 |
| Available On Ugly Things Records |
|
|
 |
| Available On Ugly Things Records |
|
|
The Innocent Side Of Craziness
Hollywood & The Inland Empire Music & Scene
By Greg Eckler
Just getting through this life is enough of a challenge but from an editorial standpoint, a precise documentation of life could be the even greater challenge. It's called history and the scribe who takes it upon his or her self to cover a subject in depth is really ‘on the hook’ to get it right. After all, the reader today becomes the believer tomorrow, no pressure. I’m not a historian; just an observer with opinions. I tell it as I remember it and comment on it. My recall is good and yet like all of us, there’s times and places that completely elude me. That’s when I contact my musician buddies, Allen Henninger from The Bush and Bob Anglin from The Light, or Ugly Things magazine editor/publisher, Mike Stax. One or the other of them fills in the blanks. Thanks, guys.
The following commentary chronicles the Inland Empire bands I played with from 1965 through 1968 and the Hollywood shows and bands during those years that affected me in some way.
|
 |
| Greg Eckler While With The Bush |
|
|
Remembering the Inland Empire - 1964-1968
Southern California’s “Inland Empire”, the San Bernardino and Riverside area, was known for good bands and musicians in the '60s, a number of who went on to achieve success. Concerts or clubs where these performers could be heard in their pre-famous days were scattered about and you might travel miles to get from one ‘happening’ to another. I can’t call to mind an Inland Empire club ‘scene’ unless perhaps someone was willing to drive for miles in dot connecting fashion between the two large counties and create their own scene.
San Bernardino in the early '60s was a blue collar town. Kaiser Steel Mill in Fontana, the Santa Fe Railroad, and Norton Air Force Base provided many jobs for a huge influx of middle class people. The music du jour was primarily country and western. If you went out for an evening of dinner, drinks and dancing, you went to a honky-tonk club. Through the mid-'60s, named country entertainers would show up at small dinner theaters and beer bars in the San Bernardino area. ‘All American’ radio station KRNO hosted many of the country stars who came to town. From 1964 through mid-1965, I was drumming for my surf band, The Defiants and was also a DJ at KVCR radio in San Bernardino. Country music pretty much dominated the format and only singers such as Johnny Mathis, Jerry Vale, Perry Como or daring newcomer, Tom Jones, were the acceptable deviation. I was not allowed to play The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Dave Clark Five, or any British beat music.
By 1966 that all changed; the Invasion having prevailed even in the Inland Empire. But venues for original groups were few and far between. Large places like the Civic Auditorium in downtown San Bernardino and the National Guard Armory in Riverside were home to Dick Dale and The Del-Tones who hosted ‘Surfers Stomps’ as early as 1963. Another large arena sized place, the Swing Auditorium, centerpiece for the National Orange Show, brought in big names once a year to headline the annual citrus event. Eventually it became an outlet for ongoing rock concerts. This is where The Bush opened for The Stones on their first ‘official’ U.S. tour in 1965. The Kaiser Dome, where the Light opened for The Doors in 1967, was near the Swing also on the Orange Show grounds and had concerts on a regular basis.
In the nearby mountain resorts, Lake Arrowhead Village had a pavilion overlooking the lake that featured headliner pop groups and there was a small rock club called the Back Door adjacent to it. Over time there were more small clubs, beer bars like the Hofbrau, King of Hearts and the Knight Club, where young local musician Sammy Hagar honed his craft with cover tunes. Later on, Harry's Roller Rink, a landmark roller skate palace and the Branding Iron, both on South ‘E’ Street, San Berdoo’s main cruiser route, hosted some original pop bands, though the Branding Iron was mostly country music. But the biggest plus for San Bernardino in the mid-'60s was the two, highly competitive rock stations, KFXM and KMEN, referred to as, “pirate stations” because they played songs that had yet to enter into L.A. rotation. This worked great for local original bands.
Riverside was a bit more contemporary with concert halls and numerous clubs where aspiring bands or big name groups could be heard. It seemed like Riverside had more outlets for rockers than its country cousin across the Main Street wash. There was a State College in Riverside, the University of California at Riverside (UCR), which had a large concentration of the young and the restless in need of entertainment. Starting from UCR, which held concerts regularly, and moving west, given the span of years 1965 through 1968, one could find the Hi Ho Club, the Hat Factory, the Gasser, the Mystic Eye, the Purple Haze, and other clubs whose names escape me. Although this was not an official scene or strip, these places both appeased the nocturnal party animals and were a proving ground for some very good original bands of the time like The Misunderstood, Buddy Reed’s Southside Blues Band and The Whatt Four, to name a few. The Bush also fared well in Riverside.
|
 |
| The Bust At The Hi-Ho Club: Al Henniger, Wayne Gondos, Steve Hoard, Brent Cartwright, Dave Hoard and Greg Eckler |
|
|
The Bush: The premier garage rock band from Rialto, California released three singles on Hiback Records between 1965-1966 and performed numerous concerts and shows throughout Southern California, including the Inland Empire and the Hollywood ‘Strip’ headlining and also opening for bands such as The Rolling Stones, Grass Roots, Leaves, Association, and Turtles.
|
1966 - Some of the Bush’s best gigs were at the Hi-Ho Clubs, a chain of teenage night clubs with locations in Riverside, El Cajon and La Jolla. The best description of these events as it relates to the Bush is stated in Ugly Things magazine, #24. “We used to pack them out wall to wall, front to back, side to side, virtual fire hazard proportions!” Rhythm guitarist Wayne Gondo’s line was that “We owned the place.”
The band also played at various clubs on the Sunset strip in 1966, most notably the Hullabaloo, a kind of pseudo-lavish dinner theater. The large room was laid out in tier fashion so when you entered the building you were at the top level and as you went closer to the stage to find a chair or set at a table, you would be going down into the room. A center walkway emanated from the stage that projected right up the middle of the room so crooners and dancers could do so right on top of you as you ‘wined and dined’.
MEMORABLE HOLLYWOOD VENUES DURING 1965-66 – THE BUSH DAYS
1966 - Yardbirds at the Hullabaloo featuring Jeff Beck
The Bush were really into the Yardbirds and the Who. So when the opportunity came one day in the first week of January to go see the Yardbirds in Hollywood, my band mates and I jumped right on it. Most memorable thing from that concert was watching Jeff Beck using a remote. It was the first time I ever saw a guitarist go cordless. We were in awe of Jeff as he pranced around the stage playing at distances of up to 20 or 30 feet from his amp, while simultaneously conjuring ethereal, space-age sounds from his guitar.
1966 – Byrds (Not) rather; Stevie Wonder at the Trip
Allen Henninger and I drove into Hollywood often in those days to check out bands and hopefully find the girl of our dreams. We never knew quite what to expect in either category but knew the Byrds played at the Trip regularly. One time we went to see the Byrds but on this occasion it was Stevie Wonder instead. We slipped into the back, stayed long enough to hear a couple of songs and watch Stevie do a dance side by side with another man who held his hand. Sounds kind of corny but it was actually cool. Then we left and went to Ben Franks and Canters because they were both chick hangouts. In a recent conversation Allen reminded me of something else I had forgotten; The Trip was affiliated with the Playboy club, in the same locale, and was a ‘topless’ club, featuring bare-chested waitresses. Maybe that’s why I recall Stevie Wonder’s dance!?
1966 – Doors at the Whisky
Allen H. said we went to the Whisky and saw the Doors when they were a brand new act. That would have been most likely in August since the Doors appeared at the Whisky a lot during that summer. I remember seeing the Doors early on but didn’t remember where; Whisky, Galaxy, or London Fog? I defer to Allen on that one. I do remember that when I saw them, Jim Morrison’s hair was very short, he wasn’t wearing the trademark leather pants yet and his stage presence was that of an amateur Mick Jagger. The band had no bass player and Ray M.’s key bass seemed muddy and unsupportive to my bass guitar familiar ear. The songs to me seemed uncertain, almost like they were rehearsing onstage.
1966 -The Bush meet the Kinks at the Coconut Grove
The Bush often traveled as a band to Hollywood to see shows by the big names of the day. On one occasion the Coconut Grove was the venue of choice. I didn’t go on this trip but Allen H. says that as soon as they arrived they met up with Ray Davies & Co. hanging out in front of the place. Allen didn't remember whether they were on the bill that night or just killing time there but either way the Bush guys started a conversation. It didn't last long because, as Allen tells it, their brogue was such thick Cockney that no one understood what they were saying. Needless to say, not much was communicated between the Bush and their peers on that occasion. However, U.T. mag #24 notes that producer Kim Fowley once told the guys that he played a Bush copy of ‘Got Love if You Want it’ for the Kinks when he was in England and they laughed and threw the record out a window. I would call that a communication, a high visibility critique.
1966 – The Bush at the Hullabaloo opening for the Palace Guard
The most memorable part of this event was setting up back-to-back with the Palace Guard on the big rotating stage. The object was simple; on this occasion the Bush was the opening band and when we had finished our set, the stage rotated left and the headlining Palace Guard circum-gyrated to the front, ready to go. As they began to play their first song, the big stage curtain closed behind them dividing their forward facing equipment from our now rear facing equipment and we began to dismantle. This was very effective because it kept the show fast-paced, virtually seamless. The Palace Guard was musically good, polished and had matching Vox amps and stage clothes, British style red jackets and black pants, just like an actual palace guard. (Imagine that!) I asked Allen H. if he remembered anything about this Hullabaloo house band. The only thing he recalled was that the lead guitar player had extremely long fingernails and he couldn't understand how the fellow managed to play. I recall speaking briefly on one occasion with the Guard’s Emmitt Rhodes. He went on to form The Merry Go Round on A&M Records and had a few hits: 'You're A Very Lovely Woman,' and 'Live.'
|
 |
| Joe |
|
|
 |
| The Light - 1967 |
|
|
1967 - Walking away from the Bush and into the Light. It sounds like something that Moses did but it was actually what I did with my music career. After the glory days of the Bush, the Inland Empire’s most popular band of the previous two years, I returned to the ‘Starving Artist’ part of my life. For a guy whose Rock music career was literally birthed in a garage, it wasn’t easy but I still believed in myself. ‘I was ready to go anywhere and do anything’. I was also facing the draft, I was twenty one and Vietnam was hot.
March 1967, two members of The Bush, drummer Brent Cartwright and me, and two members of the Northside Moss, Bob Anglin and Pete Samson, joined forces to take yet another shot at the brass ring. By April we had just enough well rehearsed original material to be haughty so we did what any respectable second generation, hybrid, garage rock band would do; recorded a demo in Hollywood at Capitol records. I played rhythm guitar in the original Light foursome (not all that well I might add). The demo session was wholehearted but half-baked. By summer I was back on my main instrument, drums, with Steve Hoard coming to take up rhythm guitar and vocals. At summer’s end, this new edition Light cut four tracks at RCA studios for the A&M label. Then Joe Casados, local Inland Empire guitar whiz kid, was added to give the band that undisputed professional edge. I was seriously motivated and ready once again to rock ‘till I dropped.
The ‘A’ side of the record, ‘Music Box’, a Left Banke sounding ballad, was a success in the Inland Empire thanks to the two pop rock stations. But the B-Side of the record, ‘Back Up’ was released in the Los Angeles area and, though it flamed out, has withstood the test of time and is considered by some to be one of the granddaddies of punk music, a cult classic. It was a high-speed romp that attempted to counter the sweetness of the flip side and allow all of us to blow it out musically with ripping solos, urgent vocal and high speed drumming.
One evening after an appearance at the Hullabaloo Club, we went across the street to nearby Wallich’s Music City and looked for our A&M 45 on the record rack. The rack that should’ve contained a dozen or so copies of our single was empty. They had sold out. That discovery, and the fact that ‘Music Box’ was playing heavily on the Inland Empire stations and ‘Back Up’ was being played on KRLA in Los Angeles, caused us to kind of go nuts like a bunch of kids, a defining moment, right in the middle of Music City.
|
 |
| Bob |
|
|
 |
| Joe |
|
|
 |
| Buffalo Springfield With The Light |
|
|
During 1967, The Light maintained high hopes, developing and recording a lot of original material, wearing a lot of psychedelic stage clothes and playing some really ‘tripped out’ gigs, which included opening for Buffalo Springfield, the Doors, the Seeds, Music Machine and others. We hung our collective behinds out there with this group and gave it everything we had in order to make it happen. In the end the band experienced the same fate as many ambitious groups. Production, direction, promotion and funds all deflated as egos inflated in an attempt to compensate. The Light came and went in what now seems like a dream, a wisp. But we wouldn’t give up everything we hoped for and go into Rock obscurity before trashing a lot of clubs, promoters, equipment, and apartments plus a few unfortunate girlfriends and doing some jail time!
MEMORABLE HOLLYWOOD VENUES DURING 1967 - THE LIGHT DAYS
1967 - Canned Heat at the Hullabaloo
Although for many the arrival of Canned Heat was the death knell for the mid-60’s Sunset scene, for me it was the first time I ever heard harmonica blues played at over 100 decibels. Al Wilson, Bob Hite and company opened a new door for me that night; “Thunder Blues”.
1967 - Soul Crusade of the Mandala at the Hullabaloo
I knew of Wayne Cochran but this Canadian band, Mandala, actually topped Wayne's act for white guys doing James Brown. Most impressive, they were musically tight, also commanding the big Hullabaloo stage well.
1967 - Steve Winwood at the Whisky
Armed with only a sax player, (Chris Woods) a drummer, and a literal wall of Marshall Amps, Steve played the ballziest British pop/soul/blues I have ever heard to this day. The dance floor was packed and every seat in the house taken. He included some of the Spencer Davis group hits in his set, most notably “Gimme Some Lovin” and “I'm a Man”. His growling Hammond B3 organ at over 100 dB in the small club was mesmerizing.
1967 - Moby Grape at the Whisky
Since this band was a big favorite of the Light, we went collectively to see them play. A couple of things really stood out about them. Their overall sound was as clean, polished, and as professional as I had ever heard even to the present day. Their live sound was like a CD of a high fidelity, stereo, phonograph record. Secondly, Jerry Miller was a very accomplished guitarist. So much so that our guitarist, Joe Casados, himself a great guitarist and stylist, stood at the front of the stage right in front of Jerry Miller for the duration of their concert, eyeballing every lick and riff that Jerry hit. Moby Grape was a great concert band. Photo by Bob Jenkins.
|
 |
| Moby Grape At The Whisky (Peter Lewis Not Pictured). Joe Casados Of The Light Was Standing On The Dance Floor Observing Jerry Miller Just To The Left And Out Of View Of The Camera. |
|
|
1967 – The Light opens for Wilson Pickett at the Hulaballoo
Perhaps the strangest gig of 1967 was with Wilson Pickett at the old Hullabaloo club on Sunset Strip in Hollywood. When we took the stage to play, we used other equipment that had already been set up. Almost every serious musician knows of this dilemma. When it came time to do our 'A' song, ‘Music Box’, It was supposed to open with the guitar playing a pretty, repeating melodic strain that one might hear in a music box. However, the big Vox Super Beatle amp that Bob was playing through was stuck in fuzztone mode and he could not figure out in an instant how to cut it off, so the beginning of the song sounded like ‘Nazz R. Blue Nursery Rhyme Acid Dream’. That, in its self, may have been strange enough except the entire audience was Afro and they had come to see the ‘Wicked Pickett’! They didn’t have a clue what we were about.
1967 - Monterey Pop Festival (June 17-19)
Referred to as the climax of the Hollywood happening, Monterey Pop turned the page on the 60’s music scene and had a definite affect on The Strip. I went to the Summer of Love festival because ‘The Times, They Were A-Changin’. My group, The Light, reflected 1966-1967 musically but the charm of matching haircuts and the flare of mod clothes were becoming passé. San Francisco Psychedelic Rock was the emerging thing. Drugs flooded the scene and soon all that would matter was peace, love and getting high. Monterey signaled the change and I was curious. One evening after the conclusion of a Light /Music Machine show somewhere in the Pomona area, a couple of friends and I drove all night to Monterey to attend the festival. During the day everyone strolled around in a constant cannabis cloud. Brian Jones was there just hanging out in robed costume, like a princely representative of how it all was once. At the concert on the final evening, I watched The Mamas & The Papas try to close the show with peace, love and flowers in Scott MacKenzie’s hair. Problem was, Janis Joplin had subjected the crowd to flagrant sexual ribaldry, The Who recklessly detonated the stage, and Hendrix immortalized the whole event with masterful music magic and a lighter fluid can. Everything sort of went up in smoke on that night. I had a great time and even if it was all changing, I was still ready for anything.
|
 |
| White Pepper - Dave and Bob |
|
|
 |
| White Pepper - Greg |
|
|
 |
| White Pepper - Steve |
|
|
 |
| White Pepper - Joe |
|
|
By January of 1968, the war in Southeast Asia was bogged down and unpopular. Demonstrations and unrest had erupted on college campuses with demands for an immediate end to the war. Musically, we attempted to remain focused, keep moving forward and salvage the band project. Pete Samson left and former Bush bass man, Dave Hoard, replaced him. We moved away from Pete’s style of writing and crooning and morphed into the stylistically different ‘White Pepper’. We played several fun gigs including opening for Blue Cheer but eventually disbanded, suffering from the potent combination of artistic solicitude and the perpetual allure of the Hollywood sirens. During this phase I got drafted for the second time. Respecting those who fought and sacrificed in Vietnam, I knew Saigon would not be my next mailing address. I was too involved in the pursuit of a music career to worry about those things that concerned Lyndon Johnson. I was ‘on the tractor beam’ of Rock and Roll fame about to come in for a landing. Well, I landed all right but not in the way I thought.
|
 |
| Greg Eckler Mug Shot |
|
|
January 5th, 1968: Life takes yet another directional change; I got arrested for the misdemeanor crime of being ‘on the premises’ where drugs, guns and minor girls were found. One evening Bob Anglin and I, along with hustling, man-about-town friend, Denny Simonson, had stopped off at a party house in Riverside on our way to the ‘Whisky’ in Hollywood to check out whoever was playing there, don't remember now. We were at the house for about ten minutes, about enough time to warm our hands by a fire in the living room, when all of a sudden the place was crawling with Vice and Narcotics officers and city cops. Everyone at the party was rounded up, hauled in and charged with the same ‘crime’ and sat in jail for about three days until it all got sorted out. Later on, Bob and I appeared in court just as we were, hapless hippy musicians, and got 3 years summary probation meaning, according to the judge, “if we even get a parking ticket in the next three years, we will go directly to the big house!” Needless to say, we didn't. Denny, as Bob remembers, showed up in “a madras sport coat, kaki slacks, shirt and tie and wingtip shoes…. and with an astronaut hair cut!” When it came his turn to speak he cried real tears and told the judge he was very sorry and that he'd never do it again. He got off. At the time, I had a girl-friend who worked at Riverside County Courts and she slipped me a copy of my mug shot and details of the R.P.D. haul that night.
Interestingly, there was an upside to all of this, at least for me. The crime of crappy timing had actually become the gain of good timing. Shortly after the Tet Offensive on January 31st, I was notified that my induction had been postponed. This effectively stalled my all-expense paid tour of Southeast Asia and surrounding mosquito laden, Viet-Cong infested jungle for another year. Eventually I beat the draft for good.
|
 |
| The Tick At Gazzari's: Alan, Bob, Greg and Tony |
|
|
With White Pepper disbanded and the draft board off my back, Bob and I, with one last helping hand from former Bush manager, Mrs. Burns, decided to head for the center of the musical universe, Hollywood, USA! First stop was Pasadena and another reformed group. We met up this time with Tony Powell on Bass and keyboard man Alan Fitzgerald (Montrose, Night Ranger, Bruce Springsteen) who had recently arrived from Maryland. We moved into Hollywood and found a one-room apartment near the corner of Franklin and Normandie Avenue, at the foot of Griffith Park. The rent was a whopping $65.00 a month. With Steve Hoard eventually joining up again we had five guys in this one room, each with a floor space and a sleeping bag. Tony got to have the bed that unfolded from the wall because his girlfriend, Cheryl, was pregnant. The band before Steve came was called The Tick and played regularly at Gazzarri’s on the Sunset Strip. After Steve arrived we became Cock Robin and continued to play back and forth between Gazzarri’s on the Sunset strip and the Purple Haze in Riverside. For several months we came up with rent and food money and managed to stay afloat. On March 31st, 1968, while on a break at Gazzarri’s, I sat at the bar and watched TV as Lyndon Johnson gave his, “I will not seek re-election” speech. He was giving up but I wasn’t about to, not yet.
|
 |
| Cock Robin At The Purple Haze: Alan Fitzgerald, Bob Anglin, Greg Eckler, Steve Hoard and Tony Powell |
|
|
We really intended to keep going no matter what. Those were the days when all we had was the clothes on our backs, our instruments and an attitude. But somehow that was enough to keep us feeling invincible.
We believed in ourselves. We had to. We met two lesbian girls who boldly lived together long before homosexuality became plebeian. They had a duplex apartment in West Hollywood, the Silver Lake area and they said we could practice there, even live there if we wanted. It didn’t matter to them. Actually nothing mattered to them. We decided this was ideal and began rehearsing in their living room everyday and night while they ran scantily-clad, hand in hand, through the house giggling at one thing and another. There were always drug deals going on and drugs being consumed amidst a continual party with extremely loud music. For some strange reason the cops never came. Meanwhile, across the duplex common wall, another group was rehearsing every day. They were called Three Dog Night. Befriending them and attaching ourselves to their energy gave us a spark of hope so we practiced on. Their destiny was sealed. Ours was a bit more of a tossup.
The hard reality of our own situation was that it was going to be a long, difficult road with no guarantees on the other end. Eventually we couldn’t afford the $65.00 apartment anymore. Cock Robin couldn't really move into the lesbian’s house as it was already a virtual bus station of Hollywood freaks day in and day out so we moved into a vacant warehouse out in Santa Monica leased by photographer friend Bob Jenkins. Bob Anglin, Steve and I lived there on a big barren floor for about two weeks. No music, no band practice, no direction and soon no hope. Rock obscurity loomed again. One morning I woke up on the cement floor, cold and blanketless and realized that this warehouse was a mausoleum of artistic defeat and I wasn’t even going to get a marker. In September of 1968, I moved back to the Inland Empire.
Interestingly, there was an upside to all of this, at least for me. Artistic defeat actually put me on the path of relational victory, something I had searched for in the clubs and parties of Hollywood for three years previous.
In November of 1968, back home in the Inland Empire, I met a girl named Terri. Thanksgiving of 2008 we will have been together for 40 years. Go figure.
|
HOLLYWOOD / INLAND EMPIRE VENUES DURING 1968 – THE TICK / COCK ROBIN DAYS
1968 – Steven Stills at the Purple Haze in Riverside
One night in mid-'68, Cock Robin was booked to open for Buffalo Springfield at the Purple Haze, Riverside, California. Bob, Steve and I were anxious to see our old back stage friends from two previous Inland Empire shows with the Light. But by the time we finished our set, the Buffalo boys had not shown up with the exception of Steve Stills. He waited until the crowd grew testy and then went on by himself. I wish I would’ve had a pocket recorder for that one. Steve’s solo performance was one of the most inspired sets I ever heard.
1968 - Bo Diddley at the Whisky (featuring Jim Morrison)
What made this concert most interesting was not necessarily Bo Diddley's infectious rhythms but the fact that midway through his set Jim Morrison strolled in off the street, staggered to the stage blasted out of his mind on something, likely acid, and motioned for Bo to hand him the microphone. What followed was indescribable but if someone would've pushed play / record, it would have been the ultimate piece of bootleg music. As Bo’s band performed his single chord, primal bump and grind, Diddley beat, Jim began to howl and growl, then swear and yell and roll all over the stage like a demon possessed person. If anyone was on hand that night that enjoyed abstract expression, something way outside the box, they certainly got their money's worth. After about ten minutes of literal rolling and tumbling with bellowing, Jim returned the microphone to Bo, sauntered back across the dance floor and exited into the Hollywood night leaving everyone with a sense of, "what just happened?" I loved every minute of it.
1968 - Doors at the Kaleidoscope (formerly the Hullabaloo)
The Doors performed at the Kaleidoscope in summer just a few weeks after Bobby Kennedy was shot to death and for their entire concert, Jim Morrison sang standing still with his back to the audience, never facing them all evening. This was predictable Morrison behavior or maybe he was burned out from having just done three nights at the Hollywood Bowl. Either way it made for a pretty dull evening. Even though the senator had been killed and it was shocking, people still wanted to see Morrison antics and jeered at his motionless backside.
So the mood that night was a mixture of shock and anger, sort of a precursor, it would seem, to the mood portrayed in a lot of music nowadays.
A musicians point of view:
In Riot on Sunset Strip: Rock 'n Roll's Last Stand in Hollywood, the author says, “On Sunset strip in 1965 and 1966, a thriving, celebratory scene appeared out of nowhere, exploded in a dazzling array of visceral creativity, and then, just as suddenly, vanished.”
This is true; I know because I was there and experienced the feeling of it. And sure, I celebrate with those who highlight and revere a rite of passage such as that was. I think of that entire Hollywood scene as the innocent side of craziness. Then came the ‘Summer of Love’. I thoroughly enjoyed Monterey Pop but some considered Rock to be dead as a result of it. Others, that the face of pop art had taken a hard left. Un-tethered people who lived for ‘happenings’ were saying, “what are we gonna do now?” One thing I know happened for sure after that final evening concert, innocence had gone and all that was left was a drugged craziness…but life went on.
I came home, still a musician rehearsing in garages and basements, still a starving artist. And yes, I benefited from that luminous flash of 1965-66 and soaked up the Summer of Love in '67 with others but I didn’t subscribe to those times because I never lost sight of the fact that it was all done with mirrors. Again, with all respect to those whose vestige lives on in the anthem, “I know… It’s only Rock n Roll… But I like it”, it’s not my intention to ruin everybody’s day by revealing that the wizard is actually some guy standing behind the curtain. But for me and my band mates, Hollywood was a reality of a different kind. It hadn’t gone anywhere; its clubs, record companies, promoters and parties still functioned albeit in some altered state. We were still in the Inland Empire sixty miles away and close to the ground. From that vantage point we resumed the process; form a new group suited to the times, get all pumped up about it, make a demo and go shop it in Hollywood.
For better or worse, music was my career choice, my magic carpet and it didn't just appear and then suddenly vanish. For nearly 45 years it gave me a really good ride, something I can actually call happening. I guess by now it's safe to say that I've grown up, put the old glamorous mat away and moved on from the idea of forming a band that can “go anywhere and do anything”. But the innocent side of craziness ever remains.
|
Mike Stax has recently covered Greg Eckler and his two mighty ‘60’s bands, The Bush and The Light, in great depth. Between back-to-back issues of Ugly Things – not to mention individual CD reissues by each group - the stories of these two Inland Empire combos were brought to light (no pun intended) in great detail. Eckler, however, has such a vivid memory and a passion for the era that when the opportunity to ask him some questions presented itself we quickly and gladly jumped at the chance.
The Light and The Bush both performed on the fabled Sunset Strip, but it was Eckler’s two later groups, The Tick and Cock Robin, that actually lived in Hollywood, resulting in greater opportunities to play the Strip much more frequently. Eckler provides his recollections on the clubs, atmosphere, and bands of 1965-1969 era Sunset Strip in this exclusive interview for 60sgaragebands.com.
Special thanks to Mike Stax for arranging the interview
|
Greg Eckler Recalls The ‘60’s Sunset Strip Scene
60sgaragebands.com (60s): Between The Bush and The Light (and The Tick), how many times did you perform on the Sunset Strip?
Greg Eckler (GE): The years between the three bands (actually four bands, including Cock Robin 1) were 1965 through mid-‘68, and that accounts for the majority of the time I spent either traveling to or living in Hollywood in pursuit of a career in rock 'n roll music. The number of times that I've played on the Strip during that time can only be guesstimated, but I would say a dozen or more. If I included other clubs or venues that weren’t directly on the Strip - clubs down on Santa Monica Boulevard or on the east end of Sunset Boulevard where not much happened, or out in Santa Monica at the Cheetah - it would be roughly a couple of dozen times.
60s: Which clubs did you play on the Strip?
GE: The Hullabaloo, numerous times with the Bush and the Light; Gazzarri’s with The Tick; the Whisky A-Go-Go (although that was later on); a club called the Sea Witch with The Bush; and Pandora's Box, which was a very popular hangout, with The Bush. There were other clubs like The Trip, where we just went to hang out but to my recollection, never played. There may be others and I'm just not remembering.
I have a bunch of recollections of The Hullabaloo with both The Light and The Bush, playing on the big rotating stage there opposite The Palace Guard and The Yellow Payges, and other bands, too. Both bands impressed me to the point of envy with their stage sound and look dialed in, their equipment was great, matching Vox stuff if memory serves, symmetrical, matching clothes, so on, and how they mastered the room with their big sound and show. And since the British Invasion was in its heyday, their presentation, to me, had that kind of feeling, or spin, to it.
Our band, on the other hand, was the hippy, garage rehearsed, hand to mouth, play whatever we could get a hold of, wear whatever we had on our back at the moment, try our best to get a decent sound check, kind of thing. It was always more of a crapshoot. Sometimes we pulled it off, sometimes it was a disaster but we just rolled on hard and loud anyway. For instance, I always played drums so hard that I would immediately bust the tips of my sticks.
60s: Was there much interaction with other bands while you were performing on the Strip (either before or after performances)?
GE: The whole scene there, as you might imagine, was quite cliquish. This is an area where my memory could quite well fail me but I don't recall interacting with any other guys from other bands. It was mostly a very highly competitive feeling. Occasionally, someone might strike up a conversation about where he got a certain amp or how he achieved a certain sound - shoptalk stuff. Sometimes a word would get passed that there was a party somewhere and all were invited (there were always parties) but it was all pretty surface. After all it was Hollywood and everybody was pretty much in it for himself. I don't remember starting up any new musician relationships.
60s: So do you feel that the Los Angeles bands looked at Inland Empire groups any differently? Do you think there was there even a recognition factor of "L.A. vs. non-L.A." bands?
GE: Well I don't know for sure about this. The reason I say that is because everyone was trying to take a shot, be discovered, the next big thing, whatever. So the smaller clubs, less known venues, would just book any band that sounded good, just to have a credible dance band like any club in any city. It didn't really matter where they were from. The Ugly Things article on the Bush points out that some locals really came down hard on us for sounding amateurish when we played at the Sea Witch and Mike Stax also mentioned Kim Fowley talking about how Gazzarri’s was merely a ‘catch all’ club for Inland Empire wannabes. I personally don't know how much validity there is in that since Kim, with all respect, only touches down on the planet periodically. But maybe on his periodic terrestrial visits he would visit the VIP lounge of Supercool Insiders and knew something that none of the rest of us knew…No matter.
60s: What groups do you recall most from the Strip?
GE: This is an interesting question because the potential for interaction was always there since “Rock Stars,” if I can use that expression loosely, were always milling about on the streets if they weren't gigging somewhere. For instance, standing in line to wait to go into the Whisky (which in its heyday was really jumpin’), Jim Morrison might be standing right in front of you waiting to go in or Gene Clark, who hung around a lot all over the place. (A mutual friend had a flat in the same tenement building we lived in on Franklin and Normandy in Hollywood, so we saw and hung out with Clark often.) One night when I was waiting to go into the Whisky, Bill Cosby was standing in line in front of me and Buddy Miles walked up, took cuts and commenced talking to Bill. Point is…it was that informal. Stephen Stills, Stevie Winwood and others on any given night of the week were just hangin’ out on the street and if you were standing next to them you could just talk to them like regular people. It was all cool.
60s: There apparently was a general "buzz" in 1965 and 1966 about the Strip, and it really became the focal point of Hollywood in general during that period. Did the actual experience of being on the Strip live up to the hype for you?
GE: I have to say in 1966, it was all quite fascinating because the Sunset Strip from one end to the other, east to west, was just happening; it was a buzz, in fact: The clubs with original music bands; restaurants like Ben Frank’s, where people would go after the clubs closed; all the major record companies where you could just walk right in and ask for an appointment to show your stuff; music stores with the latest great equipment; mod clothing stores where you could find the coolest things to wear on stage; record stores where you could go and find your own 45-rpm and buy it or stand around anonymously and look to see who else was coming in to buy it. It was the musicians’ Disneyland, the “Happiest Place on Earth”. So did it live up to the hype? I suppose, as long as you understood it was all done with mirrors. 1965-1966 was a magical time. We almost actually believed that the troubadours were the new politicians, that somehow we would break the surly bonds of the old school and, "Break on through to the other side”. Well, it was fun while it lasted.
60s: How was the Strip scene different from that of the Inland Empire? How were the clubs there different?
GE: There wasn't really an Inland Empire club ‘scene’ as such, leastwise not like Hollywood. Clubs in the Inland Empire were spread out between two counties, Riverside and San Bernardino and you might travel miles to get from one ‘happening’ to another. There was no ‘Strip’ and there was no real overall connection with a musical direction or a ‘wave’ or whatever you want to call it. Inland Empire nightclubs and other venues consisted of every kind of music imaginable from country-western to Latin, jazz, blues, rock and etc. so one had to pick and choose where they would go.
The San Bernardino side of the Inland Empire featured such places as the Swing Auditorium, where the Stones first played, and later the Kaiser Dome where The Light opened for The Doors. Later on, (there was) the Knightclub, in San Berdoo, where a young Sammy Hagar honed his craft. But if you wanted to see live, original music in Riverside you had to travel quite a ways to the Hi-Ho Club, the Gasser or the Mystic Eye or the Purple Haze. Both San Bernardino and Riverside also held rock, pop and surf (Dick Dale) concerts in their civic auditoriums or National Guard Armories. Another popular concert place was UCR (University of California Riverside.) So Hollywood featured a strip of entertainment while the Inland Empire was basically spread out all over.
I do have many fond recollections because after this many years you remember the good and remember that you survived the bad; bad acid, bad lays, bad jams, bad vibes, bad food and bad dreams. What remains is the recollection of the hope that went into an artistic endeavor and man, was that fun! For me, that really centered around the Tick and Cock Robin 1, bands that actually lived in Hollywood for nearly a year and who Mike Stax made reference to in the Ugly Things stories but only in passing and did not cover in depth.
|
|
