One night we were strolling out to the “T” on the pier for a “doobie” check when we noticed the guitar player out on the pier looking like he was wandering around. We said hello and asked what he was up to, and he told us the Golden Bear owner couldn’t pay him that night so he couldn’t get a motel and he was thinking about sleeping on the sand under the pier. After offering him a toke on our joint, Chuck Mundell suggested he come over to the house and crash there. Now, the guy’s a bit askew, so what choice did he have? He walked with us over to the house and as we showed him Pott’s mattress space on the pantry floor where he could sleep his eyes got big! He was spooked. He told me, “Bill, I’ve never slept in a white house full of whiteys!” We told him, “Hey, it’s OK. Don’t be paranoid. You’ll be safe.” Thus assuaged, Jimi spent the night on the floor, “Cool though!” he was heard to murmur after one shoebox revealed itself to be full of Acapulco Gold, another of Jalisco jungle weed, and yet another of Nayarit sensimilla. Those were my “prescriptions” as I had endured epilepsy for most of my years. Soon, it was a fatty for pajama time and just before lights out I gave him another and a small packet for his boot. He smiled and said, “Good night, Bill.”
The next morning, “Buckwheat” and Mundell told Jimi to come with them; they had a better place in mind. Jimi had planned to get his check and then Greyhound it back to Seattle, but his karma had changed a few things. “We’re taking you to the stone house; it’s a biker hangout but they’re cool,” they told him as they drove out the two-lane El Toro Road into the mountains. Jimi’s eyes had grown big once more. “They’re starting this new thing out there, a ‘Church of Love,’ and a business selling these new ‘tie-dyed’ things.” That sounded better and Jimi relaxed. Once there, he agreed to hang out in the canyon with the bikers for a bit as they were holding big time. Later that week, some collegian entrepreneurs arrived from San Francisco with boxes of tie-dyed T-shirts. The bikers, by now calling themselves the “Brothers of Love” were planning to stage a “Love-In” at O’Neill Park. People from all over were coming, and they were figuring on selling them each a tie-dyed T-shirt and a purple vial. As it turned out, Jimi and The Watchtower ended up performing together at the love-in. Shortly thereafter, the bikers ended up further adjusting their name to “The Brotherhood of Eternal Love.” While this story was unfolding, Jimi was working on a song called “Foxy Lady,” after which he wrote another called “Purple Haze.” No doubt, he returned to Seattle from his surfer/biker interlude with a slightly different perspective than when he left.
Dig on Bill Fury's story in its entirety in TSJ issue 21.1, available for download in the archives.