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Page 22 Flagpole Magazine February 14, 1 §9
William Orten Carlton=ORT
Special Correspondent for Flagpole
For those of you who happened to no
tice, last week’s column (the cne about my
spending the night in jail) was anything but
topical. Yup, it was “in-the-can" material,
and here I am, back again, with another
“live" column, as it were. Enjoy, and listen to
it breathe.
It was quite a weekend, it was. Some
years ago I promised myself an end to such
things, saying that I was getting too old to go
like a house afire all the time the way I did
when I was 24, but there are exceptions to
performance in every case. Maybe it was
the blue cheese dressing at the Majestic ..
. but I’m getting ahead of myself. It was
quite a weekend: it started on Thursday, as
all truly good weekends do, with Wide
spread Panic (and Phish) at the Georgia
Theatre and The Ellen James Society and
Michelle Malone and Drag The River at The
Rockfish Palace. Back to Widespread
Panic for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to
see you out-of-town,” I hinted congratulato-
rially, “and you offered once to let me in
sometime." Sam nodded. “Well, you're
playing tomorrow night in Gainesville," I
drawled off, thinking about a football game
I saw there once, many years ago, where
the Athens High Trojans (as they were then)
were pitted against the Gainesville Red
Elephants . . . and the Trojans won, of
course. My dad drove the whole group of us
up there and enjoyed it as much as we did.
I’ll get back to him later, too. Anyhow, my
relationship with Gainesville has been
pleasant enough, but I never associated
Gainesville with the sort of bands that go
over in Athens: only with “cover" bands and
metal and the like . .. stuff you can hear in
Tonganoxie, Kansas or Fremont, California
or Sacoo/Biddeford, Maine. Back to Sam.
He nodded assertively. “Yeah, we’re at
Brenau College,” he finally admitted. “It
oughta be a good show. You should come
and hear us." I was thrilled with the excuse
for a trip anyplace out of Athens for just a
little while, so I said “You bet,” and readied
myself for a fun time.
It was a fun time: there were all ages
there from high schoolers to parents to me,
and I bet I gave out 35 Flagpoles to folks
from the likes of musi?-starved North Geor
gia College in Dahionega, where R. O. T. C.
is mandatory for mer * you live on campjs
and these reaaaaallllly short haircuts for
guys are the norm (boy, would I stick out like
a sore thumb there). Everyone was really
glad to see how well we’re doing, and
wished Us well... thought you’d like to know
that. The gig lasted until after 1:00 and drew
several people. They had a good time,
except for one dude who passed out from
drinking some really cheap wine that’s
probably filtered through Hupmobile radia
tors or the like. Brenau wants the boys
back, saying they went over far better than
expected. “They’re a lot better than heavy
metal," one girl told me. Stay tuned: I’ll keep
you posted ... or toasted.
Addiction sets in sometimes. “Would
you like to come see us at The Cotton Club
tomorrow night?" I was asked at least seven
times by band members and others of the
cast. “Okay, I’ll be there. I need to stay out
of Athens for awhile," I mused as I wondered
where I’d stay in the fog outside that cut
visibility down to less than belly-button dis
tance (it was fog; I’m not that fat).
I drove through the fog to Riverdale and
Pointes South, to make a blurry, bad pun
(my friends live in Pointe South Subdivision)
and stayed on the spare bed. The band was
fun. They played really well, I missed Phish
again, and I gave out another 40 copies of
Ye Hometown Rag, The Flagpole. People
were, again, impressed. Hey, we ain’t per-
fekt, but we have our hearts in it, and that’s
what counts . . . pardon our typos some
times .. . okay?
Back to Panic. They played even better
on-the-road than they did in town, as if to
satisfy folks they don’t know as well twice as
satisfactorily as they do the ones they al
ready know. Nobody proves themselves
better than Widespread Panic, and hard
work and the right management are what it
takes: the proper combination of sweat and
brains and all the originality thrown in that
the occasion may call for. The light bulb
comes on, if dimly: I now begin to under
stand what people see in the Grateful Dead,
and why people “follow" them so, and some
have for 25 years or just under. If Wide
spread Panic is any indication, I'm begin
ning to wonder just what the heck it is that
I’ve missed all these years ....
Panic discussed, the trip was great in
that I managed to hit several thrift stores,
visit Wax ‘N’ Facts, stop in at the post offices
in Ellenwood, Ga. (30049) and Conley, Ga.
(30027), and next trip, I’ll try to hit Rex, Ga.
(30273) and Inman, Ga. (30232) and
Woolsey, Ga. (30294). Rex is the only post
office in Georgia named after a dog, unless
someone lied to me about the origin of the
name of Crawford vide. Barf.
And then I got to hug Judy and hug her
and hug her. Judy is a former girlfriend who
still means a lot to me and always will. Boy,
was she actually glad to see me! I bid her
and Lorelei, her new car, the best of wells.
Same bidding to Ron and Jan and John
and many thanks for the spare bed and the
cheese toast and the company. There. In
print it is, and there can be no denial: it’s
great to have friends, but you have to earn
that nomenclature... it doesn't just happen.
Now to Music. As this comes out, you will
(if you have any sense) be flocking to the 40
Watt Club to see Government Cheese, that
wacky double duo from Bowling Green, KY.
That’s Tuesday night, February 13th .. .
okay? They’rrrre terrif!
Then, Thursday at The Watt, Brave
Combo slides into town to polkaway at you
heartstrings (they don’t provide those) and
schottischyou into submission. If anyone is
looking for me, I’ll be at both shows or
languishing in some funeral home some
place otherwise ...so expect to see me one
way or the other, y’hear? (If packed in
formaldehyde, don’t expect me to enjoy the
show as much as all of you who show up
well.) (Enough death jokes: I’m NOT de
spondent, okay?? Seriously, don’t worry
about me: it’s a joke, like something out
of “Harold and Maude’’...hell, like EVERY
THING out of “Harold and Maude!"
The blue cheese dressing att The Ma
jestic in Atlanta is wondrous. The service
in the place (it is a famed diner on Ponce
de Leon Avenue, in the same spot since
1936,1 believe) runs the gamut from excel
lent to mediocre to horrific...what I got was
a horror story, and not a Picture Show,
although it was Rocky. The blue cheese
dressing more than made up for it, though.
Yum. Double Yum.
Two moie points. First, reception out-of-
town for The Flagpole has been universally
well-stated and warm; I think we could send
several bundles to Atlanta to Wuxtry and