Dead Man's Curve
And our tenure there in the Richmond cottage was tenuous, as the landlord might not like us so much despite a lease, because the neighbor up front who was a mail man thought he saw my photo in the Chronicle for that Be-In.
(I'll insert a photo here of me at the time, and you'll see what I mean, but I'm on a borrowed computer right now ... )
No! I can't insert the photo I wanted to, so I'll stick one in of Doug Green instead. My old friend Doug died a few days ago and I am remembering him today as I write about 1967.
(I forget what I was saying right then because blogger took away my post and I must recreate my thoughts).
Oh yes. I was selling my record collection in 1967 at a Berkeley book and record store and the clerk kind of liked me because we had a similar world view and he would joke with me as he set my records in a pile to sort through ... then I ...
(wrote something about how ...
OH I REMEMBER!!)
When I first heard from my sister the name of the guy who was going to produce Frank's first record, I said he had the name of a basketball. And I figured that he had to be related to that family to be so rich as to produce records ... I knew by then that Bob Dylan's first lp had cost $300-500 to produce, and that was one guy with material, a harmonica and guitar. And the Beach Boys at that time, some of their sessions for a single were running into $800 (because they were 4 guys with material, harmonies, and instruments, but they needed fill-in musicians for the background and they were union scale). And I knew that price of $800 because Jan Berry used to call me on the phone sometimes back then and he had the real dirt about studio pricing.
So Frank in getting a union musician with a history of success (playing on Elvis records) would be stretching the budget.
But then as I was selling "Freak Out!" I said to myself, "Emmet Sargent" I don't believe I even heard a cello anywhere on that 2-disc set, because it was so layered and actually was kind of hard to listen to all of a piece, and I would lose track of where I was sometimes.
So I said what the heck and sold it. But I hated bankers that day ... and those bloodsuckers didn't get my e.e. cummings.
It didn't matter a whit I sold Frank's record, because right about that time I met Doug Green in front of the University and he roped me into handing out some handbills for the Family Dog (he was a friend of Chet Helms.
(And don't you worry, I'll post a photo of Jan Berry to prove to you I knew him, too, although I have no tapes of our phone conversations. Just as soon as I get off this borrowed computer.)
I'd had to sell Jan and Dean's records that day, too, to satisfy those evicting rotten bastards at the bank in Arizona, the promo records the blond handsomes personally handed to me at the Rainbow Ballroom sometimes and even the original Jan & Arnie that Jan gave me .... goddamn those bankers straight to hell!!!