Remembering Rock Impresario Bill Graham

Laurie Cohn

Mirror contributing writer

   Some of the greatest times in my life were spent at Grateful Dead concerts. From my first show in Long Beach in 1981 to my last in 1993 at the Los Angeles Sports Arena (with many dozens in between), a Dead show was always a surefire way to feel happy and free, even if I had a final exam the next day. The Dead provided an arena where I could dance uninhibited while listening to my favorite music, keep set lists for future reference, and meet great people from all over the country. And seeing them on New Year's Eve, well, life never got any better than that. 
   So it was with great enthusiasm I went with my mom to see Ron Silver in the one-man show -- "Bill Graham Presents" at the Canon Theatre in Beverly Hills. Bill, or Uncle Bobo, as The Dead's Bob Weir once christened him, single-handedly revolutionized concert-going. Though called a capitalist and hated by many free-spirited hippies because he charged money to get into his clubs, he cared about the music, the bands, the audiences, and did everything he could do make each evening a memorable one. He introduced youngsters to old blues legends by mixing them on the same bill with contemporary bands, and he often gave fledgling rock & roll groups their first big performing break. 
   Uncle Bobo made money before it was fashionable, but what a lot of those first generation hippies refused to acknowledge was the bands were making money, too. But Bill put money back into his clubs, and he always had excellent public address systems, which benefited both the concert-goers and the groups on stage. He wasn't greedy and presenting great music was always his priority, something lost on most concert promoters and record industry executives today. If you've ever been to either Fillmore (San Francisco or New York), Winterland, or Wolfgang's, you've been in Bill Graham territory. I saw The Allman Brothers at the Fillmore East when I was about five. Great show. If you ever saw "The Last Waltz," "Live Aid," or The Rolling Stones 1981 tour, you've seen what this one man was capable of putting together. 
   New Year's Eve with the Grateful Dead was always Bill Graham's special night. The hall was decorated with balloons, and he would make some sort of grand entrance at midnight, even dressing up as Father Time if the spirit moved him. But then Chinese New Year was special too, with extra surprises, as was Valentine's Day, and so on. He loved all kinds of music, but The Dead were his favorite band, as well as his friends. I once passed him in the crowd after a Dead show in Oakland and said "thanks." He responded with a nod, a short answer, and an almost smile then headed on his way. 
   Mom and I wondered what kind of crowd would be attending the play. It was a mixture, but definitely there were more people her age (and even older!) than mine. I haven't been to the Canon Theater in years. When I was about ten I saw "Gimme Shelter" there with my dad, the concert film of Altamont. The Altamont nightmare was discussed during "Bill Graham Presents." The event was not produced by Bill Graham. Had it been, it's pretty safe to say the Hell's Angels would not have been handling security and one man wouldn't have been stabbed to death by an Angel. 
   Ron Silver's performance was dazzling from the moment he walked on stage, and whether he was talking, dancing, or eating his "happy cookies," the seamless monologue had the audience fully captivated. Highlights of Bill Graham's life told through a stream of consciousness tale was a trip back through many memorable times of the past fifty years -- the Holocaust, the Catskills, the Korean War, the burgeoning music scene in San Francisco, and the rise of MTV. The music before and during the show was perfect -- Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, Big Brother and the Holding Company, Jimi Hendrix, and The Staples Singers just to name a few. The psychedelic poster art and brief light show made me nostalgic for the good old days, some of which occurred before I was old enough to participate. 
   Bill Graham was known to have an explosive personality, and locked horns with lots of people throughout his life, but then, getting things done the right way isn't always easy, especially when the right way is new. I used to ride my bike by Bill's house "Masada" in Mill Valley, on a quiet hill in Marin County, where Janis Joplin's tambourine was one of his prized possessions. When he died in a helicopter crash, it seemed oddly fitting -- a fiery death for a passionate man. I was one of the approximately half-million people who attended his memorial in Golden Gate Park where band after band took the stage to pay and play tribute to the man who changed the live music experience forever. "Bill Graham Presents" is a thoughtful reminder of the powerful contribution one person can make to the world. Thanks, Uncle Bobo.