As Haight-Ashbury devolved from a counterculture mecca to a commodified tourist haven, and the Grateful Dead searched for the perfect sound to complement their continued evolution, Ron "Pigpen" McKernan found that his musical contributions were becoming obsolete. It wasn't long before he had to face the fact that the he was finally losing control of the group he had created.
Sources:
A Long Strange Trip: The Inside Story of the Grateful Dead, by Dennis McNally
Searching for the Sound, by Phil Lesh
Grateful Dead Close Down Haight Street For Free Concert, On This Day In 1968 (Live for Live Music)
Haight-Ashbury “Hippie Hop” bus
Grateful Dead: Anthem of the Sun and American Beauty (Classic Albums)
1967: Grateful Dead visit the Warnecke Ranch (Chalkhill Residency)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0iULSnZUkg
Grateful Dead's 'Anthem of the Sun': 10 Things You Didn't Know (Rolling Stone)
The 1967 letter from a record executive that said The Grateful Dead had "many problems" (Far Out)
Internet Archive Forums: 1968 - The Firing (part I)
Grateful Dead Guide: 1968 - The Firing (Dead Essays)
The moment when The Grateful Dead dosed the 'Playboy After Dark' crew (Far Out)
For behind the scenes info and news on this episode, follow:
Instagram: @DoubleElvis @Disgracelandpod
Twitter: @DoubleElvisFm @Disgracelandpod
Tik Tok: @Disgracelandpod
Pinterest: @doubleelvisfm
Facebook: Double Elvis Productions
Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse and many more musical icons all died at the age of 27. Scandalous, tortured,
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Double Elvis seven Club is the production of I Heart
Radio and Double Elvis Ron. Pigpen mccernan died at the
age of seven and include to life that was constantly
slipping through his fingers. I can give you twenty seven
reasons why that statement is true. Sixteen would be the
(00:27):
number of months that it took for Pigpen and the
Grateful Dad's digs at seven ten Ashbury to go from
a countercultural mecca to a commodified tourist haven. Another two
would be the number of cities the Grateful Dead would
record in while searching for the perfect sound to complement
their musical evolution, an evolution pig Pens struggled to keep
(00:48):
pace with. Two more would be the number of proficient
musicians becoming full time members of the Grateful Dead, the
band Pigpen helps start rendering Pigpens musical input near obs lee.
Another three would be the number of weeks he would
consider his future while taking a sabbatical from the group.
In four will be the number of years he'd have
(01:09):
left to live when he finally accepted that he was
no longer in control of the group that he had
created all totally on this our fifth episode of season
five Commodified Tourists Haven, searching for the sound becoming obsolete
in Ron Pigpen mcernin um Jake Brennan and this is
(01:33):
the cloth. The driver of the greyhound bus was being
(02:22):
paid by the hour, so he took his time creeping
through the winding streets of San Francisco. The occupants didn't
seem to mind, and they had no destination. This was
a pleasure cruise. A group of senior citizens and middle
class businessman, all dressed in suits, eagerly flipped through the
pamphlets they had been handed when they stepped on board.
(02:44):
They didn't know what to expect or what they might see.
The conservative newspapers made it seem like they were about
to witness the decline of Western civilization. Nothing was off
the table. When he came to the depths of debauchery.
The passengers opened the pamphlets to find a dictionary of terms,
a special collection of words used by the locals. Stoned
(03:05):
trip speed straight. This was how these people spoke, how
they thought, how they lived. It all seemed so foreign
to these buttoned up recipients of pension benefits and ores
of stock options. Surely people couldn't live like this had
they no sense at all. As the hate Ashbury section
of San Francisco came into view, the scene outside was
(03:26):
getting stranger. The tour guide droned on about the dangerous
citizens walking the streets, separated from the passengers by only
the safety of the greyhounds sidewall. The inhabitants of this
area were the ones who claimed that the bus passengers,
the upper middle class were ruining the country. Impossible, these
freaks on the streets, they were the invaders, dirty hippies.
(03:49):
The Greyhound was the vehicle of choice for the Hippie
Hop Bus Tour, which had started running in nineteen sixty seven,
just as the Summer of Love was reaching its peak.
It was an effort to com modify what plastered nearly
every front page in America. This trip, the bus trip
promised to be well worth the cost of admission. The
passengers weren't like the people they ogled on the streets.
(04:11):
The passengers would never tune in and drop out. More
judgmental than curious, they ogled the citizens of the Hate
like animals in a zoo. They couldn't buy into what
was happening because it would contradict everything they had ever
been taught and told. The very concepts they modeled their
entire lives around. They reflected the thoughts of most of
America's population. Cynicism was far easier than a long, hard
(04:34):
look in the mirror. A few blocks away, pig Pen
sat in the bathrobe on the front steps of seven
ten Ashbury, with an acoustic guitar across his lap. He
stubbed out a cigarette and lit another one. An empty
beer can sat on the ground next to mid Day
had given way to afternoon, and Pigpen was just trying
to get a little fresh air, pick a little guitar,
(04:56):
and chase off the last remaining hurts of his hangover
before heading to the evening's gig. As the cool San
Francisco breeze blew through his long black hair, he inhaled
deeply on his cigarette. He tilted his head back, eyes closed.
It was a rare moment of peace, one that was
becoming harder and harder to find, and they hate these days.
(05:17):
And then it was shattered. And if you look to
the right, we have oh, look there's one on the
porch now. Pig stared at the tour bus that had
planted itself in front of the old Victorian home. Faces
pressed up against the glass, some smiling, others horrified, all
of them completely out of place. Pig gave them an
(05:39):
obligatory quick smile. He quickly turned and entered the house
where he could drop the fourth smile and the act altogether.
He opened the fridge and cracked another beer. Just then
a knocking came on the door. Here we go again,
another reporter. This was becoming all too common. It seemed
like an everyday occurrence. A con stream of local and
(06:01):
national reporters flooded the hate seven ten Ashbury. Specifically, they
wanted to know what was happening in the most happening
spot in the country. Time magazine, Life Magazine. They want
to know what's going on at seven ten Ashbury. Fucking unreal.
When pig wasn't answering questions about where he got his bandanna,
he was answering questions about what he thought a hippie
(06:21):
was hippie? Who the hell knew what that meant. Pigpen
didn't come up with that word, and they weren't hippies,
they were just people. But the questions never stopped, even
once about pig Pen being the star of the Grateful Dead.
His face was the only one on the band's merchandise.
After all, pig Pen boxed he was being cast as
the palot piper of the Hate. There were, of course,
(06:45):
ernest journalists who were actually interested in the San Francisco
sound and scene, but that didn't sell magazines. Then they
Hate wasn't only overrun with journalists looking for scandalous front
page fodder, who was also overrun with young people there
for the wrong reasons, on the wrong track and headed
for the hate. The word was out about the Summer
of Love, and everyone wanted to light up and have
(07:06):
themselves a ball. It was as if they thought just
arriving in San Francisco would enlighten them like that should
happened by osmosis. Pig Pen have been living this life
as far back as he could remember, and the Grateful
Dead weren't some experiment in a cage for the public
to gag at. They were artists just trying to create,
(07:26):
and they've been living their art. Paul alto the acid
tests all empolylagnitas. Now they hate. Each stage of the
trip lifted the group to a new level, influenced their direction,
altered their minds, and their existence in San Francisco was
just the continued pursuit of that life to live deeply.
As Henry David Threau would say, to suck out all
(07:47):
the marrow. This wasn't an overnight operation, and yet the
arriving masses thought it was. They infiltrated the bubble of
the hate, and they did as many drugs as they could.
This over eager population didn't pair well with the that
those same streets were becoming increasingly violent. Rape, robbery, and
murder was quickly becoming more commonplace than love and kindness.
(08:08):
But San Francisco police weren't amused. They already had their
hands full with civil rights marches in Vietnam protests. Now
they had to deal with an overdrugged, overpopulation. The counterculture
mecca of the world was crumbling. The sunny side of
the street was starting to get dark with all the
negative vibes, and it felt as though the Hates bubble
would burst at any moment. The Dead, too, were quickly
(08:31):
reaching the end of their rope. This first album had
barely broken into the charts, peaking at number seventy three,
and there was not a hit single to be found
on either side of the LP, and despite a commercial
flop in the frustrations that were building around their beloved
Hates Facelift, the Grateful Dead still felt a duty to
(08:51):
the streets of San Francisco, and there was nothing like
a handful of free shows to help Melo things out.
But these were some bad vibes that even a free
show couldn't mellow out. Warner Brothers Records and their record
label wouldn't quit hassling them. It would have been nearly
five months since The Dead's debut record was released. The
follow ups do within the year. Moves had to be made.
(09:14):
Pig Pen was always able to level out wherever the
Dead went, but he was starting to get comfortable with
his life and the Hate. Spending time with me, playing
old blues tunes and drinking at local bars before performing
at night. He was settled in. But Jerry and Phil
didn't settle. They were already on the next phase of
the Grateful Dead's evolution. The Dead didn't stand still, and
(09:36):
they certainly weren't in the business of being sentimental. Once
something stopped serving them, they went in a new direction.
What could pig Pen do about a new direction, even
if he was a prominent member of the group. It
was but one voice of five, and by the fall
of seven that direction would begin a never ending revolving
door of band members, altering the dead sound and career forever.
(10:00):
But first, a respite from the madness was needed. The
dead had to get out of San Francisco. The sun
(10:38):
beat down on pig Pan's face. He sat in a
long chair on a platform overlooking the water, holding a
bottle of bourbon. The bed's gear sat next to him.
His long black hair was still wet that hung over
his stomach, which was continuing to increase in size. He
lifted the bottle to his lips and took in the scene.
The Russian River, one miles north of San Francisco, was
(11:01):
an ideal slice of solitude that the grateful dead were
in desperate need of. In the place was paradise. San
Francisco was a drag bill Kurtzman's friend offered the group
the spot, a large house surrounded by several cabins right
on the river. How could they say now? The steady
stream of topless women floated by on rafts. A fleet
(11:24):
of canoes provided endless hours of entertainment. There was a
sense of seclusion here that the dead had an experienced
since the Lagnita's days. They could stretch their creative legs.
Pigs studied the lyric sheet in front of them, versus
that Jerry's friend Robert Hunter sent a few months back.
Robert Hunter was a fellow California native, a friend and
(11:45):
collaborator of Jerry's in the Paol Alto days. Robert took
off to both Los Angeles and New Mexico, volunteering as
a psychedelic test subject for the CIA's top secret mk
Ultra program, and then battling both metha and phetamine and
speed addictions. The Robert never stopped writing, and he maintained
his friendship with Jerry. Jerry constantly attempted to convince Robert
(12:06):
to return home. He raved about the dead as bait,
and Robert instead sent lyrics, and now from one thousand
miles away, Robert Hunter had made his first meaningful contribution
to the Grateful Dead. The lyrics described a reptile basking
in the sun and drinking whiskey. Pig bang could dig
it ship, pig could be that reptile. It was the
(12:29):
first time pig style perfectly suited in original work by
the dead, so he added a verse of his own.
The verse was inspired by the serene setting the group
had found on the river in Olempolly and in Lagnitas.
The Dead had already been working out the music, a big,
fat bluesy jam. One by one, the rest of the
band slowly made their way out to the platform to
(12:51):
begin the day's work. A funky drama, raunchy simple guitar
lick and pigs sensual bluesy lyrics, slipping and sliding over
it all, the song Alligator was coming together, with pig
Pen once again placed at the center of the band.
Pig Pen felt like he could live on that river forever.
But Warner Brothers needed their album, and so just as
(13:13):
the Ompoly and Lognitis experiences ended, so too do the
Russian River excursion. The Grateful Dead found that the tent
scene they left behind in San Francisco had become downright grim.
There were already too many people in the city, but
now the con men had moved in as well. Origuno
sold as grass aspir and ponnd Off as acid. And meanwhile,
(13:35):
the people who did know what they were buying and
moved away from psychedelics to a darker selection of drugs, speed, cocaine,
Harold the summer of love had peaked and was now
slouching towards something deeply sinister. Pig wasn't about the acid,
he wasn't about the weed, and he was certainly not
about the newest narcotics presence in the neighborhood. When The
(13:58):
Grateful Dead's manager, Rock Scully had an overdose scare upstairs
at seven ten Ashbury, pig Pen found himself seconds away
from killing the guy who had supplied the smack. Pigpen
felt something dark creeping in, and as the hate became
more complicated to navigate, so too did the Grateful Dad's music.
(14:19):
In September nine, a second drummer joined the group, Mickey Hart.
Mickey had just finished up a stint in New York
as a session drummer after being discharged from the Air Force.
Mickey style was straight ahead, no nonsense, schooled and military
drumming technique. He kept the train on time, reducing the
capacity for meandering raps or musical lines you know, pig pens,
(14:42):
bread and butter. Mickey also allowed the group to experiment
with time signatures not commonly found in rock and roll
or blues music. While a majority of the band relished
the opportunity to expand their musical horizons, Pigpen once again
found himself on the outs. Pigpen didn't just play the blues,
He lived the blues, and the blues didn't funk around
(15:02):
with time signatures. Those complex time signatures also gave way
to longer, more experimental pieces. Pig Bank could no longer
show up to rehearsal after a few stiff drinks, and
he would no longer have the luxury of nursing a
bottle of bourbon while the group pieced together new compositions.
Just as Pigpenn thought he was getting a grasp on
the Grateful Dead and the music they were playing, just
(15:23):
when he thought he was contributing to the direction that
the group was taking, everything turned on its head only
days after Mickey joined the band, face down that thirty
years sentence for the Acapulca Gold hash found at seven
ten Ashbury. There wasn't pigs fucking stash, pig cash in
his chips and folded on the full house. He knew
things were going sideways. He and his girl v moved
(15:46):
out of the Ashbury House and then eventually out of
San Francisco entirely. But first the entire band left San
Francisco together, headed to l A to record their second
album and fulfill their commitment to Warner Brothers and then
get to do it with the Nupper hand. To their
record company overlords, a clause in their contract allowed for
unlimited time in the studio. Producer David Hassinger, who had
(16:09):
rushed The Dead through their first album, could tell right
away that this time around would be different. The band
spread out in the studio. Experimentation was king. The Beatles
had just released Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band that summer,
pushing the envelope for what a band could do with
studio space and how an album could sound, and The
Grateful Dead endeavored to do the same. Just like their
(16:32):
first effort, the sessions for the second album weren't going
out the band had envisioned. They soon moved to New
York for the confines of a more technically advanced studio.
Their type A producer was quickly losing his patients with
all the hippies in his control room, and then Bob
Weir requested thick air to fill in the silent spaces
of a record I think what I think. Air Passier
(16:55):
called it quits. These space cadets could do whatever the
funk they wanted. They had free reign of the studio
and the label signed off on the whole thing, passing
her head to get the hell out before they drove
him insane in In an instant, there was like someone
hit or release valve. The pressure to perform on command,
to be not only precise but concise, to have the
cow to how to a producer standing over their shoulders.
(17:18):
It all melted away. The Grateful Dead weren't collapsing under
a cloust phobic studio environment. Instead, they explored the studio space.
They took their time with the music. Pigpen nailed the
lyrics for Alligator, and The Grateful Dead even decided to
revive an old tune from called Caution Do Not Stop
on tracks another Pigpen lead vocal, and these two songs
(17:40):
will make up the entire B side of the album,
an entire side for Pigpens vocals. Dan. It was a
throwback to the Powell Alto days, but there was a
clear distinction between the songs. Pig Pen was leading in
the songs he wasn't Pigpen songs were the Dead from before.
The other tunes sounded like a much different group, and
the shift was only enhanced from the Dead Flu and
(18:02):
Phil's old college buddy Tom Constant and to record some
prepared piano parts for the A side of the album.
Tom was more proficient and sophisticated on the keys, bringing
a style to the album that Pig Pang could never provide.
Creative madness ensued. The Grateful Dead destroyed microphones for seconds
of audio, stuffed pianos full of quarters, hot box many
(18:25):
of the studios they took up residence in. They took
their time and told Joe Smith that Warner Brothers that
they planned to mix in live recordings with studio recordings
to achieve the right ambiance. By December, Smith was skeptical
at best, and when producer David Hassinger's account to the
group's behavior reached him, he was furious. This wasn't the
Avalon ballroom where the Grateful Dead lorded over a freaky
(18:47):
scene of their own design. This wasn't a game, This
was the big time. This was fucking Warner Brothers. Smith
sent the letter to the band. Heared them to send
their artwork a sap and wrap up their recording. They
were out of time, tough shit. The record was going
to be released in two months, whether they liked it
or not, and furthermore, they all needed to grow up
and stop behaving like stone little pranksters. The Grateful Dead's
(19:12):
response was brief. They wrote fuck you and giant letters
on Joe Smith's letter and sent it right back to him.
Nothing was going to stand in their way when it
came to the development of their sound, not even Joe Smith.
And if pig pens reduced role was beginning to get
to him, it didn't outwardly show. Pig Pen kept his
head down, kept chugging, riding that train. But when you
(19:35):
don't take the time to look up, you can miss
all the warning signs. We'll be right back after this
word word word. Pig Pens stood behind the him and organ,
(19:56):
flanked on either side by two massive Leslie speakers. He
felt dwarfed behind the new instrument. His vox organ was
at released half the size and a far less complicated
beast to boot, and the Hammond felt like a spaceship
had played like one too. Pig Pen desperately tried to
figure it out, but it was different, the fingerings, layout,
(20:16):
the levels, it was all so different. God damn it.
The thing was too complicated in the music that was
becoming a beast within itself. Pig Pen's head spun as
the band jam which drummer did he fall? Bill Mickey?
The music sounded like some advanced class back at Dana
Morgan's music store. Did he have to like learn theory? Now?
Was Jerry even doing that? Pig Pen played it safe.
(20:39):
He played what he knew as simple as possible. He
didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb, so
he played lines that can easily be tucked away. I
thought that it was always easy to do so. The
music was continuing to head in unpredictable directions, like some
complicated math equation on a blackboard. Pigpen liked his math
like he liked his music. Simp Ball The Grateful Dead
(21:01):
had abandoned simplicity long ago. Pig Pen couldn't wait to
get into making the next record. Maybe it would be
something more his speed, Maybe he could find a way
to ship. He was out of time again. Jerry stopped
the jam. His eyes shot daggers into Pigpen. Jesus pig
did he even practice this? Pigpen bit his lip while
Jerry berated him about spending his nights watching TV and
(21:24):
drinking bourbon and not practicing. Pigpen didn't have a mean
bone in his body. He just stood there and took it. Hell,
it's not like Jerry was wrong, That's just who he was.
The Grateful Dead picked up the song again, and they
have been rehearsing for five, six seven hours. Pigpen couldn't
even tell anymore. The rehearsals had long ago turned into
(21:45):
daily marathons, and now the music was becoming so complex
that pig was consistently losing his footing. Jerry and Phil's
new musical aspirations had the band cruising around in deep space,
weaving in and out of cosmic musical motifs. Pigpen was
firmly planted on Earth, watching helplessly as his band, now
with two drummers, counterbalance two time signatures that had arguably
(22:07):
never existed anywhere else in the world of rock and
roll before, at least as far as Pigpen new. Pig
Pen's eyes glazed over this other side of the Grateful
Dead's coin. It was hetty rigid. It had too many frills.
He was completely lost, and it wasn't alone. The jam
broke down again. This time Bob Weir was out of
(22:27):
time and was the recipient of a patent. Did Jerry
Garcia death stare. Bobby's earnest energy and aggressive style wasn't
clicking with the new direction either. Rehearsals came to a
merciful end. Pig Pin headed to the nearest bar to
drink away his frustrations. As Rock Scully was heading out
the door. A few minutes later, Jerry called him back
(22:48):
and they needed to talk. Jerry knew there was no
easy way to approach the subject, so he came straight
out with it. Listen, man, I get an assignment for you.
Rock was all years. I can't play with them anymore.
Them as in pig Pen and Bobby, And it wasn't
just Jerry. The rest of the band wanted them out.
(23:09):
Pig Pen and Bobby were holding the Dead back musically
and creatively. It was becoming a drag. Rock understood, right,
It's not the Pigpen and Bobby couldn't play, rather than
they couldn't play with the rest of the Grateful Dead
were playing. A short meeting was arranged Rock told the
other four members of the Dead to make their intentions know. Jerry,
Phil Bill, and Mickey all pirouetted around the subject in
(23:32):
typical grateful Dead fashion. They had trouble giving anything a
final decision or punctuation. The only thing clear to them
was that the current structure of the group wasn't working,
So rather than break up the band, Jerry, Phil Bill,
and Mickey formed a separate entity and began playing shows
under the moniker Mickey and the Heartbeats. That's heart spelled
h a RT for Mickey Hart. Pigpen understood, but that
(23:55):
didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. He never told
Jerry and the others how much it, and after a
few nights of heavy drinking, he got back in the saddle.
He began lessons, specifically named it how to play him
and organ. He practiced day and night, getting the reps,
drilling himself back into shape, ensuring that he'd be formidable
enough to at least keep up with what was going
(24:16):
on in the Dead. As he continued to practice, the
rest of the Dead, minus Pig and Bobby, continued to
perform as Mickey and the Heartbeats. Pig feared that This
was the moment he'd been dreading for a long time,
the moment when his own band finally slipped through his fingers,
and all the him and lessons in the world weren't
going to fix that problem. He needed time, time to
(24:37):
re examine this place and the grateful dead, re examined
his place in the whole scene, and he took plenty
of that time with his lady, V, who dried his tears.
One night, however, the couple's roles were reversed. It was
V who needed pig Pen's help. She returned home that
night with a headache, a full blown migraine. Really she
(24:59):
could barely cease Drake. Only it wasn't a migraine. V
was in the middle of having a stroke. She wound
up in the hospital for emergency surgery. Pig Pen sat
by her bed, acting as her nurse, her physical therapist,
and her main support system. One evening, Bobby and Jerry
came by the hospital and gave V a quiet concert
(25:21):
with acoustic guitars. The three members of the fractured group
went back half a decade by this point, not just
as bandmates, but as brothers, and that brother had superseded
any musical rift. V Lying in a hospital bed may
or may not have been a catalyst, but it was
the moment in which they all took a more lucid
look at what was happening with the band. Though they
(25:41):
didn't always outwardly show it, they all cared for each other.
The band slowly and intentionally forgot about the details surrounding
pig and Bobby getting fired. They both seamlessly worked their
way back into live sets with the band, who for
a time staggered their shows with other appearances as the
heartbeats before the Grateful Head was back full time. There
(26:02):
was no joyous reunion, no comeback show. Pig Pen and
Bobby just reassimilated into the band, and although both have
been practicing ferociously to get their chops up, pig sounds
still felt like filler at times. The unspoken truth that
the Grateful Dead understood was this, if they were going
to get where they wanted to go on their next album,
their next evolution, they would need a more accomplished player
(26:25):
than Pigpen to help them get there. Pig Pens sipped
(26:54):
his beer and peered around the room. It was filled
to the brim with blonde models, and middle aged en
in business suits. Most of these people had already drank
the coffee, the coffee that was dosed with acid before
the show, and pretty soon most of these high class
seeds to types who had morph into saucer. I'd freaks.
I thought the pig pen wasn't used to that. What
(27:16):
he wasn't used to was the setting. The room wasn't
just a room. It was a set in a Hollywood studio,
and just twenty ft away, Jerry Garcia was yucking it
up with Hugh Hefner in full heaf mode with a pipe,
smoky jacket and bow tie, just moments before the Grateful
Dead were to perform on Heffner's syndicated show Playboy after Dark.
(27:39):
That was strange a conversation between Jerry Garcia and Hugh Heffner,
but it wasn't the strangest thing happening that evening. Jerry,
followed by a camera, approached the stage where the rest
of the Grateful Dead were waiting and took a seat.
They began to play Mountains of the Moon, a folks on.
This was one of the new directions in which the
Dead were heading. Jerry and Bob weaved acoustic guitars together
(28:02):
while Jerry sang a gentle lyric and I will get electric.
Organ filled up the rest of the space and the tune.
Only this organ wasn't being played by pig Pen. Pig
Pen was watching from the far end of the stage,
far from the focus of the cameras, far from the music,
seated behind the selection of congo drums. Yes, He and
bought weird and made their way back into the band.
(28:24):
Yes he and Bob had reconcile with the rest of
the group of Bob was sitting center stage, playing with
the clear spokesman of the band, and pig Pen. Pig
was nowhere near the action. Pigpen wouldn't touch an organ
at all that night, and he would play much less
that entire year. Tom Constant, Phil Lesh's friend who had
sat in during the recording of The Anthem of the Sun,
(28:46):
was now the chief keys player for the Grateful Band,
supplanting pig Pen in a month or so that he
had been absent from the group. Pigpen couldn't deny it.
Tom's talent. He had something Pigpen didn't have him. Pig
knew it. He was self aware enough to a minute
Pigpen would not be taking his job back from Tom,
So Pigpen banged away at his congas as the Dead
(29:07):
broke into a lively rendition of St. Stephen. He watched
from the sidelines, unaware of his playing was even having
a positive effect on the sound of the band at all.
That band, his band, was trucking ahead without any meaningful
contribution from Pigpen, as if they didn't need him at all.
At one point, the camera hands over to pigs standing
behind the congo is not even playing his expression like
(29:30):
he's coming to understand how the words that Bobby and
Jerry have just delivered our perfect summation of what's going on.
One man gathers one another man's spills. And as the
dead played on, the scene around them became increasingly chaotic.
As the genteel playboy guests began to trip their brains out,
(29:51):
the grateful dead kept their blinders on and hammered out
a successful show. There were nothing if not professionals. They
grow accustomed to the chaos surrounding them, just like Pigpen
would grow accustomed to his new role. That night would
be a sign of things to come. It was clear
that Tom was the missing piece that Jerry and Phil
(30:11):
were looking for and Pigpen wasn't about to fight it.
He did what he always did, didn't make a big
deal out of it, didn't confront anyone, and that wasn't
Pigpen style. Pig style was a big, hard and warm demeanor.
He became fast friends with Tom constantin pig Turned Tom
onto music he had never heard before, boogie players like
Albert Emmons and Pete Johnson, and pig walked Tom through
(30:34):
the inevitable dozings he experienced while on tour with one
of the most dosed bands in rock history. They shared
keyboard duties on stage, but Pigpens reduced role as an instrumental.
This freedom of to focus more on vocals during live sets.
Live on stage was where Pigpen shined. He could howl
out and inspired good morning, Little Schoolgirl, turn on your
(30:56):
love Light, and of course Alligator Getting lost in the
performance and as The Dead prepared to wrap up their
final studio album, the dopamine hies of a live experience
almost allowed Pigpen to imagine a world where he only
sang lead vocals, almost allowed him to forget he'd have
to work harder to stay relevant within the confines of
the group almost allowed him to forget about the shrinking
(31:19):
presence in the band. It almost felt like the next
step in the evolution of the Grateful Dead. Almost um
Jake Brennan and This is the Club. Club is hosted
(31:46):
and produced by me Jake Brennan for Double Elvis in
partnership with I Heart Radio. Zeth Lundie is the lead
writer and co producer. This episode was mixed by Joel Edinburgh.
Additional music and score Allen minutes by Ryan Spraaker and
Henry Luneta. This episode was written by Ted Boma, story
and copy ending by Pata Healy. Sources for this episode
(32:09):
are available at Double Elvis dot com on the twenty
seven Club series page, talk to me on Social act
disgrace Land pod, and hang out with me live on
a Twitch channel of disgrace Land Talks. For more news
on your favorite podcast, follow at Double Elvis on Instagram,
Rock rolla, what Up Your Is
Double Elvis seven Club is the production of I Heart
Radio and Double Elvis Ron. Pigpen mccernan died at the
age of seven and include to life that was constantly
slipping through his fingers. I can give you twenty seven
reasons why that statement is true. Sixteen would be the
(00:27):
number of months that it took for Pigpen and the
Grateful Dad's digs at seven ten Ashbury to go from
a countercultural mecca to a commodified tourist haven. Another two
would be the number of cities the Grateful Dead would
record in while searching for the perfect sound to complement
their musical evolution, an evolution pig Pens struggled to keep
(00:48):
pace with. Two more would be the number of proficient
musicians becoming full time members of the Grateful Dead, the
band Pigpen helps start rendering Pigpens musical input near obs lee.
Another three would be the number of weeks he would
consider his future while taking a sabbatical from the group.
In four will be the number of years he'd have
(01:09):
left to live when he finally accepted that he was
no longer in control of the group that he had
created all totally on this our fifth episode of season
five Commodified Tourists Haven, searching for the sound becoming obsolete
in Ron Pigpen mcernin um Jake Brennan and this is
(01:33):
the cloth. The driver of the greyhound bus was being
(02:22):
paid by the hour, so he took his time creeping
through the winding streets of San Francisco. The occupants didn't
seem to mind, and they had no destination. This was
a pleasure cruise. A group of senior citizens and middle
class businessman, all dressed in suits, eagerly flipped through the
pamphlets they had been handed when they stepped on board.
(02:44):
They didn't know what to expect or what they might see.
The conservative newspapers made it seem like they were about
to witness the decline of Western civilization. Nothing was off
the table. When he came to the depths of debauchery.
The passengers opened the pamphlets to find a dictionary of terms,
a special collection of words used by the locals. Stoned
(03:05):
trip speed straight. This was how these people spoke, how
they thought, how they lived. It all seemed so foreign
to these buttoned up recipients of pension benefits and ores
of stock options. Surely people couldn't live like this had
they no sense at all. As the hate Ashbury section
of San Francisco came into view, the scene outside was
(03:26):
getting stranger. The tour guide droned on about the dangerous
citizens walking the streets, separated from the passengers by only
the safety of the greyhounds sidewall. The inhabitants of this
area were the ones who claimed that the bus passengers,
the upper middle class were ruining the country. Impossible, these
freaks on the streets, they were the invaders, dirty hippies.
(03:49):
The Greyhound was the vehicle of choice for the Hippie
Hop Bus Tour, which had started running in nineteen sixty seven,
just as the Summer of Love was reaching its peak.
It was an effort to com modify what plastered nearly
every front page in America. This trip, the bus trip
promised to be well worth the cost of admission. The
passengers weren't like the people they ogled on the streets.
(04:11):
The passengers would never tune in and drop out. More
judgmental than curious, they ogled the citizens of the Hate
like animals in a zoo. They couldn't buy into what
was happening because it would contradict everything they had ever
been taught and told. The very concepts they modeled their
entire lives around. They reflected the thoughts of most of
America's population. Cynicism was far easier than a long, hard
(04:34):
look in the mirror. A few blocks away, pig Pen
sat in the bathrobe on the front steps of seven
ten Ashbury, with an acoustic guitar across his lap. He
stubbed out a cigarette and lit another one. An empty
beer can sat on the ground next to mid Day
had given way to afternoon, and Pigpen was just trying
to get a little fresh air, pick a little guitar,
(04:56):
and chase off the last remaining hurts of his hangover
before heading to the evening's gig. As the cool San
Francisco breeze blew through his long black hair, he inhaled
deeply on his cigarette. He tilted his head back, eyes closed.
It was a rare moment of peace, one that was
becoming harder and harder to find, and they hate these days.
(05:17):
And then it was shattered. And if you look to
the right, we have oh, look there's one on the
porch now. Pig stared at the tour bus that had
planted itself in front of the old Victorian home. Faces
pressed up against the glass, some smiling, others horrified, all
of them completely out of place. Pig gave them an
(05:39):
obligatory quick smile. He quickly turned and entered the house
where he could drop the fourth smile and the act altogether.
He opened the fridge and cracked another beer. Just then
a knocking came on the door. Here we go again,
another reporter. This was becoming all too common. It seemed
like an everyday occurrence. A con stream of local and
(06:01):
national reporters flooded the hate seven ten Ashbury. Specifically, they
wanted to know what was happening in the most happening
spot in the country. Time magazine, Life Magazine. They want
to know what's going on at seven ten Ashbury. Fucking unreal.
When pig wasn't answering questions about where he got his bandanna,
he was answering questions about what he thought a hippie
(06:21):
was hippie? Who the hell knew what that meant. Pigpen
didn't come up with that word, and they weren't hippies,
they were just people. But the questions never stopped, even
once about pig Pen being the star of the Grateful Dead.
His face was the only one on the band's merchandise.
After all, pig Pen boxed he was being cast as
the palot piper of the Hate. There were, of course,
(06:45):
ernest journalists who were actually interested in the San Francisco
sound and scene, but that didn't sell magazines. Then they
Hate wasn't only overrun with journalists looking for scandalous front
page fodder, who was also overrun with young people there
for the wrong reasons, on the wrong track and headed
for the hate. The word was out about the Summer
of Love, and everyone wanted to light up and have
(07:06):
themselves a ball. It was as if they thought just
arriving in San Francisco would enlighten them like that should
happened by osmosis. Pig Pen have been living this life
as far back as he could remember, and the Grateful
Dead weren't some experiment in a cage for the public
to gag at. They were artists just trying to create,
(07:26):
and they've been living their art. Paul alto the acid
tests all empolylagnitas. Now they hate. Each stage of the
trip lifted the group to a new level, influenced their direction,
altered their minds, and their existence in San Francisco was
just the continued pursuit of that life to live deeply.
As Henry David Threau would say, to suck out all
(07:47):
the marrow. This wasn't an overnight operation, and yet the
arriving masses thought it was. They infiltrated the bubble of
the hate, and they did as many drugs as they could.
This over eager population didn't pair well with the that
those same streets were becoming increasingly violent. Rape, robbery, and
murder was quickly becoming more commonplace than love and kindness.
(08:08):
But San Francisco police weren't amused. They already had their
hands full with civil rights marches in Vietnam protests. Now
they had to deal with an overdrugged, overpopulation. The counterculture
mecca of the world was crumbling. The sunny side of
the street was starting to get dark with all the
negative vibes, and it felt as though the Hates bubble
would burst at any moment. The Dead, too, were quickly
(08:31):
reaching the end of their rope. This first album had
barely broken into the charts, peaking at number seventy three,
and there was not a hit single to be found
on either side of the LP, and despite a commercial
flop in the frustrations that were building around their beloved
Hates Facelift, the Grateful Dead still felt a duty to
(08:51):
the streets of San Francisco, and there was nothing like
a handful of free shows to help Melo things out.
But these were some bad vibes that even a free
show couldn't mellow out. Warner Brothers Records and their record
label wouldn't quit hassling them. It would have been nearly
five months since The Dead's debut record was released. The
follow ups do within the year. Moves had to be made.
(09:14):
Pig Pen was always able to level out wherever the
Dead went, but he was starting to get comfortable with
his life and the Hate. Spending time with me, playing
old blues tunes and drinking at local bars before performing
at night. He was settled in. But Jerry and Phil
didn't settle. They were already on the next phase of
the Grateful Dead's evolution. The Dead didn't stand still, and
(09:36):
they certainly weren't in the business of being sentimental. Once
something stopped serving them, they went in a new direction.
What could pig Pen do about a new direction, even
if he was a prominent member of the group. It
was but one voice of five, and by the fall
of seven that direction would begin a never ending revolving
door of band members, altering the dead sound and career forever.
(10:00):
But first, a respite from the madness was needed. The
dead had to get out of San Francisco. The sun
(10:38):
beat down on pig Pan's face. He sat in a
long chair on a platform overlooking the water, holding a
bottle of bourbon. The bed's gear sat next to him.
His long black hair was still wet that hung over
his stomach, which was continuing to increase in size. He
lifted the bottle to his lips and took in the scene.
The Russian River, one miles north of San Francisco, was
(11:01):
an ideal slice of solitude that the grateful dead were
in desperate need of. In the place was paradise. San
Francisco was a drag bill Kurtzman's friend offered the group
the spot, a large house surrounded by several cabins right
on the river. How could they say now? The steady
stream of topless women floated by on rafts. A fleet
(11:24):
of canoes provided endless hours of entertainment. There was a
sense of seclusion here that the dead had an experienced
since the Lagnita's days. They could stretch their creative legs.
Pigs studied the lyric sheet in front of them, versus
that Jerry's friend Robert Hunter sent a few months back.
Robert Hunter was a fellow California native, a friend and
(11:45):
collaborator of Jerry's in the Paol Alto days. Robert took
off to both Los Angeles and New Mexico, volunteering as
a psychedelic test subject for the CIA's top secret mk
Ultra program, and then battling both metha and phetamine and
speed addictions. The Robert never stopped writing, and he maintained
his friendship with Jerry. Jerry constantly attempted to convince Robert
(12:06):
to return home. He raved about the dead as bait,
and Robert instead sent lyrics, and now from one thousand
miles away, Robert Hunter had made his first meaningful contribution
to the Grateful Dead. The lyrics described a reptile basking
in the sun and drinking whiskey. Pig bang could dig
it ship, pig could be that reptile. It was the
(12:29):
first time pig style perfectly suited in original work by
the dead, so he added a verse of his own.
The verse was inspired by the serene setting the group
had found on the river in Olempolly and in Lagnitas.
The Dead had already been working out the music, a big,
fat bluesy jam. One by one, the rest of the
band slowly made their way out to the platform to
(12:51):
begin the day's work. A funky drama, raunchy simple guitar
lick and pigs sensual bluesy lyrics, slipping and sliding over
it all, the song Alligator was coming together, with pig
Pen once again placed at the center of the band.
Pig Pen felt like he could live on that river forever.
But Warner Brothers needed their album, and so just as
(13:13):
the Ompoly and Lognitis experiences ended, so too do the
Russian River excursion. The Grateful Dead found that the tent
scene they left behind in San Francisco had become downright grim.
There were already too many people in the city, but
now the con men had moved in as well. Origuno
sold as grass aspir and ponnd Off as acid. And meanwhile,
(13:35):
the people who did know what they were buying and
moved away from psychedelics to a darker selection of drugs, speed, cocaine,
Harold the summer of love had peaked and was now
slouching towards something deeply sinister. Pig wasn't about the acid,
he wasn't about the weed, and he was certainly not
about the newest narcotics presence in the neighborhood. When The
(13:58):
Grateful Dead's manager, Rock Scully had an overdose scare upstairs
at seven ten Ashbury, pig Pen found himself seconds away
from killing the guy who had supplied the smack. Pigpen
felt something dark creeping in, and as the hate became
more complicated to navigate, so too did the Grateful Dad's music.
(14:19):
In September nine, a second drummer joined the group, Mickey Hart.
Mickey had just finished up a stint in New York
as a session drummer after being discharged from the Air Force.
Mickey style was straight ahead, no nonsense, schooled and military
drumming technique. He kept the train on time, reducing the
capacity for meandering raps or musical lines you know, pig pens,
(14:42):
bread and butter. Mickey also allowed the group to experiment
with time signatures not commonly found in rock and roll
or blues music. While a majority of the band relished
the opportunity to expand their musical horizons, Pigpen once again
found himself on the outs. Pigpen didn't just play the blues,
He lived the blues, and the blues didn't funk around
(15:02):
with time signatures. Those complex time signatures also gave way
to longer, more experimental pieces. Pig Bank could no longer
show up to rehearsal after a few stiff drinks, and
he would no longer have the luxury of nursing a
bottle of bourbon while the group pieced together new compositions.
Just as Pigpenn thought he was getting a grasp on
the Grateful Dead and the music they were playing, just
(15:23):
when he thought he was contributing to the direction that
the group was taking, everything turned on its head only
days after Mickey joined the band, face down that thirty
years sentence for the Acapulca Gold hash found at seven
ten Ashbury. There wasn't pigs fucking stash, pig cash in
his chips and folded on the full house. He knew
things were going sideways. He and his girl v moved
(15:46):
out of the Ashbury House and then eventually out of
San Francisco entirely. But first the entire band left San
Francisco together, headed to l A to record their second
album and fulfill their commitment to Warner Brothers and then
get to do it with the Nupper hand. To their
record company overlords, a clause in their contract allowed for
unlimited time in the studio. Producer David Hassinger, who had
(16:09):
rushed The Dead through their first album, could tell right
away that this time around would be different. The band
spread out in the studio. Experimentation was king. The Beatles
had just released Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band that summer,
pushing the envelope for what a band could do with
studio space and how an album could sound, and The
Grateful Dead endeavored to do the same. Just like their
(16:32):
first effort, the sessions for the second album weren't going
out the band had envisioned. They soon moved to New
York for the confines of a more technically advanced studio.
Their type A producer was quickly losing his patients with
all the hippies in his control room, and then Bob
Weir requested thick air to fill in the silent spaces
of a record I think what I think. Air Passier
(16:55):
called it quits. These space cadets could do whatever the
funk they wanted. They had free reign of the studio
and the label signed off on the whole thing, passing
her head to get the hell out before they drove
him insane in In an instant, there was like someone
hit or release valve. The pressure to perform on command,
to be not only precise but concise, to have the
cow to how to a producer standing over their shoulders.
(17:18):
It all melted away. The Grateful Dead weren't collapsing under
a cloust phobic studio environment. Instead, they explored the studio space.
They took their time with the music. Pigpen nailed the
lyrics for Alligator, and The Grateful Dead even decided to
revive an old tune from called Caution Do Not Stop
on tracks another Pigpen lead vocal, and these two songs
(17:40):
will make up the entire B side of the album,
an entire side for Pigpens vocals. Dan. It was a
throwback to the Powell Alto days, but there was a
clear distinction between the songs. Pig Pen was leading in
the songs he wasn't Pigpen songs were the Dead from before.
The other tunes sounded like a much different group, and
the shift was only enhanced from the Dead Flu and
(18:02):
Phil's old college buddy Tom Constant and to record some
prepared piano parts for the A side of the album.
Tom was more proficient and sophisticated on the keys, bringing
a style to the album that Pig Pang could never provide.
Creative madness ensued. The Grateful Dead destroyed microphones for seconds
of audio, stuffed pianos full of quarters, hot box many
(18:25):
of the studios they took up residence in. They took
their time and told Joe Smith that Warner Brothers that
they planned to mix in live recordings with studio recordings
to achieve the right ambiance. By December, Smith was skeptical
at best, and when producer David Hassinger's account to the
group's behavior reached him, he was furious. This wasn't the
Avalon ballroom where the Grateful Dead lorded over a freaky
(18:47):
scene of their own design. This wasn't a game, This
was the big time. This was fucking Warner Brothers. Smith
sent the letter to the band. Heared them to send
their artwork a sap and wrap up their recording. They
were out of time, tough shit. The record was going
to be released in two months, whether they liked it
or not, and furthermore, they all needed to grow up
and stop behaving like stone little pranksters. The Grateful Dead's
(19:12):
response was brief. They wrote fuck you and giant letters
on Joe Smith's letter and sent it right back to him.
Nothing was going to stand in their way when it
came to the development of their sound, not even Joe Smith.
And if pig pens reduced role was beginning to get
to him, it didn't outwardly show. Pig Pen kept his
head down, kept chugging, riding that train. But when you
(19:35):
don't take the time to look up, you can miss
all the warning signs. We'll be right back after this
word word word. Pig Pens stood behind the him and organ,
(19:56):
flanked on either side by two massive Leslie speakers. He
felt dwarfed behind the new instrument. His vox organ was
at released half the size and a far less complicated
beast to boot, and the Hammond felt like a spaceship
had played like one too. Pig Pen desperately tried to
figure it out, but it was different, the fingerings, layout,
(20:16):
the levels, it was all so different. God damn it.
The thing was too complicated in the music that was
becoming a beast within itself. Pig Pen's head spun as
the band jam which drummer did he fall? Bill Mickey?
The music sounded like some advanced class back at Dana
Morgan's music store. Did he have to like learn theory? Now?
Was Jerry even doing that? Pig Pen played it safe.
(20:39):
He played what he knew as simple as possible. He
didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb, so
he played lines that can easily be tucked away. I
thought that it was always easy to do so. The
music was continuing to head in unpredictable directions, like some
complicated math equation on a blackboard. Pigpen liked his math
like he liked his music. Simp Ball The Grateful Dead
(21:01):
had abandoned simplicity long ago. Pig Pen couldn't wait to
get into making the next record. Maybe it would be
something more his speed, Maybe he could find a way
to ship. He was out of time again. Jerry stopped
the jam. His eyes shot daggers into Pigpen. Jesus pig
did he even practice this? Pigpen bit his lip while
Jerry berated him about spending his nights watching TV and
(21:24):
drinking bourbon and not practicing. Pigpen didn't have a mean
bone in his body. He just stood there and took it. Hell,
it's not like Jerry was wrong, That's just who he was.
The Grateful Dead picked up the song again, and they
have been rehearsing for five, six seven hours. Pigpen couldn't
even tell anymore. The rehearsals had long ago turned into
(21:45):
daily marathons, and now the music was becoming so complex
that pig was consistently losing his footing. Jerry and Phil's
new musical aspirations had the band cruising around in deep space,
weaving in and out of cosmic musical motifs. Pigpen was
firmly planted on Earth, watching helplessly as his band, now
with two drummers, counterbalance two time signatures that had arguably
(22:07):
never existed anywhere else in the world of rock and
roll before, at least as far as Pigpen new. Pig
Pen's eyes glazed over this other side of the Grateful
Dead's coin. It was hetty rigid. It had too many frills.
He was completely lost, and it wasn't alone. The jam
broke down again. This time Bob Weir was out of
(22:27):
time and was the recipient of a patent. Did Jerry
Garcia death stare. Bobby's earnest energy and aggressive style wasn't
clicking with the new direction either. Rehearsals came to a
merciful end. Pig Pin headed to the nearest bar to
drink away his frustrations. As Rock Scully was heading out
the door. A few minutes later, Jerry called him back
(22:48):
and they needed to talk. Jerry knew there was no
easy way to approach the subject, so he came straight
out with it. Listen, man, I get an assignment for you.
Rock was all years. I can't play with them anymore.
Them as in pig Pen and Bobby, And it wasn't
just Jerry. The rest of the band wanted them out.
(23:09):
Pig Pen and Bobby were holding the Dead back musically
and creatively. It was becoming a drag. Rock understood, right,
It's not the Pigpen and Bobby couldn't play, rather than
they couldn't play with the rest of the Grateful Dead
were playing. A short meeting was arranged Rock told the
other four members of the Dead to make their intentions know. Jerry,
Phil Bill, and Mickey all pirouetted around the subject in
(23:32):
typical grateful Dead fashion. They had trouble giving anything a
final decision or punctuation. The only thing clear to them
was that the current structure of the group wasn't working,
So rather than break up the band, Jerry, Phil Bill,
and Mickey formed a separate entity and began playing shows
under the moniker Mickey and the Heartbeats. That's heart spelled
h a RT for Mickey Hart. Pigpen understood, but that
(23:55):
didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. He never told
Jerry and the others how much it, and after a
few nights of heavy drinking, he got back in the saddle.
He began lessons, specifically named it how to play him
and organ. He practiced day and night, getting the reps,
drilling himself back into shape, ensuring that he'd be formidable
enough to at least keep up with what was going
(24:16):
on in the Dead. As he continued to practice, the
rest of the Dead, minus Pig and Bobby, continued to
perform as Mickey and the Heartbeats. Pig feared that This
was the moment he'd been dreading for a long time,
the moment when his own band finally slipped through his fingers,
and all the him and lessons in the world weren't
going to fix that problem. He needed time, time to
(24:37):
re examine this place and the grateful dead, re examined
his place in the whole scene, and he took plenty
of that time with his lady, V, who dried his tears.
One night, however, the couple's roles were reversed. It was
V who needed pig Pen's help. She returned home that
night with a headache, a full blown migraine. Really she
(24:59):
could barely cease Drake. Only it wasn't a migraine. V
was in the middle of having a stroke. She wound
up in the hospital for emergency surgery. Pig Pen sat
by her bed, acting as her nurse, her physical therapist,
and her main support system. One evening, Bobby and Jerry
came by the hospital and gave V a quiet concert
(25:21):
with acoustic guitars. The three members of the fractured group
went back half a decade by this point, not just
as bandmates, but as brothers, and that brother had superseded
any musical rift. V Lying in a hospital bed may
or may not have been a catalyst, but it was
the moment in which they all took a more lucid
look at what was happening with the band. Though they
(25:41):
didn't always outwardly show it, they all cared for each other.
The band slowly and intentionally forgot about the details surrounding
pig and Bobby getting fired. They both seamlessly worked their
way back into live sets with the band, who for
a time staggered their shows with other appearances as the
heartbeats before the Grateful Head was back full time. There
(26:02):
was no joyous reunion, no comeback show. Pig Pen and
Bobby just reassimilated into the band, and although both have
been practicing ferociously to get their chops up, pig sounds
still felt like filler at times. The unspoken truth that
the Grateful Dead understood was this, if they were going
to get where they wanted to go on their next album,
their next evolution, they would need a more accomplished player
(26:25):
than Pigpen to help them get there. Pig Pens sipped
(26:54):
his beer and peered around the room. It was filled
to the brim with blonde models, and middle aged en
in business suits. Most of these people had already drank
the coffee, the coffee that was dosed with acid before
the show, and pretty soon most of these high class
seeds to types who had morph into saucer. I'd freaks.
I thought the pig pen wasn't used to that. What
(27:16):
he wasn't used to was the setting. The room wasn't
just a room. It was a set in a Hollywood studio,
and just twenty ft away, Jerry Garcia was yucking it
up with Hugh Hefner in full heaf mode with a pipe,
smoky jacket and bow tie, just moments before the Grateful
Dead were to perform on Heffner's syndicated show Playboy after Dark.
(27:39):
That was strange a conversation between Jerry Garcia and Hugh Heffner,
but it wasn't the strangest thing happening that evening. Jerry,
followed by a camera, approached the stage where the rest
of the Grateful Dead were waiting and took a seat.
They began to play Mountains of the Moon, a folks on.
This was one of the new directions in which the
Dead were heading. Jerry and Bob weaved acoustic guitars together
(28:02):
while Jerry sang a gentle lyric and I will get electric.
Organ filled up the rest of the space and the tune.
Only this organ wasn't being played by pig Pen. Pig
Pen was watching from the far end of the stage,
far from the focus of the cameras, far from the music,
seated behind the selection of congo drums. Yes, He and
bought weird and made their way back into the band.
(28:24):
Yes he and Bob had reconcile with the rest of
the group of Bob was sitting center stage, playing with
the clear spokesman of the band, and pig Pen. Pig
was nowhere near the action. Pigpen wouldn't touch an organ
at all that night, and he would play much less
that entire year. Tom Constant, Phil Lesh's friend who had
sat in during the recording of The Anthem of the Sun,
(28:46):
was now the chief keys player for the Grateful Band,
supplanting pig Pen in a month or so that he
had been absent from the group. Pigpen couldn't deny it.
Tom's talent. He had something Pigpen didn't have him. Pig
knew it. He was self aware enough to a minute
Pigpen would not be taking his job back from Tom,
So Pigpen banged away at his congas as the Dead
(29:07):
broke into a lively rendition of St. Stephen. He watched
from the sidelines, unaware of his playing was even having
a positive effect on the sound of the band at all.
That band, his band, was trucking ahead without any meaningful
contribution from Pigpen, as if they didn't need him at all.
At one point, the camera hands over to pigs standing
behind the congo is not even playing his expression like
(29:30):
he's coming to understand how the words that Bobby and
Jerry have just delivered our perfect summation of what's going on.
One man gathers one another man's spills. And as the
dead played on, the scene around them became increasingly chaotic.
As the genteel playboy guests began to trip their brains out,
(29:51):
the grateful dead kept their blinders on and hammered out
a successful show. There were nothing if not professionals. They
grow accustomed to the chaos surrounding them, just like Pigpen
would grow accustomed to his new role. That night would
be a sign of things to come. It was clear
that Tom was the missing piece that Jerry and Phil
(30:11):
were looking for and Pigpen wasn't about to fight it.
He did what he always did, didn't make a big
deal out of it, didn't confront anyone, and that wasn't
Pigpen style. Pig style was a big, hard and warm demeanor.
He became fast friends with Tom constantin pig Turned Tom
onto music he had never heard before, boogie players like
Albert Emmons and Pete Johnson, and pig walked Tom through
(30:34):
the inevitable dozings he experienced while on tour with one
of the most dosed bands in rock history. They shared
keyboard duties on stage, but Pigpens reduced role as an instrumental.
This freedom of to focus more on vocals during live sets.
Live on stage was where Pigpen shined. He could howl
out and inspired good morning, Little Schoolgirl, turn on your
(30:56):
love Light, and of course Alligator Getting lost in the
performance and as The Dead prepared to wrap up their
final studio album, the dopamine hies of a live experience
almost allowed Pigpen to imagine a world where he only
sang lead vocals, almost allowed him to forget he'd have
to work harder to stay relevant within the confines of
the group almost allowed him to forget about the shrinking
(31:19):
presence in the band. It almost felt like the next
step in the evolution of the Grateful Dead. Almost um
Jake Brennan and This is the Club. Club is hosted
(31:46):
and produced by me Jake Brennan for Double Elvis in
partnership with I Heart Radio. Zeth Lundie is the lead
writer and co producer. This episode was mixed by Joel Edinburgh.
Additional music and score Allen minutes by Ryan Spraaker and
Henry Luneta. This episode was written by Ted Boma, story
and copy ending by Pata Healy. Sources for this episode
(32:09):
are available at Double Elvis dot com on the twenty
seven Club series page, talk to me on Social act
disgrace Land pod, and hang out with me live on
a Twitch channel of disgrace Land Talks. For more news
on your favorite podcast, follow at Double Elvis on Instagram,
Rock rolla, what Up Your Is
Host
Jake Brennan
Popular Podcasts
The Breakfast Club
The World's Most Dangerous Morning Show, The Breakfast Club, With DJ Envy And Charlamagne Tha God!
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
Decisions, Decisions
Welcome to "Decisions, Decisions," the podcast where boundaries are pushed, and conversations get candid! Join your favorite hosts, Mandii B and WeezyWTF, as they dive deep into the world of non-traditional relationships and explore the often-taboo topics surrounding dating, sex, and love. Every Monday, Mandii and Weezy invite you to unlearn the outdated narratives dictated by traditional patriarchal norms. With a blend of humor, vulnerability, and authenticity, they share their personal journeys navigating their 30s, tackling the complexities of modern relationships, and engaging in thought-provoking discussions that challenge societal expectations. From groundbreaking interviews with diverse guests to relatable stories that resonate with your experiences, "Decisions, Decisions" is your go-to source for open dialogue about what it truly means to love and connect in today's world. Get ready to reshape your understanding of relationships and embrace the freedom of authentic connections—tune in and join the conversation!