THE GRATEFUL DEAD Remenbrance Of Hippies Past

"Huh? The Grateful Dead? Me? A think piece? I haven't thought about them since 1968. Whaddaya mean you'll give me all weekend to think about them? I don't wanna think about them. Why don't they go die, already? I ain't doin' no piece on the Gratef...How much? Oh, when do ya need it by again?"

* A Dead-Head I'm not; never was. But I used to like the band. I live in San Francisco now—guess that's why they're makin' me write this thing (which is ridiculous, since everybody knows the Dead's biggest audience has always been in N.Y.; they even had the premiere of their flick there last summer)—but I used to live in New York and I used to visit San Francisco a lot. I guess the first time I saw the Dead was in '66. My friend Bob and I had hitched down to Mexico where we got dysentery and had all our stuff stolen. We came up to San Francisco and love and acid vibes were cornin' outta the sidewalks and bouncin' off the buildings. (It was great —-no kidding—real nice; I especially loved panhandling. I was real good at it.) One day we wound updn an old school bus with a bunch of other smelly hippies wearing headbands and serapes and I was spaced out of my mind by the time we got up to the top (must've been) of Mount Tamlalpais. Someone said it was some kinda holy spiritual place or something and the Dead were playing. Don't remember a note of it. Musta passed out. Great time—knew I'd wanna come back to Frisco again.