In the 50s and 60s some deejays broke out of the radio circus and hit it big. The biggest of all was Johnny Carson. Dave Garroway, who worked here at KGU during the Korean War, was the original TODAY Show host. Rufus Thomas, Dick Clark, Johnny Otis, Wink Martindale, to name a few, began in the solitary confines of a radio booth. So did my buddy Michael C. Gwynne (right, see June 15, 2008 blog). I emailed Mike to send me an anecdote about the amazing Mr. Carlin. This came back from Mt. Kisco, New York:
Met him once at lunch in the 80s as he walked by a movie set I was working on in his Beverly Glen Canyon neighborhood.
He was walking his dog and saw the lunch set up on the street and came over to say hello to Corey Allen who was directing.
I was touched he recognized me from something.
We chatted. His dog seemed to really like me.
Then Robert Wagner, also a neighbor, showed up with his dog and the two canines took an instant dislike to each other so lunch was over even tho I already given George's dog some of my steak, with his permission of course.
In 1972 I went to San Diego to program KGB Radio. I took the gig because it made me the highest paid PD in the country, and to learn about FM. Our thing was to be "progressive." KGB began a series of live, stereo broadcasts from a club called Funky Quarters. It was on El Cajon Boulevard, close by San Diego State. An Italian-Lebanese dude named Tony Habib ran the place. His sidekick, talent booker and bouncer was Paul Loria (below left). We all became friends. Funky Quarters showcased people like Jim Croce, Loggins & Messina, Jose Feliciano, Seals & Crofts and other musicians who would become stars in the 1970s. And George Carlin played there, three times.
He always sold out the place, SRO crowds. Carlin loved to rap and hang out. "He would stay after the show till four in the morning, telling stories to the help and anyone who was around," Paul recalls. "It was a laugh a minute." One time Paul closed down the place, shut the front door and found George Carlin on the sidewalk, kissing the building." Paul asked him why he was doing that. Carlin replied: "I left and thought about how much I dug this place. Best club I ever worked in. So I came back to kiss it and say thank you."
When I talked to Paul last night he told me a story I guess I'd forgotten. Turns out that even though no one could stop Carlin from saying whatever was on his mind, I actually helped do so one night. It was on his second visit to Funky Quarters. I had a place on Maui at the time, upcountry on Piiholo Road in Makawao. Being gregarious and appreciating their efforts, I made friends with some of the botanists who were perfecting what came to be known as Maui Wowie. I was the rare outsider invited to their yearly "Grower's Conventions." These mad planters brought samples of their best product, passed them around and compared the effects of their work. At the end of the night everyone was plotzed out of their minds, stoned on the mightiest grass ever grown.
I received regular goodie-packs from Maui to keep me from missing home and enhance my offtime hours listening to the "far out" music we played on KGB-FM. I passed out pakalolo to a few friends, among them Paul and Tony. When they told me that Carlin was coming to town I provided them enough seedless super shit to make The Man as happy as he wanted to be. On opening night Paul rolled a fat joint of this paralyzing pot and passed it to Carlin. He smoked most of it and it was time to go on. "I don't know how he could walk," says Paul, "but he staggered out onto the stage. He got to the mike and then just stood there. Saying nothing. Staring out at the audience." Paul thought sure that Carlin was about to pass out from the effects of the cannibals he just consumed."
According to Paul this frozen moment lasted over a minute. Finally George Carlin spoke. "I'm so loaded I have no idea what I'm doing," he told the audience. Paul says, "Then he went into a wild, one hour stream-of-consciousness bit like Lenny Bruce that was the funniest thing I ever heard in my life." The people roared and gave Carlin a long standing ovation. Then he exited the stage and plunked himself into a chair. "Man," said George Carlin to those around him, "I was so loaded I forgot my act, couldn't remember a thing."
Not only was Carlin a brilliant humorist and a true man of the people, he was always dead honest. And no one could stop him from speaking what was on his mind. Or using his infamous "Seven Words." But for one night in Southern California a spliff from Maui froze his brains. The great growers of Haleakala, by way of a joint that passed through my hands, had managed to silence George Carlin, freak him out and make him forget where he was and what he was doing. That's as close as I ever got to the man. But I'm sure happy I had a part in warming his heart that time at Funky Quarters. We love you, George, and hope you're in the highest place of all.
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