(Al at the Hollywood Bowl July 21, 1974.)
I just got a call from my old bandmate, Bob Nakamine, informing me that our old bandmate Al Feldstein died of a heart attack yesterday (6/21/09).
He was cranky and opinionated and a thoroughly decent man.
When I moved to Berkeley in 1973, my high school classmate Ernie was just dropping out and moving back to San Jose. He told me to look up his buddies on Etna Street – "They play Grateful Dead music!" he said. And play Grateful Dead music we did, starting in the second-floor living room of that house and off and on in bars and back yards for the next 30+ years.
The first Grateful Dead tape I ever heard was at Al’s apartment in Oakland – the 3/23/74 Cow Palace show, a couple of weeks after it happened. I had no idea such a thing existed before then.
He was a solid rhythm guitar player and a half-decent singer. He brought a handful of songs to our band, all of ‘em good. There was one that I liked better then he did! And there were a couple that I continued to perform myself after we stopped playing together regularly. I played “Scene of the Crime” at the Grand Lake Farmers’ Market a couple of weeks ago, and mused that it was about time for his annual “When are we gonna play?” email. We had a string of annual reunion gigs in the early ’00s but hadn’t done it in a year or two, largely due to the geographic scattering of our mates.
Coincidentally, I recently transferred some recordings from the early ’80s. The first three are Al’s songs, and the last is of course a Johnny Cash song we took from the Dead. Mostly our band was called The Reptiles, but for some reason we tried being The Undecided for a few weeks in early 1981; that’s the band on these four.
Dust Bowl 2/15/81
Night Crawl 2/15/81
Watchin’ for the Bear 2/8/81
Big River 2/1/81
Tags: Al Feldstein
May the astral wind blow him further . . .
David, my sincere condolences to you, and Alan’s friends and family, on his passing. Death don’t have no mercy…
<>…Yes, and he kept us honest. “Next Ozone”, my friend…
I’m feeling very down this morning. Al spent a couple of nights at my house last month when the Allman Bros. were in Oakland. He was a good friend and I’ll miss him.
Damn, this sucks…
Schmock! Schmock! Thanks for the great memories…those were the good ol’ days…
Al was my favorite show buddy. We never missed and L.A. moe. show together. We also made many crazy treks to see the Ominous Seapods whenever they played within striking distance. A painful, unexpected loss.
Stunned, literally. We just had a good run at the Allman Bros. here in OAK, and tripped over the merits (not) of the recent Dead shows. Broken hearted indeed, and will miss cranky pants and raves…
Alan was a friend of mine from Uni high school. He was a great guy. He was always willing to drive his pals around in his VW bug. I have some wonderful memories of him taking us up to Gaviota beach. Generous, kind, funny, he will be missed.
As Rich said above, those were indeed the good old days. And I think we knew it at the time. Sad to hear this news. It feels like the beginning of the end for all of us.
I watched one of the Laker-Denver playoff games with him a couple of weeks ago…he felt the Lakers didn’t deserve the championship because they didn’t measure up to the Showtime Lakers. Last week, he was raving about how awesome Phish was at Bonnaroo. Alan and Bob Nakamine’s playing of Grateful Dead songs was the main reason I transferred to Berkeley. He was curmudgeonly and high maintenance, but a great friend.
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I got the news about Al’s death via a cell phone call while watching the Giants/A’s on TV. I bring that up because that was one of our common interests. Al was a Dodger fan and I was a Giants fan and we ribbed each other about it (all in fun). His team was more successful back then but my claim to fame was that I was sitting with him in the living room of his Oakland apartment watching that famous game back in the early ’80s when Joe Morgan hit a homer for the Giants that won the game and killed the Dodgers playoff hopes. It was right at the end of the season. So, I jump to my feet and do a double fist pump and yell ‘YES!!’. I wasn’t trying to rub it in, I was just excited. I then look over at Al and he’s fuming, sort of slumped back in the sofa really pissed off. I can’t remember what he said but I tried to ‘roll back’ my enthusiasm a bit. In any event, I bring that up because I remember to mention that day every time I see him, which launches a new baseball conversation. THe first time I saw Al in 16 years was just last month in mid-May and of course I mentioned it. The conversation then turned from baseball from basketball and in true Feldstein form he claimed that there were no good, playoff caliber teams in the NBA this year. I then suggested that he get the NBA commisioner job so he could suspend the playoffs due to lack of talent. I’ll miss these conversations; they had no problem spanning years of non-contact, we always picked up where we left off. I’ll miss Al and I regret not keeping in touch with him over the years.
I also add my condolences to David, to Alan’s many other friends, and family. 56 is much too young, but thank you for sharing Alan’s musical legacy and your memories of him. He sounds a little like Nelson in these tracks and I enjoyed the music.
“May the four winds blow you safely home…”
I played in a weekly poker game with Al Feldsein when I was at Berkeley in the early 80’s. I saw the Reptiles a few times at the annual Oakland block party. Great times..saw more than a few Dead shows with Al. One great part of the Dead scene was meeting people all the time and really getting to know them. As a beginner Deadhead I learned alot from the wise veterans like Al and David…too young, too early..but thankfully we all enjoyed the ride of our lives..
Michael Sammet
Caryn just called me with this news. I’ve been swimming in deep sadness and fond memories ever since. We shared a love of music and baseball and I even got him to go with me to the Indy 500 in ‘96. Last summer we were talking about a baseball stadium we had independently seen off the highway in Lancaster and, sure enough, a couple of weeks later some buddies of mine and I drove over there from Santa Barbara and met up with Al and Caryn to see the Lancaster Jethawks play the Lake Elsinore Storm. Al was always game for a roadtrip for the right event. We had a lot of those — Dead, Phish, Allmann Bros., the ‘Tiles … I too remember that epic Reptiles show in Placerville that Smolin’ mentioned — I was the guy dancing with my dog. Al and Caryn came to our wedding last Fall and we talked a number of times since — making plans for another minor league road trip. Ah, I’d love one more road trip … one more phone call. Hey, Owl, how was Bonaroo? I’ll miss you, man.
I am very sad to hear the news.
Best thoughts to Caryn.
I remember staying at their home in LA.
Shira and I remember many shows with
the Reptiles: winery in Napa, club in
Oakland, a home in Berkeley.
Good- bye Al.
I knew Al through Barry Smolin, and just got word from Barry about Al’s passing. I was fortunate enough to have shared a Seapods road trip with Al and Barry, and really got to see what a knowledgeable, funny, and warm guy he could be. I was also lucky enough to have Al play bass and rhythm guitar on several occasions for my band (Sea of Green) back in the late 90’s and early 00’s. He was a musician of great ideas, and he generously gave of his time and spirit to the music, adding a wonderful sense of playfulness and space. I had not been in contact with Al for many years, since a falling out at a band rehearsal and subsequent scathing email exchange, during which I saw that snarling “other side” he could have. It was not lost on me, though, that his feistiness was based on a tremendous integrity of belief that he had about things. With Al it was a total package, take it or leave it, and I guess we decided to just leave it. In spite of it all, I still got an occasional friendly email from him over the years to express his delight about something musical or absurd that he thought I would enjoy. In reading the comments of his true friends here, it saddens me that he is gone, and even more sad that I missed out on some good times with Al while he was around. His graciousness and warmth were truly the largest part of what he brought to the Cosmic jam.
Jeeeeezzzzz Al… I miss you Fiddle. Condolences to Caryn and family.
Some fond (or vivid) memories of you — our hours spent sitting on the sofa in the McKinley apt. with the TV on and sound off — setting the land speed record for Bay Area to LA I-5 night driving — “Gee, Mrs. Cleaver, you sure look nice today” — Leaning Tower — periodically catching up like it was yesterday after many months/years of lost contact — the Bears — the moments of abandoning low hand on 727 — “Coffee, tea,… I don’t know, I just don’t know” — the ten hour ride from Port Angeles to Oakland without a single stop after a harrowing Thanksgiving — boxes and boxes of Maxell XLII 90’s — “Coulda, woulda, shoulda” — striking a Nick Lowe pose with guitar on your hip and guitar neck pointed high in the air (I must admit this could be a lingering hallucination) — “Yuh, yuh, yuh…” — and lastly, your never-wavering complaints about latter-day Grateful Dead shows, which you nonetheless attended knowing full well that you would end up complaining about them!
Rest easy, Al.
I never laughed so hard in my life as when Rich & I and Al & Licht went to see Henny Youngman at a small dive in S.F. called the Mabuhay Gardens back in 1973. Even in ‘73 Henny had to be 85, and I don’t know how Al talked us into going, but we all nearly died laughing. His timing was such perfection that we did’nt even have time to catch a breath between jokes. We staggered out into the night after the 45 minute set bent over and weeping with laughter. Our sides ached for days after that. I don’t know how many hundred Dead shows we saw with Al between 1971-79, but I’m sure Al knew, and could probably produce the set lists if you were particularly interested. Thank God for the Reptiles giving us an excuse to get together with old friends through the years. I always imagined us all with long grey hair in our fabulous tie-dye T-shirts jumping up and down to “One More Saturday Night” till we peed in our Depends. In fact I was looking forward to it. Al, you weren’t near old enough or grey enough, and if I never fall down laughing again, at least we had Henny. Love ya, miss ya…..ahhh Brennan
Seeing all your names and hearing the band play Big River, it takes me back to parties in the backyard on Piedmont St. Great times were had.
I am stunned and very sad to hear this news. I am lucky enough to have a few lifelong friends, and Al is one of those people I felt that long-time kinship with even though I only first spent any significant time with him sporadically over the last decade. Our passions for sports and music, plus his great sense of humor, made us fast friends and I always greatly enjoyed his company. Curmudgeonly and opinionated? Absolutely! Wouldn’t have him any other way. He’ll be sorely missed.
I am very sad to hear about Allen’s passing. I was good friends with Fiddle in junior high and high school. Eventhough we saw each other sporadically after that it always felt like I had just seen him the week before. What I remember most fondly about Allen is his sense of humor. I still remember many of the ongoing jokes that we had together during high school. I am also remembering at the moment the hard fought two on two basketball games between Allen and I and Dan Hull and his brother, he had a very smooth jump shot. My most sincere condolences to his family.
I was so sad to hear the news today. I had just connected with Alan via FB recently. Funny, I remember him as a very nice guy and somewhat low key in junior high.
Hard to come to grips with the loss of a peer. Condolences to his family.
My first comment was short as I typed it at work.
I can’t count how many Dead shows I saw with Al. I recall a few shows in that dark period from ‘93 until the end where Al would make some pithy, hysterical comment as the band sucked before our very eyes. All those Reptiles gigs. Two of the more memorable ones were the Placerville gig mentioned by Barry and the one at Louis Martini Winery that Lorna set up. The fun Clay and I had with him at Dodgers Stadium for a Giants-Dodgers series with those amazing seats he had and basically giving each other shit the entire weekend. Rolling into Billy’s Deli in Glendale for the smoked fish platter and pastrami sandwiches (but not on the same day!).
None of his friends were immune from his scathing wit. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Caryn and Al made a great couple. They were so different personality-wise, Al being the laconic wise-ass and Caryn being the polar opposite of laconic (but still a wise-ass…)
My condolences to Caryn, their familes and the whole lot of you that posted here.
Al Feldstein was a great friend of mine since the Berkeley days in the early ’70s. I have fond memories of the Reptiles playing and bringing us all together. He was a damn picky deadhead but I don’t recall him missing too many shows!
Al was also a True Blue, a California Golden Bear. He, Caryn, my wife Amy and I have been going to all of the Cal football games for the past several years and were looking forward to the upcoming season. (They drove all the way from Burbank each game!) We’ve been having a blast tailgating near campus and meeting up with other Old Blues. (More to come on this topic…) I think Caryn and I both agree that the continuing QB controversy at Cal, a source of angst by Al, probably took off a few years… ;-(
We already miss you Al.
Early on Al ’schooled’ me, you are not allowed to have a ‘favorite’ Dead’ song. Let the show come to you. So what if I liked The Wheel the best, he didn’t give a shit. Buck and I will always remember him as Ali-gator, a crucial and essential member of the Reptiles and our Cottage Party enabler.
Thanks for all the great times
Caryn, are thoughts areth you
I may still have my Reptiles sticker somewhere. Thinking of you, David.
Thanks for putting this site up. It’s moving to see this picture and all your names and tributes. I heard Al and Bob Nakamine and the Reptiles play at Gayle’s 50th birthday party after the passage of 30 years. I thought Al would go on forever. I was sure I’d see him play again. God, I wish I had. I thought you guys would be playing Dead songs long after I’m gone. Al was a good man, gone far too soon.
I left a fairly wordy/verbose posting earlier today. I’ve been reading all your entries with great interest. (Pomeroy and Ralphs I’m still pissed at you for short sheeting my bed in ‘72, but that’s another story…yeah, I know it was you.). Compared to many of you I wasn’t in touch with Al all as much over the years, but my ‘take’ on him (sub-consciously) seems in line with what a lot of you are saying. ‘Curmudgeon’, ‘opinionated, etc. all caused a light bulb to light up with me. I never originally thought of Al in that way originally, but yes, now that many of you are describing him that way, YES…he was that way..and it was GREAT!! I often would think of him as someone I had to ‘check in with’ when giving my opinion on things, and I needed to make sure I had my ‘argument’ or ’schtick’ well thought out or else he’d shoot it down. I really can’t fully verbalize it right now but he seemed to be a reincarnated ‘old guy’ or ‘old soul’ in a young guy’s body. Sort of like a ‘favorite uncle’ I had to please. Earlier, Sue talked about going to see Henny Youngman with him and I recall a long time ago talking to him about old comics, the 3 Stooges, etc. Al did a great 3 Stooges impersonation which always cracked me up. In fact, that memory spurred me on to make a sick, politically incorrect comment/sick joke about The 3 Stooges and Harvey Milk with regards to Sean Penn the last time I saw Al which was last month. As I stated earlier, I went out to lunch with him and Larry Stein and Bob Nakamine in mid May and we started talking about movies. The discussion somehow went to Sean Penn and his brilliant work in Milk and the fact he was going to be in the upcoming 3 Stooges flick…I then launched in to my tasteless riff, and we all cracked up, but I really did it because of Al, and the memory of him doing his 3 Stooges stuff in the past. The thing that’s weird and hard for me to shake right now is I can vividly remember the outing (it was only 6 weeks ago)…we had a table for 4, Al was right next to me and Larry and Bob were across the table. I really wish I could turn back the clock and go back to that moment or at least somehow ‘fix’ whatever physical issue Al had so that he’d still be here right now.
I am very saddened by this news.
My condolences to Caryn and the rest of Al’s family, and his extended family.
I really loved seeing The Reptiles, you guys all made great music together.
There was a song he wrote and sang that I loved, and originally thought it was a cover, but then I found he wrote it. I think it might have been “Scene of the Crime”. (If anyone has it available?)
In the ’70’s Winterland had “Audition NIghts” and Al and I discussed them at one time. We finally realized that we could have been standing next to each other and not even known it.
A good man, a curmudgeon and cranky person, but one in a million. It was always fun to talk to him about sports, music and anything else that came up.
You will be missed, Al. I’m just sorry that the last Dead concert you saw was that horrible Mardi Gras run in Oakland…
[...] think this missive bears out the assessments of his style we’ve seen in the comments on my first post: He had attitude to burn, but it was backed with soul and [...]
When I first posted here a couple of days ago, I was shocked speechless. Like everyone else I’ve been moping around mired in sadness since then, but I have found some solace in talking to Caryn (“he loved youâ€), and in reading the great thoughts and remembrances posted here.
Al certainly kept us honest – he was quicker to cry “bullshit†than any human who ever lived. There was simply no point in being pretentious or vain around him – he’d call you on it in a heartbeat. And he was just as quick to come to your defense if he thought you needed it – a truer friend could not be found.
I’ve lost count of the number of adventures I shared with him – they’ve all blended together to become part of who I am today. I was at that Hollywood Bowl show where that great picture was taken in ‘74 – I think we spent the night on Dan Hull’s floor. We shared rides in my VW bug (or was it his?) to L.A., Santa Barbara, Reno, Winterland, you name it. We even survived a 360 degree spin on 101 when my bug (filled with six deadheads) blew a tire at 80MPH. We always laughed about one memorable ride through Berkeley in Don Ralph’s Mustang, when Al got out of the passenger seat and kissed the ground when we finally careened to a stop at our destination. More recently I would crash at Al and Caryn’s in Burbank when the Bears were on the road – and it almost seemed like we were all in our twenties again.
He certainly was (and will always be) a True Blue Golden Bear. In recent years, he and Caryn gave the Hesla’s that garish Blue-and-Gold tailgater’s tent as a present, and then made every single home game by driving up from Burbank the morning of game day ! Among many other things, I will miss asking him every Summer if the Bears are going to be any good in the Fall.
I could go on and on. The only real solace to be taken from his passing is the knowledge that he now lives on through us, and always will. I’m so glad I knew him
Steve wrote:
“Al certainly kept us honest – he was quicker to cry “bullshit†than any human who ever lived. There was simply no point in being pretentious or vain around him – he’d call you on it in a heartbeat. And he was just as quick to come to your defense if he thought you needed it – a truer friend could not be found.”
Amen to that.
I’m bawling all over again here.
Always a great shock and sadness to hear this kind of news. Hadn’t seen Al since San Diego and the Holiday Bowl. Lot’s of great memories reading everyone’s posts. Cottage parties wouldn’t have been the same without him.
We’ll miss you Al.
Like Steve (and others), I spent yesterday in shock, in sadness and in reflection. I was unable to write much yesterday so I wanted to add something today. (BTW – thank you David for setting up the blog to collect and present these thoughts.)
I remember in our second year at CAL, Al needed to go to LA for a few days on very short notice. He invited me to join him on the trip. We jumped into his VW and he proceeded to tell me we were going to set the world’s land speed record for North-South travel, which I beleive we did. It was “Pedal To The Metal” all the way. We made great time, but what I remember was the ride with him was a great time. I don’t think there was much in the way of tunes available in the bug, which in this day and age seems inconcievable, considering how important music was to us in those days and subsequently, but it didn’t matter. We talked.
The other thing I remember about the trip was getting introduced to his pre-Cal life. I met his mom, and a bunch of his friends, and was I was welcomed with open arms everywhere because I was Al’s friend. As a life-long Northern Californian with an inate dislike for LA, and a festering hatred of the Dodgers, I was struck with the sense that LA wasn’t so bad if you knew some nice people and knew some cool places to hang out. It’s not easy to have one of the foundations of your world view crumble, but crumble it did for me on that trip.
Reading all the posts here, I’m realizing that Al was the original Networker. Most of us make many acquaintences during our lives, but the number of friendships we establish are few. Al on the otherhand, established strong relationships with many people, far more people than have commented here. The common thread betweem those of us he left behind is that we ALL considered him our friend. As Jon points out above, it didn’t matter how much time may have elapsed between conversations with Al, we could pick up the relationship right where it left off. Friends can do that.
Goodbye, Al.
Happy Trails.
Hey- I just blogged about Al on my My Space site. I played with him in LA in the 80’s and the,n again in Connecticut around 2004 or so. Yes he was cranky, opinionated but when he strapped on that dark Ovation he went somewhere else and loved to boogie. Personally he and I sounded great together. He was the consummate rhythm guitarist and yes he could sing a little too. We knew the same songs from day one. Dead, Springfield, Byrds, Dylan, Band, Riders, etc. We played them all. And he and I were both involved in Cable TV. We met thru his brother Richie who I also played with.
What a shock to find out about his death. He was just at Bonaroo and uncharacteristically commenting about it on FaceBook. He had recently e-mailed me about my latest album which he seemed to like as much as Al liked anything.
I’m glad he spent his last week seeing Phish and Springsteen. I’m sure he smoked up a storm too. Loved his cigarettes.
I have a tape of a block party we played n 1985 somewhere in Orange County. I cherish it in spite of all the gigs I’ve played subsequently.
Caryn, my heart goes out to you. and to Richie.
Peace my friend,Toke
Toke, the sad thing is that Al stopped smoking a year ago. He went through some hypnosis sessions and they did the trick. He was trying to get his health together.
I go back with Al only from the early 80s so hearing some of these stories from his college days is wonderful.
Al’s story of quitting smoking is in this post: http://cloudsurfing.gdhour.com/archives/2067
I first met Fiddle in, I believe, December 1972. I was finishing my sophomore year at Cal State LA and had been accepted as a junior transfer to Berkeley starting Spring Quarter 1973. Anyway, I was in the Bay Area for a three-night Dead run at Winterland (I was only able to catch the first two, as I had to fly back Sunday and complete a take-home final to be turned in Monday morning). My friend Bruce Shannahoff had suggested I look up his friend since childhood, Al Feldstein, who lived on Etna Street with three other guys. I did, and Al and roommates warmly welcomed me (and, if my addled memory is functioning properly, my friend Greg Farrington) into their scene. We all went to the shows together and stayed up late afterwards every night, with Al and Bob Nakamine jamming gently on acoustic guitars, talking, getting [more] stoned, etc. When I finally moved up to Berkeley a couple of months later, I again looked up Al, and from that point on we forged a beautiful friendship that continued right up until his passing.
There are so many memories flooding back to me now: like the first show at UCSB’s Harder Stadium in 1973. But the highlight wasn’t the Dead. No, it was afterwards: a bunch of us convened at our friend Ma’s house in downtown SB, and at some point in the evening the guitars came out. One slung by Al and the other by one of Ma’s roommates, John Hofstetter (who went on to a successful acting career…he was a regular on “Murphy Brown,” for example). Neither of these guys had ever met before, and they proceeded to launch into an impromptu concert of a couple hours’ duration, during which they played and sang their asses off (Beatles tunes–I recall a particularly rolicking “Honey Don’t,” Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry) like nothing I’ve ever seen before or since. Between the two of them they just burned with charisma, conviction, and a fierce love of the music that was almost frightening to behold. The X-factor was out in force at a level no less than the best Dead show you can think of. Utterly spellbinding.
Then there was a road trip just the two of us took together in the mid-late ’70s to visit Farrington in Boulder. Driving through the Sierra and across Nevada gave us ample time to really connect, and believe me, Al was–for all that crustiness on the exterior–a terribly sweet and thoroughly decent guy.
I’m honored to have been able to call him my friend.
I have yet another memory of Al from our earlier days as Berkeley students. At some point early on when I met him, not sure whether it was ‘72 or ‘73 he went with me down to my parents place in the Palo Alto area to have dinner. I have no idea why we went or why he went with me. I don’t recall going down there regularly but I guess at my advanced age I’m not expected to remember these things now. In any event, I don’t recall the details of the dinner but after the main course my mom serves dessert which included some really rich, chocolatey brownies, which I think Al really liked. At some point he holds up one of the brownies and exclaims: ‘Mrs. Rossen, if they served brownies like this at our dorm, there would be a riot.’ My mom sort of cracked up, probably because of Al’s delivery (I’m sure ala Henny Youngman) , but I suppose she appreciated the compliment. But the thing that I remember is she still talked about Al after that and how funny he was, and the way he said it. I’m not just talking about a few years after the fact but even 20 years after it happened. She would say, ‘who was that funny, nice young man you brought home for dinner when you were in college’, because she remembered him for his presence and that one hilarious comment of his.
-jonR
I knew Alan from high school. Can’t remember how I met him, but it was undoubtedly because he was one of a group of guys that used to cluster at Dan Hull’s house. We both went to Cal, and after that I kind of lost touch with him. Until a few months ago, that is. On Facebook, I got a message (out of nowhere)…”is this the mad hatter?” A series of messages went back and forth, and in one he mentioned how he often thought of me when driving past Gaviota. That instantly brought up memories of an aborted camping trip that Dan, Fiddle, Les, and I went on to that state park, which is right along highway one north of santa barbara, with a train trestle located right next to the park. Trains rumble by at all times of the day and night. We camped their often during high school. On one particular camping trip to the park, it seemed we failed to bring a tent (probably never had one—just hung out, getting high under the stars) when it started to rain. Hard. So we made our way out of there, and onto a deserted shack right alongside the tracks about a mile from the official campground. And I mean deserted. This place was long-since abandoned and pretty bad. Very run down. We crawled inside in the darkness and put down our sleeping bags. Rats (mice?) proceeded to crawl over the sleeping bags, creating more than a few shrieks. As I recall we were kind of coming down from a bad trip of sorts, bummed out, and all we had to comfort ourselves among the rats in this rickety old shack was a transistor radio. We fired up the local Top 40 stations, KACY from Port Hueneme, and listened to them play the same songs, many over and over. Probably heard “It’s A Rainy Night in Georgia” at least 5 times. The disc jockey was someone named “Johnny B.” (never to be heard from again, as far as I know). So all these years later, I got a real chuckle when Alan wrote on my wall nothing more than those two words…Johnny B. Made me laugh.
I’m still totally in shock. My condolences to all of his family and friends.
Alan was the coolest kid in the 8th grade who would talk with me. He
was the first to tell me about Jimi Hendrix. We had lockers next to
each other in gym and laughed all the time. Even though in 9th grade he
kept telling Mr Mitchell I couldn’t really hit like I was doing in
tryouts for the A9-B9 softball game, I eventually forgave him.
His Berkeley apartment in college was the sweetest place to hang with
his cool buddies, who would also talk with me. See you someday again,
Alan!!
Sigh.
Another good guy, gone way too soon.
I spoke with Caryn yesterday. I felt like an idiot for not knowing what to say and then crying on top of that. She was very kind and understanding about it. I’m pleased that I did make her laugh with a couple of “Fiddle” remembrances.
I’ve known Al since junior high days when he, his mom and brother moved into the neighborhood. He got the nickname “Fiddle”. I ended up with the nickname “Beef”. As time went on those nicknames were dropped by most of our friends. But he kept calling me Beef and so I would retaliate with Fiddle. We would occasionally make a truce and agree to drop the nicknames. The truce usually lasted a few minutes and then we’d be back to, “Beef”…”Fiddle”… “Beef”… “Fiddle”… “Beefâ€â€¦ “Fiddleâ€!!! I never stopped being “Beef” to him although I did begin to insist he call me Dr. Beef.
During his college days it was great to have a pad to crash at when visiting Berkeley to see the Dead and getting to know Bob N and David G.
I remember a great road trip with Al and the Farrington’s to Yellowstone where as long hair hippy types we would reenact the family arguments of the moms, dads and kids at different vista sites in front of them. They thought we were nuts, but we thought we were hilarious. We were great at entertaining ourselves.
Then there were the Reptiles. They played at Dan and Kathe Hull’s wedding. I can’t remember the exact year, but there is no doubt that the show was great, perhaps one of their greatest, and it’s a shame that it wasn’t recorded. They rocked!!
As the years went on and kids and profession commanded my time I spoke with and saw Al less frequently; maybe once or twice a year. But every time we would connect he made me feel like there had been no gap and we were back to sometime in the past when we were doing the Dead three nights in a row, or hanging at the Hull’s house and being the recalcitrant youth that we had so enjoyed being during those years.
I’d sure like to hear him tease me with “Beef “one more time…
Bye Fiddle.
We loved to play music with Al, he was a real good friend and we will miss him so much. He never gave me shit, even when I played like it! He was the rock in the Reptiles. His music gave life and love to us all. He made me a better person just knowing him. It’s hard to keep writing this, so I will end with this.
We love you Al Li Gator!
Steve & Tammie
What sad news indeed. It’s tragic that an event like this lets me see the comments of so many of my old Berkeley friends, as Alan and I were roommates for two years on Etna. But it’s nice to see that everyone remembers the fun we had back in those days, and all the concerts we attended (I recently saw the “New” New Riders here at the Keswick Theater, for instance). This is a sad reminder that we’re all aging and that we’re all mortal. Alan, you are missed in my household!
Have been feeling devastated by the news of Al’s passing. I first met Al when I started playing with the Reptiles in 1996 four years after I moved to California. The thing I always loved about the band was that it felt like family … not only the band itself but the longtime Reptiles fans too, our extended family, many of whom have been coming to see the band since the earliest years of its existence. We haven’t been able to get together and play in a couple of years but we always knew there was a gig waiting for us somewhere in the future. The stars would align, the Reptiles would play, and we would once again celebrate our friendships, life and the music that brought and held us all together. I feel like I have lost a brother…
Heartfelt condolences to Caryn,, their families, and everyone else who knew and loved Al.
[...] Al wrote and sang “Scene of the Crime,” “Dust Bowl,” “Watchin’ for the Bear” (with Dan Hull), and “Night Crawl,” and he sang lead on “Black-Throated Wind,” “Playing in the Band,” “Ramble on Rose,” “Franklin’s Tower,” and “Big River.” [...]
Shocked, feeling lost & deeply saddened. I had the honor of playing music with Al a couple of times. It was always an event my soul & spirit would anticipate with great excitement. Love you my brother. You changed me forever.
Kappa Har