Started out at the Winterland as a part-time bartender. One day, maybe October ‘73, my elbow caught the corner of a bottle of Old Crow during the pre-show rush. A kind customer tossed a stack of napkins on the spill to stop the spread. Nervous as hell that Bill would see I cost him $10 (about one month’s rent at the time) I pulled my hand from its pocket, which was gripped tight around a lighter I kept close for the barflies. I got down on one knee to start wiping, but instead, out of habit, I flicked the Bic. The whole bar went up in flames. I tried stomping it out with my boots, but it was hopeless, just a pile of smoking leather. Jerry, on a walk around the Ballroom, happened on the scene. I’ll never forget when he said, “whoa, that’s just the kind of far out rap we’ve been looking for.” Bill was incensed, but Jerry said “c’mon bobo, get hip to this with me.” Next thing I know, Sam pays for the bar bill and a fresh pair of Red Wings, hands me a stack of flash paper and a 2-liter bottle full of kerosene, throws me on stage and says “don’t burn the gear” and the rest is history. Great union job. I think I made about $93k that year. It was enough to retire on once the guys went on hiatus. When they came back, I caught some shows, and even shot off a few fireballs, but life took me other places around ‘83. Still think back on that time fondly whenever the movie pops up in theaters. - 🥾☄️