The Summer of Love reaches its boiling point in the summer of 1967. Janis has an epiphany watching Otis Redding while on acid. Her bond with the local chapter of the Hell's Angels is strengthened. Mama Cass becomes a new convert at a pivotal show at the Monterey Pop Festival. And the presence of a Beatle in the Haight calls into question the stamina of the peace and love movement.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
The twenty seven Club is a production of I Heart
Radio and Double Elvis. Janice Joplin died at the age
of seven, and she lived a life that often put
her in the right place at the right time. I
can give you twenty seven reasons why that statement is true.
One would be the Motley family of Outsiders, consisting of bikers, musicians, hippies,
(00:22):
and beat nix that she assembled in and out of
San Francisco. Twenty more would be the number of feet
into the air she found herself ascending the nights she
bore witness to the one and only Otis reading. Another
two would be the number of Hell's Angels out on Bail,
who received a hero's welcome in the Panhandle with a
soundtrack courtesy of Big Brother in the Holding Company. One
(00:43):
more would be the number of second chances she would
get to Wawa, Crowd and Monterey and have her performance
immortalized on film for the entire world to see. And
three other would be the number of years she had
left to live after George Harrison paid a visit to
her city by the Bay, only to find the sun
setting on the so called Summer of Love. On this
(01:05):
our third episode of season Three Fateful Nights, Hell's Angels,
Second Chances, The Quiet Beetle, and Janice Joplin Walking a
Winding Path to Liberation. I'm Jake Brennan and this is
the twenty seventh COH December the six, San Francisco. Janice
(02:02):
Joplin didn't feel like herself. She felt like she was
outside of her own body, like she was observing her
own existence. She wasn't even sure if she was Janis
Joplin anymore. Then, on the one hand, it was a
good thing that she didn't feel like herself, didn't sound
like herself when she spoke that, maybe she didn't even
look like herself anymore. Because she was back at the
(02:23):
film or auditorium, the place she'd been tossed out of
not so long ago. She felt like she was betraying
some unspoken rule by being there in the first place. Okay,
so the rule was admittedly spoken. Bill Graham had practically
screamed at her loud enough for the whole fucking block
to hear when he wouldn't let her pass the front door.
So this whole incognito trip, maybe it was for the best,
(02:45):
But it was a trip all the same, a trip
that she hadn't intended to take, and that's what was
On the other hand, that was the flip side of
the whole situation. She found herself in fumbling her way
to a seat near the front of the auditorium, while
keeping a lookout in every direction for the bitable hands
of Bill Graham screeching in towards her like eagle talents.
An unexpected LSD trip. She had knocked back vigorous swiggs
(03:09):
of cold duck earlier that evening. The fizzy fruit wine
tasted cheap. Janie wasn't above cheap, quite the contrary, but
each swigg was another she'd come to regret when the
sugar and alcohol had their way with her head the
following morning. Little did she know, a hangover will be
the least of her concerns. This magnum bottle of cold
(03:29):
duck passed around the apartment room from hand to hand,
musician to musician, beat nick to beat nick. This motherfucker
had been straight up dosed. Jannis didn't know it at first.
She didn't know it until after the first few halls,
when someone in the room said, ship, it doesn't taste
like sixty eight doses man. Someone else responded I counted
a man, every single one that we dropped in. There
(03:49):
sixty eight doses of Augustus Houseley, Stanley's finest, sixty eight doses.
The cold duck was spiked with sixty eight doses of LSD.
She's fucking hippies, Janice thought, running to the bathroom to
see if she could puke up what she had just consumed.
Not tonight. They weren't bringing her down tonight, these fucking hippies,
in their surprise doses. That's how it was done. Acid
(04:14):
was sprung on the unsuspecting. That's how the CIA did
it in nineteen fifty three when they handed military scientist
Frank Olsen a glass of orange liqueur, he jumped out
the window. And that's how the dentist John Riley did
it in nineteen sixty five when he handed John Lennon
and George Harrison some cups of coffee. They wrote a
song about it, but they called him Dr Robert. And
(04:35):
that's how the Grateful Dead did it. In nineteen sixty nine,
when they visited the Playboy Mansion and the swingers all
swung a little bit harder. Janice fell down to her
knees in front of the toilet and stuck two fingers
down the back of her throat. She wretched, and some
of the cold duck came roaring back and splattered inside
the toilet bowl. Her mouth tasted bitter, her head spun.
She flushed it down and washed her face and hoped
(04:57):
that she had purged the LSD from her system. She
had no control on LSC and on a night like
this night, a night when she planned to go back
to the fillmore and see Otis writing performed yet again,
she needed control, clarity, She needed to be present. She
got there early every night during Otis's run. She staked
her claim up front. She was a student. She soaked
(05:18):
up every shake, every shimmy, every note, every time Otis
would go from quiet, allowed to quiet again. And she
did it incognito. She did it with control. She dreaded
running into Bill Graham again. She was hopeful the time
it healed all wounds that Bill was no longer pissed
about the lack of love she gave his venue. In
that interview, she knew Bill was all talk. He liked
to puff his chest out do the manly thing, remind
(05:40):
her that she was a woman in a man's world.
That she didn't call the shots. Please. She knew all
about a man's world, and she knew how to navigate it.
She knew how to get back into the venue she'd
been possed from. Plus, Bill had better things to do
than nna century post just a peeper. Her plan once
she was inside was to be a sponge for a
few nights in a row, get down the otis thing,
(06:01):
learn no to speak otis b otis, and then she'd
be back. She'd be back at Bill Graham's film more
as the star of the show, because she would show
him what a woman could do. She would make him
regret the way he treated her, and he would be
so embarrassed that he wouldn't even mention that day to
be yelled at her. Janice would turn the tables on him,
and she'd be one of the people who defined that
rickety old auditorium. Bill Graham would be lucky to have her.
(06:25):
But she needed to do the sponge thing first, learn
from the master, and that required her attention and her control.
On this night, she hadn't either, and by the time
she got to the venue again she was early. The
LSD was kicking in. She hadn't been able to throw
it all up. After all, it was taking control of
her now. Each step she made towards the door of
(06:46):
the film were resounded through her body, vibrations that ricocheted
up from her heels, her thighs, her waist. They made
her want to move, to twist and bounce and shake
them all out of her body. She stepped inside the
venue and felt another seizement vibration up her legs and
her arms, and that's what she realized. She was no
longer inside her own body. She was hovering above herself,
(07:07):
above the crowd that was still small but starting to
grow larger, and she was so far up she nearly
touched the ceiling. Who's a total loss of control. She
knew what would happen, not how it would happen, but
she knew the acid would funk with her somehow. She
had lost total control over her physical body, and the
vibrations had been just at the beginning. Now she was
up above, floating in place unseeable, unknowable, and her body
(07:30):
did what it was going to do down below, whether
she liked it or not. The out of body situation
did have its perks. However, from her vantage point, she
could search the room for Bill, she could spy him
from afar and then somehow warned her physical body below.
She tried to make contact with her physical body with
her mind. She thought to herself, hey you hey, heyy me.
(07:51):
She thought it real loud, real loud in her mind.
She hoped her physical body would look to her left
and her right, trying to figure out where the telepathy
was coming from, and then Hovering Janis would think real
hard again, no dummy up here, I'm up here. But
physical Janis never looked around to indicate that she was
receiving the drug induced esp She just quietly made her
way to her usual seat a few rows from the front,
(08:14):
so that she was close enough to the stage but
didn't stand out like a sitting duck for Bill Graham's crosshairs.
When Otis came on stage with BOOKA t E mg S,
Janice received the swampy Memphis sole communion with psychedelic eyes.
She watched him from below in her seat and watched
him from above hovery she felt the base below in
the highs up top, Physical Janis heard the music Otis's way,
(08:37):
and Hovering Janis heard the music her way outside of
her own body. She heard R and B run through
her San Francisco filter by way of Texas R and
B that had been soaked in a bottle of cold
duck with sixty eight doses of LSD, and that's what
she would deliver. She would perfect her own brand of
psychedelic R and B. But first she had to come
down from this trip, become whole at again, regain control.
(09:01):
While she had the chance create the musical persona, she
would lose control again. It was inevitable, and next time
it would be darker and a lot more dangerous than
an out of body acid true chocolate. George Hendricks grabbed
(09:43):
hold of the throttle with his right hand to give
his bike a goose. Harley opened right up the unmistakable
sound of metallic flatulence. George felt the bike vibrate between
his legs and the winnie of an iron horse, and
the horse backfired and the sound ricocheted through the years
of every unsuspecting bystander. George's long beard was swept back
(10:05):
by the wind when the bike quickly shot forward before
resuming its leisurely pace. The pins and buttons are fixed
to his sleeveless jean jacket rattled he was flanked on
either side by other Hell's Angels, other outlaws on bikes.
It was a sea of bikes, a symphony of engine
rows and backfires and sputtering. His helmet looked like something
(10:26):
from the shores of Normandy, like he was ready for battle,
flanked by this battalion of MC brothers. But he was
returning from a battle, not marching into it. This was
their victory march, a parade of solidarity. He'd been taken
hostage by the other side, the state sanctioned side, the cops.
He had been taking hostage with his brother Harry Henry Cott,
(10:48):
and spent a night in the other sides Chromie jail cell,
where they were leered at by a bunch of crew
cut wearing jocko fucos. But now they were free, and
now they'd celebrate as the dawn rose on the longest
stating summer of love. The hippies weren't the only ones
that the cops were after. In San Francisco, a sfp
(11:08):
D wasn't just busting up acid test parties. They were
on the prowl for anyone who looked, sounded, smelled, or
thought differently. They arrested Ron theland for reading the poetry
or Jacques Prevay on the steps of city Hall. And
they arrested Ama Jester Fleming for wearing an American flag,
and they arrested puppeteers in the middle of a show
on a street corner. They arrested Phillis Wilner for standing
(11:31):
up on the back of Harry Henry Cott's motorcycle. And
then they arrested Chocolate George when he came running to help.
It was December ninety six. Hate Street. Phillis was a
team runaway from Jamaica Queen's. She got the San Francisco
on the back of a motorcycle. The Diggers handed out
free food in the Panhandle. They called money an unnecessary evil.
(11:53):
They distributed flyers encouraging the citizens of San Francisco to
surrender their money, which would then be distributed all chair
and MoU like. And now the Diggers who were organizing
a parade that would ring in the new year, but
it also signaled the death of money in the rebirth
of the Hate. Phyllis arrived with a snow white cape
draped around her shoulders. She jumped on the back of
(12:14):
Harry Henry's Harley dug her left hand into his shoulder
and extended her right hand straight into the air. Free
she yield into the wind. As Harry Henry made his
Harley hum and his free the cops threw on their lights.
They pulled Harry Henry over. They said they were charging
him for allowing a person to stand up while driving
a motor vehicle. They didn't have time for the angel's
(12:36):
bullshit or the hippies bullshit either. Harry Henry was in trouble,
a bigger kind of troubled, and simply letting a girl
in a flowing white cape drive on the back of
his bike, he was in violation of his parole from
Sam Quentin. He'd go downtown, get real cozy with the
inside of a jail cell, trade a sparkling chrome for
some rusty steel chocolate. George saw a brother in peril,
(13:00):
he jumped into action. He swung his bike around and
went to Harry Henry's rescue. But even though like most angels,
he had a soft side chocolate, George went full crazy
bat ship biker on the pigs, and the pigs offered
him a seat next to his good pal on the
inside of the San Francisco Police Department headquarters. It was
the Diggers that bailed the boys out. The activist group
(13:21):
took a break from handing out free food in the Panhandle,
pass the hat for some of that evil US currency
and then put it to good use. Like the good
old merry Men. They were not Mary Prankster's. They bailed
out Chocolate George and Harry Henry from jail. Pete Nell,
president of the San Francisco chapter of the Hell's Angels,
said the motorcycle club would never forget the gesture, never
(13:43):
forget what the Diggers and the hippies did for them
that day. The Angels would show their appreciation the way
they knew how they'd throw a party, and that was
where Chocolate George and the rest of the Angels were
on their way to that day, New Year's Day seven,
as they rode their bikes outfhantly through the city the
Panhandle near the Golden Gate Park. They were free and
(14:05):
their incarcerated Iron Horse brothers had been set free, and
the ensuing party was heavy on bike's boos. Recently criminalized
the lists of substances in music. They called it the
New Year's Whale. That's w A I L A real
Wang Dang doul affair, and who better? The angels thopped
to provide the soundtrack to their freedom and the ongoing revolution.
(14:25):
Then big brother in the holding company, Who better Chocolate
Church had said, as he took a hulk size sip
for vodka spike chocolate milk to sing out loud for
the whole city to hear. Than jazz Chopolin the hell's
Angel's little sister, the one who accepted them for who
they were. Outsiders, rule breakers, law venders, pig provokers. She
was all of those things herself, a Port Arthur, Texas
(14:48):
girl who railed against Port Arthur, Texas things. She wasn't
a biker, She didn't worth leave this Denno jackets or
crank the throttle of a steel hog. But she rebelled
the way the angels rebelled, and she wanted to live
her life if when they lived there is wild, untethered
from the past. Out in the opening free the angels
were above the law. They were against the law. They
(15:10):
would make some questionable choices in their time. Their freedom
would run a little too rampant. Their choices would sometimes
result in destruction, even death, even the death of a fan,
a fan of the music at a speedway sixty miles
east of the Bay. But Janie always forgave. Janice stuck
by their side, a fellow outsider trying to get free.
In return, the Angels didn't just offer her banned gigs
(15:32):
poniful gigs for that matter. When the big wigs in
town like Bill Graham, threw her ass out on the street,
but the Angels offered her protection, Janie was looked after,
taking care of sheltered. It was like a family, really,
a family that was handmade by those who were part
of it. A motley crew of musicians and beat nis
and bikers and Big Brother took the ragtag family maximum
(15:53):
to the extreme and following the lead of the Grateful Dead,
moved into a cottage together outside Lagnitas and Maray In County.
It was tucked away in a redwood forest, almost an
hour outside of the city, and they read the place
from the ex wife of a forest ranger. They called
it Argentina because a pro Paine tank nearby bor graffiti
that read quote Carlos is alive and well in Argentina.
(16:17):
Whatever the hell that meant. Janis and Big Brother found
the kind of resistance from the locals and lagnitas that
they had previously found in Chicago and Nebraska. Up north,
there were just some more wayfaring, druggy dropouts. The farther
they went from San Francisco, the harder it was to
live that liberation lifestyle, and so they spent their time
making their family of freaks and outsiders bigger, hanging with
(16:39):
the Angels and with other bands who lived communally, like
The Dead and Quicksilver Messenger Service, who shacked up together
in a lima at the Dead's compound. Janice gravitated towards
Ron McKernan, the guy they called pig Pen, a nickname
given to him due to his funky approach to life
and sanitation. Pig Pen was the badass member of the
Grateful Dead, the one who started drinking round aage twelve
(17:00):
when he bought whiskey off of a bootlegger for a
buck fifty a gallon. Like Janie, he was knee deep
in whatever blues music he could get his hands on.
He watched old blues players in the clubs of Paula
I was a kid, and then picked up a harp
and a guitar and tried to do it himself. He
was the only member of the Dead that you can
mistakenly peg for a member of the Hell's Angels. The
(17:21):
devilish facial hair, the corduroy cowboy hat, the jean jacket
adorned with pins and buttons, and the long dark hair
kept it babe by a thick patterned headpand but beneath
the gruff exterior, pig Pen, it was a softy and
a sweetheart. Janice fell for Hart. She loved the gruff exterior,
(17:41):
she loved the sweet interior. She wanted the good and
the bad, the musician and the Hell's Angel. Pig Pen
was all of that. Big Brother and the Dead would
engage in another of their communal life. Hank Sessions and
Janis and pig Pen would make their way into the
corner of the room like there was no one else there,
and they passed the bottle of other comfort back and forth,
(18:02):
and then they'd sneak off to pig Pen's room. And
there was a much privacy in a communal home shared
by a large band with an even larger entourage. And
Bob were immortalized. They're not so secret romance and looks
like rain and from the Angels to Argentina. Janice was
expanding her world, branching out beyond the confines of the hate.
The family that she was cultivating was expanding too. And then,
(18:24):
on a weekend in June seven and the seaside town
of Monterey, a serpentine shot down coastal Route one from
the Bay in Janice's reach, went viral worldwide. Soon everyone
would see in janeee exact things that chocolate George and
pig pensaw. That's psychedelic R and B she gleaned from Otis.
Even those snobs from way over yonder in Los Angeles
(18:46):
who want to be a member of her, outside her party.
We'll be right back after this word were Mama Cass
Elliott wasn't a stranger to revelation, the moments that came
(19:07):
out of nowhere from a stage from the sky, the
moments that literally changed everything forever. She had one of
those moments in the summer somewhere in the Virgin Islands.
Cass was just standing there singing when the pipe fell
from the ceiling. It came loose some thin metal piece
(19:28):
of plumbing and went straight down direct hit. Cass was
the fourth and newest member of the Mammas and the
papas a vocal group built from the ashes of the
new Journeyman and the mugwumps. Real folk die are types.
She decamped to a little slice of Paradise with her
bandmates John and Michelle Phillips and Denny Doherty to work
(19:48):
out their harmonies, give the new songs a spin, get
their ship together before they left the East Coast for California.
And they wanted to shed their old folk music skin,
go electric, jump on Ellen's one eighty train while seats
were still available, and be a part of history. John
had just the song. It was a call and response cast.
(20:09):
As parts echoed the main lyric, it sounded prophetic, like
the song itself was a crystal ball. It wasn't just
about California. It was about a new day, a new sound,
a new coast and new reality. And the forceome delivered
the refrain and chilling minor key harmonies, who was downright
spooky in its beauty cast felt a chill run up
her back as their voices locked in. She knew she
(20:31):
had the strongest voice in the group, and despite John's reservations,
she knew that the real reason that John gave her
so much shit about her weight and her oversized personality
was really just because he was jealous of her voice.
He was scared of her voice. So she let it
ring out loud and clear during the song's final repeated line,
to impress John, but also to scare him some more.
(20:53):
And then the pipe came down on her head. They
were rehearsing in a club which was under renovation. I'll
plumber in the rafters above and knocked a piece of
piping blues. It fell hard and fast as soon as
it landed on her head, Cast at the floor song
over Castover. She was down, she was out. But when
she woke up in the hospital, she discovered that she
(21:14):
had suffered a concussion. But she discovered something else too.
Her voice. It went higher, suddenly, her range was increased
by a few notes. The very thing that it knocked
her to the ground had in fact made her stronger.
Cast His life was like that, full of happy accidents.
She learned to cultivate those revelatory moments. She made a
(21:34):
place for them to happen, opened her door and let
them in her house in the Laurel Canyon neighborhood of
Los Angeles. Became a regular hangout for the droves of
musicians who were making the mountainous terrain their own creative sandpit.
Joni Mitchell, David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Mickey Dolan's, Eric Clapton.
They came from all over, filled ash trays, past bottles,
pasted joints, swam in the pool, worked out new songs.
(21:57):
Laurel Canyon was an entire culture built around creating those moments.
And then at the Monterey International Pop Festival in Monterey,
California in June, Cass had another moment. It wasn't a
pipe from a ceiling, but it knocked her out just
the same. It was Janice Job. Cass's jaw dropped when
(22:18):
Janie and Big Brother took the stage and squeezed the
blues out of Big Mama Thornton's ball and Chain. It
wasn't just Big Brother's raw treatment of the blues or
the way their brand of R and B was drenched
in Bay Areas psych It was Janice. She was electrified,
she was possessed. She shouted Hollard, stopped her heel down
on the stage, let her throat just ripped apart with
(22:38):
anguish and pain, and the band unspoiled behind her, the
guitars flowing like unruly hippy hair, and then without notice,
the whole stage tightened up, got quiet real quick. Janie's
voice was no longer ravaged, it was tame and intimate,
and then the unraveling happened again. Janie's body was taken over.
(22:58):
She shook, she got them like she was using it
to stabilize yourself, and stuttered loudly, turning the stutter into
a hook, turning it into a baby. She had taken
Otis writing his own moves, the dynamics of his performance,
and made them her own. She was trying to out
Otis Otis who just happened to be one of the
more than thirty performers at the three day festival that
weekend in June, and cast his jaw didn't leave the ground.
(23:20):
The song ended, and she was still in shock. She
had witnessed something, one of those moments the whole audience
was shook. Then it was a moment that was nearly
lost to history. The Monterey International Pop Festival is best
known as the place where Americans were first introduced to
the Jimi Hendrix experience. The Who and Ravi Shankar but
(23:44):
it was also the first time that artists like Janison
Otis became household names. Organizers hired Da Penna Baker, the
documentary filmmaker behind the Dylan flick Don't Look Back, to
make a movie of the Weekend. Janis and Big Brother
were there as part of the San Francisco contingent, which
included the Dead and Jefferson Airplane, but the Los Angeles
(24:06):
contingent ran the show. John Phillips helped organize Monterey Pop
from his office in l A. L A was another
galaxy as far as San Franciscans were concerned. Buffalo Springfield,
the Doors loved. They were all sunset strip bands. They
said they were hippies, but they had that neon city glow.
The San Francisco contingent it was so weary of the
(24:27):
l A scensters that they refused to allow Penna Baker's
crew to film them in Monterey Pop. Penna Baker had
cred Monterey Pop would get the raw, unfiltered pen of
Baker treatment. That no one had beef with Penna Baker.
It was the Los Angelenos, a shifty eyed motherfucker's running
the show. They weren't hippies. They were rich hippies. They
were the establishment now, but they were still playing the
(24:48):
part of the anti establishment to the San Franciscans. John
Phillips and his l A crew were fast talk or
city slickers, hucksters. They weren't going to let themselves get
greased by the fucking mamas and the papas. Julius Carpin
said no. He told d. A. Pennebaker to shut the
cameras off. He said that Janice was off limits. He
wouldn't sign the release for him unless John Phillips wanted
(25:09):
to cough up some dough or give the band creative
control over the footage. He said that he'd sue if
they didn't do as he asked, or maybe he'd break
all the fucking cameras altogether. Maybe he'd do both. Julius
was ex Mary Prankster former Ken Kesey. Crony Big Brother
hired him in early sixty seven as their new manager,
a long time coming replacement for Chet Helms. Inspired by
(25:30):
the Pranksters and their further bus, they got a nineteen
fifty two Cadillac Hurst to haul their gear. Julius made
sure the band had wheels a few roadies to throw
equipment around, expertly rolled joints to toke. But at Monterey,
Janice wasn't smoking with Julius was smoking. When she found
out that the cameras weren't rolling during Big Brother's performance,
she was bullshit. She got in Julius's face and asked
(25:53):
what the fucking problem was, and Julius wouldn't budge. The
festival's promoters, John Phillips and his l A cronies, made
nearly a half a million dollar deal with the filmmakers.
Big Brother wasn't seeing one set. It was a non
starter for Julius. John Phillips offered Big Brother a second
slot on Sunday, the final night of the festival, if
they would agree to be filmed. Janice ran into Albert Grossman,
(26:15):
Bob Dylan's manager, and asked for his advice. The band
was nervous. Janice talking to Grossman reminded them of Janice
talking to the Lectura records that were terrified that Janice
would big time them. But all she wanted was for
Grossman to tell Julius to funk off. Instead, Grossman gave
her the confidence to tell Julius herself. She got in
(26:36):
Julius's face again, threatened his employment, told him she would
fire his ass right there and then if he didn't
agree to John Phillips's offer. Julius was rattled. Janice was
making a scene. Julius relented, He allowed it, and Big
Brother played a second set on Sunday night, and from
that set, Ball and Chaine became a starmaking show stopper
in Penna Baker's film. But the damage had been done.
(26:59):
Tensions who were once again high in the Big Brother camp.
The tension between Janie and Julius was palpable, and now
it was starting to affect the band as a whole.
Everyone was nervous, suspicious, paranoid, unhappy. It was an uneasy
feeling that was about to ripple through San Francisco, despite
its idyllic summer of love, and hit Janice where it
(27:20):
hurt Auguste. Word traveled fast, and they hate store front
(27:50):
the store front from the doorway of the Psychedelic Shop
to the wild west of the Panhandle where the diggers
handed out food. From the corner of the film War
to the middle of the Golden Gate Park. There's a
beetle and they hate no ship. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts
club band was still brand new, a British take on
the psychedelic sounds coming from America. It was a perfect
(28:11):
compliment to the now official Summer of Love, as she
had Helms and others had crowned the Summer of nineteen
sixty seven in a press conference in May, and now
one of its authors, the man behind the transcendental Within
You Without You, was just taking a leisurely stroll through
the streets of San Francisco. People on the street made
eye contact and then made their voice heard that's George Harrison.
(28:33):
There was no denying it. It was the quiet beatle
in the flesh. His mob top gone tropo Lonely Hearts mustache.
Below even more breathtaking was Patty Boyd, George's wife, who
walked by his side. A group of locals assembled as
they walked. They wanted autographs, hugs, advice, they wanted to
hear a song, and the group of people became large
enough that at some point it crossed over to a mob.
(28:55):
And then the mob became large enough that it could
no longer move down the street as one, so it
had to stop, and then it began to close in
on George. George was stuck in the middle, watching eyes
expand and contract and bug out in his general direction.
Hands reached out to touch him, to glean some sort
of wisdom through physical contact, to hand him a book,
pass on some insects, give him a joint or a dose.
(29:18):
He was weary of it all, and the dose was
the dropouts, the hippies. The whole scene was curdling right
before his eyes. The kids started to grab form lunge
at him. Hands holding out books and joints and doses
became claus and swung and missed. Voices that made requests
for songs became accusatory insults, and he wouldn't swallow their
particular pill. This self medicated land of life affirming, creative liberation,
(29:40):
one that George and the boys that admired from Afar
and felt an emotional and creative connection with, crumbled all
around him. All that was left was a bunch of
needy kids, stoned and baked and fried, grasping and groaning
like zombies. It was all too much. George needed to escape.
He needed to find a way out before they turned
on him. He feared whatever was happening in the hate
(30:01):
had already happened, and that he was too late. That
same summer, the Summer of Love, Janis Joplin's parents, Seth
and Dorothy Joplin, flew from Texas to San Francisco to
visit their daughter. They wanted to see where she lived,
who she was hanging out with, the band she was
playing with, and they were far from thrilled. The life
(30:23):
she was leading was too free to unstructured. Like George Harrison,
they too feared that they had arrived in San Francisco
too late. For different reasons. They disapproved of Janice's cheap apartment,
the pictures on her wall. Every picture was the same
picture won the photographer Bob Siderman had taken of her
that year. In it, she wore only beads, most of
(30:44):
which covered her breasts. Her hands were strategically placed directly
below her waist. The shot didn't bother. She loved it.
It empowered her. In fact, she had been the one
to suggested Bob that she not wear any clothes. She
didn't tell her parents that fact. Seeing the naked picture
of their daughter was shocking enough. Seth turned his head
(31:05):
while Dorothy put her hands over her eyes of Janice's
fourteen year old brother, Michael, who had joined them on
the trip along with Janice's eighteen year old sister Laura.
Sensing the disapproval in the apartment room, Janice took them
all to the avalon, where she asked the guys and
Moby Grape if big brother could slip in during their
set to play a few tunes for her folks. Laura
(31:25):
and Michael were in awe of their big sister on
stage with that larger than life voice giving directions to
an entirely male band. She was their sister, but in
that moment she was also their idol. Seth and Dorothy
weren't as impressed. Janice could tell. It was the same
moment with her parents, the one where she tried to
impress them, tried to please them, try to show them
(31:47):
that she was free now she was going to be
just fine. But he didn't believe her, and the Joplins
cut out for Texas, and Janice was left feeling dejected.
She had failed them again, just like the last time
and the time for she was always failing them, and
so she dealt with the sting of rejection the way
she had in the past, her past haunted her. Her
(32:08):
past was always there, waiting until she lost control one
more time, and she turned herself into one of those
San Francisco zombies. If only for a day or a night,
or a week or a month, she'd numb herself with
what she could get her hands on. The darker the better,
the more cavern is dwelling, the high was the better.
And after all, it was summertime and the living was
supposed to be easy. So and she'd find that cavern
(32:30):
in her mind and she'd get there straight with a
shot of junk that was darker and harder than any
of the petrol tainted stp acid that was going around.
She would think about her parents leaving San Francisco for
Port Arthur, and then she started to nod off as
she drifted into a thick, gooey heroin I. She couldn't
help but think about the last time she was a
(32:50):
disappointment to her parents, a time when she first came
to San Francisco discovered that she couldn't handle it, couldn't hang.
That time she liberated herself all on that time she
ran back to Port Arthur, pounds soaking, wet, strong, out
on meth wondering what the hell she was gonna do
with her life, wondering if she would ever be free.
(33:13):
I'm Jake Brennan, and this is the twenty seven Club,
all right. This episode of The twenty seven Club is
brought to you by disgrace Land, the award winning music
and true crime podcast that I also host. Disgrace Land
(33:36):
is available only on the free Amazon Music app. To
hear tons of insane stories about your favorite musicians getting
away with murder and behaving very badly. Nirvana, Prince, Jerry
Lee Lewis, The Grateful Dead, the Rolling Stones, Cardi Bate,
and many many more. Go to Amazon dot com slash
disgrace Land, or if you have an Echo device, just
say hey Alexa play the Disgraceland podcast. The seven Club
(33:58):
is hosted and co written I Meet Jake Brennan. Zeth
Wandi is the lead writer and co producer. Not voting
mixes the show. Additional music and score elements by Ryan
Spraaker and Henry Lenetta. The twenty seven Club is produced
by myself for Double Elvis and partnership with iHeart Radio.
Sources for this episode are available at double Elvis dot com.
On the twenty seven Club series page. Our previous seasons
(34:21):
on Jimmy Hendricks and Jim Morrison are available for you
to binge right now wherever you get your podcasts, and
if you'd like you here, please be sure to find
and follow the twenty seven Club on the I Heart
Radio app, Apple podcast or wherever you get shows. And
if you'd like to win a free twenty seven Club
poster designed by the man himself, make Gonzalez, then leave
a review for twenty seven Club on Apple podcast or
(34:43):
hashtag subscribe to twenty seven Club on social media. Will
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Double Elvis Instagram page. That's at Double Elvis. Give that
a fall. So get out there and spread the word
of a twenty seven Club and you can talk to
me per usual on Instagram and Twitter at this Graceland
pot Rock Corolla. What's up for your is
The twenty seven Club is a production of I Heart
Radio and Double Elvis. Janice Joplin died at the age
of seven, and she lived a life that often put
her in the right place at the right time. I
can give you twenty seven reasons why that statement is true.
One would be the Motley family of Outsiders, consisting of bikers, musicians, hippies,
(00:22):
and beat nix that she assembled in and out of
San Francisco. Twenty more would be the number of feet
into the air she found herself ascending the nights she
bore witness to the one and only Otis reading. Another
two would be the number of Hell's Angels out on Bail,
who received a hero's welcome in the Panhandle with a
soundtrack courtesy of Big Brother in the Holding Company. One
(00:43):
more would be the number of second chances she would
get to Wawa, Crowd and Monterey and have her performance
immortalized on film for the entire world to see. And
three other would be the number of years she had
left to live after George Harrison paid a visit to
her city by the Bay, only to find the sun
setting on the so called Summer of Love. On this
(01:05):
our third episode of season Three Fateful Nights, Hell's Angels,
Second Chances, The Quiet Beetle, and Janice Joplin Walking a
Winding Path to Liberation. I'm Jake Brennan and this is
the twenty seventh COH December the six, San Francisco. Janice
(02:02):
Joplin didn't feel like herself. She felt like she was
outside of her own body, like she was observing her
own existence. She wasn't even sure if she was Janis
Joplin anymore. Then, on the one hand, it was a
good thing that she didn't feel like herself, didn't sound
like herself when she spoke that, maybe she didn't even
look like herself anymore. Because she was back at the
(02:23):
film or auditorium, the place she'd been tossed out of
not so long ago. She felt like she was betraying
some unspoken rule by being there in the first place. Okay,
so the rule was admittedly spoken. Bill Graham had practically
screamed at her loud enough for the whole fucking block
to hear when he wouldn't let her pass the front door.
So this whole incognito trip, maybe it was for the best,
(02:45):
But it was a trip all the same, a trip
that she hadn't intended to take, and that's what was
On the other hand, that was the flip side of
the whole situation. She found herself in fumbling her way
to a seat near the front of the auditorium, while
keeping a lookout in every direction for the bitable hands
of Bill Graham screeching in towards her like eagle talents.
An unexpected LSD trip. She had knocked back vigorous swiggs
(03:09):
of cold duck earlier that evening. The fizzy fruit wine
tasted cheap. Janie wasn't above cheap, quite the contrary, but
each swigg was another she'd come to regret when the
sugar and alcohol had their way with her head the
following morning. Little did she know, a hangover will be
the least of her concerns. This magnum bottle of cold
(03:29):
duck passed around the apartment room from hand to hand,
musician to musician, beat nick to beat nick. This motherfucker
had been straight up dosed. Jannis didn't know it at first.
She didn't know it until after the first few halls,
when someone in the room said, ship, it doesn't taste
like sixty eight doses man. Someone else responded I counted
a man, every single one that we dropped in. There
(03:49):
sixty eight doses of Augustus Houseley, Stanley's finest, sixty eight doses.
The cold duck was spiked with sixty eight doses of LSD.
She's fucking hippies, Janice thought, running to the bathroom to
see if she could puke up what she had just consumed.
Not tonight. They weren't bringing her down tonight, these fucking hippies,
in their surprise doses. That's how it was done. Acid
(04:14):
was sprung on the unsuspecting. That's how the CIA did
it in nineteen fifty three when they handed military scientist
Frank Olsen a glass of orange liqueur, he jumped out
the window. And that's how the dentist John Riley did
it in nineteen sixty five when he handed John Lennon
and George Harrison some cups of coffee. They wrote a
song about it, but they called him Dr Robert. And
(04:35):
that's how the Grateful Dead did it. In nineteen sixty nine,
when they visited the Playboy Mansion and the swingers all
swung a little bit harder. Janice fell down to her
knees in front of the toilet and stuck two fingers
down the back of her throat. She wretched, and some
of the cold duck came roaring back and splattered inside
the toilet bowl. Her mouth tasted bitter, her head spun.
She flushed it down and washed her face and hoped
(04:57):
that she had purged the LSD from her system. She
had no control on LSC and on a night like
this night, a night when she planned to go back
to the fillmore and see Otis writing performed yet again,
she needed control, clarity, She needed to be present. She
got there early every night during Otis's run. She staked
her claim up front. She was a student. She soaked
(05:18):
up every shake, every shimmy, every note, every time Otis
would go from quiet, allowed to quiet again. And she
did it incognito. She did it with control. She dreaded
running into Bill Graham again. She was hopeful the time
it healed all wounds that Bill was no longer pissed
about the lack of love she gave his venue. In
that interview, she knew Bill was all talk. He liked
to puff his chest out do the manly thing, remind
(05:40):
her that she was a woman in a man's world.
That she didn't call the shots. Please. She knew all
about a man's world, and she knew how to navigate it.
She knew how to get back into the venue she'd
been possed from. Plus, Bill had better things to do
than nna century post just a peeper. Her plan once
she was inside was to be a sponge for a
few nights in a row, get down the otis thing,
(06:01):
learn no to speak otis b otis, and then she'd
be back. She'd be back at Bill Graham's film more
as the star of the show, because she would show
him what a woman could do. She would make him
regret the way he treated her, and he would be
so embarrassed that he wouldn't even mention that day to
be yelled at her. Janice would turn the tables on him,
and she'd be one of the people who defined that
rickety old auditorium. Bill Graham would be lucky to have her.
(06:25):
But she needed to do the sponge thing first, learn
from the master, and that required her attention and her control.
On this night, she hadn't either, and by the time
she got to the venue again she was early. The
LSD was kicking in. She hadn't been able to throw
it all up. After all, it was taking control of
her now. Each step she made towards the door of
(06:46):
the film were resounded through her body, vibrations that ricocheted
up from her heels, her thighs, her waist. They made
her want to move, to twist and bounce and shake
them all out of her body. She stepped inside the
venue and felt another seizement vibration up her legs and
her arms, and that's what she realized. She was no
longer inside her own body. She was hovering above herself,
(07:07):
above the crowd that was still small but starting to
grow larger, and she was so far up she nearly
touched the ceiling. Who's a total loss of control. She
knew what would happen, not how it would happen, but
she knew the acid would funk with her somehow. She
had lost total control over her physical body, and the
vibrations had been just at the beginning. Now she was
up above, floating in place unseeable, unknowable, and her body
(07:30):
did what it was going to do down below, whether
she liked it or not. The out of body situation
did have its perks. However, from her vantage point, she
could search the room for Bill, she could spy him
from afar and then somehow warned her physical body below.
She tried to make contact with her physical body with
her mind. She thought to herself, hey you hey, heyy me.
(07:51):
She thought it real loud, real loud in her mind.
She hoped her physical body would look to her left
and her right, trying to figure out where the telepathy
was coming from, and then Hovering Janis would think real
hard again, no dummy up here, I'm up here. But
physical Janis never looked around to indicate that she was
receiving the drug induced esp She just quietly made her
way to her usual seat a few rows from the front,
(08:14):
so that she was close enough to the stage but
didn't stand out like a sitting duck for Bill Graham's crosshairs.
When Otis came on stage with BOOKA t E mg S,
Janice received the swampy Memphis sole communion with psychedelic eyes.
She watched him from below in her seat and watched
him from above hovery she felt the base below in
the highs up top, Physical Janis heard the music Otis's way,
(08:37):
and Hovering Janis heard the music her way outside of
her own body. She heard R and B run through
her San Francisco filter by way of Texas R and
B that had been soaked in a bottle of cold
duck with sixty eight doses of LSD, and that's what
she would deliver. She would perfect her own brand of
psychedelic R and B. But first she had to come
down from this trip, become whole at again, regain control.
(09:01):
While she had the chance create the musical persona, she
would lose control again. It was inevitable, and next time
it would be darker and a lot more dangerous than
an out of body acid true chocolate. George Hendricks grabbed
(09:43):
hold of the throttle with his right hand to give
his bike a goose. Harley opened right up the unmistakable
sound of metallic flatulence. George felt the bike vibrate between
his legs and the winnie of an iron horse, and
the horse backfired and the sound ricocheted through the years
of every unsuspecting bystander. George's long beard was swept back
(10:05):
by the wind when the bike quickly shot forward before
resuming its leisurely pace. The pins and buttons are fixed
to his sleeveless jean jacket rattled he was flanked on
either side by other Hell's Angels, other outlaws on bikes.
It was a sea of bikes, a symphony of engine
rows and backfires and sputtering. His helmet looked like something
(10:26):
from the shores of Normandy, like he was ready for battle,
flanked by this battalion of MC brothers. But he was
returning from a battle, not marching into it. This was
their victory march, a parade of solidarity. He'd been taken
hostage by the other side, the state sanctioned side, the cops.
He had been taking hostage with his brother Harry Henry Cott,
(10:48):
and spent a night in the other sides Chromie jail cell,
where they were leered at by a bunch of crew
cut wearing jocko fucos. But now they were free, and
now they'd celebrate as the dawn rose on the longest
stating summer of love. The hippies weren't the only ones
that the cops were after. In San Francisco, a sfp
(11:08):
D wasn't just busting up acid test parties. They were
on the prowl for anyone who looked, sounded, smelled, or
thought differently. They arrested Ron theland for reading the poetry
or Jacques Prevay on the steps of city Hall. And
they arrested Ama Jester Fleming for wearing an American flag,
and they arrested puppeteers in the middle of a show
on a street corner. They arrested Phillis Wilner for standing
(11:31):
up on the back of Harry Henry Cott's motorcycle. And
then they arrested Chocolate George when he came running to help.
It was December ninety six. Hate Street. Phillis was a
team runaway from Jamaica Queen's. She got the San Francisco
on the back of a motorcycle. The Diggers handed out
free food in the Panhandle. They called money an unnecessary evil.
(11:53):
They distributed flyers encouraging the citizens of San Francisco to
surrender their money, which would then be distributed all chair
and MoU like. And now the Diggers who were organizing
a parade that would ring in the new year, but
it also signaled the death of money in the rebirth
of the Hate. Phyllis arrived with a snow white cape
draped around her shoulders. She jumped on the back of
(12:14):
Harry Henry's Harley dug her left hand into his shoulder
and extended her right hand straight into the air. Free
she yield into the wind. As Harry Henry made his
Harley hum and his free the cops threw on their lights.
They pulled Harry Henry over. They said they were charging
him for allowing a person to stand up while driving
a motor vehicle. They didn't have time for the angel's
(12:36):
bullshit or the hippies bullshit either. Harry Henry was in trouble,
a bigger kind of troubled, and simply letting a girl
in a flowing white cape drive on the back of
his bike, he was in violation of his parole from
Sam Quentin. He'd go downtown, get real cozy with the
inside of a jail cell, trade a sparkling chrome for
some rusty steel chocolate. George saw a brother in peril,
(13:00):
he jumped into action. He swung his bike around and
went to Harry Henry's rescue. But even though like most angels,
he had a soft side chocolate, George went full crazy
bat ship biker on the pigs, and the pigs offered
him a seat next to his good pal on the
inside of the San Francisco Police Department headquarters. It was
the Diggers that bailed the boys out. The activist group
(13:21):
took a break from handing out free food in the Panhandle,
pass the hat for some of that evil US currency
and then put it to good use. Like the good
old merry Men. They were not Mary Prankster's. They bailed
out Chocolate George and Harry Henry from jail. Pete Nell,
president of the San Francisco chapter of the Hell's Angels,
said the motorcycle club would never forget the gesture, never
(13:43):
forget what the Diggers and the hippies did for them
that day. The Angels would show their appreciation the way
they knew how they'd throw a party, and that was
where Chocolate George and the rest of the Angels were
on their way to that day, New Year's Day seven,
as they rode their bikes outfhantly through the city the
Panhandle near the Golden Gate Park. They were free and
(14:05):
their incarcerated Iron Horse brothers had been set free, and
the ensuing party was heavy on bike's boos. Recently criminalized
the lists of substances in music. They called it the
New Year's Whale. That's w A I L A real
Wang Dang doul affair, and who better? The angels thopped
to provide the soundtrack to their freedom and the ongoing revolution.
(14:25):
Then big brother in the holding company, Who better Chocolate
Church had said, as he took a hulk size sip
for vodka spike chocolate milk to sing out loud for
the whole city to hear. Than jazz Chopolin the hell's
Angel's little sister, the one who accepted them for who
they were. Outsiders, rule breakers, law venders, pig provokers. She
was all of those things herself, a Port Arthur, Texas
(14:48):
girl who railed against Port Arthur, Texas things. She wasn't
a biker, She didn't worth leave this Denno jackets or
crank the throttle of a steel hog. But she rebelled
the way the angels rebelled, and she wanted to live
her life if when they lived there is wild, untethered
from the past. Out in the opening free the angels
were above the law. They were against the law. They
(15:10):
would make some questionable choices in their time. Their freedom
would run a little too rampant. Their choices would sometimes
result in destruction, even death, even the death of a fan,
a fan of the music at a speedway sixty miles
east of the Bay. But Janie always forgave. Janice stuck
by their side, a fellow outsider trying to get free.
In return, the Angels didn't just offer her banned gigs
(15:32):
poniful gigs for that matter. When the big wigs in
town like Bill Graham, threw her ass out on the street,
but the Angels offered her protection, Janie was looked after,
taking care of sheltered. It was like a family, really,
a family that was handmade by those who were part
of it. A motley crew of musicians and beat nis
and bikers and Big Brother took the ragtag family maximum
(15:53):
to the extreme and following the lead of the Grateful Dead,
moved into a cottage together outside Lagnitas and Maray In County.
It was tucked away in a redwood forest, almost an
hour outside of the city, and they read the place
from the ex wife of a forest ranger. They called
it Argentina because a pro Paine tank nearby bor graffiti
that read quote Carlos is alive and well in Argentina.
(16:17):
Whatever the hell that meant. Janis and Big Brother found
the kind of resistance from the locals and lagnitas that
they had previously found in Chicago and Nebraska. Up north,
there were just some more wayfaring, druggy dropouts. The farther
they went from San Francisco, the harder it was to
live that liberation lifestyle, and so they spent their time
making their family of freaks and outsiders bigger, hanging with
(16:39):
the Angels and with other bands who lived communally, like
The Dead and Quicksilver Messenger Service, who shacked up together
in a lima at the Dead's compound. Janice gravitated towards
Ron McKernan, the guy they called pig Pen, a nickname
given to him due to his funky approach to life
and sanitation. Pig Pen was the badass member of the
Grateful Dead, the one who started drinking round aage twelve
(17:00):
when he bought whiskey off of a bootlegger for a
buck fifty a gallon. Like Janie, he was knee deep
in whatever blues music he could get his hands on.
He watched old blues players in the clubs of Paula
I was a kid, and then picked up a harp
and a guitar and tried to do it himself. He
was the only member of the Dead that you can
mistakenly peg for a member of the Hell's Angels. The
(17:21):
devilish facial hair, the corduroy cowboy hat, the jean jacket
adorned with pins and buttons, and the long dark hair
kept it babe by a thick patterned headpand but beneath
the gruff exterior, pig Pen, it was a softy and
a sweetheart. Janice fell for Hart. She loved the gruff exterior,
(17:41):
she loved the sweet interior. She wanted the good and
the bad, the musician and the Hell's Angel. Pig Pen
was all of that. Big Brother and the Dead would
engage in another of their communal life. Hank Sessions and
Janis and pig Pen would make their way into the
corner of the room like there was no one else there,
and they passed the bottle of other comfort back and forth,
(18:02):
and then they'd sneak off to pig Pen's room. And
there was a much privacy in a communal home shared
by a large band with an even larger entourage. And
Bob were immortalized. They're not so secret romance and looks
like rain and from the Angels to Argentina. Janice was
expanding her world, branching out beyond the confines of the hate.
The family that she was cultivating was expanding too. And then,
(18:24):
on a weekend in June seven and the seaside town
of Monterey, a serpentine shot down coastal Route one from
the Bay in Janice's reach, went viral worldwide. Soon everyone
would see in janeee exact things that chocolate George and
pig pensaw. That's psychedelic R and B she gleaned from Otis.
Even those snobs from way over yonder in Los Angeles
(18:46):
who want to be a member of her, outside her party.
We'll be right back after this word were Mama Cass
Elliott wasn't a stranger to revelation, the moments that came
(19:07):
out of nowhere from a stage from the sky, the
moments that literally changed everything forever. She had one of
those moments in the summer somewhere in the Virgin Islands.
Cass was just standing there singing when the pipe fell
from the ceiling. It came loose some thin metal piece
(19:28):
of plumbing and went straight down direct hit. Cass was
the fourth and newest member of the Mammas and the
papas a vocal group built from the ashes of the
new Journeyman and the mugwumps. Real folk die are types.
She decamped to a little slice of Paradise with her
bandmates John and Michelle Phillips and Denny Doherty to work
(19:48):
out their harmonies, give the new songs a spin, get
their ship together before they left the East Coast for California.
And they wanted to shed their old folk music skin,
go electric, jump on Ellen's one eighty train while seats
were still available, and be a part of history. John
had just the song. It was a call and response cast.
(20:09):
As parts echoed the main lyric, it sounded prophetic, like
the song itself was a crystal ball. It wasn't just
about California. It was about a new day, a new sound,
a new coast and new reality. And the forceome delivered
the refrain and chilling minor key harmonies, who was downright
spooky in its beauty cast felt a chill run up
her back as their voices locked in. She knew she
(20:31):
had the strongest voice in the group, and despite John's reservations,
she knew that the real reason that John gave her
so much shit about her weight and her oversized personality
was really just because he was jealous of her voice.
He was scared of her voice. So she let it
ring out loud and clear during the song's final repeated line,
to impress John, but also to scare him some more.
(20:53):
And then the pipe came down on her head. They
were rehearsing in a club which was under renovation. I'll
plumber in the rafters above and knocked a piece of
piping blues. It fell hard and fast as soon as
it landed on her head, Cast at the floor song
over Castover. She was down, she was out. But when
she woke up in the hospital, she discovered that she
(21:14):
had suffered a concussion. But she discovered something else too.
Her voice. It went higher, suddenly, her range was increased
by a few notes. The very thing that it knocked
her to the ground had in fact made her stronger.
Cast His life was like that, full of happy accidents.
She learned to cultivate those revelatory moments. She made a
(21:34):
place for them to happen, opened her door and let
them in her house in the Laurel Canyon neighborhood of
Los Angeles. Became a regular hangout for the droves of
musicians who were making the mountainous terrain their own creative sandpit.
Joni Mitchell, David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Mickey Dolan's, Eric Clapton.
They came from all over, filled ash trays, past bottles,
pasted joints, swam in the pool, worked out new songs.
(21:57):
Laurel Canyon was an entire culture built around creating those moments.
And then at the Monterey International Pop Festival in Monterey,
California in June, Cass had another moment. It wasn't a
pipe from a ceiling, but it knocked her out just
the same. It was Janice Job. Cass's jaw dropped when
(22:18):
Janie and Big Brother took the stage and squeezed the
blues out of Big Mama Thornton's ball and Chain. It
wasn't just Big Brother's raw treatment of the blues or
the way their brand of R and B was drenched
in Bay Areas psych It was Janice. She was electrified,
she was possessed. She shouted Hollard, stopped her heel down
on the stage, let her throat just ripped apart with
(22:38):
anguish and pain, and the band unspoiled behind her, the
guitars flowing like unruly hippy hair, and then without notice,
the whole stage tightened up, got quiet real quick. Janie's
voice was no longer ravaged, it was tame and intimate,
and then the unraveling happened again. Janie's body was taken over.
(22:58):
She shook, she got them like she was using it
to stabilize yourself, and stuttered loudly, turning the stutter into
a hook, turning it into a baby. She had taken
Otis writing his own moves, the dynamics of his performance,
and made them her own. She was trying to out
Otis Otis who just happened to be one of the
more than thirty performers at the three day festival that
weekend in June, and cast his jaw didn't leave the ground.
(23:20):
The song ended, and she was still in shock. She
had witnessed something, one of those moments the whole audience
was shook. Then it was a moment that was nearly
lost to history. The Monterey International Pop Festival is best
known as the place where Americans were first introduced to
the Jimi Hendrix experience. The Who and Ravi Shankar but
(23:44):
it was also the first time that artists like Janison
Otis became household names. Organizers hired Da Penna Baker, the
documentary filmmaker behind the Dylan flick Don't Look Back, to
make a movie of the Weekend. Janis and Big Brother
were there as part of the San Francisco contingent, which
included the Dead and Jefferson Airplane, but the Los Angeles
(24:06):
contingent ran the show. John Phillips helped organize Monterey Pop
from his office in l A. L A was another
galaxy as far as San Franciscans were concerned. Buffalo Springfield,
the Doors loved. They were all sunset strip bands. They
said they were hippies, but they had that neon city glow.
The San Francisco contingent it was so weary of the
(24:27):
l A scensters that they refused to allow Penna Baker's
crew to film them in Monterey Pop. Penna Baker had
cred Monterey Pop would get the raw, unfiltered pen of
Baker treatment. That no one had beef with Penna Baker.
It was the Los Angelenos, a shifty eyed motherfucker's running
the show. They weren't hippies. They were rich hippies. They
were the establishment now, but they were still playing the
(24:48):
part of the anti establishment to the San Franciscans. John
Phillips and his l A crew were fast talk or
city slickers, hucksters. They weren't going to let themselves get
greased by the fucking mamas and the papas. Julius Carpin
said no. He told d. A. Pennebaker to shut the
cameras off. He said that Janice was off limits. He
wouldn't sign the release for him unless John Phillips wanted
(25:09):
to cough up some dough or give the band creative
control over the footage. He said that he'd sue if
they didn't do as he asked, or maybe he'd break
all the fucking cameras altogether. Maybe he'd do both. Julius
was ex Mary Prankster former Ken Kesey. Crony Big Brother
hired him in early sixty seven as their new manager,
a long time coming replacement for Chet Helms. Inspired by
(25:30):
the Pranksters and their further bus, they got a nineteen
fifty two Cadillac Hurst to haul their gear. Julius made
sure the band had wheels a few roadies to throw
equipment around, expertly rolled joints to toke. But at Monterey,
Janice wasn't smoking with Julius was smoking. When she found
out that the cameras weren't rolling during Big Brother's performance,
she was bullshit. She got in Julius's face and asked
(25:53):
what the fucking problem was, and Julius wouldn't budge. The
festival's promoters, John Phillips and his l A cronies, made
nearly a half a million dollar deal with the filmmakers.
Big Brother wasn't seeing one set. It was a non
starter for Julius. John Phillips offered Big Brother a second
slot on Sunday, the final night of the festival, if
they would agree to be filmed. Janice ran into Albert Grossman,
(26:15):
Bob Dylan's manager, and asked for his advice. The band
was nervous. Janice talking to Grossman reminded them of Janice
talking to the Lectura records that were terrified that Janice
would big time them. But all she wanted was for
Grossman to tell Julius to funk off. Instead, Grossman gave
her the confidence to tell Julius herself. She got in
(26:36):
Julius's face again, threatened his employment, told him she would
fire his ass right there and then if he didn't
agree to John Phillips's offer. Julius was rattled. Janice was
making a scene. Julius relented, He allowed it, and Big
Brother played a second set on Sunday night, and from
that set, Ball and Chaine became a starmaking show stopper
in Penna Baker's film. But the damage had been done.
(26:59):
Tensions who were once again high in the Big Brother camp.
The tension between Janie and Julius was palpable, and now
it was starting to affect the band as a whole.
Everyone was nervous, suspicious, paranoid, unhappy. It was an uneasy
feeling that was about to ripple through San Francisco, despite
its idyllic summer of love, and hit Janice where it
(27:20):
hurt Auguste. Word traveled fast, and they hate store front
(27:50):
the store front from the doorway of the Psychedelic Shop
to the wild west of the Panhandle where the diggers
handed out food. From the corner of the film War
to the middle of the Golden Gate Park. There's a
beetle and they hate no ship. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts
club band was still brand new, a British take on
the psychedelic sounds coming from America. It was a perfect
(28:11):
compliment to the now official Summer of Love, as she
had Helms and others had crowned the Summer of nineteen
sixty seven in a press conference in May, and now
one of its authors, the man behind the transcendental Within
You Without You, was just taking a leisurely stroll through
the streets of San Francisco. People on the street made
eye contact and then made their voice heard that's George Harrison.
(28:33):
There was no denying it. It was the quiet beatle
in the flesh. His mob top gone tropo Lonely Hearts mustache.
Below even more breathtaking was Patty Boyd, George's wife, who
walked by his side. A group of locals assembled as
they walked. They wanted autographs, hugs, advice, they wanted to
hear a song, and the group of people became large
enough that at some point it crossed over to a mob.
(28:55):
And then the mob became large enough that it could
no longer move down the street as one, so it
had to stop, and then it began to close in
on George. George was stuck in the middle, watching eyes
expand and contract and bug out in his general direction.
Hands reached out to touch him, to glean some sort
of wisdom through physical contact, to hand him a book,
pass on some insects, give him a joint or a dose.
(29:18):
He was weary of it all, and the dose was
the dropouts, the hippies. The whole scene was curdling right
before his eyes. The kids started to grab form lunge
at him. Hands holding out books and joints and doses
became claus and swung and missed. Voices that made requests
for songs became accusatory insults, and he wouldn't swallow their
particular pill. This self medicated land of life affirming, creative liberation,
(29:40):
one that George and the boys that admired from Afar
and felt an emotional and creative connection with, crumbled all
around him. All that was left was a bunch of
needy kids, stoned and baked and fried, grasping and groaning
like zombies. It was all too much. George needed to escape.
He needed to find a way out before they turned
on him. He feared whatever was happening in the hate
(30:01):
had already happened, and that he was too late. That
same summer, the Summer of Love, Janis Joplin's parents, Seth
and Dorothy Joplin, flew from Texas to San Francisco to
visit their daughter. They wanted to see where she lived,
who she was hanging out with, the band she was
playing with, and they were far from thrilled. The life
(30:23):
she was leading was too free to unstructured. Like George Harrison,
they too feared that they had arrived in San Francisco
too late. For different reasons. They disapproved of Janice's cheap apartment,
the pictures on her wall. Every picture was the same
picture won the photographer Bob Siderman had taken of her
that year. In it, she wore only beads, most of
(30:44):
which covered her breasts. Her hands were strategically placed directly
below her waist. The shot didn't bother. She loved it.
It empowered her. In fact, she had been the one
to suggested Bob that she not wear any clothes. She
didn't tell her parents that fact. Seeing the naked picture
of their daughter was shocking enough. Seth turned his head
(31:05):
while Dorothy put her hands over her eyes of Janice's
fourteen year old brother, Michael, who had joined them on
the trip along with Janice's eighteen year old sister Laura.
Sensing the disapproval in the apartment room, Janice took them
all to the avalon, where she asked the guys and
Moby Grape if big brother could slip in during their
set to play a few tunes for her folks. Laura
(31:25):
and Michael were in awe of their big sister on
stage with that larger than life voice giving directions to
an entirely male band. She was their sister, but in
that moment she was also their idol. Seth and Dorothy
weren't as impressed. Janice could tell. It was the same
moment with her parents, the one where she tried to
impress them, tried to please them, try to show them
(31:47):
that she was free now she was going to be
just fine. But he didn't believe her, and the Joplins
cut out for Texas, and Janice was left feeling dejected.
She had failed them again, just like the last time
and the time for she was always failing them, and
so she dealt with the sting of rejection the way
she had in the past, her past haunted her. Her
(32:08):
past was always there, waiting until she lost control one
more time, and she turned herself into one of those
San Francisco zombies. If only for a day or a night,
or a week or a month, she'd numb herself with
what she could get her hands on. The darker the better,
the more cavern is dwelling, the high was the better.
And after all, it was summertime and the living was
supposed to be easy. So and she'd find that cavern
(32:30):
in her mind and she'd get there straight with a
shot of junk that was darker and harder than any
of the petrol tainted stp acid that was going around.
She would think about her parents leaving San Francisco for
Port Arthur, and then she started to nod off as
she drifted into a thick, gooey heroin I. She couldn't
help but think about the last time she was a
(32:50):
disappointment to her parents, a time when she first came
to San Francisco discovered that she couldn't handle it, couldn't hang.
That time she liberated herself all on that time she
ran back to Port Arthur, pounds soaking, wet, strong, out
on meth wondering what the hell she was gonna do
with her life, wondering if she would ever be free.
(33:13):
I'm Jake Brennan, and this is the twenty seven Club,
all right. This episode of The twenty seven Club is
brought to you by disgrace Land, the award winning music
and true crime podcast that I also host. Disgrace Land
(33:36):
is available only on the free Amazon Music app. To
hear tons of insane stories about your favorite musicians getting
away with murder and behaving very badly. Nirvana, Prince, Jerry
Lee Lewis, The Grateful Dead, the Rolling Stones, Cardi Bate,
and many many more. Go to Amazon dot com slash
disgrace Land, or if you have an Echo device, just
say hey Alexa play the Disgraceland podcast. The seven Club
(33:58):
is hosted and co written I Meet Jake Brennan. Zeth
Wandi is the lead writer and co producer. Not voting
mixes the show. Additional music and score elements by Ryan
Spraaker and Henry Lenetta. The twenty seven Club is produced
by myself for Double Elvis and partnership with iHeart Radio.
Sources for this episode are available at double Elvis dot com.
On the twenty seven Club series page. Our previous seasons
(34:21):
on Jimmy Hendricks and Jim Morrison are available for you
to binge right now wherever you get your podcasts, and
if you'd like you here, please be sure to find
and follow the twenty seven Club on the I Heart
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hashtag subscribe to twenty seven Club on social media. Will
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Double Elvis Instagram page. That's at Double Elvis. Give that
a fall. So get out there and spread the word
of a twenty seven Club and you can talk to
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pot Rock Corolla. What's up for your is
Host
Jake Brennan
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