Deadheads flock to Monterey for Furthur
http://www.montereyherald.com/local/ci_19075624If the "Summer of Love," 1967, dissolved into whatever kind of world we live in today, nobody told the Deadheads.
More than four decades later, they flocked to the Monterey County Fairgrounds during the weekend for a two-night gig by a band called Furthur, fronted by Phil Lesh and Bob Weir, two original members of The Grateful Dead.
The fairgrounds has been a sacred venue for rock aficionados since the Monterey Pop Festival introduced much of the music world to Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Otis Redding and other legendary performers in June 1967.
The Grateful Dead was there, too, led by the late, great Jerry Garcia (guitar and vocals), and featuring Weir (guitar, vocals), Lesh (bass, vocals), Ron "Pigpen" McKernan (keyboards, harmonica, vocals) and Bill Kreutzmann (drums).
The core of that group stayed together for 30 years, playing cheap or free concerts all over the world, trailed by hordes of fans — Deadheads — who, in many cases, arranged their lives so they could see every show in every city.
"There's a line from a Grateful Dead song that says, 'Once in a while you can get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right,'" said Peter Lull, 35, who lives in Big Sur, Berkeley and Squaw Valley, and says he watched at least 150 shows that featured Jerry Garcia.
"Grateful Dead shows are about the hedonism within the context of community and expanded consciousness. There's a loving awareness among multi-generations
of fans of The Dead — an appreciation of each other that exists within the celebration. (Deadheads) look out for each other and enhance each other's experiences." Garcia, the heart and soul of The Dead, died Aug. 9, 1995, but remains a messiah figure to the original Deadheads and their descendants, who continue to follow Weir and Lesh wherever they're booked to play. The scene outside the fairgrounds before Furthur took the stage wasn't just reminiscent of Haight-Ashbury, the famous San Francisco intersection that became the heartbeat of the hippie movement in the mid-'60s — it was the real thing. The vast majority of those milling along the sidewalks on Fairground Road were dyed-in-the-wool Deadheads who would have fit perfectly into the scene at The Haight 44 years ago. Indeed, some who were actually part of The Summer of Love are still following the music, wearing their thinning, gray hair long and wild over tie-dyed T-shirts. Others are 20-, 30-, or 40-somethings who, somewhere along the line, became mesmerized not so much by Weir and Lesh, but by the vibe of the Deadhead community. Lull describes part of the Deadhead movement as "people who maybe were disenfranchised from their own, traditional family environments and found an opportunity for friendship, camaraderie and brotherhood within a very accepting community." "I would never travel 14 hours, three weekends in a row, to do anything other than this," said Vermont native Lizzy Farley, a 20-year-old domestic exchange student at Pacific Northwest College of Art in Oregon. "But there's some kind of crazy energy surrounding this and I feel like I have to do it. Everybody I've talked to knows everybody else. Everybody's connected and wonderful things just keep happening." Deadheads often travel together — sharing money, food, transportation, clothing and anything else another Deadhead needs — moving from concert to concert without tickets, or lodging, or plans, other than to find a way to see the show. "It has to do with freedom," said Todd Tholke, a 44-year-old Haight-Ashbury street musician who has seen 450 Dead concerts. "It's a bliss, a vibe that goes all over the country, and The Dead is the only band that creates it." "I feel like I was born in the wrong era," said Devon Swinburne, a Portland State University student who made her pilgrimage to Monterey for both shows. "It's not just about the music — it's this whole community that's here to support you, and it's a circular thing." Lull and his brother, Chris, created a website (www.gankmore.com) where they have archived audio of every Grateful Dead show from 1965-95 for no commercial purpose. He is quick to say that the Weir/Lesh band isn't the same as The Dead. "Jerry Garcia was the virtuoso. He played improvisationally, which is why people could see him again and again," Lull said. "Jerry played The Warfield 10 times in 14 days, sold out every show, and it was the same people who were going every night." The Warfield Theater is in San Francisco. Without tickets in hand, the Deadheads mingle among their own community, asking each other if they might have one to spare. (Lull says he has never, ever been shut out, and says Deadheads usually find a way, and they help others do the same.) "I need a miracle right now," said Alabama native Jessica Hunter, 22, extending her index finger skyward to alert others that she was desperate for a ticket. "But miracles happen at these concerts. They happen all the time." And if the miracle doesn't come? "You hang out and dance outside with amazing people," said Farley. "It's really a wonderful thing." -- Dennis Taylor can be reached at dtaylor@montereyherald.com or 646-4344. .
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