FEELING
GROOVY AGAIN The lady wore red velvet and had a bright red feather in her hair. She had evidently been toking on the bong a little too long, or something, because she was all worked up about the crowd in Golden Gate Park yesterday not giving the peace sign, the two-fingered salute ubiquitous during the Summer of Love. She buttonholed Chet Helms, the proprietor of the Avalon Ballroom during the height of psychedelic San Francisco, who threw the triumphant class reunion celebrating the 30th anniversary of hippie happiness, to tell him about this immense transgression. "Nobody's giving the peace sign, man,'' she told him. "Something is lacking in the crowd's motivation. C'mon -- the peace sign, man.'' Helms smiled weakly. "I'm not sure what you expect me to do about it,'' he said politely. But Helms managed to pull off everything else. After more than a year of planning, cajoling, pleading and probably even conniving, Helms brought together dozens of '60s rock musicians for a day of grooving in the park that will not soon be forgotten. From the surprise appearance of the recently re-formed Charlatans, the little-known band that actually started the San Francisco acid- rock revolution, to a massive stageful of Fillmore-Avalon era singers and players who closed the event by wobbling through the peace and love anthem "Get Together,'' the tranquil event was nothing but good vibes. "It worked,'' Helms said. Under a brilliant blue sky, a crowd of more than 10,000 promenaded around the Beach Chalet Meadow, a soccer field on the western end of the park between the landmark windmills that overlook the ocean. Hippie handcrafts were being hawked at every turn. A drum circle pounded away at the far end of the field, oblivious to the rhythms coming from the stage. People brought their children, their dogs and their bikes and stretched out across blankets to eat, frolic, listen to the music and drink beer from Summer of Love 30th. anniversary plastic commemorative cups. The music was almost incidental to the day. Country Joe McDonald gave the Fish cheer. The Sons of Champlin powered through a searing performance that could have come straight off the Avalon stage, except for the Blue Angels buzzing the field in formation. The Narada Michael Walden Experience, a band of session players put together by drummer-record producer Walden, evoked the spirit of Jimi Hendrix. Paul Kantner and his Airplane-Starship band mate Jack Casady, who had been playing until 3 in the morning in New York City the night before, threw together a kind of makeshift group -- Jefferson Aircraft? -- and hammered out a few of their old songs, so redolent of the times. "San Francisco is 49 square miles,'' Kantner told the crowd, "surrounded by reality.'' Police milled around the field, looking for all the world as if they had nothing to do but enjoy the concert. They certainly made no -- move on the booth openly selling pot cookies and cakes. In fact, there was probably more open pot consumption at yesterday's show than at any other time in Golden Gate Park since, well, the '60s. But maybe everybody had a prescription. The crowd looked a little older than it would have 30 years ago. Wavy Gravy had the audience send out an "Om'' to Ken Kesey, home recovering from a stroke. Helms announced the cancellation of the appearance of poet Michael McClure with Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek because Manzarek was home with a heart condition, which Helms said he understood since he, too, has suffered heart problems. He shouldn't have worried. The medical tent had EKG equipment. "We wouldn't have needed that 30 years ago,'' said the doctor. |