Page 24 - the NOISE July 2013

heF and the dead
Hugh Hefner needed to be hip. The Playboy magnate could not let the times pass him by. He had to stay abreast of what the youth were into. The survival of his magazine, his empire, and the Playboy lifestyle depended on it. Uncool was not an option.
In 1959-1960, Hef hosted Playboy’s Penthouse, a program broadcast locally in Chicago which purported to recreate a typical night at the Playboy Mansion with celebrity buddies “just dropping in” to drink martinis and crack jokes and ogle the girls.
Hef signed a deal with CBS in late 1968 to host Playboy After Dark, a coast-to-coast version of his earlier show, but recast as a sort of bridge to the hippie culture overtaking America. The guest stars were the usual tired showbiz geezers, but the musi- cal acts were first-rate: James Brown, Steppenwolf, Iron Butterfly, Grand Funk Railroad, Three Dog Night, Harry Nilsson, Fleetwood Mac, The Byrds, and more. It was Hef’s ticket to hip.
Playboy writer/cartoonist/oddball Shel Silverstein was intro- duced to the Grateful Dead, the hippiest of the hippie bands in 1968. Shel asked if they were interested in performing on Play- boy After Dark. The Dead, who had never done a TV appearance, were intrigued; not only at the exposure, but at the chance for a great prank. They met Hef and all was groovy. A date was set for the taping: January 18, 1969.
The Dead’s live soundman and chief prankster was Bear, aka Augustus Owsley Stanley III. Bear came from a privileged back- ground: his grandfather (Owsley Stanley The First) was a U.S. Senator and Governor of Kentucky. After falling in with Ken Kes- ey’s crowd, the amateur chemist found his purpose in life: to turn on the world. Between 1965-1967, he manufactured over a mil- lion hits of exceptionally pure LSD, which were distributed free. Among the recipients were the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. For years afterward, “Owsley Acid” meant quality product.
When the Dead played Kesey’s Acid Tests, the LSD was located in a punch bowl, open to all. When they started performing in concert halls, they had to figure out new ways of turning every- one on. If a communal dispenser wasn’t available, Bear and the band would sneak around and dose people’s drinks on the sly. No one was sure what the scene on the set of Playboy After Dark would be like, but Bear was bringing two loaded eyedroppers just in case.
Hef did not learn of the Dead’s backstage antics until after they were already booked. Despite all his attempts to be hip, Hef was frightened of getting dosed. He had never taken LSD and wasn’t about to start now. He brought Shel Silverstein into his confidence and Shel offered to be his beverage protector.
Coca-Cola was Hef’s drink of choice. His contract stipulated two cases always on set. They were watched over by an aide who opened each bottle and handed it only to Shel, who delivered it directly to Hef and then kept his eyes peeled for any hijinx.
The Dead arrived at the CBS Studios in Los Angeles with freak flags flying. They found the atmosphere a bit stodgy and uptight. The women were attractive, but all wore cocktail dresses. Except
hugh hefner
the two Token Negroes, every man present was wearing a tux or a suit jacket/turtleneck/slacks combo. None had hair past their shoulders. Bunnies on loan from the L.A. Playboy Club circulated with hors d’oevres. The place felt like a dentists’ convention.
The band set up next to an impressive-looking wall of ceiling- to-floor stereo equipment. Intrigued, keyboardist Tom “TC” Con- stanten removed one of the panels to peek behind it. There were no wires or anything attached. The entire backdrop was a false front.
At the time, the Grateful Dead were a seven-piece: Jerry Gar- cia and Bob Weir on guitars, Phil Lesh on bass, drummers Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart, TC on keyboards, and conga play- er/vocalist Pigpen. With such a large group, balance issues were important, and Bear assumed he would be working closely with the studio crew.
To his dismay, Bear was told that CBS ran an all-union house. Not only was his advice unwelcome, he was not allowed to ad- just one microphone or even be present in the control room while the Dead were playing. Although Bear was older than sev- eral of the techs, he looked like a freak and the CBS guys openly snickered at him. Bear stalked out of the booth, fuming.
This was the deciding moment. Time to change the chan- nel, folks. Bear strolled over to the catering station and casually dumped the eyedroppers into the coffee urn. He then went up to Garcia and murmured in his ear:
“It’s in the coffee. Both droppers.” “Out of sight.”
The word spread. The Dead and co. all partook, except for ab- stainers TC and Pigpen. No one outside their camp was clued in. Many of the extras were returning from dinner and poured a cup or two. By the time the shoot began, the whole room was vibrat- ing and Bear’s mood had lifted considerably. He and the band grinned at each other.
“Say, this is some good coffee!”
“Really gives you a lift, doesn’t it?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the LSD Broadcasting Network is on
the air!”
“Receiving signal loud and clear ... and my TV’s not even
plugged in!”
Jerry Garcia had agreed to a short interview before the set. He
was instructed to make small talk as the camera moved through the “party” to their table. Garcia, incongruous among the tux- edoed crowd in a rainbow colored poncho with long hair and beard, was flying on acid and did as he was told.
JG: Well, so there we were. Six or seven of us, armed to the teeth with buck knives ...
HH: (interrupting) Jerry, the Grateful Dead has been part of the San Francisco scene about four or five years. Is the hippie scene changing now? I understand that um ...
JG: Yeah, well we’re all big people now.
HH: I understand the Haight-Ashbury scene has changed a good deal.
JG: Well, Haight-Ashbury is just a place, you know? It’s just a
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