August 11, 2022 • 30 mins
Ron “Pigpen” McKernan’s lifelong devotion to drinking wasn’t the cause of his medical issues – chalk those up to a genetic disease. But no matter how he tried, Pig couldn’t kick the illness, he couldn’t repair the damage that had been done. He played music, followed his diet, and hoped against all hope that something would turn around. But nothing ever really did. He could never quite get up that hill. And just as Pig had slowly departed from the Dead, he was now slowly departing from the world.
Sources:
A Long Strange Trip: The Inside Story of the Grateful Dead, by Dennis McNally
Searching for the Sound, by Phil Lesh
Death Don't Have No Mercy: Pigpen, Ten Years Gone (Relix)
Pigpen Forever: The Life and Times of Ron McKernan, by Blair Jackson
Grateful Dead's Bob Weir and Phil Lesh reflect on bandmate Pigpen (Marin Independent Journal)
Grateful Dead Guide: Pigpen Solo (Dead Essays)
Greatest Stories Ever Told - "Stella Blue" (Dead.net)
Unsolicited Endorsement: Wake of the Flood by the Grateful Dead (Triad City Beat)
Jerry Garcia’s final show (YouTube)
So Many Roads: Remembering Jerry Garcia's Last Grateful Dead Show (Classic Rockers)
Listen to Grateful Dead perform 'Box of Rain' as their final encore before Jerry Garcia's death (Far Out)
"It was the tour from hell": Inside the Grateful Dead's last shows, and Jerry Garcia's final days (Salon)
Bruce Hornsby Looks Back on Jerry Garcia's Last Days: 'I Miss Him So Much' (Rolling Stone)
A Grateful Dead Analysis: The relationship between concert and listening behavior (First Monday)
Grateful Dead Guide: Pigpen Solo (Dead Essays)
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Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse and many more musical icons all died at the age of 27. Scandalous, tortured, dramatic, and incredibly talented,
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Double Elvis Club is a production of I Heart Radio
and Double Elvis. Ron Pigpen McKernan died at the age
of and he lived a life that required cosmic karmic
intervention to bring it to an end. And I can
give you twenty seven reasons why that statement is true.
(00:28):
Three would be the number of eventful hospital stays he'd have,
not from his lifelong devotion to drinking, but due to
a genetic disease. Another two would be the number of
years he'd give up his favorite pastime in an attempt
to reverse the damage of that disease. Four more would
be the number of days he'd be gone before the
dead would pay tribute to him in an unlikely way
(00:50):
by partaking in that favorite Pigpen pastime and drinking too
much at his wake. Another four would be the number
of players who would do their best to fill the
void pig left. Ten more would be the number of
years that would pass from the time Ron McKernin and
Jerry Garcia first formed a musical bond to the day
that the first of them would shuffle off this mortal coil.
(01:14):
And four would be the number of dead members who
would continue to wave that flag after Jerry followed pig
into the dark of night, all totally on this our
final episode of season five, eventful hospital stays reversing the damage,
filling the void in Ron pig Pen, McKernan, Um, Jake Brennan,
(01:38):
and this is the cloth. The phone was buzzy. It
(02:29):
shook violently on the hook, its shrill ring echoing off
the walls. The two women sitting across from each other
at the desk exchanged a long look, and the phone
buzzed again, and they knew who was calling. He called
most days, but one of the women's side, and finally
picked it up. Hello, Hey, pig. About fifteen miles north
(02:51):
of San Francisco. On the other side of that line,
pig Pen sat in half empty apartment in quarter Madera,
his patented cowboy hat covering his black hair. He had
started to make a habit out of calling the grateful
dead San Francisco offices about nothing in particular, just the chat.
In between drags of a cigarette. He asked how things
were going over there, what they're up to today? Mundane
(03:15):
everyday conversation. But that mundane everyday conversation was like medicine
for pick after a lengthy stay at the hospital in Nevado,
he went home to poo Alto, and after a handful
of weeks under the care of his parents, he was
back to his own place. Being alone was starting to
get to him. The rest of the dead had visited
(03:36):
Pig at his apartment, but now they had gone on tour,
and he hadn't seen any of his musical comrades for
more than a month, and the only person he'd ever
seen at home was the medical staff who came to
check on him, and occasionally his landlady. Maybe two or
three times a week he'd hopped in his forward Cortina
and cruise over to a friend's house, or making in
person visit to the office is just to break up
(03:57):
the day. But besides that, he had just been gathering
dust while the dead were out of town, and still
the calls to the Dead's office became a way to
tether himself to the world. And although Pig had nursed
his girl V back to Hell after she had a stroke,
V would not be returning the favor Pig had sent
her away. He didn't want her around, not when he
(04:19):
looked like this. The romance had had survived all of
Pigs travels on the road, and his raucous lifestyle was
officially over. The other half of his heart was out
there on the road, somewhere in the United States, touring
playing the tunes he once banged out night after night
on his organ, and there wasn't much the cure pigs blues.
He couldn't drink, and the only thing he cared to
(04:41):
smoke were cigarettes, but they didn't drive out the feeling
gnawing at his bones, an overwhelming sensation of loneliness. There
was really only one thing he could do when he
felt like this. Keep coughed as he pulled himself out
of bed, straining with each little movement as he tried
to keep himself moving, keep himself working towards something. He
(05:02):
picked up an acoustic guitar and moved to a chair
at a small table with a tape recorder. His bony
body lurched over it, and he ashed his cigarette and
pressed record. Pig strummed his guitar, and the vibrations and
the strings ricocheted through his weakened body like a buckshot.
He clenched the neck of the acoustic and steadied himself.
The pain throughout his body was still ruthless, but the
(05:25):
music somehow seemed to help. As the warm hum of
the tapes spun along, Pig began to pick out notes,
and then his voice found the melody. Words and music
he had written that he had been working on for
quite some time, and they felt different when he wrote
the months ago, but now, in this moment, they felt
more honest, pain, weakness, a broken heart, Pig and long
(05:48):
process these topics through others words Robert Hunter otis writing
Lightning Hopkins, but these words, these were his, This is
how he felt. The words echoed throughout the hollow apartment
and onto the tape, and they were both urgent and
had a narrave acceptance, and the words of a man
who knew the other side wasn't so far off that
(06:09):
the great mystery of life would be answered shortly. And
the music was intended for an album. Bob and Jerry
had made their own records, and both had been insisting
it was Pigs turn. Maybe, but maybe the tunes could
just be on the next dead record. Either way, Pig
just longed to get back to work. He wasn't bowing out,
not yet. Even with his current medical status, he was
(06:30):
still certain he'd get back on the road, back in
the studio, his doctors who just had to clear it.
For the past decade, Pig had done what his idols
had done. He lived the life the way they did.
He lived life in the moment. The future was just
something out in the distance, a foreign concept. But the
future inevitably arrived and his body couldn't keep up. It
(06:52):
spoke to Pig by shutting down time after time, begging
him to stop, time after time, putting him back in
the hospital, and time after time, Pig gave it just
enough TLC to get himself back on the road or
into the studio. But now he had to be extra careful.
Pig was watching all his levels, charting everything he ate,
(07:14):
following his doctor's orders, and paying close attention to what
was being asked of him medically. His fridge and freezer
are no longer full of beer or liquor. We're stuffed
with very specific meals. Gone or the days of thunderbird bourbon,
cheap barbecue and sausages. Pig and cut his teeth on
blues clubs and booze for the past fifteen years. From
(07:34):
the moment he woke up to the moment he passed out,
Pig lived his life authentically hard, drinking long hours on
stage or in the studio, constant travel constantly working, and
doing anything necessary to get by. If there was any
possibility of making it back on the road, back to
playing music with his brothers, Pig would do anything it took,
(07:56):
even if that meant completely changing his lifestyle. And they
had indeed felt like they were turning around. The traveling
was hard on his body, sure, but there wasn't about
the traveling. Hell, it wasn't even about playing the audiences.
Pig just wanted to make music with his friends, the
same way he had been for the last decade. He
sung the last bars of his solemn tune and stop
(08:17):
the tape recorder. He found his way to a window
and lit up another cigarette, and the sun shone brilliantly outside,
and Pig wanted nothing more than once again be part
of the world. He followed this routine throughout the month
of January nineteen seventy three, and did the same for February.
Nothing changed in everything changed. No matter how he tried,
(08:37):
Pig couldn't kick the illness. He couldn't repair the damage
that had been done. He played music, followed his diet
and hoped against all hope that something would turn around,
but nothing ever really did. He could never quite get
up that hell, and just as Pig had slowly departed
from the dead, he was now slowly departing from the world.
(08:58):
His car left the garage less and less until it
stopped leaving altogether. He called down to the Dead's offices
again and requested that his organ be brought up to
the house. He was glad to see the few members
of the Dead family that delivered it, and greeted them
as he always did, with great warmth and a big smile.
It seemed like a good sign. To the best knowledge
(09:20):
of the Dead and the rest of their organization, their
brother was getting better. Pig didn't let on how bad
things actually were. He didn't let on about any paint
at all. He didn't want them to feel uncomfortable. Pig's
organ was the only thing that kept him company for
the next few days. On March eight, Vree, pig Pen's landlady,
happened by the apartment and figured she would stop in
(09:40):
and see how pig Pen was doing. His mailbox was
stuffed with letters. She looked through the front window and
could see a body laying on its side, Pigpen's body.
That day he was pronounced dead. He was twenty seven
years old. Even though Pigpen had been sick on and
off against two years, his death still came as a shock.
(10:04):
It wasn't even the drinking that got him. It was
a genetic disease. It seemed cruel. The original inspiration for
the Grateful dead. Their heart and soul was dead and gone.
(10:47):
Jerry Garcia was anxiously tapping his foot. The cold beer
in his hand shook ever so slightly. It was over
all of it, the grateful Dad, as he knew it
and as the world knew it done. The knot his
chest started to tighten up again. He took a deep
breath and tipped back his beer. He couldn't remember how
(11:08):
many he'd had at this point. He lost track an
hour ago. All he knew was said. It was more
than he was accustomed to. The cold brew cut through
the searing pain. But then his head began to swim
and the alcohol was slowly taking over. It made him
think of so many things, and the way the floor
smelled during the dead sets in ruined Paol alto the
(11:30):
music car on the festival express cross continental train ride.
They all got hammered there, but mostly it made him
think of his friend. His friend for whom the cold
drink in his hand had held so much importance. His
friend who helped him create the band to which he
would dedicate most of his life. His friend whom he believed,
even given his lifestyle, would be by his side forever.
(11:51):
And that friend was now on the other side. He'd
been given a front row seat to the great Gig
in the sky, but he was up there all alone.
That last thought, or Jerry a bit Pig was doing
it alone, just like he passed away in his apartment alone.
A short while before that, Pig had come down to
the Dead's rehearsal space. He was in no shape to play,
(12:14):
but he wanted a photo with the band, his final
photo with the band. The other band members brushed it off,
and they were too busy. Fuck. The regrets sent Jerry's
tight chest into overdrive. Now they never get a chance
to take another photo with their friend. Jerry was destroyed,
as were the rest of the dead and their extended family.
(12:34):
They were each informed by an unexpected phone call or
an impersonal newspaper article. There was no final goodbye. No
holding Pig's hand at the hospital, no long battle for
which they could offer their support. Pig had been up
and down, but even when things seemed fatal, he always
bounced back, and the Dead believed he would once again
sit behind that organ and come up to the mic
(12:54):
and turn the show into a revival. He seemed so
optimistic the last few times he'd been around the group.
They were wrong. There would be no revival. Although Pig
hadn't been a fully functioning member of the band for
more than a year and hadn't played a show with
the band in almost nine months. Although the group had
gone directions that far outreached anything pig Pen was capable
(13:14):
of from a musical standpoint, and although he had been
holding on for dear life for years now, constantly adjusting
to suit the needs of the band, the Dead didn't
seem like the dead without him. His death still left
an immeasurably large black hole. It wasn't just about the
music for the Dead, this was their brother. He'd been
there since day one. It might have been the alcohol talking,
(13:37):
but Jerry wanted to end the group then and there.
The life force of Pigs sustained something very precious and
important in the dead's energy and without any thought, and
they were something else entirely. They weren't even the grateful dead.
But musing upon the funeral of the band was not
what the evening was about. They had a real funeral
(13:58):
to attend. The next day, the dead and their extended
family had gathered just a few miles from the place
of pigs Demise at Bob Weir's new house in Mill
Valley for a wake to send their friend and brother
off in a way that he would have approved of.
This wasn't just some stuffy hall or church. They were
out under the stars that pig now danced amongst. They
(14:18):
were surrounded by cases of ice cold beer and several
grills roasting all types of beef and birds, a meal
that their brother in arms would have undoubtedly approved of.
Bob's house, which may have been able to hold fifty
people tops was flooded packed will to wall with hundreds
of visitors. The crowd of Pigpen admirers had now spilled
out into the backyard. Jerry looked around the yard and
(14:41):
he quietly studied the familiar faces that were gathered. Their
emotions ranged from Malaysian to devastation, all sharing stories and
smiles about their dear friend. It was clear the Pig's
impact went beyond music. Then he meant something special and
different to every single person he met, and they did
their best to try and under stand the tragic loss
of a friend. And the music Pig loved was older,
(15:03):
but he was young, too young, and it seems unfair.
Jerry's chest started to get tight again. He wondered if
he could have done something, something different, something more, something
to prevent the pain they were all experiencing. At this moment,
Pig's father sent the Dead's entire organization a letter when
he had heard the news. He told him it wasn't
their fault, that there was nothing they could have done. Still,
(15:26):
Jerry couldn't help but feel that nagging guilt, but inevitably
falls a death like this. It was as if the
universe had conspired against him. As the dead star arose,
Pigs faded and now here they were at their creative
and commercial peak and he was gone. Nothing was going
to bring him back. Jerry moved to a nearby cooler
and picked up another beer. He closed his eyes for
(15:48):
a moment and listened to the tunes that emanated from
a nearby stereo. He grinned. The cosmic irony of Pig's
death now saw the band drinking heavily after pig spent
months abstaining ship it, and they were the ones who
were always trying to get Pig to take some acid.
He didn't have to go and die to get the
house some booze. It was a habit they take up
in turns for the next three decades. It's seemed the
(16:10):
only fitting way to send him off. A requiem for Pigpen.
The next morning, members of the Grateful Dead's extended family
in Pigpen's biological family, gathered for a more traditional funeral
out of mortuary. The duality of the wake and the
funeral represented the duality of pig the scruffy guy dressed
like a Hell's angel and who loved to party, was
(16:31):
at his core a caring, compassionate soul. That compassionate soul
was returned to the infinite ether and his body laid
in a casket. The dead made their way pass, saying
their final couldbyas in his final outfit, Pigpen looked as
he ever did. His family chose to bury him in
his leather vest and a brown collared shirt with his
cowboy hat carefully placed on a pillow next to his head.
(16:55):
Pigs family, as authentic as he was, knew that the
last thing Pigpen would have wanted to be buried in
was a three piece suit. They honored their son as
he was. Just days after the band said their final goodbyes,
they were back on the road for a month to
play a series of shows on the East Coast. Even
though they hadn't had Pigpen on stage for almost a year,
(17:15):
things still felt different. They all knew they would feel
different forever. A few months later, when The Dead finally
returned to the recording studio to deliver their first new
materials since American Beauty, their first studio album ever without
Pigpen as a member of the band. The songs were
already well established parts of the Dead Slave Show, and
those songs became Wake of the Flood, and these songs
(17:38):
were different. Though the Dead were once again steering their
ship to new territory, shedding the Americana influenced tunes from
their previous two albums. The songs were a combination of jazz,
R and B and reggae influences. Wake of the flood
represented the state of the band, once again reaching into
the universe for something new, and if the Grateful Dead
(18:01):
We're never going to be the same again, then the
music may as well change to One song in particular,
Stella Blue, was first played live at Pig's final concert.
Stella Blue told the story of the musician at the
end of a long downward spiral, finding his dreams to
be broken in the streets, he walked on to be lonely.
Although the song was written before pigs Demise, it perfectly
(18:24):
summarized his last few years on earth, and though the
lyrics spoke of pain, they also spoke of hope and
redemption and the opportunity to once again shine. Pig pens
light continue to shine to the prison of the Grateful
Dead's music. Through that dream they all dreamed, through that
original fire. It's still burned and always would. We'll be
(18:49):
right back after this word, word word, Jerry Garcia struggled
up the stairs to the stage. He placed one foot
in front of the other, slowly, deliberately, like a long
distance runner, with one foot out the door. He exhaled
(19:10):
as he hit the top step and then took a
deep breath filling his lungs with the warm summer breeze
that blew through Soldier Field. They're also blew through Jerry's
beard as he stepped to the microphone kind of tickled.
The crowd let on an emphatic cheer as the ringleader
of the Grateful Dead stepped to the center of the ring.
They had just been treated to an inspired set from
(19:30):
the band, who had undergone a resurgence of sorts over
the last few years, returning to the stage more reliably
after years of sporadic gigs due to a legal dispute.
They were without their guitarist and lead songwriter, not to
mention their drummer's foil, Robbie Robertson sons Robbie. The band
were missing one vital original member, but no matter how
tired or old the rest of them felt, they were
(19:52):
all together. The Grateful Dead could say the same. It
was July, and the men who were once young were
now growing older. But this silver lining now had much
more than just a touch of gray. Jerry was still there,
as was Bob phil and Billy Mickey was there too,
having returned in nineteen seventy five and remained in the
(20:13):
lineup ever since, but the door that led to the
piano bench kept revolving. First keyboardist Keith gott Show left
the band in nineteen seventy nine, taking his wife Donna
with him. He died in a car crash. The next year.
His replacement, Brent Midland, overdosed on a speedball in Bruce
Hornsby did a quick stint on the keys, but he
(20:35):
eventually left too, and the new man at the keyboard
was Vince well Nick. Jerry looked over at Vince and
all I could think about was pig pan. The old
memories blended together into some cosmic day dream as they
became more distant. In the crowd of forty thousand cheered
behind Jerry, the rest of the Dead We're kicking into
Touch of Gray, the highest charting song of the band's
(20:56):
long and storied career. The hair piled on Jerry's head
and his line a man of a beard, shared much
more than a touch. It was snow white like some
hippie Santa Claus. Jerry's singing was reserved, delicate and weak.
The Dead pressed through the opening tunes, still finding their footing.
This wasn't an uncommon occurrence over the last handful of years,
(21:17):
decades of touring with very little by the way of breaks,
a whole bunch of smoking, over eating, and one hell
of a smack habit had caught up to Jerry. He'd
been battling health issues since the beginning of the tour.
It didn't help that the heroine he had once kicked
had slowly worked its way back into his life. The
rest of the group may have acted like they were
in the dark when it came to Jerry's health issues,
but like Pigpen before, in reality, shock and denial kept
(21:40):
them from comprehending how bad it was. Getting. On top
of that, the entire tour it in a mess and
oversold venue in Vermont, dead Head struck by lightning in Washington,
d C. A death threat called in on Jerry and Indiana.
Two fans died in St. Louis and another hundred and
eight were injured when infrastructure collapsed at a nearby camping
air ran. But no matter how bad their luck, the
(22:02):
fans that lovingly called themselves dead Heads continued to show up,
continued to contribute to the experience, and continued to get
the band energy to feed off. Of thirty years and
thousands of concerts had built the most loyal fan base
in the music industry, many of which regularly attended one
hundred plus shows. Going to a Dead show was no
(22:23):
longer just an experience. It meant you were becoming part
of a community, and that community lifted the group up
and gave them power. Jerry Garcia fed off of it.
After a slow start to the show, he began to
gather strength, using the music and the vibrations to push through.
Just like pig Pen. It pushed through towards the end,
and like pig Pen, tactic produced moments of brilliance for
(22:46):
Jerry during the show, including our heart wrenching rendition of
so many Roads for Jerry. Though this would be the
end of the road, The Grateful Dead finished the final
show of that summer tour with an encore of Box
of Rain. They left the stage, never to return in
the same form again. Such a short time to be there,
(23:09):
in such a long long time to be gone. Jerry
had been heading for a crash for some time. He
had struggled through the tour, his energy seemed exhausted. He
checked himself into betty Ford Rehabilitation and, thinking it had
successfully kicked the habit checked himself out after two weeks,
just in time for the fifty third birthday. He soon
realized he hadn't quite completed the turnaround and checked himself
(23:31):
into yet another facility. A few days later, a heart
attack ended his life. Jerry's end also meant the end
of the Dead, at least the version of the band
that didn't have John Mayron. Like Pig, Jerry had hung
on for as long as he could. Like Pig, Jerry
battled through anything and everything to remain with the group
he loved. And just like Pig, the end of the
(23:53):
line came. No matter what Jerry tried, the pattern repeated itself,
and this time it left the Grateful Dead doubly devastated.
Both Pig Pen and Jerry Garcia gone meant the soul
and the mind of the group had returned to the cosmos. Bob, Phil, Billy,
and Mickey continued to play together in various iterations, and
(24:14):
they played the songs that Jerry and Pig has sung,
the songs that they poured their hearts into every night,
the songs that we had used to commune with each other.
They would change given the mood of a certain member
of the group, that could provide levity, heartbreak, and transcendence,
but it would never be quite the same. The dream
that had begun in Dana Morgan's music store all those
years ago, with the nine fingered warlock and the skinny
(24:35):
kid with the bombless energy, and the rough and rowdy
blues man clad in biker gear with a heart of gold,
had been fulfilled many times over, with many triumphs along
the way, and it was now just a memory. Jerry
Garcia would finally see what was waiting on the other side.
He would finally be reunited with his friend and brother.
Their journey through time and space had come full circle.
(25:24):
The walls were shaking inside the small pizza parlor. The
room was packed with a college students, local heads, underage
kids looking for kicks, all seated long tables. You're pushed
up tight against the walls. From the far corner, an
electrifying version of Holland Wolves, the Little Red Rooster was
blaring out over the crowd. Harmonica solo rang out over
(25:44):
the guitars and driving drums. They buzzed with grace, authenticity,
and attitude, and the band was so loose but so good.
They laughed at each other as they riffed out, verse
out to verse of chords. The harmonica player danced on
top of it all, and they were delirious, beyond happy
to turn up. It was their third gig, ever, third gig,
(26:05):
and they had played the same venue a few nights before.
The nearly an empty room. The second night crowd is
a little thicker, but now the place was filled to
the brim. In fact, there were even kids dancing outside,
and the validation felt good, not that it mattered. The
music was the real trip. As the song came to
an end, the crowd hollered, and the harmonica players sluck
(26:26):
down the remainder of the beer and stepped to the microphone.
He grinned out of the faces that surrounded him, and
then he declared to each and every one of them
that he was not just another person. He was, in fact,
a king being. The band kicked in with some old
slim harpo, again hard driving blues music. The harmonica player
(26:46):
turned front man started around while laying down a slurred,
soulful delivery. His raw vocal matched its unkempt appearance. The
whole thing was rough around the edges and there was
no putting on airs. The crowd of magoose pizza couldn't help,
but they were entranced by the kid in the leather
vest with the jet black hair, half drunk, completely lost
in the music. It was magnetic. Just a few years later,
(27:10):
the Grateful Dead would become one of the most well
known groups in the world, and pig Pen would no
longer be crooning slim harpow covers to a dimly lit,
greasy pizza giant. He would sing to the masses at
hockey arenas, auditoriums, and outdoor festivals down each and every
road pig Pen travel. However, he would remain true to
his original dream of playing the blues for a living.
(27:32):
He'd empty a bottle each and every day until it
endangered his life. He'd create music that could touch the
deepest emotional strings of the human heart. He endeared himself
to each and every person he had met, and even
through the phases of pop, psychedelia, Americana, jazz, and a
host of other musical genre pretzels that Dead would twist
themselves into, pig Pen never lost the plot. He never
(27:52):
lost the original inspiration and energy that he had helped
cultivate from the Dusty Powell Auto to a mind altering
San Francisco, all around the United States, to Europe and beyond,
pig pens raw energy was always there, in person or
in spirit. No matter what direction the band went in,
he remained steadfast and loyal to the idea of the
(28:13):
Dead playing music together. A cold beer, hot mic, and
the sweet, beautiful music he made with the boys would
be all pig Ever wanted. It was the only way
you knew how to live his life, and he'd follow
that inclination with zeal, passion, and authenticity until the wheels
came off, and the wheels did come off eight years
after that night at Magoose, pig Pen would be gone forever.
(28:37):
The band continued to push forward in the same manner,
with the same singular focus to the music. They lost
more brothers in arms, but they never lost that original fire.
The one picks someone in the pizza giant in Paul Alto,
the same one picks someone the club stadiums, in the
recording studio. The Dead's music would always reflect pigs calm demeanor,
blowing in like an easy wind, the warm summer breezes,
(29:00):
the kaleidoscope of brilliant colors and soft Pastel's Pig's music
felt comfortable and familiar, like sitting on a barstool next
to an old friend. Pig Pen was everybody's old friend,
and he was gone too soon. The life as he
lived would continue to color the thoughts, minds, and music
of Lozy held close forever as the stone above his
(29:21):
resting place at the Alta Mason Memorial Park of Paulato reads,
pig Pen was and is now forever one of the
grateful Dead. I'm Jake Brennan and this is the twenty
seven Club. The Club is hosted and produced by me
(29:50):
Jake Brennan for Double Elvis in partnership with I Heart Radio.
Zeth Lundie is the lead writer and co producer. This
episode was mixed by Joel Edinburgh. Additional music and score
elements by Ryan Spraaker and Henry Luneta. This episode was
written by Ted Oma, story and copy ending by Pat Healy.
Sources for this episode are available at Double Elvis dot
(30:13):
com on the twenty seven Club series page, talk to
me on Social act disgrace Land pod, and hang out
with me live on my Twitch channel disgrace Land Talks.
For more news on your favorite podcast, follow at Double
Elvis on Instagram rocar ROLLA, what up here is
Double Elvis Club is a production of I Heart Radio
and Double Elvis. Ron Pigpen McKernan died at the age
of and he lived a life that required cosmic karmic
intervention to bring it to an end. And I can
give you twenty seven reasons why that statement is true.
(00:28):
Three would be the number of eventful hospital stays he'd have,
not from his lifelong devotion to drinking, but due to
a genetic disease. Another two would be the number of
years he'd give up his favorite pastime in an attempt
to reverse the damage of that disease. Four more would
be the number of days he'd be gone before the
dead would pay tribute to him in an unlikely way
(00:50):
by partaking in that favorite Pigpen pastime and drinking too
much at his wake. Another four would be the number
of players who would do their best to fill the
void pig left. Ten more would be the number of
years that would pass from the time Ron McKernin and
Jerry Garcia first formed a musical bond to the day
that the first of them would shuffle off this mortal coil.
(01:14):
And four would be the number of dead members who
would continue to wave that flag after Jerry followed pig
into the dark of night, all totally on this our
final episode of season five, eventful hospital stays reversing the damage,
filling the void in Ron pig Pen, McKernan, Um, Jake Brennan,
(01:38):
and this is the cloth. The phone was buzzy. It
(02:29):
shook violently on the hook, its shrill ring echoing off
the walls. The two women sitting across from each other
at the desk exchanged a long look, and the phone
buzzed again, and they knew who was calling. He called
most days, but one of the women's side, and finally
picked it up. Hello, Hey, pig. About fifteen miles north
(02:51):
of San Francisco. On the other side of that line,
pig Pen sat in half empty apartment in quarter Madera,
his patented cowboy hat covering his black hair. He had
started to make a habit out of calling the grateful
dead San Francisco offices about nothing in particular, just the chat.
In between drags of a cigarette. He asked how things
were going over there, what they're up to today? Mundane
(03:15):
everyday conversation. But that mundane everyday conversation was like medicine
for pick after a lengthy stay at the hospital in Nevado,
he went home to poo Alto, and after a handful
of weeks under the care of his parents, he was
back to his own place. Being alone was starting to
get to him. The rest of the dead had visited
(03:36):
Pig at his apartment, but now they had gone on tour,
and he hadn't seen any of his musical comrades for
more than a month, and the only person he'd ever
seen at home was the medical staff who came to
check on him, and occasionally his landlady. Maybe two or
three times a week he'd hopped in his forward Cortina
and cruise over to a friend's house, or making in
person visit to the office is just to break up
(03:57):
the day. But besides that, he had just been gathering
dust while the dead were out of town, and still
the calls to the Dead's office became a way to
tether himself to the world. And although Pig had nursed
his girl V back to Hell after she had a stroke,
V would not be returning the favor Pig had sent
her away. He didn't want her around, not when he
(04:19):
looked like this. The romance had had survived all of
Pigs travels on the road, and his raucous lifestyle was
officially over. The other half of his heart was out
there on the road, somewhere in the United States, touring
playing the tunes he once banged out night after night
on his organ, and there wasn't much the cure pigs blues.
He couldn't drink, and the only thing he cared to
(04:41):
smoke were cigarettes, but they didn't drive out the feeling
gnawing at his bones, an overwhelming sensation of loneliness. There
was really only one thing he could do when he
felt like this. Keep coughed as he pulled himself out
of bed, straining with each little movement as he tried
to keep himself moving, keep himself working towards something. He
(05:02):
picked up an acoustic guitar and moved to a chair
at a small table with a tape recorder. His bony
body lurched over it, and he ashed his cigarette and
pressed record. Pig strummed his guitar, and the vibrations and
the strings ricocheted through his weakened body like a buckshot.
He clenched the neck of the acoustic and steadied himself.
The pain throughout his body was still ruthless, but the
(05:25):
music somehow seemed to help. As the warm hum of
the tapes spun along, Pig began to pick out notes,
and then his voice found the melody. Words and music
he had written that he had been working on for
quite some time, and they felt different when he wrote
the months ago, but now, in this moment, they felt
more honest, pain, weakness, a broken heart, Pig and long
(05:48):
process these topics through others words Robert Hunter otis writing
Lightning Hopkins, but these words, these were his, This is
how he felt. The words echoed throughout the hollow apartment
and onto the tape, and they were both urgent and
had a narrave acceptance, and the words of a man
who knew the other side wasn't so far off that
(06:09):
the great mystery of life would be answered shortly. And
the music was intended for an album. Bob and Jerry
had made their own records, and both had been insisting
it was Pigs turn. Maybe, but maybe the tunes could
just be on the next dead record. Either way, Pig
just longed to get back to work. He wasn't bowing out,
not yet. Even with his current medical status, he was
(06:30):
still certain he'd get back on the road, back in
the studio, his doctors who just had to clear it.
For the past decade, Pig had done what his idols
had done. He lived the life the way they did.
He lived life in the moment. The future was just
something out in the distance, a foreign concept. But the
future inevitably arrived and his body couldn't keep up. It
(06:52):
spoke to Pig by shutting down time after time, begging
him to stop, time after time, putting him back in
the hospital, and time after time, Pig gave it just
enough TLC to get himself back on the road or
into the studio. But now he had to be extra careful.
Pig was watching all his levels, charting everything he ate,
(07:14):
following his doctor's orders, and paying close attention to what
was being asked of him medically. His fridge and freezer
are no longer full of beer or liquor. We're stuffed
with very specific meals. Gone or the days of thunderbird bourbon,
cheap barbecue and sausages. Pig and cut his teeth on
blues clubs and booze for the past fifteen years. From
(07:34):
the moment he woke up to the moment he passed out,
Pig lived his life authentically hard, drinking long hours on
stage or in the studio, constant travel constantly working, and
doing anything necessary to get by. If there was any
possibility of making it back on the road, back to
playing music with his brothers, Pig would do anything it took,
(07:56):
even if that meant completely changing his lifestyle. And they
had indeed felt like they were turning around. The traveling
was hard on his body, sure, but there wasn't about
the traveling. Hell, it wasn't even about playing the audiences.
Pig just wanted to make music with his friends, the
same way he had been for the last decade. He
sung the last bars of his solemn tune and stop
(08:17):
the tape recorder. He found his way to a window
and lit up another cigarette, and the sun shone brilliantly outside,
and Pig wanted nothing more than once again be part
of the world. He followed this routine throughout the month
of January nineteen seventy three, and did the same for February.
Nothing changed in everything changed. No matter how he tried,
(08:37):
Pig couldn't kick the illness. He couldn't repair the damage
that had been done. He played music, followed his diet
and hoped against all hope that something would turn around,
but nothing ever really did. He could never quite get
up that hell, and just as Pig had slowly departed
from the dead, he was now slowly departing from the world.
(08:58):
His car left the garage less and less until it
stopped leaving altogether. He called down to the Dead's offices
again and requested that his organ be brought up to
the house. He was glad to see the few members
of the Dead family that delivered it, and greeted them
as he always did, with great warmth and a big smile.
It seemed like a good sign. To the best knowledge
(09:20):
of the Dead and the rest of their organization, their
brother was getting better. Pig didn't let on how bad
things actually were. He didn't let on about any paint
at all. He didn't want them to feel uncomfortable. Pig's
organ was the only thing that kept him company for
the next few days. On March eight, Vree, pig Pen's landlady,
happened by the apartment and figured she would stop in
(09:40):
and see how pig Pen was doing. His mailbox was
stuffed with letters. She looked through the front window and
could see a body laying on its side, Pigpen's body.
That day he was pronounced dead. He was twenty seven
years old. Even though Pigpen had been sick on and
off against two years, his death still came as a shock.
(10:04):
It wasn't even the drinking that got him. It was
a genetic disease. It seemed cruel. The original inspiration for
the Grateful dead. Their heart and soul was dead and gone.
(10:47):
Jerry Garcia was anxiously tapping his foot. The cold beer
in his hand shook ever so slightly. It was over
all of it, the grateful Dad, as he knew it
and as the world knew it done. The knot his
chest started to tighten up again. He took a deep
breath and tipped back his beer. He couldn't remember how
(11:08):
many he'd had at this point. He lost track an
hour ago. All he knew was said. It was more
than he was accustomed to. The cold brew cut through
the searing pain. But then his head began to swim
and the alcohol was slowly taking over. It made him
think of so many things, and the way the floor
smelled during the dead sets in ruined Paol alto the
(11:30):
music car on the festival express cross continental train ride.
They all got hammered there, but mostly it made him
think of his friend. His friend for whom the cold
drink in his hand had held so much importance. His
friend who helped him create the band to which he
would dedicate most of his life. His friend whom he believed,
even given his lifestyle, would be by his side forever.
(11:51):
And that friend was now on the other side. He'd
been given a front row seat to the great Gig
in the sky, but he was up there all alone.
That last thought, or Jerry a bit Pig was doing
it alone, just like he passed away in his apartment alone.
A short while before that, Pig had come down to
the Dead's rehearsal space. He was in no shape to play,
(12:14):
but he wanted a photo with the band, his final
photo with the band. The other band members brushed it off,
and they were too busy. Fuck. The regrets sent Jerry's
tight chest into overdrive. Now they never get a chance
to take another photo with their friend. Jerry was destroyed,
as were the rest of the dead and their extended family.
(12:34):
They were each informed by an unexpected phone call or
an impersonal newspaper article. There was no final goodbye. No
holding Pig's hand at the hospital, no long battle for
which they could offer their support. Pig had been up
and down, but even when things seemed fatal, he always
bounced back, and the Dead believed he would once again
sit behind that organ and come up to the mic
(12:54):
and turn the show into a revival. He seemed so
optimistic the last few times he'd been around the group.
They were wrong. There would be no revival. Although Pig
hadn't been a fully functioning member of the band for
more than a year and hadn't played a show with
the band in almost nine months. Although the group had
gone directions that far outreached anything pig Pen was capable
(13:14):
of from a musical standpoint, and although he had been
holding on for dear life for years now, constantly adjusting
to suit the needs of the band, the Dead didn't
seem like the dead without him. His death still left
an immeasurably large black hole. It wasn't just about the
music for the Dead, this was their brother. He'd been
there since day one. It might have been the alcohol talking,
(13:37):
but Jerry wanted to end the group then and there.
The life force of Pigs sustained something very precious and
important in the dead's energy and without any thought, and
they were something else entirely. They weren't even the grateful dead.
But musing upon the funeral of the band was not
what the evening was about. They had a real funeral
(13:58):
to attend. The next day, the dead and their extended
family had gathered just a few miles from the place
of pigs Demise at Bob Weir's new house in Mill
Valley for a wake to send their friend and brother
off in a way that he would have approved of.
This wasn't just some stuffy hall or church. They were
out under the stars that pig now danced amongst. They
(14:18):
were surrounded by cases of ice cold beer and several
grills roasting all types of beef and birds, a meal
that their brother in arms would have undoubtedly approved of.
Bob's house, which may have been able to hold fifty
people tops was flooded packed will to wall with hundreds
of visitors. The crowd of Pigpen admirers had now spilled
out into the backyard. Jerry looked around the yard and
(14:41):
he quietly studied the familiar faces that were gathered. Their
emotions ranged from Malaysian to devastation, all sharing stories and
smiles about their dear friend. It was clear the Pig's
impact went beyond music. Then he meant something special and
different to every single person he met, and they did
their best to try and under stand the tragic loss
of a friend. And the music Pig loved was older,
(15:03):
but he was young, too young, and it seems unfair.
Jerry's chest started to get tight again. He wondered if
he could have done something, something different, something more, something
to prevent the pain they were all experiencing. At this moment,
Pig's father sent the Dead's entire organization a letter when
he had heard the news. He told him it wasn't
their fault, that there was nothing they could have done. Still,
(15:26):
Jerry couldn't help but feel that nagging guilt, but inevitably
falls a death like this. It was as if the
universe had conspired against him. As the dead star arose,
Pigs faded and now here they were at their creative
and commercial peak and he was gone. Nothing was going
to bring him back. Jerry moved to a nearby cooler
and picked up another beer. He closed his eyes for
(15:48):
a moment and listened to the tunes that emanated from
a nearby stereo. He grinned. The cosmic irony of Pig's
death now saw the band drinking heavily after pig spent
months abstaining ship it, and they were the ones who
were always trying to get Pig to take some acid.
He didn't have to go and die to get the
house some booze. It was a habit they take up
in turns for the next three decades. It's seemed the
(16:10):
only fitting way to send him off. A requiem for Pigpen.
The next morning, members of the Grateful Dead's extended family
in Pigpen's biological family, gathered for a more traditional funeral
out of mortuary. The duality of the wake and the
funeral represented the duality of pig the scruffy guy dressed
like a Hell's angel and who loved to party, was
(16:31):
at his core a caring, compassionate soul. That compassionate soul
was returned to the infinite ether and his body laid
in a casket. The dead made their way pass, saying
their final couldbyas in his final outfit, Pigpen looked as
he ever did. His family chose to bury him in
his leather vest and a brown collared shirt with his
cowboy hat carefully placed on a pillow next to his head.
(16:55):
Pigs family, as authentic as he was, knew that the
last thing Pigpen would have wanted to be buried in
was a three piece suit. They honored their son as
he was. Just days after the band said their final goodbyes,
they were back on the road for a month to
play a series of shows on the East Coast. Even
though they hadn't had Pigpen on stage for almost a year,
(17:15):
things still felt different. They all knew they would feel
different forever. A few months later, when The Dead finally
returned to the recording studio to deliver their first new
materials since American Beauty, their first studio album ever without
Pigpen as a member of the band. The songs were
already well established parts of the Dead Slave Show, and
those songs became Wake of the Flood, and these songs
(17:38):
were different. Though the Dead were once again steering their
ship to new territory, shedding the Americana influenced tunes from
their previous two albums. The songs were a combination of jazz,
R and B and reggae influences. Wake of the flood
represented the state of the band, once again reaching into
the universe for something new, and if the Grateful Dead
(18:01):
We're never going to be the same again, then the
music may as well change to One song in particular,
Stella Blue, was first played live at Pig's final concert.
Stella Blue told the story of the musician at the
end of a long downward spiral, finding his dreams to
be broken in the streets, he walked on to be lonely.
Although the song was written before pigs Demise, it perfectly
(18:24):
summarized his last few years on earth, and though the
lyrics spoke of pain, they also spoke of hope and
redemption and the opportunity to once again shine. Pig pens
light continue to shine to the prison of the Grateful
Dead's music. Through that dream they all dreamed, through that
original fire. It's still burned and always would. We'll be
(18:49):
right back after this word, word word, Jerry Garcia struggled
up the stairs to the stage. He placed one foot
in front of the other, slowly, deliberately, like a long
distance runner, with one foot out the door. He exhaled
(19:10):
as he hit the top step and then took a
deep breath filling his lungs with the warm summer breeze
that blew through Soldier Field. They're also blew through Jerry's
beard as he stepped to the microphone kind of tickled.
The crowd let on an emphatic cheer as the ringleader
of the Grateful Dead stepped to the center of the ring.
They had just been treated to an inspired set from
(19:30):
the band, who had undergone a resurgence of sorts over
the last few years, returning to the stage more reliably
after years of sporadic gigs due to a legal dispute.
They were without their guitarist and lead songwriter, not to
mention their drummer's foil, Robbie Robertson sons Robbie. The band
were missing one vital original member, but no matter how
tired or old the rest of them felt, they were
(19:52):
all together. The Grateful Dead could say the same. It
was July, and the men who were once young were
now growing older. But this silver lining now had much
more than just a touch of gray. Jerry was still there,
as was Bob phil and Billy Mickey was there too,
having returned in nineteen seventy five and remained in the
(20:13):
lineup ever since, but the door that led to the
piano bench kept revolving. First keyboardist Keith gott Show left
the band in nineteen seventy nine, taking his wife Donna
with him. He died in a car crash. The next year.
His replacement, Brent Midland, overdosed on a speedball in Bruce
Hornsby did a quick stint on the keys, but he
(20:35):
eventually left too, and the new man at the keyboard
was Vince well Nick. Jerry looked over at Vince and
all I could think about was pig pan. The old
memories blended together into some cosmic day dream as they
became more distant. In the crowd of forty thousand cheered
behind Jerry, the rest of the Dead We're kicking into
Touch of Gray, the highest charting song of the band's
(20:56):
long and storied career. The hair piled on Jerry's head
and his line a man of a beard, shared much
more than a touch. It was snow white like some
hippie Santa Claus. Jerry's singing was reserved, delicate and weak.
The Dead pressed through the opening tunes, still finding their footing.
This wasn't an uncommon occurrence over the last handful of years,
(21:17):
decades of touring with very little by the way of breaks,
a whole bunch of smoking, over eating, and one hell
of a smack habit had caught up to Jerry. He'd
been battling health issues since the beginning of the tour.
It didn't help that the heroine he had once kicked
had slowly worked its way back into his life. The
rest of the group may have acted like they were
in the dark when it came to Jerry's health issues,
but like Pigpen before, in reality, shock and denial kept
(21:40):
them from comprehending how bad it was. Getting. On top
of that, the entire tour it in a mess and
oversold venue in Vermont, dead Head struck by lightning in Washington,
d C. A death threat called in on Jerry and Indiana.
Two fans died in St. Louis and another hundred and
eight were injured when infrastructure collapsed at a nearby camping
air ran. But no matter how bad their luck, the
(22:02):
fans that lovingly called themselves dead Heads continued to show up,
continued to contribute to the experience, and continued to get
the band energy to feed off. Of thirty years and
thousands of concerts had built the most loyal fan base
in the music industry, many of which regularly attended one
hundred plus shows. Going to a Dead show was no
(22:23):
longer just an experience. It meant you were becoming part
of a community, and that community lifted the group up
and gave them power. Jerry Garcia fed off of it.
After a slow start to the show, he began to
gather strength, using the music and the vibrations to push through.
Just like pig Pen. It pushed through towards the end,
and like pig Pen, tactic produced moments of brilliance for
(22:46):
Jerry during the show, including our heart wrenching rendition of
so many Roads for Jerry. Though this would be the
end of the road, The Grateful Dead finished the final
show of that summer tour with an encore of Box
of Rain. They left the stage, never to return in
the same form again. Such a short time to be there,
(23:09):
in such a long long time to be gone. Jerry
had been heading for a crash for some time. He
had struggled through the tour, his energy seemed exhausted. He
checked himself into betty Ford Rehabilitation and, thinking it had
successfully kicked the habit checked himself out after two weeks,
just in time for the fifty third birthday. He soon
realized he hadn't quite completed the turnaround and checked himself
(23:31):
into yet another facility. A few days later, a heart
attack ended his life. Jerry's end also meant the end
of the Dead, at least the version of the band
that didn't have John Mayron. Like Pig, Jerry had hung
on for as long as he could. Like Pig, Jerry
battled through anything and everything to remain with the group
he loved. And just like Pig, the end of the
(23:53):
line came. No matter what Jerry tried, the pattern repeated itself,
and this time it left the Grateful Dead doubly devastated.
Both Pig Pen and Jerry Garcia gone meant the soul
and the mind of the group had returned to the cosmos. Bob, Phil, Billy,
and Mickey continued to play together in various iterations, and
(24:14):
they played the songs that Jerry and Pig has sung,
the songs that they poured their hearts into every night,
the songs that we had used to commune with each other.
They would change given the mood of a certain member
of the group, that could provide levity, heartbreak, and transcendence,
but it would never be quite the same. The dream
that had begun in Dana Morgan's music store all those
years ago, with the nine fingered warlock and the skinny
(24:35):
kid with the bombless energy, and the rough and rowdy
blues man clad in biker gear with a heart of gold,
had been fulfilled many times over, with many triumphs along
the way, and it was now just a memory. Jerry
Garcia would finally see what was waiting on the other side.
He would finally be reunited with his friend and brother.
Their journey through time and space had come full circle.
(25:24):
The walls were shaking inside the small pizza parlor. The
room was packed with a college students, local heads, underage
kids looking for kicks, all seated long tables. You're pushed
up tight against the walls. From the far corner, an
electrifying version of Holland Wolves, the Little Red Rooster was
blaring out over the crowd. Harmonica solo rang out over
(25:44):
the guitars and driving drums. They buzzed with grace, authenticity,
and attitude, and the band was so loose but so good.
They laughed at each other as they riffed out, verse
out to verse of chords. The harmonica player danced on
top of it all, and they were delirious, beyond happy
to turn up. It was their third gig, ever, third gig,
(26:05):
and they had played the same venue a few nights before.
The nearly an empty room. The second night crowd is
a little thicker, but now the place was filled to
the brim. In fact, there were even kids dancing outside,
and the validation felt good, not that it mattered. The
music was the real trip. As the song came to
an end, the crowd hollered, and the harmonica players sluck
(26:26):
down the remainder of the beer and stepped to the microphone.
He grinned out of the faces that surrounded him, and
then he declared to each and every one of them
that he was not just another person. He was, in fact,
a king being. The band kicked in with some old
slim harpo, again hard driving blues music. The harmonica player
(26:46):
turned front man started around while laying down a slurred,
soulful delivery. His raw vocal matched its unkempt appearance. The
whole thing was rough around the edges and there was
no putting on airs. The crowd of magoose pizza couldn't help,
but they were entranced by the kid in the leather
vest with the jet black hair, half drunk, completely lost
in the music. It was magnetic. Just a few years later,
(27:10):
the Grateful Dead would become one of the most well
known groups in the world, and pig Pen would no
longer be crooning slim harpow covers to a dimly lit,
greasy pizza giant. He would sing to the masses at
hockey arenas, auditoriums, and outdoor festivals down each and every
road pig Pen travel. However, he would remain true to
his original dream of playing the blues for a living.
(27:32):
He'd empty a bottle each and every day until it
endangered his life. He'd create music that could touch the
deepest emotional strings of the human heart. He endeared himself
to each and every person he had met, and even
through the phases of pop, psychedelia, Americana, jazz, and a
host of other musical genre pretzels that Dead would twist
themselves into, pig Pen never lost the plot. He never
(27:52):
lost the original inspiration and energy that he had helped
cultivate from the Dusty Powell Auto to a mind altering
San Francisco, all around the United States, to Europe and beyond,
pig pens raw energy was always there, in person or
in spirit. No matter what direction the band went in,
he remained steadfast and loyal to the idea of the
(28:13):
Dead playing music together. A cold beer, hot mic, and
the sweet, beautiful music he made with the boys would
be all pig Ever wanted. It was the only way
you knew how to live his life, and he'd follow
that inclination with zeal, passion, and authenticity until the wheels
came off, and the wheels did come off eight years
after that night at Magoose, pig Pen would be gone forever.
(28:37):
The band continued to push forward in the same manner,
with the same singular focus to the music. They lost
more brothers in arms, but they never lost that original fire.
The one picks someone in the pizza giant in Paul Alto,
the same one picks someone the club stadiums, in the
recording studio. The Dead's music would always reflect pigs calm demeanor,
blowing in like an easy wind, the warm summer breezes,
(29:00):
the kaleidoscope of brilliant colors and soft Pastel's Pig's music
felt comfortable and familiar, like sitting on a barstool next
to an old friend. Pig Pen was everybody's old friend,
and he was gone too soon. The life as he
lived would continue to color the thoughts, minds, and music
of Lozy held close forever as the stone above his
(29:21):
resting place at the Alta Mason Memorial Park of Paulato reads,
pig Pen was and is now forever one of the
grateful Dead. I'm Jake Brennan and this is the twenty
seven Club. The Club is hosted and produced by me
(29:50):
Jake Brennan for Double Elvis in partnership with I Heart Radio.
Zeth Lundie is the lead writer and co producer. This
episode was mixed by Joel Edinburgh. Additional music and score
elements by Ryan Spraaker and Henry Luneta. This episode was
written by Ted Oma, story and copy ending by Pat Healy.
Sources for this episode are available at Double Elvis dot
(30:13):
com on the twenty seven Club series page, talk to
me on Social act disgrace Land pod, and hang out
with me live on my Twitch channel disgrace Land Talks.
For more news on your favorite podcast, follow at Double
Elvis on Instagram rocar ROLLA, what up here is
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Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations.
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If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
The Nikki Glaser Podcast
Every week comedian and infamous roaster Nikki Glaser provides a fun, fast-paced, and brutally honest look into current pop-culture and her own personal life.