until 1974, since it was still on an Army base. Military police used to direct the traffic out of the track--I doubt that would have been comfortable with a Grateful Dead crowd. After 1974, the juju of Sears Point and Altamont must have hung over any thoughts of collaboration, and in any case there was no meaningful intersection between the auto racing and rock and roll communities, so I assume the idea never really came up.

By 1987, however, a two-day Grateful Dead concert at Laguna Seca seemed like a great idea. The track could absorb a huge crowd, it had power, water and bathrooms, and it already allowed camping. At one time, seeing a Grateful Dead concert at Laguna Seca would have been the perfect merger between my childhood and adolescence, and to see Jerry Garcia and Phil Lesh where I had seen Jim Hall and John Surtees would have been a perfect convergence. By 1987, however, for a variety of reasons having to do with work, attending the Laguna Seca Dead shows was extraordinarily difficult for me and I did not do so. Every account I have ever heard about it, however, was fulsome in praise, and I am not surprised. Even if the moment had passed, a road racing track like Laguna Seca was perfect for the Grateful Dead, and at the end of the line it was finally proven.

July 2-3, 1988 Oxford Plains Speedway, Oxford, ME Grateful Dead/Little Feat

The layout of the Oxford Plains Speedway in Oxford, ME

Auto racing venues shift in importance for a variety of reasons, some related to the local area and some related to promoters and racing organizations. The Oxford Plains Speedway, in Oxford, ME, was established in 1950. Originally a half-mile oval, it was shortened to a 3/8 mile track at some point. Over the decades, it had been a regular stop for the second-tier NASCAR races, such as the Nationwide Series (and such predecessors as the Busch Grand National or Late Model Sportsman series). The seated capacity of the track is apparently, 14,000, which is large for a small oval.

In 1988, with the Grateful Dead looking for larger venues throughout the country, and without a shed in every region, they put on a weekend of shows at Oxford Plains Speedway. The speedway had put on a Monsters Of Rock heavy metal show earlier that summer (June 24, 1988), but I do not know whether the track was used as a concert venue much at any other time. From what I know of reading about the show in old editions of Deadbase, the site and shows were fondly remembered by New Englanders. In terms of physical layout, Oxford Plains was similar to Altamont, so a little oval could work fine for a Dead concert, as long as no one invited the Rolling Stones and made it a free concert.

However, whatever exactly happened, by 1988 the Grateful Dead were growing out of such venues, and into the bigger sheds in major venues. They never returned to Oxford Speedway. Oxford Speedway ultimately lost its Nationwide race--I won't bore you with the NASCAR politics associated with this--but the track continues to host smaller races every Summer.

July 29-30, 1988 Laguna Seca International Raceway, Monterey, CA Grateful Dead/Los Lobos/David Lindley and El-Rayo X

The crowd at the Grateful Dead show at Laguna Seca in 1988. It appears that the stage is just in front of Turn 5, which used to be Turn 3 (before the track was lengthened)
The Grateful Dead returned to Laguna Seca for another weekend in 1988. Once again, by all accounts, it was a fun, profitable, mellow event. By this time, auto racing was a big, specialized business, just like rock concerts, and there was little room for collaboration. The Grateful Dead had an interesting role in the history of rock concerts, in that they often tried out things before other bands. The Dead were adventurous, their fans were easygoing, and Deadheads were going to come to the concert anyway, so promoters could take a chance with a new venue or a new setup.

Yet the Dead's high profile opportunities at race tracks had been scuttled by other events. A potentially glorious event at Sears Point in 1969 had turned into a nightmare at tiny Altamont. The Watkins Glen event was so large that its very success must have frightened race track operators and local communities. Throughout the country, many classic race tracks closed, so there was no chance to demonstrate how good it could have been. Finally, at the very end, with two weekends at Laguna Seca and one at Maine, they Dead showed how well racetracks could work for as an outdoor venue, before they too traveled on up the ladder.

Appendix: Other Venues
Although large outdoor rock concerts are now annual events in Golden Gate Park, I do not believe we will ever see high speed sports car races though the park ever again. This track map is from the 1952-54 races. The race moved to the streets of Pebble Beach from 1955-57, and finally to a permanent site at Laguna Seca Raceway.

This post was written from the perspective of the concert history of the Grateful Dead. I'm aware that I dramatically simplified some aspects of the history of auto racing after World War 2, but I had to draw the line somewhere. My goal here was to write about land use, and my specific interest was in Grateful Dead concerts at facilities custom-built for auto racing. I'm aware of some places the band played where auto races were held, but they didn't fit my paradigm. However, for completeness, let me list them here:
  • Sports Car races were held on the paved roads of Golden Gate Park from 1952-54 (they were later moved to Pebble Beach, and then to Laguna Seca)
  • Midget auto races were held at Soldier Field in the 1950s (the Grateful Dead played there in the 1990s)
  • On September 22, 1968, the Grateful Dead played at an ostrich racing track (yes) in Del Mar, CA, that was later turned into a race track (Del Mar Raceway). However, from a land use point of view, it wasn't a race track at the time the Dead played there
  • The Grateful Dead played a number of county fairgrounds sites where auto races were held, but the band did not play on the race tracks themselves, to my knowledge. To name one example, the Dead played the Watsonville County Fairgrounds in 1983, but they played at main arena (probably the old horse race track), not the speedway.
  • I'm also aware that sometime around the 1990s, a promoter tried to tie in Trans-Am races with rock concerts, but I don't know such events were actually held. In the 1970s or 80s, that would have been unforgettable for me, though of course it would never have happened, but by the 1990s it was not a viable concept.
If any Deadhead racing fans see something I missed, please Comment or email me, and I will include it in the post.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

February 1973, unnamed bar, Stinson Beach, CA: Old And In The Way

One of my principal research enterprises has been tracking down lost dates and venues for the Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia and other members of the band. Most of the time, the references are scattered and contradictory, and any recollections by band members range from vague to unavailable. This one is a little different, however, since it is based on a single data point. It is a very convincing data point, in that it was an interview with John Kahn about the founding of the bluegrass band Old And In The Way. By the very nature of the comment, however, it is very difficult to confirm.

In Blair Jackson's definitive 1999 analytical biography, Garcia: An American Life, he quotes Kahn on the founding of Old And In The Way:
"Old And In The Way was basically David Grisman's trip," John Kahn recalled. "There was no fiddle player in the group at first. It was me, Peter Rowan, Grisman and Jerry. We'd get together and play at Jerry's house in Stinson Beach, or my house in Forest Knolls, and then we started playing some real gigs informally, like at the bar in Stinson Beach. It was this tiny place and the audience was louder than the band. It was all these big hippies dancing with these big hiking boots and the big flaps bouncing up and down. They'd start clapping and you couldn't hear us at all. Even we couldn't hear us (p.240, emphasis added).
So it seems that for all my research into the roots of Old And In The Way, I missed the fact that they initially played some apparently casual performances at a bar in the tiny West Marin town of Stinson Beach.

David Grisman added a similar thought
"You know Jerry-if he thinks something is worth doing, he'll just take it out there right away, which is good," Grisman said. "He said, 'Let's play some gigs,' and he had the gigs lined up! We started playing in clubs and then he booked a tour. It was a real informal thing."
I have already discussed the timeline of the formation of Old And In The Way, and its relation to the group known now as "Muleskinner." I have even wrestled with the peculiar, murky subject of fiddler John Hartford's participation in Old And In The Way, itself very hard to define (I think Hartford played on the unreleased studio album, but never performed live with the band). For this post, I am going to go back to what I missed the first time: Old And In The Way's quiet debut at an unnamed bar in Stinson Beach.

The Formation Of Old And In The Way
I have an entire post on the lengthy backstory of how Peter Rowan and David Grisman came to be staying in Stinson Beach in 1972, just down the hill from Jerry Garcia, Mountain Girl and their little family. Although the Dead were busy touring in '72, Garcia found time to pick and hang out with Rowan and Grisman. Their bluegrass prowess rekindled Garcia's interest in playing the banjo. I don't think it was a coincidence that Garcia's renewed focus on the banjo came just after he completely dropped the pedal steel guitar. Since bluegrass has a traditional repertoire, it was easy for the little trio to play together, since they all knew the same material.

Garcia had nearly lost his other band in the Spring of 1972, when John Kahn and Merl Saunders had joined the Butterfield Blues Band. Fortunately for Garcia, financial issues soured Kahn and Saunders on Butterfield's group, and they returned to San Francisco, so Garcia could return to regular club shows with them. When the Grateful Dead weren't playing, the Garcia-Saunders group played numerous gigs throughout early 1973. I have to assume that much of the formation of Old And In The Way took place in January of 1973, as the Grateful Dead were not touring, and Garcia/Saunders just played local clubs. I assume that Garcia played with Rowan and Grisman during the day that January, before going out to club gigs with Merl Saunders in the evening. Of course, it's worth noting that Garcia would have spent at least some of his time in January 1973 rehearsing brand new material with the Grateful Dead, so he seems to have been particularly busy.

When Old And In The Way needed a bass player, Garcia asked Kahn to join the group. Although Kahn had never played bluegrass, I know from an old musical friend of Kahn's (drummer Bob Jones) that Kahn had always liked bluegrass and been interested in it. From Garcia's point of view, he would have been looking to include rather than exclude Kahn from any extracurricular activity, if only to insure that no one else poached his bass player. As for Grisman and Rowan, Kahn was a nice guy and a fine player, and if a condition of having Garcia in the band was that he brought his bass player, that was probably fair enough.

Stinson Beach, CA
Stinson Beach is in West Marin. From an aerial view of a Google Map, it seems not so far from the suburban Marin of San Rafael or even San Francisco. In fact, West Marin is separated from San Rafael and the other suburbs by a mountain range, and the only route to San Francisco is the twisty, windy and slow Highway 1. Throughout the 19th and early 20th century, Stinson Beach was only accessible by boat, except for a difficult mountain trail. By the 1920s there were a few roads, and the area became a sort of resort. For the most part, however, Stinson Beach was just a tiny community where the principal industry was dairy farming.

By the 1960s, West Marin wasn't as isolated as it had been, thanks to the automobile and improved roads. However, the Western part of the county was mostly agricultural and kind of empty. Stinson Beach--named after its most prominent landowner back in the 1920s--had a presence as a local resort area, the kind of place where San Franciscans might rent a cabin and take a weekend. Although Western Marin and Sonoma have wildly beautiful coastlines and beaches, most normal people find the beaches to be strkingly windy and cold. Thus Stinson Beach was only really attractive to Northern Californians (and of course surfers) who thought that a cold, windy beach was a desirable vacation destination.

Californians are generally tolerant of newcomers, since there are are so few natives. Western Marin did not seem to object to an influx of hippie types in the late 1960s, since those hippies mostly wanted the same quiet, semi-rural life as the locals. Many San Franciscans had second homes in the area, and as long as they were detached and friendly, they fit in fine with the existing population. Western Marin was San Francisco's little secret--why share it? The residents of the town of Bolinas, not far from Stinson Beach, were famous for stealing all the road signs on Highway 1 that pointed to Bolinas, thus discouraging any casual tourists. This insularity was typical of Western Marin.

When Jerry Garcia and Mountain Girl moved to Stinson Beach in 1971, they weren't atypical of a lot of West Marin newcomers. Garcia had made a little money, but not that much--he had only made his first solo album for the $20,000 advance that allowed him to buy the house for Mountain Girl. Garcia didn't really commute in the normal sense of the word. The only useful way out of Stinson Beach was  South on forbidding Highway 1 to Highway 101. There you could turn right to the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco, or left to San Rafael and North, and thence to Keystone Berkeley to the East. When Garcia was not on tour, which wasn't that often , he didn't have to roll out of bed at the crack of dawn and fight the fog, so his drive--in a Volvo Sportwagon, from what I know--was probably fairly pleasant.

All of the California Coast from San Luis Obispo to the Columbia River in Oregon feature a ragged cliff that drops steeply to the beach. Thus beach towns in Northern California tend to be somewhat isolated. Highway 1 runs North and South along the California coast. It is the only through road in Stinson Beach. I do not know Garcia's exact address (nor would I publish it if I did), but I know he lived on a little hill above town, a very typical arrangement in California coastal towns. Typically, there is a beach, and above it a road along the cliff above the beach--often Highway 1 itself, as at Stinson--and then some houses rising behind a matrix of little streets above the coastal road.

Garcia and Mounatin Girl lived above Stinson Beach in a house that had a sign that said "Sans Souci" outside (French for "Without Care"). Chris and Lorin Rowan and their producer David Grisman had a house lower down, nearer to Highway 1. Older brother Peter Rowan took to hanging out with his old friend and his younger brothers. Stinson Beach is a tiny place, and even if Garcia was on the road alot, there is no way they couldn't run into each other, and so they did. Bluegrass followed.

Timeline
The story seemed to be that Garcia, Grisman and Rowan enjoyed playing bluegrass when the opportunity struck. Given Garcia's schedule, that can't have been too often. Grisman's remark suggests that the band fell together rather quickly as an actual band, and Garcia pulled the trigger on playing actual gigs very quickly. Here is a brief timeline of Garcia's availability for some stealth gigs in Stinson Beach:
  • Fall '72: Garcia, Grisman and Rowan play bluegrass in Stinson Beach when the opportunity arises
  • December '72-January 73: The Grateful Dead and Garcia play gigs only in California. Although Garcia gigs at night with the Dead and Garcia/Saunders, Kahn is invited to join, and the bluegrass quartet can practice during the day. 
  • January 12-February 6: Garcia/Saunders plays 15 nights during this stretch (out of 26 days).
  • February 9: The Grateful Dead play Maples Pavilion at Stanford
  • February 15-28: The Grateful Dead tour the Midwest
  • March 2: Old And In The Way make their public debut on KSAN in the afternoon, and then at the Lion's Share in San Anselmo that night.
Combining Kahn and Grisman's remarks points pretty clearly towards early February. The quartet probably started rehearsing in earnest at the end of January, and played a few times at a local bar in Stinson Beach in early February. When Garcia agreed to start playing, his manager Richard Loren--who was also good friends and former partners with Grisman--would have had two weeks to book shows at the Lion's Share, Homer's Warehouse and Keystone Berkeley in early March, before the Grateful Dead would go back out on tour.

If I am correct about the timeline, then the few weeks between gigs at the Stinson Beach bar and the first announced show at the Lion's Share was when they thought up the name. A local bluegrass quartet playing the bar in their town doesn't need a name. A band playing a club does. So the group must have settled on naming themselves after Grisman's song of the same name, probably on the spur of the moment. They could just as well have been the Midnight Moonlighters--not a terrible name, actually--but they surely never reflected on it.

Bars In Stinson Beach
Stinson Beach was and is the sort of town where no one would make a fuss about a local celebrity in their midst. There weren't many businesses in Stinson Beach, so while I don't think Garcia went to the grocery store much,  people still must have bumped into Jerry buying gas or cigarettes back in the day. Garcia was a San Francisco celebrity, as his picture had been published in the Chronicle often enough, and he was very distinctive, so people must have known. Yet the locals must have enjoyed ignoring him, and I'm sure Garcia liked it, too.

Kahn's phrase "at the bar in Stinson Beach" is telling as well. Back then, and possibly still, Stinson Beach was the type of town where you could say to a friend "I'll see you tonight at the bar," and the friend wouldn't ask "which bar?" In a tiny beach town, there aren't that many place to go, and the hippies all surely went to the same one. Also, use permits often stay in effect for decades, so though establishments may change their name, they may remain a bar and restaurant for a long time. Thus, it's not impossible that "the bar in Stinson Beach" where Old And In The Way debuted is still there. Without further information, I can't know where they played. However, to give you the flavor of Stinson Beach, I have identified two plausible places, one of them still open.

A poster for the New Tweedy Brothers booking at the bar Farallon East, at 3785 Highway 1 in Stinson Beach, on the weekend of September 9-11, 1966
Farallon East, 3785 Highway 1
The New Tweedy Brothers were a band from Oregon who temporarily relocated to the Bay Area in 1966. An otherwise obscure poster was immortalized in Paul Grushkin's book The Art Of Rock, featuring a gig the Tweedys played at a joint in Stinson Beach. A leading historical site tells us
Skip Lacaze recalls "Farallon East had for many years been the "Surf Club," a bar and restaurant with a sort of dinner club feel at one end (red banquettes and dim lighting), a family-style dining room at the other end, and a main room with a long bar, a shuffleboard table, and a dance floor. The owner, Friday, tended the bar all day in the 50s and early 60s. It was used to house a military unit during WWII (Coast Guard or Navy) and was supposed to be haunted by an enlisted man murdered by a mess boy with a butcher knife. It was also called the Red Whale for a while - after it was Farallon East, I think. I vaguely remember that there was some friction with some of the locals after rumours circulated that the Red Whale was owned by gays or was seeking a gay audience." 
The restaurant was eventually demolished and the new office for the Stinson Beach County Water District was built on the site. Their address is 3785 Shoreline Highway, so the restaurant probably used 3785 Highway 1. There was no mail delivery in town, so some people were sloppy with street addresses. Note that "The Farallons" are uninhabited islands 25 miles off the Marin coast.


The Sand Dollar, 3458 Shoreline Highway (Highway 1)
The Sand Dollar has a colorful history in its own right, and it's still there:
The Sand Dollar Restuarant was built in 1921 in Tiburon as three barges. The Barges were floated into Stinson Beach and fused together to form the historic restaurant you can come visit today.
Temptingly, the site mentions "Bluegrass on Sundays, so perhaps there is a tradition.

In any case, whether it was one of these two bars or some other tiny dive, there must have been a bar where the hippies hung out. They all probably recognized Garcia, and Rowan and Grisman too, for that matter. They'd probably seen them around town. But local musicians had probably always played the local bar, so in one way it was no different. Just like their fellows in Bolinas, however, the last thing the locals wanted to do was to let a newspaper or Rolling Stone know that Jerry Garcia sometimes played bluegrass at the bar. Then you'd have pushy hipsters from San Francisco or who-knows-where, and who wanted that? So no one seems to have mentioned it.

But I think it happened. I take Kahn at his word. They played a few times at "the bar" in Stinson Beach for the local hippies, and then became a "real band." I think enough of the tiny crowd must have known who Jerry Garcia was, and knew what they were hearing. They just haven't said anything about it. West Marin is a kind of paradise, if you're ok with wind, so a lot of people never leave. I think some of the people who saw Old And In The Way are still in Stinson Beach, just a little older and greyer. They are probably hanging out at the Starbucks now, rather than the bar, and their doctor insists they have to have skinny decaf frappucinos, but they are still there.

If we went to the Stinson Beach Starbucks and asked the old hippies if they ever saw Jerry Garcia play in a bluegrass band in a bar in Stinson Beach, most of them would say, "I wish" or just "no." But I think some of them did, and they just aren't talking about it.