50 years ago . . . January 1975. I had just turned 21 the previous November.

I was living in the house on Bollinger with Tom, Bill and Nick. We had band gear set up in what would normally have been the dining room. None of us (evidently) knew anything about cleaning house so the place was filthy. Dirty dishes would stack up in the kitchen until someone – usually Nick – would crack and clean them up. Did we have a vacuum cleaner? Don’t remember.

Tom had brought his two cats over from his apartment in Sunnyvale but was concerned that they would run away so he kept them locked in the garage where they slowly went crazy. I only went out there a couple of times, but I remember seeing the exposed studs of the garage walls badly scratched all around up to a height of about 4 feet. I don’t know why we didn’t even let them in the house. Maybe we weren’t supposed to have pets.

I was in my third year at DeAnza. I had finished the requirements for a Music degree except for the Gen Ed stuff but stayed on the extra year so I could play bass in the #1 band. No question, that was a great experience. I had exited my old band, April, with Tom and Nick, in order to concentrate on jazz. They had reincarnated it with some new players and called it Dry Creek.

I don’t remember if Tim I and me had started Higher Ground yet. I was doing student setup work at Flint Center for a pittance. I had pretty much tapped out the classes available in the Theatre department so my only contact with them was when they came into Flint.

The four of us had moved into the Bollinger house a year earlier on a 14 month lease. The owner didn’t want to have to deal with finding tenants during the holidays again so he added two months to the standard 12. I wasn’t making enough money to continue and I’m pretty sure the owner wanted us out of there. (I’ve driven by that house recently and it looks just the same only rattier. I don’t think it has even been painted in all that time.)

There was drug use there. Mostly weed, but I remember seeing cocaine at least once. I never got into that and I was moving away from smoking already. Drinking. It was while I was living at that house that Tom’s mother got remarried and I got completely wasted on cheap champagne. I can still remember the spectacular hangover the next day.

It was probably around this time that I went to Dad and asked him if I could move back home. He said that was fine. It was a big deal for me because I was determined to be independent even though I really wasn’t. In hindsight, it is interesting that I went to Dad only. I think I even drove up to Menlo Park to talk to him at his office just so it would be him only. Maybe I was embarrassed to show up at his house and have to ask in front of everybody. I’m pretty sure I had stayed away as much as possible during the 1974 year. Mr Independent!

For income, besides working at Flint, I was playing music gigs on bass. I was in a quartet with some people (Susie, Greg and Tony) from the DeAnza band, We mostly did standards from fake books although I remember Susie wanting to branch out to more pop stuff. We didn’t really have a singer so that didn’t go very far. I was raw and learning fast but the others were good jazz players. I’m pretty sure I was the oldest. I also played in a big band run by a guy named Joe Doll. We did swing tunes from the 40s and some newer pop things (‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon’) for older audiences. I may or may not have date books from those years . . . (not looking now).

. . .

OK, I did some research. I did have Higher Ground so there was a little income from that as well. I think it wasn’t until later in the year that I started playing in the evening jazz band at DeAnza (technically it was a Music Department class). There was no money in that but another great experience. They called it the Daddy-o’s because most of the members were older and very experienced. Bass players were in short supply in those days! The Daddy-o’s were led by a pianist named Bob Russell.

With the death of Jimmy Carter recently, Sepi and I have talked a lot about the politics of those years. I’m sure I was aware of those things but it wasn’t important to me. Tom and I, in particular, were big Giants fans and we went to some games. How clueless we were going to a game in Candlestick at night in clothes we had worn that day in the South Bay! For those who don’t know, Candlestick was famously cold at night. Shorts and a light jacket didn’t cut it but we just didn’t think about it. We were in our little cocoon.

Later in the year I got a job at a department store called Mervyn’s working the stock room. I was able to move out again, this time to a room in a small house with Peter I in Mountain View. That’s a story for another day.