Listening to KFMK during my first
drive to Galveston (without having an FM radio in the car)
"So I
grabbed out the car,
convertible '59,
Headed to the freeway,
tried to find the Pasadena sign"
The Bee Gees, "Marley
Purt Drive" from the album Odessa (1969)
This essay describes the time I drove
the Chevy to the levy. It was actually a seawall. The KFMK
program mentioned is the long aircheck listed at the top
of this column.
Saturday, August 24, 1968, 3:00
A.M. A house near the Gulf Freeway on Houston's southeast
side...
While drinking a first cup of coffee,
I started taping KFMK on my recently acquired Tandberg reel
to reel unit. I then began to simultaneously record the
same broadcast on a portable cassette unit. My intention
was to drive to Galveston and to take the cassette along.
Before leaving, I stepped into the
front yard to take in the refreshingly damp pre-dawn air.
I was suddenly approached by a young man who lived nearby.
He told me that he had been up all
night. He told me that there was a prowler on his roof.
("Prowler" was not the precise term he used, but
I try to keep these radio pages as family friendly as possible.)
This is the Edgebrook - Almeda Mall
area we're talking about. It's not much to look at today,
but in 1968 it was the epitome of the clean, suburban dream.
Nowadays, a prowler on a roof might
seem like an everyday thing in Houston. But in 1968, we
didn't tolerate that sort of nonsense. It hardy ever happened.
I saw no phantom prowler perched
atop his home. I saw nobody around but the young man and
me.
He also told me he had taken LSD.
That helped explain things a little.
Assuring myself that the area was
secure, I got into my flat-finned '59 Chevy Impala convertible
and headed to Galveston on the Gulf Freeway. It was the
first time I had ever driven a car outside of the immediate
Houston area.
As you might expect , the Chevy had
no FM radio and no cassette deck. However, I would make
good use of my portable cassette player. Cassettes were
still a novelty, but I had already carried them here, there,
and everywhere for over two years.
As I hurled the Impala cautiously
toward Galveston, I made that KFMK recording my soundtrack.
The cassette also had a short segment from KILT-- a recording
of a newly released song called "Hey Jude."
It was by some band that was somewhat
well known at the time. I rewound that tape repeatedly.
The KFMK segment had "Revolution," the flip side
of the same single.
At that age, a song like "Hey
Jude" might seem to embody all the hopes that the future
had to offer. Cassettes allowed you to take your audio inspiration
anywhere and to play it over and over. That is exactly what
I did on the way to Galveston.
I was a bit nervous driving, encountering
a thunderstorm as I approached the island and passing an
accident on the causeway.
As the storm let up, I headed down
Broadway and made a right on Seawall Boulevard. I stopped
the car at the Flagship
Hotel, a building which rests on a pier.
I walked onto the pier and noticed
a car marked "just married" with a bunch of tin
cans attached. Until then, I had only seen that in the movies.
A sign on the couple's car said,
"Now it's legal." I assumed that meant an existing
cohabitation now had the full endorsement of the government.
I never even saw the couple, but I have often wondered whether
that particular marriage lasted.
I went into the hotel coffee shop
just for a cup of coffee.
While on the pier, I shot a picture
of the storm clearing over the water. (Photo shown in right
column.)
I also took pictures of some surfer
girl types. (Unfortunately, the girl photos have not survived.)
These were the first of hundreds of pictures I would eventually
take in Galveston.
I took down the top of the '59 Impala.
I stood there drinking some Constant Comment iced tea, returning
to my recording of KFMK.
After that, I went to Saint Mary's
Hospital. I had a delivery to make there for the family
business. That was the real reason for the trip.
I headed home. When I got back, I
listened to the playback of the reel to reel tape. Somehow
that Elvin Bishop song had an effect on me. It was something
about "Drunk again." I had never actually been
drunk, but the song made me realize that I was tired. I
went back to sleep for a while.
A few days later, I made a similar
trip to Galveston, again parking by The Flagship. That time
I took a friend along. (The second sunrise picture on the
right was probably taken during the second trip.)
At St. Mary's, we found that we couldn't
open the trunk of the car to get the package out for delivery.
A hospital maintenance man came to our assistance.
This trip followed several days of
turmoil at the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago. After
he rescued our package, the maintenance man looked at us
and asked with a straight face, "Are you some of them
there Yippies?"
That was the way life was late in
the summer of 1968.
G.M. |