A Historical Note

While going through some old handbills the other day (and Bethy, I still have that stash of Sons of Champlin stuff for you), I came across a faded black paper. It was an old photocopy of a letter to me from Manuel Greenhill dated November 2, 1965. In the old days, photocopies came out as negatives, making copying a multi step process. Copy a letter once and you get a black background with white letters, hopefully legible. If not, you could put that copy in the machine and recopy it, hoping the second copy would resemble the original. But I digress.

In case you don't know who Mr. Greenhill was, he managed Joan Baez. The letter invited me backstage at the San Francisco Civic Auditorium at 6:45 PM. I have no idea what date that was! Mr. Greenhill very generously asked me to limit the members of my party to three.

What really sucks is that this was sent to my school (I was on the newspaper staff) and the journalism advisor opened the letter and did not give it to me until after the show because she didn't think it appropriate that I attend the show. I forgot all about this until I saw the letter and I got mad all over again. Sheesh!

Well, live and learn. Shortly after this, I wrote to Albert Grossman about interviewing Bob Dylan and asked him to respond to my home address. Needless to say, THAT meeting has been documented for all time. Same bitchy advisor told me not to write an article for the paper - she had someone else write it, someone who never even spoke to Dylan. Anyway, the fact that my article didn't make into the Redwood Bark was hardly a blip on the scenario of my life: not only Mr. Dylan but my questions and I were written about in Time and Life and the first issue of Rolling Stone not to mention the fact that I was given my own short chapter in the book "If You See Him, Say Hello - Encounters With Bob Dylan" (even if they called right after my mother died and I basically just driveled a few paragraphs and sent it off). Put THAT in your pipe and choke on it, bad witch Glenda. Oh, and did I mention, Miss Glenda, that I am also in the video of that conference that has been circulating for years?

You know, I wonder if it is too late to prosecute Miss Gentry for opening my mail. Isn't that a federal offense?

Miss Gentry, if you are still out there (and I suspect you are, you were too mean to die young), you suck and I don't.

Yes Mookie Siegel, I do hold grudges for long periods of time.