I graduated high school in June 1967. I was all set to start at the University of Pennsylvania on a full academic scholarship when my life took several quick hard turns. If you checked out Vol. 1 of this series, you may have noticed that my musical interests had changed toward the end of 66 & throughout 67. Although I still got a lot of music education from the radio, most of it was East coast info. Only a smattering of West coast music got any kind of airplay around me. Even when the DJs would play something from the left coast, it seemed it was bands whose music I just couldn't relate to...one in particular that I heard more than any other, it seemed, was the Beach Boys. When Pet Sounds came out in 66 it got some moderate coverage in my burg. I thought it was shit. I thumbed my nose at that whole beach lifestyle prissy sounding pablum. But then I became aware of San Francisco & I fell under the spell of her siren call.
I dreamed of Baghdad by the Bay.
One night about two weeks after we had graduated, I was hanging out with my best friend Myke Hash at one of the dive bars we frequented in Jamestown, New York (eighteen drinking age in New York as opposed to twenty-one in Pennsylvania). After a couple drinks or five I was expounding on the virtues of San Francisco. Myke listened for awhile & then said, "Well, Nathan, if you think you love that damn town as much as you let on, let's go. We can blow off school for a while. It's not going anywhere."
Myke was set to start college at Penn State in the fall on a double athletic scholarship (football & wrestling). He always had more nerve than I did & was always getting us into one sticky situation after another, but we were best friends, so I always went along with his crazy plans. But this idea was the most outrageous he'd ever come up with, so I told him, "Man, that's a lot to think about. I'm not really thinking too straight right now anyhow, so I guess I'm gonna head out, sleep on it & I'll let you know tomorrow. I gotta work in the morning (summer job at my dad's hardware store...yawn) so let's hit the road."
"I think I'll stay for awhile. There are some guys from the football team here. I'm gonna hang out with them & grab a ride home later. I'll see you tomorrow. We can talk some more about...SAN FRANCISCO" (making some strange high-pitched voice for the last two words).
"I'll see you tomorrow", I called back as I headed out the door to my beater 53 Dodge pick-up. I headed home, crawled into bed, & fell asleep with thoughts of fantasy San Francisco on my mind. But I didn't see Myke the next day, or ever again. My mom woke me the next morning about 5:30. I didn't have to work until 9:00 so I was less than cordial. "What's up?", I groaned.
"You have a phone call."
When I got to the phone, I barely recognized friend Lowell's voice on the other end. He sounded, well, very un-Lowell. He could barely get the words out but I was able to piece it together. "Mike's dead, Nathan."
Later the story unfolded that Mike had indeed hooked a ride with a trio of his football teammates. Rick, the second-string QB was driving his 67 Mustang convertible (graduation gift from his folks) at approximately 110 mph deeply under the influence of alcohol, went out of control & off the road. The car flipped at least once. Rick walked away with a few scratches & bruises, the two other teammates ended up in the hospital with broken bones, cracked ribs, a punctured lung, & the full spectrum of auto accident injuries. Myke had been thrown from the back seat (they had the top down & 67 'stang , no seat belts in rear). His brain had been ground to hamburg. The coroner determined that Myke had broken his neck on impact & died instantly, so he hadn't had to endure the grind.
Morality isn't supposed to hit you in the face like that, at that time of unfolding future possiblities. I fell into a deep funk. But it didn't last long. Before the week was out, I had gathered up my meager belongings, left a note saying "Gone to California", slipped out of my parent's house under the cover of darkness, driven north west to Erie, Pennsylvania & hopped on I90 West. I ditched my beloved pick-up (I actually kissed the hood good-bye...she never would have made the trek) at the first truck stop along the Interstate & stuck out my thumb. I was hitch-hiking to Baghdad. It was the only thing I could think to do to save myself from complete dissolution. I had to distance myself from Myke's death & I had to do it to commemorate his last crazy plan. Whether we would really have done it, blown off college & gone West, I would never have the chance to know, so the only thing I could think of that made the pain subside was this.
I'd hitch-hiked before, from one town to another locally, & once to Pittsburgh & back (some 280 miles round trip) but never anything like what I was doing. San Francisco was 2500+ miles, further than I'd probably traveled in my entire life so far. But I was to find out through repeated future trips that I was made for hitch-hiking. It took me exactly four days until I was dropped off at the foot of Haight Street, San Francisco. The first two days had been the usual hodge-podge of short to medium rides, but somewhere in the midst of Iowa, a long haul trucker picked me up. He had seen my sign "S.F." That's where he was heading & offered me a ride all the way. All I had to do was take bennies with him & stay awake to keep him company & keep him from zoning out or falling asleep. My friends & I had all stolen diet pills from our moms for weekend binges or cramming for finals, so I was familiar with "speed". I was in for the ride.
You can't possibly imagine my state of mind as he dropped me off. I had my back-pack & bed-roll, twenty-six dollars in my pocket, a handful of bennies from the trucker as a so-long, & little sleep in many days, no sleep at all in over two days. I had fallen into my dream.
I drowned myself in the whole ambiance of the place & time. San Francisco...the Summer of Love. As many as 100,000 people, mostly young people similar to myself converged on San Francisco that summer, most of them ending up in the Haight-Ashbury district. Most of us hanging out in Golden Gate Park. Hippie Hill. Free music, food, clothes, & love. Myke's death became a rock that I built a new life on. I have dedicated all the good deeds I have ever accomplished to his memory.
I stayed in San Francisco until late July, 1969. The scene had deteriorated around the Haight as the number of burn artists, burn-outs, street hustlers, & bad drugs rapidly grew. We'd already officially buried HIPPIE. I was feeling that itch of the road without really putting a finger on it at first. Then I saw an ad for the Woodstock Music & Art Fair in Bethel, New York. Billed as an Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music. Soon the rumors were buzzing among my friends & in the coffee shops along Haight. I was in the Garuda Tea House when I ran into an acquaintance who was also from Pennsylvania, Joe D. He told me he was planning on driving his 1963 Hilman Imp back in time to make it to "Woodstock". Well, once again, I was in for the ride.
We made it across the country with only a few minor hiccoughs, we made it to Woodstock (you all know that story), & when it was over, we made our way to New York City. I knew a chick, Judith, who would put us up. She lived on 22nd Street between 7th & 8th Avenue, right around the block from the Hotel Chelsea on 23rd, within easy walking distance of Greenwich Village, Eighth St. Bookstore, Washington Square Park, Max's Kansas City, everything essential. We wiled away the waning days of 69 in the Big Apple. & then the Vietnam War stuck in its ugly face.
Vol. 2 – San Francisco, with flowers in my hair 1968-1969
1968
Scott McKenzie - San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)
Big Brother & the Holding Company - Ball & Chain
Dr. John, the Night Tripper - I Walk on Gilded Splinters
Blue Cheer - Doctor Please
The Crazy World of Arthur Brown - Fire
Procol Harum - Quite Rightly So
The Amboy Dukes - Journey to the Center of the Mind
1969
Led Zeppelin - Dazed & Confused
MC5 - Kick Out the Jams
The Stooges - 1969
Captain Beefheart & his Magic Band - Sugar ‘N’ Spikes
Ten Years After - I Woke Up This Morning
Grand Funk - Heartbreaker
Thunderclap Newman - Something in the Air
Silver Apples - A Pox on You
Next up...Vol. 3 - Vietnam Draft Fears/ In & Out of College 1970-1971
Enjoy,
NØ