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The Tom Constanten Chronicles, Part 4: “How Mad Is He!?”
Step back in time as Tom Constanten narrates a series of personal chronicles. Listen to firsthand accounts of life with Pigpen, musical breakthroughs, and unforgettable moments from the heart of the 60s music scene.
The first joint I ever smoked was rolled, lit, and put in my mouth by Bobby Petersen. He dropped by the apartment on Durant Avenue in Berkeley that Phil and I shared. He had this way of using his pocket knife to taper the ends that made them easy to open but kept them secure.
One afternoon he and I walked along Strawberry Creek, which runs through the U.C. campus. There were a couple of culverts, which necessitated a brief return to civilization, but mainly we stayed on course. It was like another world, so close yet so far from the collegial bustle above. He was a fountain of encouragement, especially for a green 17-year-old like me.
Phil was a volunteer at KPFA back then and would come home with reel-to-reel recordings of avant-garde pieces by Boulez, Stockhausen, et al. I wish I still had them! Poésie pour Pouvoir might be hard to find these days!
One time he was late for work (marking the board at Dean Witter), grousing and grumbling around the apartment, and a small earthquake hit. I was still in bed, under the covers, half-awake. “Holy shit!” I thought. “How mad is he!?”
Another time Phil took me to see Miles Davis at the Jazz Workshop on Broadway in San Francisco. By happy coincidence, Miles had Tony Williams on drums, who was underage. That meant they weren’t serving alcohol that night, and I could get in!
