Category Archives: People

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Miki Foote and Jeannie Muse

Hi,

From 2 old Hippies who have both lived in The Dump — now living in San Diego — Miki Foote (now Miki Davis) and Jeannie Muse (now Jeannie Canaday) !!!

 Bud Foote and I lived in The Dump (ground floor in what is now the back of the house) from 1961 to late 1964 – early 1965, when Gino Venzani bought it so the House of Eng Chinese restaurant that sat back-to-back with The Dump couldn’t buy it, tear it down, and turn it in to a parking lot.

Gino is also the one who had it declared a National Historical Site so no one could tear it down. He loved that old building. I was living there when Gino first renovated it.  He kept it as apartments for quite some time.

Our son Joseph Nathaniel Foote was born in October 1964 while we were still living there. He now lives in Decatur.

Would you like some pictures of our family taken in The Dump when we lived there?

Hope you got some of Jim Bray’s Art for display.  His studio was on the ground floor in the center in the rear.  Bud Foote and he were great friends.

One night Jim was having a family fight, got drunk, came to The Dump, took all of his paintings out in to the yard, piled them up, poured paint thinner over them and set them on fire.  A couple of the guys who lived there tried to put it out with the garden hose (not very successfully), Naomi Brown decided to get down on her knees and bow to the Great Fire Gods, and it was altogether quite a bonfire party until the fire brigade got there.

Darn near burned down The Dump that night !!

I could tell at LOT MORE stories … but most of them are unpublishable.

Can you put me in touch with Bill Fibben or any of the others.  Only ones I know how to contact in Atlanta now are Van and Martha Hall.

By the way, my daughter Anna Foote (now Anna Copello) sent me the info on this.  She was only a year old when we moved in to the Dump — she now lives in Atlanta near the Plaza Drug Store and will be at the “gathering” on July 26th.

Jeannie and I would give just about anything to be able to be there.  We’ll be think of you all.

I’ll be sending out the info on this to some more of the old crew and I’m sure you all will be hearing from some more of them.

 “Mother” Dave Braden — knew and loved him well.  He lived in The Dump when we did.

Will confer with Jeannie and we’ll send you some info.

If I remember right, he was one of the driving forces of the underground coffee house “The Catacombs.” I remember it well, too …. all black walls, black-light artwork, great wooden platters of cheese and fruit.

So dark in there you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.  Seemed to be a forerunner of “Gothic”! It was in the basement of a house on 14th, between Peachtree and Piedmont, if my memory is still working right.

You really should include info on The Castle in your Web page.  You familiar with it?

How about Baltimore Block.  These were both very much a part of the 60s Hippie community.

Jeannie also has some great pictures — but they’re in her son’s house in Las Vegas.  We’ll try and get them to you soon.

Sorry to hear about Bill Fibben.  Many of the old originals have died:

Bud Foote

Dickie Espina (just last month), wife of Jeff Espina, now a sea captain out of Tampa, FL

Naomi Brown

Ernie Marrs

Jim Bray

(and many more I’m sure I’ve lost track of)

I’ve sent the message on to some of the old timers:  Eleanor Walden, Bill Hoffman, Pat Sky. You may hear from them, too.

Love,

Miki

greg gregory

Oh, my; I am so sorrowfully out of touch. I did not know that John Cippolina had died. He in particular, as well as QuickSilver Messenger Service have been a part of my personal story (you know, the one that makes folks politely drift away when they hear it coming for the fourteenth time) since 1968.

Actually, it was with John’s mother I first spoke. He was in the shower. She relayed conversation back and forth, at the end of which I was very excited: John had invited me to the Avalon for their gig that night–guest list, see us in the dressing room (which was not “back” stage, but out front, back a ways, and adjacent to the dance floor). Reason being–I was under recent indictment (May ’68; this was maybe mid-late summer) for “refusal to submit to physical examination for the purposes of induction into the armed forces of the savior of the free world…lada,lada, lada). The purpose of the meeting at the Avalon was to see if there were some way that QSD could play for–my trial!

Well, that never happened, even though John thought it worth looking into. I always have remembered (obviously) the way they treated me. I think John said, in response to my gratitude for inviting me to meet with them, something about how they were only musicians–but I was really stepping out to fight against that war that truly exemplified the “Pride of Man.” (That, of course, was the song that gave me the idea.) So I miss him, I miss the easy confidence that somewhere, probably in Marin Co. he’s getting old (we were born the same year), regrouping with the old crew. But he’s not.

I offer this tribute so that others of his fans may know that he cared about the humanity of this planet, in those dangerous (but truly alive!) days. -greg gregory 

[Greg Gregory and David Harris , the husband of Joan Baez, were tried at the same time for draft refusal. Greg Greg convinced the jury  of his convictions and was given a conscientious objector status; David got jail.  Greg, wife Bobby, son Quint and his rolling stuffed seal toy named Seal of the Woodstock Nation moved to Atlanta and worked for The Great Speckled Bird. They were my neighbors and later Greg hired me at Richard Abel book distribution center where several friends from Little Five Points also worked. The old sign out back said, “No Parking! Violaters will be Toad!” – very amusing when discovered stoned. Greg was an early mover and shaker in the Little Five Points B.O.N.D. neighborhoods organization that laid the groundwork for making the neighborhoods humanly liveable.]

Miller Francis

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Photo by Dee McCargo

Miller Francis was at most basic, the music reviewer for The Great Speckled Bird. He is almost the first journalist to note Duane Allman and The Allman Brothers Band as something special. Rolling Stone Oct 4, 1969 pg. 18 Excerpt From The Underground Press ( a special report) [WHITE RACISM IN OURSELVES] One of the best rock and roll writers the underground has produced is Miller Francis, Jr., of The Great Speckled Bird in Atlanta. Francis is unique in his ability to place rock in the perspective of the revolution. Equally committed to the Movement and to rock and roll, Francis demands nothing but the best from both. This was how he reviewed the first MC-5 album: “The new, long-awaited MC-5 album is a disaster. Its very existence demonstrates perhaps the greatest weakness of the Movement in this country: its inability to understand, thus to make use of, the communications media, particularly the one that is by its very nature a ‘Movement music’—rock and roll music … At its best the MC-5 is an emasculated version of what the Who did years, ago; at its worst it is a pasty EPSON scanner imagefaced derivative of black music (as if we needed yet another minstrel group!). The MC-5, who I understand were a white rhythm and blues group before they were ‘revolutionized’ by John Sinclair, have simply wheeled their grimy Detroit vehicle up to a Black Power station and said ‘Fill ‘er up.’ They play with their hands and feet, not with their guts and soul. They are smug, not proud . . . That white radicals can be turned on by this farce sadly demonstrates how far we must go before we can approach the problem of white racism in ourselves and in our communities without guilt and intimidation.”

Miller Francis interview

t_img150 Miller Francis grew up in Anniston, Alabama in a working class family. He was in high school when a Freedom Rider bus was attacked and burned just outside of town. Inspired by Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird, he studied fiction writing at the University of Alabama. He watched as Governor George Wallace took his stand for racial segregation in the schoolhouse door, and he met Vivian Malone and James Hood after they were admitted as students. He joined thousands at a rally in the former capitol of the Confederacy to welcome those who had marched for civil rights from Selma to Montgomery.

Freed from the bullying that had plagued his hometown years, Miller came out to his college friends and soon developed a “second family” of freethinkers, misfits and hippies. At his Army physical, after much soul-searching, he declared himself homosexual, and because of his opposition to the Vietnam War, a conscientious objector. To his surprise, the Army responded by denying him either status, and in 1967 he refused induction into the burning_busmilitary. Intending to leave for Canada, he married his best friend in a large, public Wed-In on the campus quadrangle, held on the release date of The Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. After deciding to stay in the US and fight his case in court, and he settled in Atlanta. There, he was arrested, and the ACLU provided legal defense. When the Army ordered a second physical exam, as required by Alabama law, he was declared 4F for reasons of health, and all charges were dropped only weeks before trial was to begin. As forces for radical change gained momentum in the Sixties, Miller moved from fiction writing and bet_img153came more active politically, writing only non-fiction, and continuing to demonstrate for civil rights and against the Vietnam War. He lived for a time in an Atlanta commune called The Heathen Rage, and wrote music and film reviews for The Great Speckled Bird, a weekly underground newspaper with national impact. Some of his articles were reprinted by other underground papers, and he also contributed briefly to Rolling Stone and Creem (including a review of Music To Eat by The Hampton Grease Band). He covered national events such as the Woodstock Music Festival, the Memphis Blues Festival and the Ann Arbor Blues & Jazz Festival. His enthusiastic “discovery” account of The Allman Brothers Band’s first performance in Piedmont Park is still being quoted (Scott Freeman, Midnight Riders: The Story of the Allman Brothers Band). As early as 1969, Rolling Stone Magazine called Miller “one of the best rock and roll writers the underground has produced. . .unique in his ability to place rock in the perspective of the revolution”. In his book on the underground press, The Paper Revolutionaries, Laurence Leamer called Miller t_img151“the most articulate of the cultural radicals. [He] maneuvers the symbols of cultural radicalism with the subtlety and sureness of Marx working with the tools of economic determinism.”

As new social movements began to develop, Miller wrote articles articulating the oppression of women and homosexuals, contributing some of the earliest statements of what soon came to be called the Gay Liberation Movement. Miller was divorced in the early 70s. For several years, he worked as a legal secretary at the Southern Regional Office of the ACLU and the Atlanta Legal Aid Society, and later held a number of different jobs–mill worker, county court transcriber and computer typesetter. After he left The Bird, he visited then-socialist China in 1973 as part of a delegation from the U.S.-People’s Friendship Association. As the era of the Sixties ebbed, Miller broke from identity politics for a broader vision of social change. From 1982 to 1996, he was DJ/host of Revolution Rock (By All Music Necessary) at listener-supported radio station WRFG EPSON scanner imageAtlanta 89.3 FM. In addition to playing punk rock and other forms of music on the cutting edge at the time, he conducted in-depth interviews with world class musicians such as Fela Kuti, Henry Rollins, KRS-One and The Clash’s Joe Strummer. Promoter Steve Harris described Revolution Rock as one of the shows that “exemplify radio pushed to its highest potential. . .Francis’ well-researched and tasteful presentation allows the music to communicate the message, avoiding the obvious pitfalls of political proselytizing.” Miller lives in Atlanta and is currently separated. For over twenty years, he has worked in the video library archives at CNN. In a return to fiction writing, he spent the last several years completing a novel, If Heaven’s Not My Home, which is set in a small town in Alabama in 1957.

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

FOIBLES TO ADE PEOPLE -og, king ofbashan-

9/29/1969

FOIBLES TO ADE PEOPLE: L1

One day in Municipal Court the Judge looked down over his Bench an there was a Liddle Old Lady in a wheelchair with a big old Bandage around her headbone an a sling on her Arm an a Trained Nurse standin by holdin plasma which was flowin into her other Arm and the Judge says like this My goodness madam whatever Happened to you? An a Cop standin by says Judge this is the way it happened an the Judge says shut up son i ast this Lady here an i will Talk to you Later.

So the liddle ol lady says Judge we citizens really need protection from Riff and Raff these days why the ‘”Streets ain’t safe for Decent People no more an the Judge says well yes i hev heard Somethin like That but i am sure that our Noble Bluecoats are doin the Best they can an the Lady says well Maybe so but when a Honest liddle ol Lady like I cant roll the streets in her Wheelchair without bein set upon by Hoodlums why something must be Did an the Judge says kindly-like well How did it Happen? , .

Well says the Liddle ol Lady i was rollin down the sidewalk at Fourteenth an Peachtree the Other day (Oh wow says the Judge that is a bad Neighborhood; you are Tellin me says the lady with the Bandages) an i was On my Way to the store for my Bosco when a Feller comes ‘up to Me an says Hey liddle ol lady in a power wheelchair, how about I turn you on? an I says I am runnin priddy good up to now, thank you, but if I feel like I am shuttin off 1 will contact you, son (an the Judge says So it was the Dope Pushers what jumped on you an Beated you up about the Head an Shoulders an rendered you into a Hospital Case; i always Knew them Potblowers an morninggloryseedchewers an Opium Smokers was up to No Good: an the ol lady says No it was not this Young Gentleman at all, let me Tell you: an the Judge says Excuse Me, go on with your Story) so she goes on:

So i Roll down the Street a Liddle Ways an here Comes a young man with Long Hair an a Beard an purple Fingernails an he is Sellin Papers an he says like this:

Bird, lady? an I say I hev a parakeet but he says Nasty Words an i am Thinkin of Gettin Rid of Him an the young man says Ha Ha well I guess you do not want this Bird Either because sometimes it does too an I say oh really well Maybe I will take it because it Might keep my parakeet company an Besides it is funny to wake up at Night an hear the Liddle Dear goin kahkah to His self (an the Judge sed so it was the Pornography Merchants what did you in; I always figured they Read they Own stuff an get all charged Up an go roarin out into the Public Thoroughfares intent on Rapin the first Passerby: it must hev been Awful for you; no such Luck says the Liddle 01 Lady an if you will jus Hush your Mouth i will tell you how it Happened.)

Priddy soon, she says, I begin to near music in the Direction of the Park an so I roll on over in that Direction; i am really enjoy in the Music when i get there because see I am deaf an it has been a long Time since I hev been where there is Music i can hear; though to Tell you the Truth some thin is goin wrong with my Glasse. hippys run amok an stomped you into the Piedmont Sod; no says the Lady, let me tell you)

Well she says 1 was listenin to the Music an watchin the kids dance, an somebody was Burnin somethin that made a Awful priddy smell an 1 was breathin deep an jus bein out in Nature like that made me feel Real Good; when all of a Sudden i was somehow just Overcome with Emotion an begun to Cry. An i noticed that Several Young People aroun me was beginnin to Cry too an 1 thought how Nice that was an how nex time I came I wood bring a book an read them some of the Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning; an priddy soon Everybody was Cryin an boohooin an blubberin an I took off my glasses an dropped them an Then i was in Bad Shape because I couldnt see nothin: but through the smoke an haze i did see a Blue Uniform an i rolled over that Way an said like this Officer could you help me Find my Glasses’.’

An he said like this Oh Wise Guy Eh an the first thing I know I wake up in jail an it turns out I have a busted head an nineteen Stitches an a creased clavicle an a bunch of Charges filed against me, namely usin dope resistin arrest, assaultin a officer, wisein off to a Bluecoat, an Leavin the Scene of a Accident. An i think, the lady winds up, that somebody is goin aroun in the Uniform of the Atlanta Police Department an doin all kinds of bad Numbers on People; an that if the ciddy dont want to Lose its Good Name, they Better do somethin about it.

Moral: Violence is Addictive: an the innocent Policeman who starts out with a Liddle Harmless drunk-beatin or hippy-roustin or n_gger-sluggin may eventually Fall into Bad Habits.

-og, king ofbashan-

Bongo

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Bongo photo by Carter Tomassi

Hippie Monk. Bongo read about the Diggers and said,” I can do that!”. He began feeding hordes of hippies, runaways, soldiers, whoever came, every weekend in Piedmont.

bongoPeter Jenkins says he acquired the name Bongo from leading drum circles in Texas. He wore out his welcome with local Texas persecution and was headed through Atlanta when the outrageous people on The Strip caught his attention and he decided to stay.bongo-39_29 copy-1

bongo6 bongo5Bongo ran free food on weekends and was instrumental in initiating the Crisis Center, worked as a liaison for runaways with The Bridge as well as running several crashpads. In Byron at the 2nd Atlanta International Pop Festival he was in charge of the overdose clinic  saving minds. He was a the forefront of efforts to keep hard drugs out of the Atlanta Hip Community.

One of the first Greens, Bongo was always on a bicycle and was considered a little brother by the real Bikers. This enabled him to aid in cooling confrontations on The Strip.

Later Peter , as Treeman, started tree climbing which grew into Tree Climbers International and has gone global. Peter is still a flurry of activity and a very positive force in the community.

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Bird Bash 2008 Peter and Patti Jenkins

A tip of the aviator’s cap to Bongo for all the good.Bongo IMG_2486

Listen to Bongo interview

Bongo debates Lester Maddox in Piedmont Park news conference! Lester leaves.BongoMaddox4