The First Nine Days of June 1977
June
1: The
Grateful Dead movie premiers in Manhattan’s Ziegfeld Theatre. After the band’s
“Farewell” concerts of 1974, Garcia headed off to a house in Mill Valley with
over 125 hours of raw footage from their last Winterland stand. Over the next
two years, Garcia poured his heart and soul into this endeavor, as well as over
a half million dollars from the band’s coffers. This was Garcia’s baby, and he
spent more time on the making of the movie than any other artistic project of
his career. Deadheads loved it, rock critics gave it mixed reviews, and
predictably, there was no public demand for it. The movie was a short term
financial fiasco. The film quietly, and gradually, became a midnight matinee
classic, and matured into a masterpiece—the branding of the Grateful Dead
experience. This quintessential and timeless documentary was born on the first
day of June, 1977.
June
2: Stuck
inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues again, Elvis Presley performs American
Trilogy for the last time during his final tour.
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| Mobile, Alabama |
June
3: Deadhead,
Bill Walton, the best basketball player on the planet, leads the Portland
Trailblazers to a crucial 110 – 104 victory over the Philadelphia 76ers in the
City of Brotherly Love. After falling behind the mighty Sixers 2-0 in the
series, Walton led his team to a pair of convincing wins at home, and then on
this night, the Trailblazers stunned Philly in the Spectrum. Schooled by Wooden
and inspired by Garcia, Walton was now one win away from basketball
immortality.
June
4: After a rather
productive month touring east of the Mississippi River, the San Francisco
prophets return to the Burning Shore for an evening in the Fabulous Forum, home
to Kareem Abdul Jabbar and the L.A. Lakers. There was a roaring “Music Never
Stopped” and the West Coast debut of Estimated Prophet > Eyes of the World, but
when the fragile essence of “China Doll” sizzled into a turbocharged “Not Fade
Away,” it was obvious that the Dead’s upcoming Winterland run was bound to be
as brilliant as their ’74 residency in Bill Graham’s ballroom.
June
5: Bill
Walton filleted and smoked Dr. J and the Philadelphia 76ers as the Portland
Trailblazer won their first and only NBA Championship. Walton did it all—23rebounds,
20 points, eight blocks and seven assists. When Walton wasn’t swatting away shots,
he was firing precise outlet and bounce passes leading to easy buckets. Walton’s
bank shots kissed glass before swishing through nothing but net. When the final
second ticked off the clock, the crowd instantly stormed on to the floor in a
chaotic victory celebration/ stampede. Rowdy crowd celebrations were the norm
in the Seventies. 
6-6-77:
Trailblazermania! The parade in Portland.
June
7: The
Grateful Dead kick off a three night run at the Winterland Ballroom as
Deadheads in select East Coast and West Coast theatres enjoy the Wall of Sound
and the ’74 Winterland shows via the Grateful Dead movie. The band simplified
their sound system and tightened up their jams, but their energy and creative
will surged. The times they were a-changin’ as the almighty ’77 hammer slammed
down upon the Winterland.
The post drums segment on opening
night was immense. The introductory “Samson” solo relentlessly raged on and on,
conjuring up visions of Bill Walton, who may have been on hand for the show.
After showing off their new anthem, “Terrapin Station,” Garcia struck the Holy
Chord signaling “Morning Dew.” It’s a thunderous version, one of the elite Dews
from a memorable year. A bone-crunching “Around and Around” pounding closed the
set. It had been an average affair prior to drums, but the Dead rallied in
heroic fashion. They were masters at savaging a shaky show.
June
8:
There’s nothing like an epic ’77 “Sugaree,” and Garcia and mates bless the
second night at Winterland with a barn burner in the second hole. Jerry shines
during the second solo, lots of slicing and dicing and blazing chord fanning.
If this where a prize fight, the referee would have stepped in to stop it. The
other extraordinary highlight from this show is a gripping and leisurely stroll
through “Eyes of The World.” The band consciously slows down the pace and
savors the journey.
June
9: This
is an excerpt from Grateful Dead 1977: The Rise of Terrapin Nation
Everything was
lined up perfectly for the final show at the Winterland on 6-9-77. Now it was
up to the Grateful Dead to play the songs that they’d yet to break out during
this California stint, and to mix in other gems that were not played the night
before. On this Saturday night, Stevie Wonder’s “Sir Duke” was the number one
song in the land, and Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors
topped the album charts. These were glorious days for American music. In the
world of boxing, on June 9, 1977, Larry Holmes won a decision over Ken Norton
to capture the WBC Heavyweight crown, and on the same day, ex-Beatle George
Harrison and Patti Harrison got divorced. In the Winterland Ballroom on June 9,
there were no hassles or squabbles, just music, sweet music filling the air—a
performance that is one of the undisputed heavyweight shows of the year. 
It all begins with
“Mississippi Half Step Uptown Toodeloo.” The music thunders and gives off a
warm glow at the same time. Sloppiness is not an option as the band surges
forward. I don’t know how a group of musicians can be more in sync with each
other. Garcia unleashes a tremendous final solo as his mates feed off the
inspiration. A great start is chased by “Jack Straw” from Wichita, probably the
best ‘77 version to date. The bar has been set high, but as the Grateful Dead
run through a set that includes “They Love Each Other,” “Cassidy,” “Sunrise,”
“Deal,” “Looks Like Rain,” and “Loser,” everything is album worthy, and
Garcia’s in the moment with each solo. The set-ending “Music Never Stopped” is
hotter than kung pao chicken, and the best is yet to come.
A slamming “Samson
and Delilah” kicks off the second frame. It’s not as wild as the one two nights
earlier, but it’s a potent rock and roll creation without an ounce of fat.
Nothing on this night wanders aimlessly, but there’s an abundance of satisfying
improvisation. The sonic landscape is dynamic and dominant—it’s the beginning
of a new era for the Grateful Dead as they conquer a new generation of fans
without alienating the old guard. This isn’t easy to do. Just ask Bob Dylan;
although in his case, he wasn’t keen on building bridges or mending fences with
critics or fans. He mastered the art of challenging his audiences. The Grateful
Dead clearly shifted their playing philosophy after the hiatus, but the change
was subtle enough not to offend their loyal fan base, although the band could
almost do no wrong in the eyes of Deadheads.
Following “Samson
and Delilah,” Weir announces, “Our highly efficient and trained crack equipment
team is busy at work making sure everything is just exactly perfect.” This is
good news for fans of the “Funiculi Funicula” tuning. In the divine scheme of
things, if everything happens for a reason, then “Funiculi Funicula” was born
for this moment. The instrumental’s buoyant and carefree, and it’s obvious the
band’s getting off, and everybody in the Winterland has a happy heart.
Technical difficulties never sounded so sweet. The little waltz winds down and
Weir proclaims, “Ladies and gentleman, we have a winner.” Indeed! 6-9-77
wouldn’t be the same without the “Funiculi Funicula” bridge between “Samson”
and the beloved trifecta opening of Blues
For Allah.
“Help on the Way”
kicks in like a heart skipping a beat—soulful anticipation full of promise
rings sharply—jazzy riffs—Paradise waits.
On a crest of a wave her angels in flame.
Garcia and Hunter—inspired. This “Help On The Way” is as good as it gets, and
then the “Slipknot!” ascension begins. Jerry, Bobby, Phil, Keith, Mickey, and
Billy dart off to lands where only jazz legends roam: Coltrane, Miles, Monk.
This summertime Winterland exploration is metallic and dark, a spiritual voyage
linked to something past but not forgotten—the continuation of an eternal jam.
The ghosts of Coltrane seem to find their way into every “Slipknot!” I envision
Coltrane in a dark suit blowing his horn through a smoky haze in a dimly lit
room on 52nd Street. Suddenly, we’re back in the Winterland Ballroom and the
Dead are whipping through the intricate transition to “Franklin’s Tower.” No
band delights in a segue like these guys, and this segue is July 4th fireworks
and the New Year’s Eve countdown rolled into one. The ensuing “Franklin’s” is a
seventeen-minute breakout aerobics session. That 1974 Winterland crowd from The Grateful Dead movie got weird with
the best of them, but the dancing and spinning must have been outrageous on
6-9-77. Garcia’s singing is hyped towards the end: “I want you to roll away the
dew. Yoouuuu better roll away the dew. Come on come on rollaway the dew!” This “Franklin’s”
is superior to the one three nights earlier in the L.A. Forum. A grandiose
“Slipknot!” transition is the best medicine for “Franklin’s Tower.”
“Estimated
Prophet” ignites the next segment with nuclear efficiency. There’s no spare
parts or easy ballads in this set. Garcia scuba-dives through Lake Paradise
during the Rasta/jazz outro. “Estimated” and “Slipknot!” are cousins inspired
by the same muse. Jerry’s absorbed in the sonic sensations—the jam gets out
there…too far gone to return. “Estimated” travels through time and space until
it shakes hands with the past, “St. Stephen.” The transition is smooth and
exquisitely understated. The intro explodes and extends. Garcia and crew skid
down an icy runway in command, and wildly out of control at the same time. The
first two solos are brazen and longer than usual. In Cornell, a standalone
“Estimated” is followed by “St. Stephen.” This Estimated > St. Stephen
hook-up is outstanding—a cosmic connection that should have happened more
often. “St. Stephen” dives into “Not Fade Away,” and things heat up pretty good
until the drummers change the flow with raging percussions.
The “St. Stephen”
reprise materializes out of drums, but it lacks the creative noodling and
suspense of the Cornell reprise. A brisk “Terrapin Station” pops out of “St.
Stephen.” The true tenderness of the anthem isn’t captured here, yet the power
of the instrumentation is stunning—the almighty ‘77 hammer pounds away during
the “Terrapin” refrain. “Sugar Magnolia” is the final destination of this
express train. Totally drained, the Grateful Dead still manage to give up a
double encore of “U.S. Blues” and “One More Saturday Night.” The energy of
“U.S. Blues” is unreal, like a victorious warship rushing home through peaceful
waters. The Grateful Dead delivered a fantasy set list for the ages—ballads and
dirges never had a chance. This performance best embodies the unrelenting
professionalism and muscular sound of ‘77—that bulldozer effect. And 6-9-77 is
a snapshot into the future, a blueprint for the way the band wanted things to
be; except the future rarely sounded this alive again.
