Whoopee!

Note: I have to write this post the evening before. So I won’t be including the usual additional prompts. I have an early doctor’s appointment, so that’s the hurry.

I’ve written about my early years in many other posts. I didn’t conceal how hard they were, but the adversity was balanced by some of the best friendships and interesting experiences of my life.

I got to play as a folksinger in New York City’s Greenwich Village. Yes, I met Bobby, but I also met some people whose names are probably not recorded who had a great impression on me. It’s the scene that moves things, not the big people who glide through once in a while. 99% of the really hip, talented people attracted to a place like the Village remain largely anonymous while creating great art, music and literature. Most will never “make a name” and hardly care.

We used to get together for parties and talk music and art at somebody’s loft where they painted – watch where you sat down. The evening might start with an impromptu tour of the new work and what it represented. The wine of the night was a saucy little off-vintage that we could buy cheap, but nobody cared. IN the back room, some weed might be smoked near the bathroom’s toilet. The fuzz wouldn’t be around, but there were no chances taken. The collation was a selection of the finest cheap cheese and saltines. For guests like me it might have been dinner.

Things started to roll with the conversation. What was new in the galleries this week. Who was seen that had previously split the scene, and was back in town. Of course, they were keeping a low profile to avoid being spotted by the fuzz, the ex, the dealer, or all of the above.

Then there were discussions on “splitting for the Coast” – San Francisco mostly. None of us had been, and the rumors were hard to check up on. but it was seen as a magic kingdom for Folkies like us. A Promised Land of Milk and Honey.

Finally, somebody would pull an instrument out, and small groups and individuals would play. It was a great place to introduce a ne piece before trying it on stage.

If you didn’t want to join the music circle, there would usually be a circle of folks in the kitchen. Politics, art commissions, what the Fuzz were doing, and who got busted. None of us were wealthy, so money and how to get it were big topics.

Things broke up around four AM, if the Fuzz didn’t show up before on a noise complaint because of the music. Some of us who had no place to sleep might wind up on the mattresses stored on the roof. Not nice, and to be avoided!

So that’s it. Not really too different than parties you’ve been at, except that it was in the wild and woolly Village.