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One night in the winter of 1996, Rob Eaton, a recording engineer......


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http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/11/26/121126fa_fact_paumgarten

One night in the winter of 1996, Rob Eaton, a recording engineer who’d worked with Duran Duran and Pat Metheny, showed up at the home of a high-school chemistry teacher in Petaluma, California. Eaton had heard that the teacher had something that he and others like him were eager to get their hands on. He’d also heard that the teacher wanted to sell what he had for a million dollars, a sum no studio engineer was likely to supply. Still, one could always tender expertise. The teacher drove Eaton to a barn he owned, and they ran in through the rain. Inside, amid piles of junk, were three road cases, of the kind that rock bands use to cart around their amplifiers. Each had “Grateful Dead” stencilled on its side. In the first one, Eaton found, in addition to some rotting cookbooks, several dozen reel-to-reel tapes, caked in mold and silt. Most of them were unmarked, or at least too encrusted to read, but Eaton had an idea what some of them might be, and he felt a surge of excitement. The other boxes contained dozens more tapes, similarly degraded.

Eaton told the teacher that it was impossible to evaluate their worth, since they couldn’t know what was on the tapes, or even whether they were playable. The teacher grudgingly lent him five of the worst-looking reels, and Eaton took them down the road to a friend’s house. The friend was Dick Latvala, who at the time was the official archivist of the Grateful Dead, the keeper of the band’s fabled vault of live recordings, and an unapologetic enthusiast who would listen to old Dead shows for twelve hours at a stretch, notebook in hand. Eaton, too, was a longtime Deadhead—he had seen the band perform around four hundred times and had been making and trading tapes of their concerts for twenty years.

Eaton cleaned the tapes with cotton balls and alcohol, and Latvala loaded one up onto his reel-to-reel. The exposed outer layer—the first thirty seconds or so—was ruined, but as the music kicked in they realized they might have a treasure on their hands, a tapehead’s Nag Hammadi. They heard Jerry Garcia, the Dead’s lead guitarist, performing a set with the organist Merl Saunders, at the Capitol Theatre in Passaic, New Jersey, on September 6, 1973—a concert that hadn’t previously surfaced. Eaton and Latvala stayed up all night listening to the reels: other Garcia solo performances, a piece of a rare Dead show from the early seventies. The most remarkable thing was the crisp sound. They were first-generation two-track analogue soundboard recordings, with stereo separation among the instruments, a chunky bass, and plenty of air.

Eaton and Latvala wondered if these were Betty Boards—tapes made by Betty Cantor-Jackson, a longtime recording engineer for the Grateful Dead. Almost from the outset, the Dead were meticulous about taping their concerts. During several periods in their history, Cantor-Jackson did the taping, mixing the soundboard feed directly onto a two-track tape as the music was being performed. (She sat offstage, wearing earphones.) In Deadhead circles, she was renowned for her ear.

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In the mid-eighties, she got into a dispute with the band over money. She went broke and lost her house in a foreclosure. Her belongings, including her tapes, which she’d withheld from the band, wound up in a storage locker in Marin County, and in 1986, after she failed to keep up with the payments, the contents, many of them damaged in a flood, were auctioned off. The Dead and its delegates declined to bid, even though dozens of Betty Boards were missing from their vault, but a few hundred people showed up—a stoner’s “Storage Wars.” Several bidders made off with batches of tapes. One batch fell into the hands of some enthusiasts who cleaned them up, transferred them to a digital format, and began distributing immaculate copies to the vast network of Deadhead tape collectors.

Another went to the chemistry teacher, who was not a Deadhead, by any stretch—“I like the Doobie Brothers,” he told me. But a kid who mowed his lawn, a member of the Dead’s road crew, had suggested that he go to the auction. As he recalls, he paid about a hundred dollars for the three road cases, which were so waterlogged that it took four men to load them into his pickup truck. He was interested in the cases, not the contents. He drove them to the barn, had a look inside, saw a sodden mess, closed them back up, and left them there for ten years. Along the way, he learned about Betty and assumed that he might have some of her coveted boards. When Jerry Garcia died, in 1995, the teacher began looking for a way to sell them.

The teacher hired Eaton to restore his tapes. In all, he restored two hundred tapes—nearly a hundred hours of music. The teacher had Eaton sign a contract stipulating that he not distribute the tapes, but Eaton made digital copies. “The music deserved to be preserved and properly archived,” he told me. “It would have been unconscionable to let it go.” The teacher, meanwhile, reached out to the Dead, in an effort to sell the tapes. Through a lawyer, he says, they offered him a hundred thousand dollars. The teacher asked for ten times that. The Dead, reeling from the loss of touring revenue after the death of Garcia, reminded him that they owned the music, even if he owned the tapes. He didn’t sell. Still, before long, copies found their way into the vault. The music came home.

In 2003, the Dead released a four-CD live album from one set of the tapes, from a series of concerts that they had performed at the Academy of Music, in Manhattan, in the spring of 1972.

Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/11/26/121126fa_fact_paumgarten#ixzz2CgMjwGOW

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That was a really great read. It really covers lots of ground. Instant street cred for the author based on his love for the Scarlet->Fire transition 11/30/80 (although I've never heard anyone call it Scar>Fire). How dare Lemeuix talk over it!

And a zinger of an Eaton quote toward the end:

I haven’t gone to see Furthur. It’s like going to see your ex-girlfriend fucking your best friend.
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That article was quite the saga, I mostly liked it although the author would have been better served had he done a little less editorializing throughout the piece.

I also admit to being a little surprised at some of Eaton's quotes given what appears to be some increased cross collateralization or at least increased interface between Furthur and DSO..

I know there are many fans of DSO that are still huge fans of BOTH Rob Eaton and John Kadlecik and have a sincere appreciation for the chemistry that existed between these two other worldly musicians. I know I am in the minority..I love Mattson and see DSO everytime they come to town, but I'm not going to deny the fact that I loved the band with JK as well..Ironically it's like different periods I loved the 70's Grateful Dead...and loved the 80's as well..Just a little differently is all..

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I have to say, I was a fly on the wall during this interview. That guy that wrote the article is a hater. Eaton did not say that. He took everything out of context. What a bunch of horse shit. RB

Thank you for that information Rob ....

sometimes the haters ... .well just hate .... when instead .... ain't no time to hate ....

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RB,

Wow, that's crazy. That is one hell of a statement to make up!

There's an intersting Phil quote about Garcia's post coma playing. I hope the author didn't take liberty with that as well!

But what Garcia had gained in poise and gravitas he’d given up in speed and imagination. Some people, including some of his bandmates, seem to prefer this period to the pre-coma years. Lesh admitted, though, that Garcia’s guitar playing had changed. “I could say that somehow it was less fluent,” he told me. “It was like he had to take a little time to make a decision every so often, whereas before there was no conscious thought or decision involved. It just came out.”
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I have to say, I was a fly on the wall during this interview. That guy that wrote the article is a hater. Eaton did not say that. He took everything out of context. What a bunch of horse shit. RB

Rob - is there any recourse when one is misquoted like this? Sick Weissman on their publicist/editor

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I have to say, I was a fly on the wall during this interview. That guy that wrote the article is a hater. Eaton did not say that. He took everything out of context. What a bunch of horse shit. RB

Rob - Thanks a bunch for unequivocally confirming truth that I have no doubt was immediately obvious to many of us here.

If like me you somehow forced yourself to wade through it all, you probably felt like I did....like you had just been subjected to a mental marathon of depressing, cynical, soulless droning-on about ephemeral, esoteric, obscurantist details and quasi-insidery pseudo-insights that barely disguise what is little more than the pathetically self-indulgent dreck of some relevance-seeking parasite.

This should be be obvious to anyone who has either the barest of bare discernment skill, the slightest of f***ing clues or the simple sense to know a steaming crock of crap when they whiff it. Hopefully the New Yorker's readers have this, since its editors clearly don't.

Talk about hater. The insidious, underhanded and manipulative way this article maligns Eaton with such purposeful mischaracterization is pretty damn despicable....malicious on a level of this clown having some sort of obsessive animosity towards Rob. Seriously, this hack literally opened his entire God-awful, exhaustingly-endless article telling a story about Eaton's work, only to set Rob up for the hanging by hanging a bunch of incendiary sentiments on him at the end.

Not that this troll hadn't already summarily trashed or otherwise denegrated pretty much everyone in some way or another. As the self-appointed narrator of Universe Dead (courtesy of the ever-profound New Yorker) this pygmy paints Phil Lesh as being condescending and hard of hearing in a single bound (the truth likely being more about Phil's undoubtedly super-tuned jackass detection powers after almost 50 years of suffering similarly repulsive poseurs as this "writer"). Funny coincidence that Phil just happened to walk out of the interview.

Then of course we get the surly ranting running catalog of stereotypes and prejudices to condemn pretty much every kind of deadhead who is, well...not him....and thus so not in his league of ultra-heady headiness that he can barely deign to tell us how unenlightened, unworthy or degenerate they are.

Not to leave any surviving Dead band members unscathed (the ones he actually mentions anyway), he claims private witness to Bob Weir's supposed conceit and egotism with Bob supposedly confiding in him about how he carried Garcia for most of a decade. (Mmm. Yes. Indeed. Please tell us more how you know what Bob Weir thinks.)

And this is all to be taken as gospel from a malanthropic gasbag so petty that he actually makes an anecdote of being butthurt over David Lemieux's not showing enough appreciation or attention to some 1980 audience recording passage this pseudo-profound douchenozzle of a writer apparently worships with neurotic fixation.

This person is not so much in need of a better editor as a world-class shrink, if not a righteous smack.

Honest to God, I became almost nauseated about half-way into the article and at the end I felt like I needed a shower after letting myself get sucked into such nonsense from such a dismally-stunted mind. If this article is what passes for insight and illumination, I think I'd rather be blind in the dark.

I suspect Eaton would summarize more simply: Dude just doesn't get it.

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have to say, I was a fly on the wall during this interview. That guy that wrote the article is a hater. Eaton did not say that. He took everything out of context. What a bunch of horse shit. RB

Thanks Rob B. for the clarification. It seemed a bit off kilter and contrary on it's face, so i'm glad for the insight.

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Still, all in all a great story... old shows resurfacing after all those years, in that kind of way really makes for a good story...

Sucks about the hater reporter though... that aint right misrepresenting anyone with those kind of quotes... ALTHOUGH the whole "watching your ex-girlfriend fuck your best friend" quote had me pissing my pants I was laughing so hard...

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If like me you somehow forced yourself to wade through it all, you probably felt like I did....like you had just been subjected to a mental marathon of depressing, cynical, soulless droning-on about ephemeral, esoteric, obscurantist details and quasi-insidery pseudo-insights that barely disguise what is little more than the pathetically self-indulgent dreck of some relevance-seeking parasite.

Hey Tyler, you mind if I use this line on a dude at work?

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Hey Tyler, you mind if I use this line on a dude at work?

It's public domain now as far as I'm concerned,so please feel free (and I'm flattered you would ask lol), Gotta say, though, God hep ya if you have to work with someone who fits that shit...

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No, not much we can do. He took great liberty with off the cuff remarks and like most modern reporters quoted out of context.

Douche bag!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi, very new member here, but I just wanted to suggest a letter to the editor if you really feel that statement(s) have been taken out of context or are simply erroneous. The New Yorker is a fairly prestigious publication with high journalistic standards and integrity of content. A whole lot more people read their letters than this forum...just sayin'. They also publish corrections on a weekly basis.

I have a feeling that they'll get a fair amount of mail regarding this story (I, for one, really enjoyed most of it), but since you represent a party involved in the actual research and interview process you'd have a fair chance of getting published, and at the very least it would get to Mr. Paumgarten. Cheers.

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Still, all in all a great story... old shows resurfacing after all those years, in that kind of way really makes for a good story...

Sucks about the hater reporter though... that aint right misrepresenting anyone with those kind of quotes... ALTHOUGH the whole "watching your ex-girlfriend fuck your best friend" quote had me pissing my pants I was laughing so hard...

Always enjoy about hearing new recordings coming to life and........still laughing.....

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Hmmm, a letter to the editor eh?? How about just directly to the source of the mischief and malignance...

--------------

Dear Mr. Palmgarbage,

Your bemusing "article" in the New Yorker was such a stunning contribution to the Grateful Dead 'canon', as you would term it, I couldn't help but be reminded of a famous knickerbocker of yore whose words from over 100 years ago forever sum up your essential worth and the true nature of your laborious loquacity:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." - TR

Perhaps you spent a bit too much time in the arenas...in the bleachers, that is....'standing still with your arms crossed'....to ever grasp where the real credit and gratitude lie for making it worth being there at all, especially to those of us for whom the exhausting price was often having to suffer the company of such fine persons as yourself.

Gratefully and Headily Yours,

TPN

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