![]() “It’s too depressing if you don’t get in.” What bothered me as we searched for the freeway was if the Guru of Ganja couldn’t cop a New Year’s ticket, what made us think we could? He gave us a tour of his magical cactus garden and some words of advice about attending New Year’s shows without tickets. On New Year’s Eve day, Ed and I visited High Times’ Guru of Ganja, Ed Rosenthal, who lives in Oakland. ![]() It’s up to the cats.” Would Branford be my miracle passage into the Coliseum? “It’s gonna be tight,” he cautioned. After staring at me quizzically (like, “What the hell are you doing here?”), he asked, “What’s wrong with the Knicks, man?” In between sets, Branford explained that “Dark Star” is his favorite Dead song and the main thing he likes about the Dead is “their vibe.”Ībout the upcoming New Year’s gig, Branford told me, “We go on sometime around eight. The next day, I tracked Branford down at a nearby jazz club where his quartet was jamming nightly. When I heard Branford was in town, I figured I was in. Since then we’ve become friends, chatting at Knick games, even throwing a football around one Saturday afternoon in Brooklyn. A few years back, I interviewed Branford for an article about his mo’ famous brother, Wynton. The news that Branford Marsalis-the brilliant jazz saxophonist who guested with the Dead in April ’90-would be opening the New Year’s show topped off our heady day. The mellowness-quite a change from East Coast harshness-was contagious. We hung out in the hallways with the space dancers and spinners, with children and their folks at a makeshift Rainbow-style Kid Village. The highlight of a rather laid-back show was “China Cat Sunflower,” which opened the second set (amazingly, Maria and Rick of CAN both predicted this would happen). It didn’t take long for us to run into the hemp folks on the vending lot-Jack Herer in one corner, Cannabis Action Network in the other, both doing their own thing. We landed in Oaktown three hours before showtime. It had snowed pretty heavily the night before, but the runway was clear. We were booked.įriday morning, December 28, Ed and I took off for Cali. Don’t worry.”Įd’s ticket request came back empty, but my friend was able to score a pair for the Friday night show. Then I went to High Times editor Steve Hager and suggested the magazine send me out to California to cover the shows. I called another friend who lives in the Bay Area and asked him to make ticket inquiries on our behalf. Ed immediately fired out a money order for tickets. I came up with the plan to hop the airbus and join our Deadhead family in Mecca for the New Year’s shows. ![]() “Can’t remember a good one.” And he laughed again. “You’ve had bad New Year’s Eves since?” Ed asked. We threw a series of deranged New Year’s parties when we were in college.) Those were the best New Year’s Eves.” (Ed and I grew up together in New York. In fact, I have a history of bad New Year’s Eves-ever since the parties we had. “I probably should have told you that I generally don’t have very good luck on New Year’s. There was only one word for our collective state: bummed. I was absolutely convinced that, miracle of miracles, we’d find a way to get in to the New Year’s Eve Grateful Dead show at the Oakland Coliseum-despite arriving without ducats.īut we failed, and so there we were sitting in our rental car in the parking lot, listening to the show on the radio. I had neglected to tell my friend Ed a little dark secret of mine. In the May, 1991 issue of High Times, Steve Bloom writes about trying to get in to a Grateful Dead show on New Year’s Eve.
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