About those famous musicians…

A silly Facebook meme asked what famous musicians we’ve met. There were so many, I couldn’t choose. I liked Allegra Broughton’s (Solid Air) idea of telling the backstories of how we met. Much more interesting than a vanilla list.

After I posted a partial list, someone asked me how come I’d met so many musicians, I said mostly it came down to time and place. Many nearly famous rock musicians played at our high school assemblies and political rallies (Class of 1970—we made the 6 o’clock news when we shut down the Marin County draft board). From the Tubes, Moby Grape, Talking Heads, Country Joe to John Cipollina. So we thought hobnobbing with musicians was normal. 

After the Summer of Love, when utopia began to sour, and society as we knew it had the DTs, the rock musicians and hangers-on began to flee the Haight in San Francisco for Marin County, they invaded our tiny little valley. We all had to learn to live with each other, which was an uneasy compromise. Old redneck school met hippiedom. It was not love at first sight. And I was not at all starstruck. If anything, I was angry that our valley had been invaded. 

The influx of new people stretched and tore the warp and weft of our bucolic valley. And when Tam school district took away our buses (too expensive, they said), we had to hitchhike in order to get to school. We demonstrated, we walked to and from school—but it was 17 miles each way! I was exhausted. I took up hitchhiking. And the only folks that would stop to pick us up were the rock musicians. Never the ranchers who even knew us. No solidarity there.

I grew up in west Marin so I met many of the musicians while I was hitchhiking home to Forest Knolls. I thumbed rides with Van Morrison, Jesse Colin Young, Sons of Champlin (our main lid connection), Quicksilver Messenger Service, Big Brother and the Holding Company, and of course, Janis—many of them lived on my road. Carlos Santana was always good for a ride. Janice never stopped for us, but then she only had a two-seater Porsche. She always braked for young men hitchhiking.

Linda Ronstadt, Grace Slick, most of Jefferson Airplane, Maria Muldaur all lived in nearby hamlets at one time or another. When Jefferson Airplane moved to Woodacre, they hung a model biplane that was featured on one of their albums from an oak tree.

I met many, if not all of the Grateful Dead—both living and dead, Micky Hart was a neighbor both in Forest Knolls, and later in Forestville—we boarded his girlfriend’s horse. Later, poor Jerry Garcia was in rehab at Forest Farm Camp, renamed Serenity Farm, so we saw him dawdling down the hill to the little grocery store in Forest Knolls to get his daily fix of Häagen-Dazs, or Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream, right before he died.

Bobby Darin was a very good friend of my mom’s. I tried to play If I were a Carpenter for him on my Palamino Pony guitar. He was not impressed, I was 12, but he showed me an E minor progression chord I was having trouble with. I met Pete, Mike & Peggy Seeger at several venues. I must’ve been radiant with joy because after one concert in Grass Valley, Mike Seeger came up to me and gave me a huge bear hug, and wept on my shoulder. Ramblin’ Jack Elliott used to hang out in downtown Forest Knolls. He liked watching all the girls on horseback. I was one of them.

I used to see Kate Wolf in my hometown at the Forest Knolls post office. She was living in her white Ford falcon station wagon at one point. She renamed our Indian rock, Spirit Rock, and it’s called that to this day. Annoying, but more politically correct. And then she moved to Sonoma County where I saw her often. My friend, Don Coffin was married to her at the time. I found her music to be somewhat dreary. We didn’t know that she was dying of leukemia at the time. Gone too soon. 

I used to volunteer at the Kate Wolf Music Festival in Laytonville, so I met many musicians there as well, including Taj Mahal, Donovan, Tom Paxton, Rosalee Sorrells, Gregg Brown while we were volunteering at the Bread and Roses booth.

But back to my Marin story. Fresh out of Junior College, I worked several years for Joan Baez’s sister, Mimi Fariña at Bread & Roses in Mill Valley, and I met many musicians there too. Especially at the big festivals. John Trudell, Country Joe, Theo Bikel, Emmylou Harris, Jackson Brown, Steve Goodman, Banana from the Youngbloods, etc. Huey Lewis, and Alex Call of Clover. You know the song, 867-5309 Call Jenny.

In those days Marin was still a small place. I met Mick from Fleetwood Mac—while cleaning his house. And Peter Tork and probably Micky Dolenz, coming home from school, we helped an inebriated Peter Tork find his front porch in Fairfax. Dancing to Captain Beefheart at Smiley’s in Bolinas. Him coming by to say hello to us. Carlos Santana—picked me up hitching to school. Phil Ochs while I was babysitting. Ok, so I was 12. 

When I was much younger yet, my mom was living in Sausalito. While she was at the Gate Playhouse, either as an actress or costume designer, the Smothers Brothers were my babysitters. I adored Tommy. I remember parties on their houseboat. I remember being the only child dancing to the Limelighters and Lou Gottleib, and someone plinking on the banjo—was it Tommy? I was six.

So many musicians, and I haven’t even gotten to the Irish musicians yet. I met Cathal from the Boys of the Lough while sitting at the bar at the Inn of the Beginning. He gave me his D tin whistle. I still have it. And when I was 16, at an after party with my aunt, grandmother, and her sisters at the Jack Parr Hotel, in San Francisco, Ronnie Drew of the Dubliners, tried to match me up with Luke Kelly, it was oil and water. I was 16. Paddy Maloney from the Chieftains met my granny and they talked Irish together. I was all agog, as Barry Lyndon had just come out with their magical musical score. 

When I was going to San Francisco State in 1974, there were a series of noon concerts that nobody showed up for to so I got to have coffee with Peter Paul and Mary, as well as Hoyt Axton, and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott. I did not seek out Rod McKuen, poor man had an audience of hecklers. 

For some reason, Hoyt gave me his autograph. Not that I asked for it. Much later when I graduated with a Master’s from San Francisco State in 2000, Peter Yarborough was awarded an honorary degree, he handed me my diploma, and I mentioned our meeting decades ago. We held up the graduation line as we caught up, and he gave me a resounding kiss on both cheeks.

Later, it also helped being a photographer and a writer too. I met many musicians while on my rounds looking for interesting photos. I met Kenny Rogers at the Luther Burbank Center for the Arts, in Santa Rosa. They had called me in to take photos of Kenny with his friends, and he comped me into the concert. Thoroughly nice man. I never expected to enjoy his music, but I had a blast. 

I met Dave Brubeck at the Russian River Jazz Fest. We discovered we had horses in common. I did a story on him for The Paper. He sent me a thank you letter. I met Etta James, Blossom Dearie, Bob Doboro, Eartha Kitt, etc., we were all backstage for three days. You get to know people hanging out backstage. I knew diddlysquat about jazz, but I loved being backstage listening the musicians swap stories and reminisce.

When I was living in Sonoma County, I met BB King, Bo Diddly, Chuck Berry, Norton Buffalo, (SC Blues Festival), Charlie Musselwhite—a friend of my neighbor’s, another bluesman. Kenny Rogers, David LaFlamme— he used to pump gas in Guerneville, and all I could think about was his poor, beautiful violinist’s hands. I met Jello Biafra who sounded like he was channeling Meatloaf—I made tickets for him while I was at Sonoma State. 

At the Cotati Cabaret, I met Clifton Chenier and his son who was outside smoking a doobie when someone backing out of a parking spot, hooked onto my VW bumper, and dragged the Bug around the parking lot, nearly taking it with them as they were leaving. I was screaming like a banshee with murderous intent so he had to hold me back, my arms and legs flailing, as the police arrived. 

Johnny Otis of Hand Jive fame sought me out—I used to run a poetry series in his cafe in Sebastopol. I met Cian Ciaran from Super Furry Animals at a week-long party after my poetry reading in Point Arena. Herbie Handcock—took my name tag at American-Soviet Glasnost event as a keepsake. It said Maureen Hurley, Poet. Tom Waits and I cooked sweet potato French fries at a friend’s birthday party….antisocial dude. I taught his kids art at the LBC one summer, so I saw him twice daily. Never even a brusque hello.

I even met Bob Dylan—we shook his hand while his tour bus was at a stoplight after his concert in SF. I could go on…. I didn’t do any of the musicians, though I certainly had ample opportunity. I just didn’t roll that way. But I can’t say the same for doing doobies with them. Not to mention hitching a ride on Further with Ken Kesey. What a long, strange trip it was. Onward.