Fall, 1969

 

       It was a revolutionary time. Throughout the land, the King of Soul was widely at work, but so was the jester, in a coat he borrowed from James Dean, or so it has been reported.

       News at 11:00.

~~~

Speak out, 

you got to speak out against the madness

you got to speak your mind

if you dare.

But don’t, no don’t, try to get yourself elected.

If you do you had better cut your hair.

       David Crosby’s words vibrated out from the stereo.  Stills and Nash chimed in with the refrain:

And it appears to be a long,

appears to be a long,

appears to be a long,

appears to be a long,

such a long, long, long, long time before the dawn.

        Donnie handed the joint to Maureen. She took a hit and said, “I heard them do this song at Altamont a few months ago.” Holding the smoke in, her voice sounded like the stretched tip of an aired balloon. 

        “Oh yeah? What was that like?

       “She let the smoke out. ”Crazy. It was a zoo.”

        Maureen, a New Jersey girl, rough around the edges and just like one of the guys, slightly heavy-set in jeans and the work shirt, laughed. “Crosby was trying to sing this song. I felt sorry for him. There was this weird vibe all around. It wasn’t anything like Woodstock. The stage was down low.  It was more like a barroom blast than a rock concert. People were just sort of milling around, all around the stage, while the groups were trying to do their thing, get everybody cranked up with the rock blasting out of those big speakers. I mainly wanted to hear Crosby, Stills and Nash. When they went on, I could hardly see them. We managed to worm our way in and sat down on a blanket about forty yards out from the stage When they did this song, they wound it way out, with these long guitar leads, trying to draw the song out, jazz it up, not like the album version. I guess that’s kind of like the Dead do with their stuff. I felt like, when Crosby was singing this song he was trying too hard, like over-dramatizing it, striving to project the song’s message out and over the heads of all those jokers who were standing around, like they had some important reason to be there. But those people were definitely cutting off the energy of the musicians. I felt like it was kind of putting a bummer on the whole thing.”

. . . and a few minutes later. . .

. . .and they got more obnoxious as the day went on. The worst thing that happened was at the end. After dark, all the vibes got even more weird. The Stones were playing, and there was, like, a constant scuffle going on around the stage. Some people were really tripped-out, freakin out, right next to the band, and Mick Jagger kept yelling at the people right around the stage, telling them to cool it, and calling for ‘those cats to stop beating people up.’ I mean, he even threatened to shut down the whole concert, like, ‘if you people don’t quit punching each other out we’re gonna split.’ He kept saying that over and over. It was like, whiny, ‘we’re gonna split, we’re gonna split, man.’  He was sounding like my little brother whining, when my big brother would pick on him. “We’re gonna split, we’re gonna split. Na nana booboo!”

All of the above is excerpt from  chapter 17 of my 2017 novel, King of Soul.

King of Soul