Grateful Dead Videos/lyrics: Bird Song from Radio City, NYC 1980, Eyes of the world at Giants Stadium 6-17-91, and Peggy O inVegas 6-26-94

Click J.J. to enlarge

The Grateful Dead perform Birdsong at Radio City Music Hall in 1980. Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia wrote this song about Janis Joplin—not long after her death. I'll put the lyrics following the video.




Bird Song

By Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter

All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew on,
Tell me all that you know, I'll show you snow and rain.

If you hear that same sweet song again, will you know why?
Anyone who sings a tune so sweet is passin' by,
Laugh in the sunshine, sing, cry in the dark, fly through the night.

Don't cry now, don't you cry, don't you cry anymore.
Sleep in the stars, don't you cry, dry your eyes on the wind.

All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew off,
Tell me all that you know, I'll show you snow and rain.
__________________________

Fourteen years later, in Las Vegas, on 6-26-94, the Dead perform Peggy O a/k/a Fennario. Jerry's voice is fragile, but he plays an excellent solo on this moving tune, and even his delivery adds to the tenderness of the song.





Peggy O - American folk song

As we rode out to fennario, as we rode on to Fennario
Our captain fell in love with a lady like a dove
And called her by a name, pretty Peggy-O.

Will you marry me pretty Peggy-O, will you marry me pretty Peggy-O
If you will marry me, I'll set your cities free
And free all the ladies in the are_-O.

I would marry you sweet William-O, I would marry you sweet William-O
I would marry you but your guineas are too few
And I fear my mama would be angry-O.

What would your mama think pretty Peggy-O,
What would your mama think pretty Peggy-O,
What would your mama think if she heard my guineas clink
Saw me marching at the head of my soldiers.

If ever I return pretty Peggy-O, if ever I return pretty Peggy-O
If ever I return your cities I will burn
Destroy all the ladies in the area-O.

Come steppin' down the stairs pretty Peggy-O,
Come steppin' down the stairs pretty Peggy-O,
Come steppin' down the stairs combin' back your yellow hair
Bid a last farewell to your William-O.

Sweet William he is dead pretty peggy-O, sweet William he is dead pretty Peggy-O,
Sweet William he is dead and he died for a maid
And he's buried in the Louisiana country-O.

As we rode out to fennario, as we rode out to Fennario
Our captain fell in love with a lady like a dove,
And called her by a name, pretty Peggy-O
_______________________________________



The Dead perform Eyes Of The World at Giants Stadium 0n 6-17-91, almost a year after Brent Mydland's death. Bruce Hornsby joined the band for the next year or so, helping to break the new pianist Vince Welnick (R.I.P.) in. The breaking in never worked, but it was always wonderful to see Bruce in the band, and many of their late shows became great due to the interaction between Hornsby and Garcia. Bruce knew his way around the Steinway.



Eyes of the World
by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter

Right outside this lazy summer home
you ain't got time to call your soul a critic no.
Right outside the lazy gate of winter's summer home,
wond'rin' where the nut-thatch winters,
wings a mile long just carried the bird away.

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
the heart has it's beaches, it's homeland and thoughts of it's own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin' brings,
But the heart has it's seasons, it's evenin's and songs of it's own.

There comes a redeemer, and he slowly too fades away,
And there follows his wagon behind him that's loaded with clay.
And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay,
and night comes so quiet, it's close on the heels of the day.

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
the heart has it's beaches, it's homeland and thoughts of it's own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin' brings,
But the heart has it's seasons, it's evenin's and songs of it's own.

Sometimes we live no particular way but our own,
And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home,
sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone,
sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own.

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
the heart has it's beaches, it's homeland and thoughts of it's own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin' brings,
But the heart has it's seasons, it's evenin's and songs of it's own
---o0o---

Stuart Miller of the UFO Review speaks out about the inter-UFOlogist sniping

One of my favorite sites for UFOlogy is the UFO Review, edited by Stuart Miller. They cover a wide range of paranormal and UFO, and cover the skeptics as well as the fanatic believers. They even link to All This Is That when we publish an article in the Alien Lore series, or art on the UFO or Grey phenomenon. In an editorial yesterday Stuart Miller wisely addressed the UFO wars here on earth:

"My criticisms are directed to those who are convinced science is the answer to the subject of UFOs. It is if we’re dealing with natural phenomena; it isn’t if we aren’t."

---o0o---

Seafair in Seattle & lyrics to the old folk song: What Do We Do With A Drunken Sailor

It's Seafair week in Seattle. When I was young, this was the event of the year: The Torchlight Parade, The Greenwood Parade, The Pirates landing at Alki Beach, and, of course, the hydroplane races, and, in later years. the appearance of the Blue Angels flying all over town in formation.

This is the week the Navy arrives too. You still see sailors walking around town once in a while, but during Seafair, the fleet comes in, usually several ships and submarines, and you see hundreds of sailors in dress whites looking for------------well, who knows what? Seeing one of the big ships reminds me of this folk song we used to sing in school and Boy Scouts. I doubt if it is much sung anymore due to political correctness considerations.

What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor

What Shall we do with the Drunken Sailor
What shall we do with the drunken sailor
What shall we do with the drunken sailor
What shall we do with the drunken sailor
Early in the morning?

Hoo-ray and up she rises
Hoo-ray and up she rises
Hoo-ray and up she rises
Early in the morning

Shake him take him try to wake him . .

Shake him take him try to wake him . .

Early in the morning

Give him lashings with a rope end ..
Bathe his wounds with salty water . .
Sling him in the long boat till he's sober . .
Pull out the plug and wet him all over . .
Put him below until he's sober . .
Get a hose and wet him all over . .
Shave his tummy with a rusty razor . .
Send him up the crow's nest until he falls down . .

That's what we'll do with the drunken sailor
That's what we'll do with the drunken sailor

Early in the morning.

---o0o---

Painting: Us, now 2-3-2007

click to enlarge

Poem: Why I won't run for President

Because of my past
And because of my present
Because who knows what might come out
Because I will say almost anything for a laugh
Because who has the time to raise $200 million
Because I would work to repeal the 2nd amentment
Because I would also work to repeal the 22nd amendment
Because much of my platform begins "mass involuntary _____"
Because I would mandate mandatory music at least five hours a day
Because we could never build enough holding tanks, prisons, camps, and islands of exile
---o0o---

All This Is That Reheated: My Grandma's tavern in Carnation, Wash.

Since I am on the road today, it's time to heat up some leftovers... /jack in Eugene, OR

Not long ago, I wrote here about my Great Uncle Guy Huber, his visits to Kent, Washington, and, of course, his wooden leg. I also wrote about my Grandpa Dell, last year, and how I teethed on his hook arm when I was a baby...

Grandma Vera Galvin was Uncle Guy's sister, and Grandpa Dell was my Grandma's third, and final, husband. Alas, I don't have many tales to tell of my Grandma. She died in either 1961 or 1962. My mother is not all that forthcoming about her exploits, and wouldn't answer several questions I posed (or said "please don't write about that"), sticking mainly to the bare biographical facts. This was much different than when I pumped her for information on Uncle Guy. In fact, I don't have a lot of memories of her either.

Grandma Galvin is pictured in this photograph at a bar she owned in Carnation, Washington. Carnation was a small village in 1949, when she bought the bar on the town's main street. She owned it for about ten years. Also in the picture, with his one hand on the register, is Grandpa Dell Galvin. They must have been about my age in the photo.

All my life, I've been fascinated by her owing a bar. When I was a kid, women seemed to rarely even go to bars, let alone own one. But then again, most grandmothers didn't get married three times either, or drink beer. There must have been some vein of iconoclasm in the family, since my mom ended up being a Rosie The Riveter during WW II, and eventually a U.S. Marine.

The bar is a little spooky. . .but that's mainly the taxidermy I think. . .there is definitely a stuffed owl, and I'm not sure if the other birds are pheasants or wild turkeys. . .or what? They look too small for grouse. Aanother critter at the left end of the bar could be a porcupine, a marmot, a wild baby boar?

When I knew her, Grandma drove a grey 1948 Plymouth. I remember several occasions sitting next to her driving somewhere. I also remember there was a "church key" for opening beer cans on her dashboard. I don't remember ever seeing her without a can of beer wrapped in a paper bag. She lived in a cottage (my mom calls it a shack) in Carnation.

She started the coal stove every morning--fat lumps of greasy coal kindled with tissues. The house had plumbing; I well remember the houses that didn't--and the cold treks to a fantastically rank outhouse. One of my only other memories of visiting her in Carnation was having breakfast with one of Del's daughters, who also lived in Carnation. She gave me half a grapefruit. I don't think I'd ever seen one before. I know I hadn't eaten one. They squirted. I liked it.

Dell died of a brain tumor in the late '50s, and Grandma sold her bar. Or maybe she went broke. Grandma Galvin was now retired, and was just about to move in with my family in Kent, when she went into a diabetic coma and died in about 1961. I remember my dad telling me one morning that she had passed away.

It was years before I could really tell the difference between passing away and passing out. Passing out from drink was not unheard of in my circles and yet even then, at say, the age of nine, I could smell a whiff of it--you sense the people passing out are treading an tenuous chasm between being numb and being gone.
--------o0o--------







Posted by Jack Brummet at Thursday, January 26, 2006

________________________________________________

7 comments: Kev said...
The 50's are becoming a long time ago, aren't they? I love the photos almost as much as the reflections they accompany. This pic is a particularly great one. I am struck at how small the bar itself was. How many stools, 10 or 12, do you think? Carnation had to have been a speck of a town when your grandma owned the bar. Does your mom remember its name?

You must have heard that Frank Colum Curran owned and operated a bar in or around Hillyard in the the 30's, I think. The story is nearly mythic in the annals of my family. As Tony told it, Frank, with garrulous charm, was building so great a following that he threatened the livlihood of a well connnected rival before he was run out of business. The rival called in some political favors and had Cheery Frank's hounded for bogus operating infractions, such as serving alcohol to a minor when it was still permissible for youngsters to accompany their guardians to the gin mill. Though WA, unlike NY, made distintions between taverns and bars and stricly speaking your grandmother's Frank's establishments were taverns and restricted to serving beer and wine.

Anyway Frank was popped so frequently by this cabal of evil Hillyardians that it put put him of business. The paranoic streak runs deep among some in our family, as you have witnessed frist hand.

There is a more prosaic story to explain Frank's failure in the bar trade; Grandma Helen didn't approve of the comapany nor the hours he kept while barman and threatened to leave him. For sure, Tony's story doesn't square with the curmudgeon Frank became but Hillyard must have been home to many malcontents whose only explanation for their choice in domicile was the sprocket of Great Northern rail track that concluded their in a jumble of hardship. They couldn't have found a more sympathetic ear for their disappointments than the flinty Donegal orphan and runaway from the PA coal mines. Irish Cheer, indeed!

Keep up the Betty and Jack Chronicles, there's a gold mine there, Jackie.

Thursday, January 26, 2006
Jack Brummet said...
Hey Kev - Yeah, it had to be pretty small, just judging by the size of the backbar...my mom couldn't remember the name for sure, but thought it was "Pete's Place."

I indeed know about FC Curran's bar. I've been there. In fact, I think Pete and I shot some video footage there, on the same day we shot the house in Morgan Acres, and some other sites of Curran interest.

I have heard a little of the powers that be harrassing Frank out of the business. I have also heard it was, as you alluded to, Helen...

I have heard of the dark side and the light side. I met him numerous times over the years, and he was always in a mood ranging from bemusement to outright hilarity. I remember him introducing himself--and he had to be at least 85-90 at the time, as the family homosexual. I remember him dancing at our wedding when he had to be 90. I have read his fabulous blarney-filled letters to Keelin and others. And I have heard hints from Uncle John, Aunt Maureen and others of the darker, angrier Frank.

On the whole, though they keep the legacy petty upbear and chipper. Just as my mom would not discuss certain episodes and aspects of her mom...

There is no doubt more to the Frank Curran story than we know.

Thursday, January 26, 2006
Kev said...
I had forgotten, but howled, at your reminder of Frank's boast about his sexual orientation. I believe he made this comment at your wedding, too.

I have a vivid memory of him ca 1974 or 1975, summertime. Sean, Tony and I went on a drive in Tony's pickup to see Grandpa. We spotted Grandpa Frank striding, I mean really charging, along a gritty commercial street on the southeastern edge of Hillyard. We persuaded him to hop in and he then insisted on heading to the bar.

It was early, probably around noon, when we started drinking. He drank straight shots, Tony had whiskey on the rocks and I was swilling Millers. Our approximate ages were 83, 46 & 21. We left Sean in the truck outside. Frank grew more and more ornery with each shot and had begun to smart off to Tony and this 30ish bar hound who seemed to genuinely hate him. When Grandpa dropped his tam and asked the young guy to pick it up, the fellow shot back "pick it up yourself, old man".

Anyway Sean had an American Legion ballgame to play and he went off in Tony's truck after we arranged to borrow Frank's 53 Chevy so that we could attend Sean's game later. I ran to Grandpa' and got the car and returned to the bar. We told Grandpa it was time to go and balked. He insisted on staying but Tony wouldn't let him because Grandpa was already pretty lit up. We carried him to the car and boy did that piss him off. You know, even stoop shouldered at 80, Frank was well over 6' though rail thin. As we carried him up the steps to his house he was hopped up like a wet cat. We left him at home and went to Sean's ballgame.

The next morning I got a call from Grandpa. He asked, "when you return my car will you stop at the bar to pick up my glasses?" I thought he had lost it. I said "Grandpa you had your glasses when we dropped you off at home, they couldn't be at the bar". He insisted, so I stopped by that Sunday afternoon and the bartender reported that he had found the glasses in the alley. Apparently Grandpa had returned to the bar and continued his harnangue and had gotten into a a scrape with somebody in the alley behind the bar. When I saw there was no mistaking that. He was pretty battered up around the ears and and the side of his face. He didn't make much of it but did acknowledge that someone was making trouble for him and he went to settle the disagreement outside.

Friday, January 27, 2006
Jack Brummet said...
That is such a great story! At 83, he was still putting up his dukes.

Of course this story should end

"You should have seen the other guy!"

Friday, January 27, 2006
Cuz said...
Johnnie I'm pretty sure that is how the story did end. My recall is that the next day Grampa Frank did say "you should have seen the other guy" I remember because it's a classic line but that was the first time I heard it.

Friday, January 27, 2006
Jack Brummet said...
I'm glad! It really did have to end that way...

Friday, January 27, 2006
Al Arntsen said...
This is really no fair. Why do you get all the great relative stories? I couldn't come up with anything about my family like this.

Monday, January 30, 2006
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Links to this post My Elementary School Teachers, Part 1: As The Twig Is Bent
"As the twig is bent the tree inclines," Virgil wrote. Schoolteachers do just about more twig-bending than anyone. Mine were no exception. In elementary school, the teachers were mostly benign; I didn't get into the real sadist, misfit, ...
Posted byJack Brummet atThursday, February 22, 2007
Growing Up & Having Grown-->True Tales from *All This Is That*

V.P. Cheney: "I was wrong"

For perhaps the first time since he shot his friend, Austin attorney Harry Whittington, Vice President Dick Cheney acknowledged on Tuesday that he has made a mistake. He said that he was wrong in 2005 when he insisted the insurgency in Iraq was in its "last throes."




It was Cheney's first real public admission of what everyone else seems to already know: The Administration badly bungled in their estimation of the strength of America's enemies in the unpopular war in Iraq. The architect of the war, and Shadow President made the admission in an interview on CNN's "Larry King Live."



Other articles on All This Is That about the Vice-President:

Painting: Menage a trois - Secretary Condoleezza Rice, Vice-President Richard B. Cheney, President George W. Bush
Follow-up: Victim of VP's attemped assassination suffers coronary
That's no blood clot: The new Dick Cheney cover-up
White House nude intern scandal―VP Cheney may be implicated
The Time Has Come For George W. Bush And Dick Cheney To Pay The Piper
Dick Cheney Arrives In Iraq To Straighten Out The Warring Factions
Republicans abandoning Bush Bush And Cheney's Cursing Cited In FCC Enforcement Case...NEWSWEEK Poll: Bush hits All-Time Low; 28%...
Cheney to have heart defibrillator replaced...
Some of the players in the Ford Administration
Veep Dick Cheney threatens to resign (again)

White House, Cheney's Office, Subpoenaed
CALLS FOR IMPEACHMENT OF CHENEY AT GEPHARDT EVENT
---o0o---

Poem: Bible Stories 4/The story of a long long journey

The workers abandoned Babylon's tower
When the languages became such a tangled
Mass of confetti that no one understood anyone
And off in Chaldea was another city called Ur
Where the Euphrates and Tigris merge
Abram lived in Ur and Abram was God's boy
He prayed and tried to do right by The Lamplighter
But the people of Ur prayed to wood idols
They thought could hear their prayers
They did not call on God and lived a wicked life
Breaking the ten commandments was sport in Ur
If they weren’t drunk they were high
Fornication abounded and thievery thrived
No one would tell the truth if a lie was handy
They worshipped scat and had sex with the beasts
They killed they maimed and blinded and amnputated
God did not want Abram's family in such a place
For they too might become wicked
And God said
Gather your family Abram and go out from this place
Far far away to a place I will show you
Where your family will become a great people
And I will bless you and make your name great
Do as I command
And the families of earth
Will obtain a blessing through you
After many years and even more begetting Abram's family
Became the Israelites and Abram's family
Would one day bless the world with Jesus
But Abram was still unsure what the blessing would be
And yet he obeyed God and marched off
To an unknown land with his family
His very old father Terah and his wife Sarai
His brother Nahor and his wife and nephew Lot
Abram took his tents flocks of sheep and herds of cattle
On a long journey to a land
Of which he did not even know the name
He journeyed far up the Euphrates
To the mountains and a country called Mesopotamia
Which means between the rivers
At Haran they stopped there because Terah
Was too old to take one more step
And they stayed until Terah passed on
Abram's brother Mahor stayed in Haran
With his family and children and children's children
Abram and Lot turned toward the southwest
And journeyed past the mountains and the great desert
Until they came into the land of Canaan
Of which God had spoken to Abram
This land would become Israel
Abram and his people did not go
Into the towns to live
But lived in tents in open fields
Where they could find grass for their sheep and cattle
Not far from a city called Shechem Abram set up his tent
Under an oak tree on the plain
The Lord came to Abram, and said
I give this land to your children and to their children
And this shall be their land forever
And Abram built an altar and burned an offering
Letting Big Daddy know I'm with you Chief
All the way to the gates of Hell!
And he worshipped the Lord
Wherever Abram set up his tent he built an altar
And prayed to God because Abram was God's boy.
---o0o---

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None of the above: the top Republican Presidential candidate

Lanky Link is turning triple axels in his grave, considering the

shambles into which his beloved party has fallen

A recent A.P./Ipsos poll found that nearly a quarter of all Republicans are unwilling to back any of the top four hopefuls—Rudy Giuliani, Fred Thompson, John McCain or Mitt Romney—and that nary a candidate is a clear front-runner among Christian evangelicals. The top vote-getter in the G.O.P., so far, is "none of the above."

The moribund G.O.P. not only can't make up their minds about a candidate, but they seem to he hanging onto their shekels, piastres, and pesos. The Democrats have thus far raised far more cash--$80 million against a meager $50 million in the most recent quarter, as they also did in the previous period (Jan.-March 2007).

"Democrats are reasonably comfortable with the range of choices. The Democratic attitude is that three or four of these guys would be fine," David Redlawsk, a University of Iowa political scientist. "The Republicans don't have that; particularly among the conservatives there's a real split."

More Republicans have become apathetic about their options over the past month. 23 percent can't or won't say which candidate they would back, a jump from the 14 percent who took a pass in June.

Interestingly for the party of "the family," the three-times married Giuliani was still at the top of the polls, followed by Fred Thompson and John McCain, who have each been married twice. Mrs. Giuliani was even recently forced to admit thatRudy was actually her own third marriage. The candidate--Mitt Romney--who actually remained married for 30 years was at the bottom of the polls, in the single digits.

---o0o---

Video and lyrics: The Kinks' Celluloid Heroes

This is a concert video of one of The Kinks great tunes. I always liked the early Kinks songs, but it was this song and this album that turned me into a late and rabid fan. In my first year in college--1973--this album, along with The Grateful Dead's Europe '72, Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's Will The Circle Be Unbroken, a Deep Purple album I can't remember, Humble Pie's Rockin' the fillmore, Yes's Close To The Edge, and the MC5 were in constant rotation.

I was lucky enough to see The Kinks when I lived In New York City--we rented a car and drove out to see them play in Asbury Park, New Jersey (a town with a serious rock patina, thanks to The Boss, Little Steven, and The Asbury Jukes) in 1977...



Celluloid Heroes

Everybody’s a dreamer and everybody’s a star,
And everybody’s in movies, it doesn’t matter who you are.
There are stars in every city,
In every house and on every street,
And if you walk down hollywood boulevard
Their names are written in concrete!

Don’t step on greta garbo as you walk down the boulevard,
She looks so weak and fragile that’s why she tried to be so hard
But they turned her into a princess
And they sat her on a throne,
But she turned her back on stardom,
Because she wanted to be alone.

You can see all the stars as you walk down hollywood boulevard,
Some that you recognise, some that you’ve hardly even heard of,
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame,
Some who succeeded and some who suffered in vain.
Rudolph valentino, looks very much alive,
And he looks up ladies’ dresses as they sadly pass him by.
Avoid stepping on bela lugosi
’cos he’s liable to turn and bite,
But stand close by bette davis
Because hers was such a lonely life.
If you covered him with garbage,
George sanders would still have style,
And if you stamped on mickey rooney
He would still turn round and smile,
But please don’t tread on dearest marilyn
’cos she’s not very tough,
She should have been made of iron or steel,
But she was only made of flesh and blood.

You can see all the stars as you walk down hollywood boulevard,
Some that you recognise, some that you’ve hardly even heard of.
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame,
Some who succeeded and some who suffered in vain.

Everybody’s a dreamer and everybody’s a star
And everybody’s in show biz, it doesn’t matter who you are.

And those who are successful,
Be always on your guard,
Success walks hand in hand with failure
Along hollywood boulevard.

I wish my life was a non-stop hollywood movie show,
A fantasy world of celluloid villains and heroes,
Because celluloid heroes never feel any pain
And celluloid heroes never really die.

You can see all the stars as you walk along hollywood boulevard,
Some that you recognise, some that you’ve hardly even heard of,
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame,
Some who succeeded and some who suffered in vain.

Oh celluloid heroes never feel any pain
Oh celluloid heroes never really die.

I wish my life was a non-stop hollywood movie show,
A fantasy world of celluloid villains and heroes,
Because celluloid heroes never feel any pain
And celluloid heroes never really die.
---o0o---

Code Pink bare their breasts again, this time protesting against Hillary & Speaker Pelosi

click to enlarge the photograph of the protest outside the Speaker's office



Code Pink and Breasts Not Bombs whipped them out this week, protesting Senator Clinton and Speaker Pelosi's inaction on ending the war, and on the impeachment issue. “We want to invoke for them the feminine priorities of nurturing, safety, and justice,” explained Sherry Glaser of Breasts Not Bombs. “The American people are tired of the rising body count and spending $1.8 billion a week on the war in Iraq, and they have made clear their priorities are the health and well being of this nation.”


The radical activists staged a surprise mammary protest to publicize their anti-war message on July 23. As The Hillary Clinton for President Campaign celebrated San Francisco headquarters launch party on July 23, 2007, the activists hit. Earlier in the day, they held a similar demonstration outside the offices of Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi.


The protest continued even after the protesters were ejected from
Clinton HQ - click to enlarge

A curious sidebar: one Democratic Senate aide asked: "Why do all the hot naked protesters just do stuff for PETA?"

Link: sevenload.com - Video of the topless protest at Hillary HQ
---o0o---