December 31st, 1969. The coldest night I had ever experienced and the night I could have died.
When I was much younger, I worked as a deliveryman for several pizza joints. I could blast the radio, keep to myself and bring hungry people hot food. I got a quarter per delivery and whatever tips I got as my pay. No hourly wage. Just that and all you could eat. Made pretty good money and it was a contest to see how many lights I could avoid and alleys I could use to cut down the delivery time. In those days (This was 1969), we'd stuff the food into aluminum "hotboxes." in the rear of this box was a little drawer into which a propane heater would sit. You had to light it and it really kept stuff hot. When you were done for the night, you'd extinguish it, bring it inside and go on your way. All day, I was really preoccupied because the temperature was -19. The overnight temps were supposed to drop to nearly -30. That kind of weather can preoccupy anybody.
But of course, this story is only partially about my job and the cold weather. It's really about the events that happened on the day of one of my most memorable shows. I had flunked out of school and had to return home to try and stay in school, and this was the end of a semester I hadn't finished. One of my good buddies was getting a ride up to Chicago and we were going to go to a show that night. It was at an old skating rink that was redone as a psychedelic venue similar to the some of the legendary venues in San Francisco and New York. The Electric Theatre. What a place this was!! Classic, with light shows bouncing multi color protoplasm off the walls, "privacy booths" in the shape of mushrooms, cages for "go-go dancers"; the whole shebang! Earlier in 1968, One of the first shows I'd seen there had been Country Joe & The Airplane (among MANY others) and even though it changed names over the next few years, it was always a hoot to go to. I really saw some great shows there and to be honest, some real stinkers. This night, however, was Muddy Waters, The Byrds and Fleetwood Mac. The Byrds were playing their first show where allegedly, Jim McGuinn had changed his first name to Roger. I was also really looking forward to the Macs because it was the uh era where you could really enjoy Peter Green and Jeremy Spencer. Loved the two lead guitar thing. The Byrds started, and were trying to grow into their Sweetheart of the Rodeo mojo. On this night, rumor had it that they were going to be joined by Sneaky Pete Kleinow on pedal steel guitar; at least for this show Muddy was next and the Macs would bring in the New Year. Across the country, The Band Of Gypsies was doing the same thing at the Fillmore East. Now NYE shows are pretty standard. I couldn't wait to get there.
So, I'm delivering in the cold, the box is red hot and I'm rushing to finish. I had asked my boss for an early launch and he was OK with it. Pulled the box out of the car, count my dough, check out and I'm on my way home to meet my friend who sported a great Afro. Of course as I get in the door, all "pleasantries" are exchanged and I excuse myself to wash up and change my clothes. My mother is in tow (out of earshot) haranguing me about the Afro and) "can't he get a fuckin' haircut??) I'm sure this hardly ever happened to any of you who either were or had "flamboyant" friends in the late 60's.
After a little "sumpin sumpin" we're ready get on our way. We were starting to feel very agreeable and despite most denials over the years by people who knew the truth, those sorts of things (who me??) do dull your senses a little. It is freaking cold as hell and as we approach my car, we see nothing but a bright white hue coming from inside the car. I turn to my friend and ask, WTF is that? Long story short, the heating element had dislodged at some point and burned through the seat and if we didn't get to a firehouse pretty fucking quick, the show was not going to happen that night-- and that was not an option. As you'll later read, we might not have been much of an option either. We pulled up to a firehouse in a very residential neighborhood and after some laughter subsided, the seriousness of the situation kind of trumped the sight of two hippie idiots in their midst. They screamed at us to get out of the way and they hit that car with lots of cold water; inside and out. They're pretty good at that kind of stuff so the fire was extinguished and I was told that the fire had been directly over where the gas tank was. I was a kinetic car bomb and didn't know it. We thanked the firemen and offered them what we had. They weren't the "first responder heroes" in those days as they are now, so we were told that we were "dumber than a sack of smashed assholes" and we should get a haircut, a job and a bar of soap and get the hell out of there. It was a wet and freezing car. Because we could have blown up the whole block, everyone was relieved when they gave us the all clear. I think I could tell by the non-stop laughter and maybe a side of derision? They did tell us it was a miracle we didn't blow the fuck up and die that night. You can be good, but it never hurts to be lucky as well.
Never missed a note. The Byrds were a little too impaired and didn't quite jell with their set. But they were still legends and we really enjoyed it anyway. It began a real affinity I had with the pedal steel guitar- and still do. Muddy was particularly good, but the Macs came on at 11:00 and blew the fucking roof off the building. They played until dawn and like many shows, we walked out feeling as if we were only 5'5'. I swear we were 6'0" when we walked in. You may know the feeling.
The car was encased with ice inside and out and wouldn't start. We didn't feel so bad because on the buses (three) we took back to my house, we heard stories from others who were on the bus now, but who had driven somewhere earlier in the evening. It got down to -27 and nobody's car started. Had to get the SOB thawed out though. I was working New Year's Night. Nothing like Pizza and Football. Ohio State beat USC 27-16 to win the game and the national championship. Rex Kern got MVP, edging out a guy named Orenthal James Simpson, who had a pretty good day himself. One day, he wouldn't have such a good day-- or so the story goes.
Of course, Jimi, Buddy Miles and Billy Cox got a record out of their show and I still have it on vinyl. With all of the technologies that emerged from that point on, I wish somebody had made of recording of this show.
Dumber than a sack of smashed assholes?? Everybody can sign their name on that wall at some time or another This day was all mine. Thought you'd enjoy the story. Stay tuned for my Bill Evans Trio story; coming to a blog near you, in the future.
I am starting a different I was thinking about section. It contains fictional characters or people who changed their names. In the future, they'll all get mixed in together.
Carl Spackler
Vance Arnold
Apu Nahasapeemapetilon
Steve McGarrett
Clarence Rutherford
Jerry Lundegaard
Betty Persky
McKinley Morganfield
A good story about one of your dumber days beats thinking about The Affordable Care Act, Rush Limbaugh calling the Pope a Marxist and Dennis Kozlowski getting out of jail--- don't you think??
P.S Hope my proofreading was successful.
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