Grateful Dead—Springer’s Inn, Gresham, OR, w/Palace Meat Market, May 30, 1969
In May of 1969, the Grateful Dead finally completed the recording of Aoxomoxoa. The original studio work for the album was finished at the end of 1968, with a tentative title of Earthquake Country. The Dead being the Dead, chose to re-record the album on a newly-available 16-track Ampex recorder. Endless tweaking, overdubs, and madcap experimentation took a few more months, leaving the band knee-deep in debt to Warner Brothers for a whopping $150,000 buckeroos. Given this hefty financial obligation, the Dead did the only thing they could do—they embarked on a vigorous schedule of regional and national touring. The May dates alone included a few nights at Winterland with the Jefferson Airplane & Mongo Santamaria, The Aztec Bowl at San Diego State College, a Campolindo High School event, two appearances at The Big Rock Pow Wow in Hollywood, Forida, and a show at UC Santa Barbara’s Robertson Gym with the Youngbloods.
The month concluded with a pair of weekend performances in Oregon. Local Eugene garage rockers, Palace Meat Market, shared the bill. The Dead always loved playing to the Oregon crowds, so it seemed fitting that they rounded out the May calendar with a few almost hometown shows. The Saturday night concert was held at the 9000-seat University of Oregon McArthur Court, which you can read about here. The Friday evening affair took place at Springer’s Inn, 15 miles east of Portland in the town of Gresham. In addition to hosting rock shows, Springer’s also served as a chicken farm, a part-time flea market, and a former 1950s dance joint that hosted regular hootenanny parties for locals to show off their Madison and Hand Jive moves.
This Grateful Dead show came into prominence via the excellent Michael Lydon Rolling Stone cover feature in August of ‘69. In the article, Lydon described Springer’s Inn as “…a country and western place, walls all knotty pine, and beside the stage, the Nashville stars of the past thirty years grin glossily from autographed photos…It is sardine, ass-to-ass packed, and drippingly hot inside.” The promoter shared that the Dead got a bigger crowd than even Buck Owens. Jerry must of loved hearing that given his fondness for the entire Owens’ songbook and the raunchy, Telecaster twang of Buck’s guitarist Don Rich. Of course, the band would take a kind of the Buck Owens approach on Workingman's Dead, crafting songs that were direct tributes to the Bakersfield country & western style of music.
Bear’s tape opens with a blazing Morning Dew, duly highlighted by the rush of Mickey’s gong. Bobby Weir’s new cover Me & My Uncle is next. Garcia signals the tune and the big spaghetti western leads are a real blast. They continue the groove with a slightly messy Doin’ That Rag. Jerry pops a string and they pull back and end the tune. Garcia: “You can talk amongst yourselves, or maybe it’s ‘talk amongst yourself’ or ‘you can talk to yourself.’” Some audience members shout a few undecipherable remarks back at the band, but they’re into King Bee now. Pig front and center. It’s a down-and-dirty version and the Gresham crowd digs it. “Play the blues!” shouts a local. “Fuck you, man,” Mickey shouts back, “go hear a blues band if you want that, go dig Mike Bloomfield.”
Pig Pen’s reading of Slim Harpo’s King Bee and the zesty stage banter pave the way for the big jam portion of the night, beginning with a 23-minute Dark Star > Cosmic Charlie pairing. Jerry and company dive full speed ahead into the Dark Star jam, which stays bright—complete with post-sputnik weirdness—before dissolving purposefully to a hush, and then escalating under Weir’s guidance into Cosmic Charlie. St. Stephen begins the next jam medley; tonight’s reading is somewhat laidback, with a lengthy introduction and ample Garcia magic. The Eleven that emerges next is absolutely crackling with energy and played at breakneck speed. The transition into Turn On Your Lovelight is abrupt, courtesy of a tape cut, but barely noticeable. Lovelight keeps the juice flowing throughout, bouncing between Garcia jams and Pig’s mojo sociolect.
Oregon seemed to bring out the best in the Grateful Dead, and this Springer’s show is no exception. It might not be on everybody’s list for peak ‘69 outings, but who cares? The Dead were at their most creative and best when they were walking that musical tightrope where at any point things could just careen off the tracks, and this Owsley recording is rife with exquisite detours. Worts and all, the show reveals seven musicians listening closely to each other, insisting on nothing less than a full-on torrent of rhythms and an abiding belief in the transcendent powers of high-energy improvisation. And, yes, there are plenty of moments of sloppy, rushed, off-key Good Old Grateful Dead here—the kind of grand imperfection that Garcia found highly amusing.
Backstage the previous night at Robertson Gym, Jerry quipped “I can get behind falling to pieces before an audience sometimes. We’re not performers; we are who we are for those moments we’re before the public, and that’s not always at the peak.” Mickey graciously followed “I’ll fuck up for an audience. My pleasure, we’ll take you as low and mean as you want to go.”