have you ever met any famous hipster?

It was on one of my visits down to So Cali, I was staying at my parents home. Daddy was sitting there in one of the patio chairs and I was giving him a back and shoulder massage.

We were talking about TM, as one of the dudes that my parents had taken in was interested in and I was kinda into it my self. I always vauled my father's opinion. He was the sort of person one could talk freely with about most any subject.

I told him that I was thinking about going to see what it was all about. There was a class happening in LA tonight and I needed to borrow his car to go. He agreed to let me use his car and we discussed religion and philosophies, as we often did.

Later that evening I got ready to drive the car up to LA to go to my very first Transendental Meditation class. I had smoked a bowl of blonde Lebonese Hash and my head was right to soak in all the vibes of enlightenment.

When I got to the building the class was being held in, I parked the car and went inside. There was Eastern Indian music piped in everywhere and was very serene.

I checked in at the front desk and took a seat in the waiting area. I scanned the room and notised only one other person in the room, a dude wearing shades. I sat down a few seats from the dude that was wearing shades. I picked up a magazine and smiled a friendly smile at him as I sat down.

I was full of nervous energy from the antisapation of finding out lifes secrets. When all of a sudden a light went on in my head and I looked at the dude in the shades again and to my astonishment the dude sitting not five feet from me was none other than George Harrison. He was wearing a blue paisley naru jacket and black cordaroy jeans with of course the famous black Beatle Boots. He was Beautiful.

My mouth must have gaped open and my eyes surely were as big as saucers bc George lifted his shades and gave me a wink. I was panic stricken. Frozen in that moment in time and space. The only sound I could hear was my own heart pounding out of my chest.

The magazine that I was holding slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a slap. The sound snapped me back to reality and I slowly became aware that George's mouth was moving as he bent and picked up the mag I had let slip onto the floor.

I missed the first part of what George was saying, but I caught up as the roaring in my head stoped and the blood began to to flow to my brain again.

George was looking at me curiously while he asked me if I had been coming here long.
I stammered as I tried to respond to his question. I must have sounded like an idiot to him. I managed to tell him that this was my first time here and that I was very excited and ended with " Your George Harrison"

He chuckled and said in a thick British accent " I know, and who might you be ".
I told him my name and that I had just come down from the Haight and decided to get my Mantra.

George nodded and said that he had been to Haight Street and it was "Groovvy". The conversation turned to Marharisi and his work to bring enlightment to the western world. He told me that he had been studing under Marharishi for a couple of years and he was really into it. He was telling me that he Meditated three times a day for thirty minutes everyday.
I was hanging on to his every word, branding his face into my memory banks. I felt like I was in another world where just me and George exsisted with Ravi Shankar playing his Sitra in the background intisingly.

The majick moment was broken when a woman came in and told George that they were ready for him. George stood up and turned to me and said what a pleasent person I was and that he was glad to have met me and took my hand and squeezed it softly. I thanked George and told him that I would never forget meeting him and that he had been an insperation to me. Our eyes locked and I stood up and we embraced. OMG!!.

I stood there as George dissapeared through a doorway. I was trembling all over. I glanced around the room and saw the receptionest grinning at me and I sat back down and fiddled with some pamplets that were laying on the table trying to disguise my nervousness.

About twenty minutes later the same lady came out and called me back into a room. She said some one would be with me in a few minutes and just to relax untill they came.

I sat there thinking about George and our conversation. I was thrilled to the bone. I felt like I was walking on air. I was dreaming of how my name would look as Mrs. George Harrison and where we would live in England and what we were going to name our children, when a dude in a black suit came through the door and burst my bubble.

The dude in the black suit was a pleasent sort. He was tall with dark hair and a bright warm smile. He introduced himself as Martin. I shook his hand and told him my name was Mary and we proceeded.

I was sworn to secracy so I can't tell you what happened or how I recived my Mantra.

But I can tell you that meeting George Harrison is one of the most consciousness changing events in my life, so far. I will never forget the feelings I had sitting there discussing world events with George... wow..

sh

 

I heard you were working on a book about this stuff, SH. Is that true? Everyone would like to read all of these accounts.

.

 

The media in the U.S. seemed fairly quiet when Harrison died. I thought he would have gotten more coverage.

.

 

I've met David Lee Roth, Edward Van Halen, Ray Charles (very cool), Sandra Day O'Connor, Warren Burger, Michael Douglas, Andy Garcia, Alice Cooper, James Woods, Teri Hatcher, Heather Locklear (bitch), Richie Sambora (asshole pretending to be a nice guy), Kenny G (also an asshole - doesn't even pretend to be a nice guy), Martin Sheen (very cool), Nancy O'Dell (very nice and even more beautiful in person than on screen) - and lots more. Can't remember them all off hand.

 

I met Fishmans brother, and my sister has met everyone in phish. I met the guys of moe. too

 

I've met Paul Kanter, he's such a cool guy I've also met Marty Balin as well
another great guy to have a chat with

 

shameless_heifer, that was a magnificent story! I read it over and over. Thanks for sharing.

 

I went to a lecture by Tim Leary. He was doing something about Virtual Reality and Cyberspace and whatnot, and so I figured hey, I'm into high tech and semiotics why not.

What a waste of time.

The usual 60s burnout crap - "And churches are really areas that are for mind control - using all the senses in their hypnosis - THOU ART SHEEP. BAAAAA."

Most of the audience were well into their 50s and 60s, and you could tell they'd dug out the love beads and had tried to find some weed before the lecture.

I sat through a horrible butchering of McLuhan before hoping to be one of four people in attendance to try out the Sense-8 rig he came in with. I was furiously taking notes as to who/what/where Sense-8 and VPL and other tech companies were using and coming from and going to - he was blathering on about consciousness etc.

At the break I ran into him,where he was signing autographs etc. and asked him a technical point about Marshall McLuhan. He answered wrong, gruffly. I said "wow, man, you've totally misunderstood McLuhan" to which he said "I used to party with Marshall McLuhan" to which I said "get around to reading his book - specifically this sentence here" to which I pointed out the relevant sentence defining a certain term OPPOSITE to his use of it in his lecture. He scowled at me but signed something anyway asking why I was asking him to sign something if I thought he was full of shit, to which I answered it was for my hippie mom, peace love and drugs, man....

Which irritated the SHIT out of him cause he was trying to get away from that baggage.

His jaw got a real workout that night - he intro'd the speech by saying he wasn't interested in drugs anymore, that 60s turn on tune in get stoned thing was a mistake... but people kept interrupting him going "FREE LOVE MAN" and "DRUGS FOR COMPUTER PROGRAMMERS YEAH" and heckling him to get all 60s and hippy and druggy with them. He was grinding the BEJESUS out of his false teeth by the end of the night.

 

Not sure if this counts. While at a Woodstock reunion in Bethel, I met Jimmy Hendricks father and his girlfriend. She was wearing a flower ring on her head and gave me a flower from it. Still have it with her photo.

I was there with my babysitter and 2 of my 3 children. Good thing because we went for the day and stayed for 3 days and 2 nights. Had a vw van, peanut butter and jelly, bread and a jug of water. Kids drank the water and we drank beer.

 

Well, I've been only lucky enough to meet the guys of umphrey's, not, saying it in a negative way or anything but ...but jerry, marley, beatles, makes me wish i was born in a different era

 

my dad got picked up hitchhiking by neal cassady

 

i met timmothy leary twice, & ram das twice
tim i met in town before 2 talks he did, he knew an old freind of mine & the parents of an ex ..so we humg out at theyre house when he was in town..& ram das i first met on the great peace march, whenever that was, i was on day 9 of a 12 day fast & he offered me some frnch fries, i didnt realize who he was at the time, & helped him cook with the krishna kitchen, & then the next day i tripped & saw him speak..& i met him again last year at the california gathering, & actualy got to spend alot of time just hanging out with him.. i usualy would run into him in the morning & we'd just hang out shootin the shit for hours, but then by early afternoon the crowds started gathering around & it got hard to talk or hear him so i'd just wander away awhile
theres probly others i met that i'm just not rememberingat the momment

 

ok when i was seven i met sammy hagar at the air port when i had no idea who he was or who the hell van hallen was, he hung out with my dad and bought me a sprite and my dad a beer he was realy cool when we left the air port i sad daddy who was that man? and he just popped in a vh cd and siad listen to this, i would also like to now if anyone has met jim morrison?

 

The original question was " Have any of you met any real hipsters?" The answers, by and large, have been in this vein: "I've met______ (fill in the blank) at the local Wal-Mart buying kitty litter. He (or she) was famous long ago on Desolation Row ( or more likely, some inane soap opera.)


But, I guess that's O.K.

Me, I lived in both the West and East Villages in NYC during the 60's, as well as SF in 67 & 68, and I have met what I consider "hipsters".

1. Frank Zappa (who was about 6'7") in a record store on Bleecker St. He towered over me (5'7"), rubbed accidentally against me, and I was too shy to say that I had just seen him perform live 2 nights ago at some club on McDougal St., and enjoyed it. Ah, well-- I was merely a pup.

2.A.J. Weberman, the legendary founder of Garbology; the famous Dylanologist; the only known person in the universe that Bob Dylan punched out. He lived on the third-floor loft at 6 Bleecker; I lived on the fourth. We smoked many a joint, bull-shitted, and since I had a short (car) he paid me gas money to drive him all over Lower Manhatten to get his ridiculous political screeds published. Hey.... the work wasn't hard! (I occasionally am still in contact with him, BTW. When he has a telephone or a web-site.)

3.Dana Beal, one of the founders of The Yippies!, who instigated the riots at the 1968 Democratic Convention. A real political head-case who thought he could change the world. Right. Their actions in Chicago helped get Nixon elected. Once, when I was managing the back-editions office of THE EAST VILLAGE OTHER, in 1967, right across from Tompkins Square Park, he strolled into the office and told me about his previous night's experience with some chick he had spent the night with. " Man!," he sighed, "If I could have sex like that every night, I would give up politics!" Too bad for America, but she ditched him.

4.Ed Sanders, lead singer and founder of the FUGS, an East Village dirt-rock band that was 20 years ahead of the punk movement. Also, the editor of the seminal poetry magazine, FUCK YOU! A MAGAZINE OF THE ARTS. A.J. introduced me to him when he went over to his home to pester him about borrowing a mimeo-graph machine (Hey! This was 1967, you understand.) Ed was a real nice guy with a wife and 2 kids, nothing like his stage persona. BTW, he wrote a great book, TALES OF BEATNIK GLORY, which is available through Amazon.com.

5. Wavy Gravy, announcer at Woodstock, founder of the commune The Hog Farm. A.J. and I ate breakfast with him one morning at a greasy spoon at E. 10th and Ave. A in the East Village. I remember he said his favorite song at the moment was Aretha Franklin's "Respect", whereupon always opiniated A.J. disagreed, calling it "lame". Wavy was way too cool to argue, he just smiled and ate his eggs.

6.Allen Ginsburg, the Beat poet. This bald-headed old fraud (they'll never name a bridge after him as they did Walt Whitman) was always doddering about the two Villages, his eyes a-peel for young boys. I won't call him a pedophile, but I'm sure he wasn't checking age cards, either. I saw him reciting his poem that concludes, "America, I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel". He caught my eye, I caught his, and I moved smartly along, having scant use for his alleged poetry and less use for him.

7. And last but not least, Hilly Cristal, owner of CBGB's and OMFUG'S, the legendary punk-music venue where Blondie, The Ramones and other bands hit it big. It used to be a typical Bowery bar in 1967: a hundred-foot bar, tables, and fifty winos drunk and mumbling, laying on the floor, the sidewalks and pissing and shitting themselves. But, I lived a half-block away, the Ballantine Ale was 60 cents a quart and cold. Hilly bought it shortly after I left the scene in 1968; I came home (Fuck you, Thomas Wolfe!), and Hilly made a punk mecca out of it. I last saw him in 1994 when I re-visited New York to hand-deliver my novel to Random House. He let me use the bathroom and it was slightly more clean than when the winos ruled, except the winos hadn't written graffitti on the 12' ceilings. Those punks must have been on pogo sticks!

This is too long already-- I haven't even mentioned meeting John Updike and his father and mother, shaking hands backstage with Ernie Tubb, heckling Boxcar Willie and God knows what-all. But, you see--they ain't "hipsters". In fact, I'm getting drunk and it's raining and the Phillies game is coming on, not to speak of my poor pussy cats huddled on the porch dreading the onslaught of another Pennsylvanian winter.

Later.

P.S. Two hours later. The Phillies are winning, the rain has slowed and the poor pussycats can spend another night on the porch.

And, I ain't quite drunk enough yet-- I'll know: when I begin typing and spelling incorrectly and not catching it.

I fear it may be soon.

As you were.

 

Sloth Outta Here!

 

Good to read your memories, Sloth/Carol! You're younger than me,so, therefore, your memories are younger. But, young or old, they're still ours and to be treasured. I left NYC in Dec. of 1968, only returning in 1992 or 1993 to hand-deliver my novel to Random House. Even with a letter from their "star" writer, John Updike, they declined to publish it. Fuck 'em-- it's published now by Xlibris in Philly: "A Haven From Violence", by Burl N. Corbett, available through Barnes and Noble.com or Amazon.com.


Christ! David Peel is still alive! Didn't he have a song back in the day entitled "The Pope Smokes Dope"? I'm 58 and feel like I'm 88. Almost half of my old friends are dead-- suicides, accidents, booze or drugs. Oh, yeah-- cancer or heart attacks. Me, I just keep soldiering on.

But, I have my 4 children and 5 grandkids to keep me young (and broke). Nah.... it's my ex-wife who keeps me broke... I'm long done paying child-support, now it's ex-wife-support, voluntary, of course.

You see, I still love her, even after 16 years of divorce.

Jesus! I get off-track! Write more, Sloth, tell me about the early days of punk. Shit-- CBGB's was my old backyard, so to speak.

 

how hip iz groopyizum? Start groovin yoh Hair an growin yoh figernailz. Show yoh natural tallentz and revolt today, vuk dat mommy daddy dumb numbness, stay young an hip incontinumn.

 

Sloth Outta Here!

 

Sloth, the only person I've had any contact with since the 60's is A.J.Weberman, the Dylanologist who used to root in Dylan's garbage and otherwise harass him when Dylan lived on W.4th street. A.J. and I lived in the same building at 6 Bleecker and smoked many a joint together. He used to have a web-site but I think he lost it. I talked to him several times on the phone over the years, but no longer have his number. He's still into conspiracy theories; he served some time for pot dealing, I know.


Dana Beal, one of the founders of The Yippies!, was living at 5 Bleecker, I think, but that was several years ago. We go back a long way, too, though I was never into politics-- I just drove him around town to get his political screeds printed up.

I know Hilly lost his lease-- too bad. The whole Bowery area has changed-- most of the winos dead and gone-- a bunch of pill-heads and crack-heads, or so I gather.

San Francisco has been taken over by yuppies and gays. Everything must change.

The 60's were our time and unless one lived through it, no one can know. I guess the early 70's were like that, too. By then I was working cross-country pipeline and fixing to get married--New York and San Francisco just memories.

BUT WHAT MEMORIES THEY WERE!

 

I met Gypsy Boots, briefly, while passing through california. Caveman is my brother, though there are probably many people with the nick Caveman. MartyHeartSong, the guy with the band called Just Add Water , and teige. thats about it though.