Stories of Our Own…My Last Grateful Dead Show (6/27/15)

Good thing you can't see my face...

The day started off terribly, I wasn’t prepared for the ill feelings and mixed emotions of leaving the family at home while I took The BART to Levi Stadium. That was the plan, that had been the plan all along because we could not afford scalper priced tickets, as well I had only one press pass for Saturday night and one ticket in the 200 section for Sunday (a Deadhead friend sold me his extra mail-order for face value) night. It came down a family vote six weeks ago; do we all venture to Santa Clara, I go to the shows while the family hangs in the parking lot OR do we invest in buying tickets for Phish at Shoreline in the end of July? Phish is our family band, The Grateful Dead was what dad (me) listens to and tells old stories about, but it’s not their bag. However, when I got up, got showered and dressed and it was time to get me to the BART station (about an hour drive from the farmhouse), my wife and kids were a bit envious and some friction between us sparked. I ended up going alone, but left with a sour taste in my mouth and bad feeling on my brow. About an hour into my commute, when my wife got back home, we talked for over an hour. Kissing and making up, I reminded her that I bought all five shows from Nugstv, they could stream the shows at home. I was at The Great America Theme Park, right next to The Levi Stadium complex, when my phone started to beep; I had 13% battery remaining and no back up battery!

One Last Shakedown Street...

It was about half past three when I got to the parking lot, I went walking and wandering alone, mildly looking at everyone’s lovely wares and hoping to run into a few old friends. Keeping an eye out for someplace to charge my android, I came across an empty space so I sat down to think and dream in the mild sunshine for a short spell. Sitting there, reading the email regarding how to pick up my press pass, I looked into my backpack for my wallet; it was not there! Shit, I tore apart my backpack, pulling everything out in an effort to find my thin leather ID wallet. I had cash, I keep my cash in three discreet places (my pocket for spending, my secret hiding place in my backpack for back-up and in the secret fold of my Peace cap, for emergency).

Still groovy in The Parking Lot!

No wallet, nothing except one copy of my book to show for ID and now my phone had 5% battery left! I gathered my shit quickly and went bolting for the customer service window, but there was a long line when I got there. I walked to the far side of the stadium, near the area where the trucks were parked and I could see several RV’s I recognized; they were GDP, so I went up to a security dude, my book in hand and told him I was covering the show, I had a press pass but no ID. I was certain he would rebuff me, send me on my way, but much to my surprise, he made a radio call to his supervisor. Twenty minutes later, a familiar face came walking to the traffic horse I was leaning upon, it was my friend from GDP and he escorted me into the stadium!

Shakedown Street...

The Core Four
27 June 2015

Once inside this massive complex, it didn’t seem like a stadium inside, it was like a large corporate labyrinth of hallways, private rooms and many places I was not allowed to trample through. It was a little past 4 in the afternoon, at least three hours before show time and an hour and half before the “press reception” was opened. I was looking for a discrete place to have myself a 420 bowl but none was to be found. At one point, while I was walking through a large garage like space, a golf cart whizzed behind me and a several people pointed at me and yelled “Phil!”; I thought they were talking to me until I realized it was Phil Lesh who zipped behind me on the golf cart! I saw his head from behind, big deal! I continued walking around, keeping an eye open for a chill space and place to charge my phone, but still having no luck. The long and short of it, by the time I found the room where the press reception was being held, everyone was filing out of the conference room. I poked my head inside, grabbed a couple bottles of water and a large strawberry and spied an outlet at last. I no sooner had pulled the charging cord from my bag when one of those bouncer sized dudes from Elite Security walked into the empty room and made me scat! I left and continued just walking around where I was allowed to walk until show time. I was standing at the end of a corridor that went to the backstage area when Bill Kruetzman walked past me and I said, “Hey Billy!” and “Have a good show!” Kruetzman touched the brim of his ball cap as he passed and (I swear) looked me in the eye! Big deal. By the time the music started, I was squished at the back end of this long hallway, I could only see the beams of the lighting structure when the music started and despite my lame efforts to push closer, it’s not me to shove past others rudely.

Levi Stadium...mega size!

The fact the event was in a mega sized corporate stadium didn’t really bother me as much as I thought it would, but then again, I came in through the back door on the kind graces of a friend within The Grateful Dead organization. In my imagination I had a stage size view of the show, looking over Hornsby and watching Trey and Bobby, the huge mega stadium of darkness and colorful shadows blended into background like a trippy, moving human wave; the reality for me, was far different. I was restricted during the show to stay inside a narrow corridor that went into the backstage area. These huge, asshole-ish bouncer sized dudes from Elite security were complete jerks, standing shoulder to shoulder, three across, their arms crossed across their chests and their backs to the stage, they prevented us from going into the arena! They kept shouting rudely during the show, which made it harder to hear the music and thought there was a television monitor casting the video feed at the other end of the hallway, who wanted to stand there and watch (you couldn’t hear it either).

A view from backstage...

When I heard the band rolling into “The Crème Puff Wars” I had a clever idea to slip out of the backstage area via one of those “Authorized Access Only” doors. As I hoped, there were several kids hanging outside the door so I offered to swap my press pass lanyard with some chick from Michigan for her seat on the lawn. I finished the first set in the very back of the lawn but during the extended set break I made my way up to the very top of the stadium, at the very furthest point away from the stage so I could simply take it all in, one last time. I was finally able to relax, I pulled my little glass pipe from the secret pocket in my backpack, packed it tightly with my fresh greens and then, during the set break, I shared a couple of bowls with another old geezer named Red and we talked about our stories from the road. Before second set Red asked me to watch his stuff while he went to use the head and get a couple for beers, but he never came back!

First set, 27 June 2015

They seem very small but...
THEY ARE LARGER THAN LIFE!

I kept an eye on his bag, naturally, but by the time the second set was starting, I found myself sitting practically alone; I had my own little private dance space, an excellent view of the entire stage and a cool, Pacific breeze blowing on me throughout the rest of the show! I can’t put into words how very happy and satisfied I was when the show concluded. I was full, like eating a massive feast of sound and good vibes, the belly of my soul was stuffed! The shows were simply fantastic! I cannot put into words all the feelings and thoughts that went rushing through my mind, every note and lick of lyric seemed to touch something inside somehow, it was one of the most amazing experiences I’ve had in a very long time. It was a perfect day, Saturday the 27th of June in Santa Clara was a balmy 72 degrees, cool breezy salty air waffling through my long, grayed beard and hair. I was there to see, one last time, the remaining four original members of The Grateful Dead (and most esteemed, very talented guests) perform those songs of our own, a final time, One Last Saturday Night. I’m not going to waste time going down the set-list or voicing opinions about anything regarding the band’s performance; simply put, it was flawless and worth the wait.

The "Eyes of The World" screens were so trippy!

 This was it for me, I could be no closer I thought, exactly what I wanted, just One Last Saturday Night.

She expresses it for ALL!

After the show, I waited until the stadium was more than half empty. I simply sat alone, smoking another bowl by myself, feeling the cool evening air rushing under my thin, torn tie-dye. I took off my Peace Cap, my sweaty head and matted long hair feeling the coolness at last. I watched the remaining people around depart and when the clean up crew and security dudes were getting close to me, before they said anything, I took off and went to Shakedown Street, one last time. Again I kept my eyes and ears open, looking for old friends ad smiling at new ones, I was in a state of pure bliss. I didn’t have any LSD, but you wouldn’t know that if you were inside my head, thinking and feeling the things I was feeling. Flashbacks are real, as real as you make them and I went full tilt boogie in my mind that last Saturday night, like an Acid Test Graduate…I was tripping on Life! Eventually the parking lot was shutting down and I was turned around, I started walking to the train station in the wrong direction. Realizing my error (without my phone GPS, I’m lost I guess), I went back across the parking lot towards the amusement park and train station. Along the way I bought a bottle of water and decided to take myself a rest and think about if I wanted to keep this ticket in the 200 section for Sunday evening’s performance. It was tempting, I mean I reasoned with myself, I think I deserve it, I’ve been a loyal and most Dead-icated fan for 40+ years, I should be there, right? Then, the hippie inside me argued, I was on a miracle mission and this was the last time, I know, I would have the chance to make a random act of kindness like this; give the ticket to somebody who deserved it MORE than you, d’Philip!

As I was sitting on a grassy knoll, watching the world go past, a young couple sat next to me. The girl asked if I had a lighter, I did and loaned it to her so she could light her cigarette. As she handed it back to me, her voice thin and with a slight quiver, she asked, “You don’t happen to have an extra ticket for tomorrow night, do you?” she laughed nervously, as if she was asking the impossible, she nodded, “We have a $150 bucks, but only one ticket for the show tomorrow night.”
“Bummer…” I smiled, keeping my secret I asked, “Did you enjoy the show tonight?”
“We just got here, from Kansas…” the girl shook her head, “Neither of us have ever seen the band, but it’s what brought us together.”
“Wow, that’s cool…” I pulled my small glass bowl from my secret backpack pocket and started to pack it with some medical grade sativa cannabis while asking, “So if you’ve never seen them, how did they bring you together?”
“We’re the only Deadheads in the county!” the dude chimed in with a laugh then reached over to shake my hand, “I’m Bob, this is Cyn…we’re from Phillipsburg in Northern Kansas…we met at a Phish show in Colorado…”
“September 1st, 2013!” Cyn beamed, remembering the moment “During Boogie On Reagea Woman…we danced together as strangers…”
“And we left as lovers!” Bob grinned and put his thin arm around his girl. They had to be in the early 20s and yet they looked a lot like my friends and I did when we were their age, some 30+ years ago. Bob continued telling their story, about how they clicked and she went back to Kansas with him and now they live together and go on tours when they can. Bob explained, “My dad owns a feed and grain store, I’m part of his business so I have to stay…”
“Where he goes, I go!” Cyn beamed a sunshine smile that beamed on that dim grassy knoll and she stabbed her cigarette to death between us; she shook her long hair slowly, “But we could only afford one ticket from StubHub…”
“For how much?” I interrupted as I offered the greens on my bowl, “Would you like the honor?”
“Yes, please…” Cyn took the bowl and lighter and before she lit it, she signed, “We paid $500, but it’s a good seat in the second level up…”
“Actually, it’s at the top of the last section…” Bob admitted, then added, “But at least it’s inside the show, right?”
“Right on…” I agreed. Bob was a talker and continued to explain, almost like he was making an excuse, why the $500 was a good investment. I didn’t argue, I didn’t say anything but rather, felt sorry for them having been ripped off and being motivated by fear to pay such outrageous prices. It didn’t matter, they didn’t know better, this is the ticket marketing and concert experience of the 21st Century; those scummy scalpers of back in the day have gone corporate, gotten government sanctions and justify their greed by stating the concert experience is a commodity, not a public offering to share art, music, love and community. Bob continued telling tales of having seen all of the “Core Four” except Billy at some festival or another, they have seen Trey or Phish 10 times together, even in Chicago and San Francisco, but this was different for them. The Grateful Dead were saying good-bye and they had this need to be there, even if they weren’t there when Jerry was alive. I listened as we passed the smoldering bowl between us and when it was cashed, I asked, “So you need a ticket for tomorrow night, just the one?”
“Yeah, well we can’t go to Chicago…” Cyn started, “Bob has to run the store, it’s a holiday weekend you know…”
“Yeah, well…” Bob nodded, “Chicago would be nice, but this is better I think.”
“This is better than Chicago?” I was surprised, I thought I was the only one who was thinking that thought, “Why?”
“This is home for The Grateful Dead, it’s where it started, right?” Bob nodded, “There’s a lot more Love in San Francisco than in Chicago.”
“Yeah, right…” Cyn agreed and puled another ciggie out, “These shows are the real farewell, Chicago is just a big marketing exploitation show!”
“Wow!” I was blown away by her conviction so I again handed over my lighter without her having to ask again, “That’s a strong statement, do you think Chicago is a sell out or something?”
“Not from the band…” Cyn started as she lights her ciggie, “But the promoters, the media, the ticket scandal…it’s all bullshit that makes the pool dirty!”
“I think they are doing Chicago for the world…” Bob injected, “But these shows are for themselves, that’s what matters to us…I mean, Chicago will be great, it’s the fucking Grateful Dead, even if it sucks, they’ll be great!”
“Right…” I nodded, “Even on their worst nights, they were the best show in town!”
“Have you, like actually seen them…?” Cyn asked, “I mean, with Jerry?”
“Hell yes…” I chuckled, “I saw my first show in 1974 and my last one in 1994…and about 200 and something shows in between!”
“Dude…” Bob was impressed, “You are like, old school Deadhead, right?”
“More like old school drop-out…” I laughed, “But yeah, I’ve been here a while.”
“Wow…” they both sort of looked like me as if I was a museum artifact, “That’s way cool!”
“So, have you ever seen Phish too?” Cyn asked and then answered, “I bet you have, right?”
“Not since last October at Chula Vista…” I smiled and continued, “I started hearing them in ’88, their music was on the end of the bootleg tapes I was trading that tour…I saw them in 1990 and perhaps about 20 something times since then…I love Phish, all of them, a lot…so yeah, I’ve been there too.”
“So you were there tonight?” Bob asked, “How was it?”
“Fucking amazing!” I couldn’t find the words, “I’ve waited for 20 years for some kind of closure and it was exactly what I needed…it was all I need in fact!”
“You going to tomorrow night?” Cyn smiled.
“No, actually…” I pulled my secret ticket from another pocket of my backpack, “You both are going…here, enjoy the show, man!”
“What?” Cyn literally burned her hand as she pulled the ciggie from her lips quickly, “How much?”
“Nothing, it’s yours…” I held the ticket up in front of them, both of them just looked at and then at me, a quizzical look on their face, “It’s legit, it’s yours for free…Have a great show!”
“No fucking way, dude!” Bob said loudly, loud enough for people passing by to stop and look at us, Bob shook his head, “Let me give you something for it, I wouldn’t feel right.”
“No, please…it’s yours.” I shook the ticket but they didn’t take it, “It’s a mail order ticket, that’s why it looks different…but it’s real…section 200…see?”
“Dude!” said some drunk guy from the passing crowd, “I’ll take that!”
“Sorry…” I pulled the ticket close and looked at Cyn and Bob, “It belongs to these young lovers, man, sorry…maybe in Chicago?” I was lying, I’m not going to be within 2,000 miles of Chicago next weekend, I added in a quieter voice to Bob and Cyn, “I’d charge him $500 bucks but0- he’s stupid enough to pay it…” I laughed, “But you’ve been ripped off enough, you deserve to go to the show, you know? Just one thing, remember that you were there, this one last time because it’s all over now, baby blue.”
“Really?!?” Cyn was floored, “Really?!?”
“Absolutely.” I smiled big, “Here, please take it, okay?”
“Man, I’ve heard about miracles but…” Bob took the ticket and gently held it so he and his girl could look closely. Their eyes wide and bright with Love and Hope, their smiles curled upon their lips like little hippie streamers floating in the air. They looked up at me and in stereo said, “Thank you!”
“Sure thing…” I smiled and gathered my things into my backpack, “I have to get moving on, I want to get home before the sun comes up…You guys have a great show, be cool, be safe and continue this legacy with you in your lives…Peace.”
“But, wait…” Cyn said as I stood up, “What was your name again?”
“I’m d’Philip…” I pulled the backpack upon my shoulders, my messy tuft of long curls catching under the nylon straps, “Have a good show you guys, stay in touch.” I started to step back and way from them, they sat on the grass in shock, “It’s an awesome experience!”
“Thank you again!” Cyn gushed.
“Peace, brother!” Bob smiled large as he flashed me the peace sign, “Thanks!”
“Bless you!” Cyn gushed.
“Peace, brother and sister…” I flashed a peace sign back and then, as I was swallowed by the moving crowd, I sighed allowed, “That was the best miracle ever!”

I was shit out of luck in getting home before the sunrise, the next train wasn’t until about 7:45 on Sunday morning and then, it was an hour and half to the end of the line where my wife was going to meet me. I sat by myself for most of the time, deflecting homeless souls, smiling at other Deadheads passing by and waiting, waiting and sometimes dozing off for a few until the trains finally started running. I didn’t have any battery power, my phone completely dead and I tried to use an “old fashioned” phone booth to call home, but it went to voice mail. My wife, fortunately, got the message in time and by the time the BART stopped at the end of the line in Pleasanton, she was waiting for me, top down in our VW Bug with a large coffee! I climbed in, kissed her with more passion that I imagined I could and did not stop talking the entire hour ride home. She kept reminding me, “I know, we saw the show too…” and “I heard that jam, it was incredible!” but I kept blabbing uncontrollably. At home the kids were still asleep and I went in to shower immediately; I was so sweaty crusty dirty and dusty, I need a cool shower to relax. We had a bowl in the back before I made one little video clip for myself (and friends) and then I crawled off to bed. Attempting to sleep, still buzzing from the energy of the show, the day was bright and growing hotter with each passing minute, I was lucky to have a solid four hours before waking up, doing a few hippie speedballs and then getting ready to tune in the stream for the next night’s show. I got to see that show, and hear it, in the comfort of my air conditioned living room, on the big screen with a loud sound system, a chilled bong at hand. Together, my wife and our two kids, the pets gathered around the room, The Grateful Dead experience simply doesn’t get better that this for me; we’re waiting with great anticipation for the conclusion next weekend.

Tomorrow I will share my "other" last show(s) from September of 1994...I invite you too to share your stories of your own. Tell me about your last show (before now) or your first show...or the best show, the worst show...the most dangerous show or which show did you meet your soul mate at? There are hundreds, thousands of stories about Grateful Dead adventures in Life and if we start to share them...I'll get my publisher to collect them, bind them into a book and we can keep our stories alive, we can continue passing them on for generations to come...Let's take this magic into The Future, it may be the only Hope for The Planet!

I think everyone had a great time, if you were there in Santa Clara or not, it was a wonderful experience and a perfect way to say "Fare Thee Well..." here at home, in California; now let's say so long to the rest of the world in Chicago!

Peace,

d'Philip

29 June 2015

The San Joaquin Valley

Republic of California

Earth