My daughter already knows the drug and music storys. I did not tell her these storys to impress her but to educate her to the drug scene as she proceeded into high school. I'm not proud of those decisions but I would not go back and change anything. It is a little unsettling to be publishing this story knowing that I will be a grandfather this year and I want my grandchild to think the best of me but being a grandparent offers the luxury of letting the parent deal with the issues of decipline, morality and grandfathers shortcomings. Trippin started early in the festival life style and the drunk part showed up with the bands. Some guy owned a small converted mail truck, (note: this is the fouth converted mail vehicle mentioned, they were big in the sixties, Bob even had one) and this guy had it set up like a fireworks stand but instead of fireworks it was a drugstand and instead of selling the drugs, they were freely distributed to the crew. Needed some smoke, just ask. Needed some speed to stay up and work through the night, here tis. The little truck made the rounds kind of like a Snack Truck at a construction site. This guy was being compensated by someone but we never asked who, we just took advantage of it. I remember by the second day of the festival we could not leave the grounds because of the size of the crowd. We were out of cigarettes but had no way to go get them. We ended up going to the little truck, stocking up on drugs and then venturing into the crowd to trade for ciggys, shirts, whatever. Getting drunk, for me, happened when Janis Joplin got there. She had a thing for Southern Comfort and liked to share it . . . she was very well stocked. She drank and passed the bottle before, during and after her set. After she left the stage instead of heading for some personal entourage she headed for the campfires backstage. As I ran errands from the Stage I would see her at this campfire or that campfire every trip. She was just hangin' with the crew, getting shitfaced and loving every minute of it. By the time the last band played that night and we had secured the stage for the evening Randy and I found her at a campfire near the stage with some of the crew and a couple of guys from Canned Heat drinking and smoking away. Bob "Bear" Hite was the big rotund singer for Canned Heat and he was arguing the merits of pot over booze with Janis. Randy and I walked up on this one sided arguement and sat down. Randy had never been around drugs and had successfully navigated around them during the festival up to this point. Bob Hite changed all of that, Bob was one of Randys idols and when Bob offered a toke, we all toked, when Janis offered a swig we all swigged. This went on for some time. I don't know if I was drunk or stoned but I was screwed up. The next morning my head told me I was more drunk than stoned. Anyway from that night on, Randy was no longer known as Randy. He was Christened 'Bear' by the other Bear, Bob Hite. To this day that is what we know him by when we tell storys of those days. Subsequent festivals had ways of distributing recreational and work drugs but the little truck was the best. He had everything but the little tinkling song playing as he drove around. Man Gets Bus