June 16, 2012 In the summer of 1969, when everyone old enough and hip enough was flocking to Yasgar's Farm in upstate New York for a music festival called Woodstock, I and most of my friends were looking forward to starting high school. The tidal wave of rock n roll, free love, tye-dye, psychedelics, and peace was just beginning to roll across the country from the west coast; it would find willing participants in the sleepy little mid-western town I grew up in.
It was music that brought us together in the early '70's at a seemingly abandoned building in downtown Marion Indiana (righteously name The 7th Street Warehouse), and it was music that brought us together Saturday night in a building once occupied by Freel and Mason drugstore in downtown Marion some 40 years later for a first attempt at a 'reunion' of sorts. Our 'Prophet,' Duke, started a Facebook Page about a year ago, called the '7th Street Warehouse People,' which mushroomed (no pun intended) like crazy once everyone started 'Liking' the page...technology and the phenomenon of social networking re-united the extensive network of mid western kids eager to re-connect to an era past, eager to re-connect to the music that is etched into our DNA. The memories, photographs and anecdotes appear across the Facebook Page and spread like wildfire as we reminisced about a place, a time, and a counterculture that had apparently, and so deeply influenced out lives. We were way ahead of our time at The Warehouse; local and regional bands played almost every weekend, it was the Filmore Midwest! Three guys did this far out thing with water, projectors, oil, food coloring, and God knows what else....projected it onto the screen behind the band, and Intrepid Visual Trips was born (think psychedelic.....like, wow , man. Through social networking, we discovered that most of us made it to adulthood fairly unscathed, most of us finished our education (ok, it took some of us ten years or more, but that wasn't unusual in that time period), we discovered that most of us had multiple marriages (no big deal either), those of us who had children could claim without a shadow of a doubt, LSD did NOT scramble the DNA or cause birth defects and we pointed to beautiful, healthy, intelligent children as testament to that statement.....and most importantly, we discovered that the music we flocked to hear at the Warehouse so long ago, was still very much the fabric of our lives. Just because we all have reached that half century mark, some of gone over, did not diminish the need for Rock n Roll. We talked of a reunion, we talked about a TV show (it's been done however - think, 'That '70's Show'), and we talked about a book (I have written the first few chapters just for grins) and I dubbed the now grown up group of tye-dye, hirachi sandal wearing music lovers, 'The Warehousians.' And then we talked about a reunion...again, and again...that's what aging Hippie-type people do I guess. Until finally, a couple of us said, fuck it, let's just do it....we picked a date,picked a place (for alas, the original Warehouse building was torn down years ago), and sent the word out via our Facebook Page....and we got a band together, which would be the focal point of the reunion (which actually became the official Planning Committee meeting for the much anticipated First Annual Warehousian Reunion next year) this past Saturday.
What we lacked in numbers, we made up for in enthusiasm. The place was Beatnik's on the square in Marion; the wall's inside are hung with tye-dye facbric, cheesy colored lights adorn the stage, and the rest of the decor is a hodge podge of what I call 'I-don't-give-a-shit' decorating stuck to the walls and hanging from the ceiling....but it was the perfect place to play music and re-connect with the brave, pioneering Warehousians who came out Saturday night!
Bobby put a couple of bands together (Intreped Visual Trips was NOT represented and they were missed), Stephen and Marty came from out-of-town to play....and you know you're getting old when the children of your friends is now playing drums for the band....and one by one, the Warehousians showed up. Since only Dan had a nametag (great idea Dan, I appoint you in charge of nametags for next year!),it was a challenge for this Warehousian to remember who everyone was and try to picture them as 16 again (we have always been convinced that if one truly remembers the times at The Warehouse, you really weren't there...)....until the girls showed up. Marta, Mickey, Bonnie,Lois....yes, we all sport a few more wrinkles and a little more flesh, but the years have NOT been unkind, and the teenage enthusiasm for music, whipped up with a good party.....has not been diminished by the passage of time!
By the time Bobby's band took the stage, everyone had gotten re-acquainted, after exclamations of 'Oh My God,' 'You look great' 'Damn, I wouldn't have recognized you,' and 'you haven't changed a bit since high school,' and the obligatory questions of 'what are you doing now?' 'How are the kids?' and 'do you remember.....?' we got down to the business of rock n roll. Stacey passed out the percussion instruments to the girls, the boys tore into some of our favorite blues and rock tunes and no one looked back. In that hot, smokey bar, we were all transported to the early '70's where we were doing the same thing...paying homage to an era, to the music, and to a generation that will never be forgotten. There is something special about this generation, this group of people from this little town....we knew it then, we know it now. I think of Taj Mahal's 'Music Keeps Me Together," song; it brought us together then, it brought us back together via social networking, and it will continue to bring us together as we rock on into the Millenium. Old rock n rollers just don't die...perhpas its a 'stairway to heaven,' maybe its 'all along the watchtower,' or 'the wall,' but whatever it is....the Warehousians will be there, ready with a song, ready with a party, and ready to embrace each other.
As the crowd started to wind down (damn, 11p...really??), and the music came to an end, we said our goodbyes, vowed to keep in touch, and promised to do this right next year.
July 3, 2013 Typical Pennsylvania Road I always hate saying ‘Goodbye’ to my Dad. He won’t travel since Mom passed several years ago, which means I don’t see him except in the summer when I travel North - or every few years during the Holidays. I’ve learned many things from my Dad; some of the lessons came hard, some of the lessons were difficult, and unfortunately, most of the lessons were learned much later in life. Had I paid attention the first time, my journey would not have been as rough, and my ability to grasp the many opportunities presented to me would have been easier. As my Dad and I both age, we get a long better, and our relationship had deepened after my Mom passed...for this I am grateful. I left Indiana early this morning - taking 35S - the fields were shrouded in a chilly mist as the sun cast a pinkish glow to the East. I was filled with anticipation that I was going to see Frank Lloyd Wright’s ‘Falling Water’ home south of Pittsburgh. Wh...
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