Busted down on Bourbon Street. Fleeced by a member of the family. Plastered on a runaway train barreling through the Canadian countryside. As the Grateful Dead faced a number of new challenges and detours, their music moved steadily ahead on solid footing – evidenced by the back-to-basics songs that made up Workingman’s Dead, their best album in years.
Sources:
A Long Strange Trip: The Inside Story of the Grateful Dead, by Dennis McNally
Searching for the Sound, by Phil Lesh
The Grateful Dead Were "Busted Down On Bourbon Street," On This Day In 1970 (Live for Live Music)
Jerry Garcia on the NOLA bust (YouTube)
Pigpen Forever: The Life and Times of Ron McKernan, by Blair Jackson
January 30, 1970: New Orleans Bust & Benefit (Dead Sources)
Grateful Dead live at the Fillmore East, 5/15/1970
How 1970's 'Workingman's Dead' Changed the Grateful Dead Forever (Guitar World)
50 Years Ago: Grateful Dead Kick Up Dust on 'Workingman's Dead' (Ultimate Classic Rock)
Workingman's Dead (The Grateful Dead Wiki)
Lenny Hart Arrested (Dead.net)
Train kept a rollin': a brief history of the (in)famous 1970 Festival Express (RETROactive)
1970: The Saga of the Festival Express (Mind Smoke Records)
June/July 1970: The Festival Express (Dead Sources)
Brian Jones: Sympathy for the Devil (Rolling Stone)
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Okay. Double Elvis Club is the production of I Heart
Radio and Double Elvis Ron. Pigpen mcernan died at the
age of and he lived a life that was always
meant to go off the tracks. I can give you
(00:22):
twenty seven reasons why that statement is true. Two would
be the number of times he narrowly avoided a possession
rap for drugs, drugs that he had absolutely no desire
to use or even sell. Another four will be the
number of years of savings pig would lose when the
Dead got taken for a financial ride by a trusted
(00:43):
member of their family. Eight more would be the number
of tracks that appeared on The Grateful Dead's fourth studio album,
Working Man's Dead, which turned away from psychedelia, though not
directly back towards pigs Beloved blues. Another eleven would be
the number of days pig Pen and the Grateful Dead
would embark on a cross country journey into the Canadian wilderness,
(01:05):
on a train ride that altered their perspective and their minds.
And two will be the number of Englishmen who had
the unpleasant task of letting an original band member go,
a member who would die a month later and serve
as a grim harbinger of what would await pig Pen
and his good friend all totally on this episode seven
(01:29):
of season five, Possession wraps money Blues riding that train
in Ron Pigpen McCarney, Um, Jake Brennan and this is
the cloth h M. I'd be careful if I were you.
(02:26):
The voice outside the Grateful Dead's New Orleans Hotels startled wrong,
Pigpen mccernell. He wasn't used to security guards handing out
free advice. Pig Pen felt like the rent the cop
was staring into his soul. Be careful. Lots of crazy
things happened around here. No ship, Sherlock. They were in
New Orleans, Les Leon Roulette. The big easiest middle name
(02:49):
was crazy. It was January thirty one. Pig Pen and
his band me Tom Constant, had just returned from a
nearby shop where they had perused antique pistols. Pigpen narrowed
his eyes at the guard. What was lots of crazy
things happened around here? Is supposed to meet? The security
(03:09):
guard grinned like he knew something Pigpen didn't know. Pigpen
decided to brush it off, but couldn't help but feel
like he was being watched. He and Tom walked inside
the hotel. Pig Pen scanned each person he saw. It
was hard to tell if the scattered souls and the
hotel lobby were undercover cops, so just guess the hotel
(03:30):
and question was settled right in the heart of Bourbon Street,
a large brick building with requisite iron porches wrapped around
the facade quintessential French quarter. Pig Pen hoped the grateful
dead weren't about to be quint essentially fucked. Although the
ancient building felt foreign, the feeling pig was getting on
the inside was all too familiar. Pig and Tom ascended
(03:51):
the stairs to find John McIntyre, the dead store manager,
hanging out in an upstairs lobby smoking a cigarette. Pig
Pen were counted as interaction with the security guard, and
pig was sweating. He thought of the bus on the
Hate back in sixty seven. He started worry that once
again he get locked up for something he didn't have
any party. Wouldn't that be just his luck, especially since Tom,
(04:14):
in addition to being the only band member besides Pigpen
who regularly played keys, was also the only band member
besides Pigpen, who didn't regularly partake in the legal narcotics.
John calmed him down, told not to worry. Easier said
than done. Pigpen couldn't shake the feeling that something was
about to go down, and he was right. It was
(04:36):
around an hour later when the commotions started. Pig Pens
sat up on his bed and stared at the door.
He had heard various members of the Dead's traveling circus
passed by in the hallway, but nothing that sounded like this.
He looked over at Tom, who didn't seem to share
pigpens elevated concerns. Muffled raised voices were now coming from
(04:56):
the other side of the door, and Pigpen began a sweating.
An fuck. Only weeks earlier, Jefferson airplane were busted in
the same hotel. Pigpen knew the other members of the
Dead's entourage were holding, and they were never not holding.
A knock came at the door. Pigpen's blood ran cold
and this was it. It was over. No way to
(05:18):
get off scot free again. Another knock, fuck, fock focking.
The door swung open. Two narcotics Asians entered, and it
took a look at the odd couple stationed in the room,
a sweaty goateed cowboy and a handlebar mustache jan who
looked like he belonged pulling rabbits out of a hat somewhere.
And the agents didn't say anything. They just started to
search the room, and pig Pen watched them nervously. He
(05:41):
knew they wouldn't find anything, but he also knew that
that didn't matter when it came to righteous cops and
defiant hippies. He wondered how long his sentence would be
fifteen years twenty. The visions of a backwater Louisiana prison
ran through Pigpen's head, stuck in the oppressive southern heat
while carrying out community the service for the next three decades.
(06:02):
He never should have left northern California. Just as Pig's
mental state was unraveling, Tom, clear minded and sober, began
to casually talk up the agents. Tom discovered that, like him,
the agents were ex air force, and the mutual bond
cut some of the tension in the air, but they
continued their search nonetheless and nothing. Pig and Tom were
(06:26):
both clean. They would not be charged. Jesus. That was
another close one. Pigpen felt a rush of relief. He
walked out of his room, a new lease on life
for some air and a smoke. The scene in the
hallway was eerie. As Pigpen made his way to the
end of the hallway, he passed the rooms of the
rest of the Grateful Dead and their roadies and entourage.
(06:48):
All the doors were thrown open and agents were in
each room tearing through possessions, but Pigpen didn't see a
familiar face in sight. When Pigpen emerged onto Bourbon Street,
he found nine team members of their crew, including several bandmates,
sitting on the sidewalk and handcuffs, and the press was
already on the scene. Cameras clicked and bulbs flashed, and
(07:09):
the papers would say that the band was caught with marijuana,
l s D, barbiturates and dangerous narcotics. The Grateful Dead,
on the other hand, claimed it was nothing but some
reson in prescriptions. Regardless. After being held for eight hours
in a New Orleans jail, all nineteen were released on bail,
aside from Augustus Islesley Stanley ak Bear, so they would
(07:31):
all avoid any serious legal trouble. Bears rap sheet had
finally caught up to him, though he was now looking
at multiple years in prison, and the Grateful Dead would
soon lose their sound man. But losing Bear wasn't the
only thing troubling the Dead. After the New Orleans bust,
the bail money used to spring the detainees depleted vital
travel funds, leaving the group frightfully low on cash. Lenny Hart,
(07:55):
Mickey Hart's father, who had become the Dead's money manager
a few months prior, men as to get the caravan
released from their holding cells for three thousand, seven hundred
and fifty non refundable dollars. It was more than the
Dead had made at their previous show. The band held
a fundraiser at their show of the following night, jamming
with their opener Fleetwood Mac, then collecting funds to retroactively
(08:18):
pay their bail tab. In typical grateful debt fashion, they
even invited their arresting officers. It's all good, man, but
it wasn't okay. The Dead had reached a new level
of notoriety. They found all the terrible trappings of fame
with seemingly none of the benefits. The traveling entity known
as the Grateful Dead was becoming a financial fiasco, and
(08:40):
they were pitiful at managing money, and they simply didn't
understand the cost of business in the rock and roll world.
The lack of a contingency plan in New Orleans was
just more supporting evidence of that. Sure, they wanted to
play more shows, launch bigger tours, buy better sound equipment,
but all that cost money and required actual planning. The
Grateful Dead were essentially list in that department. That's where
(09:03):
Lenny Hart fit in. Lenny work to make sure the
Dead weren't living hand in mouth anymore. Everyone was given
a livable weekly stipend. Pig Pen didn't have a clue
what to do with the cash. He started leaving a
bit to Lenny every week, stashing it away for the
day of The Grateful Dead's train inevitably ran off the tracks.
Pig Pen new it was inevitable because it always seemed
(09:24):
like whatever tracks they were writing were wobbly at best.
And in the midst of their roots rock rebrand, the
Grateful Dead decided it was time to shake up their
lineup yet again, just as they had done with Bob
and Pig a few years prior. The band got together
and decided to let Tom Constantin go. But unlike the
reasoning they provided regarding Bob and Pig, Tom's departure was
(09:47):
about style. He couldn't bring the energy to the stage
that the band needed. It was too calculated, perhaps even
too well trained. Tom Constantin was asked for actually having
his ship together, and the band wanted to start playing
luc again, get back to the soul of the music.
They loved rock and roll, they just didn't sound like
a rock and roll band with Tom on keys. Tom
(10:10):
didn't sweat it. He had already been asked to arrange
music for and off Broadway show called Tara, and the
two parties split amicable. Although Tom had originally been brought
into replace Pig, the two had grown close. Pigs warm
and daring demeanor had one Tom over and they formed
a strong kinship despite being world's apart musically. Pig Pen
(10:31):
even served as Tom's best man at his wedding. But
there was no time to dwell on Tom's departure. Pig
Pen was needed to step back behind the keyboard and
reclaim a piece of his original duties in the band.
For now, the crowd at the Fillmore East let out
(11:13):
an emphatic round of applause. The Grateful Dead had just
gracefully delivered the un characteristically mellow Candy Man, one of
their latest compositions. Fans were still getting used to this
new version of the Dead, but they were digging in.
Jerry leaned into the microphone and told the crowd they
were going to end the night with a gospel tune.
Pig Pen narrowed his eyes, his confidence, which had returned
(11:36):
in full force since the departure of Tom Constantine, course
through his veins, and pig Pen leaned into his mind
and told Jerry to skip it. Jerry tried to laugh
it off, but the crowd was on the Pigpen side. Yeah,
play the blues Man, And Jerry looked back at pig
Pen and grinned, and then turned to the crowd. You
want to hear pig Pen? And the crowd gave a
(11:58):
holdad and Jerry asked again, and they got louder, and
he asked a third time, and the film Moore shook Pigpen, grinned,
polished off his can of beer, and stepped to the
mic with an acoustic guitar. To get the crowd what
they wanted. He gave them the Blues, a solo rendition
of Lightning Hopkins She's Mine. He added his own suggestive
(12:19):
lyrics to it, as well, a couple of lines about
a woodpecker pecking. Pig was feeling it. He was on
stage picking an acoustic crooning some dirty old blues to
the audience. He had the place in the palm of
his hand. This was the ship, This was what pig
Pen always wanted. He hit the instrumental break, bringing it
(12:42):
down real low, before easing into the last verse, and
the protagonist in the narrative of She's Mine leads his
blind girlfriend around. He doesn't care what other people say.
He's happy with this woman. And pig Pen was happy
with his band. His band. Yeah, it was starting to
feel like that again. The tunes were starting to feel
(13:03):
more like The Dead. It wasn't the excess and the
self indulgent music that could have been so focused on,
and they stripped it back all the way back to
its roots. The Dead took more than one page from
the book that the band and Bob Dylan were using.
They emulated any and all music that used old school
vibes from the Civil War right up to the country
(13:25):
tunes of the nineteen fifties. They threw it in a
blender and then strained the contents through their own unique filter.
The music wound up sounding a lot more like the
Grateful Dead sound in the early days, and it was
right in tune with what was going down. What would
later be referred to as Americana was coursing through the
Dead's new compositions. The essence of the country they called
(13:47):
home was right there in the music. The Grateful Dead
just needed to pull back the curtain. In the entire
world needed to pull back the curtain. Seventy wasn't just
the turning of the decades on the calendar. It was
a moment for everyone catched their collective breath. The Dead
were catching their breath, too. But while the music transported
the band's metaphysical mindset, the harsh realities of their terrestrial
(14:10):
situation were inescapable, and they were broke again. They had
just been taken for a ride by someone they had
trusted with complete control of their funds, someone that they
believed had been acting in their best interests for the
past year, someone who wasn't just a member of the
Dead's extended family, but a member of their immediate family,
(14:31):
Lenny Hart. It all started when Lenny pocketed Jerry's paycheck
for his contribution to the Zabrisky Point soundtrack, which had
arrived at the Dead's office. The Dead began to connect
the dots. Pigpen's organ had been repossessed on stage the
year before. The Lenny skim money off the top of
the band's paychecks to open lines of credit with no
(14:51):
bank would have them. Then they found evidence that Lenny
had written checks to himself right out of the Grateful
Dead's collective income to the tune of on dollars. The
band and some of their entourage confronted Lenny in his office.
Mickey was distraught, the rest of the band was piste.
Lenny was given a week to get things in order,
and then he was told to fuck right off. Lenny
(15:14):
did funk right off, but he put nothing in order.
He literally cleared out his office and all the records
he had. He took his desk, the filing cabinets, and
the rest of the furniture and high tiled it to Mexico.
The next time the Dead stepped into Lenny's office, there
was not a scrap of paper remaining. Mickey always wanted
to read the vibes, decided to step away from the
band for a while. He couldn't blame the band for
(15:36):
any hard feelings that they'd had towards his father, which
they wouldn't be able to help feeling towards him, so
he went on sabbatical. By the time he would return
to the fold, pig Pen would be dead. Ungrateful Dead's
funds were exhausted, not that they had much to begin with,
and pig Pen, who had been setting aside some cash
(15:57):
each we'd build up his own savings, and who had
trust to blending with all of it, was without a net.
He didn't spend money, didn't live lavishly. He enjoyed the
little things and thought he was being smart with his dough.
Now he had nothing, nothing but the music. Pig and
the Dead have been running on empty for too long,
exhausted from living paycheck to paycheck, and they were battered, bruised,
(16:18):
and left on a dusty road. So for their next record,
the Grateful Dead had to simplify the process, just as
they had simplified their new tunes. No expensive and overly
complicated recording studios in New York City or l A.
They stayed put in San Francisco and checked in the
PACIFICAI Recording studio. Things were noticeably different right from the beginning.
(16:41):
Pig Pen loved the relaxed setting. In fact, he thrived
in it. It wasn't the blues, but thank fucking god,
it wasn't the tie tied space jazz. The Dead laid
down on their first three records. These tunes pig Pen
could drive with, and he could actually play them too.
But he wasn't only playing. He was contributing. The harper
making vocal of easy wind, the near spiritual organ and
(17:03):
harmonica of the mournful Black Peter, and some good punchy,
chugging honky tonkys sprinkled throughout. Pig Pen's presence was, for
the first time in a long time, felt on a
Grateful Dead recording. The sessions were like walking in the sunshine.
There was an ease to the process. No exploring the
studio for unique sounds, no destruction of equipment or manipulation
(17:25):
of instruments, and no Jerry and Phil spending months upon
months to fine tune the mix. The Grateful Dead swaggered
through the tracks like a group of soldiers who had
just gone through a war. The camaraderie and the trust
in one another led to a communal, open working environment
in the sound of a band that, while relaxed in sound,
was tightened in performance. The Dead simply played, and in
(17:48):
just under two weeks they had transferred their sound and
their current mental state onto wax. One executive Joe Smith
that Warner Brothers heard the opening acoustic strums of the
album's first song, Uncle John's Band, he thought someone was
playing a joke on him. It sounded like a bunch
of hippie cowboys singing a tune about some long forgotten
old tigers around the campfire. It was weary, yet hopeful,
(18:11):
rough around the edges, yet direct. The Grateful Dead had
managed to pull right off the interstate of overblown acid
rock and taken some back road of breezy meditation. They
even add something that resembled a hint too. Working Man's
Dead made it all the way at the number twenty
seven on the Billboard album charts, got played on FM
stations everywhere, and sold exponentially more than anything the group
(18:35):
had put out prior. It was a massive risk, but
it had paid off in the process of completely reconfiguring
their sound, the Grateful Dead pushed out their finest album yet.
Him Pigpen, who had been pushed aside when the Dead
stepped away from the Blues, pushed aside in the studio
as the Dead chased the sound they never quite manifest,
(18:55):
and pushed aside when Tom Constantine came into helping that pursuit.
Had I only found his way back to the center
of the band's sound. Pig Van and the Grateful Dead
had managed to get their train back on track. Now
it was time to ride that train down the road
and with any luck, leave their troubles behind. We'll be
(19:18):
right back after this word word word, Ron pig Pen
mcernan closed his eyes and listened as the wheels of
the train clacked loudly against the rail joints. The sound
reminded him at the times he spent sitting outside the
(19:40):
Inn room back in Pao, alto the beat of acoustic
guitari played down by the train tracks that ran behind
the club, then the rolling rhythm of the locomotive providing
a natural backbeat. As the warm California breeze ran wildly
through his hair. Pig opened his eyes and looked out
the window he was miles from California. Now he lugged
(20:01):
so many miles and sang so many songs since those
early dreams of becoming a blues man, in those more
innocent days of Mother mccree's Uptown jump Champions. Not the
pig minded much. There was something uniquely American about setting
out on the open road, and something even more American
about hitching a ride on a train and shooting off
into the country in parts unknown. Only Pigpen wasn't in America.
(20:26):
This was Canada. Yeah, close enough. The train whizzed by
rolling firms and herds of cattle, wind swept planes for
as far as the eye could see. This wasn't your
typical airplane, bus, hotel tour. This was a different kind
of trip. It's suited Pigpen just fine. He took the
final drag of his cigarette and flipped it off the
back of the train. He pulled the flask from his
(20:48):
back pocket, unscrewed it, and brought it to his lips, empty,
of course it was. Pigpen shipped the last drops out
of the overturned flask and headed back inside. That's him.
As he opened the door, everything hit him at once.
The smell of booze, the haze of smoke, the sound
of music. The train car was full of musicians and
their friends, many of which were currently performing your country
(21:11):
fried version of the Dixie Land standard Careless Love. Down
at the end of the car, Pigpen watched Janice Joplin
and Jerry Garcia harmonize. Janice's voice was raw and ragged.
It didn't matter that the tune was one of a
traditional bluestummers. Of course, she loved country music. Janice had
once told Pigpen, after all, that she was from Texas,
(21:32):
And the wheels turned in Pigpen's head like the wheels
of the train rolling along the tracks. The blues, country, bluegrass, folk,
R and B. That ship wasn't supposed to be separate.
They are all parts of one big sound. That one
big sound stretched from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from
Janie's home in Texas up to wherever the Canada they
(21:53):
were rolling through at the moment. This train wasn't just
a joy ride through the countryside. It was a rolling circus.
And they were calling it the Festival Express. And it
had been organized as a moving concert. Instead of having
hundreds of thousands of kids send on one location and
risk another Altamont. The organizers deciety to put the show
on wheels and delivered to the people one whistle stop
(22:15):
at a time. The hope was up north in Canada,
the bands get a brief respite from the madness unfolding
in the United States. Haltimont Manson should have gone way
dark in the supposed land of the Free. The idealism
of the sixties had always been there to balance out
the violence, but now violence was taking over. This adventure
(22:37):
was designed to avoid that mess entirely. It was an
intentional break from America. Janice the Dead, the Band, Buddy
Guy Mountain, the Flying Burrito Brothers, Delaney and Bonnie. The
only places they'd even entertained a performance for the moment
were north of the border. Pig in the Dead, however,
very much played the part of the Americans, even if
(22:58):
it was a mythic America. They were repper sending. They
were clad in Western ware, knives and all, like outlaws
in the gold Rush, and like cowboys, they're always open
whatever the open road had to offer. The unique format
of the tour also allowed the band's ample amount of
time to spend together something they weren't used to. Instead
of hanging out backstage for a few hours during the show,
(23:19):
the groups would live on top of each other in
train cars for a week. The party never stopped. There
was a blues car, a folk car, a country car,
a rock car. Different jams popped up in every part
of the train, and the musicians would play with whoever
was around. Janis Joplin, for one, saying the praises and
the chorus of Chris Christofferson's Meet and Bobby McGhee Delaney
(23:40):
Bromlett sat down with Jerry Garcia and taught him how
to play a song called going down the Road Feeling Bad,
an old traditional popularized by Woody Guthrie. Assumed both songs
would be staples of The Grateful Dead's live show, and
the whole thing loosened. Pig pen up, hell, it loosened
to everybody up, and so did the booze. He spent
most of days in the blues car, rubbing shoulders with
(24:02):
Buddy Guy and talking music, or firmly positioned in the
bar car, sitting on Canadian whiskey while Janet Study too
were back of tequila and lemons. Someone had set up
an oversized bottle complete with the dispenser on a table
and what had been deemed the country car, and it
became the holy grail everyone who drink from it. It
was the rest of the Dead's first real introduction alcohol,
(24:24):
and everyone was drunk as help, including Jerry. One evening,
Pigpen sat nursing a tall glass of Canadian Club with
his feet kicked up and his hat pulled low. He
wasn't drunk. Pigpen wasn't ever really drunk in any out
of control way. He just got, as Jerry put it,
more mellow, And now he was mellowing out listening to Jerry,
(24:45):
Bob Janis and Rick Danko of the band jam on
some old timey music and it sounded glorious, uplifting and joyous.
The journey was just under a week, but it rejuvenated Pigpen.
His performances on each stop were inspired. He ripped off
transcendent harmonica fills and vocals while the Dead grooved on
new tunes from working Man's Dead. Pigpen wasn't only enjoying
(25:08):
the blues numbers. He was enjoying the new tunes the
Grateful Dead were writing. When it came down to it,
pig wasn't ever really interested in rocking the boat, and
the dead were never really interested in letting their brother
in arms go. Pigpen's second chance at the Grateful Dead
became a rebirth. The train ride felt like a dream,
but Pig was firmly aware that it was indeed reality.
(25:29):
He would have stayed on forever if he could, but
the ride wouldn't go on forever, and neither were pigs.
(26:01):
Twelve months before the Festival Express got on the tracks
of Bentley took its last turn onto a quiet farm road.
The two long Hairs up front, one adorned in a
smart but stylish suit and the other in bell bottoms
and a choice vest, both sporting several expensive rings, had
traveled just over an hour to reach their destination that day,
(26:22):
the end they'd been in sight for months. The two
long Hairs weren't just a couple of hippies of her
joy ride. They're on a mission. And the car pulled
to a stop in front of a large red house
on a pristine estate. Neither Mick Jagger nor Keith Richards
wanted to be where they were, but the job hadn't
been done. They stood, and in erguous crossroads, they had
(26:44):
watched as the original leader of the Rolling Stones became
cooler and colder, fell into a drug confused haze, and
apart from a few moments of inspiration, disengaged entirely from
the music they were creating. Mick and Keith took a
long look at each other. They didn't wait any longer.
Minutes later, they were seated in the home of their
band made for the time being. They smoked cigarettes as
(27:07):
casually as they could and given the circumstances, But as
the last bit of tobacco burned away, they knew it
was time. Like those cigarettes, their host had reached the
end of his rope. He was burnt out. He was
simply no longer up to the task. He was holding
them back, and the Stones were set to head out
on a tour of the States. But the rap sheet
(27:28):
of their host man he wouldn't be able to join them,
and there was only one choice. The bank could make.
Brian gear out. Brian Jones glanced over at Mick and
then at Keith. He nodded, It's not like he wasn't
expecting this news, but fuck there it was set out loud.
(27:49):
Brian started the Rolling Stones in the first place, he
gave them direction, he even chose the bloody fucking name.
But the Stones were no longer his claim. It was
crystal clear that his presence in the group and his
influence on their music had deteriorated. Brian had always thought
of the Stones as a blues group, no more and
no less. Like pig Pen, Brian Jones wanted to play
(28:11):
the music of his heroes, the music that first inspired
him to pick up a harmonica and a guitar, the
music that gave him meaning, They made him feel alive,
the blues, and also like pig Pen, Brian Jones watched
his band slip away right in front of him, But
unlike the Grateful Dead, he wasn't able to hang around
to see where the band would go next, or if
(28:32):
they would ever circle back around to the music he
aspired to make. Mick and Keith offered him the terms
of his termination, and that was that. Brian let his
now former bandmates out of the house, and as the
Bentley pulled away from the estate and charted its course
back towards London, Brian Jones was left on his own.
He walked slowly through his living room and gazed out
(28:54):
into the backyard. The sun was shining brilliantly reflecting off
the water of a swimming pool as Brian reflected on
what had just happened. During the last eight years, he
had formed a band, traveled the world, written hit records,
and ran through the excess in madness of the nineteen sixties.
With his brothers his friends, The Rolling Stones made some
of the greatest albums of all time, with Brian as
(29:15):
their driving creative force. He was versatile, he played dozens
of instruments. His vision and the stones ambition helped them
ascend to the stars like a rocket. They became household
names and left the trail of notoriety that gave them
the title of the most dangerous band in the world.
They shared a connection that was beyond words. They had
lived out their dreams together and now for Brian Jones,
(29:37):
at least, it was all over in the end. Whether
it was the fame, the drugs, or the evolution in
power struggle of the Rolling Stones themselves, Brian Jones just
couldn't handle it. Less than a month later, his lifeless
body would be pulled from the bottom of a swimming
pool and they found traces of sleeping pills and copious
amounts of alcohol present in his blood stream. A night
(30:00):
that had begun with him and his girlfriend hosting friends
had ended in what was deemed quote unquote death by misadventure.
Misadventure that might have been the title of Brian's life story.
Pig Pens story, in many ways, ran parallel to Brian's story.
Both were obsessed with the blues, Both started a band
that originally had played blues music. Both watched as their
(30:22):
bands changed with the times, incorporating new influences that increasingly
marginalized their input into the overall sound. And just like
the blues Men that they both held as a chief influence,
Robert Johnson, both Brian Jones and Ron Pigpen mcernin would
be dead at the age of twenty seven, But before
(30:43):
pigpen soul left the earth, he would have to swallow
the difficult news of the death of a close friend
whose soul would also descend from this planet at the
same ominous and foreboding number. Seven. Um Brennan and This
is the Seven Club Club is hosted and produced by
(31:18):
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 elements by Ryan Spraaker and Henry Lunetta. This episode
was written by ted Oma, story and copy ending by
Pat Healy. Sources for this episode are available at Double
(31:40):
Elvis dot com on the 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. Rocco rolla it now for
your years
Okay. Double Elvis Club is the production of I Heart
Radio and Double Elvis Ron. Pigpen mcernan died at the
age of and he lived a life that was always
meant to go off the tracks. I can give you
(00:22):
twenty seven reasons why that statement is true. Two would
be the number of times he narrowly avoided a possession
rap for drugs, drugs that he had absolutely no desire
to use or even sell. Another four will be the
number of years of savings pig would lose when the
Dead got taken for a financial ride by a trusted
(00:43):
member of their family. Eight more would be the number
of tracks that appeared on The Grateful Dead's fourth studio album,
Working Man's Dead, which turned away from psychedelia, though not
directly back towards pigs Beloved blues. Another eleven would be
the number of days pig Pen and the Grateful Dead
would embark on a cross country journey into the Canadian wilderness,
(01:05):
on a train ride that altered their perspective and their minds.
And two will be the number of Englishmen who had
the unpleasant task of letting an original band member go,
a member who would die a month later and serve
as a grim harbinger of what would await pig Pen
and his good friend all totally on this episode seven
(01:29):
of season five, Possession wraps money Blues riding that train
in Ron Pigpen McCarney, Um, Jake Brennan and this is
the cloth h M. I'd be careful if I were you.
(02:26):
The voice outside the Grateful Dead's New Orleans Hotels startled wrong,
Pigpen mccernell. He wasn't used to security guards handing out
free advice. Pig Pen felt like the rent the cop
was staring into his soul. Be careful. Lots of crazy
things happened around here. No ship, Sherlock. They were in
New Orleans, Les Leon Roulette. The big easiest middle name
(02:49):
was crazy. It was January thirty one. Pig Pen and
his band me Tom Constant, had just returned from a
nearby shop where they had perused antique pistols. Pigpen narrowed
his eyes at the guard. What was lots of crazy
things happened around here? Is supposed to meet? The security
(03:09):
guard grinned like he knew something Pigpen didn't know. Pigpen
decided to brush it off, but couldn't help but feel
like he was being watched. He and Tom walked inside
the hotel. Pig Pen scanned each person he saw. It
was hard to tell if the scattered souls and the
hotel lobby were undercover cops, so just guess the hotel
(03:30):
and question was settled right in the heart of Bourbon Street,
a large brick building with requisite iron porches wrapped around
the facade quintessential French quarter. Pig Pen hoped the grateful
dead weren't about to be quint essentially fucked. Although the
ancient building felt foreign, the feeling pig was getting on
the inside was all too familiar. Pig and Tom ascended
(03:51):
the stairs to find John McIntyre, the dead store manager,
hanging out in an upstairs lobby smoking a cigarette. Pig
Pen were counted as interaction with the security guard, and
pig was sweating. He thought of the bus on the
Hate back in sixty seven. He started worry that once
again he get locked up for something he didn't have
any party. Wouldn't that be just his luck, especially since Tom,
(04:14):
in addition to being the only band member besides Pigpen
who regularly played keys, was also the only band member
besides Pigpen, who didn't regularly partake in the legal narcotics.
John calmed him down, told not to worry. Easier said
than done. Pigpen couldn't shake the feeling that something was
about to go down, and he was right. It was
(04:36):
around an hour later when the commotions started. Pig Pens
sat up on his bed and stared at the door.
He had heard various members of the Dead's traveling circus
passed by in the hallway, but nothing that sounded like this.
He looked over at Tom, who didn't seem to share
pigpens elevated concerns. Muffled raised voices were now coming from
(04:56):
the other side of the door, and Pigpen began a sweating.
An fuck. Only weeks earlier, Jefferson airplane were busted in
the same hotel. Pigpen knew the other members of the
Dead's entourage were holding, and they were never not holding.
A knock came at the door. Pigpen's blood ran cold
and this was it. It was over. No way to
(05:18):
get off scot free again. Another knock, fuck, fock focking.
The door swung open. Two narcotics Asians entered, and it
took a look at the odd couple stationed in the room,
a sweaty goateed cowboy and a handlebar mustache jan who
looked like he belonged pulling rabbits out of a hat somewhere.
And the agents didn't say anything. They just started to
search the room, and pig Pen watched them nervously. He
(05:41):
knew they wouldn't find anything, but he also knew that
that didn't matter when it came to righteous cops and
defiant hippies. He wondered how long his sentence would be
fifteen years twenty. The visions of a backwater Louisiana prison
ran through Pigpen's head, stuck in the oppressive southern heat
while carrying out community the service for the next three decades.
(06:02):
He never should have left northern California. Just as Pig's
mental state was unraveling, Tom, clear minded and sober, began
to casually talk up the agents. Tom discovered that, like him,
the agents were ex air force, and the mutual bond
cut some of the tension in the air, but they
continued their search nonetheless and nothing. Pig and Tom were
(06:26):
both clean. They would not be charged. Jesus. That was
another close one. Pigpen felt a rush of relief. He
walked out of his room, a new lease on life
for some air and a smoke. The scene in the
hallway was eerie. As Pigpen made his way to the
end of the hallway, he passed the rooms of the
rest of the Grateful Dead and their roadies and entourage.
(06:48):
All the doors were thrown open and agents were in
each room tearing through possessions, but Pigpen didn't see a
familiar face in sight. When Pigpen emerged onto Bourbon Street,
he found nine team members of their crew, including several bandmates,
sitting on the sidewalk and handcuffs, and the press was
already on the scene. Cameras clicked and bulbs flashed, and
(07:09):
the papers would say that the band was caught with marijuana,
l s D, barbiturates and dangerous narcotics. The Grateful Dead,
on the other hand, claimed it was nothing but some
reson in prescriptions. Regardless. After being held for eight hours
in a New Orleans jail, all nineteen were released on bail,
aside from Augustus Islesley Stanley ak Bear, so they would
(07:31):
all avoid any serious legal trouble. Bears rap sheet had
finally caught up to him, though he was now looking
at multiple years in prison, and the Grateful Dead would
soon lose their sound man. But losing Bear wasn't the
only thing troubling the Dead. After the New Orleans bust,
the bail money used to spring the detainees depleted vital
travel funds, leaving the group frightfully low on cash. Lenny Hart,
(07:55):
Mickey Hart's father, who had become the Dead's money manager
a few months prior, men as to get the caravan
released from their holding cells for three thousand, seven hundred
and fifty non refundable dollars. It was more than the
Dead had made at their previous show. The band held
a fundraiser at their show of the following night, jamming
with their opener Fleetwood Mac, then collecting funds to retroactively
(08:18):
pay their bail tab. In typical grateful debt fashion, they
even invited their arresting officers. It's all good, man, but
it wasn't okay. The Dead had reached a new level
of notoriety. They found all the terrible trappings of fame
with seemingly none of the benefits. The traveling entity known
as the Grateful Dead was becoming a financial fiasco, and
(08:40):
they were pitiful at managing money, and they simply didn't
understand the cost of business in the rock and roll world.
The lack of a contingency plan in New Orleans was
just more supporting evidence of that. Sure, they wanted to
play more shows, launch bigger tours, buy better sound equipment,
but all that cost money and required actual planning. The
Grateful Dead were essentially list in that department. That's where
(09:03):
Lenny Hart fit in. Lenny work to make sure the
Dead weren't living hand in mouth anymore. Everyone was given
a livable weekly stipend. Pig Pen didn't have a clue
what to do with the cash. He started leaving a
bit to Lenny every week, stashing it away for the
day of The Grateful Dead's train inevitably ran off the tracks.
Pig Pen new it was inevitable because it always seemed
(09:24):
like whatever tracks they were writing were wobbly at best.
And in the midst of their roots rock rebrand, the
Grateful Dead decided it was time to shake up their
lineup yet again, just as they had done with Bob
and Pig a few years prior. The band got together
and decided to let Tom Constantin go. But unlike the
reasoning they provided regarding Bob and Pig, Tom's departure was
(09:47):
about style. He couldn't bring the energy to the stage
that the band needed. It was too calculated, perhaps even
too well trained. Tom Constantin was asked for actually having
his ship together, and the band wanted to start playing
luc again, get back to the soul of the music.
They loved rock and roll, they just didn't sound like
a rock and roll band with Tom on keys. Tom
(10:10):
didn't sweat it. He had already been asked to arrange
music for and off Broadway show called Tara, and the
two parties split amicable. Although Tom had originally been brought
into replace Pig, the two had grown close. Pigs warm
and daring demeanor had one Tom over and they formed
a strong kinship despite being world's apart musically. Pig Pen
(10:31):
even served as Tom's best man at his wedding. But
there was no time to dwell on Tom's departure. Pig
Pen was needed to step back behind the keyboard and
reclaim a piece of his original duties in the band.
For now, the crowd at the Fillmore East let out
(11:13):
an emphatic round of applause. The Grateful Dead had just
gracefully delivered the un characteristically mellow Candy Man, one of
their latest compositions. Fans were still getting used to this
new version of the Dead, but they were digging in.
Jerry leaned into the microphone and told the crowd they
were going to end the night with a gospel tune.
Pig Pen narrowed his eyes, his confidence, which had returned
(11:36):
in full force since the departure of Tom Constantine, course
through his veins, and pig Pen leaned into his mind
and told Jerry to skip it. Jerry tried to laugh
it off, but the crowd was on the Pigpen side. Yeah,
play the blues Man, And Jerry looked back at pig
Pen and grinned, and then turned to the crowd. You
want to hear pig Pen? And the crowd gave a
(11:58):
holdad and Jerry asked again, and they got louder, and
he asked a third time, and the film Moore shook Pigpen, grinned,
polished off his can of beer, and stepped to the
mic with an acoustic guitar. To get the crowd what
they wanted. He gave them the Blues, a solo rendition
of Lightning Hopkins She's Mine. He added his own suggestive
(12:19):
lyrics to it, as well, a couple of lines about
a woodpecker pecking. Pig was feeling it. He was on
stage picking an acoustic crooning some dirty old blues to
the audience. He had the place in the palm of
his hand. This was the ship, This was what pig
Pen always wanted. He hit the instrumental break, bringing it
(12:42):
down real low, before easing into the last verse, and
the protagonist in the narrative of She's Mine leads his
blind girlfriend around. He doesn't care what other people say.
He's happy with this woman. And pig Pen was happy
with his band. His band. Yeah, it was starting to
feel like that again. The tunes were starting to feel
(13:03):
more like The Dead. It wasn't the excess and the
self indulgent music that could have been so focused on,
and they stripped it back all the way back to
its roots. The Dead took more than one page from
the book that the band and Bob Dylan were using.
They emulated any and all music that used old school
vibes from the Civil War right up to the country
(13:25):
tunes of the nineteen fifties. They threw it in a
blender and then strained the contents through their own unique filter.
The music wound up sounding a lot more like the
Grateful Dead sound in the early days, and it was
right in tune with what was going down. What would
later be referred to as Americana was coursing through the
Dead's new compositions. The essence of the country they called
(13:47):
home was right there in the music. The Grateful Dead
just needed to pull back the curtain. In the entire
world needed to pull back the curtain. Seventy wasn't just
the turning of the decades on the calendar. It was
a moment for everyone catched their collective breath. The Dead
were catching their breath, too. But while the music transported
the band's metaphysical mindset, the harsh realities of their terrestrial
(14:10):
situation were inescapable, and they were broke again. They had
just been taken for a ride by someone they had
trusted with complete control of their funds, someone that they
believed had been acting in their best interests for the
past year, someone who wasn't just a member of the
Dead's extended family, but a member of their immediate family,
(14:31):
Lenny Hart. It all started when Lenny pocketed Jerry's paycheck
for his contribution to the Zabrisky Point soundtrack, which had
arrived at the Dead's office. The Dead began to connect
the dots. Pigpen's organ had been repossessed on stage the
year before. The Lenny skim money off the top of
the band's paychecks to open lines of credit with no
(14:51):
bank would have them. Then they found evidence that Lenny
had written checks to himself right out of the Grateful
Dead's collective income to the tune of on dollars. The
band and some of their entourage confronted Lenny in his office.
Mickey was distraught, the rest of the band was piste.
Lenny was given a week to get things in order,
and then he was told to fuck right off. Lenny
(15:14):
did funk right off, but he put nothing in order.
He literally cleared out his office and all the records
he had. He took his desk, the filing cabinets, and
the rest of the furniture and high tiled it to Mexico.
The next time the Dead stepped into Lenny's office, there
was not a scrap of paper remaining. Mickey always wanted
to read the vibes, decided to step away from the
band for a while. He couldn't blame the band for
(15:36):
any hard feelings that they'd had towards his father, which
they wouldn't be able to help feeling towards him, so
he went on sabbatical. By the time he would return
to the fold, pig Pen would be dead. Ungrateful Dead's
funds were exhausted, not that they had much to begin with,
and pig Pen, who had been setting aside some cash
(15:57):
each we'd build up his own savings, and who had
trust to blending with all of it, was without a net.
He didn't spend money, didn't live lavishly. He enjoyed the
little things and thought he was being smart with his dough.
Now he had nothing, nothing but the music. Pig and
the Dead have been running on empty for too long,
exhausted from living paycheck to paycheck, and they were battered, bruised,
(16:18):
and left on a dusty road. So for their next record,
the Grateful Dead had to simplify the process, just as
they had simplified their new tunes. No expensive and overly
complicated recording studios in New York City or l A.
They stayed put in San Francisco and checked in the
PACIFICAI Recording studio. Things were noticeably different right from the beginning.
(16:41):
Pig Pen loved the relaxed setting. In fact, he thrived
in it. It wasn't the blues, but thank fucking god,
it wasn't the tie tied space jazz. The Dead laid
down on their first three records. These tunes pig Pen
could drive with, and he could actually play them too.
But he wasn't only playing. He was contributing. The harper
making vocal of easy wind, the near spiritual organ and
(17:03):
harmonica of the mournful Black Peter, and some good punchy,
chugging honky tonkys sprinkled throughout. Pig Pen's presence was, for
the first time in a long time, felt on a
Grateful Dead recording. The sessions were like walking in the sunshine.
There was an ease to the process. No exploring the
studio for unique sounds, no destruction of equipment or manipulation
(17:25):
of instruments, and no Jerry and Phil spending months upon
months to fine tune the mix. The Grateful Dead swaggered
through the tracks like a group of soldiers who had
just gone through a war. The camaraderie and the trust
in one another led to a communal, open working environment
in the sound of a band that, while relaxed in sound,
was tightened in performance. The Dead simply played, and in
(17:48):
just under two weeks they had transferred their sound and
their current mental state onto wax. One executive Joe Smith
that Warner Brothers heard the opening acoustic strums of the
album's first song, Uncle John's Band, he thought someone was
playing a joke on him. It sounded like a bunch
of hippie cowboys singing a tune about some long forgotten
old tigers around the campfire. It was weary, yet hopeful,
(18:11):
rough around the edges, yet direct. The Grateful Dead had
managed to pull right off the interstate of overblown acid
rock and taken some back road of breezy meditation. They
even add something that resembled a hint too. Working Man's
Dead made it all the way at the number twenty
seven on the Billboard album charts, got played on FM
stations everywhere, and sold exponentially more than anything the group
(18:35):
had put out prior. It was a massive risk, but
it had paid off in the process of completely reconfiguring
their sound, the Grateful Dead pushed out their finest album yet.
Him Pigpen, who had been pushed aside when the Dead
stepped away from the Blues, pushed aside in the studio
as the Dead chased the sound they never quite manifest,
(18:55):
and pushed aside when Tom Constantine came into helping that pursuit.
Had I only found his way back to the center
of the band's sound. Pig Van and the Grateful Dead
had managed to get their train back on track. Now
it was time to ride that train down the road
and with any luck, leave their troubles behind. We'll be
(19:18):
right back after this word word word, Ron pig Pen
mcernan closed his eyes and listened as the wheels of
the train clacked loudly against the rail joints. The sound
reminded him at the times he spent sitting outside the
(19:40):
Inn room back in Pao, alto the beat of acoustic
guitari played down by the train tracks that ran behind
the club, then the rolling rhythm of the locomotive providing
a natural backbeat. As the warm California breeze ran wildly
through his hair. Pig opened his eyes and looked out
the window he was miles from California. Now he lugged
(20:01):
so many miles and sang so many songs since those
early dreams of becoming a blues man, in those more
innocent days of Mother mccree's Uptown jump Champions. Not the
pig minded much. There was something uniquely American about setting
out on the open road, and something even more American
about hitching a ride on a train and shooting off
into the country in parts unknown. Only Pigpen wasn't in America.
(20:26):
This was Canada. Yeah, close enough. The train whizzed by
rolling firms and herds of cattle, wind swept planes for
as far as the eye could see. This wasn't your
typical airplane, bus, hotel tour. This was a different kind
of trip. It's suited Pigpen just fine. He took the
final drag of his cigarette and flipped it off the
back of the train. He pulled the flask from his
(20:48):
back pocket, unscrewed it, and brought it to his lips, empty,
of course it was. Pigpen shipped the last drops out
of the overturned flask and headed back inside. That's him.
As he opened the door, everything hit him at once.
The smell of booze, the haze of smoke, the sound
of music. The train car was full of musicians and
their friends, many of which were currently performing your country
(21:11):
fried version of the Dixie Land standard Careless Love. Down
at the end of the car, Pigpen watched Janice Joplin
and Jerry Garcia harmonize. Janice's voice was raw and ragged.
It didn't matter that the tune was one of a
traditional bluestummers. Of course, she loved country music. Janice had
once told Pigpen, after all, that she was from Texas,
(21:32):
And the wheels turned in Pigpen's head like the wheels
of the train rolling along the tracks. The blues, country, bluegrass, folk,
R and B. That ship wasn't supposed to be separate.
They are all parts of one big sound. That one
big sound stretched from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from
Janie's home in Texas up to wherever the Canada they
(21:53):
were rolling through at the moment. This train wasn't just
a joy ride through the countryside. It was a rolling circus.
And they were calling it the Festival Express. And it
had been organized as a moving concert. Instead of having
hundreds of thousands of kids send on one location and
risk another Altamont. The organizers deciety to put the show
on wheels and delivered to the people one whistle stop
(22:15):
at a time. The hope was up north in Canada,
the bands get a brief respite from the madness unfolding
in the United States. Haltimont Manson should have gone way
dark in the supposed land of the Free. The idealism
of the sixties had always been there to balance out
the violence, but now violence was taking over. This adventure
(22:37):
was designed to avoid that mess entirely. It was an
intentional break from America. Janice the Dead, the Band, Buddy
Guy Mountain, the Flying Burrito Brothers, Delaney and Bonnie. The
only places they'd even entertained a performance for the moment
were north of the border. Pig in the Dead, however,
very much played the part of the Americans, even if
(22:58):
it was a mythic America. They were repper sending. They
were clad in Western ware, knives and all, like outlaws
in the gold Rush, and like cowboys, they're always open
whatever the open road had to offer. The unique format
of the tour also allowed the band's ample amount of
time to spend together something they weren't used to. Instead
of hanging out backstage for a few hours during the show,
(23:19):
the groups would live on top of each other in
train cars for a week. The party never stopped. There
was a blues car, a folk car, a country car,
a rock car. Different jams popped up in every part
of the train, and the musicians would play with whoever
was around. Janis Joplin, for one, saying the praises and
the chorus of Chris Christofferson's Meet and Bobby McGhee Delaney
(23:40):
Bromlett sat down with Jerry Garcia and taught him how
to play a song called going down the Road Feeling Bad,
an old traditional popularized by Woody Guthrie. Assumed both songs
would be staples of The Grateful Dead's live show, and
the whole thing loosened. Pig pen up, hell, it loosened
to everybody up, and so did the booze. He spent
most of days in the blues car, rubbing shoulders with
(24:02):
Buddy Guy and talking music, or firmly positioned in the
bar car, sitting on Canadian whiskey while Janet Study too
were back of tequila and lemons. Someone had set up
an oversized bottle complete with the dispenser on a table
and what had been deemed the country car, and it
became the holy grail everyone who drink from it. It
was the rest of the Dead's first real introduction alcohol,
(24:24):
and everyone was drunk as help, including Jerry. One evening,
Pigpen sat nursing a tall glass of Canadian Club with
his feet kicked up and his hat pulled low. He
wasn't drunk. Pigpen wasn't ever really drunk in any out
of control way. He just got, as Jerry put it,
more mellow, And now he was mellowing out listening to Jerry,
(24:45):
Bob Janis and Rick Danko of the band jam on
some old timey music and it sounded glorious, uplifting and joyous.
The journey was just under a week, but it rejuvenated Pigpen.
His performances on each stop were inspired. He ripped off
transcendent harmonica fills and vocals while the Dead grooved on
new tunes from working Man's Dead. Pigpen wasn't only enjoying
(25:08):
the blues numbers. He was enjoying the new tunes the
Grateful Dead were writing. When it came down to it,
pig wasn't ever really interested in rocking the boat, and
the dead were never really interested in letting their brother
in arms go. Pigpen's second chance at the Grateful Dead
became a rebirth. The train ride felt like a dream,
but Pig was firmly aware that it was indeed reality.
(25:29):
He would have stayed on forever if he could, but
the ride wouldn't go on forever, and neither were pigs.
(26:01):
Twelve months before the Festival Express got on the tracks
of Bentley took its last turn onto a quiet farm road.
The two long Hairs up front, one adorned in a
smart but stylish suit and the other in bell bottoms
and a choice vest, both sporting several expensive rings, had
traveled just over an hour to reach their destination that day,
(26:22):
the end they'd been in sight for months. The two
long Hairs weren't just a couple of hippies of her
joy ride. They're on a mission. And the car pulled
to a stop in front of a large red house
on a pristine estate. Neither Mick Jagger nor Keith Richards
wanted to be where they were, but the job hadn't
been done. They stood, and in erguous crossroads, they had
(26:44):
watched as the original leader of the Rolling Stones became
cooler and colder, fell into a drug confused haze, and
apart from a few moments of inspiration, disengaged entirely from
the music they were creating. Mick and Keith took a
long look at each other. They didn't wait any longer.
Minutes later, they were seated in the home of their
band made for the time being. They smoked cigarettes as
(27:07):
casually as they could and given the circumstances, But as
the last bit of tobacco burned away, they knew it
was time. Like those cigarettes, their host had reached the
end of his rope. He was burnt out. He was
simply no longer up to the task. He was holding
them back, and the Stones were set to head out
on a tour of the States. But the rap sheet
(27:28):
of their host man he wouldn't be able to join them,
and there was only one choice. The bank could make.
Brian gear out. Brian Jones glanced over at Mick and
then at Keith. He nodded, It's not like he wasn't
expecting this news, but fuck there it was set out loud.
(27:49):
Brian started the Rolling Stones in the first place, he
gave them direction, he even chose the bloody fucking name.
But the Stones were no longer his claim. It was
crystal clear that his presence in the group and his
influence on their music had deteriorated. Brian had always thought
of the Stones as a blues group, no more and
no less. Like pig Pen, Brian Jones wanted to play
(28:11):
the music of his heroes, the music that first inspired
him to pick up a harmonica and a guitar, the
music that gave him meaning, They made him feel alive,
the blues, and also like pig Pen, Brian Jones watched
his band slip away right in front of him, But
unlike the Grateful Dead, he wasn't able to hang around
to see where the band would go next, or if
(28:32):
they would ever circle back around to the music he
aspired to make. Mick and Keith offered him the terms
of his termination, and that was that. Brian let his
now former bandmates out of the house, and as the
Bentley pulled away from the estate and charted its course
back towards London, Brian Jones was left on his own.
He walked slowly through his living room and gazed out
(28:54):
into the backyard. The sun was shining brilliantly reflecting off
the water of a swimming pool as Brian reflected on
what had just happened. During the last eight years, he
had formed a band, traveled the world, written hit records,
and ran through the excess in madness of the nineteen sixties.
With his brothers his friends, The Rolling Stones made some
of the greatest albums of all time, with Brian as
(29:15):
their driving creative force. He was versatile, he played dozens
of instruments. His vision and the stones ambition helped them
ascend to the stars like a rocket. They became household
names and left the trail of notoriety that gave them
the title of the most dangerous band in the world.
They shared a connection that was beyond words. They had
lived out their dreams together and now for Brian Jones,
(29:37):
at least, it was all over in the end. Whether
it was the fame, the drugs, or the evolution in
power struggle of the Rolling Stones themselves, Brian Jones just
couldn't handle it. Less than a month later, his lifeless
body would be pulled from the bottom of a swimming
pool and they found traces of sleeping pills and copious
amounts of alcohol present in his blood stream. A night
(30:00):
that had begun with him and his girlfriend hosting friends
had ended in what was deemed quote unquote death by misadventure.
Misadventure that might have been the title of Brian's life story.
Pig Pens story, in many ways, ran parallel to Brian's story.
Both were obsessed with the blues, Both started a band
that originally had played blues music. Both watched as their
(30:22):
bands changed with the times, incorporating new influences that increasingly
marginalized their input into the overall sound. And just like
the blues Men that they both held as a chief influence,
Robert Johnson, both Brian Jones and Ron Pigpen mcernin would
be dead at the age of twenty seven, But before
(30:43):
pigpen soul left the earth, he would have to swallow
the difficult news of the death of a close friend
whose soul would also descend from this planet at the
same ominous and foreboding number. Seven. Um Brennan and This
is the Seven Club Club is hosted and produced by
(31:18):
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 elements by Ryan Spraaker and Henry Lunetta. This episode
was written by ted Oma, story and copy ending by
Pat Healy. Sources for this episode are available at Double
(31:40):
Elvis dot com on the 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. Rocco rolla it now for
your years
Host
Jake Brennan
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