MY VIEW FROM THE STAGE This is my story of what I think will be the most memorable day in my life. Please excuse me if I do a bit of name-dropping. It all started Saturday night, the 12th of August. It was about a quarter to ten and I was at the Icon in San Francisco, setting up my gear to play a gig with a band that I'm in called Haunted By Waters. I had been thinking about Jerry Garcia a lot ever since the news of his death hit me Wednesday morning. I had decided that in his honor, I would try to play the best that I could, not be as self- conscious as I usually am, and just generally be happy and thankful. Soon my fellow band member, Bean, comes in. Now Bean is also in a band called "D'Cückoo" which too is from the Bay Area. They have a couple of CD's out and have worked with the likes of Brian Eno and other greats, including Mickey Hart. I went up to her and said hello and was mentioning how I have been thinking of Jerry and probably have mentioned his name more in one week than I ever have. She smiled and said, "Do you want to mention it one more time?" She went on: " I just got a call from my friend Chalo and he said that Mickey just called him and wanted to get a bunch of drummers together and do a procession at the memorial tomorrow. Chalo asked me to join him but I can't do it, but I did give him your name and said that you'd be interested. He wants you to bring a snare drum. Zakir will be there and..." "What ?!" I asked. "Are you kidding?!" "No, really" she said. "But I don't have a snare drum!" "You can use the one from our drum set", she said as she handed me a post-it note which read: "Meet @ 260 5th St. Meet at BGP bet Howard & Folsom @ 8:00-8:15. Bus leaves @ 8:30." A bus?!! I went to the phone and called this guy Chalo. I got his machine but left a somewhat nervous message explaining that Bean had told me to call him and that I would be there in the morning as directed. Time to start the gig. I played better than I have in a long time. My feelings of excitement at what I was about to be part of was joined by my feelings of sadness of what I was about to be part of. Here I was about to be in the company of possibly all of my musical heroes, yet this was a time to pay our respects to Jerry, not to be star struck. I woke up instantly at six the next morning. I hadn't had much sleep, but I needed time to figure out how I was going to make a strap for this snare drum I had borrowed. I don't remember if I ate anything and I must have had some coffee, though I don't remember that either. All I could think about was that I HAD to get there by eight and I HAD to have all my shit together that I would need later as well as what I needed that morning. My love gave me a ride to BGP and as we stopped, pointed and said, "There's Mickey". I went up to Mickey, shook his hand, introduced myself and said that I was looking for Chalo. He said that he wasn't here yet and to just hang out. So there I was with my backpack and snare drum trying to not act as nervous as I felt. I didn't know anyone and I found myself shivering a bit, a combination of my nervousness as well as from the chilly morning air. A few people were gathered there and one by one I asked them if they were Chalo, as if finding him would somehow make my being there more official. I believe that Baba Olatunji was the first to arrive. Then Zakir Hussain and his daughter. Armando Peraza was off talking to someone in the parking lot when I heard someone mention the name Michael. Sure enough I looked over and there was Michael Shrieve walking around. Everyone was shaking hands and asking how each other and their families were doing. My nervousness was slowly being replaced by a sense of friendship and caring. These weren't stars here this morning. These were friends gathering to pay respect to a fellow musician. I walked up to Zakir, one of my newest heroes and introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Zakir" he said as if I didn't already know that. Soon a car drove up and I recognized the passenger as a guy that I had seen at drum circles before. Shale Love is his name and we started talking about what we were about to be part of. Soon a guy came by with a bag and handed each of us a backstage pass and a clip. Another van drove up and someone said, "Finally, there's Chalo." I walked up to him but before I could say anything, he looked at me with a sense of instant recognition and said, "Hello. Rhan, right?" "Yes. Hi Chalo" I said. "Glad to meet you." I then realized that he must have seen the snare drum I was carrying thus explaining his recognition of me. Gee, for minute there I thought I was famous or something. Well, the limo busses were ready. The drums were packed up in the storage compartment and we were all seated. Why then weren't we going? Well, Mickey had decided that we all needed coffee and had sent someone (I believe it was his son ) out to get it. We had to wait until the coffee arrived, get out of the busses, get a cup, and then get back in. Everyone was talking on the way over. Armando was speaking in Spanish to someone I didn't recognize and Shale and I were talking to this guy across the aisle. He said he lives in LA and was having dinner the night before when he got the call. He drove all the way up here through the night, drinking iced cappuccino, trying not to nod off while driving. This was history happening here and we all knew it. The driver was a no-nonsense kind a guy who had directed us all to get our drums in the back and get in the bus. He didn't say much throughout the drive to the Polo Fields, but when we got to the entrance that was blocked off and guarded by security, that all changed. Do you remember in Star Wars when Obi Wan Kenobe told the guards something to the effect of "This is not the man you are looking for. We are okay to pass."? Hypnotized by the "force" the guards repeated what he said and let them through. Well, when we got there the security guys said, "Sorry, but no busses are allowed." "We're with BGP." the driver said. The security guys looked a little confused but said, "We're not supposed to let any vehicles in." "We're with the Grateful Dead!" the driver said with a bit more authority. The guards pulled back the barriers and let us through. We pulled up the area near the tunnel that leads to the Polo Fields and got out. Mickey strapped on one of the "surdos" (the BIG bass drums used for the Samba) and gathered us all around. He showed us a simple rhythm that we would be playing and told us all to play it slow and not to rush. Relax, he told everyone. I looked around and realized that we had been joined by Phil and Bill. Bill had a big talking drum that he was going to play, but the first time he went to hit it, the whole head ripped off. "It was an old drum", he said and asked Shale "do you have anything else in your bag? Some claves or something?" Up drove a car and out stepped Vince. A guy in a wheelchair called to Phil and told him how much the Dead made him happy. Phil talked with this guy for a long time, smiling and shaking his hand and I could see that this guy was once again filled with the love that the Dead can bring. I was standing next to Zakir who was playing his little hand drum that he opens his shows with and I asked him how in the world does he play so damn fast. I said " I know that this isn't the time for a lesson, but how should I be using my fingers to get those rolls that you do?" He said, "Well, the triplets are the easiest" and he showed me how to do them. "See, you need to have total control and strength in each finger, he explained. Look who just showed up. Pete Escovedo and his daughter Sheila E. I went up to him and introduced myself and in the same pleasant way as Zakir, said "Hi. I'm Pete." I looked around and realized that I was surrounded by more famous and accomplished people than I thought I would ever meet in a life time, let alone in the last hour and a half. Meanwhile, Shale had given his camera to a friend to take some pictures of us all together. I hope they came out. We practiced a bit, all the while Mickey emphasising the use of dynamics. What we would be doing he told us, would be s-l-o-w-l-y playing a samba-like rhythm through the tunnel, past the crowd, and up to the stage. Baba would do some chanting while we played v-e-r-y quietly and then on cue we would stop and people would do some talking about Jerry. I looked through the tunnel and though I couldn't see all of the crowd, I realized that soon I would be in front of more people than I ever had been in front of. Somehow, I wasn't nervous anymore. We were all there for Jerry. Security guards held back the crowd as we started playing and headed out of the tunnel into the sunlight. I could see the outstretched arms, and I could hear the cries of "We love you" and I could see the looks of both joy and sadness reflected on each and every face that I saw. I felt a sense of pride and honor that I never before could have imagined. The stage was filling up and right when I was about to step up, a security guard said " The stage is too full. The rest of you wait here till it's over and then you can lead the procession out" What?! We got this far to be left out at the last minute? "Please let us up there. There are only three of us left!" we asked. "Well, Go on" he said somewhat reluctantly and we quickly took our places as if he might change his mind and not let us go on. I stood there looking out at everyone. All of you. My friends without names but my friends no less. My friends holding pictures of Jerry, my friends clapping, my friends crying. I was numb. As I listened to Mickey tell everyone that it was now up to them to carry on the love and energy that the Dead had been giving for all these years, I thought about what I was going to do. I listened as you all did, as one by one, band members and associates told us all what Jerry meant to them and I realized that perhaps this wasn't just about Jerry. It was about all of us. Caring, loving, giving, and most of all, appreciating the moment. Right now. That is how we can best remember Jerry. Mickey signaled us all to begin the all so familiar rhythm we were to play next. He had told us all earlier (mostly to those not familiar with the tradition) that when we started to play this, everyone would start singing "you know our love will not fade away" and of course that's exactly what happened. I thought for sure that I would start to cry , but instead I just kept playing steadily and slowly. I felt so great at that moment. Mickey looked at me and said "Relax". When we reached the backstage area and stopped playing, we all dispersed. After finding the driver of the bus, I got my backpack out and went over to one of the white tents to see what was inside. Inside was a wonderful catered lunch with all sorts of salads and pasta and of course, Ben and Jerry's "Cherry Garcia" . I had a coke and hungrily chowed down on what I guess, was the first food I had eaten that day. I walked around and thanked each and every person I could. I found Chalo and thanked him for inviting me. I saw Michael Shrieve walking around, thanked him and told him how much he helped shape my adolescence. He seemed a little embarassed by my declaration. "Really" I said and he thanked me. He was really a nice guy. I also took time to thank the higher powers that be for allowing me to be there with all of these great people and for all of us to have had the pleasure of Jerry's music for all of these years. And as I peeked out at the crowd from behind the stage, I felt comfort in knowing that this couldn't be the end. All this caring, all this joy... I knew then that all this love simply will never fade away. Thank you all, wherever you are, whoever you are. I love you all. Rhan Wilson Return to Rhan Wilson's Home Page |
