*Jakarta Globe, 18 November 2009

I never met Emmanuel Lemor. But he did let me sleep in the living room of his San Francisco flat where, for a week, I shared a blow-up mattress with a French couple.

By the time I arrived in San Francisco, Emmanuel was in North Carolina dealing with a family matter. “I shall leave the key under the mat,” he had written in an e-mail.

In all my years as a couchsurfer (www.couchsurfing.org), many generous individuals have allowed me into their homes, providing me with a place to sleep during my stay in their countries. But I’ve never met a host who left his home completely open to total strangers. Emmanuel’s trust in his fellow travelers was definitely unique.

Such were the eclectic breed of individuals I encountered during my short sojourn in the Bay Area, famous for its fogs, tremors and the rock ’n’ roll culture of The Haight.

Most people who reside in cities, where danger lurks in the urban shadows and alleyways, are either untrustworthy or suspicious. The residents of Fog City appear to believe in the good in others, exuding benevolence and altruism. Residue from the hippie era, perhaps? San Francisco is the only major city where I’ve come across commuters thanking their bus drivers when they alight. The residents have a small-town friendliness about them, a jarringly refreshing trait to find within a metropolis.

On my first day, I decided to hit Golden Gate Park. As it was a Sunday, it was full of lively events held in every open space. Closest to the famous Haight-Ashbury intersection was Sharon Meadows, where Pet Pride Day 2009 was being held. The grassy arena was filled with dogs in every costume imaginable. Siberian Huskies, Akitas, black Labradors and greyhounds were groomed to the hilt. They sported everything from sequined red devil horns, green butterfly wings and black witches’ hats. After being licked by a tan mutt with hazel eyes called Chocolate, I sat next to a girl from Cooper’s Dream Animal Rescue. She was foster mum to a shy pug-Chihuahua mix named Lou. Cooper’s Dream had saved him from certain death a few weeks prior. He was scheduled for euthanasia when they pulled him out of a local animal shelter. No one had wanted to adopt him as he was no longer a pup, the girl told me. Sadly, I’ve heard similar statements made by orphanages about their older charges.

Only a few miles further was West Fest, a free concert celebrating the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. The festival was a music-satiated spread of peace-loving, tie-dyed T-shirt-wearing, marijuana-puffing individuals who had transformed Speedway Meadow into a small city of flower-power hippies. At both ends of the meadow were massive stages with musicians crooning out songs from 1967’s infamous Summer of Love. On a hillside overlooking the hubbub, Asians and Hispanics manned food stalls, selling a smorgasbord of snacks and ethnic dishes.

In the midst of the rambling crowd moving from one concert to another, past tents selling recyclable goodies and flowing hemp dresses, sampling organic chocolates and signing “Free Marijuana” petitions, sat an Indian woman. She was nude. Her hair flowed like gushing mud behind her and matched the color of her leathery skin. The white man she was facing was fully clothed, decked out in Hawaiian prints.

The next day, I went on a last-minute date. While exchanging my euros for dollars and dollars for Mexican pesos in the financial district, I started chatting with the man behind the counter. Kartlos is from Georgia — the country not the state. Intrigued by all things journalistic, he invited me for coffee in the Mission district.

Like most of the people I’ve met in America, Kartlos is an immigrant. Now in his late 20s, he arrived in New York when he was 19, with $400 to his name and no English. Yet when he spoke of his favorite tuna cheese melts and showed me his apartment on his iPhone, his voice bore hardly a trace of a foreign accent.

The fact that Kartlos spoke highly of Georgia, the extensive culinary fare and his desire to return there, intrigued me. Back home, I met numerous overseas graduates who dismissed Indonesia as a third-world country and longed to remain in the progressive West. Kartlos, on the other hand, resisted his assimilation into the American culture and expressed concern over Georgia’s brain drain.

“I don’t want this country to be my ‘home.’ I want my own country to be my home,” he said. Ironically, he was waiting to obtain his US citizenship before he returns home.

Later that night, two French girls breezed in through the door — new couchsurfers hailing from the Lorraine region. They filled the small flat with their colorful language and raucous laughter. As the living room was occupied, we had to break into Emmanuel’s locked bedroom.

Not much to say here except that we had a good time in GG Park last Sunday.  Music on multiple stages; lots of back to the ’60s vibes; very relaxed with lot of peace, love and understanding; the smell of dope in the air.  The pictures tell the story.

“Joni Mitchell’s voice and guitar wafted through the speakers as the plane landed in San Francisco…”

The young Joni Mitchell

How’s that for the opening sentence to a pulp thriller? At any rate, it was a nice way to arrive in California.

The mood turned Hitchcockian when I was unable to find the driver who had been sent to collect me by my host Dr SuHua Newton. Eventually we found each other—he had even walked right past me while I was sat outside in the sun reading David Frith’s Bodyline Autopsy, one of the best cricket books ever.

Of course, the drive into (or rather past) the city was for me thrilling, especially over the Golden Gate Bridge. I had been told that I would be staying at Dr Newton’s “hotel” in Mill Valley, a prosperous suburb just north of SF. I thought I was staying in her house, so I was bemused to learn that I would be parked in a hotel and one that wasn’t even in the city. When I arrived, all was revealed. The “hotel” turned out to be a splendid house that Dr Newton uses as her office. It was Friday so I would have it all to myself for the weekend.

We went for dinner that evening at a the Tong Kiang restaurant and drank a half-bottle of 2001 Newton Vineyards Merlot, which was mature, balanced and supple though rather short.

Mill Valley, looking towards San Francisco

On Saturday morning I woke up and gazed from the patio across Richardson Bay to the city, which was shrouded in thick fog. It was cool too, “a nipping and an eager air.” The climate of San Francisco and the Bay Area is extraordinarily capricious.

I caught a ferry from Sausolito to the city. Taking a punt on the sunshine that had emerged earlier that morning, I was in shorts and sandals. I froze as the ferry alternately bobbed across the water through thick fog or bright sunshine.

Dr Newton told me off for leaning out of her car window while she was showing me round the city. (She is a very impatient driver). Apparently some kid had his arms or legs sheared off by a passing car when leaning out of the window so a law banning such things was passed hastily. San Francisco’s weather is capricious but so is its legislation. In the city of Haight-Ashbury, the Beat Generation, hippies and the Summer of Love you cannot even lean out of a car window without breaking the law. This famously liberal city is bound up by legislation tighter than the bark on a Giant Sequoia.

It has a dark and disturbing underbelly, too. There is a magnificent and sombre film made in 2004 by Eric Steel that explores why so many people end their lives at the Golden Gate Bridge. The images captured by Steel of people leaping from the bridge into the icy water are shocking and linger in the viewer’s memory like a bad dream.

Pacific Heights, San Francisco

On a more cheerful note, Dr Newton lives in a Pacific Heights house with magnificent views across the city and harbour. We sat in her lounge eating, drinking, talking and watching the occasional container ship go past Alcatraz as it headed out to sea. The ships were rarely fully-loaded, their plimsoll lines usually visible. The shipping industry has been hit hard by the “crisis”. I visited some friends in Hamburg recently and they told me that for a couple of days last autumn the usually thriving shipyards there were eerily still. If local residents were spooked just imagine what it would be like if you worked in that industry.

On Saturday evening we went to a Thai restaurant called Yukol and drank 1982 Newton Vineyards Merlot. The nose was cedary and good but the palate was drying out and left acidity rather than fruit on the finish. Nonetheless, it was a rare treat.

A taxi was ordered at closing time to get me back to Mill Valley. Dr Newton was due on a nightshift in her role as a paediatrician. She is an extraordinary lady—a winemaker and doctor of medicine, with qualifications in every subject imaginable. She also paints well, speaks several languages and used to be a model. What a woman she is! I hope that somebody captures her remarkable life in words before it is too late.

In London, taxi drivers always know where they’re going. If they don’t, they consult a map or SatNav. I assumed my man would know where to go. He didn’t. Nor did I. It was late, it was dark, I had barely seen any of Mill Valley and I was tired. So we drove for at least an hour around Mill Valley to find the “hotel.” He had the courtesy to switch off the fare machine but I had been advised $40 would cover the trip from SF to Mill Valley. So that is what I offered him.

“You’re kidding?”

No, I wasn’t. This led to an earful of abuse. I pointed out to him that UK cabbies usually have a map handy. Why didn’t he?

He wanted to know why I didn’t know the way.

“Are you slow or somethin’?’”

Something, since you ask. And I’m too tired to argue and want to go to bed. More abuse. He sped off before I could note his registration plate. But, like Jerry Garcia, I believe in Karma.

"Captain Trips"—Jerry Garcia

Sunday was spent in a very warm Napa, the temperature hitting nearly 90 degrees that day. Dr Newton showed me her Carneros Vineyard, which supplies grapes for the Unfiltered Chardonnay. Lara Abbott, Domaine Chandon’s and Newton’s Australian-born but US-raised PR, joined us here. She took my digs over The Ashes in good humour. I had been reading about Bodyline, after all.

The Razi vineyard was also visited. The owner had a charming ticking-off (sic) from Dr Newton over various things, irrigation and burned grapes and so on. She explained to me afterwards how she turns on the charm to get the best out of people. A good lesson for life!

I joined a tour group at Newton Vineyards to have a look around the estate. It’s a long way up—the pine tree that is shown on the bottle labels is at 1,700 feet above sea level. Some of the vineyards surrounding Newton’s winery are at a 60-degree slope—nowadays, new plantings are only permitted at up to 30.

Lunch was at the Auberge du Soleil restaurant up in the hills at Rutherford. SuHua and Lara cooed at Colin, the boyish-looking and charming sommelier. It was very good, especially the cookies made to order for Dr Newton. Being a generous soul, she let me and Lara try them.

The afternoon was spent with John Caldwell at his estate in Coombsville. I had arranged to meet John after having had to request images from him for a brilliant Jonathan Swinchatt article that I edited in my previous dayjob.

John and Joy Caldwell

John used to sell his grapes to Pahlmeyer Winery and others but began bottling his own wines with the 1998 vintage, though production has remained tiny at less than 1,000 cases per year.

The red wines are big and fleshy, especially the Proprietary Red. Caldwell Vineyards’ winemaker is Marbue Marke—from Sierra Leone! But he hasn’t yet made a blend called “Palm-wine music.”

The Caldwell bottles with the “C” logo mould cost $3.50 each, John told me. Money is tight but “I love it too much to sell.” He and his wife Joy have a young family. He’s one of the good guys and deserves his successes.

Three days is hardly enough to see California but I was due back in New York on Monday night.

At JFK airport I was refreshing myself with a beer when a car ad appeared on the bar’s TV screen. It was subtitled “Do not attempt yourself. Professional driver on an enclosed track.”

Next stop Brazil.

The Love Bus

We were at the Woodstock 40th anniversary “West Fest” in GG park and saw for the second time some fancy Love Buses.  They were full of nice folks and were wonderfully built buses.

Modified Greyhound?

We HAD to look inside.

It was incredible woodwork, well maintained. Very creative and well thought out. I could do a road trip in this!

So I came home and read their literature and checked their website and it turns out they are folks disenchanted with the lack of follow thru on the promise of the ’60s and turned to religion.  And are accused by some of being a cult.

Their site. One critic.

Somehow that led me to another cult story – an old one.  Now their real estate is for sale.  And any kind of a search will lead to many more alleged cults.  I had a very interesting email discussion a couple years ago with one of the guys in the New Mexico group that had their kids confiscated by the sheriff for a few months before a court order had them released.  The conversation was cut off when the leader was accused of child molestation and their web site and emails dried up.  Too bad…

More about West Fest in the next post.

Gisteren wist ik het opeens zeker: de weg voorwaarts gaat via stilstand naar het verleden. We reizen terug in de tijd. Mijn buren willen een moestuintje aanleggen en de bakker bakt weer zijn eigen brood. En niemand gelooft  meer dat vrijheid van meningsuiting betekent dat je alles eruit moet flappen wat in je hoofd opkomt. Het zijn net de jaren 1970.

Blijkbaar ben ik niet de enige ben, die genoeg heeft van het gemekker en geklaag. Rondom zie ik mooie mensen, ik zie dat Nederland zich opmaakt voor de mooiste herfst aller tijden, en vooral zie ik dat sex en liefde elkaar niet langer uitsluiten. Kortom, het gaat goed!

Het lijkt misschien wel alsof we in een wilde, onvoorspelbare tijd leven, maar de tijd loopt in cirkels. Je zult zien, binnenkort is het 1967 en barst de zomer der liefde los. Ik kan niet wachten.

La giovinezza è un’invenzione recente, probabilmente già consumata. Schiacciata tra l’eterna adolescenza che arriva ai 40 anni e l’età adulta, che attraversa l’intera vita, come una condanna, anche quando si è bambini. Sarà per questo che, ai nostri occhi, diventa sempre più necessario guardare alle nostre spalle, al momento più esaltante del XX secolo. Quello in cui la giovinezza ha cercato di prendere il potere. Dopo essere nata, alla fine della seconda guerra mondiale, tra i teen agers americani e inglesi appassionati di blues e jazz, tra i principianti assoluti raccontati da Colin MacInness, la giovinezza è fiorita durante i sixties. In tutto l’occidente, ma soprattutto negli Stati Uniti. Dove la stagione del pacifismo, del libero amore, della psichedelia, matura nel corso del decennio. E sboccia il 14 gennaio del 1967, durante l’happening al Golden Gate Park di San Francisco. È lo ’Human be in’, una lunga giornata che raduna ragazzi desiderosi di ascoltare le band della west coast (i Jefferson Airplane, i Grateful Dead, i Quicksilver) e le parole del poeta beatnik Allen Ginsberg. Inizia quella che diventerà la Summer of love di Haight-Ashbury, il quartiere di Frisco in cui, in pochi mesi, approdarono oltre centomila persone. E che culmina a giugno con il festival di Monterey. In cui suonano i gruppi della baia, assieme a Jimi Hendix, Otis Redding, Janis Joplin, gli Who. La musica è la bandiera della ribellione dei ventenni che si rivoltano contro i genitori, la loro vita conformista e contro la guerra in Vietnam. Dentro all’onda hippy c’è di tutto. Ci sono le comuni e c’è la ’Family’ di Charles Manson, gli studenti di Berkeley, gli appassionati di Lsd. Solo una cosa unisce tutti: sono giovani. Il momento d’oro è destinato a tramontare presto. Nel 1969 c’è già l’odore della fine. Che forse ha anche una data, quella del 6 dicembre. La sera del concerto dei Rolling Stones ad Altamont, in California. Quando ci scappò il morto accoltellato e non si replicò così la tre giorni d’amore e musica di quattro mesi prima, chiamata Woodstock.

L’ultimo film di Ang Lee, Motel Woodstock (dall’omonima autobiografia del protagonista, Elliot Tiber) racconta l’omonimo festival, il canto del cigno, il momento prima del tramonto. Lo fa concentrandosi sulla storia di un ragazzo. Come i cowboy de I segreti di Brokeback Mountain, come la spia di Lussuria (due Leoni d’Oro, ravvicinati e meritati) anche Elliot (Demetri Martin) è un giovane in bilico tra dovere e desiderio. Ma a differenza dei due precedenti film del regista, la tragedia questa volta resta fuori dallo schermo e il conflitto si risolve positivamente. Ma la malinconia serpeggia. Elliot vive a El Monaco, stato di New York, aiutando i burberi genitori nella gestione di un fatiscente motel. Ma dipinge, è pieno di aspirazioni e vorrebbe fuggire. Eppure resta lì, responsabile e inquieto, cercando di non soffocare organizzando piccoli eventi con la camera di commercio locale. Un giorno, il giovanotto dalle antenne sempre dritte scopre che la vicina località di Wallkill ha rifiutato di ospitare un festival musicale di tre giorni. Mettendo una croce sopra a un palco dove sarebbero saliti Hendix, Joplin, Who, The Band, Santana e tanti altri. Elliot non se lo fa ripetere due volte e contatta immediatamente il manager della Woodstock Ventures, Michael Lang (Jonathan Groff), proponendosi come alternativa: organizzerà la logistica dell’evento. Inconsapevolmente, Elliot mette un piede nella leggenda. E la sua vita, come quella dei suoi genitori, cambierà assieme alla storia del costume e della cultura del mondo intero.

All’ultimo festival di Cannes, Motel Woodstock è stato poco considerato. La commedia di formazione non è certo un genere nuovo. E questa ballata folk, lieve e leggiadra, appare lontana dai temi di Ang Lee e dalla tonalità degli ultimi, splendidi film. Ma i punti in comune ci sono. Il film è una vacanza stilistica dal dramma, ma nella sua leggerezza si trovano motivi profondi e commoventi. Anche in Motel Woodstock, Ang Lee parla dell’impossibilità di trattenere la perfezione del momento, di costruire la propria vita sull’epifania della bellezza. Il film – in cui il concerto resta sempre rigorosamente fuori campo – termina con il presagio della perdita. Quella dell’innocenza e dei grandi sogni. La fidanzata del manager Michael Lang, che per tutto il film sembra una scoppiata, dice le parole più sagge: “la prospettiva è ciò che esclude l’universo, cioè l’amore”. La prospettiva è una linearità che spinge i protagonisti all’azione. Mentre l’universo, cioè l’amore, è legato alla contemplazione e all’attimo. I personaggi del film hanno partecipato a un momento che, ancora oggi, è eternato nella memoria collettiva, al concerto più mitizzato della storia. Eppure, reiterare la perfezione non è una possibilità reale. Questo è il tema onnipresente dell’ultimo Ang Lee: ne I segreti di Brokeback Mountain l’istante in cui sbocciava l’amore tra i protagonisti veniva replicato durante gli anni, il più possibile identico a se stesso, in una ripetizione progressivamente mortuaria. In Lussuria la passione erotica viene messa in scena sempre più arditamente, e avrebbe portato al matrimonio se non fosse intervenuta la parte più inscalfibile della realtà: l’esistenza del potere. In Motel Woodstock il regista si ferma un passo prima. La speranza c’è ancora, il concerto che ha unito migliaia di persone in un unico grande corpo è appena finito. Certo, resta un paesaggio di devastazione e sporcizia. Certo, il richiamo al concerto di Altamont degli Stones, citato dal manager Lang, per gli appassionati di musica trasuda tristezza (a proposito, vale la pena recupare il bellissimo documentario sull’evento, Gimme Shelter di Albert e David Maysles). Ma quando salutiamo Elliot, lo lasciamo nel pieno della libertà. Non ha più paura, ha affermato la propria omosessualità, ha trovato se stesso. Lo lasciamo ricco di aspettative, energia. Ma certamente, anche per lui, quella scoperta così vergine e innocente non tornerà mai più.

La giovinezza, come luogo psichico permanente, e non solo come momento anagrafico della vita, è uno dei temi che unisce Motel Woodstock ai due Leoni d’oro. Solo – e non è poco – qui Ang Lee ha voglia di raccontare la speranza, ancora palpitante, un attimo prima che si corrompa. Per questo il film è stilisticamente gustoso e scanzonato. La freschezza che trasuda dalla macchina da presa coinvolge ed appassiona. La voglia di libertà del regista è massima. Lo si vede nella scena del primo acido di Elliot (sottolineata da quel capolavoro che è The red telephone dei Love, che a Woodstock non c’erano), in cui i colori diventano sparati e le forme sempre più piene. E lo si vede fin dall’inizio, quando Lee cita apertamente il documentario Woodstock (1970) con l’uso continuo dello schermo diviso in due. Divertente è anche l’opposizione tra le tante macchiette freak e la concretezza della vita, raccontata costantemente nel film. Dove burocrazia e soldi sono temi insistenti. Tenuti battuti proprio per insinuare il dubbio che solo la leggenda epuri la realtà dalle sue verità. E per ricordare che solo nella perfezione del momento si trova il senso della grigia macchinosità che serpeggia nelle esistenze di tutti.

La musica, anche se fuori scena, è protagonista obbligata. Ed è un piacere. Perchè sentire Volunteers dei Jefferson Airplaine sui titoli di coda scalda il cuore. Del resto era inevitabile, prima o poi, fare un film su Woodstock come questo. Perchè se una cosa resta davvero di quegli anni americani è il connubio tra musica, giovinezza e ricerca di libertà. A cui guardiamo talvolta con distacco. Molto spesso con un po’ di invidia.

pubblicato su  il Fatto Quotidiano, 8 ottobre 2009

Motel Woodstock (Taking Woodstock), di Ang Lee, USA, 2009, 121 minuti

Cast: Demetri Martin, Dan Fogler, Henry Goodman, Jonathan Groff, Eugene Levy, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Imelda Staunton, Paul Dano, Kelli Garner, Mamie Gummer, Emile Hirsch, Liev Schreiber

Distribuzione: Bim

Uscita: venerdì 9 ottobre 2009

*WATCH THE VIDEO HERE:

http://ia341231.us.archive.org/0/items/JonHammondDanHicksdirectingBootsHughstonTrafficatSUMMEROFLOVE40thAnniversary/DanHicksdirectsBootsTrafficat40th.m4v

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sLukBMfReE

Jon Hammond on the scene backstage at SUMMER OF LOVE 40th Anniversary. Watch Dan Hicks (of Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks) doing a fine job of directing Event Producer Boots Hughston’s twin brother Lance parking his van next to tour bus stageside. ©2009 www.HammondCast.com on KYOU & KYCY 1550 AM daily 4AM.
Here are the acts who appeared:
Country Joe McDonald, Moby Grape reunion, Taj Mahal, Lester and Willie Chambers (from Chambers Brothers), Canned Heat, Lydia Pense and Cold Blood, New Riders of the Purple Sage, Jerry Miller Band from Moby Grape featuring Tiran Porter and Dale Ockerman from the Doobie Brothers and Fuzzy John Oxendine from the Sons of Champlin, Banana from the Youngbloods, Michael McClure and Ray Manzarek from the Doors, San Francisco’s First Family of Rock, Brian Auger, David Laflamme, Dickie Peterson of Blue Cheer, Chris and Lorin of the Rowan Brothers, The Alameda All Stars from Gregg Allman band, Brad Jenkins, Terry Haggerty from the Sons of Champlin, Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks, George Michalski – Pete Sears “Dueling Keys,” Freddie Roulette , Ron Thompson , The Charlatans, Leigh Stephens Blue Cheer, Gregg Douglas from Steve Miller, Pete Sears Jefferson Starship, Essra Mohawk from Mothers of Invention, Barry “The Fish” Melton, All Night Flight featuring David Denny and Steve McCarty (from Steve Miller), Jack King from Cold Blood Merl Saunders supporting the event, Hair reunion Original Cast, Squid B. Vicious with Buddy Miles, Jim Post Friend and Lover, Siegel Schwall Blues Band, Charles Lewis – Harmonica, David Harris, Fayette Hauser and the Cocketts, Cindy Sheehan political activist, Jack Hirschman Poet Laureate of San Francisco, Scoop Nisker, Ben Vareen, Terence Hallinan former SF DA Ruth Weiss Beat Poet, Richard Eastman marijuana initiative, Lenore Kandel Beat Poet, Paul “Lobster” Wells, Khenchen Rinpoche Buddhist Monk, Dr Hip Eugene Schoenfeld, Artie Kornfeild Producer of Woodstock, Wavy Gravy, Mouse man Bagpipes, David E. Smith Haight Ashbury Medical Clinic, Bruce Latimer Bruce Latimer show, Rabbi Joseph Langer, Bruce Barthol (Mime Troupe, Stephen Gaskin, Doug Green, Howard Hesseman, Benjamin Hernandez Harts hands and Elders, American Indigenous people’s, Agnes Pilgrim and 13 Grandmas, Lakota War Ponys, Merle Tendoy 6th generation of Sacagawea Shonie, Albert Tenaya, Harry Riverbottom Chippewa, Chief Sunne Reyna, Iroquois Tribe, Dakota Tribe, Seminole Tribe, and Emit Powell and the Gospel Elites. *more or less accurate..can not completely verify jh
©
ASCAP Network Behind The Beat with Jon Hammond “LATE RENT”

Elmar Lemes photo of Jon Hammond playing XK-3 organ at Local 802 Monday Night Jazz Session sponsored by Jazz Foundation of America

Jon Hammond MySpace

HammondCast

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat “NDR SESSIONS Projekt”

Jon Hammond is an endorsed artist of Hammond Suzuki USA

Boots Hughston, Chet Helms, Dan Hicks, Golden Gate Park, HammondCast KYOU KYCY Radio, Jon Hammond, Learjet, Quicksilver, Rolls Royce, Summer Of Love, Tour Bus, XK-3c, B3, Organ
Related articles by Zemanta

• HammondCast Summer of Love 40 special guest Boots Hughston KYOU Radio Jon Hammond hosting (lockergnome.com)
• Boots Hughston organizer of Summer of Love 40 and West Fest Woodstock 40th on HammondCast KYOU Radio (lockergnome.com)
• John Nady of Nady Systems on Hammond Cast KYOU Radio Jon Hammond Host (lockergnome.com)

*WATCH THE VIDEO HERE:

http://ia341231.us.archive.org/0/items/JonHammondDanHicksdirectingBootsHughstonTrafficatSUMMEROFLOVE40thAnniversary/DanHicksdirectsBootsTrafficat40th.m4v

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sLukBMfReE

Jon Hammond on the scene backstage at SUMMER OF LOVE 40th Anniversary. Watch Dan Hicks (of Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks) doing a fine job of directing Event Producer Boots Hughston’s twin brother Lance parking his van next to tour bus stageside. ©2009 www.HammondCast.com on KYOU & KYCY 1550 AM daily 4AM.
Here are the acts who appeared:
Country Joe McDonald, Moby Grape reunion, Taj Mahal, Lester and Willie Chambers (from Chambers Brothers), Canned Heat, Lydia Pense and Cold Blood, New Riders of the Purple Sage, Jerry Miller Band from Moby Grape featuring Tiran Porter and Dale Ockerman from the Doobie Brothers and Fuzzy John Oxendine from the Sons of Champlin, Banana from the Youngbloods, Michael McClure and Ray Manzarek from the Doors, San Francisco’s First Family of Rock, Brian Auger, David Laflamme, Dickie Peterson of Blue Cheer, Chris and Lorin of the Rowan Brothers, The Alameda All Stars from Gregg Allman band, Brad Jenkins, Terry Haggerty from the Sons of Champlin, Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks, George Michalski – Pete Sears “Dueling Keys,” Freddie Roulette , Ron Thompson , The Charlatans, Leigh Stephens Blue Cheer, Gregg Douglas from Steve Miller, Pete Sears Jefferson Starship, Essra Mohawk from Mothers of Invention, Barry “The Fish” Melton, All Night Flight featuring David Denny and Steve McCarty (from Steve Miller), Jack King from Cold Blood Merl Saunders supporting the event, Hair reunion Original Cast, Squid B. Vicious with Buddy Miles, Jim Post Friend and Lover, Siegel Schwall Blues Band, Charles Lewis – Harmonica, David Harris, Fayette Hauser and the Cocketts, Cindy Sheehan political activist, Jack Hirschman Poet Laureate of San Francisco, Scoop Nisker, Ben Vareen, Terence Hallinan former SF DA Ruth Weiss Beat Poet, Richard Eastman marijuana initiative, Lenore Kandel Beat Poet, Paul “Lobster” Wells, Khenchen Rinpoche Buddhist Monk, Dr Hip Eugene Schoenfeld, Artie Kornfeild Producer of Woodstock, Wavy Gravy, Mouse man Bagpipes, David E. Smith Haight Ashbury Medical Clinic, Bruce Latimer Bruce Latimer show, Rabbi Joseph Langer, Bruce Barthol (Mime Troupe, Stephen Gaskin, Doug Green, Howard Hesseman, Benjamin Hernandez Harts hands and Elders, American Indigenous people’s, Agnes Pilgrim and 13 Grandmas, Lakota War Ponys, Merle Tendoy 6th generation of Sacagawea Shonie, Albert Tenaya, Harry Riverbottom Chippewa, Chief Sunne Reyna, Iroquois Tribe, Dakota Tribe, Seminole Tribe, and Emit Powell and the Gospel Elites. *more or less accurate..can not completely verify jh
©
ASCAP Network Behind The Beat with Jon Hammond “LATE RENT”

Elmar Lemes photo of Jon Hammond playing XK-3 organ at Local 802 Monday Night Jazz Session sponsored by Jazz Foundation of America

Jon Hammond MySpace

HammondCast

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat “NDR SESSIONS Projekt”

Jon Hammond is an endorsed artist of Hammond Suzuki USA

Boots Hughston, Chet Helms, Dan Hicks, Golden Gate Park, HammondCast KYOU KYCY Radio, Jon Hammond, Learjet, Quicksilver, Rolls Royce, Summer Of Love, Tour Bus, XK-3c, B3, Organ
Related articles by Zemanta

• HammondCast Summer of Love 40 special guest Boots Hughston KYOU Radio Jon Hammond hosting (lockergnome.com)
• Boots Hughston organizer of Summer of Love 40 and West Fest Woodstock 40th on HammondCast KYOU Radio (lockergnome.com)
• John Nady of Nady Systems on Hammond Cast KYOU Radio Jon Hammond Host (lockergnome.com)

Every day at least for the next few days, our top 666 songs of alltime countdown gets one step closer to #1. Tuesday’s song is #309:

The Rolling Stones – Citadel

Where Sgt. Pepper was a quintessentially British, somewhat satirical slap at conformity, the Stones’ rejoinder, Their Satanic Majesties Request was unabashedly savage. In this frequently covered riff-rock masterpiece, Jagger has been taken prisoner by the enemy. Candy and Cathy, wherever you are, if you ever existed at all, this one’s for you. The link above is an intriguing alternate take in a slightly more folk-rock vein.

*WATCH AND LISTEN TO THE VIDEO HERE:

http://ia360616.us.archive.org/3/items/JonHammondBootsHughstonInterviewonHammondCastKYOURadio/HammondCast129offairBootsIntvw.mp4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzxbtNsPovo

Boots Hughston interview with Jon Hammond on KYOU Radio HammondCast (excerpt). Boots is former partner of Chet Helms Family Dog Productions and organizer producer of Summer Of Love 40 Year Anniversary in Golden Gate Park and organizer of The West Fest Woodstock 40th Anniversary Golden Gate Park.
Recorded from the broadcast by Mr. Hammond personally on his famous SONY CFS-D7 Boom Box.
© www.HammondCast.com
Jazz Foundation of America, Elmar Lemes, ASCAP Network, B3 organ, XK-3c, Blues, Funky, Rhonda Hamilton, WBGO

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat with Jon Hammond “LATE RENT”

Elmar Lemes photo of Jon Hammond playing XK-3 organ at Local 802 Monday Night Jazz Session sponsored by Jazz Foundation of America

Jon Hammond MySpace

HammondCast

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat “NDR SESSIONS Projekt”

Jon Hammond is an endorsed artist of Hammond Suzuki USA

Jon Hammond’s friend The Honorable Terence Hallinan, former San Francisco District Attorney who has helped overcome some of the legal obsticles of the Summer of Love 40th Anniversary and The West Fest Woodstock 40th Anniversary Golden Gate Park. A true Bay Area treasure and hero:

Boots Hughston, Chet Helms, Family Dog, Golden Gate Park, Grateful Dead, HammondCast, James Brown, Jon Hammond, KYOU Radio, Summer Of Love, XK-3c, The West Fest Woodstock 40th Anniversary Golden Gate Park

*WATCH AND LISTEN TO THE VIDEO HERE:

http://ia360616.us.archive.org/3/items/JonHammondBootsHughstonInterviewonHammondCastKYOURadio/HammondCast129offairBootsIntvw.mp4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzxbtNsPovo

Boots Hughston interview with Jon Hammond on KYOU Radio HammondCast (excerpt). Boots is former partner of Chet Helms Family Dog Productions and organizer producer of Summer Of Love 40 Year Anniversary in Golden Gate Park and organizer of The West Fest Woodstock 40th Anniversary Golden Gate Park.
Recorded from the broadcast by Mr. Hammond personally on his famous SONY CFS-D7 Boom Box.
© www.HammondCast.com
Jazz Foundation of America, Elmar Lemes, ASCAP Network, B3 organ, XK-3c, Blues, Funky, Rhonda Hamilton, WBGO

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat with Jon Hammond “LATE RENT”

Elmar Lemes photo of Jon Hammond playing XK-3 organ at Local 802 Monday Night Jazz Session sponsored by Jazz Foundation of America

Jon Hammond MySpace

HammondCast

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat “NDR SESSIONS Projekt”

Jon Hammond is an endorsed artist of Hammond Suzuki USA

Jon Hammond’s friend The Honorable Terence Hallinan, former San Francisco District Attorney who has helped overcome some of the legal obsticles of the Summer of Love 40th Anniversary and The West Fest Woodstock 40th Anniversary Golden Gate Park. A true Bay Area treasure and hero:

Boots Hughston, Chet Helms, Family Dog, Golden Gate Park, Grateful Dead, HammondCast, James Brown, Jon Hammond, KYOU Radio, Summer Of Love, XK-3c, The West Fest Woodstock 40th Anniversary Golden Gate Park

It’s been ages since my last post. It’s been ages since I’ve actually studied. It’s been freakin ages since I drank that whiskey with a reindeer logo. Anyway, as the chill weather approaches, I’m back recounting my experience of summer in this great mid atlantic area of Northern Virginia (NOVA).

It started with my sad grades coming out. A terrible grade on my Data Mining didn’t really bother me and with nice warm weather setting in, who could care less. The first long weekend of the summer, I decided to travel to upstate New York. That set the trend to travel somewhere new every weekend over the summer. Canada, upstate NY, NJ, MD, Philly and NYC were some of the places I visited.

No post of mine is without my boozing. Killed it over the summer on some really fine alcohol. Glen Fiddich, Johnnie Walker Black Label, Crown Royal, Chivas and Jameson from many that I tried out. Jameson is freakin killer and I’d wholly recommend that over blended scotch.

Made several new dishes over the summer that included Italian, Jamaican chicken curries, beef and other meats. All this just makes me confident that I can do something way better than coding or computer related stuff.

As for computer related stuff, got a good project completed, ended up with some killer financial assistance and have a year to go to find an awesome job where I don’t have to give a crap about client specifications. Being a Net Security specialist is so awesome.

I don’t know what the whole point of this blabbering was, but yeah, summer in the US rocks.

I celebrated Labor Day at the Sausalito Art Festival, where Jefferson Starship closed off the entertainment festivities for the weekend. While this particular festival is a world class art show, my boyfriend, Dean and I make our decision on what day we will attend by the music schedule.

As the day approached, I had been contemplating why the bands of my youth still held such appeal to me. While I looked around at the crowd today, many of whom were older than me, I got more in touch with the answer. The music is a part of our history.  As we gathered there in Sausalito, it was like we were reclaiming a part of our soul. For that one hour while the band played, my heart felt an elation beyond the every day. It touched the spirit of what I felt in my youth–optimism, hope, joy of life, and most of all, a connection to those around me. We had all experienced a lot of life since we first heard those lyrics, yet despite all the changes, somehow the music reminds us of who we once were.

The Lesson

As I sit here on the morning after, I still feel a hightened sense of peace and aliveness. This experience has inspired me to strive to bring all parts of myself into my daily life so that the most precious pieces can live on and continue to touch me.

Woodstock, flower children, peace signs, anti-war protests,  the sexual revolution, and the funkiest clothes that any generation before (or since) had ever come up with.

Summer of Love, only 10L$ at Aqua.

• Aqua:  http://slurl.com/secondlife/Glinda/176/117/3502

The summer of 1967 is remembered as The Summer of Love.   No question the summer of 2009 should be remembered as The Summer of Hate.   The corporate health care industry sponsored Town Hall disruptions(an extension of the corporate sponsored teabag parties of this past spring) introduced to us the concept that one person, President Barack Obama, could be both a Nazi and a Marxist.  I was taught in high school social studies that Nazism/Fascism was the extreme right of the political belief system and Communism/Marxism was the extreme left.  But I went to a public school where prayer was not allowed, so my teacher was obviously working under the spell of Satan.

Soon after the town hall wars began, an actual former candidate for vice president of the United States accuses a sitting president of trying to create death panels.   Death panels already exist and most of us know where they are – at the corporate offices of private health insurers.

Right wing nutcasters like Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck accuse the President of being a nazi and a racist, respectively.   And apparently, millions of their listeners/viewers accept this kind of talk.

Now we cap things off with the death last week of Senator Edward Kennedy, who had lots of advantages and conversely, lots of burdens to bear in his life.  Chappaquiddick was a terrible tragedy and he should reported the incident to the local police immediately.  However, there it was a tragic accident, probably caused by drunk driving.   Comparing him to OJ and rejoicing at news of his death is, well, really nutty.   Of course, that’s not all.  His dad(who I personally never thought much of — just another power hungry rich guy) did deal in bootlegging.  Saying that the only good Kennedy’s are dead Kennedy’s – um, what happened in your life to make you so full of hatred?

Once again, dearest little babies – you lost, deal with it.  Get a diaper change and some powder for that rash – you’ll feel better soon.

Ya know, with the worst reminders of human nature everywhere in America right now, you can’t help but start to sour on human nature in general.  Not that I condone it, mind you, but I can see why some people prefer the company of their pets over other humans.

WHO WOULD YOU RATHER HANG WITH?

Angry, delusional sore losers?

...or these lovable little creatures, who only asked to loved & fed(& don't accuse each other of being "nazi socialists")

*LISTEN TO HammondCast HERE:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzxbtNsPovo

HammondCast 129 KYOU Radio, special guest BOOTS HUGHSTON organizer of Summer of Love 40th and West Fest – the Woodstock 40th anniversary celebration in San Francisco, LYDIA PENSE & COLD BLOOD “Face The Music”, “It Could Be YOU”, TERRY HAGGERTY & SONS OF CHAMPLIN “Things Are Getting Better”, JAMES BROWN “I’ll Lose My Mind” James at the organ, BILL DOGGETT “High Heels” JON HAMMOND “White Onions”
© www.HammondCast.com

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat Jon Hammond

Photo by Elmar Lemes at 802 Monday Night Jazz Session Jon Hammond at XK-3 organ

Jon Hammond is endorsed artist for Hammond Suzuki USA

HammondCast
Photo: Terence Hallinan backstage, photo by Jon Hammond

Summer of Love, Boots Hughston, Terence Hallinan, Jon Hammond, Lydia Pense, Terry Haggerty, West Fest, Woodstock Chet Helms, Family Dog, Sons of Champlin, KYOU Radio, ASCAP Network, Organ, Accordion, Speedway Meadows

*LISTEN TO HammondCast HERE:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzxbtNsPovo

HammondCast 129 KYOU Radio, special guest BOOTS HUGHSTON organizer of Summer of Love 40th and West Fest – the Woodstock 40th anniversary celebration in San Francisco, LYDIA PENSE & COLD BLOOD “Face The Music”, “It Could Be YOU”, TERRY HAGGERTY & SONS OF CHAMPLIN “Things Are Getting Better”, JAMES BROWN “I’ll Lose My Mind” James at the organ, BILL DOGGETT “High Heels” JON HAMMOND “White Onions”
© www.HammondCast.com

ASCAP Network Behind The Beat Jon Hammond

Photo by Elmar Lemes at 802 Monday Night Jazz Session Jon Hammond at XK-3 organ

Jon Hammond is endorsed artist for Hammond Suzuki USA

HammondCast
Photo: Terence Hallinan backstage, photo by Jon Hammond

Summer of Love, Boots Hughston, Terence Hallinan, Jon Hammond, Lydia Pense, Terry Haggerty, West Fest, Woodstock Chet Helms, Family Dog, Sons of Champlin, KYOU Radio, ASCAP Network, Organ, Accordion, Speedway Meadows

Mi immagino Elliott Landy al telefono con un amico:

“No, sto fine settimana non ce so per il barbeque… vado a Bethel a fa n’po’ de foto, a un festival… bho, me sa na cosa grande, ci sono tutti… tre giorni… vabò dai, c’arsentimo quando torno”.

15, 16, 17 Agosto 1969, Woodstock Festival: lui era il fotografo ufficiale. Questo 40esimo anniversario è stato ricordato da tutti, un po’ perché ad agosto i magazine e giornali non sanno più di cosa scrivere e un po’ perché, in fondo in fondo, siamo dei nostalgiconi e ci piace rinvangare l’utopia della Summer of Love. Io per prima; per questo non potevo perdermi la mostra fotografica Woodstock Visions alla Proud Gallery di Camden fino al 4 ottobre (sì, ancora lì: il luogo dove fotografia e rock diventano una cosa sola). Le immagini sono tutte firmate da Landy, il quale poteva girare indisturbato sul backstage, sullo stage e, fondamentalmente, ovunque. Non come i festival d’oggi, dove noi fotografi ci muoviamo in flotte per scattare a 2km di distanza dal palco, evitando il braccione mastodontico del tizio della sicurezza dallo sguardo assassino, e facendo slalom tra le telecamere roteanti di fronte agli artisti.

Per questo i ritratti live, come quello qui sopra di Janis Joplin, erano infinitamente più personali e intriganti di quelli di oggi. Ma le visioni di Landy non si limitano alla performance live e offrono un ritratto completo del firkkettone woodstockiano: folle sterminate di basettone, meravigliosi pantaloni a strisce colorate, adulatori di Swami Satchidananda che meditano davanti le loro tende preistoriche, ventri piatti di ventenni americane, un tizio in mezzo al fango con lo sguardo sconsolato, due ragazzi che si baciano, altri che si arrampicano per vedere meglio il palco… Ma, tutto sommato, una folla ordinata e tipiche immagini da festival. Perché Woodstock è Woodstock? Per il line up fotonico degli artisti, per l’aria che si respirava e il modo in cui si pensava. Woodstock è la guerra in Vietnam e le dimostrazioni pacifiste, le magliette psichedeliche di Janis Joplin e Joe Cocker, i baffi di Robbie Robertson, i sandali di Bob Dylan, lo sguardo trasognato di Grace Slick dietro le quinte, le dimostrazioni per legalizzare l’aborto, è Marlene Dietrich e Pearl Bailey, Britt Eklund e il nerd repubblicano pro-guerra. Questo trasuda dalle visioni di Elliott Landy.

E, naturalmente, Woodstock era anche Bob Dylan, che proprio lì – a Byrdcliffe – aveva una casa. Landy l’ha fotografato insieme alla famiglia nel 1968 ma non sembra mica lui: capelli pettinati, occhiali da vista, giacca formale e lo sguardo del buon padre che sorride al figlio stretto fra le braccia. Non me lo aspettavo: anche Bob Dylan è umano. Landy ha inoltre firmato la copertina di Nashville Skyline, mentre gran parte della stampa credeva che il suo fosse un nome inventato come alter ego di Dylan dal momento che uno è l’anagramma dell’altro.

Splendidi anche i ritratti alla Band, dal photoshoot per la copertina di Music from Big Pink, sempre scattati a Woodstock, nella Pasqua del 1968, dove i cinque barbuti vivevano. “L’elemento onnipresente nelle vecchie immagini è il rispetto” – spiega il fotografo nel libro Woodstock Visions prontamente accattato alla mostra. Landy racconta di come la visita di un fotografo fosse, allora, un’occasione insolita e importante. Gli artisti guardavano dritti all’obiettivo, in modo quasi solenne. “Era diverso da oggi, si era connessi con il pianeta terra”. Non con internet: mi sento una stronza a leggere queste parole, ripensando a come mi attacco all’i-phone manco fosse un polmone. Ma è domenica sera, lsciatemi essere nostalgica e pure retorica. Dopotutto è bello ripensare ai momenti che non si sono vissuti, lo facciamo tutti. E così ricordo quel pomeriggio di Pasqua, quando Landy chiedeva alla Band di sedersi su una panchina dando le spalle all’obiettivo e guardando dritto, dall’altra parte del laghetto. E’ strano come quella foto sia un ritratto, non del gruppo, ma solo della loro musica.

Qui sotto, Landy fotografato da Bob Dylan).

]]> http://halmasonberg.wordpress.com/2009/08/20/cinematic-masterpieces-woodstock-the-directors-cut/ Fri, 21 Aug 2009 05:47:18 +0000 halmasonberg http://halmasonberg.wordpress.com/2009/08/20/cinematic-masterpieces-woodstock-the-directors-cut/

It’s funny. I hadn’t seen WOODSTOCK in its entirety in probably over 20 years. I had watched performance clips on Youtube and, of course, remember certain moments and statements and “characters” from the film, but I had completely forgotten what an absolute masterful piece of cinema it was. WOODSTOCK is so much more than a compilation of musical performances. And what’s frightening is how easily the film could have been shot or reduced to that very thing if it had fallen into the hands of different filmmakers other than the team that ultimately defied the impossible and brought this film to life.

Director Michael Wadleigh, along with a ragtag team of some of the best documentary cameramen and women ever assembled, ace editor Thelma Schoonmaker and a very young editor and assistant director, Martin Scorsese, managed to work through some of the most difficult circumstances imaginable to capture the entire experience that was WOODSTOCK.

We all know the basic story: They expected between 150,000 to 200,000 people max to attend. They ended up with over half a million. A small city. No one was prepared. But that didn’t matter. From audience to performers to coordinators, everyone worked in unison to pull off an event that was almost entirely peaceful and cooperative. And people from all over came to help with medical attention, food, shelter, whatever was needed to turn this state of emergency into one of the greatest events ever successfully undertaken. It truly was an unintended statement to the world at large. It was proof of something better, a way of thinking, a way of being. It wasn’t just artifice, but a sampling of humanity. It was a living alternative. And everything that was said and done then, still resonates today.

And the film puts you right smack in the middle of it all. But it does so with a unique and powerful vision. Shot entirely on 16mm, the film was designed for and released in the 70mm format. Quite a leap. But Wadleigh and team pulled it off with some of the most daring split screen opticals ever seen. Suddenly, the stories within the story start to appear. What is being said or done on one side of the frame is being commented on, visually and otherwise, on the other. And the performances are each approached with a unique individuality to best capture the feel and flavor of the music, the performers, the environment in which they were playing and the audience to whom they were playing for. It wasn’t just about capturing the music, it was about becoming part of the whole event. Thanks to the visionary talents of the folks behind the cameras and in the editing room, WOODSTOCK the film doesn’t just show you the event, it is an elemental part of the event. And because of that, we are as well.

A great example is the CANNED HEAT segment of the film. One camera, one take. It’s a testament to Wadleigh’s eye, fluid camerawork and sense of the music (he was the handheld camera operator for this particular shot) and the great restraint and vision of the editors. It’s a powerhouse moment that personalizes the performers and the environment around them. Around us. There is no desire on the part of the filmmakers to disguise the fact that they are there. They are as much a part of what is happening on that stage as the band members themselves.

Then there’s THE WHO. Suddenly, we find ourselves with three separate frames within our single 70mm frame. The juxtaposition of images, many simply duplicates reversed to create a moving, breathing bookend to the center image, offer us not only different angles on the performers and crowd, but enhance–nay, recreate–the psychedelic and energetic nature of the music itself. It’s an all-absorbing journey deep into the psyche of the adventure that was taking place on Max Yasgur’s unsuspecting farm that evening. It is as much a visual feast of great complexity and wonder as it is a testament to the band’s unmatched musicianship and tirelessly vital performance.

And after each band completes their set, we return once again to the ongoing saga happening behind the scenes. Be it one hell of a rainstorm that nearly stopped the show in its tracks, or the thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams of the people attending, or the amazement, horror or joy of the local townsfolk at witnessing the behavior of their new neighbors, or the social impact one senses the event is already starting to have long before its conclusion is in sight, WOODSTOCK cinematically captures a world that is, in many ways, still with us.

While the “hippie” movement and Summer Of Love have faded into history, the remnants of those recent times have been absorbed into our everyday society, our very way of life. Health food stores have grown into chains, yoga is now as commonplace as school, spirituality has moved into new regions where the choices are endless and mainstream. It’s a far cry from the world that those who attended Woodstock may have envisioned, but changes were made nonetheless. Yeah, we still have wars and we moved into an age of greed and consumership that reflects the fear and confusion inherent in all societies and we still exhibit some of our puritanical roots, but we also have rallies and protests and the ability to call our leaders out and ask for something better. These are all things that were validated and given life in these times and the times that came before.

While there are many who believe the movement was misguided, short-lived and, ultimately, a failure, one has only to look around to see the effects it has had on the world in which we live. And the music that reflected the era, that spoke to a generation and beyond, is still some of the most powerful and heartfelt musical expression to be seen or heard anywhere throughout our long history. And WOODSTOCK the film shows us that in all its shades of light and dark. One need only witness the performances by Janis Joplin or Jimi Hendrix to understand and realize that there were geniuses in our midsts. And I do not throw that word around lightly. These were men and women who tapped into something rare, that segment of humanity who grace us with their inner voice, with a talent that belies their youthfulness, with a form of expression that deeply touches the soul of man and reveals it, naked and for all to see, with exquisite delicacy and wonder.

WOODSTOCK: THE DIRECTOR’S CUT is part of that revelation. And I am grateful for its existence. Both for its cultural value, its spiritual value, and its extreme artistic value, which I was far too young to comprehend when last I viewed the film. It is a place I hope to return to again and again. And next time, perhaps, I will take some others with me.

I just returned from L.A. where I sat in the audience of a new television reality series hosted by Tony Robbins called “Breakthrough” which will air on NBC in the coming months. Therefore, I’m late on reporting the latest figures from our model portfolio that I usually post on Monday. So this week I’ll throw in a change and show the results at the top of the post and then update my market outlook. I’m happy to report that we continue to show gains. But keep reading , there have been some important developments in my absence.

Now for the update. I read an article this morning reminding us of the 40th anniversary of Woodstock and using analogies and infamous quotes from the stage to describe the current market condition. I have to agree that this has been the Summer of Love for stocks. The good news is our model portfolio has benefited tremendously.

The bad news is that the exhuberence has pushed the S&P from a P/E of 10 early in the year to over 18 currently. This is the highest S&P 500 P/E since 2004. And though earnings of many companies are beating downgraded expectations, a closer look shows continued weakness at the core. Many of the gains have been obtained through one time cost cutting programs and accounting tricks that cannot be sustained. Revenues have declined and higher unemployment will lead to lower demand. This can’t bode well for future share prices.

Monday’s market decline broke through resistance that signals a short-term correction may be in store. Overnight declines in China have triggered worry in many overseas markets though, so far today, U.S. markets have held up well. This is, indeed, a Summer of Love for stocks, but I still remain cautious due to high valuations and overbought technical indicators.

Michael

P.S.
Tony Robbins did a first class job in the new series “Breakthrough”. Be sure to tune in when it airs in the Fall or possibly in January programming.

.
BY THE TIME WE GOT HOME FROM WOODSTOCK
THERE WAS A DRAFT NOTICE IN THE MAILBOX

HOW THE BOOMERS STOPPED THE VIETNAM WAR OR DIED TRYING

In Answer To An Ignorant Late-Boomer

It never ceases to amaze us how some people can just drift through life without ever realizing what is happening around them. It’s astonishing to hear the absurd notions of birthers and deathers, but they are not the first nor will they be the last to attempt to cobble together their own reality, with no factual input whatsoever. We usually associate this sort of ideation and behavior with the lunatic fringe of the American right wing. But here we have an example of similar historical distortion and delusional thinking from a supposed Leftist. His “rant” is relatively fact-free, and we have corrected his historical distortions, below:

SUZIE-Q
“The “Woodstock Generation” 40 Years on”
He often wonders, but he never thinks, or researches.

‘ I often wonder what Lady Emma might have thought about the so-called “sixties revolution”. There certainly was a lot to dance to, that’s for sure. But in the final analysis, I imagine she might have been just a bit disappointed with the Woodstock Generation. To be honest with you, I have always been a bit cynical on the subject of the Baby Boomers. The dirty little secret that no one (as far as I know) has yet dared to write about is that the youth revolt of the 1960s was born of out of the fact that the sons-of-privilege believed that the Vietnam War should have been fought by everyone and anyone but themselves ‘

First of all, the initial motivation for the “youth revolt” or “The Movement,” as we called ourselves, was not the Vietnam War but concern for others and for the planet itself: Banning the A-bomb, Civil Rights and conservation/ anti-pollution/ healthy foods, all going back to the 1940’s & ’50’s. The Vietnam War did not become a huge issue until well after the first large contingent of Marines landed there in August of 1965. U.S. casualties did not hit shocking levels until 1967, and they were not exactly trumpeted by the Johnson Administration at the time. The two great images from the war that shocked us all were not seen until 1968 and 1972. The fact is, most people of every age group in the 1960’s were simply unaware of what was going on in Vietnam, or even where it was, up until the disastrous Tet Offensive of 1969: You can blame the corporate media for that. They simply weren’t giving the war much play up until then. And most people tuned it out because, up until then, not that many people had family or friends that went to Vietnam. That began to change by 1969, after the third full year of full-scale war for large American ground combat units. That was the point also when images of the devastation the United States was wreaking upon the Vietnamese people themselves became the issue, not saving our own “privileged” asses, as the “video artist” puts it, above.

(continues)
.

.
Most people I knew in the Movement were lower middle class and working class, blacks, whites, Asians, Latino’s, men, women, kids and old people all shocked by what their government was doing in their name, and determined to do something about it. There were no “privileged” people involved that I knew, and most of us were actually quite vulnerable both financially and legally in doing what we did against a brutal and repressive government that could and did in fact use the criminal justice system, the Selective Service System and even the IRS against dissenters. The Administrations of both Johnson and Nixon used the police, the prisons, the draft and the full weight of all departments of the vast apparatus of the Federal government in all its’ forms as defense against and punishment for lawful actions against the war in Vietnam. We were all very much at risk for any action we took to stop the genocidal war in Southeast Asia.

As to the draft, it didn’t really mean much to anybody until it was almost over. LBJ did NOT end college draft deferments: Nixon limited them in 1972, but then stopped drafting men in 1973, hoping to undercut the already massive anti-war movement. Under Johnson and Nixon, there were so many deferments and exemptions available (for all females, overage males, underage males, conscientious objectors, clerics, high school & college students, technical school students, defense workers, Reserve & Guardsmen, prior service military, those with family members already in the service, married people with kids, sole support of the family, and almost any physical or mental problem) that you had to be REALLY naive, desperate for a paycheck, or “gung-ho” to end up in the military. Even then, most of our forces were someplace other than Vietnam.

ANYBODY could join the Guard & Reserve, they were hardly “elite” units. Most units were never called up, or didn’t see ground combat in Vietnam if they were called up. (Bush’s crime was going AWOL, not just signing up in the first place. Somebody else went to Vietnam in his place while he hid out FROM the Guard.) The Navy had very few people there who were actually in combat and at risk within South Vietnam, and the Air Force lost very few of the people it did have there, by comparison with losses in the Army & Marines. Even in the Army, most MOS’s were non-combat. Those in “combat arms” in the Army & Marine Corps, infantry, tanks & artillery, were the main personnel at risk on a daily basis, usually for one twelve or eighteen month tour, unless they volunteered for more. There was no “stop-loss.” Most enlistments were two or three years, or less, and many more enlisted than were drafted.

So, no; opposition to the war was not based entirely or even partly on selfish and cowardly motives, for most of us. In fact, it took more guts to stand up to the Fascistic bullsh*t that was going on than it did to hide out in the Guard, keep your mouth shut and hope your unit didn’t get called up. Many good people, kids, really, had their lives ruined by actively standing up to the government and speaking out against the war. And most who did speak out were motivated as much or more by strongly held moral and political concerns for the lives of others and opposition to the betrayal of our American principles of self-determination and anti-Imperialism than by any concern for their own safety. Many of us went to jail, lost our homes & families, had to leave the country or go underground for years, foregoing all the blessings of American middle class existence. Some were ruthlessly hunted down and a few were killed. It was not a good career move. For every Jerry Rubin, there were ten thousand Abbie Hoffman’s.

Let’s not forget those who did go to war, who were overwhelmingly working class and disproportionately black & Hispanic. They were all the hated “Boomers” too. Unemployment and unawareness of the alternatives, ignorance about the war and lack of other options led many of these guys into the military, as in every generation. They learned pretty quick, though. Some of the strongest opposition to the war came from returning Vet’s. They helped initiate outreach to other Vet’s and guys in the Guard, Reserve and on active duty in the regulars, and to working class kids who were at risk for going over there. “Boomers” all. It was the old rich Republicans who loudly supported the War but refused to go there. They are the ones who thought the Army was beneath them, and disrespected our returning troops by limiting their benefits and medical treatment. Most Democrats of that age in Congress after the war, rich or poor, served in the military during the Vietnam era, like Medal of Honor winner Bob Kerrey. Most Republicans, like Newt Gingrich, did not, just as conservative “patriots” like Ronald Reagan had not fought in combat, even in the dark days of WWII.

It was the older generation that supported the war up until the end. It was the WWII & Korean War people who went for Nixon and Humphrey and war and repression. It was that generation that strong-armed the rising progressive majority out of the Democratic Party, effectively keeping most of us out of government until well into the 90’s. Even then, all we had to vote for were Blue Dogs, mostly, like Clinton. Many Movement figures were kept out of electoral politics by bogus criminal convictions for protesting against the Vietnam War and for Civil Rights, and by the general corporatist drift of a Party purged of “Leftists,” i.e., the progressive majority. The rich, the old, the entrenched and the conservative tend to dominate in politics and in the economy, despite the cultural advances of the young, then and now.

But I won’t tar that entire generation the way our whiner did his own. There were many heroic figures from the WWII generation in the Movement, and they helped lead the opposition to the bomb, the war, racism, sexism, homophobia, nativism, sectarianism, fundamentalism, right-wing extremism & violence, poverty and social injustice. Did the WWII & Boomer generations succeed on every front? No, not yet, not 100%. But unlike the whiners, we fought on, and we will never stop fighting. We did change the world, as anyone old enough and smart enough can tell you. The “Counter-Culture” is now mainstream, although it has been co-opted and corporatized beyond recognition. It’s the Gen-X&Y-ers that have reduced it all to fashions and slogans, artifacts and labels, without understanding or adopting much that was good about the spirit that created that culture. They’re the ones who grew up Republican and “libertarian,” in opposition to their liberal and progressive parents, the Boomers.

The Counter-Culture was created by genuinely brave and outrageous people beginning in the oppressive 1950’s. It exploded as my own cohort became vocal and politically active at a very young age in the 1960’s. It continued on into the Seventies as the exuberance and curiosity, the openness and joy, the revolutionary and adventurous spirit carried over into our personal lives. I mean, among those of us who were capable of those things; always a minority, if a highly visible one.

This was a mass movement without a leader or a hierarchy, but most people did not have the courage or the vision to join it, though all were famously welcomed, and everyone ultimately benefited. Most people just plodded on like old plow horses in the same old strangulating harness. They’re the ones that voted Republican and DINO. They’re the ones that devoted their lives to the willfully blind pursuit of money and things. Mostly, they were never cool, and mostly, those who were cool never fell in with them. They certainly were not the “Woodstock Generation,” whatever their age. The “hippies” or freaks who fought against the war and created the Counter-Culture never went over to the enemy in large numbers. Those who did were never truly one of us. We’re the ones who are struggling to survive now as joyful anti-materialists in an increasingly joyless materialist’s world, where the younger generations have failed to embody much of any spirit, and dedicate themselves only to accumulating useless junk, from iPhones to retro-hippie paraphernalia. Sad. It’s like they were never young, but they never grew up, either.

Yes, we “Boomers” did grow up, and we did have to make some accommodations to survive in a world dominated by greedy, evil people, a tiny minority of whom seem to have always controlled everything, no matter what we did. But we never gave in to them, we never stopped fighting them, and in the long run, we will win, despite bitter hopeless little people who were too young to have experienced the real revolution of the 60’s, but too old to have grown up enjoying the emotional, spiritual and intellectual benefits of that revolution. You’re caught in between generations, whiners, so all you can do is p*ss and moan about things that are just objects to you: Books and records, posters and clothing. Sorry, man. That wasn’t it. What it was is what you missed: The spirit.

(cross-posted at blog me no blogs by cosanostradamus)
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