Jerry Garcia Remembered

A flame of musical creativity that inspired a generation was extinguished 15 years ago today. On August 9, 1995 Jerry Garcia died of a heart attack at the Serenity Knolls treatment center in California.

How I learned of the news is etched in my mind; a memory that will never fade away. It was a Wednesday afternoon and I was working at The Birmingham Post. That day I was in charge of planning the pages of the Business Section and telephoned Andrew Leach, the city editor in London, to tell him the number of words required for his City View column.

"Have you heard that Jerry's died?" Andrew said. "It's just come over on the wires." I knew instantly who Jerry was; it was Jerry Garcia, the lead guitarist and vocalist, to some the spiritual leader, of the Grateful Dead.

Three months earlier, Andrew had revealed he was a fellow Deadhead after he read my interview with Bob Weir at the Oakland Coliseum. While we commiserated about Garcia's death, I called up the Press Association's news wire on the computer screen just to see the news for myself. It was no mistake; Reuters had it, too.

In another industry, Andrew and I would have talked at length but the newspaper industry is one governed by tight deadlines. He had stories to write; I had the eight pages of the Business Section to plan. The Wednesday shift was always my busiest of the week. I was under the cosh from the moment I started work at three o'clock in the afternoon.

The news left me feeling gutted. Despite the buzz and chatter of the newsroom, I felt alone in my grief. The news of Garcia's death seemed unreal but its veracity was undeniable. For a brief moment, working on the next day's edition of The Birmingham Post seemed a futile and pointless exercise.

A cornerstone of my life for the previous 25 years had gone. Through the good times and the bad times, Garcia and the Grateful Dead had always been there. The good times were always better when the Dead were playing; the bad times were made bearable.

In talking to others about the Dead, I always used to say that they had a song for every occasion. In this dark and dire moment, He's Gone from the Europe 72 album started to play in my mind "He's gone, he's gone and nothing's going to bring him back. He's gone." Those words of the song's refrain offered some consolation and were enough to jolt me be back to my duties and the task in hand. The show had to go on. In my case, the pages had to be planned and stories output to the down table subs in order for Thursday's edition of the newspaper to appear.

When the down table sub-editors arrived to start their shift, those who had heard the news of Garcia's death, either on the radio or TV, came to offer words of comfort. The subs all knew that I was the newsroom's resident Deadhead from my articles and CD reviews. When I used to send out a story for subbing, I always used to write "Deadhead deadhead deadhead" in the place where the headline was to go. It seemed apt; it was a dead headline and also denoted my devotion to the musical phenomenon that was the Grateful Dead.

The most touching moment came when the editorial conference ended. Before Nigel Hastilow, the editor, took his seat on the back bench, he wandered over to me and offered his condolences, as one rock fan to another. Nigel is a big Led Zeppelin fan and he understood the feeling of loss I was experiencing. Being outside of his inner circle, I appreciated his kind gesture all the more.

Today, like every August 9 for the past 15 years, I will spend a few moments in quiet reflection, remembering a man whose music underpinned my life and the lives of countless Deadheads across the world. A celebration of the music will follow. The initial choice from my iTunes library will probably be Stella Blue, Days Between, Goin' Down The Road Feeling Bad and Not Fade Away. And yes, there will be a lump in my throat and a tear or two in my eyes.

I am still, and always will be, touched by Garcia's musical artistry and the genius of the Grateful Dead. For sheer emotive expression, few guitarists can compare with Garcia's improvisational solos. And, for me, the Grateful Dead will always be the best band in the world.

I owe an eternal debt of gratitude to Jerry and the Grateful Dead. My life would be much the poorer without their presence in it.