California Slim

There are literary reminiscences that reek of self-congratulation over the authors’ proximity to famous movers and shakers. Andy Bernstein’s California Slim aspires to far more than that—and achieves it. Andy was there, at the onset of the post-’50s revolution that, as a beat poet once put it, roared as it ripped the threadbare fabric of an age. Andy was no distant, casual observer during the tumultuous ’60s and ’70s; he was at the heart of the maelstrom, and writes about it with candor, humor, and originality. The story begins, for God’s sake, with Andy and his then unknown banjo teacher, a young Jerry Garcia, fingerpicking in a back room at Dana Morgan’s Music Studio in Palo Alto in 1962. A skinny six-foot-seven-inch Jewish kid (later known as “California Slim”), Andy divided his time between the usual adolescent interests and music, for which he would go on to provide a capital M by promoting and staging concerts throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. His Palo Alto nightclub, Homer’s Warehouse, across the street from the Stanford University campus, brought revolutionary musicians (among them, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee) to young sensibilities hungry for new driving rhythms and thought-provoking lyrics. The early chapters of this book set the stage for Andy’s eventual hooking-up with Willie Nelson and his Family—which felt, Andy said, “like reading a really good book that I couldn’t put down.” That feeling led directly, if gradually, to California Slim. And you, dear reader, won’t be able to put it down, either. —Tony Compagno

There are literary reminiscences that reek of self-congratulation over the authors’ proximity to famous movers and shakers. Andy Bernstein’s California Slim aspires to far more than that—and achieves it. Andy was there, at the onset of the post-’50s revolution that, as a beat poet once put it, roared as it ripped the threadbare fabric of an age. Andy was no distant, casual observer during the tumultuous ’60s and ’70s; he was at the heart of the maelstrom, and writes about it with candor, humor, and originality. The story begins, for God’s sake, with Andy and his then unknown banjo teacher, a young Jerry Garcia, fingerpicking in a back room at Dana Morgan’s Music Studio in Palo Alto in 1962. A skinny six-foot-seven-inch Jewish kid (later known as “California Slim”), Andy divided his time between the usual adolescent interests and music, for which he would go on to provide a capital M by promoting and staging concerts throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. His Palo Alto nightclub, Homer’s Warehouse, across the street from the Stanford University campus, brought revolutionary musicians (among them, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee) to young sensibilities hungry for new driving rhythms and thought-provoking lyrics. The early chapters of this book set the stage for Andy’s eventual hooking-up with Willie Nelson and his Family—which felt, Andy said, “like reading a really good book that I couldn’t put down.” That feeling led directly, if gradually, to California Slim. And you, dear reader, won’t be able to put it down, either. —Tony Compagno

Set includes revised editions of some issues.

Poetry. Biker poet? The words don't seem to fit together. But, no so long ago, neither did cowboy poet. Biker poetry was originally meant to be recited and found its way into performance, or slam, poetry, with readings conducted at every major biker rally. Today, the biker poetry movement is alive and spreading quickly in print form, not only in the US, but all around the world.RUBBER SIDE DOWN provides a look inside this movement, not only through the poetry being written by its members, but also through contributions by established poets like Allen Ginsberg, Thom Gunn and Diana Wakoski; essays on the movement's history and evolution; and photography by noted motorcycle photographer Michael Lichter and others.