News Accounts After

Fans react

From: CPassant <[c--ss--t] at []>
Date: 9 Aug 1995 15:05:05 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)

The news of Grateful Dead leader Jerry Garcia's death struck his legion of fans like a bolt from the blue Wednesday and they jammed phone and computer lines to express their dismay.

``Deadheads,'' as the band's loyal fans are called, talked of feeling numb, of a great leader dying. Some compared the portly Garcia to a rock 'n roll god and wondered whether the band could continue -- or if it should.

``This is going to change a lot of lives,'' said Toni Kippel, editor of the Grateful Dead fan magazine Relix as calls flooded into her Brooklyn office from grieving fans.

``It is a huge loss. On the Internet everyone is saddened beyond belief. From all across the country, people are just shocked. People are trying to set up gatherings to play his music,'' she added.

``What happens to a community when its messiah, when its icon is gone? It's so hard. I haven't quite digested it yet,'' said Deadhead Tom Boogaard, 26, of Jackson, Wyoming, who has seen more than 150 shows.

Deadhead Ken Harris, 31, of Santa Fe, New Mexico, said he knew he would one day have to face such an event.

``The fact that this day was anticipated doesn't make it any easier now that it's here. We all knew it would happen and Jerry would be the first to go,'' Harris said.

``I consider myself a Deadhead until the end. I never got jaded or grew out of it. I damn near got to 200 shows. I feel really sad that it had to end,'' he said.

``What are we going to do? Where do we go from here? I assume a big gathering in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco this weekend... My musical tastes, my whole lifestyle, has really been heavily influenced by them. There's a huge void all of a sudden,'' Harris added.

Former Grateful Dead keyboardist Tom Constanten, a close friend of Garcia, told San Francisco's KCBS radio station: ``I'm probably like a lot of people entering the first waves of numbness. One thing about the band is that they are a time capsule from a Camelot-like era of the 1960s ... and I think it is that magic that people were attracted to.''

He added, ``A lot of people are going to be numb for a little while, and numb from a very deep inside place.''

Ren Grevat, a veteran music industry publicist who worked closely with the Grateful Dead, said Garcia's death was ``a great loss to rock and roll and to musical America. He was a real icon.''

He said the band was to make its annual New York appearance for six performances starting Sept. 21 and wondered what would happen. ``They are a democratically run band and I assume they will have to sit down down together and make a decision on whether they can continue.''

Court Passant CBS NEWS CBS Address: [p--s--t] at []

2nd New York Times article - Long

From: Eileen 'Lee' Katman <[l--e] at []>
Organization: Bio Sci Div Academic Computing
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 17:44:20 GMT

Sadness From the Streets to High Offices I

A photo of: A Grateful Dead fan, Paul Van Houtte, yesterday contemplated a picture of the band's guitarist, Jerry Garcia, that was part of a San Francisco store's window display tribute to the late musician.


SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 9--Wildflower bouquets lay on the steps of 710 Ashbury Street today and a small group of people gathered quietly to mourn the death of Jerry Garcia, with the sound of ritual drums rising from the intersection at Haight Street a few blocks away.

Only the faithful knew that the neat blue Victorian house was where the Grateful Dead started in 1965. Some mourners wore tie-dyed shirts and black armbands, while others had left their jobs after hearing the news and were still in office attire. They all came to talk about the passing of an era and a man who made a community with his music. Bob Meola, 43, of Grosse Pointe, Mich., who said he had been a fan of the band since 1971, said it meant "the guru coming off the strings."

The "Tourheads" who spend years following the band in Volkswagens and renovated school buses and the professional people who use their vacation time to travel to shows and talk on computer chatlines for "Deadheads," were part of a broad cross-section of Americans who expressed sadness about an event many had long feared because of Mr. Garcia's precarious health. Cars honked as they passed, and one man leaned out of a truck and cried, " Later on, Jerry!"

In New York City, Mr. Garcia's death prompted a similar outpouring of emotion. At the Wetlands Preserve bar in TriBeCa, telephone calls poured in from Deadheads looking for others to share their grief with. Jenny Rubin a receptionist said one caller had implored her: "I really need to find out where everyone is because all I have is my dog to hold."

The bar's owner, Larry Bloch said Wetlands, a hippie-style bar replete with a sticker-covered Volkswagen mini-bus on display, would hold a memorial for Mr. Garcia next Tuesday.

Jake Szufnarowski, Mr. Bloch's assistant, said that if any Grateful Dead lyric could best capture Mr. Garcia's message, it would be two lines from the song, "Scarlet Begonias": "Once in a while you can get shown the light/ In the strangest places if you look at it right."

Les Kippel, founder of Relix magazine, a Brooklyn publication that specializes in the Grateful Dead, said: "We have five lines coming in here, and they have been ringing nonstop and they have been ringing nonstop the entire day. Between that the fax machine and E-mail we have been inundated with calls, notes and messages and even now at 7 P.M. it hasn't stopped."

In the San Francisco Bay area where the Grateful Dead has been an institution for three decades, the band's music was played even on allnews AM radio stations, where the only music is usually heard on commercials. Rock music critics and friends of the band gathered on talk shows to recall stories of Mr. Garcia.

Most people said they were shocked when they heard the news.

In Oakland, Quilley Powers, a friend of the band and several staff members, said: "I feel kind of numb. I'm not sure why, but the first thing I did was to wash a shirt that shows Jerry meditating."

The Grateful Dead, with Mr. Garcia as its leader has virtually defined the counter-culture for parts of three generations of Americans.

"Some of the things the hippies got right came out the strongest and the clearest in the Grateful Dead," Stewart Brand, an author who was involved in the band's early days, said today. The band, he added, "stuck by their knitting and stuck by their principles; they didn't sell out."

Mr. Garcia's death was widely viewed in deeply personal terms, even by many people whose position in business or society might not immediately identify them as followers of such a counter-culture group. "I feel like a member of my family died," said Roger McNamee, a general partner at Integral Capital Partners in Palo Alto.

He also said that the day was one of emotional contrast for him. As a technology investor, he had been elated by the early success of Netscape Inc., a hot new Internet company that had its first public stock offering. But when he learned that Mr. Garcia had died, he felt devastated, he said.

But the many commercial products linked to the band, including Jerry Garcia ties and the Cherry Garcia line of ice cream, frozen yogurt, T-shirts and other frozen desserts made by Ben & Jerry's Homemade Inc. of Vermont, seemed certain to continue being made.

"Cherry Garcia was meant as a tribute to Jerry while he was still alive," Ben Cohen, a co-founder of the ice cream company, was quoted by The Associated Press as saying. "It's certainly a continuing tribute now that he's gone."

The ice cream, which is loaded with chunks of cherries and chocolate, consistently ranks among the top five of the company's more than two dozen flavors and frequently is among the top three, a company spokesman said.

Among the band's followers are many in positions of power. Vice President Albert Gore Jr. and his wife say they are fans of the Grateful Dead, as does Gov. William F. Weld of Massachusetts and other political figures.

Wearing a black ribbon on his lapel, Mr. Weld called a news conference today to express his sadness. "I listened to the Dead for a couple of hours last night," said Mr. Weld, adding that he last attended a Grateful Dead concert in 1993 at the Boston Garden.

Mr. Garcia began playing informally in the coffee houses and bookstores around Stanford University in the early 1960's, and some followers remembered him from then. "I first saw Jerry Garcia playing his guitar at Kepler's Bookstore in Menlo Park in the early 1960's," said Vic Lovell, a psychologist, who lived near Mr. Garcia in a Bohemian neighborhood in Menlo Park from 1960 to 1965.

Mr. Lovell, now 60 years old, said he still occasionally attended concerts and was struck by how the Grateful Dead had managed to extend its following across generations.

"I see kids who look just like I remember we used to look," he said. "We seem to have produced a band that extends from generation to generation. "



Chicago Tribune article - Long

From: Eileen 'Lee' Katman <[l--e] at []>
Organization: Bio Sci Div Academic Computing
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 18:56:52 GMT

Chicago Tribune Article Thursday August 10, 1995
Reprinted without permission

Rock icon's death marks end of era

photo of: Jerry Garcia performing with the Grateful Dead at Soldier Field on July 8, one of his final concerts.

By Greg Kot

His round, grizzled face shrouded in gray, Jerry Garcia was as regal and inscrutable as Father Time, and seemed just about as indestructible. He was the grandfatherly eminence at the center of rock's longest-running party, the masterful guitarist in one of its most commercially successful bands, the Grateful Dead

The Dead's epic four-hour concerts were more like ritual celebrations, and although Garcia barely moved onstage barely even smiled, the all consuming "vibe" of breezy largely improvised music and uninhibited mirth experienced by millions of tie-dyed disciples would have been unimaginable without him.

When Garcia, 53, was found dead of a heart attack in his room Wednesday by a counselor at Serenity Knolls, a drug and alcohol treatment facility at Forest Knolls near San Francisco, the grief cut across generations.

Although the band's following multiplied in the last few years to include many fans who weren't even born when the Dead became the figure heads of San Francisco acid rock in the 1960s, the sextet's ongoing success outside mainstream society was an inspiration to many older listeners as well

"Garcia is about the idea that middle age doesn't have to be a dead end," the band's biographer and publicist, Dennis McNally, said a few years ago. "That makes him a very reassuring figure for a lot of people."

Former Grateful Dead keyboardist Tom Constanten, a close friend of Garcia, told San Francisco's KCBS radio station "I'm probably like a lot of people entering the first waves of numbness. One thing about the band is that they are a time capsule from a Camelot-like era of the 1960s... and I think it is that magic that people were attracted to."

Massachusetts Gov. William Weld, a 50-year-old Republican and fan of the band said, "More than any one song it was just the consistently mellow approach they took to everything, life as well as music."

He called Garcia's death "a loss to both my generation and my children's."

Garcia had been in ill health for years, as drugs, lack of exercise and a poor diet took an increasingly debilitating toll. He survived a diabetic coma in 1986 and collapsed from exhaustion in

"I have a new respect for my own mortality--again," he said in 1993, backstage at a concert in Las Vegas. He looked renewed, after shedding 60 pounds and adopting a more disciplined lifestyle. "We were burning out ... [but] our whole community has taken a jump toward reaffirmation, and we're kind of gearing up to make it to the millennium. That's our current goal."

But the guitarist was clearly struggling on stage this year at Soldier Field on July 8 and 9, Garcia's final concerts with the Dead. Although his guitar playing was still sharp, Garcia was even less animated than usual, and he frequently forgot or mumbled through lyrics of his best known songs.

McNally said he didn't know why Garcia was at the treatment center where he died.

"It was news to me," he said. "I thought he was going to Hawaii. Apparently he was paying in. creased attention to his health." McNally said he had seen Garcia recently, so he could not have been in the center for more than a couple of days.

The band has lost several members since forming as the Warlocks in 1964, including Ron "Pigpen" McKernan, who died of alcoholism in 1973; former keyboardist Keith Godchaux, in a car crash in 1980; and keyboardist Brent Mydland, of a drug overdose in 1990.

Each time, the Dead pushed forward, but Garcia's death puts its future in serious doubt. Although band members always emphasized that they operated as a collective, Garcia was clearly its most visible and marketable symbol--no other band member commanded a line of T-shirts, posters and dolls as Garcia did.

From the beginning, Garcia stood out because of his virtuosity as an instrumentalist. He picked up speed and dexterity by studying bluegrass banjo and applied it to electric guitar, creating one of the more distinctive styles of the acid-rock era.

The Dead recorded prolifically and toured extensively through the 1970s, building a strong, steady following of "Deadheads."

By the late '80s the Dead were a cultural phenomenon, better known for the party that followed them around the country than for the music they played, an amalgam of blues, rock and country informed by jazz improvisation and avant-garde experimentation.

It was an attitude summarized by Eric Rittenhause of California, who had attended nearly 300 Dead shows, outside one of the band's Indianapolis concerts a few years ago: "I don't always have a ticket, but I've developed a certain Zen attitude about this--it's as good a show outside as it is inside."

In 1987, the single "Touch of Grey'' became the band's first and only top-10 hit and attracted a new, young audience to its concerts, many drawn by the allure of a hippie culture that they knew only from books and movies.

Ironically, as the band members became more removed from the scene they helped create in the '60s --guitarist Bob Weir said he hadn't taken LSD since 1966 -- their audience became more determined to recapture it by dressing in Summer of love paisley and scarves.

But beyond the Halloween-hippie side show, the Dead remained a beacon of self sufficiency. Incorporating itself and doling out year-round salaries and benefits to a staff of 50, the band essentially created its own music industry. Studio records became more sporadic as the band increasingly put emphasis on its annual concert tours.

"A studio record is a lot like building a ship in a bottle," Garcia once said, "whereas playing live is like being a rowboat on an ocean."

Although the flow of new songs became a trickle, the band still drew on a repertoire of more than 200 tunes, any one of which could be played in myriad variations.

Rarely were the same songs played on successive nights, as the band strove to make each concert unique--a rarity on the stadium touring circuit, where major acts such as Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones increasingly choreographed each moment on stage.

"We're a testament to a group of people who thought and behaved differently, who eschewed the normal way of doing things, the normal business ethics, and did it on our own successfully," road manager Cameron Sears once said. "I think our fans try to follow that example, but all too often they're judged as some freak show strictly on appearance."

Garcia described the band's audience as "respectful and forgiving."

"They like it when we exhibit humanness, when someone forgets the lyrics, or we blow an arrangement or start at the wrong tempo," he said. "They like the tension the music gets when we're not all in agreement."

"In that way, it's like a jazz audience. They're paying attention and they'll listen. This is the finest audience there is."

The Dead refused to pander to that audience, no matter how large the venue. In place of laser light shows, fancy staging or even droll between-songs commentary, the band merely offered six rumpled musicians engaging in free-flowing musical dialogue. Sometimes even diehard fans were driven off as the Dead went fishing aimlessly for cosmic inspiration.

"It's fun to have a part of each show absolutely unstructured," Garcia said. "Staleness is our enemy."

Increasingly, Garcia turned from his own well-worn songbook to those of other performers whom he admired, especially Bob Dylan. When he sang Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" a few years ago, after recovering from his collapse, he brought a special poignancy to the performance.

"Some of those songs, it just hits you...," he said of the Dylan tune. "But it's what made it a great song in the first place, no matter what happens in your life, because there's a part of your life in there. You're dying, everybody's dying, and at some point or another you have to face it."

Garcia is survived by his third wife, Deborah Koons Garcia, a Marin County filmmaker, and four daughters- Heather, 32, Annabelle, 25, Teresa, 21 and Keelin, 6. Funeral arrangements were not immediately announced.

Tribune wire services contributed to this report.



(Reuters) Grateful Dead guitarist Weir plays tribute to Garcia

From: Eileen 'Lee' Katman <[l--e] at []>
Organization: Bio Sci Div Academic Computing
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 19:18:22 GMT

Grateful Dead guitarist Weir plays tribute to Garcia

(Updates throughout with concert, new quotes)

HAMPTON, N.H., Aug 10 (Reuter) - Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir played a tribute on Wednesday night to his long-time friend and musical partner, Jerry Garcia, calling Garcia's death a loss ``to anyone who loves music.''

Weir took to the stage for a scheduled concert with his sideband ``Bob Weir, Rob Wasserman and Ratdog'' despite having learned of Garcia's apparent heart attack earlier on Wednesday in California.

``Good music can make bad times better,'' Weir told the audience of a sold-out show at Hampton Casino Ballroom.

Weir dedicated the show to Garcia; fans of the Grateful Dead gathered for an impromptu vigil outside the nightclub on New Hampshire's seacoast.

``It's a big loss for the world and anyone who loves music,'' a tearful Weir told reporters in a brief statement before the concert, describing Garcia's life as ``a blessing for all of us.''

``Perhaps if we're going to dwell on anything, we should dwell on that,'' said Weir, a rhythm guitarist, singer and songwriter for the Grateful Dead and one of the original members of the band.

He did not say whether the Grateful Dead intended to continue without Garcia.

Weir joined his band for a sound check on the stage and then played alone for a few minutes after the band left.

Nightclub spokesman Marc Gentilella said the concert was quickly sold out as news of Garcia's death spread.

As he spoke, a throng of Grateful Dead fans, known as ``Deadheads'' gathered outside the club, some holding candles, in an impromptu memorial to the 60s icon.

Deadhead and self-described Grateful Dead ``historian'' John Scott of Cornish, New Hampshire, and the author of ``Dead Base: the complete guide to Grateful Dead song lists,'' said Garcia's death was devastating to fans worldwide.

``For many people, the Dead were a central focus for their lives. They had jobs, but the Grateful Dead gave meaning to them. It was very important to many Deadheads,'' Scott said.

Weir was expected to break off his tour and return to California on Thursday. Funeral arrangements for Garcia have not yet been announced.

Reuter N:Copyright 1995, Reuters News Service



Just wanted to share this...

From: John Heckler <[h--k--r] at []>
Date: 10 Aug 1995 19:48:19 GMT
Organization: Mead Data Central, Dayton OH

Here are some articles I thought I'd share because they show how Jerry touch many of us including Bob Dylan, Senator Leahy, etc...

It helps me to mourn...hopefully you also...


Copyright 1995 Associated Press
AP Online
August 10, 1995; Thursday 03:59 Eastern Time

Dead Heads Mourn In DC AP-Garcia-Capital


Several fans of late Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia held an impromptu vigil at the Lincoln Memorial to mourn his death.

U.S. Park Police had no estimate of how many ''Dead Heads,'' fans of the band, turned out for the candlelight commemoration.

Word of the vigil was relayed mostly on the Internet, but announcements were also made on local Washington area radio stations.

Candles were placed below several pictures of the 53-year-old Garcia, who died Wednesday from a heart attack he suffered while at a drug rehabilitation center in California.

Meanwhile, longtime fan Sen. Patrick Leahy said news of Garcia's death left him feeling ''like I've been kicked in the stomach.''

''I just feel terrible about it,'' said Leahy, D-Vt., a fan since the 1960s and personal friend of Garcia for about 10 years.

''When they were here last just a few weeks ago, I was talking to Jerry,'' Leahy said in an interview with The Associated Press. ''He was talking about how he was watching his diet and being careful. I took my oldest son with me. We were on stage for the whole show.''

Leahy's friendship with the guitarist developed after someone representing the band called to find out if it was true that Leahy had attended a Dead concert.

''I said 'I go all the time,''' recalled Leahy, 55. Then came the first of many invitations to sit backstage.

''I got a call one night from the White House operator while on stage. ... The president and secretary of state are looking for me. I got on the phone with the secretary of state (Warren Christopher) and he asked me if I thought I had my radio on rather loud.''

Last year Leahy invited Garcia and other band members to lunch in the senators' dining room.

''The most remarkable thing about that was Senator Thurmond came up, introduced himself to Jerry Garcia and said, 'Boy I understand you're a rock star.'''

Garcia acknowledged that he was. The then-91-year-old South Carolina Republican then responded: ''Well I'm Strom Thurmond. I'm the oldest member of the U.S. Senate.''

During that lunch, Garcia asked Leahy which was his favorite song.

At the concert this year at RFK Stadium, the band played that song, ''Black Muddy River,'' as its encore in honor of Leahy's presence.

''I thought he looked better than he had in years,'' said Leahy of Garcia at that concert.

Leahy said he had wanted to attend the band's recent performance in Vermont, but couldn't. It had been their second show there after being urged by Leahy to go to the state.

He couldn't count the number of concerts he's attended. ''I go every time I can,'' said Leahy. ''They have probably kept the most loyal cadre of fans you can image. They have always treated their fans and their own people right.''

Leahy said he keeps track of the band on the Internet. ''I even have their Web page on my list of bookmarks,'' he said.

The senator said he felt different kinds of people could read their feelings and hopes into the Dead's music and lyrics ''even though they may be diametrically opposite.''

''I've never left one of their concerts not feeling better than when I went in,'' said Leahy.

Proprietary to the United Press International 1995
United Press International

August 10, 1995, Thursday, BC cycle -00:09 Eastern Time

Garcia death sparks memories


Jerry Garcia's unexpected death Wednesday at age 53 stunned the rock world as the Grateful Dead's most loyal fans, Deadheads, gathered in person or in cyberspace to commiserate and reminisce about a beloved hero.

When attending Grateful Dead concerts over the past three decades, most Deadheads looked their part, with well-worn blue jeans, T-shirts, the scant trappings of devotees who made it a point to see the band whenever it came to town or to travel as far as necessary to catch a show.

On Wednesday, as they learned of Garcia's death after they already had reported to jobs, some came in suits, ties or skirts to impromptu open-air assemblies in San Francisco, the Dead's hometown.

By midday about 50 fans collected at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury streets, the heart of San Francisco's drug and music Mecca in the 1960s.

A smaller number made their way to Serenity Knolls, the rural Northern California rehabilitation center where Garcia died, and placed flowers at the bases of trees.

Memorial gatherings were held Wednesday night at the polo fields of San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, site of many of rock's legendary concerts, as well as in Griffith Park in Los Angeles -- by the merry-go- round.

Elsewhere, Garcia fans gathered in Manhattan and late into the night on the Mall in Washington.

San Francisco Mayor Frank Jordan ordered flags flown at half staff in Garcia's memory, crediting him with launching the San Francisco music scene.

Others shared their grief through computer forums such as Prodigy, American Online and the Sausalito, Calif.-based Whole Earth Electronic Link, known as The WELL.

''It's a very busy day on The WELL,'' spokeswoman Melissa Walia said. ''It peaked midmorning as the news got out and people learned that it was not just a rumor.'' Prodigy spokeswoman Carol Wallace said scores of Deadheads posted bulletin board notices dedicated to Garcia.

''God bless you, Jerry. You changed my life and I will be forever Grateful,'' one read. Another said: ''I have been locked up in a meeting at work all morning. I can't believe he is gone. Thanks for the good times. Man, has it been fun!'' The San Francisco-based Grateful Dead hotline was jammed with calls, and the band's merchandise office had a telephone recording saying it would be closed for the rest of the week.

KQED, the Bay Area PBS station, had planned before Garcia's death to broadcast the band's 1980 Halloween concert at Radio City Music Hall as part of its current fund-raising drive. A station spokeswoman said the show still would air.

Garcia was mourned even in the Washington establishment where 55- year-old Sen. Patrick Leahy, D-Vt. -- Capitol Hill's only self-proclaimed Deadhead -- said he felt as if he had been ''kicked in the stomach.'' Leahy said his young aides often are surprised to come across Grateful Dead albums in his office or, stranger still, to see the tall, balding Leahy at a concert onstage with Garcia.

Bob Dylan, who recorded a 1988 album with the Dead, said Garcia inspired him.

''To me he wasn't only a musician and friend, he was more like a big brother who taught and showed me more than he'll ever know,'' Dylan said. ''His playing was moody, awesome, sophisticated, hypnotic and subtle. There's no way to convey the loss. It just digs down really deep.'' David Crosby of Crosby, Stills and Nash said, ''Musicians and people who loved him have lost one of the brightest, most articulate and best minds of his generation.'' ''Needless to say, regardless of human frailties, the man was an extremely positive force for the light side,'' Graham Nash added.

In Los Angeles, album-rock radio station KSCA-FM dropped its usual broad-range playlist Wednesday to play nothing but Grateful Dead music. ''We never made a conscious decision to abandon our regular format,'' program director Michael Morrison said. ''People just kept calling in requests.

''We put some people on the air -- the airwaves turn into a gigantic therapy session,'' he said. ''It shows that the Grateful Dead were more than just music to many, many people. The emotions run so deep -- it's beyond the normal relationship fans have with most rock 'n' roll bands.'' As many observed, Garcia's band was not just a music act -- otherwise its recordings would have sold better -- it was a segment of '60s and '70s culture, a way of life for the mellowed-out fans who caravaned from one concert site to the next and passed on their appreciation to their children.

''Jerry's legacy is the Grateful Dead and the counterculture it spun off,'' said singer Country Joe McDonald, a close friend of Garcia. ''I will remember him as an excellent musician, a very nice guy who was abused by his work. It's a much too familiar tale -- people who are famous beyond anything but are on a treadmill that prevents them from having normal relationships and getting themselves together. His fame caused his death.'' Paul Krassner, editor of the Realist, an influential 1960s counter- culture magazine, was one of many who spoke Wednesday of not just Garcia, but his band in the past tense.

''The Grateful Dead represented a sense of community that transcended just the music,'' he said. ''They shared a value system with their fans at a time when the Vietnam War was dividing the country. ''Going to a Dead concert was like a healing ceremony for people who were termed 'freaks.' People felt gratified -- it was like finding out you weren't the only Martian on the block,'' Krassner said.

Arista Records President Clive Davis called Garcia ''a towering figure in music and contemporary culture...always special, always generous and sharing and warm hearted.'' Arista, the band's label since 1977, said nothing Wednesday about the future of the Grateful Dead without its leader.

But Krassner, echoing a sentiment voiced often by fans on the computer services, said, ''I don't think the band will continue without him.''

news stories

From: Paul Basken <[Paul Basken] at []>
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 22:03:42 -0500
Organization: Capital Area Internet Service [i--o] at [] 703-448-4470

here's a couple for any and all. bobby is right -- as hard as it is to do the positive is the thing to remember.

Fans of Jerry Garcia Comfort Each Other Online
By Michelle Slatalla
(c) 1995, Newsday

Soon after Grateful Dead fan David Tarendash heard the sad news Wednesday that guitarist Jerry Garcia had died, he logged into cyberspace and read this message: "All I can do is cry on line."

"Me too ... that's all I have been doing," typed the 26-year-old New York City computer programmer in response.

And he felt better. For a minute.

Like Tarendash, hundreds of the band's fans who are members of the loyal and close-knit online community of The Well, based in Sausalito, Calif., continued to comfort each other by computer Thursday.

Although the musician was mourned all across the Internet, his death was a particularly poignant event for members of The Well, the online provider that first launched the Grateful Dead into cyberspace a decade ago.

Back in the mid-1980s, this online gathering place for artists and hackers and people who embraced the label "hippie" was a brand-new dial-up electronic bulletin board system. Its finances were shaky and its future uncertain back when two Well members decided to create a conference } an online conversation for people who wanted to exchange news about the Grateful Dead.

"It saved the business," remembers Stewart Brand, a longtime Dead fan who co-founded The Well. "Suddenly, there was a large, really dedicated body of folks scattered around the country } Dead fans who all started to log in to The Well."

Over the years, the Grateful Dead conference lured a lot of immigrants to cyberspace, including Grateful Dead lyricist John Perry Barlow, who went on to co-found the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a national group that lobbies on behalf of civil liberties in cyberspace. Even members of the band, such as percussionist Mickey Hart, log in from time to time.

"It made sense that this would happen, because the Deadheads were a community in their own right," said Brand. "And then The Well was sort of a community, and it was a good fit. Deadheads would all like to be at a concert together all the time. On The Well, they can kind of create that atmosphere. And the interesting thing is, on The Well it's all done using words, not music at all."

Today, The Well hosts seven different conferences on the Grateful Dead, where computer users can hang out and talk about topics ranging from their favorite lyrics to rumors of upcoming concert tours.

But the Dead fans who have logged in since Wednesday have been looking for only one thing: a community of people to share their grief.

Well users have posted more than a thousand messages of support and shared memories of their favorite Dead concerts and songs, said Gail Williams, The Well's conferencing manager.

One Well member, who asked not to be identified, said, "It helped me a great deal, knowing that my brothers and sisters were in the same space I was. The Well is a place where people would understand and we could all console each other."

Tarendash, who has been a fan of the band for 13 years, said, "People at work said, 'Get over it. It's not like it was someone in your family.' So I went to The Well, where we all understand. We share this common tragedy. In a way, it holds us together."

Death of Garcia leaves fate of Grateful Dead in question
By Paul Liberatore
Marin (Calif.) Independent Journal

The future of the Grateful Dead remained in limbo today as the band mourned the death of lead guitarist Jerry Garcia. "I expect a funeral in the next couple of days that will be totally private," publicist Dennis McNally said this morning.

"It will be for family only." At the same time, some family members called for a public memorial that would include Garcia's legions of fans.

His widow, Deborah Koons Garcia, hopes her husband will be commemorated at "a celebration of a wonderful life" that will probably be held in San Francisco.

"All his music is going to be around," she said. "That is personally what I need to remember to get me through."

McNally didn't rule out the possibility of a public memorial, but added band members were too upset to talk about such arrangements today.

"As far as arranging a public event, I can't imagine it happening in the next couple of days," McNally said.

"The band is in mourning."

The band was scheduled to begin a new tour Sept. 13 in Boston, ending with six shows at Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View in October.

That tour could be scrapped.

"The future of the band is in doubt, but I'm not a band member and can't say," McNally said.

"They are way too distraught to have anything to say today." Bob Weir of Mill Valley, Calif., who founded the Dead with Garcia, was performing in New Hampshire with bassist Rob Wasserman.

Weir dedicated his concert last night to his old friend.

"It's a big loss for the world and anyone who loves music," said a red-eyed Weir.

"His life was far more a blessing for all of us. . . . Perhaps if we're going to dwell on anything, we should dwell on that."

Other band members in Marin County, Calif., gathered at the Grateful Dead's San Rafael office to grieve and talk about what to do next. Industry insiders said it was hard to tell what would happen with the band.

"Jerry Garcia was the Grateful Dead so it's hard to see the band without him, but what they're going to do I couldn't even venture to guess," said Jane Cohen, a senior editor at Performance magazine in Fort Worth, Texas.

Equally uncertain was the fate of the hordes of nomadic fans known as Deadheads who follow the band from town to town. "Where do they go now?" asked Cohen. "This was their life, sort of like a lost tribe."

"It's just the biggest loss they could imagine," said Mary Kaye Schilling, a senior editor at Entertainment Weekly.

"They look at him as if he were some sort of a religious figure."

RE:news stories

From: Paul Basken <[Paul Basken] at []>
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 01:51:07 -0500
Organization: Capital Area Internet Service [i--o] at [] 703-448-4470

No way to measure' Garcia's greatness or magnitude': Bob Dylan

Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead guitarist whose band defined the counterculture of '60s hippie hedonism, didn't die alone. He took with him a good deal of the era's idealism and gentle spirit.

"There's no way to measure his greatness or magnitude," Bob Dylan said Wednesday, after hearing Garcia had died at a drug treatment center. "I don't think any eulogizing will do him justice."

Garcia was found dead in his bed early Wednesday in the Serenity Knolls clinic in Marin County, Calif. He was 53. Funeral arrangements are pending.

He died of natural causes, "most likely a heart attack," said band publicist and historian Dennis McNally.

Garcia had a long history of drug abuse, but in recent years, dieted, quit smoking and began a fitness program.

"Just when he was making a clear statement about positiveness, his body gave up on him," McNally said. "I'm depressed, disappointed and frustrated."

So are millions of fans, from casual music lovers to die-hard Deadheads crossing generational lines from teens in tie-dyed T-shirts to CEOs in pin-striped suits and ties.

"The community lost its patriarch," said Rusty Jones, 32, who played "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes at an impromptu tribute in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. "Everybody is just a little bit sadder today."

"We've had 30 years of the Grateful Dead," said Jackie Tocco, a municipal bond trader in St. Louis. "I guess we should be grateful for that, but I could've taken another 30 years."

San Francisco Mayor Frank Jordan, who has taken his three sons to Grateful Dead concerts, ordered flags lowered to half-staff and a tie-dyed Dead flag hoisted up the City Hall flagpole.

Said another politician, Massachusetts Gov. William Weld, a 50-year-old Republican and an unabashed fan: Garcia's death is "a loss to both my generation and my children's."

Garcia's death also upset a recording industry already accustomed to the premature demise of its stars.

"It was very shocking," said Willie Nelson, who admired the Dead's blend of country, blues, bluegrass, gospel and jazz. "I love the Grateful Dead. I've listened to them as much as I've listened to anybody."

Carlos Santana, Garcia's friend and colleague for 30 years, mourned the loss of a "special human being."

And Van Halen singer Sammy Hagar, Garcia's neighbor in Marin County, was looking forward to jamming after both got off the road. "It's sad that ... some of our greatest people aren't making it into old age," he said. "It would have been nice to hear what kind of music he would have made later in life."

James Henke, curator of Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame & Museum, said Garcia "will be remembered not just as a musician, but for the lifestyle and values he represented ... freedom and experimentation and not being rigid."

Garcia once said, "We need magic, and bliss, and power, myth, and celebration and religion in our lives, and music is a good way to encapsulate a lot of it."

Few bands embodied those values more fully than the Dead, a 30-year institution founded in the glory days of San Francisco's psychedelic rock scene.

Garcia, raised in the city's Mission District, turned to electric guitar at 15, dropped out of high school at 17 and was discharged from the Army in 1961 after a year of service.

In 1964, he formed the Grateful Dead with Bob Weir, Bill Kreutzmanm, Ron "Pigpen" McKenna and Phil Lesh. Over three decades, the band enjoyed only one Top 10 single, 1987's "Touch of Grey," yet grew to be one of rock's most profitable acts, earning $250 million from tours } and the industry's highest concert grosses for nine of the past 10 years.

Yet the Dead's struggle was not painless, and Garcia was not its first casualty. McKenna died of alcoholism in 1973. Keith Godchaux died in a 1980 car crash. Brent Mydland died of a drug overdose in 1990.

Garcia was hospitalized in a diabetic coma in 1986 and collapsed from exhaustion in 1991, causing the portly, graying musician to change his lifestyle.

While beloved by the Deadheads, who often followed the band from concert to concert, the Grateful Dead is also popular with less-nomadic fans of all ages and genres. Many of them in the industry, from Los Lobos and Lyle Lovett to Jane's Addiction and Elvis Costello, donated tracks to 1991's "Deadicated" tribute to the band.

RE:news stories

From: Paul Basken <[Paul Basken] at []>
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 01:51:40 -0500
Organization: Capital Area Internet Service [i--o] at [] 703-448-4470

Services for Grateful Dead's Garcia to be private

Details of a private funeral for Jerry Garcia may be revealed Friday, but no decision is known about the band's future.

Garcia, said to be battling heroin addiction, died Wednesday of an apparent heart attack in a Marin County drug rehabilitation center. An autopsy was ordered, and toxicology results are due in two weeks.

"I'm very proud of him for making a commitment to get well," said publicist Dennis McNally. "He's a guy who could always shrug off any threat to his health, and he had a powerful personality capable of not listening to the best advice. It was clear in recent days that he turned the corner and was ready to confront it."

The band's East Coast tour, scheduled to start Sept. 13 in Boston, has not been canceled. And persistent rumors of a tribute concert appear premature.

"Nothing is confirmed," McNally said. "If there's a public tribute that the band participates in it will involve several thousand people and take more than a day to put together. The band isn't prepared to discuss that yet."

Garcia's peers continue to express shock and sadness.

"Jerry was the kind of guy you connect with immediately and intimately," said friend and colleague Bruce Hornsby, who enlisted Garcia on his past three albums. "I will miss him personally and musically."

A frequent sideman at Dead shows, Hornsby played with the band in late June and last spoke to Garcia a week ago.

"He sounded better than he had in ages," he said. "When I last saw him, I said I was heavily in the woodshed, and he said he was feeling inspired to do that himself. He was recommitting himself to the guitar.

"He had a deep musical soul, great wit and intellect and was a walking encyclopedia of musical knowledge," he added.

"Jerry was a uniquely insightful, talented musician and human being," said Dwight Yoakam. "He was extremely gracious and genuine."

And Blues Traveler, often compared to the Dead, said in a statement it admired how the Dead "put the music and the fans first. We will continue to cherish this philosophy. (It's) a gift we'll never forget."

During the next few days, 50 cents from every carton of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream will go to a Grateful Dead charity, the Vermont company said Thursday.

SF Chronicle Editorial 8/11

From: Greg Thomas <[g m thomas] at []>
Organization: NETCOM On-line Communication Services (408 261-4700 guest)
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 18:48:50 GMT

Reprinted w/o permission,

more at

EDITORIAL -- American Beauty

OF ALL THE WORDS of mournful praise that have followed the death of Jerry Garcia, leader of the Grateful Dead, the one adjective that runs consistently through the commentaries on his life and times is ``integrity.''

In an industry that thrives on hype, glitz and greed, Garcia never succumbed or aspired to pretensions of self-important celebrityhood; for three decades, he and the band offered open and accessible celebration and entertainment to their countless Deadhead fans, who were treated as members of an extended family, not as suckers to be fleeced.

In a music form where concerns for commercial success outweigh artistic considerations, Garcia never sold out to screaming metal and showy theatrics, remaining true to his own vision of a unique fusion sound of improvisational rock music. In a popular culture that sacrifices every value to merce nary pursuit, Garcia never lost the romantic ideals of San Francisco in the 1960s, the special era that spawned his music and nurtured it into the 1990s.

``The Grateful Dead and Jerry have been the one band that has been about not just the music but the socialization of people,'' said Gregg Perloff, president of the concert promotions firm Bill Graham Presents, ``allowing people to assemble and escape the drudgery of everyday life and experience joy, true joy.''

Whatever private demons drove Garcia to drug addiction -- a child of the Mission District, at the age of 5 he saw his father drown while on a camping trip -- he died while trying to heal himself, checked into a recovery center in an effort to get clean before another Grateful Dead tour in the fall. In the end, what will be remembered is the gentle image of Garcia's smiling, bearded face atop his bearlike body -- that and his matchless music.

``There's no way to measure his greatness or magnitude as a person or as a player,'' said Bob Dylan. ``He really had no equal. His playing was moody, awesome, sophisticated, hypnotic and subtle. There's no way to convey the loss.''

Jerry's Funneral from AP

From: Stuart Talkofsky <[s--t] at []>
Organization: Long Island Information, Inc. (516-248-5381)
Date: Sat, 12 Aug 1995 12:35:48 GMT

12:15 AM (ET) 8/12 Private Funeral for Garcia BELVEDERE, Calif.--After days of impromptu memorials, a private funeral was held Friday afternoon for Jerry Garcia in a church that shares the name of one of the Grateful Dead's most beloved songs.

Family, close friends and band members gathered at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church for a service that ended with one final standing ovation for the legendary band leader.

As word of the funeral leaked, the media converged on the small town about 10 miles north of San Francisco. Bob Dylan, Ken Kesey, Bruce Hornsby and basketball great Bill Walton were among the mourners.

Kesey and Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter were among those who spoke at the 90-minute service, said band publicist Dennis McNally, who handed out portions of Hunter's eulogy.

"If some part of that music is heard in deepest dream, or on some breeze of summer a snatch of golden theme, we'll know you live inside us with love that never parts, our good old Jack o' Diamonds become the King o' Hearts," one portion read.

Garcia's casket was open, and he was clad in his signature black T-shirt and black sweats, McNally said. The family hasn't said if he will be buried or cremated.

Garcia died Wednesday at a drug rehab center in Marin County. A Marin County coroner's investigator said the cause of death could not be determined until toxicology tests come back, which could take 2 weeks, but said early findings point to natural causes.

The decision to hold the service at St. Stephen's, which overlooks tranquil Belvedere Lagoon, had nothing to do with the name, McNally said.

"Saint Stephen," written by Garcia and Robert Hunter, is among the band's most popular songs, though it was rarely played in concert.

Some of its lyrics--"St. Stephen will remain, all he's lost he shall regain"--were sure to resonate for fervent fans who have held impromptu memorials, public and private, since Garcia's death.

The band had tried to keep the exact time and location of the funeral private, though the family has said a larger public service is likely later.

As the service closed, the Rev. Matthew Fox, who conducted Garcia's wedding on Valentine's Day a year ago, asked the audience of about 250 to give the guitarist-composer-singer one last standing ovation, McNally said.

The roar could be heard outside.

A makeshift memorial at 710 Ashbury St. in San Francisco, where the band was born in 1964, was littered with flowers, candles and 5 marijuana joints. A letter addressed to "Jerry" on a nearby window read: "I love you, and when I die we'll jam together in Heaven and smoke out a lot."

Garcia, a diabetic, had battled drug addiction and weight for years.

The band made its name at the LSD parties thrown by Kesey and his Merry Pranksters, and the Dead and their fans always have been associated with mind-expanding substances.

A doctor who treated Garcia for nearly 3 decades said the guitarist was trying to kick a long-term heroin habit when he checked into the Serenity Knolls center.

In Washington, President Clinton expressed hope Garcia's death would help steer young people away from "self-destructive behavior" like drug abuse.

Clinton, in an interview with MTV, said he and his 15-year-old daughter, Chelsea, represent 2 generations of Grateful Dead fans.

"He was just a great talent," Clinton said. "He was a genius."

Also Friday, police arrested a 16-year-old Montana girl who allegedly stole the family car to go to Garcia's funeral.

The girl and 5 friends were stopped after they pulled into a gas station in Larkspur to refuel from the roughly 1,000-mile drive.

The teen-ager's mother had figured the girl was headed to Marin County and asked officers there to look for her, police said. (From AP)