To supplement our Jerry Garcia coverage, we additionally had some of our editors, frequent contributors and friends submit Garcia-related stories of their own for our Appendix column. Again we got more blazin material than our magazine could handle. Here are two entries that didn't make it to print.
The Grateful Dead Hour Cities 97 (KTCZ), Minneapolis, MN
Jerry Garcia is the reason I can make a decent blueberry muffin. When I was in high school I worked at an ice cream café with some kids who would huff the propellant out of the empty whip cream canisters in the walk-in fridge and put on Cities 97, which carried the syndicated Grateful Dead Hour on Monday nights, playing various Dead live shows. One night Jerry switched his guitar synth into pseudo-saxophone mode in the middle of “Dark Star” and this guy stumbled out of the fridge talking about how it was a guitar but also a saxophone but still a guitar. I think that was when I decided to take a job as the café’s weekend baker, which involved going to work before the sun came up. Alone.
The Grateful Dead “Althea” Go To Heaven (Arista 1980)
In ’96 I went for a dorm stay at Oberlin and the admissions department paired me with one of the school’s few northern Kentucky jocks. It turned out he had an away game, so he tried to pawn me off on his roommate who wasn’t even weird in a fun way, just ineffectual and discomforting. Luckily the guys in the quad at the end of the hall took me in and that night I sat in their common room listening to the Kids soundtrack and Sonic Youth’s Dirty. We played Killer Instinct and watched the first half of Naked Lunch. Though similar pursuits would dominate my college years (not in Oberlin), at one point that night I heard “Althea” bleeding in from the stereo of the quad’s ostracized roommate, an OCD-type who bragged about having over 300 bootlegs and took too much pride in the quality of his grass. The song wafted like the crooked smoke from a joint of what you think is one kind of dope, but is really the other. Starting right then, “Althea” became my new go-to Grateful Dead jam and has maintained that position until today. Back home in Oakland my then-girlfriend and I listened to "Althea" a ton. Her dad, a Unitarian Universalist minister, had Go To Heaven on vinyl. There’s a great story about him going to see Frank Zappa at the Fillmore on LSD, but I’ll save that for another issue.