Although not as universally recognized as the Sunset Strip, Topanga Canyon, near Malibu, spawned its own scene and, in doing so, carved its own unique spot in ‘60s’ musical lore. Charles Manson aside, the Canyon was home to an impressive array of musical talent, including Neil Young, Canned Heat, Little Feat and Spirit, and in fact inspired its own “sound”: The Canyon Sound. St. John Green regularly performed at Canyon hotspot Topanga Corral, and even touted the Canyon Sound for their sole, self-titled LP release. Keyboardist Mike Baxter honed his musical skills in the Pacific Northwest and, shortly after arrival in Southern California, hooked up with the members that would form his first California band. Baxter would later form Jumbo, but the seeds of that group were planted while still a member of St. John Green.
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An Interview With Mike Baxter
60sgaragebands.com (60s): You were born in the Pacific Northwest but eventually moved to Southern California. At the time, did you note the differences in the two music scenes of the era?
Mike Baxter (MB): The differences were enormous. From the start I knew the music was going to be different.
In the Pacific Northwest, Seattle/Tacoma specifically, there were many good bands and there was a kind of common set list that everyone seemed to draw from. I suppose it was true in most areas of the country as well, but in the Sea/Tac area, we had tunes that had to be mastered or even rearranged to be cool. Up here and at that time, "being cool" was cool.
First, let me list some of the tunes you would hear at any given high school dance or at the Ballrooms of the area, the largest being Parkers in Seattle, and the Spanish Castle in Tacoma:
‘Walking the Dog’ by Rufus Thomas, ‘Lovelight’ by Bobbie Blue Bland, ‘Moanin'’ by Cannonball and Julian Adderly, ‘Memphis’ by Lonnie Mack, ‘San Ho Zay’ by Freddie King, and ‘Sticky’ or ‘Hold It’ by James Brown and His Flames. That’s just a few, but you get the idea. These are great tunes, and mostly instrumentals (instrumentals were very big and popular with the audiences as well). Sometimes the bands would call in a special singer for the night to do featured songs, like Tiny Tony, Jimmie Hanna, Gail Harris or Merilee Rush.
The genres we drew from were obviously funk, R&B, and soul and learning to play the groove and the jam was part of the process. Of course, I can't leave out ‘Louie Louie.’ It was played in every way, shape and form possible.
Now, when I got to Southern California, The Beatles had already started to change the world of music in the Pacific Northwest, as well as everywhere else, and the groups were sadly and humorously (embarrassing to say the least), changing their styles to fit in with what was "cool" and popular at the time.
I had my success at playing ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ at a battle of the bands in Seattle and the girls started screaming just like they did for The Beatles. I gotta say that was "cool;" there was nothing quite like that.
But soon after, my family moved to Pasadena and I was introduced to a whole new world—socially and musically. The music I listened to was diverse but I always pulled toward the R and B grooves. The first band I joined in So. Cal played surf music and some English-band stuff and had no clue about any of the music I learned from. It was a different environment totally. I was able to teach a few licks to the guys, but eventually we began writing our own music, and became more serious about our craft. As a sideline note: The bass player in this band was Rich Pisula, our bass player for Jumbo years later.
60s: What were the seeds that started the formation of St. John Green? How did the members that formed the band first hook up?
MB: I was attending Pasadena City College, and towards the end of my second year, I met Vic Sabino. He had a garage band, The Paper Bag, and they had played at a couple of school functions and fraternity-type parties in the area. I was majoring in music and would use an empty portable building near the gym to practice the Hammond organ they had. Vic would walk by and hear me jamming and one day asked if I would teach his guys a song or two. I obliged and thus established our connection and friendship for years to come.
As a side note: One of the guys I hung out with on campus between classes, those two years, was Kenny Loggins, who had his own band The Second Helping. That’s an interesting bit of trivial history.
Now Vic and I had discussed ideas for our own band. We knew we wanted new players and needed to find a way to get them. We put an ad in the paper, I think, and auditioned a variety of guys. Then one day in came Ed Bissot. Ed was a bass player. Ed also had great ideas about being famous and how to do it, he had a plan. He said he was giving himself a time limit because he was getting old…and so this would be his last shot? I had never heard that before.
Ed said he was calling himself St. John, like Dr. John, and wanted to do the songs he had written. I didn't like the idea of backing up someone—and especially someone called St. John. That wasn't our intention.
I said the name needed something else to make it work. The color green came to mind and I said Green. It sounded right. It was lyrical, different and poetic; I liked it. We argued for hours about it and possibly days, but eventually Ed conceded and so the new band became St. John Green.
Now we needed a guitar and drummer. Vic found our guitar I believe through his connections at Pasadena City College, and a soft-spoken, mild mannered Bill Kirkland joined St. John Green. Then through an ad, I believe in the paper, I can't remember, we auditioned Shell Scott, drummer extraordinaire (actually, Sheldon Silverman, a frail, yet wiry, Jewish kid from the Valley who had taken drum lessons since birth and was infatuated with jazz great Shelley Mann. Buddy Rich had praised him once and other mentors had encouraged him to seek his fortune in the big time. He was very good and we took him with us immediately upon hearing him play. As we would find out later on in St. John Green’s evolution, everyone else thought so too). Shell as he called himself, was the first to leave the band after the album was released. But more of that later.
60s: Where did the band typically play?
MB: At first we played a variety of clubs and dance halls in the area. We hired a friend and entrepreneur, Harry Snegg, to be our manager and we took gigs wherever he sent us. We worked this way most of the first year playing different venues until we discovered the Topanga Corral. The Bar that took us to the next level...or is that...the second level? (...organ slide and whoosh sounds.)
We did play at some clubs on Sunset during our years, but that wasn't our place. We really found our home in Topanga, or, I should say, they found us.
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60s: What exactly was the “Canyon” scene? Did you buy into the concept of “Canyon” music?
MB: Now this is where reality meets show biz. Marketing is a very powerful tool and usually it is the only thing that creates a successful enterprise, career, or band, etc. So, I want to be real here but I also want to be careful not to destroy any myths or possible mysteries that keep the message alive.
Topanga Canyon was a very special place to some of us in the band. Vic and I truly became engrossed and involved with the freedom and values that some of the residents shared in that environment. The other band members, however, didn't find or spend the time to truly discover what was going on up there—or maybe the locals didn't let them. I don't know.
Geographically, it is north of Malibu and the road leads from the beach, up through the canyon, over the mountains to the San Fernando Valley. Spiritually it had become home to dropouts from the corporate world, actors and artists who found peace and serenity in the canyon, and runaways from the world below.
The Corral was a funky, wooden, one-level structure painted green. It lay on the mountain side of the road, about halfway up the highway, and had a large gravel/dirt parking area in front. It had a long bar and small dance floor. The stage was about two-feet off the ground on the south end of the building. They had food, burgers and such, and bands on the weekend and on Sunday afternoons. It sounds pretty tame, but oh the clientele was diverse.
At any given night we would have hippies on acid and actors enjoying the atmosphere, bikers having their beers and musicians sitting in or hanging out in the crowd. What a trip.
I may be wrong, but it was the only place I saw both Hell Angels and Satan’s Slaves in the same bar...and having a good time.
I remember one night coming in from the valley-side over the mountain to come to work. The going was slow because we had a huge line of bikers coming in to party at the Corral. And another night when the dancers were so stoned, we were afraid for their lives.
Neil Young lived up there and would come in all the time. Bob Denver, Gilligan from Gilligan's Island, came in to hear us on a regular basis. We had Bruce Johnston of The Beach Boys sit in one night and then Sunday afternoon had jazz players from Los Angeles come up and sit in with us.
It wasn't all glamour and glory, believe me. There were drug overdoses, fights, stabbings and sadly a few deaths as well. This was a very different world, but I think to all who came, it meant the same thing: Freedom.
As I said, Vic and I became pretty close to some of the residents and heard different versions and opinions of what was soon to become “The Canyon Scene" and “The Canyon Sound". This is also where we met Jumbo’s first guitarist, Brad DelaValley, and where we met Kim Fowley.
There were other bands in the area that called Topanga home. Spirit and Canned Heat lived up there and did play at the Corral on occasion. They too were just getting started making headway in the industry. I remember Randy California coming in several times to listen or sit in and his stepdad, Ed Cassidy, who would come up and play a little drums. There were other groups as well that competed for this gig. One in particular was Evergreen Blueshoes, a band headed up by bassist Skip Battin, from Skip and Flip (‘Cherry Pie’) days—Flip being Gary Paxton, who ironically was also the original member of The Hollywood Argyles (‘Alley Oop’), with none other than Kim Fowley at his side.
It always seems a bit strange, as we look back in perspective, how many things seem to fit into place...like it was pre-destined.
Was there "Canyon Music"? Well, there were "Canyon Bands" and "Canyon Residents" and "Canyon Mysteries" and "Canyon Mythologies"…so, maybe there was a "Canyon Thing." There was, however, a Kim Fowley.
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60s: What were the circumstances leading to the band's opportunity to record the LP?
MB: As I’ve mentioned, we played a variety of music—some cover tunes that we customized and our own originals. I usually wrote songs individually or with Vic, and Ed had the music he had written, some of which we did on stage and some we did not, because, quite frankly, some were too weird and creepy. We did do his ‘7 Levels Of Hell’ thing which was a takeoff of the folk tune ‘Sinner Man’ and Ed would get so into it that I thought he was going to die on stage one night, literally. That was one of the tunes that I think sparked the interest of Kim Fowley.
60s: How did Kim Fowley and Michael Lloyd become involved?
MB: Fowley had been lurking around the Corral before he actually contacted us. He had heard about the band at the Corral, and not one to overlook an opportunity, he had come up to "check out the scene."
It was a Sunday afternoon, I believe, when he approached the stage like he was gliding on air. A tall, gaunt faced, slender man, with a weird Andy Warhol-like gaze, and he searched us out, one by one, to see who was responding to his game. He eventually came to the point, asking about our music, and extended an invitation for us to meet him at his place of residence in Hollywood, on San Vicente Ave., later that week. (And he took me down to the third level...organ slide, whoosing sound…fire...scream.)
It was more like an empty doctor’s office then a house, and was virtually void of furniture. There were several carpeted rooms that were once offices, and a bathroom. He cooked on a hot plate and had a mattress stored in a closet. That was it. Strange and a bit sad I thought.
He laid out to us what was essentially a plan to create and record a "new style of music": The Canyon sound. We were to be his muse as he wove this "mystical tale about the Dark Shadows of the Canyon and the mysterious Canyon people who had left the world behind to become one with nature"…and all that jazz. And, especially after hearing some of Ed Bissot's poetry, his "vision" became more crystalline. Surely he planned all this in his unique mind after seeing the Topanga Corral, the people, the music and the dollar signs, etc.
I will say that, the one time he wandered into the Canyon with us, it was made clear by the locals that he wasn't a part of any "Canyon Scene." We were to play an outdoor concert one Sunday in the Canyon and Fowley decided to join in the festivities and make it a "publicity opportunity." He came up wearing a black cape, and paraded around like he was Jesus, with a photographer at his feet. The locals confronted him and almost went for his blood. They resented him invading their lives and their privacy and his exploitation of it, and they were angry. They feared for the loss of their freedom I am sure.
It was at that point, that I first felt there was something wrong with this deal, but we were a young band and wanted so badly to go places that we didn't see the whole picture clearly. (...and down to the 4th level...whoosh, screams and organ slide.)
Fowley used our talents as musicians to take his ideas and put them into arrangements. He had pieces of a song he would take from one record and add a piece from another record to create his music. It was an interesting technique. Then I would sit down, learn the pieces and put them together as one to create the background music composition. He had me do several pieces of music this way for the recording. We rehearsed the songs until they were tight and went on to the studio. To make this a band project and give us credibility, we also added two songs that Vic and I wrote, ‘Devil And The Sea’ and ‘The Squirrel,’ which Fowley changed to ‘Spirit of Now’ for the sake of “title consistency.” (Whatever.)
And, of course, (there was) Ed Bissot's bizarre poetry, some of which he recited live in the studio while I conducted the band. Top that off with a funky groove Fowley took from an old Nina Simone tune and added words about a "Canyon Woman," and the lyrical theme song he wrote to add mystery to the name, "St. John Green," and you have quite a creation. Oh yes…the ending track ‘Shivers of Pleasure,’ was invented, by the band, in the studio as a way to lighten up the album and try to ease our way out of the darkness.
Michael Lloyd was hired by Michael Curb's Sidewalk Productions, to engineer the album. Fowley produced it, and Michael Curb signed us to the record deal with the new label Flick Disc, part of MGM Records, and was considered Executive Producer.
We never met Michael Curb. We only dealt with his attorney and his sister when in their offices. I was still under age, as was Shelly Scott and Bill Kirkland, and so our parents had to sign the contracts. Now, many of the tracks were quite involved musically and were long in their presentation so Fowley and Lloyd cut everything into pieces in case they were ever played on the radio. Amazing. There was actually some very interesting music written for this album that was chopped into pieces and/or discarded. Ed's interpretation of ‘Sinner Man,’ ‘Messages From The Dead,’ is a good example of the "cutting room floor." We recorded the entire piece that we performed on stage, but Fowley and Lloyd cut the entire front of the song off leaving just Ed's "descent into Hell." (....and down to the 5th level, Organ slide, whooshing sounds and definitely more screams.)
I got the impression from Michael Lloyd that we were wasting his time. He was considered by some a boy genius and I guess that gave him privileges we weren't privy to, but he gave me the feeling that he knew more about this record than we did. He probably did. He was very close to Michael Curb and confided constantly with Fowley. We were not included in these discussions, obviously, so to determine the nature of the project, we relied on blind faith and honesty.
I knew our music was being compromised and our album was being twisted into a bizarre Kim Fowley project with Ed Bissot's strange creations and Kim's ramblings taking a stronger hold, but we still went on with the project in good faith. In my heart, I knew it was nothing like the album I hoped it would be. But it was done; we would see what happens when it was released. (...and the 6th level...organ slide, whooshing sounds, and crash.)
The icing on the cake was when Vic and I went up to the office of Mike Curb’s Sidewalk Productions, on Sunset Blvd., to get the first copies of the new release and saw the cover. We were so excited, this was a huge day for us...and when they brought out the first copy, my heart dropped. They had taken the roughly done poster drawing of a "Dragon Around the Earth Holding an Acid Tablet" that Shelly's brother had done months before and turned it into our album cover. I felt sick. Where were all the photos we had taken? The album cover photos (still missing to this day by the way)?
I was told that we, the band, had chosen this painting as our cover. I found out later that Shelly and his brother had turned it into the record company without our knowledge. I was embarrassed and angry. It was then that Vic and I decided to break the contract. We sat in the office until the attorney on staff came out with the release. The others followed soon after, and the rest is history.
The release, by the way, was dated the same day as the day we signed the contracts. (....and the 7th level...crashing sounds, big whoosh, crescendo and music out.)
60s: What are your feelings when listening to the LP today?
MB: It is hard for me to listen to the entire album. I will generally pick three or four tracks and usually the ones that are more traditional in their construction. I don't find it easy to sit through some of the darker "tunes," and if I do it is to hear the music backgrounds. I think, for the times, it was pretty interesting (in many ways)...and humorous as well.
I didn't even know it was still in print until a relative of mine, several years ago, found a CD on the Internet and gave it to me as a gift. I couldn't believe it was still around. I guess it has been bootlegged for sale in Europe or the rights sold off to some distribution house in Greece. It is now a collector's item of sorts. I see there are Google sites and blogs with revues and recorded tracks with video. It is very flattering actually.
And that album cover, I will admit, there is nothing like it. You know right away it is St. John Green.
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60s: Are there any other St. John Green recordings? Are there any vintage live recordings, or other unreleased tracks?
MB: Not that I am aware of. However, as you see, nothing is impossible.
60s: Are you familiar with a rumored 1970 live St. John Green LP on Flick City? You were in Jumbo at the time, so is it possible other members may have been involved?
MB: To my knowledge there is no such animal. But, with that being said, I wouldn't be surprised if one turned up.
60s: What year and why did the band break up? How soon after did you form Jumbo?
MB: The band stayed together into 1969 and was trying to find its direction. We lost Shelly soon after the album was released. He was seduced away by some rock n roll "superstar wannabe" and we lost touch with him soon after. I don't think he ever made it to the mountain top he was promised. I can't remember the guy’s name that lured him away, but he too, was never heard from again. Too bad. He was a very talented young drummer.
Shelly was replaced by Bob Desimone, a blues-style drummer who worked in the house band at the Ash Grove on Melrose. He was a funny guy and added humor when it was needed, but had very different musical interests. Guitarist Bill Kirkland was replaced by Brad Delavalley from Topanga Canyon.
Vic and I still hadn't resolved our issues with Ed. There were very strong differences in direction and eventually this led to a split between us. Ed left the group and St. John Green dissolved. The new band would soon evolve into what would become Jumbo.
Rich Pisula was located and asked to join the band. Bob Desimone moved on and returned to the Ash Grove, and we interviewed until we found Neil Olsen. Jumbo was now complete.
In retrospect, St. John Green was a very successful band. We had an opportunity to achieve something many bands don't. We learned important, if not painful, lessons about the recording industry and met some extraordinary and unusual people. We made music history in one of the most infamous and mysterious places in rock and roll, Topanga Canyon and the Corral. And we left a legacy behind that is still a product of speculation and analyzing to this day.
".... now you know where we're at, and it's cool..." (‘Shivers of Pleasure,’ St John Green, Flick Disc, 1968)
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