It came as no surprise and yet the finality of the inevitable struck home with the shock of an earthquake. "Jerry Garcia, dead at 53." I heard the news from the somber announcer on my car radio on my way back to the office from a lecture I had presented across town. I was seized by a sense of loss and concern immediately.

Back in the office, I called a friend who I knew would be affected similarly. Had she heard? How was she taking it? Did she have any details? My friend was out, but a co-worker came on the line and I found myself being comforted. "It's a sad day...I don't know if she knows yet...I've been making some calls...are you ok?" Funny, I thought, I had never identified this individual as a fan. Isn't it amazing how quickly and spontaneously the word seems to be networking. I put on a Grateful Dead tape, still wondering at the perceptiveness of this younger person I was barely familiar with.

To call myself a Dead Head would be stretching. I have only attended two Dead concerts in 25 years and do not have even a majority of the Dead's albums in my collection. I am used to being reminded of my mortality by rock icons; I was a child when I said goodbye to Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens. I survived the excesses of Joplin and Hendrix at the beginning of the 70's and later puzzled over the tragic loss of John Lennon. So, why this lump in throat, now? I don't know, but I know I'm not alone.

It did not take long for the web to buzz with reaction. Among the newsbytes and testimonials, I encountered speculation: Would the band call it quits? What would happen to the Dead Heads? Some reports moved disturbingly beyond speculation declaring a definitive end to the 60's counter culture.

Jerry Garcia's passing is being mourned by Senators, judges and prison inmates. Also grieving are greying professors and pubescent students, bikers and businessmen, professionals and dropouts. The Dead's sound and spirit reached up and down the social strata to 'have' and 'have-not' alike, finding resonance in both Baby Boomer and Generation X and harmonizing with renegade and responsible. It is a paradox that Jerry Garcia was somehow able to strike a chord uniting such disparate pockets of humanity who normally find so little common ground. It is also a paradox that one of the world's top grossing rock bands has had only one top ten hit in 30 years.

I first saw the Dead late in the summer of 1969. A couple of weeks after Woodstock and a week after Hurricane Camille leveled most of the Mississippi Coast, a three day festival was held at the race tracks in Gonzales, Louisianna. The steaming heat of the Bayou was broken by rain, interrupting the Airplane's set. The crowd waited patiently for the finale of the Event, the Grateful Dead. The rain let up, the wind died down and the throng came to their feet as Jerry Garcia took the stage for a brief sound check. 400 thousand people danced in the mud till dawn, returning to their more mundane lives refreshed and just a little freer than before.

I next saw the Dead in Washington D.C. in March of 1994. Arriving at the Cap Center parking lot I was engulfed in a spontaneous folk-fest. People were selling clothes, jewelry, sandwiches, sandals, incense and mushrooms. I saw Dead Heads trading tickets and backstage passes for upcoming bookings and tapes of past shows. Some had driven, others had flown, some hitched or took the bus. There were people there for the night, the weekend, some who had been in Chicago for a concert a few nights before, others were going to Philadelphia the following week to see the Dead there. Some had been on the road for a few minutes, others for weeks. And always, reports about the song selections and how good they sounded and how Jerry was doing. How was his energy? I witnessed a young couple dragged out of their car and held while security from three different jurisdictions tore their car apart looking for drugs that were never found.

A brief wait in line for the pat-down search at the door and I was in. Concert goers ranged from their fifties to their teens. Tie-dyed and blue jeans were the order of the day and everywhere a friendly camaraderie was generated. Everyone it seemed was responsible for bringing something to the party.

Down center, rows of recording equipment had been setup from humble recorders to larger more involved mixing boards. The band allows anyone to record the concerts and trade in "bootlegged" tapes. The crowd cooperated with one another to create the best energy that could be mustered for the celebration. I found a seat just before the band took the stage. Everyone came to their feet as the first chords hit the auditorium. That was the last I thought about my "seat" all night.

The entire crowd "Dead danced" through the concert ranging from simple swaying in place to more effusive swirling. Security was busy trying to keep this free form motion contained in place and out of the aisles in a comical keystone waltz of frustration on both sides. Of course, security was extra tight to apprehend any drugs. After all, these Dead Heads had a bad reputation for that sort of thing. The event was cathartic. The new sound equipment was clearer and crisper than that of 25 years before, but the ambience was never overproduced. It was a good time, maybe the best of times. "Thanks Jerry, hope you enjoyed it too."

The appeal of the Grateful Dead is as eccletic as their musical influences. The message goes beyond mere tolerance to a subtle appreciation of differences, as necessary components to the irreverent compatibility that forms harmony. Our differences are to be encouraged. They are beautiful, and as we come together cooperatively they make the collective collage so much brighter.

Now that Jerry has left us behind I feel the loss personally. He was the epicenter, the standard bearer, the rallying point for so many. He was the archtypical hippie, friendly, nonobtrusive, self effacing, humble and not afraid to let the freak flag fly. He was a creative genius not ashamed to make a few mistakes or to have a few offnights. I guess even though Jerry's gone, I'm not quite ready to let the long strange trip end. It will be different without him. He will be missed.

What's to become of the band and the Dead Heads? I don't know. I don't think they do either, yet. Things will certainly change, but I hope we all still find something or someone to bring us together for the fun of it. We will survive. Thanks for the magic, Jerry.

Copyright 1995 Rob Rouse All Rights Reserved