I was seventeen in 1967 and in love with radio; a love affair that began when I was eight listening to my Dad's Zenith® radio, set me on the path to my career on-the-air and became the love in my life, for the rest of my life.
I lived a decade that one summer, spending afternoons under the influence of those moments: picnics by the Griffith Park merry go round with my first real girlfriend, Peggy; my best friend since 6th grade, Howard; and my AM radio which was dialed into Boss Radio KHJ, Los Angeles.
One group from my summer of '67 soundtrack was Sky Saxon and The Seeds. Pushin' Too Hard and 'Can't Seem To Make You Mine had been huge hits for this psychedelic rock entourage that featured Sky's unique vocals.
40 years to-the-summer later, I'm photographing the Summer of Love Concert at the Monterey Fairgrounds: site of the famous 1967 Monterey Pop Festival where Jimmy Hendrix set his guitar on fire while playing on stage.
It may have been forty years prior but I was standing in the same venue and on the very same stage. There were vibes in the air from those who were there: The Who, Otis Redding, Mammas and Pappas, Janis Joplin. The sense of history draped around me like a cape, the music of that June summer concert playing back in the background of my mind.
While adrift in this flashback, a man taps me on the shoulder and asks if I have a light. I turn and encounter a vision straight out of 1967: long hair, stovepipe pants under a Nehru tie dye jacket with that paisley lining and a joint in his mouth.
"Thank you, man. I'm Sky Saxon," he said.
"No you're not," was my incredulous reply.
But it was him: that Sky Saxon from my Summer of '67 and he was standing right next to me.
He had come to this Summer Of Love reunion to feel the vibe once again, hoping to sit in with one of the bands. But for me, this-fifty-seven year old, his presence rekindled memories of my most-magic summer from forty years ago.
We talked music, radio and rock 'n roll.
Well, he talked. I listened.
Suddenly I was 17 again, listening to Sky Saxon and The Seeds' tunes blaring from the radio in Howard's '65 Malibu.
From our conversation, my inference was that life after the music died had been a difficult ride for Sky. But he stayed true to being a musician and clearly made the 60's his life's baseline.
I took this image of my girlfriend with Sky and, for this one frame, he presented the peace sign as his visual signature. I had a feeling when I filed away my images from the Summer Of Love shoot that I would see this one again.Sky Saxon died yesterday.
He was reportedly 71 years old, and leaves behind "an unspecified number of siblings" [how 60's is that!] and the knowledge that his music was a fixture in the punk rock movement which would take place decades later.
I feel that part of me died yesterday, as well. The innocence, the freedom, the vibrancy that was 1967 came back for a visit when his path and mine crossed in the summer of 2007.
It's difficult to verbalize unless you were there.
Now one of us that was, is gone.
Peace sign back at you, Sky …
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