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| Geezer Planet |
I found an article about Groupie Revisionism from THE AUSTIN CHRONICLE from the year 2000.
"In December 1992, culture critic Ann Powers wrote about Pamela Des barres and the groupie phenomenon in The New York Times. Girls like Pamela, Powers wrote, 'transformed hanging out into a form of creative expression', the groupie lifestyle was 'one of the rock era's liveliest, unofficial conceptual art projects."
"Groupies' presence 'was never considered legitimate,' but Powers nonetheless took their side, noting they not only 'embody the contradiction of rock's sexual allure,' but were representative of 'the most extreme example of women's attempt to fashion a space within rock's manly arena'.
I asked a friend of mine, Tammy Newcomb to comment, as we had had some conversations about her days as a GRATEFUL DEAD groupie, back in the day...
MOLLOY: What led you into the famous lifestyle of being a Grateful Dead groupie?
NEWCOMB: When I was twelve, my mother moved into an old Victorian in San Rafael that had once been the offices of the Grateful Dead in the late 1970's. The kitchen had been decorated beautifully with intricate and colorful inlaid tile design. I had started, even at this young age to enjoy the Grateful Dead vibe. Every morning I would get up, look around at that intricate kitchen and hope, one day, to be able to see the Dead, live. I was an innocent ivory white skinned girl with strawberry blonde hair who liked to dance barefoot...
MOLLOY: When did you join in a caravan?
NEWCOMB: I got my chance at 19 years old. I was invited to join a caravan when partying on a yacht in Sausalito. I had come to Laguna Beach from San Rafael with a group of friends and fans who caravanned together. I joined the other in my van. There were maybe 25 of us pulling together to the show. We had vendor permits and spent most of the day selling pipes, costume jewelry and small trinkets with a Grateful Dead theme. Others in the caravan sold clothing, camping tools, blankets and musical instruments.
MOLLOY: Where were you headed?
NEWCOMB: We drove up in a line onto the old dried up lake bed. Laguna Seca (built in 1957) was about showing that even in the face of possible arrest, we were a people, a system, that we could come together and support each other without the need for police. All 25 of us pulling in together and setting up our tables next to each other. It was a hot day, people would walk around the raceway checking out the tables and stirring up the dust. I had never been to a Dead show before. I had never seen such a large group of people in person...There was an estimated 16-20 thousand people who joined together for the show.
MOLLOY: Was this around the time of the Irvine show?
NEWCOMB: The memory of the infamous show at Irvine, where 75 people had been arrested, was fresh in people's minds, having only happened months before. The hard core travelers would tell stories of following the Dead. There was constant music playing from people strumming guitars and beating drums. I would learn about playing drums and guitar. I would stand out in front of the table and dance around to the musicians playing music in an attempt to attract interest to the table. I knew the caravan people I had come with watched over each other and many an eye was watchful over me.
MOLLOY: You mention the "vibe", can you illuminate that for me?
NEWCOMB: I enjoyed the "vibe", hanging with people who followed the policy of self-reliance. I myself, owned my own van and didn't allow anyone to stay with me. I help sell other people's pipes but I myself didn't have a product to sell. I was there to enjoy the "vibe".
MOLLOY: It was a unique time in our social fabric as I recall...
NEWCOMB: For me, it was a time of independence. A moment of freedom and self-
reliance. I felt safe around the caravan folks. I was not trusting of the other thousands of people around me. I remember Laguna Seca as a real marker for my freedom. I danced, learned to play the guitar, inspired others with my beauty and wrote poems about my experiences.
MOLLOY: I feel a rude awakening approaching soon, correct me if I am wrong.
NEWCOMB: A year after attending my first Grateful Dead show at Laguna Seca I followed the Dead to Berkeley on their "Downhill From Here Tour" at the Hearst Greek Theatre. The Dead had played the Greek from October 1, 1967 until August 19, 1989.
After a year of following the Dead across California I found myself in a well know flop house on San Pablo in Berkeley. The host was a Vietnam Vet named "Trans" who had been writing a book about the alternative culture of our times.
I walked to the Greek Theatre with Trans from the flop house. He introduced me to a large group of carnies, vendors, Dead Heads and others milling about selling trinkets and playing music as we waited for the show to start. Unlike Laguna Seca, which was a big, flat raceway, the Greek Theatre was an amphitheater and each ticket had an assigned seat. The music was amazing with echoing acoustics. Trans was showing me around and we met several people who had set up camp for the night at "People's Park" just down the road.
After the show, I realized the BART was no longer running and I would need to stay over the night. I had lost sight of Trans. I followed some new friends to People's Park for an overnight sleep. When we got there the police had hosed down everyone's tents and bedding. People began gathering, banging on drums, bells and voices rang out as the crowd began marching down Telegraph yelling and banging on things. Everyone was furious with the police for ruining their bedding. We marched to the foot of Telegraph, reached the University, then swung around and marched back down towards the park.
The police had set up on the campus, as we approached they used a megaphone to tell the crowd to breakup and go home. Many folks stood milling about as the police began preparing to chase people back down the street. It started with tear gas then the police with batons and shields started marching towards us. People began to rush down the street, pushing and shoving and trampling on each other.
We couldn't get back to the park, with everyone's things all wet and the presence of police there. It was late, no buses, BART, no real way to get home...I was left out in the cold for the night. Someone said there was a place to sleep out at the Universal Lutheran Chapel. I went up to the church following the group but once I got there I had no one around that I knew.
There was this large oak tree that I felt driven to check out. I climbed up the tree and watched people filing by. At some point, a fellow came by and said, "Hey, are you OK? Come on down and get some rest..." I had felt so alone, it was a real welcome to hear a friendly voice even if it was from a total stranger. He gave me a blanket, and I slept under the church awning with just the stars and the chill to comfort me.
After this protest, the Grateful Dead never again played the Greek Theatre. The people were depicted as rabble rousers in the press. Those of us who were there knew it had all been orchestrated by the police. In the end, that didn't matter, the Grateful Dead was banned from playing Berkeley, the place they had been playing since 1967.
The next day I went home across the bay. The Grateful Dead show would never be the same for me.
I was choking on tear gas, chased by police, and left alone to fend for myself in a group of total strangers. Lucky for me, one person cared enough to give me a blanket for the night. The independence I enjoyed at Laguna Seca became a real sense of worry and fear for my safety at the Greek. It was the first time I had been chased by the police, but it wouldn't be the last.
MOLLOY: Thank you for your candor and willingness to tell your story.
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