This picture and the one below it might have been a single
photograph, the only one with the four of us playing together,
or doing anything whatever, in a single shot. However, there was
no room for whoever took this picture to step back far enough to
get a panoramic shot. (It was not taken by Ellen, who was not
with us this night.) The second shot, taken seconds later (or
earlier), includes David Rosenboom, but excludes me.
The occasion was some rich person's holiday party in upper class
suburbia. As I recall, it was during the week between Christmas
and New Year in December 1967. Our manager Jim Mohr got us this
job, but I don't think we actually got paid for it, other than
Jim's continued support, which was substantial.
I recall something being said about a football player for the
Buffalo Bills -- either the host was a player, or a player lived
in the neighborhood and was present. Those were in the days when
O.J. Simpson was a big Bills star. (It definitely wasn't O.J.'s
house!)
We're playing in a garage barely big enough for us to fit in and
also allow a half dozen or so people to come in and gawk at us
while standing against the wall we were facing. I guess people
were expected to dance, but that never happened.
The garage was essentially unheated other than whatever heating
was possible by leaving the entry from the house open. It was a
miserably cold night, and the temperature in the garage couldn't
have been much above freezing. We couldn't get the guitar and
bass in tune, much less keep them that way.
It looks like I'm wearing a Boy George dress. It's actually an
army surplus overcoat. I would have worn gloves and a hat if I
could have.
The people at the party were from the other side of the planet
from us ideologically, far removed from the social changes that
were taking place all over the world at that time. They hated
us. They hated our music, for which they could be forgiven, and
they hated our presence at their party.
We came to the job wearing rock and roll clothes. Ellen made
several of the items we were wearing. They held together only
long enough for a couple of performances. A couple of us,
including me, became recipients of some pointed remarks
concerning our clothing between sets.
I have a vague recollection that we played only two short sets.
It was too cold for us to play well, or for anyone to stand
around listening. The noise disturbed the conversation of guests
in the house, and there may have been complaints from the
neighbors as well. We were glad to pack up and get out of there
as soon as we could.