Noir City 2018

Noir City 2018. January 26, 2018. 

It’s the Opening Night of the Sixteenth Annual San Francisco Film Noir Festival, also known as Noir City. There is some buzz outside the historic Castro Theater. I get there an hour and fifteen minutes before show time. I want to deal with Will Call and go up the street for a piece of pizza at Oz’s. People with full festival “Passport” tickets are entering the theater. There’s a reception for them on the mezzanine in the balcony. Other fans with tickets for tonight wait in line to get their favorite seats. Many are dressed in the styles of the Forties and Fifties. People are clearly excited. 

There’s plenty of time to go up Castro Street and get my slice of pizza at Oz. It’s become a bit of a ritual for me. They have some exotic toppings including ostrich and camel. It’s early on Friday night and the neighborhood is rocking. 

Back to The Castro Theater. Volunteers guide the crowd in. Inside the door a young man in suit and fedora hands me a festival guide. The guide may be half the reason I’ve come here. It’s very well done with photos, thumbnail descriptions of the films and many Noir fun facts. There are pictures of the posters and lobby cards for the films we’ll see over the next ten days. 

It’s still exciting to enter the historic Castro Theater. I work some events there during the San Francisco International Film Festival and see at least a few other films there during the year. It’s still an amazing place and the best setting for a Noir film festival.

Three female singers are onstage doing standards. The Century Singers are  wearing slinky cocktail dresses. Their only accompaniment is an electric keyboard player. They’re entertaining people while they look for seats and socialize a bit.

There’s time to check out the scene on the balcony. An area is roped off for Passport holders who are treated to samples of food, beverage and Noir related products. There is an area the public can go into, but the real party is behind the velvet ropes. The wonderful people from Green Apple have quite a spread of Noir books. New editions of Noir classics have screaming, lurid pulp covers. So many books ... 

I was standing next to two Passport holders. They perused the festival schedule hand out. “Are you doing them all?” “No, I have to do something on Thursday.” Twenty four films in ten days. That’s not as intense as what some people do during the San Francisco International Film Festival, but it’s still pretty impressive. 

The Century Singers wrap up with the City’s theme song “San Francisco.” The mighty Castro Wurlitzer rises from the orchestra pit with Matt Hagerty at the keyboard. The house organist plays while the stage is cleared of microphones and wires. We’re treated to another version of the City’s song and people clap in unison. Maybe it’s the guys and dolls in period costume. This is a real San Francisco event.

The curtains part and the festival trailer begins. The Noir clips look a little too familiar. Isn’t that a scene from the film they showed a few years back? The one about the guys driving trucks loaded with dynamite through Mexican jungle and treacherous mountain trails? I recognize the opening theme song from my current favorite TV show, Vikings. It’s the Norse call to battle. The pounding beat is quite a combination with the clips of Noir violence. My blood pressure is starting to rise ... and the screen goes dark. 

The crowd is quiet. There are a few wise cracks, but most of us just wait in the dark. A few minutes go by and the trailer starts again. When it gets to about the same spot, the screen goes dark again.

Technical difficulties are a part of festival life, but it’s still surprising how patient the crowd is. I have to admit that I did wonder, how bad are the technical difficulties?

The reassuring voice of Noir City announcer Bill Arney introduces The Czar of Noir, Eddie Muller. Muller is his usual suave, dapper self. Does anyone wear a suit better than Eddie Muller? He certainly doesn’t seem ruffled by the bad technical start. 

Muller has personally sparked the Noir revival. There are plenty of fans in the Bay Area that yearn for nostalgia, but it was Muller really who gave the genre a huge boost. He hosts Noir festivals in other cities including Los Angeles, Seattle and Chicago. He’s been getting more national exposure with his show on Turner Classic Movies: Noir City. It is aired at an unfortunate time, 7 a.m. on Sunday morning. With today’s cable TV technology it shouldn’t make a difference. Just tape it. But come on Turner Classic Movies. This show should be on at night!   

This year’s theme is Film Noir A to B. “A Dozen Double Bills! Classy As and Trashy Bs!” Younger generations don’t even know what a double feature is. Studios paired an A picture that had bigger production budgets and stars with a B picture. Usually the B picture played first. Noir City is usually a double feature anyway. It’s a step back to what going to the movies used to be like, and another of the festival’s links to the past. Muller says that a night out at the movies was a bigger deal in the old days. It was more of a social event. This year films from a certain year will be shown each night. We’ll go in chronological order from 1941 and go to 1953. What most consider the Golden Age of Noir. 

Muller explains the earlier technical difficulties. The trailer was from the 2014 Noir City: “It’s a Bitter Little World.” “They still want it to be 2014 up in the projection booth.” Most of the crowd wishes we could go back to 2014. Muller mentions why we’re really here. The goal of the Film Noir Foundation is to restore Noir films.

One of the Century Singers joins Muller onstage. He hopes she will provide a distraction from the technical difficulties. Annabelle is this year’s Ms Noir City. She attended the festival before she lived in San Francisco. Being Ms. Noir City, “Is a dream come true.” She’s an actress and singer. Muller and Annabelle talk fast. They’re probably making up some lost time from the trailer glitch. Ms. Noir calms things down by singing a song.  

Muller introduces and brings out tonight’s special guest. Victoria Mature is the daughter of Victor Mature. He’s the male lead in this year’s first film I Wake Up Screaming. She’s an attractive young woman. This is surprising. People in the audience are doing the math. 

Muller often meets the offspring of big movie stars and usually finds himself asking: What was it like being the son or daughter of a successful movie actor? How did people treat her father? How did fans treat her? Victoria says she certainly noticed how people gave her father the star treatment. She says she didn’t know her father when he was in his thirties, forties or fifties. At first I thought this was one of those Hollywood abandonment stories. Movie careers were demanding. 

The reason Victoria didn’t know her father during his stardom was that Victoria didn’t exist then. Victor Mature was sixty-two when Victoria was born. Muller exults and gives us a bit of a hip shake. “There’s hope for us all!” 
Victoria says that he agreed with critics of his acting. He used to say, "I'm a bad actor, and I have a hundred films to prove it!" 

Half the fun of Noir City is Muller’s introductions to the films. He thinks The Maltese Falcon was the first Noir film, but some make a case for I Wake Up Screaming. The third prototype Noir film was Stranger on the Third Floor.  It was originally titled Hot Spot. Director H. Bruce Humberstone made only one Noir film, but he helped define the genre.

What the first “real” Noir film was is a matter of some debate. I wondered which one was made first. Which one was released first? Does it make any difference? There were certainly crime dramas before 1941, but Muller means the classic era of Noir, 1941 to 1953. 

Muller says he’s often asked, in what city where were the most Noir films made? Most Noir films were filmed in Los Angeles. New York was second and San Francisco was third. I Wake Up Screaming was filmed in Los Angeles and has some vintage shots. He points out that in LA Noir films the camera tends to pan along a horizon. In New York the camera tends to pan up and down accenting the height of the skyscrapers in the urban jungle. 

I Wake Up Screaming starts with a panoramic view of Los Angeles. The opening music is “Street Scene” by Alfred Newman. It’s a familiar Noir theme that was used in three other films. 

Betty Grable (Jill Lynn) visits her sister at the cafe where she is a waitress. Carole Landis (Vicky Lynn) is “the hash slinger” who wants to escape the cafe and “be somebody” enjoy the high life. Betty Grable tries to talk her out of this. Sometimes the sisters look identical to me.  

A large guy lurks outside watching Landis’ every move. Her sister is concerned, but Vicky Lynn says dealing with creeps is just a part of the job! He tries to hide in the shadows and follows them home. 

Later the Victor Mature character, Frankie Christopher, comes into the cafe. He’s a promoter. “Sports, women, anything.” Frankie is a cool guy. He’s quick with handouts to those down on their luck. He’s smitten by Vicky Lynn, and who can blame him. He offers to take her out on a night on the town. There’s a bit of a Pygmalion subplot. He and a couple of his friends talk about taking someone and introducing them to high society. Would even a lowly waitress fit in? They take her to a posh nightclub, and Vicky Lynn quickly proves them correct.  

Some of the background music is the melody from Somewhere Over the Rainbow. It’s a bit surprising. I Wake Up Screaming was a Twentieth Century Fox production. Why did they use the song from an MGM classic? Muller later comments that the tune will probably give us nightmares later.  

Things go bad quickly. Frankie finds the body of Vicky Lynn. He’s standing over her when her sister walks in. It doesn’t look good. “You don’t think I did it!” 

Well, the cops do and they give him the third degree. They even use the spotlight on him. The whole deal. “Let’s go over this one more time...” 

One of the cops is the creepy guy who stalked Vicky Lynn at the start of the movie. Cornell is played by Laird Cregar. He made a career with parts like this. “So what if I’m a peeping Tom!” That’s part of his job. “I made sure she got home.”

Cornell is sure that Frankie is guilty and becomes obsessed with pinning the murder on him. He brags about how he will get him the death penalty. The cops have got nothing on Frankie and he’s free to fall in love with the “good” sister. He takes Jill Lynn/Betty Grable to her first nightclub, boxing (“We’ll sit in the gallery. That’s where the real fans are.”) and a late night swim in a public pool.   

An early suspect is Elisha Cook, Jr. He was the hapless gunsel in The Maltese Falcon. During the introduction Muller gives him special mention, reminding us that he’s a San Francisco native.  

Cook is a desk clerk. It looks like being a desk clerk in a hotel is a great slacker job. Does anyone do cowardly fear better than him? When he’s accused his wild eyes bug out. He’s already sweating. 

There are the usual Noir plot twists to try to keep you guessing. There’s much running around. Scary cop Cregar visits Jill Lynn. She says that you can’t live without hope. The cop answers, “It’s been done.”

Some scenes look familiar. This happens to me all the time with Film Noir. Maybe I saw it on TV years ago. 

Intermission. The balcony area mezzanine has been opened up for the public. Sponsors display their wares or give away samples. A young guy is passing out comic books. He’s not getting much attention with this crowd. It’s a DC book: Batman in Noir Alley. Batman meets Eddie Muller! They search for the stolen Moroccan Raptor. It’s odd to see Eddie Muller in a comic book.

The crowd is enthusiastic and it’s clear how much people enjoy the festival. Attendance seems weak for Opening Night. There’s plenty of room in the balcony. 
This year's trailer is shown and it's worth the wait. Serena Bramble creates well edited combinations of music and Noir.   

Muller is back onstage for a new feature this year. A trivia contest! We’re encouraged to sign up, but there is a warning. You have to know your Noir or you’re going to look very silly onstage. 

A young woman is this year’s first contestant. She will get three clues and then she must tell us what Noir film is being described. 

The first clue: This was the only Noir film that had a title song that became a Top 40 hit. You can guess after one clue if you really know you’re stuff and want to impress the audience. Muller reminds the crowd: No help from the audience!  

One of the main characters is a flamboyant newspaper columnist. People in the audience that know the answer are squirming.  

I have to admit I was thinking Bad and Beautiful, but she guesses right: Laura. She wins a stack of DVDs.  

The second film will be the B film of the double feature: Among the Living. Muller says it’s a cross between Horror and Noir. “It was early in the Noir game and they were still figuring things out.” It’s also Gothic. The film takes place in the South. “Where people are hidden in attics for a couple of decades.”

Muller tells us that writer Lester Cole makes some social commentary during the film. He was later blacklisted. I’m surprised there’s no mention of Dekker’s demise.

Albert Dekker plays twin brothers. They are the son of a wealthy industrialist and the founder of the town. The film opens with the father’s funeral. The lower classes are huddled outside the gates of the cemetery making snide remarks. 

Paul Raden (Dekker #1) has returned for the funeral. His brother had died when they were ten, or so he was told. The family doctor (Harry Carey) arranged for another child to be buried and he faked the death certificate. Really the brother had been thrown against a wall when he tried to defend his mother from some kind of evil advances from the father. John (Dekker #2) suffered brain damage that drove him insane. He is kept hidden in an attic room for twenty-five years.

This one is pretty wild. We first see John in the attic in a strait jacket. Black servant Pompey (pronounced Pom-pee) takes care of him. Is he all right? Will he behave if the strait jacket is taken off? 

John wants to be sure his father isn’t buried next to his mother. So that “He can’t hurt her anymore.” Pompey tells him the father is buried somewhere else, but John doesn’t believe him. He’s learned not to trust anyone during his twenty-five years of being locked in the attic. He has to see for himself! He strangles Pompey and escapes by jumping out a window. Too bad he didn’t think of that before during the previous twenty five years, but he is insane.  

It may not be the acting job of the century, but playing identical twins has to be a challenge for any actor. The “insane” Dekker, John, gets more of the screen time. Paul seems to fade into the background. Dekker didn’t get an Oscar nomination for this. I didn’t realize Paul’s wife was played by Frances Farmer until I saw her name in the credits. She doesn’t have much of a role.

We can tell the twins apart. It’s easy. The insane one hasn’t shaved. John goes into the town which looks more like New York City than a small mill town. He’s a wide eyed innocent returning to civilization. John is fascinated by seeing people, especially Millie Pickens, played by a stunning Susan Hayward. It’s easy for John to make friends. He has a big roll of money that he innocently flashes around and spends. 

Among the Living has the pacing and atmosphere of an old Horror film. I thought Bela Lugosi would pop out from behind the weeping willows at any minute. 

John seems almost normal. Being around Susan Hayward probably helps, but eventually he goes back to his insane ways. A young woman is killed and the community is outraged. A monster is on the loose! Paul is talked into offering a $5,000 reward. 

This sets the locals off into mob action. Everyone wants that reward, but they seem to just roust some of the even less fortunates. Vagrants and usual suspects are rounded up. The insane killer is standing right next to them, but he must be OK because he’s with Susan Hayward.     

Just about all the films shown at Noir City can be found online. I’ve watched some of them. They’re still absorbing, but there’s just something wrong about watching a film on a computer. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. It’s still a screen and you can’t beat the convenience. The films are usually free. There’s still nothing like seeing these films on a big screen. It’s fun to be among dedicated Noir fans and hearing the crowd’s reactions. There are laughs at unintended double entendres or slang that has a much different meaning today. 

 

 

 

 

           

The Book Launch. Hinckle and Thompson

This was an event I didn’t want to miss. Last Gasp Books and Comics was having a “Book Launch” for their ambitious publication of: “Who Killed Hunter Thompson?” I had seen mention of the event online. The Sunday Chronicle had an article about the event at the bottom of the front page. Another article inside recounted some of Warren Hinckle’s exploits: "Friends Remember Hinckle =  bar by bar.” The first bar mentioned was Cookie Picetti’s Star Buffet. That really got my attention.  

The book is an anthology with thirty contributors describing their adventures with the good Doctor. It begins with a “book length introduction” by Warren Hinckle. The heavy tome is 530 pages and weighs three and a half pounds. 

The list of contributors is too long to repeat here, but here are some that stand out for me. Susie Bright, Robert Crumb, Johnny Depp, Ben Fong-Torres, William R. Hearst III. Dan O’Neill, Paul Krassner, Garry Trudeau, Wavy Gravy, S. Clay Wilson, Tom Wolfe. Even Governor Jerry Brown gets into the act.

The book has been heralded as the long awaited appearance of “The Night Manager.” Hunter Thompson and Warren Hinckle had shared an upstairs office at the infamous Mitchell Brothers Theater. The Mitchell Brothers Theater was a revolutionary advance in the area of adult entertainment! They redefined the strip club. Hey, it was the Seventies! Hunter was hired as the night manager, but that was probably just an excuse to hang out there all the time.    

“The Night Manager” was expected to be a description of Hunter Thompson’s adventures at the theater. Fans waited well over a decade for the book. It never appeared. Dark rumors swirled. One story was that organized crime had paid him to not publish the book. “The Night Manager” was probably just a victim of Hunter’s procrastination. Ron Turner said it never got started. Gonzo journalism and deadlines just didn’t mix.

Sam Whiting’s article in the Chronicle says that after Thompson died Jim Mitchell advanced Hinckle $10,000 to work on a book about Thompson. That was over ten years ago. Hinckle was notoriously hard to work with. He usually ignored deadlines. “Who Killed Hunter Thompson” was finished hours before Hinckle passed away.     

The book launch was held at 111 Minna, an art gallery. During the day it serves as a cafe. At night it’s a bar disguised as an art gallery. The Gallery is a block from the historic Palace Hotel. Technically it is South of Market, but I think of it as being an outpost of the Financial District. Maybe in today’s tech boom it doesn’t matter anymore. The bars and restaurants I passed on the way were crowded on a Monday night. 

The gallery is on a corner where Minna, which is really an alley, meets Second Street. This event would have drawn a big crowd anyway, but the article in the Chronicle guaranteed it. I arrived early. The event started at 6 p.m. I got there about 6:15. There were a few people outside. I entered and was surprised to find the place was already packed. It was still early. Where were they going to put fashionably late arrivals?   

I had been here for the Fortieth Anniversary of Last Gasp Anniversary, but that had been held in the larger Frank Zappa room. It puzzled me why they had it in this smaller room tonight. I checked the larger room. A sign warned: “Private Event.” It must have been some big Christmas party. The Frank Zappa Room does have an impressive bust of the man himself. It’s worth a visit.   

Right inside the door there was a table with copies of the book for sale. I debated getting a copy but there were about five people in line, so that could wait. I didn’t feel like lugging it around and I'm not much for asking for autographs. Another Hunter Thompson book? Maybe I’ll at least get a look at it first.

The paintings from the Gallery’s feature show that month were hanging around the room. “Forks In The Road. The Mike Davis Solo Show” had surreal landscapes that perfectly fit tonight’s event. There were works of another artist: “It Was Written In the Future. The Beau Adams Solo Show.”   

A table held some artifacts. There was an odd figurine of Hinckle. I recognized an ad from Hinckle’s mayoral campaign. Buttons with his opponents names were stuck on piles of dog feces. “Tired of the same old crap?” Hinckle did have a down to earth sense of humor. There were pieces of original Ralph Steadman art work. 

Hunter Thompson and Hinckle came along after the heyday of the Beats in San Francisco, but I expected some of the old guard of San Francisco’s literary scene to be there. Anybody who was anybody in San Francisco’s literary scene had to be at this one! San Francisco had been losing its true eccentrics at an alarming rate. There won’t be too many more events like this.  

People seemed to know each other and there were warm greetings and reunions. What had I expected? Maybe I would spot a familiar face from the North Beach days. Wait a minute... Who’s that guy. At least I know who he is. It’s Barry Melton! The Fish from Country Joe and the Fish! Well, at least I know who he is. Jerry Cimino, the founder of The Beat
Museum in North Beach entered.

A photographer wandered through the crowd. He had a professional camera. People gladly posed for pictures, but one guy did crack, “Is this going to be posted on Face Book?” He was trying to be humorous, but I could tell that it seemed like a repulsive idea to him. I figure it probably will be posted on Face Book.

I headed to the no host bar. It didn’t look good. In fact, it looked hopeless. Three bartenders were obviously overwhelmed. I made a stand for a while. I could have used a beer, but I hadn’t come for the booze. It was a chance to survey the room. The place was packed.

Display boards with photos divided the room into parts. Tables with a seat for the contributors were placed around the room. Each spot had a card with the signers name. Few of the signers had arrived. There was a card for “Governor Jerry Brown.” If he showed up his security would love getting him in and out of here.   

Meeting an idol usually doesn’t work out. It was during the early Eighties. I was taking an afternoon break in Tosca, a great North Beach spot. Murals on the wall were covered in nicotine. There was a back room with a pool table. An empty pool table was a valuable find at the time. As the years went on Tosca became a haven for celebrities, especially writers and those in the entertainment field. The back room was closed off for VIPs. Tosca was the kind of place with both Country and Western classics and Opera on the juke box.   

  An odd looking guy was standing near the bar. I thought he looked strange, even for North Beach. He seemed to be mumbling to himself. It took me a minute to realize who he was. I knew that Hunter Thompson had been hanging around in San Francisco and that Tosca was one of his spots. 

He said something to the bartender. I couldn’t understand a word he said. He talked in an odd, staccato way. This was my chance. I offered to buy him a drink. It’s funny to think back at how naive I was.

He recoiled and looked at me like I was a repulsive insect. I was a little surprised.  Buying drinks usually worked back then. Certainly he would want to compare notes on the state of the world with me. My buddy Hunter and me weren’t like everybody else. I’d tell him what a great writer he is, and he would share his literary secrets with me. He quickly went back to the privacy of the back room. Maybe he was tripping on something. Later I figured out how many times this probably happened to him. A younger, star struck fan wanted to hang out with the great writer.   

The place was just getting too crowded. I retreated across the street to a bar called Eddie Rickenbacker’s. Rickenbacker’s had been one of the early “fern bars" in the Seventies. It was a place to pick up members of the opposite sex. There were new owners, but it still had some of its historic decor. It wasn’t extremely crowded. Young people stood at the bar and had a good time.

I had seen Hinckle around, usually in Gino and Carlo’s. There’s not too many guys who wear an eye patch, even in San Francisco. Hinckle was one of the regulars. There was some of that North Beach aloofness. Hinckle was deeply rooted in San Francisco. He edited The Fog Horn, the student paper at the University of San Francisco. His big break was transforming Ramparts. It had been a Catholic literary magazine. Hinckle put it at the center of Sixties controversy. He was one of the first to question what was going on in Vietnam. Nixon put him under government surveillance.

Hinckle was something that was called a journalist, but he was also a prankster. He loved to roast City officials, especially prissy Mayor Dianne Feinstein. He got San Francisco police so riled that they arrested him for walking his beagle, Bentley, without a leash. The harassment backfired when pictures of the incarcerated beagle ran in the newspapers.

San Francisco has many “Sister” cities. One of them is Cork. Hinckle loved to mock the local authorities. He arranged for a visit from one of Cork’s City Council in June of 1986. Usually this wouldn’t have attracted much attention, but the councilman Hinckle invited was Bernie Murphy.
Hinckle was stirring it up again. I couldn’t remember most of their shenanigans and did a Google search. There were obituaries from The Irish Independent News and The Irish Examiner of September, 2007. Murphy was an illiterate “sandwich-board man” or as he put it, an advertising agent. Cork had been hit hard by the Recession. Casey ran for the City Council. Murphy rode a protest vote and was elected by embittered voters.  

Others saw it as “a betting coup.” The odds had started at fifty to one. Heavy betting for him lowered the odds. It was suspected that solicitors bet on him and then funded his campaign. The bookies “took a hammering.” Hinckle appreciated his notoriety. He invited him to San Francisco.

Murphy said he came to get a new set of teeth, but his official mission was to promote investment in Cork. His fellow legislators didn’t feel he was “representative.” He arrived for a ceremony at City Hall with an empty suitcase. He said he would take delivery of promised aid money right then and there.

 

A report about the ceremony said they were headed to Gino and Carlo’s. They were celebrating, but I’m not exactly sure what they were celebrating. For some reason the City authorities didn’t fill Bernie’s luggage with cash. He didn’t seem to mind. There was some kind of strange Irish diplomacy going on.  

On election day The Argonaut was planted on doorsteps and distributed throughout the City. Hinckle resurrected the news paper founded by Ambrose Bierce. It was one of my favorite parts of an election. There would be articles about the election, and there were great articles on San Francisco history. I still have copies aging in a box.

I left Rickenbacker’s, crossed the street and went back to the Minna Gallery. People were starting to huddle outside the front door. I went up the alley that was next to the gallery. 

It’s hard not to recognize Ron Turner, the creator and owner of Last Gasp Publishing. He’s tall and has long, stringy white hair and beard. He looks like a Hippie elder statesman. He was with four people who looked like they were in their twenties. He was obviously pleased to have the book out. Hinckle was notorious for procrastination and ignoring deadlines. Turner must have been ecstatic to get this book done. 

It still puzzled me that they weren’t using the big room for the book launching. A couple of valets stood in front of the door to The Zappa Room. It didn’t look like anyone was there. The valets almost looked embarrassed.  

There was a side entrance and I slipped back into the Gallery. There was more room back here and I had another look. There still weren’t many signers. Few were gathering autographs. The night was certainly a success though. 

It was still early, but it was time to leave. I couldn’t figure out what, if anything was going to happen. 

The construction of the Moscone Convention Center had eradicated a strip of nearby bars that catered to newsmen. Breen’s was gone. M&M’s moved up the street, but was never really the same. They would be called dive bars now, but in older San Francisco they were respectable establishments that served those in the newspaper industry. I hit these places in my early days in San Francisco. I knew they probably wouldn’t be around long. 

I imagined Warren HInckle and Hunter S. Thompson ditching out of the book signing and going down the street to a dark and smoky bar. God knows what they would be talking about in these dark times. Thompson always had a great way of describing evil. What would he be saying about Trump? 

 

 

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass 2017

It was less than a week after the massacre on the Las Vegas strip. People at a Country and Western Festival had been gunned down. It looked like the work of a lone gunman, but even that had to make you think. How many nut jobs are there out there? 

The Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival would be held on the next weekend in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. The event is free and there are no entrances. There are no checkpoints for security checks. The Festival area is not fenced off. There would be a huge crowd with little security by today’s standards. Well, the show must go on! 

This year’s post may read more like a list. There will be some commentary. Some song titles are approximate.

Friday. October 6.

Friday is the best day to go. The crowd just isn’t as large or as intense as the rest of the weekend. Everything just seems more laid back on the first day. I went with Jack Stuber, one of the founding members of local band Cornbread Willie. We parked at 44th and Cabrillo. We park farther and farther away each year. This year my plan was to get there later and leave later. It didn’t work out that way.      

  There are only four stages going today. There’s no Towers of Gold Stage, so the first music we chanced upon was at The Swan Stage: Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors were singing “American Beauty.” Then a new song: “Family.

You can’t go wrong with Dry Branch Fire Squad. They’re one of the first acts I ever saw at HSB. It’s real Bluegrass with the band led by slow talking Ron Thomasson: “Even people that are into Bluegrass say we’re a little hard to take.” “Valley of the Gun.” “Take Me In.” 

Thomasson says that “Rock and Roll would have been impossible without Bluegrass.” He said it at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction for Bill Monroe. 

Heidi Clare is guest on fiddle. As if the music wasn’t traditional enough she does a clog dance.

We met up with Van. “It’s like the old days!” when HSB drew crowds of thirty thousand. It was still early.   

We check out Big Thief at The Rooster Stage and hear three songs: “Mary.” “Masterpiece” and “Shoulders. They sing some great harmonies.  

Chuck Prophet & The Mission Express at The Swan. They open with the first of many tributes to Tom Petty this weekend. “The Waiting.” “Waiting is the hardest part.” Prophet not only sounds like Petty, he looks like him too. 

“Bobby Fuller Died For Your Sins.” “Go All the Way.” An unknown new song. 

I still scribble song titles on a piece of paper, but in the last couple of years I’ve been using Setlist.fm more. 2016 was a “Bad Year for Rock and Roll.” 

Prophet has written some great songs about San Francisco history. Some of them are on his album The Temple. “The Left Hand and the Right Hand” is about the Mitchell Brothers. “You Did (Bomp Shooby Dooby Bomp.)” “Mausoleum.” 

There are no more printed handouts of the schedules and act biographies. They can be downloaded from the HSB web site. It makes sense, but I’ll still miss the paper. Will most ephemera be lost?

There is one big change. The Arrow Stage is now The Arrow Meadow. This is in the former Speedway Meadows that have been renamed for Warren Hellman. There are now two smaller stages. The Bandwagon stage is an RV that has been opened up to create a performance space. Next to it is the Victrola Stage. It has a huge Victrola behind the stage. Very cool. 

The Arrow Stage had been a problem traffic area. The stage and a row of food vendors created a traffic bottleneck. There were problems with the sound coming from the nearby Banjo Stage. The Arrow Stage had the more “Hippie” Sixties Grateful Dead type acts. That action seemed to be more spread out this year at the other stages. Was it one of the reasons the HSB crowd seemed more laid back this year? 

Nearby is the Silent Disco. It’s not open for business yet. The area reminds me of an empty amusement park.

Foy Vance was on the Bandwagon Stage solo with a guitar and a synthesizer. The acoustic problem wasn’t totally solved. He was sometimes drowned out by the end of Billy Bragg’s set at the Banjo Stage.  

There were understated public announcements. I never heard any mention of Las Vegas from the stage. There are announcements about the few rules every year, but I think people listened to them more this year. This year it was a little more than the “No smoking in the Park” announcement. Know the nearest park exit. That sounded nice, but I had to wonder. How much would that help if something really happened. Would people calmly look for the proper exit? Or would they crash off into the trails and  bushes? 

“If you’re at The Rooster Stage exit towards the ocean.” At least this announcement made some sense. The back of the Rooster Stage has cyclone fencing put up to accommodate the VIP golf carts. They could block a quick exit for those on the hill. 

We went back to the Rooster Stage and caught the end of The Felice Brothers. “Ghost Town.” I’ve seen them before at HSB. They’re a lively band that features an accordion. During “Where’d You Get Your Liquor?” they used some lines from “Froggy Went a Courting,” an old family favorite.

It was time to get serious about food options. There are more food vendors and trucks this year. It cut down on the lines a bit and offered even more variety. I went with a piece of pizza. 

People still dress up for HSB. They get out their cowboy clothes. There is some Halloween in the air. One guy was skating around with a gold costume and odd headgear. On his back it read: “RIP SOL.” The Summer of Love may finally be over.  

Back to The Banjo for ‘The Bo-Keys featuring Don Bryant and Percy Wiggins.” “Learned My Lesson in Love.” They’re a big band from Memphis, Tennessee and have a great R&B sound.

No alcohol is sold legally at the event, but there are entrepreneurs. One group of young men even had a sign: “HSB Beer.” As the weekend went on the forces of law and order prevailed. The few sellers left were very more cautious.  

T Bone Burnett will close today’s festivities at The Banjo Stage. Missed him last year, so that made him a priority for me.  

Walking on JFK Drive, Stuber and I spotted a guy wearing the “Hot Rod” Rowdy Roddy Piper tee shirt. We gave him high fives. “Best tee shirt of the day!” His spirit lives on! 

There would be a long wait for T Bone Burnett, so we went back to The Rooster for First Aid Kit. “It’s a Shame.” “Emmy Lou” is a song about Emmy Lou Harris.  

I’ve always liked the dark, ominous sounds of T Bone Burnett, but today’s set is puzzling. Burnett is onstage with two others, a drummer and a synthesizer. Burnett is in front of a synthesizer. I don’t see any guitars onstage. The first song is a long spoken word piece. I thought it was just an intro, but it went on and on. Burnett drones the lyrics like the voice of God. I tried to stay just to see if anything would happen, but eventually I gave up. 

Stuber commented that it seemed like he was trying to prove he could do anything onstage and his fans would approve. “River of Love.” “Trap Door.” 

We did stop on the way back to the car for some of Brandi Carlile. “This Is My Song” “I Was Made For You.” Great end to the day. 

 

Saturday. October 7.

Took the bus today and went solo. On a tip from Jack Stuber I got there in time for Gurf Morlix. With a name like that, how could I have never heard of this guy? Went up the hill on the right of The Rooster Stage. One of my first “spots” at HSB. Too much of it is fenced off now. There seemed to be technical problems setting up and getting started. Didn’t start until 12:44. “Deeper Down.” The new album is “Soul and the Heart.” We hear “Love Remains Unbroken.”  

 

Gurf looks like a crazy geezer that has come down out of the hills. He has long white hair and a ZZ Top style beard. He told a story about going to a funeral. He didn’t really know the guy that well. It was an acquaintance. The funeral was quite a production and looked expensive.  

At the reception he found himself introduced to the funeral director. He asked him about the cost of an event like this. The funeral director thundered: “Don’t you have any respect for the dead?” Gurf replied, “Upper case or lower case?” 

The music is kind of Country and Western and Rocking. Fats Kaplan is on steel guitar. 

“The next song is about a good man who did some bad things... It’s not autobiographical.” Someone in the band cracks, “But it could be!” “A Good Man Who May Have Done Some Bad Things.” 

Gurf talks about the B Major 7th chord. “It’s a pretty chord.” Then he does “My Chainsaw.” It’s one of my highlights from this year’s HSB.  

Gurf: “Some people say my songs are a bit on the dark side. I don’t think so...”

He sarcastically admits and apologizes for not sounding like John Denver or Barry Manilow. Gets a cheer from the crowd.  

Gurf talks about Warren Zevon. He knew him when he was writing “Werewolves of London.” When Zevon told a friend, Waddy Wachtel, that he was writing a song about werewolves in London Waddy immediately howled. It became the howl that is heard on the record, and Wachtel got a one third songwriting credit for the howl! Gurf plays the perfect Halloween song for San Francisco. Buddy Miller joins for this and “This May Be the Last Time,” A Blind Boys of Alabama song. 

“The Parting Glass.” 

My must for today is: Peter Rowan - Dharma Blues featuring Jack Casady. 

Peter Rowan looks ancient. It’s funny. Jack Casady has short hair, but looks almost the same as he did in the Sixties. He’s playing a large acoustic bass that does have an electric hookup.

“Raven.” “Dharma Blues” has an exquisite start. They’re really doing some great weaving here. “My Love Will Never Change.” A song about Jerry Garcia: “Jerry and the Deep Blue Sea.” “It’s a Hard Lesson to Learn.” 

Dragonflies are buzzing the Banjo Stage Area. There must be fifty of them. What is drawing them to this crowded part of the Park. Don’t they prefer water?

The brazen entrepreneurs with their “HSB Beer” sign are still here. Guys selling beer are more cautious today. The cops did chase most of them away.  

Today’s tee shirt of the day: A young woman sports an “Orgasm Donor” tee shirt. 

Phil Lesh must have been checking out his former colleague at The Banjo Stage. He’s getting a ride on one of the VIP golf carts. He slips through with few bystanders recognizing him. 

I go to the Arrow Meadow. There is a big crowd for Willie Watson at The Victrola Stage. He plays an acoustic guitar and has a synthesizer in front of him. He’s doing the old, familiar Folk tune: “If I Could Change This World.” He says that he doesn’t have that much time onstage, “I usually tell stories.” For his last song he does “The Midnight Special.” People stand, clap along and sing. He has many devoted fans here today.  

At the back of Hellman Hollow was the Silent Disco. I’d seen this at other events in San Francisco. You put on a pair of headphones and went onto a designated dance floor. I was a bit surprised at how popular it is. There were hundreds dancing around with headphones on. I’ll try this when there’s not so much live music going on. 

There are certain acts I see every year by chance. I don’t really plan on seeing them, but I happen to be walking by when they’re playing. Such is “Alison Brown and the Compass Bluegrass All Stars featuring Bobby Osborne.” I’m fading a bit and just sit in the back.  

They’ve taken out almost all the picnic tables. I realized how much I depended on them to take a little break and sit somewhere that’s not on the ground. It does make a difference. There’s nowhere to take a real break. The museums and their concessions are too far away. I thought about leaving and visiting the real world, but then I’d notice something coming up on one of the stages and decide to go for it. Hey, it’s only once a year.   

Even with six stages going there are some strange gaps in the schedule where nothing is going on. Or nothing is going on right around me. I can hear the party sound of Ozomatli coming from The Swan. The crowd already takes up the entire meadow. This used to be rare. Now it happens earlier every year. People are showing up for the later acts: Patti Griffin and Sturgill Simpson. I lounge at the back of the crowd. Never saw the stage.   

The Blue Angels roared overhead. Fleet Week and HSB had been on separate weekends for a couple of years, but not this year. 

Even though they were aggravating and drowned out some of the music I still find jet airplanes fascinating. I did get some great views of their aerial display.  

A couple of dogs started fighting. They were spooked by the jet sound and then they went after each other. The Blue Angels soared overhead. Dogs started fighting on the ground.

The Saturday crowd is larger. Robert Earl Keen was a priority. I wanted to get at least a look at the Saturday night party crowd. 

Most people tended to walk on the inner part of the JFK Drive if they were headed east. Those headed west, towards the Towers of Gold Stage tended to use the outside lane. An odd traffic herd instinct. I wound through people and crossed the road. 

It was three o’clock. I considered leaving. If I bailed, it would be the earliest I had ever left HSB. Maybe I’ll just see one more act.

The Towers of Gold Stage has a steep hill that runs along one side of the meadow. There is a view of the stage where Jamey Johnson was playing. I had seen him last year in a similar situation. Just get a spot on the hill and get out of the human traffic. He had a big band with him that looked slick and professional. This was real Country and Western. A change of pace for me.    

They were doing their Petty tribute as I got settled. “Southern Accents” “Room at the Top” “Mary Jane’s Last Dance.” 

“In Color.” I’ll have to track that song down. They cover the Grateful Dead’s “Friend of the Devil.” Another original: “Willin.’” A great version of The Band’s “The Shape I’m In.”

They cover Jerry Reed’s “Eastbound and Down.” This could be the greatest trucking song ever. “We’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there.” 

One of the few real eccentrics left in San Francisco is Frank Chu. He wanders big events like this with a sign warning of alien invasions. He’s still making the scene, but his clothes are torn and frayed. How long can his quixotic quest go on?  

Usually Robert Earl Keen closed The Rooster Stage on Saturday night. There was more room for the party crowd here at the Towers of Gold Stage. The crowd didn’t seem as rowdy. Was it because everyone wasn’t jammed into the smaller Rooster Stage area? Maybe it was because it wasn’t dark yet. I was able to walk through the crowd and get closer.  

I still scribble song titles while I’m at HSB, but now I turn to setlist.fm for guidance. Keen opens with the Grateful Dead song, “Casey Jones.” 

“The Man Behind the Drums.” Keen’s tribute to Levon Helm.

Keen sure sounds like Dylan. He’s barking the lyrics at us. 

“The Rose Hotel.” “Dreadful Selfish Crime” segues into “I Know You Rider.” “If I Were King.” “Shades of Gray.” “Feelin’ Good Again.” This is where I take off.

I’ve learned to look before I leap at HSB. I looked down JFK Drive. There was a  mass of humanity. Yeah, I could get through it eventually, but I opted for the longer route that goes around the Polo Fields. A flock of large geese foraged on the football fields. 

Heard the last song of Buddy Miller at The Rooster Stage. It was tempting to stay for Dan Auerbach. (The Black Keys) but a large crowd was gathering for the last act of the day here. It had been another full day and I bussed it home in time to see Steve Earle and the Dukes online. 

I’ll say it again, live is much better, but it’s hard to beat being able to sit in a chair and see what’s going on onstage. “City of Immigrants” “Warren Hellman’s Banjo” “Dominick Street/The Galway Girl” “Harlan Man” “The Mountain.” “Jerusalem” “Copperhead Road.” 

There was the odd Dragnet beginning to “San Franciscan Nights.” This made up for Eric Burdon not playing it at Stern Grove. The fiftieth Summer of Love was coming to an end. “ Transcendental Blues.” “Fixin’ To Die” “Hey Joe!” Another version of “I Know You Rider.” Funny how some songs keep popping up.

Another powerful performance by Steve Earle with his usual political statements.

      

Sunday. October 8.

Arrived at The Rooster Stage at 11:30 for part of The Secret Sisters. “You Don’t Own Me Anymore.”   

The Secret Sisters were too nice for me. Hot Tuna at the Banjo Stage was my top priority today. I got there in time to see the end of The Sons of the Soul Revivers,  “The Gospel sensations.”   

Hot Tuna Electric. 12:15. It’s still great to see Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Cassidy play in Golden Gate Park. This is where it all happened. 

Bubbles swirled in the air. Got there in time for “Trial By Fire.” “I Just Can’t Be Satisfied.” “Talkin’ About You,” a song once covered by The Rolling Stones.   

They’re quite a power trio, with Justin Guip on drums. 

Between songs someone says, “Tuning is overrated.” Pretty sure it was Jorma.

“Bowlegged Woman, Knock-Kneed Man.” “Watch the North Wind Rise.” “Funky #7.”  

The MC after the set: “Let’s hear it for Hot Tuna. They play something old and aways make it new and challenging.” 

A guy walked around with a large sign: Free Destiny Readings. I saw him later with a guy who wore a tall wizard hat. Guess he was drumming up business for him. 

There was a half hour before the next act, Dave Alvin & The Guilty Ones. This was a good chance to visit the smallest stage, The Porch Stage. The Sisters Morales were getting tuned up. “The World Goes Around and Around.” Even the acts on the smallest stage have to be talented. The acts that perform on The Porch Stage could make a great event on their own! 

Dave Alvin & The Guilty Ones is another act that I see almost every year. It’s usually a case of convenient scheduling. He’s got one of those great soothing show business voices. “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen ...”

Alvin dedicates the first song to flood victims across the country. It’s a Big Bill Broonzy song: “Southern Flood Blues.” Then into: “Haley’s Comet.” 

Alvin says the next song is “A thirties political song. It’s as true today...” “This World Is In a Bad Condition.” It was originally done by The Golden Gate Jubilee Quartet.   

Alvin admits that anyone who has recorded this next song sings it better than he can, “But I wrote it!” “Long White Cadillac.”

“Johnny Ace Is Dead.”

Next is “an existential song” that Alvin says he’s never done at HSB. “Out of Control.” His brother usually sings it. Are they feuding again? The first line is, “I scored some speed in San Berdino...”

“Fourth of July.” A cover of Spirit’s “I Got A Line On You.” 

I made an attempt to see “Lampedusa Featuring Steve Earle, Patty Griffin, Emmy Lou Harris, Buddy Miller, Lucinda Williams.” From the HSB biographies handout: “Lampedusa is part of a series of shows that aim to raise awareness of the 65 million displaced people around the world as a result of war, conflicts and disasters.” 

This was being held at The Rooster Stage. It was a poor choice for an act with this star power. Thousands streamed in. It was the largest crowd I’ve ever seen at The Rooster Stage. I lurked way in the back during “Refugee” another tribute for Tom Petty. It was just too crowded. 

I got a “Bacon Melt” from one of the food vendors near The Rooster Stage. I found a spot and took a total break from the crowds. I could hear the rocking sounds of Nelson & Promise of the Real coming from the Swan Stage. “Die Alone.” “Four Letter Word.” Another Tom Petty tribute: “American Girl.” “Runnin’ Shine.” “High Times.” “Something Real.” “Forget About Georgia,” a breakup song about a woman, not the state. “Find Yourself.” The singer talked about being in Neil Young’s band. 

The Flatlanders. Joe Ely, Jimmie Dale Gilmore & Butch Hancock.  

I should know the songs better by now. Well, I do just see them once a year. Usually they played the now gone Arrow Stage on Saturday night. Today they’re at The Banjo Stage. There’s still plenty of room, but it didn’t have that Saturday night vibe.       

“Reap What You Sow.” “Standing at the Station.” “From the Cradle to the Grave.” “Julia.”  

There is more Blue Angels jet action today. We get buzzed.  

I reconnoitered near the back of the Swan Stage. Some millennial buskers formed a circle near me. Several were in HSB fashion. Straw hats and blue jean bib overalls. Somehow I knew they just didn’t step off the farm. They had a couple of guitars, a banjo and a mandolin. I’ll admit that I thought they would be an aggravation, but they did know what they were doing. “Rolling In My Sweet Baby’s Arms.” Those close enough to hear gave them a round of applause.

A former floor colleague had tipped me about Courtney Barnett (Thanks Cliff!) so I knew about the female rocker from Down Under. She’s teamed with Kurt Vile in a new band: The Sea Lice. I just love that name: Kurt Vile.

The set list from setlist.fm: “Over Everything.” “Fear Is Like A Forest.” “Continental Breakfast” A couple of Courtney Barnett songs: “Out of the Woodwork” “Avant Gardener” “On Tour (A Kurt Vile song) “Depreston” “Untogether.”  

Courtney and Kurt wore matching plaid shirts. I’m sure there’s a joke there somewhere. How Grunge can you get?

It was deep into the “Hardly” part of HSB. After the Grunge set it wasn’t that far back to the Towers of Gold for Cheap Trick. Would every former juvenile delinquent at HSB head for this area? I got a spot on the hill. An audio tape took us through the history of the band, concluding with the question: “Are you ready for the greatest fucking Rock and Roll band in the world?”

“Hello There.” “Big Eyes.” “California Man” “Ain’t That A Shame” a cover of the Fats Domino song. “Baby Loves to Rock” with “Long Time Coming.” 

Cheap Trick’s antics were amusing, but after a while I made a move. There was a long bass solo. They did a cover of “I’m Waiting For the Man” a Velvet Underground song. Guess it’s back to the roots.  

I don’t listen to much radio now, but I do check out Grinder’s Grooveyard on local radio station KPOO on Monday nights. Rockin’ Jim Grigsbee has been a longtime DJ and record collector. 89.5 FM. Every show is a look at music history. One Monday night, he played a wild instrumental by one Junior Brown. I did some research on Youtube and found wild footage of him playing live. He would close this year’s festivities on The Rooster Stage!

Junior Brown plays a “guit-steel” double neck guitar. It’s an electric guitar with a steel pedal guitar. It creates a wild, rowdy, roadhouse sound. Junior sure looks like an original good old boy. “Who’s ready for some twanging?”

“Party Lights.” “The party is over for me.” “Lifeguard Larry.” A hilarious “My Wife Thinks You’re Dead. “I Hung It Up.” “Long Walk Back From San Antone.” “Freeborn Man.” “Deep In the Heart.” “Another Honky Tonk Burned Down.”

It’s not as crowded here as earlier in the day. I can easily walk up to the sound tent for a good view. HSB seems to be winding down. Many are headed to the 25th Avenue exit. Junior does have many fans left, and he’s rocking the place. The songs are short.  

“Between Anger and Despair.” “Guit-Steel Blues.” “Highway Patrol.” “Give Me a Little Old Fashioned Love.” “The Better Half.” “I Wouldn’t Buy a Used Car From Him.” “Hang Up and Drive.” “Blues Power.” “Surf Medley.” “So Close Yet So Far Away.”

What better way to end this year’s Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival than Junior’s cover of Johnny Rivers’ “Secret Agent Man.” 

Got home in time to see some of Lucinda Williams online. Going three days in a row is a little crazy, but it’s close to my neighborhood.  

It could have been an odd year at HSB after the tragedy in Las Vegas. As the weekend went on people seemed to forget about it. I know I did. The threat of terrorism means things will never be the same. It was a bit of a relief that nothing happened.