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Who were the Grateful Dead and Why were they always following Jews Around?
by Douglas M. Gertner, Ph.D., c 1998

PROLOGUE: Getting "On the Bus"

My story is typical. A third-generation Reform Jew being raised in the suburbs of Toledo, Ohio, in the 1960s and '70s. The environment was cookie- cutter and cliche and I was uninterested in the sterile Judaism of my parents. Too young for the "Summer of Love," too cool for Top 40, enchanted by the local underground FM radio station, in search of something to fill the void, I joined my friends in all manner of experimentation during teen d ances at the local Jewish Community Center.

Musically, it all began with 8-track tapes - the Grateful Dead's Workingman's Dead, American Beauty, and Europe '72. As those tapes looped around a nd around on the player in Mark Nathanson's bedroom, he and David Brookfield and I marveled at the sweet harmonies of the songs "Uncle John's Band" a nd "Box of Rain," boogied to the countrified tunes "Cumberland Blues" and "Friend of the Devil," and wondered about the cryptic references to cocaine in the long, trippy jams of "Casey Jones" and "Truckin'."

Soon after that those compact cartridges and tinny sounding speakers gave way to 12-inch plastic disks and better stereo systems, our rewards for ha ving been bar mitzvahed and confirmed in our faith. As I wore out the grooves of those early Grateful Dead LPs, reading and re-reading the liner-not es contained the cardboard gatefold album covers, I noticed an invitation. Inside the jacket of their 1971 release titled The Grateful Dead I found these words:

DEAD FREAKS UNITE
Who are you?     Where are you?
How are you?
send us your name and address
and we'll keep you informed
Dead Heads
P.O. Box 1065
San Rafael, California 
 94901
       

By responding to that message I received the occasional dispatch from the band sent directly to the mailbox of my parent's home; a newsletter, cover art for future releases, the usual and unusual fan club fare. News of their solo and side projects was an especially important link during the group's sabbatical from playing together during much of 1974-1975. One such mailing in early 1976 contained another unusual invitation. In it the band announced their return to touring for a series of shows that bicentennial summer, and gave specific instructions for getting tickets to the nearest c oncert.

WOW! What a concept. Here was one of my favorite rock groups sending me personal details of what it would take to see them perform live. With unc haracteristic haste, Mark, David, and I each pulled together the funds and mailed off our money-orders to San Rafael. Unaware of the practice of att ending multiple concerts during a run in a particular city, we requested and received tickets to a single Grateful Dead performance at Chicago's Audi torium Theater on June 27, 1976.

We piled into the Brookfield family station wagon, six suburban, mostly Jewish kids, including my older sister Pamela as a de facto chaperone, to ma ke the five-hour journey to the Windy City. Not sure what to expect, what we sought or thought we might find on that hot, bi-centennial summer Sunda y night just one week before the 200th birthday of the United States, it was time to get on the bus for a trip that continues to this day.

The band's performance was probably the weakest of their four-night run in Chicago, but thanks in part to certain 'mood enhancers' the first set was an exciting, magical mix of favorite and unfamiliar tunes. The entire vibe was electric and by the raucous, set-ending song "Might as Well," I was hooked, happy, and feeling like there was "nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile."

While wandering through the ornate theater lobby during intermission I found myself doing numerous double-takes as big men with thick, dark, curly h air and beards crossed my path. In my heightened state I was struck by how many Jerry Garcia look-alikes I was encountering at this performance.

Over the next several years of attending Grateful Dead concerts this trend continued, and at some point I determined that many of the dark, bearded men were Jews. In fact, as I became more aware of the extended community of Dead Heads worldwide, it was clear that Jews constituted a large part of its membership. That realization was the spark that ignited the ideas discussed in this essay. Please understand that the notions advanced here, like those first, innocent observations at intermission in Chicago, are based on anecdotal and personal examples. No quantitative data have been col lected to confirm my observations. Nonetheless, enough possibilities exist to suggest that a connection between Deadheads and Jews is more than just the stoned illusions of a long-time fan. In fact, since 1996 I have presented these ideas several times as a multimedia lecture which has been well -received by hundreds of interested participants.

In this essay I will explore the Jewish Deadhead phenomenon from the perspective of someone who is both a fan and a scholar, by reviewing the histor y of the Grateful Dead and its connections to Jews and Jewish tradition and practice. I will enumerate the key Jewish players in the band's family c onstellation and suggest a central theory and supporting thoughts for why so many who were attracted to the Dead also happen to be Jews. I will conc lude with an acknowledgement of the darker side of the phenomenon and some specualtion about the future. One broad disclaimer must precede all of th is: I intend no offense to anyone, Jew, Deadhead, or otherwise, by any ideas advanced herein. "Ain't no time to hate," say the lyrics of the Dead s ong "Uncle John's Band," and that's the spirit of this essay. I'm not an authority on music or religion, but merely a Jewish Deadhead seeking to sor t out what I've observed for over twenty years. "Wo, ho, what I want to know: Where does the time go?"

WHO WERE THE GRATEFUL DEAD: A Bit About the Band

The band that became the Grateful Dead began in the temperate regions in and around San Francisco, California, from the South Bay Peninsula to the c offeehouses of North Beach, as the staid 1950s gave way to the turbulent 60s. The original members were first called The Warlocks and included guita rists and vocalists Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir, Ron "Pigpen" Mc Kernan on harmonica, organ and vocals, Phil Lesh bass and vocals, and Bill Kreutzmann on drums. The name they eventually chose derives from a cycle of folk tales about a traveler who encounters a corpse in need of burial and pays his last penny to see that the body is properly laid to rest. Soon after, the traveller encounters another who aids him and then reveals himself as the deceased to whom the traveler had shown such kindness. Although not actually Jewish in origin, the story reflects a deeply held Jewish value that de clares the proper burial of the dead is an important mitzvah, a divine commandment or meritorious act which reflects the will of God. Although none of the bandmembers particularly liked the name it stuck, and on December 4, 1965, in San Jose, California, they played in public for the first of at least 2314 concerts as the Grateful Dead (Scott, Dolgushkin, & Nixon, 1995, p. v, 434-435).

During the nearly 30 years to follow the Dead added and lost many other members. From the original five Warlocks a total of at least 13 performers comprised the Grateful Dead including drummer Mickey Hart, keyboardists Tom Constanten, Keith Godchaux, Brent Mydland, Merle Saunders, Bruce Hornsby, and Vince Welnick, and vocalist Donna Jean Godchaux. Two other members bear mention as well, although they seldom shared the stage or the spotlight . Robert Hunter, an early bluegrass bandmate of Jerry's, soon found himself the primary Grateful Dead lyricist, penning compositions with every memb er of the band. Most of the memorable and cryptic words which typify Dead songs were written by Hunter. In addition, John Perry Barlow collaborated with his old schoolmate Bob Weir on several songs that became band standards.

Beyond the bandmembers and lyricists, the Grateful Dead managers, road crew, office staff, cover artisits, and indeed their fans the Deadheads are a ll considered members of the extended family often referred to as the "Heart of Gold Band."

Jews in the Family

It was really no wonder that I had noticed and indeed known so many Jews among Grateful Dead fans and concertgoers since many members of the band's far-reaching 'family' also happen to be Jewish. Mickey Hart is the only member of the band who is actually Jewish. Born Michael Steven Hartman in B rooklyn, New York (where else?), and raised in the heavily Jewish suburbs of the Five Towns area on Long Island, evidence of Hart's heritage include a photograph from his bar mitzvah showing young Michael adorned with yarmulkah and tallit (skullcap and prayer shawl) his eyes turned intently towar d a prayerbook (Brandelius, 1989, p. 18).

His parents Leonard and Leah Hart were both drummers who, although estranged since before Mickey's birth, each encouraged his pursuit of percussion. While Leah gave her son regular, private drum lessons until he left high school for the Air Force, Lenny left Mickey only his old drum pad, a pair of snakewood drumsticks, and the legacy of a world champion rudimental drummer. Reunited years later father and son drummed for hours and built a re tail music business called Drum City.

Lenny once told his son about some men he had known in the drum corps who had become so consumed with the lure and the ritual of the rudiments that "some would quit their jobs and drum all day - 'drum bums' Lenny called them" (Hart, 1990, p. 93). This reference recalls the time I asked my patern al grandmother if it was true that several male elders on my father's side of the family had been rabbis. "No," she had replied emphatically, "they were bums! None of them worked at real jobs, those men just sat around all day reading and discussing Hebrew texts." Mickey Hart brought the same s ingle-minded intensity to his own practice and study of the drum, an obsession he recounts in two books of his own titled Drumming at the Edge of Mag ic: A Journey into the Spirit of Percussion (1990) and Planet Drum: A Celebration of Percussion and Rhythm (1991).

These forays into ethnomusicology and his longtime devotion to drumming characterize Hart's spiritual life as well. Although Deadheads have long be lieved that the reason the band often scheduled their Spring Tour stop in New York during the holiday of Passover was so Mickey could celebrate with his mother, Grateful Dead publicist Dennis McNally calls that notion "a folk tale" (Druckerman, 1994, p. 23). While an abbreviated version of the tr aditional Passover seder was in fact held backstage between the sound check and the start of their annual New York City gigs, these festive meals wer e attended mostly by some twenty or so members of the Dead's entourage and crew (Nussbaum, 1996). Hart was reported to have appeared for only about five minutes at the seders. According to McNally, "Mickey is a drummer. He worships the beat. His religion is percussion" (Nussbaum, 1996, p. 16A)

Meanwhile, we yearned for something new and different, our own path, a unique way of being in the world.

Many possible ports of call offered safe mooring for young Jewish souls, among them the arts, the film and recording industries, and the worlds of c lassical, popular and folk music, as well as a range of alternative religions and practices. The subculture emerging in and around San Francisco in the early 1960s offered yet another chance to connect with like-minded soul-searchers, and it was here that plenty of young Jews made landfall.

As the epitome of hippiedom, the Grateful Dead attracted and nurtured an extended community which emphasized spiritual fulfillment and thus filled t he void for many, including many young Jews. Therein lies the best explanation for why so many Jews are also Deadheads. As descendants of the Twelv e Tribes of Israel, Jews may still refer to one-another, with tongue in cheek, as "MOT" - members of the tribe. This tribal association also descri bes the Deadhead community as one which is "centered around what's missing from many ethnic, national, and religious communities: peak experience th at unifies individuals into a people" (Shenk & Silberman, 1994, p. 294-295). That was certainly true for me, as I never found the joy in synagogue that I did at a Dead concert, never felt so connected at shul as I did at a show.

Yet there is one particular shared phenomenon I have experienced as a member of both communities. When a Jew or a Deadhead meets another of his or her same kind, a stranger in a strange place near or far, there is quite often a common comfort and a familiarity they find with one another, based o n the knowledge of their shared bond, common beliefs and similar experiences. In spite of having never met before, there is a feeling among Jews and also among Deadheads that wherever we meet one of our own we are among family.

And so from a historical tribe referred to as "the chosen people" to a tribe of their own choosing, Jews have found a sense of spiritual community i n the musical and cultural legacy of the Grateful Dead. Supporting Thoughts

Disenchanted Jews who were attracted to the Deadhead community found numerous familiar similarities and links to their own religious and cultural ro ots. Some of these are quite obvious, others are a bit of a stretch. The following are some of the ways the two worlds resemble one another. You b e the judge.

'Misfit Power' and the Historic 'Other.'

For you are a holy people unto the Lord your God, and you did God choose to be unto God a treasured people among all the people upon the face of the earth.
-Deuteronomy, 14:2

Crippled but free, I was blind all the time I was learning to see.
- Robert Hunter, "Franklin's Tower"

"Misfit Power" is what Bob Weir has called "the particular appeal that the Dead have for those on the fringes of what the straight world defines as the mainstream" (Shenk & Silberman, 1994, p. 195). I came to this same conclusion after many years of attending Grateful Dead concerts and took som e pride in acknowledging myself as one of those misfits attracted to the band. Like so many "freaks" in a traveling circus, everyone is accepted for who and what they are in the Deadhead family of humanity.

This same quality is found among Jews. In spite or perhaps because of the biblically decreed "choseness," sociologist Michael Kimmel notes that "h istorically, the Jew is an outsider...the symbolic 'other.' Wherever the Jew has gone, he or she has been outside...excluded" (Brod, 1988, p. 154). Just as with Deadheads, this is an element of what draws Jews to one-another, and in this 'other-ness' is the power of togetherness. Wherever Deadh eads or Jews find ourselves misfits and outsiders, both cultures coalesce and extend unconditional acceptance to our own kind. Study of Lyrics and Set Lists like Torah and Texts

Moses summoned all the Israelites and said unto them: Hear, O Israel, the laws and rules that I proclaim to you this day! Study them and observe th em faithfully.
-Deuteronomy, 5:1

If you get confused, listen to the music play.
- Robert Hunter, "Help on the Way"

In Deuteronomy, the concluding book of the Torah (The Five Books of Moses, the Hebrew Bible), Moses decrees what is one of Judaism's cornerstones: the importance of studying the law which God gave to the Jewish people. This task is undertaken with devotion, at times both solemn and lively, in t he formal setting of a yeshiva (seminary or school) or wherever else Jews (traditionally men) may gather. Interpretive texts including the Talmud, M idrash Rabah, and Zohar, are also the focus of intense and extensive examination, reflection, and discussion. There are few acts of greater value or importance than this type of study.

In much the same way, and often with similar zeal and devotion, Deadheads take what may seem to some like a fanatical interest in the textual and co ntextual output of the Grateful Dead. The vast collection of lyrics by Robert Hunter in particular are studied for meaning, discussed in person and in cyberspace by devoted fans who, like students of Torah, seek a deeper understanding in order to enrich and provide direction to their lives. The literary tradition of Judaism is analogous to being well-schooled in the lyrics and lore of the Dead, and among devoted Deadheads I have even witness ed the competition and jealousy of the yeshiva buchers (school boys/Talmud scholars), each with their contests to prove a mastery of their respective subject.

While Jews look to sacred texts and an oral tradition, Deadheads also have several sources for study. In addition to commercial and bootleg recordi ngs of the band, an extensive literature about the group has emerged. (For a comprehensive listing of such sources see The Grateful Dead and the Dea dheads: An Annotated Bibliography, Dodd and Weiner, 1997). Perhaps the most important and valuable single source of study is DeadBase (Scott, Dolg ushkin, and Nixon, 1995) described as:

the most complete and accurate listing of Grateful Dead concerts and songlists known...[M]uch more than a master list of dates and songs[,] it is a c omplex database-management system capable of performing such functions as identifying all shows where a given song, or group of songs was played, or analyzing the patterns of songs played over the years. (p. v)

This attention to the seeming minutiae of Dead-related matters parallels the practice of Talmud scholars who debate, for instance, the reason for th e placement of a letter, number, phrase or a particular reference in a given text. The use of gematria, numerology that derives numerical values fro m words and phrases, thus lending greater mystical significance to texts, has been practiced by Jews for centuries. And for over three decades now, serious followers of the Grateful Dead have sought revelation and guidance from their cryptic lyrics and the order of songs selected at a particular performance.

In deference to the sanctity of these ancient religious texts, I must acknowledge the vast difference between the sacred dialogue of Jewish scholars and the practice of serious and devoted music fans. Still, as a Jew who more often engages in musical matters rather than those sacred, I feel a cl ear and deep connection between my chosen passion for learning about the Grateful Dead and the devotion of my forefathers in their study of more divi ne matters. I will even go so far as to suggest that the wisdom we find in the words of these twentieth-century teachers and psalmists may be a smil ing example of what is meant by "the seventy faces of Torah." Shows as Shabbos

Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work: But the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God.
-Fourth Commandment

The Grateful Dead experience gives you something we all need, time out...There's something that happens there, and when it's over, you go back to the world and your TVs, and you punch the clock and it's no longer 'time out.'
- Bill Graham (Shenk & Silberman, 1994, p. 116, 118)

While most traditions include a day of rest and cessation of labor, Jews take very seriously the commandment to refrain each week from their work fo r a sacred time devoted to family and Torah study. In effect, the holiest day in Jewsih life is not the annual celebration of Yom Kippur but the wee kly keeping of the Sabbath. Great preparation precedes the Friday night ritual where candles are lit and blessed along with challah (specially braid ed egg bread) and sweet wine. For a people whose history is marked by oppression, this symbolic time of peace proves both sacred and practical for J ews everywhere.

That same special feeling accompanied the anticipation, preparation, and experience of a Grateful Dead concert. Like Shabbos (Yiddish for Sabbath), a show was a time for "being" rather than "doing," for what Bill Graham called a true "time out" to celebrate in what for many was a truly sacred sp ace. The ritual began, in much the same way that Jews invite Shabbos dinner guests, with the assemblage of friends and family with whom to share the concert experience. In place of lighting candles, there was the ritual and recreational use of incense and other combustibles. Sacred wine was sup plemented by a range of beverages, and in place of challah Deadheads ate 'kind veggie burritos' and tofu stir fry. The customs and accoutrements var y, but the spirit remained the same.

In our increasingly complex world, the need for 'down time' becomes a physical and psychic necessity. Jews have a mandate to keep the Sabbath, yet not all will choose to make the time to do so. By contrast, devoted Deadheads went out of their way to see shows and enjoy the benefits whenever and wherever possible. Jewish Deadheads, with one exception, seized a familiar, Shabbos-like opportuninity every time the Grateful Dead played. The ex ception to this confluence of two worlds are those Orthodox Jews who are Shomer Shabbos (observers of Sabbath) and whose beliefs and practice led the m to the dictum "no shows on Shabbos" - although listening to tapes of concerts held on Fridays is permitted (Shenk & Silberman, 1994, p. 205-206). Haight -Ashbury as a Shtetl and Jerusalem

If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair...For those who come to San Francisco, summertime will be a Love-In there .
- Scott McKenzie, "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)"

Here in our little village of Anatevka, you might say everyone of us is a 'Fiddler on the Roof,' trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune withou t breaking his neck...And how do we keep our balance?...Traditions!
- Tevye the Dairyman (based on the character from Old Country Tales, Sholom Aleichem, 1966)

Left my home in Norfolk, Virginia, California on my mind. Straddled that Greyhound, it rode me past Raleigh, and on across Carolina...Tell the folks back home this is the Promised land callin' and the poor boy's on the line.
- Chuck Berry, "Promised Land" (frequently covered by the Grateful Dead)

The San Francisco neighborhood named for the intersection of Haight and Ashbury streets was the birthplace of the counterculture, a place where the "shared enjoyment of art, music, psychedelics, and the spirituality and sensuality of daily life" was celebrated during the middle and late 1960s (Sh enk & Silberman, 1994, p. 130-131). The Haight was also the original homeland of the Grateful Dead. Although never a stylish address, this working- class neighborhood attracted its first post-Beat/pre-Hippie residents to run-down, low-rent Victorian houses well-suited to communal living. The are a became a counterculture ghetto serving the same role in its community as the shtetl of eastern Europe did for its Jewish communities. Like Tevye's "Anatevka" in the acclaimed play and film Fiddler on the Roof, in those modest towns "certain Jewish traditions were preserved and embellished until they achieved a character distinctly their own...Jews produced their own peoples culture, an independent style of life and thought, an original gall ery of human types...there yiddishkeit (Jewish culture) entered a golden age" (Rosten, 1986, p. 373-374). And just as the shtetl Jews were eventuall y dispersed around the globe, members of the Grateful Dead left the Haight after its golden age, leading an exodus to new homes in Marin County, and other havens north of the City and beyond.

In its heyday, and even to this day, Haight-Ashbury has been something of a "promised land" for followers of the Grateful Dead. As such, it also ha s the function of Jerusalem, the capital and largest city in Israel, and a holy city for Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike. Beginning in 1967 duri ng the media-dubbed "Summer of Love," thousands flocked to the Haight for the music, drugs, freedom, and community it promised. The same year saw th e "Six-Day War" in which Jews won back significant portions of their holy city. To this day, much as Jews are drawn to the Holy Land and Jerusalem, carloads of Deadheads make a pilgrimage to San Francisco, stopping for a photo-opportunity beneath the street signs at the corner of Haight and Ashbu ry. (In a telling sign of our times, the infamous corner is now home to a Ben & Jerry's ice cream store.)

Additional Similarities

This teaching is not remote or mysterious. It is not...across the sea...It is very close to you. It is in your mouth and in your heart so that you can fulfill it.
- Deuteronomy 30:11-14

Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right.
- Robert Hunter, "Scarlet Begonias"

Along with the above-mentioned similarities, countless connections may be drawn between Jews and Deadheads to further illuminate the appeal of the G rateful Dead for its Jewish fans. For instance, some members of each community comprise its most committed and single-minded followers. Among Jews, the Ultra-Orthodox adhere to the letter of every law and live mostly apart from more liberal Jews and the greater community. There is often tension between the two worlds as is being witnessed currently in Israel where the Ultra-Orthodox refuse to recognize religious conversions performed by rab bis from less fundamentalist branches of Judaism. To those on the right, other types of Jews are not even considered Jewish. A parallel exists with "Deep Deadheads" who are so involved and committed to the music, culture, beliefs, and lifestyle associated with the Grateful Dead that they will no t tolerate, and will often alienate music fans (including Deadheads) of lesser zeal. In both cases I have seen a backlash occur resulting in the rej ection of Judaism or the Dead after contact with Ultra-Orthodox or Deep Deadheads.

Similarly, both communities have held up their leaders in a form of hero worship which resembles deification. Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, kno wn to the world simply as "the Rebbe," was head of the Lubavitcher Hasidic movement of Judaism for forty-four years. Regarded by his followers and o thers as a sage and a visionary of the highest order, the Rebbe died in June, 1994, leaving a movement in sadness and chaos. This sounds to me a lot like the way Deadheads exalt Jerry Garcia, leader of the Grateful Dead for nearly thirty years. Known to fans the world over simply as "Jerry," the guitarist, singer, and songwriter inspired devotion that, like the Rebbe, has continued and grown since his death in August, 1995. The sorrow over Garcia's death was evident in an outpouring of grief noted particularly among Jewish fans who have been known to mark Jerry's death with the traditio nal yahrzeit, the annual observance of the death of a loved-one. (Arnold, 1996, p. 24; Bleiweiss, 1995-96, p. 9).

Furthermore, several Jewish traditions have their counterpart in Deadhead customs. Take for instance the practice of giving tzedakah (charity) in w hich Jews fulfill an obligation to establish justice through righteous and compassionate gifts to others. From an early age I recall being encourage d to give to those less fortunate, a practice I attempt to continue through action and gifts as an adult. The Grateful Dead have aligned with this s ame spirit in their own Rex Foundation, a "growing circle of donors" with a range of interests including environmental, political and cultural concer ns. Philanthropies started by band members include Mickey Hart's Planet Drum Foundation, the Unbroken Chain Foundation created by Phil Lesh and frie nds, and the recent FOREST AID Benefit Tour featuring Bob Weir, Rob Wasserman, and Mickey Hart.

A tradition which mandates that Jews work for tikkun olam, to mend, repair, and transform the planet, has led to Jewish environmentalism and spiritu al healing efforts around the world. The Dead have also taken up the cause of ecology, playing several benefit concerts for the Rainforest Action Ne twork and Cultural Survival. Significant profits from the CD release Deadicated, a collection of fifteen different Grateful Dead tunes performed by different artists, went to these two organizations. Band members have also been involved in tikkun olam through their recent efforts to save the Hea dwaters Redwood Forest in California.

The ancient image of the "wandering Jew" has a modern counterpart in the "Tourheads" who followed the Grateful Dead around the country and the world . Like a people cast to the winds, or moreso like Talmud students who followed their teachers from town to town in turn-of-the-century Russia, devot ion drew followers of each to journey far in their search for enlightenment (Druckerman, 1994, p. 23).

When I reflect on these matters it becomes clear that a certain mystical connection exists between Jews and the Grateful Dead. Jewish mysticism kno wn as kabbalah was rarely taught or practised by modern Jews. My earliest questions about it were met with curt replies and instruction to leave suc h matters to others. Until a recent resurgence of interest, kabbalah was something of a secret tradition, which like other deep and joyous aspects, were not always evident or accessible to most Jews. No wonder then that we sought joy and revelation in the Grateful Dead, unaware how close that ex perience really was to our own religious and cultural tradition.

DARK STAR, WHARF RATS, & THE WHEEL: The Shadow Side and the Future of Jews, Deadheads, and the World as We know it

The history of the Grateful Dead is inseparable from the use of psychedelic drugs. Born of the Acid Tests, author Ken Kesey and the 'Merry Prankste r's' experiments in human/drug interactions, the band was never far from an association with one or another mind-altering substance (see Wolfe, 1968) . LSD, marijuana, and a range of other hallucinogens fueled their early creativity. Their escape from Haight-Ashbury signaled a shift to even more dangerous diversions including speed, cocaine, and heroin.

He's gone, and nothin's gonna bring him back...

While several members of the Grateful Dead ceased to rely on drugs as their muse, other members fell into a cycle of abuse and addiction that eventu ally led to their deaths. The first to go was Pigpen who died from his alcoholism in 1973. Keith Godchaux died in a 1980 car wreck, probably while driving under the influence. Brent Mydland died of a drug overdose in 1990. And most recently Jerry Garcia's longtime heroin addiction contributed to the heart failure that claimed his life while in treatment at a Marin County residential facility.

Now he's gone Lord, he's gone...And nothin's gonna bring him back...

Deadheads often shared the same diversions and demons as the band members, and knew all too well the 'shadow' side of an otherwise joyous obsession. Among Dead fans, lives were lost, and others changed forever, while in pursuit of, or as a result of, "having a high time."

Dark Star crashes, pouring its light into ashes...

One such casualty was Adam Katz, a young Jewish man found dead outside the Meadowlands Arena in New Jersey during a Grateful Dead concert in 1989. His family has spent the years since then seeking information about Adam's mysterious and tragic death, and offering a reward totaling $40,000 (see " An Appeal from the Family," 1995).

Half of my life, I spent doin' time for some other f***er's crime, the other half found me stumblin' around drunk on Burgandy wine...

There exists a medical myth that Jews are somehow less prone to alcohol abuse, and thus to addiction, because wine figures centrally into Jewish rit ual practice. This reasoning focuses on Kiddush, the prayer and ceremony that sanctifies the Sabbath and Jewish holy days and is recited over a cup of wine. Wine is used prominently in the seder meal and to celebrate all manner of simchas (joyous events) in the Jewish lifecycle. The notion that purposeful use somehow prevents the abuse of wine or other alcohol and drugs is nonsense. Among Deadheads Jewish and not, where ritual use of addic tive substances is also part of common practice, the same problems exist as in the population at large where approximately ten percent may suffer fro m some type of addiction. Anyone who chooses to partake may indeed fall prey to the inability to refrain.

But I'll be back on my feet someday, the good Lord willin,' if He says I may. I know that the life I'm livin's no good, I'll get a new start, live t he life I should...

Hope, creativity, and ingenuity abound in the Deadhead community, however, as evidenced in the formation of the "Wharf Rats," a self-help group base d on the '12-Step' model of recovery from addiction, and named after the Dead song that chronicles the struggle of a character named August West to o vercome his wino ways. During the latter years of Grateful Dead performances, recovering Deadheads would gather in a specified location for a "meeti ng," sharing stories and support in their own struggles to stay sober.

There's a band out on the highway, they're highsteppin' into town, it's a rainbow full of sound, it's fireworks, calliopes, and clowns, everybody's d ancin'...

These days, dispatches from San Francisco tell tales of the sordid wranglings over Garcia's estate. At the same time, Grateful Dead Merchandising ( the bands mail-order service) continues to release long-sought recordings of classic concerts in a series called "Dick's Picks," after their archivis t Dick Latvala. And the recent tour by The Other Ones is a confluence of former and new band members with emphasis placed both on new material and r eworked versions of Grateful Dead staples.

Sun went down in honey and the moon came up in wine, you know the stars were spinnin' dizzy, Lord the band kept us so busy, we forgot about the time. ..

Even as threads of the original band are woven into new musical patterns, other strands are being spun off in a myriad of new ways. Close relatives like the bands Zero, Missing Man Formation, and Merle Saunders' Rainforest Band, are joined by numerous groups covering material from the Grateful D ead repertoire to keep the original flame alive. Meanwhile, several "groove" bands bring the Dead's spirit of improvisation to their own music. Amo ng these newer groups are Blues Traveler, Widespread Panic, Rusted Root, moe., and the Dave Matthews Band, each of which is gaining a following with qualities reminiscent of the Dead's.

Keep on dancin' through to daylight, greet the morning air with song, no one's noticed, but the band's all packed and gone, Was it ever here at all? But they keep on dancin'...

The most prominent and popular band of this new, post-Dead legacy is Phish, a quartet from Burlington, Vermont, known for their zany stage antics an d extended musical excursions. Two founding members of Phish, Jon Fishman and Mike Gordon, are Jews, and the band's already vast and eclectic repert oire has delved into Jewish music on several occasions. On their recording Hoist, strains of the tune "Jerusalem of Gold" are heard at the conclusio n of another song. And reports are that "Avinu Malkenu" (Our Father, Our King), a chant from the Yom Kippur liturgy, has shown up in more than one o f their live performances. With a horde of devoted fans following their tours and ever-changing song selection (fans even publish a Pharmer's Almana c to track the band's output), Phish clearly resembles the Dead and is poised to serve as a replacement for Deadheads, both Jewish and not.

Well the cool breeze came on Tuesday, and the corn's a bumper crop, and the fields are full of dancin,' full of singin' and romancin,' and the music never stopped...

EPILOGUE: The Wheel is Turning and You Can't Slow Down

After his bar mitzvah in the Orthodox tradition, my father found his way to the Reform movement. This is the modern, third branch of Judaism which in it's origins dispensed with certain practices (such as the wearing of yarmulkah and tallit), and often took on the trappings of Christian worship including choirs, pipe organs, and large, ornate sanctuaries. As I looked to the Grateful Dead in my own search for chevra, ruach, and neshama, my s earch mirrored the way in which my dad sought a Judaism different from that of his own parents.

Like other Jews in the diaspora, the historic dispersion from the Jewish homeland to resettlement around the world, my search for spirituality and c ommunity has been a "long strange trip." From large, sterile synagogues to concert halls where I worshipped at the altar of rock and roll, I've now come full-circle to a new and joyous experience of Judaism. I am active in a family-based havurah (fellowship group) affiliated with the fourth and newest branch, Reconstructionist Judaism, which embraces time-honored traditions while evolving to incorporate egalitarian liturgy and practice. In addition, I have found a "post-denominational" point of view in Jewish Renewal (see Lerner, 1994), which mirrors many Hasidic ways while embracing Je wish mysticism and welcoming perspectives from the teachings and practice of Native-American, Sufi, Buddhist, and other spiritual paths.

Like many of those diverse traditions, Jewish Renewal has encouraged seeking a 'teacher' to guide one's spiritual journey. I first found such a gui de in Reb Ya'acov Gabriel, a rabbi and musician who recorded and toured as a secular artist before turning to mostly religious themes. (It helps tha t "Rabbi Jack" saw the Grateful Dead perform at the Fillmore and crossed paths with them on Haight Street.)

From Reb Ya'acov I learned of the Hasidic master Reb Nachman of Bratzlav (1772-1810) who suggested that "to go from sadness to joy we should do at l east one 'silly' thing each day." This then certainly resonates with both my Jewish roots and my Deadhead and 'Prankster' spirit. Reb Nachman "also encouraged learning simple, heartful tunes to sing anytime we needed to elevate our spirits." Again, the Dead's music has brought levity and solace to me on countless occasions, just as the old rebbe said it would. And Reb Nachman told how to "borrow joy" by reflecting on a time when we were ha ppy in order to enrich us in the present. So many times I have thought back to the ecstatic dancing at a Dead show to bring "just a little light" in to my life. (Gabriel, 1998, p. 1)

One more of Reb Nachman's teachings may be transvalued for use in this way. He said that each of us needs a "dead hour," when we are removed from t he distractions of our daily world and able to connect with God in our own way, using our own language to pour out our appreciation of life as well a s our tears and heartaches. As a Jew and a Deadhead I've done this for well over twenty years, finding a voice in the songs of the Grateful Dead tha t makes a deep spiritual connection to my historic community and religious tradition. By straddling these two communities I double my opportunitites for finding a deep connection to the divine.

So, that must be why the Grateful Dead was always following Jews around. Let your life proceed by its own design...let the words be yours I'm done with mine...

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Douglas M. Gertner, Ph.D., is a teacher, trainer, consultant, and author in Denver, Colorado. He is active in Reconstructionist Judaism and Jewish Renewal activities as a founding member of a five-year-old havurah group, and a two-time member of the ALEPH Kallah Steering Committee. After attending more than 5O Grateful Dead concerts he keeps the flame alive with his multimedia presentation "Who were the Grateful Dead and Why were they always following Jews around?" which has been attended by hundreds of fans since 1996. The author wishes to thank the following for their comments on an earlier draft of this essay: Eve Babitz, Rabbi Eliot Baskin, Rabbi Jack Gabriel, Prof. Michael Kimmel, Patty Lynn, Dennis McNally, Beatrice Merkin, Barrett Miller, Todd A. Prusin, Rabbi Brant Rosen, Prof. Howard Sacks, Prof. Steven Schwartz, Prof. Sally Stich, Molly Wingate and Maggie Miller, my dance partner in life and at shows, who first encouraged me to 'go public' with this mishegaas. Contact Doug at dgertner@msec.org