Bobby Petersen
Paul Bick
Phil G
Walter Karmazyn wrote in message <85u4kg$5lj$1...@samba.rahul.net>...
>It was around this time in 1987 that Robert M Petersen was felled by a
>fatal stroke while waiting for a flight back to his native Oregon at the
San
>Francisco Airport after coming down for NYE shows in Oakland. Petersen
>was a longtime member of GD family and responsible for a handful of
>lyrics to Dead tunes: New Potato Caboose, UBC and Pride of Cucamonga.
>
<remainder of fine post snipped>
first off, thank you walter. i, for one, really appreciate it.
i always thought that "believe it or not" was written as a tribute to
petersen. any thoughts on that? i kept meaning to ask hunter when he still
answered e-mail. just never got around to it...
thank you again.
PG
Walter Karmazyn
fatal stroke while waiting for a flight back to his native Oregon at the San
Francisco Airport after coming down for NYE shows in Oakland. Petersen
was a longtime member of GD family and responsible for a handful of
lyrics to Dead tunes: New Potato Caboose, UBC and Pride of Cucamonga.
"Pride" is written in the first person and folks who had the good fortune of
meeting this warm ,creative person or have read any of his life history can
(imho) rightly say they've discovered the true identity of the Pride of
Cucamonga.
Petersen was Born in Klamath Falls Oregon in 1936. In the 50's, he found
his way to the Bay Area, where he attended San Mateo College. Here he
became friends with Phil back in 1960. He Played jazz saxophone,
(probably why my favorite UBC is P&F 8/8/ 98 with Ellis on Sax..I always
wondered what it would sound like if Bobby had picked up his sax and
joined the guys in a live rendition of this number) He hopped the freights
and traveled up and down the coast from Vancouver to Guadalajara and
was a part of the San Francisco Beat scene of the 50's, one of those like
his sometimes companion Neal Cassady, who bridged that scene to the
rock era of the 60's.
Petersen spent time in the State Pen, time in the gutter, time on top of the
mountain, time in the clouds. His closest friends in the band I would
imagine would be Phil and Pigpen. If my memory serves me well, it was
with Petersen that Phil smoked his first joint. He and Pig shared a love for
the bottle and, like with Pig, it was that love that led to his premature
demise.
More than a writer of songs, Bobby was a poet. There are 2 books of his
poetry out there, Far Away Radios and Alleys of the Heart. Far Away
was a small run, 2 printings in 1980 and 84, published by Ice Nine
Publishing. Alleys was released after his death in 1988 with help from
amongst others, Phil, Hunter and Mountain Girl. Hunter wrote the forward
to this volume and said in part:
This book contains all manner of living things disguised as words, crafted
by a master with seemless artistry, speaking of things that matter to the
soul.......... This is not a light poet you hold in your hands. His aim is true.
He will take you somewhat deeper than is comfortable, if you enter his
lines rather than flipping through them. This is what a poet should do. It is
all he can do......
As some of you know, I post a little "tribute" to Bobby every January
around the anniversary of his passing, hoping to shed a little light in our
community about just who this guy was, to make him more than just a
name attached to a few songs. Also to help deplete the stockpile of Alleys
sitting over at dead.net (where they can be purchased;-) ) and get them
out into the Deadhead community where they can be passed around,
enjoyed and appreciated. I always end with some of Bobby's verse and
this year is no exception.
This is one of Bobby's earliest, circa 1963.
Blue Petre
It matters
not here what
a man has
been.
For Poetry
will come of it
all the
same.
With the
first slow cry
of birds at
dawn,
the first grey light that
the streaks the
window
: these signs
of having
been alone too
long,
of having
known the barren
speech
of he for
whom the lines
of life are
sealed already.
We learn
how pain will
wrinkle the heart,
and cling
to the unknown
things, the promise
of them
more great
by far than death.
Discovering in
the end
that to live
requires only to love.
For the Grateful Dead
it gets lonely
in the high places
& lonelier when
you finally get
to town
all that
goodness you
done stored up
be gone
in about 15 minutes
so you gotta go
through all that
sickness
& all that joy just
like pig did
wonderin
what the fuck
am I doin' here & why?
when you damn well know
it's because we all love
each other
Fairfax, Ca., May 29, 1981
Fern Rock is a long mixture of prose and poetry, ending @ a Winterland
show. Too long for me to want to type in full, here's a bit.
so spent
3 days in a howling
rain forest
to clear out
the mind
and attend
the creature comforts
then 300 miles
south again
this time alone
to the city
of saint francis
belted with light
& raging
waters....
To WINTERLAND
& the grateful dead
they of visionary song
plumbing the deepest channels
to blur for a while
what no art can
hide
& perform
what these high hungry
masses
so desperately
need-
to touch
in a continuum of
BREASTS & HAND & EYES
locked together
in the dance
all openings
filled
with sound
garcia
bending the frames of
reality
"more than somewhat"
(piano cascade contrabass innuendo)
reach into that system
pulling out dream after dream
all bodies transformed
into a single
amalgam
experiencing constant
orgasm
!
There is so much good Petersen, I'm tempted to post some more.
(will if arm is twisted) . However, if any of you walk away from here with a
slightly better picture of the person behind the lyrics or a desire to
experience more of his verse, then I've accomplished my mission.
One poem of Bobby's was written for Pigpen, shortly after his death.
One of my favorites, look for me to post it around March 8th.
W
The voice of Robert M. Petersen will endure, for those with ears to hear,
crackling through the static of our generation like the sound of a far away
radio...........Robert Hunter, March, 1988
--
Timothy Lynch
arm to encourage you posting more Petersen poetry and/or stories.
BTW, rmgd's own xian wrote an *excellent* short paper on Bobby
Petersen for last year's SW Regional Convention of the Popular
Culture Association. xian, is that paper available anywhere?
If not, it ought to be: a true Grateful Dead story if ever heard
one....
they say love your brother but you will catch it if you try,
Tim
tly...@socrates.berkeley.edu
"Since I came down from Oregon there's a lesson or two I've
learned...." Bobby Petersen
Walter Karmazyn
>i always thought that "believe it or not" was written as a tribute to
>petersen. any thoughts on that? i kept meaning to ask hunter when he still
>answered e-mail. just never got around to it...
Phil, I tried to email you but it bounced. drop me a line. Or send me the
lyrics, I'm not that familiar with them and won't try to make an educated
guess without first giving them a lookover. To the best of my knowledge,
no. Maybe someone else out here knows? Anyway as my arm has been
"twisted", I'll post some more of Bobby's stuff tomorrow. Too late to do a
lot of typing ......snore.......
W
--
John Bray
JB
Walter Karmazyn
>twist, twist and twist
San Franicso Blues (for jack kerouac)
...pale, blond
chrome, saffron, turquoise
high glow of frisco
blue & greasy
raw, lusty
perfumes of lena's bar-b-q
madcara lithographs
float in smoke
fillmore, tenderloin
embarcadero
flags, foghorns
brass bells & ship-whistles
(that sign i saw
shattuck avenue in oakland
WE WILL WELD ANYTHING
BUT A BROKEN
HEART
& that scene on 6th & howard
that broke mine:
drunken paraplegic
passed out in his wheelchair
in a TOW-AWAY
ZONE
!
herion bop of a yeardbird
brew blowing sleepy
at the IT CLUB
where hungry jack
whiled the railroad afternoon
with petri & jumpin' george
a parking lot now
like spicer said
death ain't final
only parking lots...)
thus i deliver this poem
from my heart
& from each jug
pour a little out
on the ground
for you and neal
& sing a high sweet blues
for this wild perfidious city
you loved so much
commonly known as winter
but the spanish boys call her
azul
--
Walter Karmazyn
> herion bop of a yeardbird
that's a yardbird.
W
--
Walter Karmazyn
>Thank you Walter! And if I may, this is a (gentle) twist of the
>arm to encourage you posting more Petersen poetry and/or stories.
Rain Dance On Highyway 50 (for laird grant)
radiator trouble
at emigrant gap
our 1st day
out of frisco
drinking beer &
apple juice laced with acid
the nevada of
night
with 1 headlight,
magic jack-rabbits
& the paiutes of austin
where we slept.
next morning
4th of july at ely
whole town draped with
Old Gory
& AMERICAN OPINION
so we drove on
thru
south of the salt flats
& over the utah line
we saw this
great stormcloud
shaped like a war eagle
50 miles wide
maybe 100 long
preceeded by 7 dust-devils
cooling and sheltering
from the wreck
of sun all day
& the next into
colorado
thru green river
night-time of fireworks
delta, red earth
the black canyon of
gunnison
COLD BEER
& country fair
rodeos,
pick-up trucks,
the smell of indian
ponies
sign for
BLUE MESA RESERVOIR
& lakes
lupine
in the rain at 11,000
over the divide
and south again
thru jack dempsey's
hometown
& alamosa, into
new mexico
the shadow of the storm eagle
stayed with us
& when we got to
new buffalo
they said it hadn't
rained in a month or more
& we
said
yes,
grandfather
--
Cary Wolfson
character in Wharf Rat -- at some friends' house in Marin and we gave
him a ride to one of the 6-85 Greek shows.
But here's a weird twist: Some time not long after Jerry died I got a
call from someone who was referred to me because I knew something about
the Grateful Dead. This woman had a friend who was a channeler (no, not
Wendy Weir) and she had started channeling Jerry. Neither of them was
much familiar with the Dead and she said that the name Bobby Peterson
kept coming up and they wondered who he was. Don't know how much stock I
put in channeling, but this gave me pause.
--
Cary Wolfson
Publisher
BLUES ACCESS Magazine
Online at: http://www.bluesaccess.com
"Nothin' but the best and later for the garbage." -- John Lee Hooker
Walter Karmazyn
>Thanks, Walter. I very briefly met Bobby -- he reminded me of the
>character in Wharf Rat -- at some friends' house in Marin and we gave
>him a ride to one of the 6-85 Greek shows.
If I remember rightly, there was a handout at those shows (20th
anniversay) that contained part of one of his poems. Would you be suprised
you're not the first person I've come across to see the Wharf Rat in him?
>But here's a weird twist: Some time not long after Jerry died I got a
>call from someone who was referred to me because I knew something about
>the Grateful Dead. This woman had a friend who was a channeler (no, not
>Wendy Weir) and she had started channeling Jerry. Neither of them was
>much familiar with the Dead and she said that the name Bobby Peterson
>kept coming up and they wondered who he was. Don't know how much stock I
>put in channeling, but this gave me pause.
I would imagine the moment he stepped out of his body, Garcia found
himself standing at the swung-open door of an old hippie bus, guy
in a referee shirt at the wheel, foot depressing clutch, one hand on the
shift running through the gears, doing short flips with a hammer with the
other,anxious to get under way. Familiar faces seen through the windows,
Pig and Bobby hanging on the steps saying something like "Get a moveon
Garcia, we can't keep this guy in neutral forever!";-)
Interesting story though, thanks for sharing. I don't know how much stock
I put in channeling either.
W
The bus came by and I got on
that's when it all began
there was.....
--
Walter Karmazyn
>SHORT FRANTIC LETTER TO THE MUSE
> que paso sweet thing?
> sitting here with skin
> the skin drawn over
I need a proof reader;-) for accuracy, strike skin in line 2
Sorry about that
W
--
Walter Karmazyn
>i always thought that "believe it or not" was written as a tribute to
>petersen. any thoughts on that? i kept meaning to ask hunter when he still
>answered e-mail. just never got around to it...
Phil, thanks for the lyrics. You aren't the only one who thought of
"believe it or not", I got a private email from someone who after my
lines that Petersen did time in the state pen, time in the gutter, time on
top of the mountain, time in the clouds asked
time in the lockup, time in the street,time on the upswing time in defeat?
Certainly sounds like Petersen. Does that make
"bion" about Bobby? I don't know. I can think of people i know the above
lines and the rest of the song can fit, some of them still alive, I'm sure
Hunter does too. In my heart, I would like to think so, the man was
beyond doubt worthy of a song and much more. Maybe one day we'll find out.
>thank you again.
You're welcome. Like "Alleys of the Heart", these posts are a labor of
love by one of those who feel that the works of RMP shouldn't go to the
grave with him. He was certainly one of the most colorful characters on
the Dead's inner scene, there from the beginning. a bit of knowledge of
his life and times imho can help one better appreciate his writings, Dead
song or poetry. I can only hope I've wet a few appetites to investigate
what he had to say further. As I mentioned Alleys can be purchased @
dead.net, I don't know the whole url to get there, I'm a shell only
person. If anyone has that problem too, email me, I'll help you get a
copy. Barring any followups worth responding to, I'll end with a poem
that came to mind after reading BION.
SHORT FRANTIC LETTER TO THE MUSE
que paso sweet thing?
sitting here with skin
the skin drawn over
my eyeballs no weed
a hallow jug
cosmic hangover
& a brown thumb
wondering
where the hell
you are.
next winter's
dead leaves
already rattle
dryly down
the alleys of
my heart.
in your absence
from this here room
it is always the rainy
season.
do you conitnue
to shine me
because these lines
been comin'
such a long time?
without your benign
frame
on the premises
poetry sits
like a dead scorpion
in my brain.
or because
i got borracho
acting bad
& nasty
last night in nave's?
only holding
a hopeful party
in your honor.
and you, you never
came.
the crows have flown.
a shit-storm approaches.
my bed echos like
a vast empty
stadium.
if you don't
fill my doorway
pretty damn soon, baby
i'm gonna brighten
yours,
this love
bubbling in my veins
like a springtime
river.
--
xian
claim to have done time in jail, as do characters in some of their
cover tunes ("...cold, iron bed," "i turned 21 in prison").
believe it or not seems like a love song in a tin pan alley vein.
--xian
p.s.: i'm working on the lyrics to 'revolutionary hamstrung blues'
'And of all the things I don't want to do, spending time in jail
is one of those things I least want to do." --J. G'arcie
In article <85ucs1$765$1...@samba.rahul.net>,
Walter Karmazyn <wal...@rahul.net> wrote:
>In <85u6hq$enp$1...@glisan.hevanet.com> "Phil G" <pg...@ahevanet.com> writes:
>
>
>>i always thought that "believe it or not" was written as a tribute to
>>petersen. any thoughts on that? i kept meaning to ask hunter when he still
>>answered e-mail. just never got around to it...
>
>
>Phil, I tried to email you but it bounced. drop me a line. Or send me the
>lyrics, I'm not that familiar with them and won't try to make an educated
>guess without first giving them a lookover. To the best of my knowledge,
>no. Maybe someone else out here knows? Anyway as my arm has been
>"twisted", I'll post some more of Bobby's stuff tomorrow. Too late to do a
>lot of typing ......snore.......
>
>W
>--
>
--
.
xian =%7o http://ezone.org/xian/
ezone.org http://ezone.org/
open publish http://opublish.com/
waterside http://www.waterside.com/
xian
Timothy Lynch <tly...@socrates.berkeley.edu> wrote:
>Thank you Walter! And if I may, this is a (gentle) twist of the
>arm to encourage you posting more Petersen poetry and/or stories.
>
>Petersen for last year's SW Regional Convention of the Popular
>Culture Association.
aw, shucks
xian, is that paper available anywhere?
>If not, it ought to be: a true Grateful Dead story if ever heard
>one....
ironically, my talk was the only one not recorded and I still haven't
sent Rob (the subconference organizer) my paper as I have about 3
facts to check, a lot of footnotes to key in, and a fervent desire
to talk to Phil Lesh about Bobby and clarify a few things perhaps
he alone still knows.
i expect the final version of the paper ("And I Done Some Time")
will see the light of day in book or journal, and then eventually
web form.
Meanwhile, I dug up the letter to the court Bobby wrote in his
own defense when he was busted for, among other things, possession
in 1966. It's an eloquent defense of the spiritual basis for pot
smoking. I'm writing a little monograph to introduce it and I
hope someone will read it for me at the Albuquerque conference
this year, assuming I finish in time.
--xian
out on the mountain it'll drive you insane
listening to the winds howl
--robert mclane petersen
>
>they say love your brother but you will catch it if you try,
> Tim
> tly...@socrates.berkeley.edu
>"Since I came down from Oregon there's a lesson or two I've
>learned...." Bobby Petersen
>
Phil G
xian <xi...@netcom.com> wrote in message
news:867k24$bri$1...@nntp1.atl.mindspring.net...
> is it the "did time in the lockup" line? other hunter song narrators
> claim to have done time in jail, as do characters in some of their
> cover tunes ("...cold, iron bed," "i turned 21 in prison").
>
> believe it or not seems like a love song in a tin pan alley vein.
>
> --xian
not just that, xian. it's the entire tenor of the song. but mostly, it's the
poem "for the grateful dead" when he talks about "how much we love each
other" (paraphrasal) coupled with some other choice lyrics. the first time i
heard it i thought of petersen...
PG
Matt Null
...I turned 21 in prison...
Merle Haggard, not Robert Hunter
Walter Karmazyn
>is it the "did time in the lockup" line? other hunter song narrators
>claim to have done time in jail, as do characters in some of their
>cover tunes ("...cold, iron bed," "i turned 21 in prison").
>believe it or not seems like a love song in a tin pan alley vein.
I said earlier that I would like to think so, but I don't know. I'm sure
Hunter, like myself and many of us, knows more than one person the above
lines could fit. I think it's sorta like if you think that song is about
Petersen, then it is or, if if its a love song in the tin pan alley vein
as you think, then it is. *If* Bobby was in Hunter's thoughts when it was
written, I picture the object of devotion to be the muse, whom BP
addresses in a couple of his poems, including the one I posted which imho
seems similiar to BION. Sort of a personal tribute from one poet to a
fallen comrade in verse. It seems to me the title Alleys of the Heart
(volume of poetry released after its death) May've come from this poem,
where Petersen writes "next winter's dead leaves already rattle down the
alleys of my heart". All idle speculation on my part.
W
--
xian
In article <3888...@pluto.ovis.net>, Matt Null <mn...@ovis.net> wrote:
>
> ...I turned 21 in prison...
>
>Merle Haggard, not Robert Hunter
>
>
Matt Null
ahh...now i see...