Interesting anecdote on Carlos: Some of you old Rocking Chair exponents may recall why Gram parson's never toured SAfrica in 1968? He didn't want to play in front of segregated audiences? So say the history books, rock encyclopedias & all the rest. While Dave Crosby & Gene Clarke were still with the band, they had recorded with Hugh Masekela in 1966 & Hugh would have made them aware of the situation in South Africa, no doubt. Infact, when 3rd Ear Music brought Crosby, Stills & Nash out to Africa in 1995, the Crosby / Masekela re-union at the Standard Bank Arena in Johannesburg, was quite an occasion - Hugh himself having been in exile for 35 years.

Parsons certainly seemed to have a political bent & was very aware of the racist & segregation problems in his own country; however his motives for not touring were not purely political. Gene Vincent's Blue Caps stayed behind in Capetown 10 years earlier (on their 1959 South African Tour with local act Mickey Most & The Playboys), clever PR & a few spin doctors who had to cover for the guys because they were having such a good time in Capetown - brought out the opportune racist bogey. Why go up to Jo'Burg anyway?

Well, according to a few of Gram's friends - they confided some years later to Rock music fanatic, researcher & friend Richard Haslop - there wasn't a political slant to his reasons for not touring. That came after a few differences & counter-decisions with the band. Being a Gram Parson's people - both Richard & I in noway wish to denigrate Gram, and the official version may be the only one - but it's not quite true. The Byrds were going through some changes & various members were committed to solo projects anyway; besides Gram was in London in July 1968 when the SA Tour was about to start & he didn't want to leave. He was having a good time. So Carlos, their Road manager - before joining the Turtles fulltime as Tour manager - took on the task of filling in on Guitar - & Bass too I think! However principled Gram & the Byrds may have been - and we don't doubt that - & however abhorrent the idea & application of segregated audiences were, the Byrds did undertake to do the tour as a band. Besides if they were that concerned, why did CBS (through Gallo Africa) promote & release their albums so vigorously? There were a number of suggestions - from 3rd Ear Music as well - that artists who were serious about the cultural boycott, should prevent their records from being play listed on National State Radio, the SABC - our segregated Public Broadcaster. This never happened. For every anti-racist announcement made through a press secretary of the record labels' PR, sales would increase. They were selling good quantities of records & that Byrd's tour was part of promoting those sales, no matter what the pious & the PC may claim today.

As the Turtles & 3 Dogs tour progressed I also got to learn just how controlled, seedy & manipulative the live music industry in the USA could be - having believed that seedy was the exclusive domain of the record industries around the world. The economics of the Turtles disbanding & 3 Dog Night blazing a trail for their future, was reasonably understood & that much accepted - but I couldn't believe how hysterical the management got after the Jackson concert. They insisted on Half Sound Half Lights for The Turtles - a practice I was going to get to know more about at future South African festivals & tours. Bullshit was the general sound & lighting crew response.

3 Dog Night were too big to be too friendly; they didn't speak to our crew, ever. The Turtles & Hoyt on the other hand were our friends & we rapt often. In Tampa Florida, while the Turtles were duly bringing the house down, one of the irate 3 Dog Night managers stormed over to our mixing console, wading through the frenzied dancing arena crowds, and demanded that the 1/2 sound 1/2 lights rule be applied - immediately!

I think Harold Cohen was mixing at the time; but I doubt whether he complied, one couldn't tell above the crowd. We heard that things got rough after the show when Harold was told that Hanley Sound would be taken off the tour if he didn't help sabotaged the Turtles set; apparently there was the lecture about the economics & investments at stake; that The Turtles were on the way out & the 3 Dogs were on the way in; that we had better comply, blah, blah, blah.

I'm not sure if Mark & the boys got to know what happened - and if they did I don't think it would have bothered them much. They were also a little tired & jaded & looking forward to the end of the tour - they'd been on the road for nearly 6 years by then. But their professional attitude, undying humour & polished if ad hoc performances continued to rule & we sustained a true mix until the end of the tour, without cheating. The bummer of the response together with the obvious rejection of their songs, were 3 Dog Nights problem - not The Turtles or Hanley sound.

It's funny how chance & coincidence work. Hoyt Axton was a great & gifted songwriter & 3 Dog Night were on their way to becoming a popular show band -all that had to be done between the two was the connection. Just because Hoyt played his songs solo with one guitar didn't make them exclusive or that he shouldn't be heard.

Hoyt's songs, that those raucous southern rock audiences didn't or couldn't hear, must have eventually impressed 3 Dog Night - because soon after returning to South Africa I heard, around 1971, that 3 Dog Night were topping the rock charts all over the world with Joy to The World - the biggest selling single in the USA, 1971; followed by Jeremiah Was Bull Frog, and a whole string of Hoyt Axton Compositions that he opened the show with on that 1969 Southern States Turtle & 3 Dog Night trucking tour.

Hoyt Axton, who went on to become a well known & much loved Hollywood & TV character actor throughout the 80's & 90's, with that unmistakable deep grainy musical voice & his grey hat, sadly died in 2000.

Hoyt Axton, Memphis Tennessee, Nov 1969 (p)© David Marks / 3rd Ear Music 2001

The Load Out - Jackson Browne must have got a synchronistical acquirement of that song from every musician who ever spent time loading in & out of gigs. How many musicians & songwriters today didn't start their careers writing songs about that very phenomenon? The first to arrive & the last to go - even before & after the band & the lighting crew - was the sound crew.

Arriving at halls, stadiums, clubs or arenas long before anybody got there - from Angola to Mozambique, from Toronto to El Paso and countless stops in between - one of the great thrills of the gig for me, was getting to sit in an empty hall, or arena alone, if possible - before & after. Memphis, Tennessee & another set-up for the 3 Dog, Turtles & Axton tour. This time we'd slept well at the Holiday Inn. Often on these tours you'd wake up in either the Green & Gold of the Holiday Inns or the Orange & Blue of the Howard Johnson's - they all looked, smelt & felt the same - you wouldn't know where you were or what state or town you were in. But Memphis was different. I'd passed through here before - by thumb & Greyhound on my way to & from Nashville as the prospective top South African hit songwriter & white city Folk singer.

I never saw Graceland - didn't really want too. Elvis was a marked influence on my life and a total hero until I saw GI Blues. That's when my rock & roll world fell apart. What a sell out I thought. Secretly I'd try & sneak the odd post GI Blues song into my mind, but nothing after Elvis in the US Army went as far as my heart. It wasn't until many years later - after having been thoroughly whip lashed by goings on in our own SAfrican music industry - that I began to understand just how helpless & manipulated this lonely man must have been. But in 1969 I thought that he all was big & powerful & ruled - talented enough to jump right out of that ridiculous monkey suit they squeezed him into in Las Vegas, and punch them all in the nose - just like in Jailhouse Rock.

It's funny, tragic I suppose, that Elvis is remembered in far out places like Africa & Europe as the man in the white monkey suit with gold braids & a wing flap collar; & not for the real rebel that he was in tight jeans, ducktail & attitude. What happened? I was glad to be in Memphis, for no other reason but to say I'd been there a few times.

Memphis Auditorium - Photo by Harold Cohen or Rick - Nov 1969 (p)© David Marks / 3rd Ear Music 2001

Had a few lousy American Beers the night before, when we arrived & played some new fashioned 5 Iron Pin Ball - not like the old shooters we had in Johannesburg; I also dropped a dime in the duke-box to hear The Band do The Weight again - take a load off Fanny, take a load for free - take a load off Fanny & put your load right on me... There was no pre-GI Blues Elvis, so I wasn't going to waist another Memphis dime.

I woke up early & eagerly & went straight to the fabulous Memphis Auditorium before Dick had manipulated the Yellow Bird into the loading bay. The old half deaf non-Union looking caretaker let me in. It didn't take too much convincing - I had the regulation hair, blue denim & tool bag to prove I was one of those hippies who'd been booked to invade his sacred city. So sad he said that times were changing so fast & that things weren't like they were in Elvis' day. He sang here you know? Used to come by here before he got famous you know. I wandered if the auditorium had even been built in those days. Now all we have, complained the old Southern Union gentleman, are these long-haired people with loud guitars 'n things making all sorts o' noises & causing the people to jump around & dance. In Elvis' day the girls used to scream, that's all. And I wandered if he wasn't one of those parents who at the time would have forbidden his children to ever mention the word Elvis in the house, let alone buy his records or see him move those hips, a sceamin'? It was like going back to the town of Woodstock 28 years after the Festival & being told what a wonderful time & what great days those were, by some of the very people who did their level best to make it not happen. It's a strange, strange world indeed!

Ducking from the old caretaker & leaving him rambling on in the foyer to himself, I went & got lost in the empty auditorium. Just sat there & looked at the stage - that had been set, waiting for the rig to go up for the evening concert. It just felt a bit special. Like Madison Square it was neat & clean - not nearly as big - just as impressive, waiting to swallow the music gladiators who would take on the arena. The rest of the crew usually got to the venues mid morning - so that we were set up by sound-check time at around 4 to 5 pm. Sitting there in the empty Memphis Auditorium I started writing my Load In song. Something about '69 being a good year for Rock & Roll; about being the first to arrive & the last to leave; but I never got that song finished, because perhaps I knew that someone somewhere else was writing the classic Load Out song...Doctor my eyes...

The guys arrived & we joked & duly started setting up. The night before we'd had some real boyish rock & roll fun at the Holiday Inn. We weren't quite up to the level of throwing TV sets out the window; you have to be in the Hilton Hotel 5 star Rock bracket to make that sort of an impact. We did silly things; some of which I had learnt at boarding school in Witbank & passed on as wisdom to my new American friends; like how to apple-pie a bed, properly.

But this evening Carlos had got the keys for one of the Turtle's rooms - I'm not sure who it was either Al Nichol or Jim Tucker I think & maybe one of the other roadies, and we wheeled the beds out of their room & hid them in some hall down the passage way. That was great fun in itself - darting down the outside corridors on the hospital type beds, 2 up. After the gig who knows what happened to their beauty sleep. But the show went on.

The old non-union looking caretaker man followed the crew into the auditorium & repeated much of what he had told me earlier that morning. About how great Elvis really was & that we & our long hair were not doing the country any good & that the bands who played here these days were too loud. It's not always like that you know, said the old man as we finished setting up & sat to take a breather in the first few rows & wait for the sound-check, not wanting to be rude. There was still some respect for the aged in 1969 - despite our own attitudes.

Last year, he went on, we had a band here that was all dressed neatly in pastel blue suites. They had long hair too, but it was neat & tidy like. They had this pretty country singing girl with them & she just sang so sweetly & the place was packed - sold out like it is tonight. And they sang these wonderful tuneful songs. Why can't you lot be like that? pleaded the old caretaker. Elvis would have loved that music.

Who was this great good-looking neat pop band pops? one of the crew enquired. Four Jacks & a Jill, they were called son. What could I say? Hey, you're not going to believe me old man - but I wrote some of those songs? I never even told the crew about things like that either, and we'd been on the road for some time together. I wasn't going to tell them now after that sad story. I broke down & told Dick the driver once - between a particularly long stretches of boring highway. He didn't care much for Rock & Roll like he always said, but soft country type melodious rock was his sort of music & he always had the Truck radio tuned in, so he knew about the hit parades & stuff. Master Jack was one of his favourites back in 1968. And after me telling him that I wrote that, and his other favourite, Mr. Nico, he thought I was a bit nuts & we didn't talk for many miles.

I never knew much about unions until I got to the USA. The only Unions that South Africa had, that I knew of, was the white Railway & Mine-workers - but the real workers never had any such thing. It was against the law back then. How else could South Africa have been the richest country in the Southern Hemisphere without slave & migrant labour? My One Rand bought me almost $3 Dollars USA back then. Dr Jannie Smuts put paid to Unions & strikes way back in the 30's, with the army. So I don't think that working to rule or taking to the streets for better wages & working conditions was part of the non-organized work force's agenda or even the organized white unions' - who simply did their bargaining over beer & braaivleis on weekends.

England was the Union capital of the world - according to Asterix & Obilex anyway. The British armies would break at teatime while the Vikings were trying to plunder, rape & kill them. But I came to full blows with how the USA unions worked at my very first official Madison Square Gardens sound gig, in New York, for Bill Hanley -the legendary Joan Baez-Harris June Concert in the Gardens - sold out - 22 000 seats.

Bill & the Hanley Sound technicians - Harold Cohen & Sam (?) had designed this sound rig for a revolving stage, in the center of the massive arena. The stage would rotate - driven by a small motor - slowly 45 degrees, every 15 minutes, so that the entire arena could get to see this tiny distant speck of a lady somewhere down there from where the impressive sound would emanate. The sound rig was quite ingenious; the Altec 4-10 bins were hauled up into the Madison Square ceilings by cranes, pulleys & straps; the high-end sectoral & multi-cell horns were strapped around a huge metal ring that was set and pulled up over pulleys from the stage. All the cabling would be dutifully twisted so that when the stage turned they would untwist & not get tangled up with the artists & stage monitors far below. I was back living in New York after my Nashville & Newport adventures, at Ed Bastian's place on 64 Jane Street in the Village when I got the call to meet up with the Yellow Bird & the rest of the crew at Madison Square Gardens for the set-up.

At certain times of the day, the subways of New York were not the ideal way to travel alone. The underground from the East Village to Madison Square Gardens was literally door-to-door. I suppose my tight checked British looking pants, worn-out leather jacket & big brown semi-high healed boots, coupled with my up-tight attitude, made me less of a target than some of the people I saw getting hassled. Years later, in 1997 when I returned to New York with our Hidden Years Band to play the Max Yasgur Farm Woodstock re-union gig, I spent a lot of time on the flight over laying my '69 Harlem, Village & Bowery experiences on the tender young things in our band - the 6 young Alexander Township Church Choir kids - our backing group who'd never been in an airplane before. As well as for the benefit of Fran, who'd never been out of South Africa? New York is dirty folks, I preached! If you think Alex, Hillbrow & Soweto are tough Chinas, wait 'till you hit the streets of the Village & Harlem, then you'll know all about it. Talk about dirty street & bums & hustlers? Well, when we landed in New York - which I loved when I lived there, despite the warnings I'd been liberally dishing out - I was, to say the least, embarrassed. What could I say?

Not only was it the cleanest & neatest city I had ever been to in my 25 odd subsequent years on the road, but you could just feel it was safe - any time of the day & night. Even the bums & the bottle ladies were polite & well dressed in their rags. It looked as if all the hustlers & drug peddlers were either miming statues painted silver on the side of the road or playing saxophones in the Night Clubs; maybe they were absorbed into off & off-off Broadway theatres, but they certainly weren't hassling innocent looking Johannesburg township tourists in the streets. The order in New York even got so ridiculous, that I hardly heard a hooter or saw a person jay-walk, other than our band & crew. Every American & European tourist seemed to dutifully cross at the lights - waiting patiently for the little green man to change before moving. Our guys were conspicuous by their colour, trying to dodge the well-kept shinny Yellow / Orange cabs on 75th Street, as if this was Eloff Street. The first time I heard a horn honk was at one of us.