Category Archives: Music

Dec 1968 Jan 1969 Miami Pop Festival

On December 28-30, 1968, Gulfstream Park outside Miami hosted the Miami Pop Festival, post-Monterey and pre-Woodstock. Alex Cooley happened to attend and decided he wanted to put on a similar festival in Atlanta. The Miami Pop Festival drew 100,000 fans over three beautiful winter days, and featured many seminal acts of the time:

GSP681228-PO

The Grateful Dead (Free download http://www.archive.org/details/gd68-12-29.sbd.cotsman.5425.sbeok.shnf), Chuck Berry, Marvin Gaye, Joni Mitchell, Richie Havens, Steppenwolf, Procol Harum, Country Joe and the Fish, Canned Heat, the Turtles, and Three Dog Night were among the fourteen daily acts that appeared on two stages — one at the grandstand and the other near the south end of the park — for the price of seven dollars per day.

According to Rolling Stone (February 1, 1969), the festival was “a monumental success in almost every aspect, the first significant — and truly festive — international pop festival held on the East Coast.” Woodstock, of course, took place in 1969, and Hallandale city officials, horrified by visions of stoned hippies dancing naked at Gulfstream, nixed plans for a second Miami Pop Festival.

(There is a book currently in the works after interviews with members or representatives of most performers as well as many of the attendees .)

2018 Exhibit about earlier Miami festival plus my poster for the REAL Miami Pop Festival on display.

Wikipedia says: The second Miami Pop Festival was held December 28–30, 1968, and was the first major rock festival on America’s east coast.[1][2] It was produced by a team led by Tom Rounds and Mel Lawrence, who had previously produced the seminal KFRC Fantasy Fair and Magic Mountain Music Festival on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, California. The crowd size for the three days was estimated to be around 100,000.[3]

Performers covered a wide range of music genres,[4] and included:

Many of these musicians were cast as superheroes in a commemorative comic book distributed at the event. Interesting moments during the festival included: Joni Mitchell inviting former Hollies member and new love interest Graham Nash, as well as Richie Havens to join her onstage to sing Dino Valenti’s “Get Together”; Jefferson Airplane’s Jack Casady playing bass guitar with Country Joe & the Fish; and folksinger/songwriter icon and Coconut Grove resident Fred Neil stopping in at the festival one day to hang out and enjoy the music.[4] Several acts advertised in early promotional materials did not appear, and their names were removed from subsequent promotions, including John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, Dino Valenti and H.P. Lovecraft. Two bands who were expected to appear were unable to perform due to last-minute problems: The McCoys got snowbound in Canada and Booker T. Jones ofBooker T. & the M.G.’s got the flu.[5]

This festival was unique in that it was the first rock festival to have two entirely separate ‘main’ stages several hundred yards apart (the Flower Stage and the Flying Stage), both operating simultaneously and offering performers of equal calibre.[4][6][7]

Did you attend? Share your experience below if you wish.

miamisticker

miamipopschedulemiamipopbook MiamiPopFestival

 

 

 

Read my personal experience from the Miami Pop Festival.

Big A
Big A-merica. Art was strewn about the area
Country Joe McDonald and Chicken Hirsch, drummer for The Fish, watch The Amboy Dukes. Then they came and sat beside my group in front of the stage!
Country Joe McDonald and Chicken Hirsch, drummer for The Fish, watch The Amboy Dukes. Then they came and sat beside my group in front of the stage!
Big Blue Meanie
Big Blue Meanie    

Did you attend? Share your experience below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Atlanta 60s Bands

Music was essential in our lives. Most of us started out wanting to be The Beatles. It looked like their lives were exciting and interesting. Some of us went so far as to become musicians. The times did have an INCREDIBLE soundtrack! Which was good because at times with many of your heroes assassinated, you felt the music was all you could depend on.
Sgt. Pepper’s started a trend towards experimentation with sounds and influences.  It was finally decided that guys old enough to die in Vietnam should be mature enough to drink. Lowering the drinking age to 18 filled the clubs with young men and women wanting to dance and forget about what possibly faced us in the Nuclear Threat -Vietnam era.  Customers now demanded more than records;  many places hired a variety of live musicians.
Since it was possible to earn a living around Atlanta, some very unique and talented musicians were attracted here. The sheer variety of bands in Atlanta at the time made for very enriching and inspiring evenings, and afternoons in the Parks.
Atlanta’s hip community was lucky enough to have had the services of many great musicians, but two of the most extraordinary groups of musicians stand out. They were always ready to play and support our community. One, The Allman Brothers,  is still enjoying increasing success as they bring joy to listeners with music based in the musics of the South  including blues, country, gospel and jazz. The other, Hampton Grease Band,  had one album that became an industry joke and a trivia fact. Only now in retrospect is the complexity of their music being noticed and appreciated beneath the Dada zaniness that inspired it. Both Hampton and Glenn play astounding music and continue to amaze and inspire musicians around Atlanta and the world. Both can walk almost unnoticed in Atlanta while being adored by fans all over the world.
We just enjoyed hearing them play in the park and wish to say thanks for providing all the pleasure and a soundtrack for our lives.
One of my fondest memories is racing with my dog at twilight across the Piedmont Park open field as the Allman Brothers started Whipping Post roaring in the air like a storm gathering to release all that energy at once!  Boom!

A partial list:

The Bag, Celestial Voluptuous Banana, The River People, Hydra, Wet Willie,  Radar, Booger band,  darryl Rhoades and the Hahavishnu Orchestra, Eric Quincy Tate, Mose Jones, The Brick Wall, Atlanta Rythm Section, Lynard Skynyrd, Marhsall Tucker band, Brother bait, Little Phil and The Nightshadow, Kudzu, Stonhenge, East Side Blues Band, Chakra, Kindred Spirit, Ron Norris, Mother’s Finest, Silverman, Ellen McIlwaine, Fear Itself, Thermos Greenwood and The Colored people,discoverynbands

We hope to provide links to all these. Can you supply  any help? Anyone have tapes?hg16

Heey Baby! Beach musicbands

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks to Ricky Bear for this list of Atlanta musicians of the 60s and 70s on an invite to a reunion.Atl reunion 85 p1small2

Atl reunion 85 p2small2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

chakra
Chakra above Steppenwolf

 

Jefferson Airplane

The Great Speckled Bird August 31, 1970 Vol. 3 #35 pg. 12

airplane-atlAirplane

No doubt about it, as somebody on stage at the Municipal Auditorium put it, the Jefferson Airplane concert Monday night was “the Atlanta rock event of the year.” How long have the freaks in Atlanta waited to hear the Airplane-forever it seems. This was one of the few times the city auditorium has been really packed since Dylan played Atlanta years ago. All that energy of Rock & Roll experience on stage, met by the energy of a new, growing nid expanding village in the new freak nation. Haight-Ashbury thru Chicago thru Woodstock thru Altamont through Kent State.

Great Jones played a short, snappy set at 7:30, and Radar gave us some good stuff before the hour of 9 o’clock came around (especially “Jailhouse Rock” which is where a lot of Atlanta kids are at right now). But I don’t think many folks could get into any other band that night. We were in Airplane/Grace Slick/Jorma/Marty Balin/Paul Kantner/”White Rabbit Volunteers of Amerika” audience all the way. When the band from early Haight-Ashbury stepped out on stage, you could feel the rush hard and heavy, like we had to move on up higher, or explode. The Airplane took us where we wanted to go and left us there for over two hours.

airplane2“Somebody to Love,” “Plastic Fantastic Lover,””Saucer'”Marijuana,” “Volunteers””We Can Be Together”, “White Rabbit,””Good Shepherd,” and a lot, more old and new sounds we’ve come to associate with this group over the years. But this time live, up front, done firs thand by one of the few rock bands that reinterprets and re-designs their material for stage performance rather than just recreating their “hits.” Plus a long, hard, bluesy jam, and Marty Balin doing some really fine vocals.

Drummer Joey Covington was the only “new” element we weren’t used to; even though nobody knew quite what to make of his long, white- soulish high volume vocals, somehow it seemed like the things to do at the time, and we all got off on it. And he’s a damn good drummer.

What can anybody say about Grace Slick except that, finally it’s great to have a woman in charge of taking care of some roll& roll  business!

A lot can be said about the rotten sound system the Airplane had to struggle with: the same sound people—Festival Group-who loused up the Santana/Allman Brothers concert some months back. Things weren’t nearly so bad as they were that night, but Jorma’s lead guitar was missed more often than not sometimes (leaving a hole in the total Airplane sound), and the mix left a lot to be desired. Thank God the volume was there-this is loud, loud music, and it . felt just right from where we were.

Glenn MacKay’s Head Lights is one of the oldest, and best; lightshows of all, but somehow, the more lightshows I see, the more I appreciate the Electric Collage.

Only a handful of cops were in the auditorium, but toward the first part of the concert we thought they were going to make trouble. The tension was almost unbearable—a heavy adrenalin rush as “Tear down the walls” and “Up against the wall, motherfuckers” come out of the speakers while uniformed cops hassled kids who were trying to occupy the area just beyond the stage. Finally resolving the tension, Marty Balin stood up to the uniforms: “They’re not doing a damn thing,” he said over the mike, “not a damn thing!” It looked like the cop might be into busting Marty himself (the Airplane has been busted a couple of times when they played the South), but Power to the People took the evening, and the stage area was encircled by Airplane lovers for the next two hours: cops looked embarrassed and out of place as they tried to step-over and through the crowd that wasn’t about 10 move because of some city ordinance.. After this early tense scene Marty and Grace moved directly into “We Can Be Together” and “Volunteers,” just to let us know they know. When an unbelievable response was given the Airplane at the end of the concert, (the cheering, stomping, and shouting went on for what seemed like hours), they came back to do one more, and it was “Volunteers” again. I don’t think they had planned on a second encore, but they came back once more and did a new song with some heavy jamming. Fantastic! Something to remember for a long, long time, and an experience of rock music that, hopefully, will keep us inspired until rock concerts in Atlanta can make it without that $6 price tag. Let’s bring the Airplane back to play free in the park!

Back when Santana played at the auditorium, the garbage strike had just begun, and the shit was beginning to hit the fan. A continuation of that strike by city employees was called for Tuesday, the day after the Jefferson Airplane concert. At the same time freaks are being hassled into the jails, and Black people are being shot down in their own front yards by pigs in Summerhill. Gay folk are being attacked and sent to Grady Hospital by homophobes in Piedmont Park, and women are not safe on the streets at night in our community. If “private property” is the target, as the Airplane puts it, and “We” are its enemy, we’d better start getting together some mass, collective actions to Stop the Pig/Serve the People. In loyalty to their kind, they cannot tolerate our minds in loyalty to our kind, we cannot tolerate their obstruction:

Got a revolution to make!

-miller francis.jr.

War on Rock

The Great Speckled Bird March 30, 1970 Vol 3 #13 pg 14

War on Rock

 Santana and the Allman Brothers Band flew right into a hornet’s nest last week when they showed up to play at the Municipal Auditorium: there was a picket line of striking city employees there to prevent scabs from filling their jobs.

The word from California is that Santana is a pretty hip Rock group and not the kind to cross a picket line in support of a city administration that had fired the strikers and alerted that National Guard to deal with them. And this year, unlike the 1968 garbage strike when longhairs scabbed in the workers’ jobs, it was becoming clear at the time of the scheduled concert that the hip community was lining up in complete support of the strikers against the city. The Mid-Town Alliance had voted unanimously to support the strikers. The Bird was behind them, and people from The Laundromat, Women’s Liberation and other groups were planning to be on the picket line, not inside the concert. The Allman Brothers dig Atlanta and the music audience here—they didn’t want to cross the picket line either, although their management obviously didn’t give a shit about any black workers’ struggle. The Insect Trust, also on the program, are a fairly “political” group from Memphis (via Hoboken, New Jersey, recently), and they stated early in the day that they wouldn’t play as long as the picket line was up.

In order to deal with this political/cultural dilemma the fairest way possible, Santana met directly with representatives of the strikers. The city workers didn’t want to keep the concert from taking place, and they wanted the support of the hip community; at the same time, Santana didn’t want to run roughshod over the very real efforts of the strikers to maintain a solid front against the city. So Santana offered to make a financial contribution to the workers’ cause and give some time at the concert for a union speaker; in return, the strikers would remove their picket line during the time of the concert. Everything was delivered, but the city didn’t dig what went down—not at all.

Atlanta has an 11:30 “curfew” and Municipal Auditorium concerts have to take that absurdity into account. The Santana concert started on time, but the sound system, supposedly a special “Festival Group” system promised “especially for this performance,” was responsible for an incredible number of hassles.

The sound was terrible for The Insect Trust, and something terrible seems to have happened to the group itself, too. We got a chance to hear them last summer at the Memphis Blues Festival, and they were fantastic, one of the best things we had heard. They got it all in—folk, rock, jazz, blues, some of the new things black musicians are doing, and somehow it all hung together in an exciting way. Nancy Jeffries, the vocalist, we dug a lot, but Thursday night she was lousy. None of it came off, but again. it sounded as if at least a large part of the trouble was in the mikes and amps-or maybe that’s what happens to a good group when they are “discovered” by Bill Graham.

The Allman Brothers Band were great though—it’s hard to describe what happens between Atlanta and the Allman Brothers, but their music brought the house down. It’s terrific to have them back here. but it did seem strange hearing them in the setting of the Municipal Auditorium for up to six bucks instead of for free in Piedmont Park- seems like “success” should work the other way around. We hope to see them back in the park this summer.

A lot of shit was coming down backstage while freaks were tossing a frisbee from balcony to balcony in the intermission before Santana. Roy Eirod, the auditorium manager, didn’t take too kindly to the idea of a striker going on stage, and so pitched a fit. Santana said they wouldn’t play if the agreement weren’t lived up to, and Aftermath Productions had decided that they would support Santana’s position. Finally, Ed Shane came out and announced the speaker who was accompanied, with good reason, by four bodyguards.Most of us dug what he was saying, but a few freaks with warped priorities just had to stick in some booing. The speaker, John Releford, wasn’t fazed at all: “Now, you folks can agitate all you want,” he said, “but I’m gonna stay up here for just a while longer and rap some more!” This got him an ovation, and after a couple of short remarks about freaks not scabbing and freaks and strikers supporting each other, he turned the stage over to Santana.

It would be hard to imagine anyone who doesn’t dig Santana. They did some great stuff Thursday night— like the Allman Bros., mostly from their record—but after only a half hour of music, the mikes and amps suddenly cut off. Eirod, backstage, had flipped because of the union speaker and envoked the curfew bullshit. Shane was out front trying to cool everybody off, but in the wings there was some pretty unpleasant hassling centered around the power switch. The Santana people were furious at the city.

Finally, Shane, who had been playing mostly a “mealy mouth role (he had wised up considerably by the time of the scheduled Spirit concert on Sunday) finally turned to the drummers and said, “What happens now is up to Santana!” Like an explosion, the drummers began to play without mikes and amplification, and a freaked out audience burst into shouts and applause and streamed past the befuddled cops to rush the stage (several kids had been busted during the evening for such offenses as “blocking the aisles,” etc., and at one point, the cops even confiscated the frisbee). You can bet your sweet life the city personnel were quaking in their shoes about what to do—imagine a lot of city cops against the combined forces of freaks, musicians and striking workers. A lot of hands got near the power switch, but miraculously, the electricity came back on for one more ferocious, driving number.

When it was all over, Shane came back to the mike to smooth things over but Santana organist Greg Rollie grabbed the mike and shouted, “We’re sorry about all the trouble—next time we play for you, we’re gonna play for two hours, and we won’t care what the rules say: Right on!

The next day, the city of Atlanta pulled another of its tricks in what Steve Cole of Discovery, Inc. has called a “war on Rock & Roll” waged by Atlanta for a long, long time: it cancelled four concerts already scheduled in the Municipal Auditorium by Aftermath Productions (including Judy Collins and Jethro Tull), and threatened never to contract with that agency again.

A lot of people are angry now. At the same time that the hip community is coming together with the strikers, people who want Atlanta to have Rock & Roll Music are getting together to make sure all decisions about music— who when, where and for how long—are answered not by the city administration of Atlanta but by the people who dig those sounds. Power to the People!!!

————miller francis, jr.

Mother David legend

Atlanta Gazette Nov. 12, 1978 vol. 5 # 11, pg. 8 

excerpt from The Catacombs is Reborn!

…A major factor in the beginning of the end [of The Catacombs] was the arrest of Mother David.  According to many, he was framed for allegedly selling drugs to a minor, getting him a five-year sentence in prison. Many people maintain that he was not locked up because of drug dealings, but because he was about to expose new Information on the assassination of John F Kennedy.

According to legend. Mother David came into possession of documents supporting Dallas District Attorney Jim Garrison’s prosecution of Clay Shaw on conspiracy charges in connection with the Kennedy shooting. Mother David supposedly got the papers from someone who picked up a briefcase belonging to a federal agent who was shot in the Catacombs parking lot one night. Mother David bought a Harris- Seybold-Potter Co, offset printer to reproduce the documents. Coincidently—or purposely according to legend—Mother David was arrested and jailed on the drug charge before he was able to raise the money to convert the World War II surplus map-making machine into a press.

The club was then taken over by a man who ran the club at a gross of what he claimed to be $100.000 on coffee, cokes and cheese plates. Much of the money was used to get people out of jail and help reestablish others.

In late ’68 the Catacombs property. owned by Howard Massell. was purchased by Selig Realtors. Selig decided the club was not befitting of their image, claimed the basement lease between Massell and the leasee invalid, and closed a chapter in Atlanta history.

Now. a decade later. Mother David, after a brief visit to Atlanta following his release from prison, has completely vanished. ..

Mother David convicted

Mother David Convicted!

Great Speckled Bird vol. 1 #4 April 26, 1968 

CONVICTED

ATLANTA, Monday, April 22 — Fulton County Courthouse, local hall of justice. David Braden, 30 years old, is to be tried this morning on charges of selling marijuana to a minor—the possible penalty, life imprisonment.

The elevator up. Lawyers, talking, joking about affairs of court. “Well, what’d you get for that woman? ” “Oh, she got off with eight years.” I marvel at the efficiency of Justice.

Fulton Superior Court. “ALL RISE.” All-American conditioned reflex, I rise. Enter Judge Emeritus Boy kin, known by some as a “hanging” judge. Defender of State, Solicitor Roger Thompson, hulks over his desk, ready for prosecution. The court seems anxious to get Braden, and dispenses quickly with other cases, mostly blacks. (“Boy, come over here.”) Black men are lead out chained in parallel.

A sense of inevitability seeps into the courtroom as Thompson reveals his talents and Judge Boykin renders his justice. (I set up counter court in my mind. Decide absolutely that Court is on trial, not Braden.)

Richard Koren, Braden’s lawyer, returns a special plea of insanity. The trial then is to determine whether Braden is mentally competent to aid his attorney in preparing a case. Selection of jury. Thompson systematically eliminates all blacks. He strikes anyone with more than Readers Digest experience with psychology. Braden sits oblivious ; to the trial, a slight bitter smile punctuated by a flicker when he recognizes the few friends who show.

Braden’s plea for insanity moves quickly. Dr. Wyatt, psychiatrist for the County Lunacy Commission, and Dr. Wiener, Georgia State psychologist, testify at length on Braden’s incapacity to aid his attorney. Korem testifies. Then three deputy sheriffs conclude, from their two to five minute observations of the prisoner, that Braden is perfectly normal.

Prosecutor Thompson moves into his summation. He reminds one of a slick small town car dealer, clinching a sale un a lemon. “Of course this man is too sophisticated for us Georgia rednecks. And now, you, the jury, representing the moral atmosphere of the community, and the welfare of our kids …” In five minutes the jury returns a verdict against insanity. Braden will be tried.

Tuesday morning. Braden attempted suicide the night before. Korem decides that Braden should try the leniency of the court, Braden pleads guilty. The court reduces the charge to possession. Sentence; seven year’s imprisonment. For possession of marijuana.

David Braden has been in solitary confinement in the county jail under$25,000 bond since March 12,1968 when he was indicted. I don’t recognize him—the pictures I have seen show him with a satanic intense smile, an actor. Now he sits, ashen, in pinstripe suit, unresponsive to the court.

Braden came to Atlanta in 1962 after completing most of a college education. He worked at the Atlanta Art School for a while. Since then he has set up several coffee houses. In 1966 he started an art gallery, the Mandorla. In the summer of 1967, Braden opened the Catacombs, originally a quiet coffee house.

When the young people started flowing in great numbers into the Fourteenth Street area, Braden fell into the role of provider for a large number. Hence his title, “Mother.” Then the media discovered him and set him up as the leader of the “hippy” colony. Now the court was condemning him as a “hippy.” ^

Braden had a particular charm that attracted many people while many disliked him intensely. However, the fact that Braden faced life imprisonment made his personal eccentricities seem irrelevant. The Mary Worth minds of the court seemed to see David’s elimination as the beginning of the destruction of the “hippy colony,” the threat to their “moral order.”

Braden has been harassed frequently by the police since 1962. On November 3,1967, he was arrested on the charge of possession of narcotics and on January 30,1968 he was given a one year suspended sentence.

On March 12, Braden was indicted by the grand jury for selling to a minor, 19yearold Chip Burson. According to newspaper accounts, “concerned parents” had forced the indictment. The Solicitor said at that time that “narcotics” seized in a January marijuana bust were allegedly purchased from Braden.

Four persons from the January 23 bust were listed as State’s witnesses, including Chip Burson. Since it was widely known that Burson sold marijuana, many wondered why Burson would have bought from Braden. It is also rumored that Burson was in New York on the date of the alleged sale, though witnesses to that effect were unavailable. There is no record of any court action thus far on Burson’s possession charges of January 23.

Braden’s lawyer Korem had talked to many people who said that Burson sold marijuana, but no one was willing to risk testifying to help Braden. Not more than a handful contributed to defense funds. Korem, with no funds and only a week to prepare, had virtually no case.

Braden was mentally unable to deal with the trial. Friends had received confused disconjuncted letters with no mention of his case. Dr. Wiener, psychologist at Georgia State, had visited David and found him severely depressed and unable to cope with the consequences of his trial.

Braden’s case is uncertain. Pending substantial contributions to a defense fund, Braden will probably spend at least 23 years in jail or hospitals. If he is certified for psychiatric treatment, there is no guarantee that he will not stay longer at Milledgeville.

The Georgia Uniform Narcotics Act of 1967 classifies marijuana with “addictive narcotic drugs” such as heroin, opium, cocaine. A first offense for selling marijuana can receive a minimum of ten years and a maximum of life. The death penalty is possible for a second offense.

Federal agencies and other established institutions have begun to receive scientific information concerning the non-addictive characteristics of marijuana. February Play boy reports that a paper circulating in the Health, Education and Welfare Department indicates that “so far as an objective analysis of the problem is possible, to that degree one can only conclude that the case against marijuana does not hold good.”

Dr. James Goddard, chief of the Food and Drug Ad ministration, recently stated that marijuana is no more dangerous than alcohol. Many who have used marijuana, claim that, in fact, marijuana is much less harmful to one’s health.

The guilt rests not with David Braden, but rather with a puritanical community and a brutal, ill-informed law. —jim gwin

Sports Arena

sportsarenaelvis55ATLANTA, GA – WARREN ARENA

Located at 310 Chester Avenue, it appears to have been owned by L.C. Warren.  He rented it to promoter Tom McCarthy in the 1930s, who began referring to the building as the Sports Arena.  It was used for wrestling again during the 1950s by various promoters, but in the 1960s, Paul Jones bought it and began using it when his cards conflicted with events scheduled at the Atlanta Municipal Auditorium.  Murray Silver began holding concerts. By the 1980s, the building had been demolished. 

 

 

The Dead held a Working man's dance party
The Dead held a Working man’s dance party 

The community turned out to dance in circles and twirl as the air grew smokey and dense.

SportsArena-5_12sm

Cheerful lines anticipate a Sunday afternoon and night with The Hampton Grease Band, The Allman Brother’s band, and The Grateful Dead – for $3.

Sports Arena stage used the wrestling ring platform
Sports Arena stage

 

 

 

The stage used the wrestling ring platform.

 

Thanks to Dennis Eavenson for this picture of The Hampton Grease Band  at the Sports Arena.

greaseband@sportsarena

garciaatl
Photo by Bill Fibben

Great Speckled Bird V. 3 No. 20 (May 18, 1970) pg. 7

HAMPTON TWICE If you were one of the few people who wasn’t at the Sports Arena Sunday afternoon for the Grateful Dead concert, you’ve probably heard by now just what went down. Frankly, this was one of the greatest musical / sensual experiences the Atlanta hip community has ever had, rivalled only by another Dead offering in Piedmont Park after last year’s Atlanta pop festival. Except that this year’s big blow-out had more to do with where we are at now. Imagine it: THE HAMPTON GREASE BAND, forever associated with Atlanta/Piedmont Park/Twelfth Gate/Sports Arena/ everywhere we have needed their weird, hilarious brand of heavy Rock: THE GRATEFUL DEAD, the West Coast Rock band most closely associated with the spirit of community, a band that has most consistently served the needs of the people and helped to raise their political and sensual consciousness, evoker of high-powered acid and swirling colors and hair, good times and free music in the streets and parks from the old days of the Haight (before HARD DRUGS and media- induced EGO TRIPPING), come like Pied Pipers to our own Piedmont Park to spread the word of what community can mean, back again but this time with another Rock group to tie together the experiences of West and South – THE ALLMAN BROTHERS BAND, the folks who took a lot of the hype and bullshit out of “white blues” and put a lot of their own grace and dignity and soul into the music, more in love with Atlanta than ever after successful excursions into Fillmore territory, East and West, after a beautiful album of some of their best of last year (a new one waits around the corner and it’ll be better, just you watch), back in Atlanta for an unannounced jam with the Dead … And who here in Atlanta will ever be the same? What we felt (and what other sense could you invoke to turn people on to the event?), inside and out, head and body, was the power and beauty of the many strains of our own community coming together, after another year of paying dues and fucking up, coming together in a few precious, explosive hours of what, for want of a better term, we will call Ecstasy!

SOME OF THE NICEST THINGS OF ALL: a big crowd – most of us back together again after a series of bummers No chairs on the dance floor No reserved seats Pigs that you could count on the fingers of one hand and still have some fingers left Total absence of uptightness and Atlanta paranoia Down home, sweaty, funky, sleazy, good ole Atlanta Sports Arena where nobody gets busted Announcement by Ed Shane that the Allman Brothers were present and would jam with the Grateful Dead Outasight stage built by community people for the Community Benefit Community staffed stage crew New material by the Hampton Grease Band, including more trumpet than usual, and probably the strangest setting for “Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey” we can imagine “Evans,” as usual, bringing down the house – Jerry and Holbrook (drums and bass guitar) leading the group in a building Spanish progression while Hampton shouts “Evans! Evans! Evans!” Jerry Fields doing some  singing The Allman Brothers lending their equipment to replace the Dead equipment left behind in Boston by the airline Dope and more dope and very good dope, too Sam Cutler, former stage manager for the Rolling Stones (he is one of the individuals that the Stones and everybody else involved in the Altamont disaster, including you and me, are singling out to put the blame on instead of recognizing what Capitalism and Ego-tripping can do to crush the world we are trying to build, serving as stage manager for the Dead Murray Silver, turned on to Kent State, and hinting that this “may be my last concert”, shouting “Power to the People!” ACLU lawyers arid freaks playing pickupsticks on the floor during breaks Instant replay of the Atlanta International Frisbee Contest Red fists on strike T-shirts worn by Sam Cutler and Dead stage crew The music of the Grateful Dead Vibrations that kept building and building until we moved on up to a whole other level Jerry Garcia’s twanging, singing guitar, and the look on his face, and on the faces of the rest of the Dead as total communication between music and people was established “Mama Tried” by Merle Haggard, one of the first straight C & W songs to be picked up on by Rocklovers The first appearances on stage of Duane, Greg, Berry Oakley and Butch Trucks. The first soaring blue notes played by Duane Allman – and what it did to the crowd; the duo riffs he played with Garcia and how the jam turned on the musicians participating in it Murray Silver in the crowd, wearing on his head a wreath of green, looking like a Bacchus figure from the Satyricon An incredible, unbelievable, destroying Southern hymn played by The Grateful Dead and the Allman Bro-thers Band: “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” Most accurate theme of what was happening Brief burst of terror at the very end of the music as a firecracker exploded with an incredibly loud BAM!, a bright flash, and a cloud of smoke a perfect audile exclamation mark for this most profound musical/community statement at the Sports Arena.      miller francis, jr.

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Check out Beefheart at the Sports arena for another party. Also McGrease.

sportsarenaclosingHey , Thought that this might be something that you were interested in seeing. This was the only job that we played. I had hepatitis at the time of the gig and was bedridden for the next two months. The band was comprised of John Ivey (b), John Fristoe (g, vocals), Wayne Logiudice (rhythm g, vocals) and me. Dana Douglas sang with the band also when Wayne had left. We played at the River House (where John I, John Fristoe, and Wayne Mcnatt and I  were living) constantly, but no gigs. Mostly for free for the dope dealers. When the Hog Farm was in Atlanta after the first pop festival, they parked their bus at the River House. This was  the time that they promoted the first mini pop that was held in Piedmont Park. Berry Oakley and Dickey Betts were frequent visitors. Two young men who later became the Bellamy Brothers were there often as well.  Many bands used to come out and play or rehearse there, B J Royal, Will Boulware and Booger, Hydra, Spencer Kirkpatrick, Bethlehem Asylum, Sweet Younguns et al.

A couple of notes on the Sports Arena gig. Fleetwood Mac was the loudest band that I had ever heard. Even louder that sitting next to the speakers at the Dallas or Atlanta Pop Festivals. I think that all of the River People were tripping on some unknown substance(s) during the performance. I don’t remember it very well, other than just being real sick. Wayne L said he looked at me and I was completely green.
Ricky Bear

Sunday July 19, 1970

droppedImage_1clipping from The Marthasville Vacuum

Sunday July 19, 1970

Activities started a little late this particular Sunday in the Park. First to appear were the Rhue Sisters. They offered a pleasant beginning for a day in the park. They were two attractive young girls who played and sang folk material by other artists. Although their guitar was out of tune and their microphone technique needed improvement, their vocal harmony made up for these faults.

To get back to the usual pace of the Park, a group from Macon called Free Soil was next. They did original progressive rock which included an alto lead voice, a sharing of leads and a song that went from 4/4 time to 5/4 then back to 4/4. The group looks like they will come up with some great sounds to turn the Atlanta people on to good music.droppedImage_1

The next group, Shayde, immediately crowd’s attention with their building sound. They were loud and heavy – a sound that the parkers love. They played their philosophy in music, “Free expression of music”.

After Shayde came Freight. This group consists of nine members, three of which make up an incredible horn section. Rico, their front-man, displayed professional showmanship, characteristic of a New York City performer. They played mostly Chicago material which did both groups justice.

Brewer and Shipley, a slightly over hyped but fairly good folk team ended the day at the park. They played some of their own   songs   plus   some   original arrangements of music by other musicians. They had the quality of being outstanding, but it was obvious that they were new to the audience situations that the record company had put them. They both combined their voices with their guitars giving them a full and balanced sound- a sound that the parkers love. They played their philosophy in music, “Free expression of music”.

After Shayde came Freight. This group consists of nine members, three of which make up an incredible horn section. Rico, their front-man, displayed professional showmanship, characteristic of a New York City performer. They played mostly Chicago material which did both groups justice.

droppedImage_2Brewer and Shipley, a slightly over hyped but fairly good folk team ended the day at the park. They played some of their own   songs   plus   some   original arrangements of music by other musicians. They had the quality of being outstanding, but it was obvious that they were new to the audience situations that the record company had put them. They both combined their voices with their guitars giving them a full and balanced sound.droppedImage

 

 

 

 

 

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Anyone recognize these bands playing in Piedmont March 1971?

 

 

Thanks to Tom Harrison who found these two photos from 1971 loose in a drawer. Go see what could you find?

 

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Darryl Rhoades visits The Catacombs

Excerpt from Forrest Park High School paper- October 1967. Eleventh grader Darryl Rhoades. now a well-known Atlanta musician, wrote this review after his First visit lo the Catacombs.

Hippies

By Darryl Rhoades PART II

On October 20th, I visited the “Catacombs” club on Fourteenth Street. The club was packed to capacity crowd and the florescent lights were flowing away.

The club has a variety of talent to offer. Anyone wishing to perform may do so by simply asking’ the manager of the club. Performers do not receive any compensation for their performances but they usually try to stress a message in their songs or whatever. I watched carefully the folk singers, which performed at the club. Every singer had a message to tell and was sure to get the audience’s attention.

Most of the singers did numbers by Bobby Dylan or the Beatles, but there were a few did their own material. There was one young man, which looked different because he had short hair. He did a few numbers and then gave a testimony about his life and Jesus Christ. Another young man did a few numbers and then talked about and made fun of the fake hippies, which are known as “teeny-bobbers.” At 1:30 in the morning a psychedelic band performed and brought with them a “strobe light”

The Catacombs has just re- opened after it was closed temporarily because of insufficient wiring. Now it is open every night with the action starting about nine o’clock and it closes when everyone leaves. The Catacombs serves ready made sandwiches and non-alcoholic beverages at the snack bar. Posters appear on the walls giving messages to all. A sign is posted at the foot of the stage . . .”Keep Off The Grass.”

For Heads Only from The Catacombs

For Heads Only link

Atlanta Gazette Nov. 12, 1978 vol. 5 # 11, pg. 8

catacombsheadlineFor, the people who spent most of their time on the streets of downtown Atlanta during 1967-68, there is one area that stands out more than any of the crash pads and clubs that were meeting places for the then-growing counter-culture. The corner of Peachtree and 14th streets, location of the Catacombs, is the place most remembered when thoughts of the Summer of Love flash through the mind.

The Catacombs was a small club that many consider the birthplace of the Atlanta hippie movement. And lust as the club grew quickly out of that scene. It died as quickly,  Serving as an omen of what would happen to the movement itself. For the past 10 years, its doors have been closed. with thoughts of It just memories to those who spent night after night in the crowded, incense-filled room. All that is about to change, however as December 31 marks the reopening of the Catacombs and a nostalgic trip back in time for many who made of their life.

Early in 1967. David Braden. “Mother David” to members of Atlanta’s growing counter-culture. owned the illien Gallery at the Corner of Peachtree and 14th streets. To accommodate the need for a gathering place of Atlanta’s artists and poets, he opened the basement as a coffeehouse, nee the Catacombs. With the growing influx of flower children and psychedelic art. however, poetry readings gave way to psychedelic bands and the Catacombs soon became the manifestation it is in most people’s memories today.

“It was musty, dank. dark, dirty and very exciting,” remembers one person who wishes to remain anonymous. “I had just left home and was out on the streets. It was fascinating. There were hundreds of people hanging out in the front and in the back parking lot. You never saw that in Atlanta before the Catacombs.”

When the scene began to grow, so did the music being made there. The Bag. the Celestial Voluptuous Banana, the Hampton Grease Band and Ellen Mclllwaine were regulars on the tiny stage.

“We were the second band to play the Catacombs.” recalls Michael Brown, then bass player for the Bag “Everybody from 14-year-old runaways to bikers were hanging out down there. We played Beatles and Byrds material. Frank Hughes. who had the Electric Collage light Show, did all the psychedelic lighting on the wall behind the stage. Our big thing was to play Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” and fill the place up with purple smoke. The things that I remember most from the whole time are the things that hit my senses: the smell of the incense, the sound of jewelry tinkling.”

The smell of Incense was the first thing Darryl Rhoades noticed about the Catacombs, also. His first encounter with the coffeehouse was as a reporter for his high school newspaper.

“I was very impressionable about it all and thought the ‘vibes’ were real good. so I started hanging out down there. I was in a band (The Celestial Voluptuous Banana) and tried to get gigs down there. When we started playing there these plastic dudes and chicks from Georgia Tech would ask me. ‘Hey cat! Do you know if I can score?’ So people would sell them fake drugs—like oregano for marijuana—and they’d get off on it and come back for more.”

The Catacombs was also one of the first places for Atlanta’s legendary Hampton Grease Band to play. While most bands filled the room with psychedelic sounds of Jimi Hendrix. Cream and the Doors, the Grease band would come onstage and blast old blues songs at the crowd.

“That was at a time when we used to tear stuff up.” recalls Grease Band guitarist Glenn Phillips. “Hampton smashed a guitar through the ceiling one night and another night we pulled a water pipe out of the ceiling and water went all over the place. Before the 12th Gate, that was the best place to play.”

While most musicians who played the Catacombs have good memories. one. who asked to remain nameless. was shocked just at the mention of the place.

“The Catacombs—the pits.” he exclaimed’. “I had to quit going there because my skin would break out all over. it was a pretty confusing time. The audience didn’t like anybody and there were all these crazy hicks from McDonough pouring in there. It was pretty frightening.”

One idea they all agree on—which may have led to its closing—was the direction the club began !o take. Originally a place where a large group of friends hung out together and lived within a four block radius of the place, it began to be overrun by a wide variety of people, many destructive and violent. A gradual change began to occur and one could feel the scene sour. The family atmosphere began to deteriorate-

A major factor in the beginning of the end was the arrest of Mother David.  According to many, he was framed for allegedly selling drugs to a minor, getting him a five-year sentence in prison. Many people maintain that he was not locked up because of drug dealings, but because he was about to expose new Information on the assassination of John F Kennedy.

According to legend. Mother David came into possession of documents supporting Dallas District Attorney Jim Garrison’s prosecution of Clay Shaw on conspiracy charges in connection with the Kennedy shooting. Mother David supposedly got the papers from someone who picked up a briefcase belonging to a federal agent who was shot in the Catacombs parking lot one night. Mother David bought a Harris- Seybold-Potter Co, offset printer to reproduce the documents. Coincidently—or purposely according to legend—Mother David was arrested and jailed on the drug charge before he was able to raise the money to convert the World War II surplus map-making machine into a press.

The club was then taken over by a man who ran the club at a gross of what he claimed to be $100.000 on coffee, cokes and cheese plates. Much of the money was used to get people out of jail and help reestablish others.

In late ’68 the Catacombs property. owned by Howard Massell. was purchased by Selig Realtors. Selig decided the club was not befitting of their image, claimed the basement lease between Massell and the leasee invalid, and closed a chapter in Atlanta history.

Now. a decade later. Mother David, after a brief visit to Atlanta following his release from prison, has completely vanished. The musicians that once played the small stage have furthered their careers. Michael Brown has formed the Para Band with its single getting strong airplay. Darryl Rhoades. founder of the successful Hahavishunu Orchestra. is grouping together a new band. The Hampton Grease Band, after releasing their double record debut, Music to Eat, split up, with Glenn Phillips releasing two albums in Europe and Bruce Hampton  recently releasing an album. Ellen McIllwaine, after moving from city to city, came back to Atlanta with four records to her credit,

The Catacombs’ lease has been taken up by Fred Holloway. and his plans are to reopen the club New Year’s Eve.

A recent visit to the Catacombs revealed that the room has been virtually untouched since the doors were locked 10 years ago. Holloway. In his efforts to reopen the club, has had the original psychedelic wall paintings traced over and repainted. Many of the paintings were repaired by the original artists. Though the City Health Dept. has ordered the walls to be sandblasted so chipping and peeling paint will not fall in food or drink. Holloway is covering the artwork with glass and wooden frames to preserve the authenticity.

Holloway’s plans to reopen the basement club do not come as a move to go into competition with Rose’s Cantina or the Downtown Cafe but to bring a neighborhood bar with a nostalgic past to the rapidly reconstructing 10th-l4th Street “Strip” of Peachtree.

“I’ve been trying to get this building for five years.” he said. “and now that I’ve got it, I want everybody who used to frequent it in the Sixties to experience what they can of it once again.”

According to the once long-haired Holloway. who. ironically, owns For Heads Only. the hair-cutting room on the street level of the building, many of the lawyers and young businessmen working across the street in Colony Square were once the long-hairs who breathed the incense in his basement during their youth.

“They’ve all told me they will support the club, if just to be able to have the bartender call them by name.”

—Tony Paris

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Lambda Sigma Deltan Fred Holloway with guitar case