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.