Category Archives: history

Eddie the road manager2

history, tell your story

Hello boys and girls, grampas and mee-maws. Its your ole fiend Eddie the Road Manager with some more rambleings ’bout when I had some of the best times of my life in the Hippie community in good ole Atlanta.

Ya’ll remember The Fruit Jungle? I spent many late nights food tripping in that place. One thing cool…for a while there was an older dude probably in his late 40’s working there late shift, and I had been told that if you were broke, slip the dude a joint and he wouldn’t charge you. I had to try this and with a little paranoia on my part slipped the man two joints to pay for soda, cake and cigs…WOW!!! the cat smiled at me wiggled his eyebrows and said have a nice nite. After this, I would always bring him a “present” even if I wuz paying…unfortunatly he didn’t last too long there.

This ones a hoot…I know there has to be folks who remember this happening. In the rear of Atlantis Rising was a large dirt parking lot where folks started hanging out doing what we did back then. My friend Jimmy Smith and I were walking down a side street going to the parking lot when all of a sudden! Man all the cops you ever wanted to see were screeching and motorcycling and sireening to the parking lot…scared us to death!! I mean we thought it was the inquisition-final last round up-death to the beholder and then some come at last. Being prudent and not half dumb hippies he and I found a nice little hidey hole and hid our stashes and went to investigate. Not 10 minutes after the big cop-o-rama drama cops began leaving the area…swear to god 2 different motorcycle dudes shot us the peace sign!! Others were waving and smiling as they left…strange mo-pocky…we found out latter there was a beat cop in the area and was in the parking lot being pretty friendly with everybody and a couple of guys hanging out thougth it might be fun to dose this cop. They got a very pretty lady to offer the cop an iced cold coke with a hit of acid in it. What caused the big cop infestation was the poor guy was having so much FUN he forgot to call in on his radio and let the big cop on the radio know all was well. As I remember, the tripping policeman stayed with us for a few hours…I guess the cops thought we could take care of him….wonder where he wound up…..

Another fond memory of mine was the Turkey Trip in the ballroom of that hotel across from the Fox. I saw the poster for it, but I only remember the ABB playing that night. I had a friend who was new to atlanta and had never seen the allmans…so I somehow arranged to get him on the stage crew and buy him a hit or orange barrel. the first time I saw the ABB i was tripping my a** off so this would be a good way for Acey to see them (see previous post)…it was fun watching every body bumping around and trying to maintain while moving various mysterious pieces of musical equipment….sometime during the show, the Brothers were in a particularly intense jam and this weird guy jumped out of the audience and started wailing on Duane’s microphone…he was doing some pretty good lead singer moves but the mike was turned off…what was cool was no one jumped on the guy or tried to bounce him off the stage, Kim Payne Allman Bros. road manager just reached up and turned the mike on. This scared the shit out of leadsinger man to hear himself at volume and he kinda slunk back in to the audience.

First real concert I saw was the Dave Clark 5 in the auditorium…went to Atlanta Cabana and oggled them for a while.

Place I stayed for quite a while was wonderful. An apartment in an old house about block and a half from Catacombs…pot-ment was one of 3 in this house and Berry Oakley and Mike Callahan lived there for a while…Berry had just come off a tour with Tommy Roe and was just hanging…he used to get me stoned and teach me progressions on the guitar so he could practice bass lines…I was awful but it was fun. Our ‘potment was close enough to the strip where alot of times I would just put on some tunes turn um up and sit on the front porch and meet bunches of people…so cool.

Almost every memory I have about those days are positive and truly fun. There were times when a friend would get busted or in trouble and that would be a drag. I was stopped once driving and didn’t have my wallet on me so I was guilty of driving without a license…withno ID the good ole DeKalb county po lice called a PADDY WAGON!! and hauled me down to the city jail…bummer…I actually met these great black dudes whome I played checkers with at a quarter a game. I didn’t have to try very hard to lose but I made sure to. So these guys could buy cigaretts & shit. One bummer was there was a thing with music in the park that day and my friends who could get me out did not know i was busted untill Jim Neiman was doing his set and dedicated a song to “Eddie the road manager in the clink”. Man!! do you think i was lucky or what? I think I was very lucky at that time in history to go to the Atlanta city jail and come out smiling…..whew!!

I’ll try to add to this as time goes on…shoot I’m 59 years old memory ain’t what it used to be. I do miss all the friends I made back then…some of the best friends i’ve ever had…having some of the best times WE ever had. Now a days when i see the news and all the crap thats happening in the world and around the town i live in, I realize how very lucky we were to grow up in such turbulent times (LOL).

peace and happiness, eddie

 

Hippies Plague the Women’s Club!

history

http://www.gpb.org/media/pdf/peachtreestreet.pdf

IN THE LATE 1960S AND EARLY 1970S, THE MEMBERS FACED A VERY  DIFFERENT PROBLEM – A PLAGUE OF HIPPIES. 

 Jim Auchmutey #31   [08:16:57:00]   The strip was that area up around Peachtree and 10th street that was uh the south’s little version of Haight Ashbury.  And uh I remember going down during the summer of 1970 when I was not quite 15 years old.  And it was the first time I’d ever let my hair grow over – I had hair – I’d ever let my hair grow over my ears.  (08:17:16:00)   (08:17:26:00) The streets would just be crawling with folks.  I mean, there, there was a real happening place then.  And Margaret Mitchell’s old neighborhood had become hippie.  And uh I’d buy bootleg records down there and blacklight  posters.

 [08:17:38:00]   (08:18:50:00)  And a lot of people who had – who were probably appalled by hippies, were coming down there uh the traffic used to be backed up on Peachtree for miles uh with folks from the burbs coming in to look at all these people, you know.  That was, that was what everybody was talking about back then, so everybody wanted to come down and see it.  It was like the big cruising scene. 

(08;19;11) 

NARRATION:    THE MEMBERS OF THE ATLANTA WOMAN’S CLUB HUNKERED DOWN AND TRIED TO IGNORE THE HIPPIES SLEEPING ON THEIR PORCH.  IT WOULD PROVE TO BE A SHORT-LIVED PHENOMENON.    MIDTOWN WAS ABOUT TO SHAKE OFF ITS SLEEPY POST-WAR LOOK TO BECOME ATLANTA’S SECOND BUSINESS CENTER  AND ITS CULTURAL CENTER.  

 THE ARTS WERE BEGINNING TO FLOURISH IN THE NEW MEMORIAL ARTS CENTER, DEDICATED IN 1968 TO THE MEMORY OF 106 ATLANTA ARTS PATRONS WHO DIED IN A 1962 PLANE CRASH IN ORLY, FRANCE.  HERE THE SYMPHONY, THE HIGH MUSEUM OF ART, THE ATLANTA COLLEGE OF ART AND THE ALLIANCE THEATER ALL HAD ROOM TO GROW.   IN 1982 THE CENTER WAS RENAMED THE ROBERT W. WOODRUFF ARTS CENTER ON THE 

93RD BIRTHDAY OF THE COCA COLA MAGNATE, WHO HAD BY THEN GIVEN IT ABOUT $50 MILLION.     THE NEXT YEAR, THE HIGH MUSEUM MOVED INTO A NEW SIGNATURE BUILDING NEXT DOOR.  TODAY THE WOODRUFF ARTS MUSEUM.

all that typical hippie junk no one believes in anymore. Right?

feed your head, history, Lifestyles

Posted by CN Staff on August 22, 2007 at 09:09:59 PT

By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist 

Source: SF Gate

USA — Go ahead, name your movement. Name something good and positive and pro-environment and eco-friendly that’s happening in the newly “greening” of America and don’t say more guns in Texas or fewer reproductive choices for women because that would defeat the whole point of this perky little column and destroy its naive tone of happy rose-colored optimism. OK?

I’m talking about, say, energy-efficient lightbulbs. I’m looking at organic foods going mainstream. I mean chemical-free cleaning products widely available at Target and I’m talking saving the whales and protecting the dolphins.

I mean yoga studios flourishing in every small town, giant boxes of organic cereal at Costco and the Toyota Prius becoming the nation’s oddest status symbol. You know, good things.

Look around: We have entire industries devoted to recycled paper, a new generation of cheap solar-power technology and an Oscar for “An Inconvenient Truth.” Even the soulless corporate monsters over at famously heartless joints like Wal-Mart are now claiming that they really, really care about saving the environment because, well, “it’s the right thing to do” (read: “It’s purely economic and all about their bottom line”).

There is but one conclusion you can draw from the astonishing pro-environment sea change happening in the culture and (reluctantly, nervously) in the halls of power in D.C., one thing we must all acknowledge in our wary, jaded, globally warmed universe: The hippies had it right all along.

All this hot enthusiasm for healing the planet and eating whole foods and avoiding chemicals and working with nature and developing the self? Came from the hippies. Alternative health? Hippies. Green cotton? Hippies. Reclaimed wood? Recycling? Humane treatment of animals? Medical pot? Alternative energy? Natural childbirth? Non-GMA seeds? It came from the granola types (who, of course, absorbed much of it from ancient cultures), from the alternative worldviews, from the underground and the sidelines and from far off the grid and it’s about time the media, the politicians, the culture as a whole sent out a big, hemp-covered apology.

Here’s a suggestion, from one of my more astute ex-hippie readers: Instead of issuing carbon credits so industrial polluters can clear their collective corporate conscience, maybe, to help offset all the damage they’ve done to the soul of the planet all these years, these commercial cretins should instead buy some karma credits from the former hippies themselves. You know, from those who’ve been working for the health of the planet, quite thanklessly, for 50 years and who have, as a result, built up quite a storehouse of good karma. You think?

Of course, you can easily argue that much of the “authentic” hippie ethos — the anti-corporate ideology, the sexual liberation, the anarchy, the push for civil rights, the experimentation — has been totally leached out of all these new movements, that corporations have forcibly co-opted and diluted every single technology and humble pro-environment idea and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cone and Odwalla smoothie to make them both palatable and profitable. But does this somehow make the organic oils in that body lotion any more harmful? Verily, it does not.

You might also just as easily claim that much of the nation’s reluctant turn toward environmental health has little to do with the hippies per se, that it’s taking the threat of global meltdown combined with the notion of really, really expensive ski tickets to slap the nation’s incredibly obese butt into gear and force consumers to wake up to the gluttony and wastefulness of American culture as everyone starts wondering, “Oh my God, what’s going to happen to swimming pools and NASCAR and free shipping from Amazon?” Of course, without the ’60s groundwork, without all the radical ideas and seeds of change planted nearly five decades ago, what we’d be turning to in our time of need would be a great deal more hopeless indeed.

But if you’re really bitter and shortsighted, you could say the entire hippie movement overall was just incredibly overrated, gets far too much cultural credit for far too little actual impact, was pretty much a giant excuse to slack off and enjoy dirty, lazy, responsibility-free sex romps and do a ton of drugs and avoid Vietnam and not bathe for a month and name your child Sunflower or Shiva Moon or Chakra Lennon Sapphire Bumblebee. This is what’s called the reactionary simpleton’s view. It blithely ignores history, perspective, the evolution of culture as a whole. You know, just like America.

But, you know, whatever. The proof is easy enough to trace. The core values and environmental groundwork laid by the ’60s counterculture are still so intact and potent that even the stiffest neocon Republican has to acknowledge their extant power. It’s all right there: Treehugger.com is the new ’60s underground hippie zine. Ecstasy is the new LSD. Visible tattoos are the new longhairs. And bands as diverse as Pearl Jam, Bright Eyes, NIN and the Dixie Chicks are writing anti-Bush, anti-war songs for a new, ultra-jaded generation.

And, oh yes, speaking of good ol’ MDMA (Ecstasy), even drug culture is getting some new respect. Staid old Time mag just ran a rather snide little story about the new studies being conducted by Harvard and the National Institute of Mental Health into the astonishing psycho-spiritual benefits of goodly entheogens such as LSD, psilocybin and MDMA. Unfortunately, the piece basically backhands Timothy Leary and the entire “excessive,” “naive” drug culture of yore in favor of much more “sane” and “careful” scientific analysis happening now, as if the only valid methods for attaining knowledge and an understanding of spirit were through control groups and clinical, mysticism-free examination. Please.

Still, the fact that serious scientific research into entheogens is being conducted even in the face of the most anti-science, pro-pharmaceutical, ultraconservative presidential regime in recent history is proof enough that all the hoary hippie mantras about expanding the mind and touching God through drugs were onto something after all (yes, duh). Tim Leary is probably smiling wildly right now — though that might be because of all the mushrooms he’s been sharing with Kerouac and Einstein and Mary Magdalene. Mmm, heaven.

Of course, true hippie values mean you’re not really supposed to care about or attach to any of this, you don’t give a damn for the hollow ego stroke of being right all along, for slapping the culture upside the head and saying, “See? Do you see? It was never about the long hair and the folk music and Woodstock and taking so much acid you see Jesus and Shiva and Buddha tongue kissing in a hammock on the Dog Star, nimrods.”

It was, always and forever, about connectedness. It was about how we are all in this together. It was about resisting the status quo and fighting tyrannical corporate/political power and it was about opening your consciousness and seeing new possibilities of how we can all live with something resembling actual respect for the planet, for alternative cultures, for each other. You know, all that typical hippie junk no one believes in anymore. Right?

Memories of The Dead in Piedmont Park 7/7/69

Festivals, history, tell your story

We were married  07/07/69 at the “Free Concert” in the park after  the 1st Atlanta POP.

Schroeder & Renée

billhowell
Schroder and his beloved Renee, Hippie love story – together till he recently died.

The Piedmont show which actually 2 or 3 days after, Tuesday I believe was the result of politics.  According to the Great speckled Bird, “How could we charge $$$ for music … even $13.50 a day.”  we had to do something to appease the social uproar over our commercialism.  Spirit, CTA, and Delaney and Bonnie stuck around for room and board.  And the Dead played for travel, rooms and beer.  So yes I was very involved in it as well as the rest of the team.

I remember Pigpen cracking two cases of beer, neatly arranging them on the balustrade around the pavilion, and calmly dosing each one with premium Owsley Acid.  Everyone around the pavilion was glowing.

 I would love to have a list of the people that attended the FREE concert in Piedmont Park after that Festival with Spirit, Chicago Transit Authority, Delaney and Bonnie and Friends (including Dave Mason and others), and THE GREATFUL DEAD.  That was the seminal moment.- Robin Conant

Delaney and Bonnie & Friends start off the afternoon.

 Very nice. I can tell you why there was no one there at 1:00PM. The performers who stayed after the last night of the Pop Festival were all invited to “The River House” a rather infamous hippie house on Riverside Drive. Quite a few made the trip, including “The Dead” Those memories are a bit fuzzy, so I’m not sure who all was there. I vaguely remember sitting outside on the ground watching the sun come up and singing folk songs with Jerry Garcia playing acoustic guitar. Seems like there was a bunch of people making music, but I couldn’t swear who was there. John Ivey & Ricky Bear, local studio musicians, lived nearby on the river. They may have been there; possibly Barry Bailey. Barry played a lot with John & Ricky. Studio work and just local jams. This was when “The Joint Effort” was changing its name to the Atlanta Rhythm Section. A PR decision. Anyhow, no one woke up before late afternoon and that threw the free concert behind schedule.

 If you hear from John Ivey or anyone else from the River House, please let me know.

 

If you were there, what are YOUR experiences

 

And to think that I saw it on Peachtree Street…”

Festivals, history

And to think that I saw it on Peachtree Street…”

©Patrick Edmondson 2012

Friday July 3rd, 1970 I was working the morning traffic selling The Great Speckled Bird at 14th and Peachtree. There was going to be a Pop Festival that weekend in Byron, Ga near Macon. The first Pop Festival had been wonderful, but the normal hot for a Georgia 4th. We knew middle and South Georgia and knew the heat there was much worse. Most people who lived there spent much of the day somewhere shady or in water. This was to again be at a treeless stock car track outside Macon, currently mayored by “Machine Gun” Ronnie Thompson who had issued machine guns to police in fear of Negro uprising. “Machine Gun” Ronnie was a really unsane belligerent Cracker who really hated hippies, making his county the perfect place for a pop festival. We had been tempted by the stories told by friends from the Zoo. They had been down building the site and told us about the free stage set up way out in the woods down newly bulldozed trails. One of them had a homestead even further back in the woods where he had his dog and was sowing some seeds. We looked at the lineup and really wanted to go, but the tickets were too costly for poor student hippies

I had gotten up early to get to the Birdhouse to buy papers and drive up 14th over Peachtree and parked The Omnibus on the corner by Ga Linen where there was a grassy lawn and big tree.  A great spot to work since people would come up and sprawl on the grass under the tree and talk to me.

I was the first hippie cars would encounter driving down Peachtree towards The Strip and I looked the part I had made a belt with silver conchos on a leather strip and leather strings hanging down my leg. I wore it low on my hips over embroidered jeans and engineer boots so the strings swung as I walked. I had made a duck hat, an engineer’s cap with the bill painted yellow. In the front I painted two big white cartoon eyes like Donald Duck. To complete the motif in winter I had a middy blouse from Navy surplus that zipped up tightly under the arm on one side.  Some people knew me simply as that duckhat guy.

Being a bit ‘on stage’ brought more money, so I got into it. It was fun to watch the long strings swing as I walked, danced, clowned along the edge of Peachtree. It was a good corner and I made quite a bit of money each day. Driving around town I always kept a load of Birds in my bus and whenever traffic stalled, I’d pull over and work the traffic until it moved or a cop came to roust me.  I devoted hours to selling Birds, but working 14th and Peachtree was the best. When traffic lulled I could go climb in the Omnibus, pull the curtains and smoke on a joint as traffic roared by outside.  I was just a crazy hippie so many pretended I wasn’t there. It was work, but also fun as I walked along and amused myself in between lights. Somehow some people want to talk to a hippie. Buying a Bird gave them a reason to talk. It was fun to people watch as mini-dramas played out every so often.

I stood at the corner holding The Great Speckled Bird open so people could see the cover.  Some cars would pull up and desperately thrust money at me for a paper as cars behind them played a cacophonous symphony.  Otherwise I waited for the light then walked along the side of the road smiling. Kids almost always bought a Bird and usually gave me at least fifty cents for a 25-cent paper. Folks wanting you to think they were cool, but usually, and sadly obviously, were not, would either overpay and wave you off or demand exact change as traffic honked.  Swingers and narcs tried to buddy talk and ask about obtaining sex and drugs. Closet hip folks would give you a dollar or other big bill and maybe a good joint or some hash for a paper, or as a tip. Girls and gay men flirted and society women were suggestive as they overpaid and were asked if they wanted change. One woman asked if I could get some “Chiba” to smoke then “fuck her like only a hippie could”. I was unsure what either meant and was in love with Gabi.

This Friday before the 4th there was a constant stream of hippies loaded into vehicles. They came from all over in some amazingly colorful and creative vehicles. And they all had the same destination, The Pop Festival.  A band in a van full of equipment just going to play the free stage was very excited. Each car was headed to see favorites, whose music blared from tape decks.  Each one made me feel more that Byron was going to be a scene for real and we needed to be there.

The final was a big cylindrical trash dumptruck from some unknown town.  Totally normal looking except for the drivers were freaks. They laughed and said they were headed for Byron. I said it was a weird vehicle to travel in. They said I didn’t know the half of it and pushed a button. The back lifted up and away as to dump trash. Now I could see a living room set up inside behind a screen.  There was a table and chairs by a pole lamp, a couch, a recliner, sleeping bags and supplies. A huge cloud had come out when the back had opened. Behind a screen, two guys sat rolling joints at the table and smoking. They said they were farmers from Indiana taking their wares to market at Byron. I laughed and they winked and lifted a tarp at the rear so I could see the pile of marijuana buds beneath. I exploded in surreal laughter- a dump dopetruck with its own living room, here on Peachtree.

They handed me a few joints and closed the truck before continuing down Peachtree towards The Strip. I now knew we had to at least go down and enjoy the people and the scene. We might even get to hear some music. Clearly Byron, Ga. was where to spend July 4th 1970.

Gabi worked as the manager of a uniform shop near Emory. She was very good at running the store. I was a student who sold Birds, did odd jobs and silk screening, etc. to make a bit of money. My other responsibility was to be sure we had good dope.  I looked very out of place in the uniform store around the nurses, but began telling her what I had seen and that I was going for supplies because we had to go to the Pop festival.  Soon she was excited and a young nurse was calling her boyfriend wanting to go also.

 

stomp rights

Community, feed your head, history

by Louis Clata

The New York Times – April 10, 1970

The world rights to “Stomp”, the multimedia protest musical environment entertainment, have been acquired by Michael Butler, producer of Hair.

Mr. Butler plans to present the show, now playing at Joseph Papp’s Public theater, on the West Coast next fall and then bring it to Broadway next season.  “Stomp” is the creation of a group of young, disaffected Southerners who met and developed the musical at the University of Texas and then came north with it.

The producer says that he is contemplating some changes in “Stomp” and will work on them in conjunction with Douglas Dyer.

The sale of the world rights to “Stomp” will not affect the show’s commitment to a four month festival tour in Europe under the auspices of the New York Shakespeare Festival.  The tour begins May 21 in Paris, where it will be presented for nine days as the American entry at the Festival of Nations.

Copyright The New York Times Company.  All rights reserved

Showdown on 11th

history, Rights

The Great Speckled Bird Vol3#8pg.4

 Showdown on 11th

showdownon11th People are putting the paper to bed Tuesday night when that old familiar call comes: “Pigs are busting people on 11th Street.” So our crack riot-trained team of reporters and photogs converge on the scene, to find: a big red fire truck, brandishing its fire hoses at a still (slightly) smoldering can of garbage; a Journal/Constitution, paper-box (Right On!) blocking the Peachtree entrance onto 11th; a small scattering of freaks (“Community People” we call them) hustling and bustling about in customary gaiety, exclaiming on the near riot; and the familiar voice of Harky (The Rev. Klinefelter)’first far away, then nearing and finally turning the corner of Peachtree onto llth.

 

The entire scene converges to a spot about a third of the way down the street, and the rap continues, Harky’s words about what you do when you get busted and who you should call and write all this down on the back of your hands so you won’t lose it but nobody has a pen, words punctuated by an occasional pop bottle thrown at random into the street, and Harky talks paranoid about “outsiders” throwing things to provoke the cops, maybe even paid outsiders, to give them the chance to bust heads (but they weren’t).

 

So, all things being normal, I begin asking individuals what happened prior to this happy time, and quickly piece together the basics: three plainclothesmen slipped into 127 11th Street and busted two people, presumably for grass though no one knew for sure. Curious folk gathered across the street to see what was going on, and the bluecoats started coming, hassling people to move on, to clear the streets before they got busted. No one seemed to know what started the arrests, but suddenly people were being grabbed and hustled into a waiting paddy wagon—thirteen in all, held on $100-200 bond for Stopping the Flow of Pedestrian Traffic, one of those bullshit charges trotted out once in a while to Take Care of Contingencies.

 

But meanwhile I am eyeballing about a dozen pigs snorting up on their three-wheelers (Whoopee!) and four black paddy wagons congregating with an equal number of cars kittycorner across Peachtree and everybody getting out and stretching their legs and flexing their arms and hitching up pants and things like that. So I walk down to where Harky is holding forth about how important it is to get badge numbers, because we can’t indict the Whole Force, we gotta get the bad eggs in the basket and I interrupt and say that this dark spot ain’t no good for a riot, how about folks going up on Peachtree, give the Cadillacs and curious Oldsmobiles a chance at a piece of the action in case there was to be some.

 

But the action is apparently over for the night, and instead we are treated to a display of the latest hippie-cooling-off tactics: congregate in a massive show of force, station a paddy wagon at every corner, then start patrolling the area in groups of five—two white cops in motorcycle helmets brandishing nightsticks and three black Task Force cops in soft headgear, just playing it cool, responding with a smile at any taunts. Five down this way, five down that way, five over there and the rest of you guys wait here.

 

Soon it is again Christmas calm on Peaehtree, and the Task Force captain is walking down the street, doling out popcorn from a blue box, and a narc in a blue suit and yellow tie is arguing with kids that, no he ain’t never been to Haight Street ’cause he don’t like California and no, he ain’t about to go to the East Village ’cause there’s too much snow in New York, and I am being offered purchase of various and sundry chemicals much like any other Tuesday night. Folks at the Community Center are receiving calls from the jail, taking down names and charges, arranging with lawyers and Detective Pate comes in and tries to buy some stamps and a girl bleeding from the mouth and crying stumbles through the door and say’s “Cass and Marty beat me up” and J. tells Pate about a friend of his who was busted for 100 pounds of grass and his buddies had to quick unload the other 200 pounds to get him out of jail.

All in all I analyze it as virtually a dry run for the summer. Better get it together, my friends.

-t.c.

Hassles

history, Lifestyles

Great Speckled Bird  June 22, 1970 Vol3#25pg2

There may still be a few folks around who believe that the cops in the hip community are our friends who are trying as best they can to protect us. If you still believe that, look carefully at what happened this week- end.

 On Friday night a group of kids had a good vibes gathering in the park. Some swam in the lake, others played drums. The gathering continued late into the night. Harkey Klinefelter, the “street minister” and Clarence Green the Mayor’s liaison man to hips, left at 3:30 a.m. About 4:30 a cop car came into the park, called for assistance, and began busting people. Eight freaks were busted for “creating a turmoil” and “use of profane language.”

 

Monday morning four of the eight showed up in Municipal Court. Two testified that they were leaving the park when a patrol car pulled up. They explained that they were on their way home. Cool. Then a few minutes later they were busted. Municipal Court Judge R. E. Jones found all four guilty and told them, “Y’all get this out of your system in the daytime.”

 

On Saturday night the management of Tom Jones’ Fish and Chips on the strip decided to give away free watermelon and stay open all night because of the kids in town for the Cosmic Carnival. A crowd of kids gathered inside the store and in front of it having a good time.

 

About 1:00 am Officer Snowden arrested High Pocket’s brother, Charley, for dancing in the store. That’s right — dancing. Last week the Fish & Chips folks asked for and received a permit for dancing. The permit itself hadn’t come in she mail yet, but the store manager had posted the minutes of the Police Alder- manic Committee showing the request on the wall next to the business license. When Charley was arrested manager John Wynn called the owner of the store Mr. Crenshaw. Crenshaw came and talked to Sgt. Bell who was in charge of the precinct station.

 

Bell refused to look at the minutes of the meeting posted on the wall. Although Charley was in jail, things seemed to have quieted down so Crenshaw went back home.

 

About 3:00 a.m. Snowden came back in with a number of cops and said that anyone dancing would be arrested. It looked like the shit was about to hit the fan so Wynn called Crenshaw again. Crenshaw came and was told to go to the precinct station to talk to Bell. The cops left but were back in ten minutes with a paddy wagon. Bongo was arrested. Charley who had just returned from the jail was arrested again. The store’s assistant manager, George Jones, was arrested in front where he had been picking up litter. Manager Wynn was arrested in the doorway of his store. A customer was arrested at the counter where he was buying a coke.. All the kids in front of the store were behind the line police had previously respected as the part of the side- walk kids could safely stand behind. In all, 21 arrests were made for loitering at 3:30 am on a deserted side- walk devoid of anyone who’s passage on the sidewalk could have possibly been blocked by the kids. One excuse of the cops was that the door to the store was blocked. No complaint was made by the management of Fish & Chips—on the contrary they were arrested.

 

The men were piled into one wagon, women in another. The door on the men’s wagon was shut and locked. Officer J.E. Witcher, badge number 2036, came up to the back window of the wagon and said, “Hey you motherfuckers, we’re going to really screw you.” He held up an aerosol can. Someone in the wagon said, “Is that a can of mace?” “No”, he replied, “I’ve got a nine foot dick full of piss,” and he emptied the entire can of mace into the wagon. The night before, the community patrol had complained to the precinct station that 2036 was harassing kids on the street. Capt. Baugh, head of the precinct, says that 2036 was assigned to paddy wagon duty in South Atlanta Saturday night. He promises an “investigation”. You bet!

 

In court Monday, Fish & Chips attorney, Stanley Nylen, defended all those arrested. The cops testified that they warned the kids that they would be arrested if they didn’t move. All the defendants agree that no such warning was given. One cop was asked by Nylen if he knew whether mace was used or not. He said he didn’t, that he had only heard some of the kids claim it had been sprayed. Those in the wagon remember that cop asking them as he leaned into the wagon at the precinct station to write the tickets, “What’s this that’s making my eyes water.”

 

Lunch time approached and only store manager Wynn had been able to testify for the defense. Judge Jones said that if all the defendants were going to testify he would postpone the case until the next day. With 21 people involved and knowing what the verdict would be anyway. Attorney Nylen felt he could not wait. Jones declared a recess to talk with Nylen and the cops. In recess Jones talked to the cops who said that Wynn and Jones had encouraged the kids in the store. In court they had said that they didn’t know Wynn and Jones were store employees. More lies. Jones came back and found everybody guilty. He suspended the fine of all except Wynn, Jones, Bongo, High Pockets (who’s black), Charley, and Fang. Fang was charged with four offenses. The cops tried to blame the whole thing on Fang, who protested the arrests. Nylen and the Fish & Chips people are appealing the convictions of Wynn, Jones and Fang.

 

According to Crenshaw, the Fish & Chips has been harassed by the police since it opened April 2. At various times of the day four or five cops will come in and hang around. There has never been trouble at the Fish & Chips, and they’ve never had to call the cops. Crenshaw charges the police with conspiring to put him out of business. At a press conference Tuesday, Crenshaw announced that he is filing suit against the city for interfering with his right to operate a business. Wynn and Jones intend to file criminal charges against Witcher for the assault with the mace.

 

 

 

Sunday night I was in the Fish & Chips talking With Bongo about the previous night’s big bust. After a while I left. A little later a girl came up to Bongo and said that five cops had been hassling her with talk like, “Where did you get those clothes?” and “Why don’t you wear a bra?” Bongo picked up his pad and pencil and said, “Let’s go get their badge numbers.” They first found Officer W. D. Osborne, who was standing in front of the Metro skin flick. Bongo went over and wrote down the badge number. Bongo said, “It’s people like you, brother, who give us trouble down here. I’ve got a press conference tomorrow, and I’d like to tell them about this and tell Mr. Green.” Gilbert Hinson, owner of the skin flick and head of the 10th Street Businessmen’s Association, was out front and he demanded that Bongo get off his private sidewalk property. Bongo left and went to take another cop’s badge number. Osborne came up and said very softly, “Don’t let me catch you off the strip.” Bongo, who has a way of remaining cooled out, said, “Did you hear that, people? He told me, ‘Don’t let me catch you off the strip.” Then Osborne motioned for Bongo to come over to him. That brought Bongo over the property line of the skin flick Henson shouted, “Arrest him for creating a turmoil.” Osborne grabbed Bongo and took him away through the theater. As they left Bongo shouted, “They’re arresting me for carrying a concealed weapon and it’s only a Boy Scout knife.” Apparently the cops found that the Scout knife was too short to be covered by that ordinance so they charged him with Hinson’s “creating turmoil.” At the jail. Bongo paid a collateral bond and was out of jail but still in the station. A call came saying “Hold Jenkins (Bongo) for additional charge; ” The additional charge was “criminal defamation, a state charge and Bongo spent Sunday night and Monday in jail.

 

In court Bongo told his story of what had happened. Father Gregory Santos of the runaway program, who was with Bongo, testified and corroborated his story. But the cops and Hinson testified that Bongo had accused Osborne of making improper remarks to a woman and had threatened him with, “We have ways of taking care of people like you.” The judge, Jones again, ignored the testimony of Santos and that of Bongo. Accusing Bongo of “attempting to intimidate, the officer and threatening him,” Jones found him guilty on the turmoil charge and bound him over to state court on the defamation charge. Jones said that Bongo should have made a complaint about the cop to the police and the city instead of exposing the cop to “hate and ridicule.” Attorney Al Horn pointed out that that was precisely what Bongo was trying to do in getting the badge numbers, but Jones would not listen.

 

Three harassment busts, three sets of convictions in municipal court where simple justice is never found. Cop 2036 will at most be simply suspended from the force for a few days and I’ll lay bets even that won’t happen.

 

Nobody’s talking peace and love on the strip anymore. No one should. Instead kids are trying to figure out ways to protect themselves from the cops. Apparently somebody began on Friday night. According to rumors on the strip (I was unable to locate any eyewitnesses), a couple of guys were stopped for a grass bust. Apparently one shouted to some passersby, “Hey, can’t you help a brother?” Some did and in the next few minutes one cop was knocked out and the other cop had shot in the leg a guy who was crossing the street. One story says that the cop was knocked out when he hit his head trying to tackle somebody. At any rate, it seems that some freaks helped their brothers resist an illegitimate arrest. Expect more.

 —gene guerrero, jr.

 

Piedmont Park history

Community, history, Politics

The Great Speckled Bird Oct 19, 1970 vol3 #47 pg. 12-13

piedmontoldThe Piedmont Park of today began with the “Cotton States International Exposition of 1895.” The land, purchased from the Gentlemen’s (now Piedmont) Driving Club, was first used for a local event. “The Piedmont Exposition” in 1887 prepared the way for what became a world’s fair of its day.

The Exposition was a project of the South’s young white men-on-the-go who were working to industrialize the South in the North’s image. Many of today’s native white Atlantans look back nostalgically on the Exposition as an example of how Atlanta used to be able to get things done even in the most difficult times.

Atlanta and the South did overcome the effects construction with some bootstrap-tugging and a lot of help from Northern capitalists, particularly the railroad interests. The removal of the remaining Northern troops from the South in 1877 had sealed the fate of the newly “emancipated” blacks. The Exposition announces to the world that the South had made it. The Exposition was basically a trade fair ushering in heavy Northern capital like the textile industry, which for years would exploit Southern workers.

But not everything had been smoothed out by 1895. The Exposition needed financial support. To hold the Exposition it was essential that the U.S. Government make an investment. To convince a still northern Republican Congress to appropriate $200,000 for the Exposition and a Government Building, a committee of Blacks was formed and plans for a Negro Building were made. Congress was not hard to convince by that time and the money was appropriated..

So on opening day, in the auditorium at the top of the steps leading down to the Grand Plaza (now the athletic field), Booker T. Washington made his “Five Fingers” address, arguing that blacks and whites should remain socially as separate as the fingers on a hand, laying the basis for his later differences with a militant professor at Atlanta University, W.E.B. DuBois. The Exposition’s report describes how “a veritable era of good feeling between the white and black was ushered in by the Exposition.”It didn’t work out that way. Jim Crow laws were instituted throughout the South during this period, and Atlanta had “race riots” in the early 1900’s.

The Exposition was a grand affair. Gondolas and “electric launches” plied the waters of the lake. John Philip Sousa’s band played every day in the auditorium. The Liberty Bed was brought down from Philadelphia and placed on exhibit. In the Midway the first motion picture theater in this country did business as “living pictures” and Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show performed in the southeast corner of the park.

The Exposition defined the park to come. The contours of today’s park were shaped by the chain gangs that labored for months preparing for Expo-95. The Grand Plaza became the athletic field, the foundation of the Manufactures Building became the tennis courts. Midway Heights and the Wild West area became the golf course, and the central terrace became the steps by the pavilion.

The City purchased the grounds in 1904 over the objections of some who argued that it was too far from town. By extending the city boundaries in the same year, the city fathers effectively silenced those opponents. During the years 1909-1910 the Exposition grounds were converted into the park, which today remains pretty much the same as it was then.

Now the Atlanta Parks Department has developed a master plan for the renovation of she park in keeping with its “Atlanta Parks and Recreation Plan-Projection 1983” recommendations.

The staff of the parks department has good intentions. Trouble is that Atlanta over the years has fallen far behind national park standards. Based on minimal standards, Atlanta has less than half the park acreage it needs. Over the past few years the Parks Department has been shaping up. A greenhouse complex was built in Piedmont Park, an arborist came on staff, the staff worked hard.

Then came Ivan Allen’s dream-The Atlanta Stadium. To obtain financing for the project the City agreed to guarantee the stadium bonds. The money to guarantee the bonds was taken from the Parks Improvement Fund. One half the fund-about $480,000 has been taken every year except fiscal 1969 and the chances are that it will continue to be lost to the Parks Department.

 Jack Delius. General Manager of Parks, has appealed to the Aldermanic Ordinance and Legislation Committee to request that the State Legislature increase Parks Improvement Fund, but so far nothing done. So the Parks department dues the best it can with limited resources to implement its vision of 1983.

So that means that the Piedmont Park Master Plan does not really fall in line with its 1983 projections. The report describes Piedmont Park as the only park in the city which “offers a large land area for unstructured leisure time use.” The report recognizes that one of the more common uses of a park is “simply the pleasure of getting away from traffic, buildings and others characteristics to enjoy strolling along wooded walks among trees and in fields or rowing a boat across a pond.” In fact the plan calls for the creation of four other large parks in the city to provide open space for “unstructured leisure time.”

But if the City’s Master Plan is put into effect as it stands, most of Piedmont Park’s usable “leisure time” space will be destroyed. The plan will create a central zone full of structures, parking lots, and program activities, areas bounded on the south by a pretty golf course, inaccessible to all but a few golfers, and a beautiful forest to the north, untouched by the plan but still used by a relatively few persons.

piedmonttoday Two of the main features of the plan should be implemented immediately. The Parks Department would like to close the park to cars and provide inexpensive bicycle rental to those who prefer wheels to foot. Boat rental is planned on the lakes, which are eventually to be connected with a bridge.

The problem is that the plan calls for lots of parking when the streets are closed. Land adjacent to the park is regarded as too expensive; another idea, to build underground parking under the tennis courts was rejected for the same reason. So parking is planned for the eastern and northern shores of the swimming lake, the area between the Legion Post and the 14th Street Gate, and the area around the greenhouses. That’s a hell of a lot of the park’s best “leisure time” space.

Is it wise to plan extensive parking in a central park along major traffic arteries in a city which must develop effective mass transportation? Is parking needed when office parking lots along nearby Peachtree Street stand empty over the weekends? What’s the sense of closing the park streets to cars if they are going to be sitting on parking lots inside the park?

The free and open athletic field will be lost in the plan. A new $387,000 softball tournament facility was to have been built this year in the southern end of the field. The city has an extensive softball program which serves many people. More lighted diamonds are needed. But tournament facilities are used for tournaments only one week out of the year and the complex will fence in over half of the athletic field. Perhaps the softball teams could get by with lights on all the diamonds and portable grandstands which would allow for other uses than just softball? Maybe the softball complex is one thing which could easily be located on other city property? In fact, the Atlanta Civic Design Commission, an advisory group, has come out against the complex, suggesting that it might be located at Lakewood Park. Apparently work on the complex (if it stays in the park) would probably not begin until next winter.

Also on the athletic field is to be a large swimming pool facility to replace the swimming lake. The Health Department says that the present facilities do not meet its requirements because there is no continuous filtration or automatic chlorination. The combination of the pool and softball facilities will mean little or no space for kite flying, informal sports, or music concerts.

To replace the present swimming facilities a waterside concert area is planned with a shell stage out over the water and seating for 1500—2000 where the present concession building stands. A smaller amphitheater is projected for the west end of the fishing lake near the 12th Street entrance.

 A restaurant and sidewalk cafe will be located along the north shore of the fishing lake. If they were reasonably priced that might not be too bad, except that very nice free space is destroyed. Then at the 14th Street entrance a gym and recreation center will be built. Both should be established in this community, both are needed-but perhaps not in the park.

The master plan is preliminary, subject to change. But three projects—softball complex, gym, and pool have been approved by the Aldermanic Parks Committee, although only funds for the softball complex have been allocated. No community or public hearings have been held on either the master plan or the three approved projects. According to Delius, hearings of some sort are planned this winter. The Bird will keep you informed of developments in the Park. When hearings are held we’ll let you know so you can attend. If they are not held we’ll let you know so you can raise hell. The park should not be lost to this community. It’s too important.

—gene guerrero