Chamblee54

This content was published August 12, 2009. … I am reading “Living With The Dead” about a band formerly known as The Warlocks. The *ghost writer* is a man named David Dalton, who channels the lysergic nuttiness. … The man behind the curtain might tell you that the GD name was about the death of the ego. Once the band became popular, the skeletons came out of the closet, and suddenly every day was the day of the dead. Jerry never cared for the skull paraphernalia, but got over it. …
… The person the ghost writer channeled was Rock Sculley. He was doing something in San Francisco in 1965, when Owsley Stanley invited him to the Trips Festival. Soon, the walls of the auditorium were breathing, and the band was playing. This was their first gig as the Grateful Dead, and Bill Graham was horrified by the new name. The posters had the phrase “formerly known as the Warlocks”. … The next night, Mr. Scully went to an acid test in Palo Alto, where Neal Cassidy was juggling hammers and talking endless amphetimated nonsense. If Neal had just stayed off those railroads tracks he could have been the first white rapper. …
… Owsley thought Rock Scully would be a good manager for the band. Maybe because his name sounded like skull. And so it goes. … Did Kurt Vonnegut ever see the Dead? They would have been a good match, especially with all the cigarettes mr v smoked. He could have been dosed, and time tripped back into that meat locker in Dresden. … Did you know there is a Dresden Drive that connects Brookhaven to Doraville? Dresden Drive is a popular road for police cars, and I learned a long time ago to watch the rearview carefully there. In the early seventies, Dekalb County drove gold Plymouth Satellites. I drove a gold Plymouth Satellite in the eighties, after the girl in Planet Claire made everyone forget the Dekalb gestapo. …
… Back to the book. The ghost writer and Kurt Vonnegut have a similar effect … when you read a book by mr v, you starts to think like the book reads. LWTD is having the same impact, which can be intimidating to the readers of this blog who dare to go this far. … The sixties were like that in California, or so I heard … in 1967, I was in the eighth grade, and a long way away from California dreamin’. Neal Cassidy said he got more out of breakfast than he got out of the eighth grade. …
… LWTD is chock full of trivia. Did you know that St. Stephen was written about Stephen Gaskin? Or that Grace Slick would never sunbathe nude on David Crosby’s boat, because David’s girlfriends were all so pretty. Grace just couldn’t compete. Oops, that last bit was from David Crosby’s book, which was another perversion excursion. Does anyone else find the concept of Mr. Walrus being the turkey baster daddy for Julie Cypher … just a touch bizarre? … I am on page 213 of LWTD at this point. This is a mathematical wonder, using all prime numbers and a superstition into a sum of six. The story of the dead is at a turning point, but then almost any inning of this ballgame was a turning point. It is early 1972. Pigpen has been replaced, but doesn’t know it yet. …
… The dead just played the Armistice day show at the Atlanta Municipal Auditorium, which is fondly remembered by many who were not there. In a bit of irony, this is one of the last shows with the old sound system. There is a quote from a someone who saw them in NY a few weeks later, and said it was the worst he had heard the band sound. … This is also turning point in america, with the rise of george mcgovern leading to a landslide for tricky dick. The sixties were slowing coming to a multi colored end. They were too painful to live and too profitable to die. …
… The band rode the wave for the next thirty seven years, even after uberdeadhead Jerry became the real thing on Hiroshima day in 1995. The book has about 144 pages to go (a gross), but I suspect that it won’t be as much fun as the first 213. … The pictures for this post are from a farm in Tennessee. As I edit the pics, I listens to a tape of the auditorium show, and the band plays “Tennessee Jed”. Once, I was playing a tape of “Tennessee Jed”, and a neighbor asked me “Do you like that?” “Yes” “then you are a hick”. … Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library. The social media picture was taken January 17, 1947. “McDonough Boulevard”