Everyone’s friend Corry, the arcane archivist beyond the redoubtable Lost Live Dead and Hooterollin’ Around, sends in this perfect piece of Grateful Dead history: this clipping is from the November 18th, 1968 Eugene Register-Guard and is the first concrete evidence of a lost show that took place two nights before. There is no setlist, nor is there any recording, but there were always rumors of a show that night. Plus, there was a poster.
It looked like this:
“We should go see that band from San Francisco on Saturday night, man.”
“Definitely. Where do we get tickets?”
“The jewelry store.”
“It’s 1968. Nothing makes sense.”
The past is a foreign country, Younger Enthusiasts.
Anyway, the poster was all there was, and Corry found that by accident. The show’s still not listed on any of the master lists, but that article up top isn’t an article: it’s a magic spell. Arrange the words right and reality changes. This is the nature of magic. Words in this order marry two people; words in that order arrest one. The Riot Act is a magic spell, and so is this article. Where before there did not, now exists 11/16/68.
The Grateful Dead had achieved full bushiness of their league even as early as 1968; their bush leagueness had already extended outwards to encompass their fans and, as we see here, their terrorists.
It had to be Bobby. If Billy had picked it up, he wouldn’t have “indicated it was a fake.” He would have chased people around the hall with it, shrieking in mock horror “WE’RE GONNA GO BOOM!”
No, it was Bobby.
“It’s, uh, just some broomsticks.”
“DROP THE BOMB, HIPPY!”
“Oh, uh, hey, Mr. Police Man. I like your gun.”
“PUT THE BOMB DOWN!”
“I told you, man. It’s a dud.”
“Hey, Weir! That an alarm clock?”
“Well, toss it on over! The ol’ Pig forgot to pack his!”
“Oh, sure. Here you go.”
“STOP THROWING THE BOMB AROUND, LONGHAIRS!”
And so on.