Grateful Memories
May 13th, 2007 by 
Rory Harper
This is not a picture of me, though I’ve frequently been accused of looking much like that dude. I’m sure that people also often thought he was me.
Into the Wayback Machine again,
Among other efforts, we often provided medical care at rock concerts. It was usually primitive stuff, with an aid station set up from superfluous furniture at the venue, some volunteers cruising the crowd in case somebody got into trouble, and a couple of nurses and maybe a doctor at the station. If somebody got too sick, we called an ambulance. As far as I know, we never lost anybody at one of those events.
Through much of the Seventies, the Hofheinz Pavilion at the
We worked the Rolling Stones double-header on June 25, 1972 with a much larger crew than usual. It was boiling, hysterical chaos throughout, as were most of the Stones concerts on that tour. The cops were out of control, fearful of a riot, and violently harassing the kids.
Who were crazed in return. There were too many teeny-boppers of both genders, kids who by all rights shouldn’t have been allowed out without a parent in attendance. They didn’t know how to behave. There were speed-crazed gate-crashers. There were a lot of heavy drugs circulating, and overdoses, and group-vomiting, and freaking-out to be had. Read the Wiki in the link above to get a flavor of what I’m talking about. We worked hard that day and night, and it was scary.
Madness, pure and simple. Everything else aside, the crowd that night was the sort that gives a bad name to drug abuse.
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Glide forward to November 18, 1972. Listen to the excellent tape of the Grateful Dead’s Hofheinz concert here at the Internet Archive.
I was never much of a DeadHead, though I certainly respected what they were doing. I just liked much harder rock, and still do.
They set up their stage gear while we set up our aid station that morning. The crowd drifted in quietly anticipatory, filled the place, and settled into their seats.
We laid back and enjoyed the music. There was zero hassle the entire day. The few police were bored as hell. It was an elderly crowd, all in their early to mid 20’s. Everybody was stoned and mellow, nothing but grass and psychedelics, as far as I could tell. This crowd knew how to take drugs properly.
We did have one incident. Only one, during the entire concert. A roady for the Dead had stuffed wads of cotton into his ears during sound-check. One of the wads got in so deeply that he couldn’t get it back out, and it was annoying.
Our daring doctor successfully performed the delicate surgery required and released him back to work.
Then we mellowed out some more for the rest of the evening.
The Dead also played the next day. I have no memory one way or the other on whether we worked that one. We certainly didn’t need to.
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Incidentally, the tickets indicate that the Allman Brothers played that day. I also have no memory whatsoever of hearing them. What can I say….
The Grateful Dead were likely the first band to actually encourage their fans to record their concerts and trade them freely. There are thousands of the damn things out there, many of them of professional quality. Click the pic of Jerry to hear what many consider to be their finest performance, at
Today’s post was triggered by this post at Booman Tribune regarding this landmark concert, and the recent proclamation of Grateful Dead Day. This tape is the one that I was listening to when I did my post, Measured Impatience, in celebration of my return to full personhood.
Posted in History, Music, People, Pop. Culture, Rory | 
8 Comments »
July 13th, 2008 at 10:18 pm
Rory,
And who were Nancy and Vicky? Hangers-on? What was the address of Inlet?
I doubt you know these things.
July 13th, 2008 at 11:12 pm
Ooh, another quiz! Man, I’m getting a heavy nostalgia rush tonight…
Though your last line feels a little aggro to me. Infelicitous phrasing?
Okay, I remember two Nancies, both volunteers. One was tall and slender, with amazing legs. The other was a short, compact teacher. Sorry about any sexism here, but they were both hotties.
The only Vicki I remember was Vicki Moreland, one of the original gang of founders, who I’m told were mostly Rice students, though I don’t think I knew that at the time. Also, a hottie, of course. Was hooked up with a guy named James, who was exceedingly strange, even for those days.
Vicki and James and I, among others, lived in a commune over in Riverside for awhile, which is how I got sucked into the vortex.
FWIW, I think John Cleveland and Judy Weiser were both founders, too. Not sure if Jackie was.
I have a really vague memory of a Nancy who was a founder, too, but she may have been before my time, as I started volunteering maybe a half a year or so (?) after Inlet started.
I saw Vicki once, many years later — she was, I think, living in Washington, visiting Houston. Was still doing some kind of holistic therapy thing for work, but I don’t remember details.
…It never occurred to me to think of anyone as being a ‘hanger-on’. There were staff, and volunteers, and friends…
As far as location, the first Inlet was on Hyde Park, and was a run-down single-story with a great front porch. The second was on Hawthorne, a nondescript two-story across the street from a Krishna temple. I used to like getting woken up by the early-morning chanting, since I lived there for a year or so.
One was 704 or 714, one was 708, I think, but I don’t remember which was which.
The third Inlet wasn’t really an Inlet in my opinion, as it was located in a strip mall, over by Kirby and Richmond. Chuck and Donnie moved it there after I left, when money got impossibly tight. But it was really gone by then, IMHO. The culture had died, no more hippies left, just 714 freaks, speed freaks, and junkies…
So — did you and I know each other? ‘Cause I’m afraid I don’t remember you, and I get the impression that you don’t remember me. Were you an Inlet person, or a different part of the wondrous thing that was Montrose for a couple of years?
And who were Cajun and Star?
July 13th, 2008 at 11:31 pm
Well, I can tell you that your memory is a bit fuzzy. Sorry if it sounds arrogant, but I’ve met a couple of people, over the years, who claimed to have been in on Inlet’s founding.
I can tell you that I was. I met Nancy and Vicky – the ONLY 2 founders – who, along with Susan and myself, really formed the core of the original Itlet. Yeah; the first Inlet was at 708 Hyde Park. Weirdly, some guy bought the house a few years back and re-painted it the original yellow. I didn’t remember it being so small.
Nancy and Vicky had been helping to run a runaway home when I met them, but Sister Lewis Marie was the nominal head of it, with her order backing it. When Sister Marie refused to follow her order’s directive to reveal runaway names to the cops, the order had her thrown into St. Luke’s lock ward and drugged. That’s when Nancy, Vicky, Susan and myself (and maybe a few others, though I never recall hearing your name) started Inlet.
Eventually David, a recent Psych graduate and back from overseas (remember where from?) joined us.
We had 2 staff houses; one was mine, where 5 people lived. David, Sandy Nash (my kung fu instructor), Elaine and one other gal.
Vicky had her own house, although James had been out of the picture since before Inlet.
Nancy’s house was the McGowan House; she and Janet and a couple of other staffers lived there.
There’s a great story about how Nancy and I started living together, but that’s sort of private. She was not, I’m sure you’ll remember, a good looking woman by any stretch, but she was the most beautiful person I’ve ever met (before or since). She wanted to get married and have kids, but I just couldn’t do the kids part – I knew about the world coming up – the world that we’re in now.
So, a former boyfriend from New Orleans moved up, they got married and moved off to Tenn. He was wealthy, so she never had to use her license, as far as I know. Remember what her license was in?
I figure, since I was in on the founding (in the 70′s bro – never the 60′s) and live with Nancy and then Vicky, that I should know how things went down.
If you were really in on it, refresh me as to who you are.
Sorry – but I gotta call you out on this.
July 13th, 2008 at 11:35 pm
BTW, it was sad to have Vicky give in to James and move to Dallas. He was one sick fuck.
After 2 years, all 3 of us left within 3 months of each other.
If you EVER hear from Nancy or Vicky – or find out how to communicate with them – please e-mail me at my private e-mail (if you don’t have it, I’ll give it to you). Nancy and Vicky changed my life – and I never understood how much until 10 years later, and I owe them more than I can ever begin to repay, but I would, at least, like to say, “Thanks!” I would not be the person I am now if not for them.
July 13th, 2008 at 11:47 pm
And no; John and Judy were not founders, AFAIK. Don’t recall their names.
If you were a director, it was after Nancy, Vicky and myself had left, and that would have been late 71 or early 72 (my memory is a bit fuzzy, as well)
I could look on my college transcripts, as I’d started by to college before I quit the center. I had 1 year at OU, then the Navy (out in May of 70), then hooked up with Nancy and Vicky at the runaway shelter, then was with them at the start of Inlet. Inlet was never in operation in the 60′s.
July 13th, 2008 at 11:57 pm
….Uh, I’m not sure what you’re calling me out on….
And ALL of my memories of that time, with a few shiny exceptions, are fuzzy.
First — I’ve never claimed to be a founder of Inlet, here or elsewhere. I frankly can’t imagine why anyone should feel the need to b.s. on that issue. Inlet was great and incredibly difficult, and important to me for more years than it probably should have been. But it’s history, and likely trivial at best to anyone who wasn’t deeply involved with it. Why lie about it?
I volunteered there after it started, and if you say it was 1970, or even 1971, I’m down with that.
And, like I said, I don’t remember your Nancy or you. Maybe you guys had moved on by the time I was there?
…Yeah, years later, the house was tiny. And the porch was gone…
I do remember an Elaine. Thick glasses, big teeth. Smart and good and warm.
And I’m pretty sure that Vicki and James were on and off again multiple times, and that at least part of that time was well after I was at Inlet.
I never heard a word about Sister Lewis Marie. That part sucks, big time. We did do a lot of work with Father John Minter and Father Dave, from Metropolitan Ministries, though. Amazingly good, kind, gentle people.
Runaway home? — was that Family Connection? We always hung out with them a bunch, and were already doing so by the time I got there. I ended up working with Roger and Jim and Tee and Susan at Sand Dollar, which was another runaway home, many years later. Sadly, I was completely burnt out by then, and shouldn’t have still been trying to do that sort of work.
I’m still conflicted and sorrowful about a lot of that time. I stayed longer than was good for me, and watched the community crash and burn around me, when the sub-culture died, and the drugs got nasty.
Anyhow, Larry — I hope I’m not over-interpreting from a couple of posts here from you, but it sounds like you’re pretty protective of that time in your life and the memories of it.
Me, too. We did a good thing. It just didn’t last.
July 14th, 2008 at 12:23 am
Well. Gotta get to sleep now: Monday morning is getting too near.
In any case, it’s been a blast hanging out here with you tonight. Serious nostalgia rush. Hope we didn’t bore everybody else to death.
It sounds like we both just missed each other by a couple of months. Or were stoned…
I’d love to hear from Vicki again, too. Incredibly bright wonderful lady, and I was a little in love with her for a couple of years.
I doubt that I’ll ever hear from her again, but if I do, I have indeed picked up your e-mail from your posting here. Feel free to e-mail me at eatourbrains-dott–com at gmail and I’ll give you mine, if you’d like to chat some more.
July 14th, 2008 at 12:38 am
Rory,
Family Connection – yes; that was it.
I guess that you must have come along afer 72 or 73; if not, you’d have remembered Nancy.
She and Vicky were both OT’s (Occupational therapists) and they WERE Inlet. Susan and I brought up the rear on he group, and then David Swift (who’s brother Tom Swift, still lives in Houston, I think).
Drugs were already nasty in 71.
Lots of OD’s and lots of violence (thus, the needy for Sandy).
We all stayed longer than we should have, I think. Still, I don’t regret anything except losing touch with Nancy, Vicky, Susan and David. We WERE Inlet.
My time took a huge toll on me, at the time. In retrospect, though, if not for that time, I wouldn’t be the person I am now. At first, I wasn’t equipped to do the job, but Nancy and Vicky soon fixed that; I think it only took them a year!
Some of my best memories are of all of us sitting around a candle made in a Baskin-Robbins container (about a foot high), in my living room, tripping and discussing the heady issues of existence – while killing the roaches that were attracted to the light.
Naturally, we had a rule about having to have been down for at least 12 hours before going back on duty.
The toll was especially heavy on Vicky; she had a psychotic break for a couple of weeks, then moved to Dallas to be with James. So, I moved in with Janet, who was still around. I don’t remember much about her, though, except she was gorgeous inside and out.
Ah; the days before rampant STDs.
I had already started back to school part-time; when I quit Inlet (after I left Janet), I finished my degree in Elem Ed at the UofH (1976). Taught 4th grade in Houston and Denver.
One thing that Inlet did for me was to imbue me with a view of ‘choice’ that is at odds with what society thinks that ‘choice’ is – even though society can define it without using self-referential statements.
Yeah; I’m defensive of that time. Like I’ve said, I’ve run across posers who’ve claimed to have been a ‘founder’ of Inlet. To have been a founder meant blood, sweat and tears; it meant living on $25/month (which we did, thanks to our association with The Houston Food Co-Op and cheap rents; my house – a 5 bedroom, 2 story, was $85/month). We earned the right to say that we formed the foundation of Inlet, and I resent pretenders.
When I moved back to Texas in 2000, I went by the old house. It had just been repainted yellow, and while I was looking at it, a resident of the neighborhood walked up and we started talking.
When I mentioned that it used to be a crisis center, he asked, “Inlet?”. When I said, “Yes”, he said that Inlet was a Montrose legend. Suprisingly, when he asked my name, and I told him, he said that Nancy, Vicky, Susan, David and I were still talked about among the older residents on the rare occasion of Inlet being mentioned. Hard to believe. Still, he did know Nancy and Vicky’s last names, so he couldn’t have been completely making things up. Synchronicity, eh?
Strangly, when the new oner re-did the house, he stripped out ALL of the closets; the house had just been finished and had no window coverings, so I could see into it.
Wow; the house was WAY smaller than I remembered.
I think the think I miss most is the spirituality. Sandy’s friend, Elsie Secrist, would come over. In case you’re unfamiliar with her, she went to head up the Casey Institute in Virginia Beach, VA.
Everything, I think, happens for a reason, so I would disagree that you stayed to long; perhaps you stayed exactly as long as you needed to.
Thanks for the stroll down memory lane; I haven’t written or talked about Inlet this much in over 20 years.
Again, if you ever learn how to contact Nancy or Vicky, please let me know ASAP. I’ve written various things, searching them out, but have never had any luck.
If you need my regular e-mail, just ask.
And yes; we did a good thing – for the clients and for us.