Bob Harvey

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I CAN’T HELP IT IF I SMOKE BLUEGRASS! - THE BOB HARVEY STORY
by
Bruno Ceriotti and Bob Harvey

Someone once said that, at least in rock and roll music, The Beatles arguably invented everything. Well, I could agree. Surely they defined the concept of what a rock band was supposed to be, and also defined the very notion of a band’s breaking up. Also, and this is what fascinated me the most, they invented the concept of a “nearly man,” after firing their original drummer Pete Best in 1962, shortly before they going straight into music immortality. Since then, this is what a “nearly man” was. A member of a band who quit or was fired shortly before that band became famous and achieved commercial success. And since then, more or less every famous bands in the world have had their own Pete Best.
For example, Jefferson Airplane even had two “Pete Best,” both original members. The drummer, needless to say, and also the bass player, Bob Harvey. At the venerable age of 89 year old, Harvey holds the record of the oldest member of any 60s bands commonly associated with the San Francisco Sound. Even more intriguing to me is that he was a little past thirty when he played with the Airplane in 1965, and at that time we all known that Jack Weinberg’s phrase “don’t trust anyone over 30” was a sort of statement for the baby boomers generation. “Thank God I always looked younger than I really was,” he laughs. “I hadn’t said anything about my age during my introduction to the group. Had anyone asked I may have lied.”
Well, if these are the premises, I guess Bob has a very interesting and fascinating story to tell y’all and I can’t wait to read it. So, what can I say, let’s start… in his own words:

Bob Harvey: I was born on November 17, 1934, in Burley, Washington, as the youngest of five children of Frank Wesley Harvey and Eleanor Jeffrey. I was born at home, as were all my brothers and my sister. My parents were both born in Nebraska. My mom, daughter of a banker, graduated from Nebraska Normal College at age 16 and then she became a school teacher of students ranging from 1st to 8th grade. My dad learned a trade as an auto mechanic in the garage of the local Ford dealership in Martinsburg, owned by my mom’s father. They married on January 1, 1912. Their first child, Arnold, was born in 1912, followed by Harold in 1915, Franklin Charles in 1921, Eleanor Fay in 1924, and finally me, Robert Brian, but please just call me ‘Bob.’

Bob in Burley, 1935

After moving around the country for several years, the Harveys settled in Seattle where Bob attended the local Seattle Christian High School. There, he was one of the most popular and beloved students. In fact, during his senior year in 1950-51, Bob was elected the student body president and was also a member of the football team, a member of the 25-voice choir, and last but not least, the picture editor of The Shield, the school’s yearbook.

Seattle Christian High School, Class of 1951

Seattle Christian High School, 1950/51

Bob (far left, first row) with the Seattle Christian School's football team, 1950/51

Bob (second from right, third row) with the Seattle Christian High School's choir, 1950/51

Bob (picture editor) with the staff of The Shield, the Seattle Christian High School's yearbook, 1950/51

Bob Harvey: After my graduation in June 1951, I worked that summer as a bus-boy delivering room service at the Roosevelt Hotel and bussing tables in the hotel restaurant. Later that fall I joined the navy, doing boot camp at the San Diego Recruit Depot and then at Aviation Ordnance School in Jacksonville, Florida.

It was while he stationed in Jacksonville in 1951-52, that Bob met his first wife, a local 15-year-old girl named Elaine Bern.

Bob Harvey: She said her mother didn’t want her. I said let’s get married. We went across the state line into Georgia where legal age for marriage in 1952 was 17 for a male and 15 for a female. However, a week after marriage that summer, I was shipped off to the Aircraft Carrier USS Cabot in Boston Harbor. She admitted much later that it was her and her mother's plan for her to find a young dumb sailor to marry and when he was shipped off to sea she would be a married woman, able to live on her own with my Navy allotement to support her. Then, six months before my first enlistment ended, I received divorace documents while at sea, signed them and never went back.

Bob and his first wife Elaine Bern, Jacksonville, 1951/52

In 1952-53, while he was stationed in Boston, Bob finally entered the fabulous world of the showbiz. But not as a musician as you could think, but actually as a ventriloquist!

Bob Harvey: It was on the Mess deck of the Cabot that I watched my first TV show in August ‘52. I’d seen televisions in store windows in Seattle before, but had never sat in front of a TV and watched a show. It was the Paul Winchell, Jerry Mahoney Ventriloquist show that really grabbed my attention. I said, shoot, I could do that. So I went ashore and into Macy’s Department Store, where I bought a Jerry Mahoney Ventriloquist doll for $20. My assignment as the newest grunt in the Ordnance gang was to take care of the Coffee Mess, making coffee, and keeping the place clean from 08:00 till 16:00 every day. When I wasn’t making coffee or cleaning up, I was sitting with my ventriloquist dummy talking to the white hats who came and went all day long. I named the dummy “Buzz” and found that I was actually getting a few laughs from the men who came in for coffee. I found a magic store in Boston, where I purchased what was called a “patter book” that was full of jokes and skits for stand up comedy. I started having the Buzz tell jokes and singing comedy songs that were on the radio, like “How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?” and “When the Red, Red Robin (Comes Bob, Bob, Bobin' Along).” Then I got invited to perform at a Ship's Party in the Hostess House in September ‘52. And needless to say I was taking the dummy into bars and getting free drinks and on one occasion was invited to come home with single mom to put on a show for her two children.

Bob & Buzz, Hostess house, USS Cabot in Boston Harbor, September 1952

Bob Harvey: Aboard the USS Cabot, I was having great fun entertaining the crew and using the dummy to get free beers in town. I found an ad in the patter book that I got my jokes from. It was an ad for Acme Magic Co. in New York City. I wrote to them and ordered a professional Ventriloquist dummy. The cost was $75.00. I was making $50 a month as an E3 Airman, so began standing other sailor's watches to earn money. When I finally had the $75.00 saved up in January 1953, I made the trip to New York on a 72 hour weekend pass. I picked up my new dummy which they had built a sailor suit for the dummy that I named “Sam McDuff.” I walked from Acme Magic down into Times Square where I passed a night club called Wivel. On the sign board it said, “Señor Wences, world famous Ventriloquist appearing today.” I walked up to the door, where I was asked for $2.00 to get in. I said, “I'm a ventriloquist and this is my dummy Sam. I want to see Sr Wences and see if he will let me introduce my dummy Sam to his dummy.” The Bouncer type said, wait here. After a few minutes he came back and said, “Your on kiddo, Sr. Wences wants to see a sailor with a ventriloquist dummy” Not only did I meet Sr. Wences but he invited me and Sam up on stage where I sang, “Mairzy Doats.” The crowd loved it and Sr. Wences had them take a picture of Sam and I on stage.

Bob & Sam McDuff, USS Midway, Norfolk, Virginia, January 1954

Bob & Sam McDuff, mid-1950s

Also, while stationed in Boston in March 1953, Bob became the editor of the Navigator, the official bi-monthly newspaper of the USS Cabot. However, the job lasted only a few months because in September of that year he was transferred to the USS Midway, the largest Aircraft Carries in the US Navy and reported aboard the Midway in Norfolk, Virginia. There, he soon started another job as a radio announcer and got his first taste of his future as musician.

Bob Harvey: My new Division Officer, Lt. T. Mack Long, shocked me by saying, “I heard about you Harvey. You're the Ventriloquist whose been getting your picture in the Navy papers with your dummy Sam McDuff, right?” That was a shocker to have him know about me. Then he shocked me even more. He said, “I'm in charge of the Armed Forces Radio Station WMID here on the Midway and we need an announcer. Would you be interested?” It was like a dream come true. Lt. Long introduced to the Charles Warner, the Petty Officer in Charge of WMID, Radio Midway. Over a period of a week, Warner taught me how to operate the equipment and went on the air with me for the first week. He asked if I minded doing a country western show, as the crew was requesting country music. We called it “Country Caravan.” The fans of country western music made it known what they wanted to hear. It was a whole lot of Hank Williams this and Hank that, with bluegrass music lovers calling out for Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs or Bill Monroe and The Blue Grass Boys. When the Midway's favorite bluegrass band, the Midway Ramblers, got wind that I could sing harmony, it was becoming party time as often as I was willing to participate.

Bob (far left) with The Midway Ramblers, USS Midway, Norfolk, Virginia, fall of 1953

In 1956, Bob was shipped over for another hitch in the navy. He was transferred to a patrol squadron of twin engine seaplanes home based in San Diego, California, but every two years they alternated to Sangley Point Naval Air Station in Cavite City, in the Philippines. There, Bob continued his career as ventriloquist and his work as radio announcer, but also he got a new job as a photographer.

Bob Harvey: Being a photographer was a great job. I loved it. Our job while in the Philippines was to fly daily over the China sea, taking pictures of every ship, chinese junk or rowboat. My job was to stand at an open hatch, firmly belted in place, taking pictures of everything that moved, no matter how big or small. My K-56 Camera shot 8x10 pictures that I would develop and print at the base photo lab and deliver the prints to Air Intelligence. As soon as I learned the base had an Armed Forces Radio Station, KTLG, I stopped by station and applied for an announcing job. With my recomendation from Radio Midway I was given a spot doing the morning sign on and the morning news hour at 6:00am each morning. That was the only time slot that didn't cut into my job at the photo lab. That left my evenings free and Sam McDuff and I began doing show at the Enlisted Men's Club, the O club and that lead to gigs at the American Embassy in Manila.

Bob as US Navy photographer in the Philippines, late 1950s

Bob as deejay at KTLG Armed Forces Radio. Philippines, late ‘50s.

While in the Philippines in July 1958, Bob scored a gig to appear regularly as a ventriloquist on Panda Time, a children’s television show aired every Friday from 5 to 6pm on DZAQ-TV Channel 3 in Manila. The show lasted until December of that year, at which time Bob’s squadron was transferred back to San Diego where they got a bunch of new personnel, one of which was a country guitarist named Les Overstreet. At that point, Bob started playing banjo and soon he and Les started picking and singing harmony together. Meanwhile, in March 1959, the squadron received orders to return in the Philippines.

Bob & Sam McDuff during a show in an elementary school in the Philippines, late 50s

Bob on the tv show "Panda Time", Philippines, 1958

Bob Harvey: At that point Les Overstreet and I had enough songs ready and planned on doing some shows at all the clubs where I had worked as ventriloquist in the Philippines. When we got settled at Sangley Point, we went to see the Chief who was managing the Officer's Club and he hired us for a weekend show. Then, I called Ricardo ‘Dick’ Taylor, the producer of Panda Time, who had an advertising agency called Ad Makers in Manila, and talked him into cover over from Manila to catch our show. We sang Lloyd Price’s ‘Stagger Lee,’ then I brought Sam on stage and I tried out some new jokes. Dick Taylor loved it and said he would take Les and I into a recording studio and we would put out a record. He said he was sure that he could insure some air play for us.

Les Overstreet & Bob Harvey, Philippines, circa 1959-60

Les Overstreet, Sam McDuff and Bob Harvey, Philippines, circa 1959-60

As promised, Dick Taylor signed a contract for a one record deal with his own Gibson Records and Bob & Les recorded and released the 78rpm single, ‘Stagger Lee / Be My Doll,’ in 1959.

Bob Harvey: A local radio station in Manila gave it some air play but there was zero response to ‘Be My Doll’, a song written by Les, and only a weak response to ‘Stagger Lee.’ We did not go back into the studio to record more songs.

Although their single flopped, Bob & Les continued to perform in Manila a lot, both as a duo and later as members of a band called the Sangley Ramblers. Bob alone, also continued to perform as ventriloquist as part of the Sangley Varieties, a variety show which toured military bases and U.S. Embassy, and he still did a show at KTLG radio station from time to time.

The Sangley Ramblers, Philippines, 1959 (Les second left, Bob third left)

Bob & Sam McDuff (far right) as part of the Sangley Variety show, Philippines, 1959

Bob & Sam McDuff (second and third from right on the third row) with the Sangley Variety crew, Philippines, 1959

Last but not least, it was while in Manila in 1959 that Bob met his second wife, a local singer named Neta Reyes.

Bob and his second wife Neta Reyes, Philippines, 1959/60

Bob Harvey: It was love at first sight. She was already married and they had broken up, but Philippines is a Catholic country with no divorce allowed. Neta convinced me if we went to another province to get married, it would never be found out. But her uncle was a Communist Senator and he found out about our marriage. He was anti American, wanting to throw all US bases out of the Philippines. He used my marriage as a tool to publically rail against the US military presence. I was restricted to the Naval Air Station and threatened with a court Martial. The Navy continued to use me as good PR by sending on good will tours to schools in Cavite province. The Court Martial never happened, but I never left the base again (other than school PR trips) until I was transferred back to Treasure Island Naval Station in San Francisco Bay for discharge in October 1960.

In November 1960, discharged from the navy after nine years of service, Bob went to live with his brother Harold in San Mateo, on the San Francisco Peninsula. There, he got a job at Ampex Corp. and also started night school at the local College of San Mateo where he met his third wife Elizabeth Jo Hanold.

Bob Harvey: I was a B student. She was straight A's. We were married by a judge in City Hall, San Francisco, on September 16, 1961. We rented a house in Redwood City and our first son, Robert Brian Jr., was born on November 14, 1962, in San Francisco.

In the early 1960s, the San Francisco Bay Area became a hub for bluegrass and folk music, and Bob, living right there at that time, was also involved in the local scene. He jammed a few times together with a local folkie named Michael Cooney, and then in the summer of 1963, he was involved in the opening of The Golden Lamp, a coffee house in Burlingame.

Bob Harvey (left) and Michael Cooney, Redwood City, California, ca. 1962

Bob Harvey: Me and Jo joined the 1st Baptist church in Burlingame and became involved in a young married couples Bible study. During a retreat where we camped out, I brought my banjo and we sang folk songs around the campfire. Dr. Osborne, the pastor, explained that the church was going to open a coffee shop to be called The Golden Lamp. The focus was to be outreach aimed at young people, high school and college age. The main drawing card to be music. He wanted me to hold hootenannies on Friday night where anyone could get up and perform. I agreed.

Bob at The Golden Lamp. Burlingame, California, 1963

So, every Friday night at The Golden Lamp, Bob not only emceed the hoot but he also performed as well, first singing and playing banjo as solo and then, after a few weeks, he switched to stand-up bass and formed a bluegrass trio called The Slippery Rock String Band along with Lee Cheney on acoustic guitar and Chuck McCabe on 5-string banjo.

Lee Cheney: My older brother, Harvey, introduced me to an acquaintance of his who was interested in getting into a band. This acquaintance was also a Harvey but it was a surname. So I told Robert, (“Just call me Bob”) Harvey that we needed to talk to my partner Chuck to see if we could work something out. Later the three of us sat and talked about what we were trying to accomplish. Chuck was the only one of us that had any idea of what we needed, Bob had limited skills on the guitar, (that didn’t matter because I had a death grip on that spot) but he could sing okay and was willing to do whatever it took to get involved. Chuck said, “We’ll need three voices and a bass player.” Bob said, “I’m two of those.” He had never played bass but he went immediately and rented a stand-up bass of the type used in acoustic bands. Chuck understood the instrument so he gave Bob some instruction in the fundamentals and told him to go home and practice. Bob was nothing if not willing. He returned in about a week with a simple bass line for a half dozen of our songs under his belt. His timing was good enough and we worked on the tunes until the music was reasonably smooth. Bob had practiced until his fingers were raw, (I thought I saw some spots of blood on his bass) so he had taped them up, and he had also put tape on the neck of the bass to mark the positions of the notes. So now we had three instruments and three voices… what next? One evening as I was giving Chuck a ride home, (after what by now was a rehearsal) he said, “We need a name.” To which I replied, with my usual insight and careful consideration, “How about Chuck, Bob and Lee?” Silence… Due North of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, is the diminutive college town of Slippery Rock, home to a state college by the same name. Occasionally, on a slow news day, a local San Francisco bay area TV station would give the tongue-in-cheek scores for the Slippery Rock college sports program. Of interest to virtually no one in the bay area but it may get a smile and it kills time. Chuck said, or maybe I said, “How about Slippery Rock?” Okay, that sounds good. Once that was on the table we went through the variables, Slippery Rock Boys… Trio… Singers… Rangers… Bluegrass Band… wait a minute, how about String Band? Slippery Rock String Band… “I like it, you like it?” “I like it.” Done.

The Slippery Rock String Band #1 at The Golden Lamp in Burlingame, 1963/64 - from left: Chuck McCabe, Bob Harvey, and Lee Cheney

The Slippery Rock String Band #1, 1963/64 - from left: Lee Cheney, Chuck McCabe, and Bob Harvey

In early 1964, at the same time while he was playing with The Slippery, Bob approached for a job a small independent radio station in San Francisco called KPOO.

Bob Harvey: The radio staff was all volunteers, made up of students, musicians, and a number of activists of all stripes. The slot that was open was to do a jazz show. I wasn’t into jazz and it became tedious and I dropped out after a couple of months. The one high point in that short span was doing a live interview with Count Basie at a club in Redwood City.

Meanwhile, after about eight months of rehearsing and playing The Golden Lamp every Friday night, Bob and The Slippery finally ventured out of Burlingame to play a couple of gigs at The Shelter, a coffee house in San Jose, on June 18-19, 1964.

Bob Harvey: We worked as a trio until we played the Shelter. Mike Mindel, the owner, come on stage with his fiddle and it was instant magic. We became a quartet. Mike was not just great on fiddle. He was a great comic and it was his dry humor comedy that was the reason we got hired at the Tangent in Palo Alto where we'd been trying to get in.

As Bob recalls, The Slippery, now a quartet, also began playing hoot nights at Top of the Tangent, a pizza parlor in Palo Alto. Sometime later that summer of ’64, the band finally got their first paying gig when they played at the Coffee & Confusion in San Francisco’s North Beach.

The Slippery Rock String Band #1, Coffee & Confusion, San Francisco, 1964 - from left: Bob Harvey, Chuck McCabe and Lee Cheney

Later, in January 1965, another paying gig followed, this time at the Drinking Gourd, the best folk club in San Francisco at that time.

Bob Harvey: “We played at Coffee & Confusion a lot gaining a following. Our pay was $10 per man for three 45 minute sets each night. Then, we received a better offer to stand in for a gig at the Drinking Gourd, it was $20 per man for four 45 minute sets, the best money we’d ever gotten. The first night was as a replacement for a no-show. That was Saturday night. We got a regular gig after that, but it wasn't a Saturday gig. Our regular night was a weekly Friday show.

It was during one of his regular Friday night gig at the Drinking Gourd either on March 19 or 26, 1965, that Bob eventually overheard a conversation between two local folkie, Marty Balin and Paul Kantner, about the idea of forming a folk-rock band together.

Bob Harvey: We [The Slippery] took a break and came off stage. As I walked past the table where Marty and Paul were sitting, I heard Marty say, “I want it to be a folk-rock group.” Without even missing a beat, I responded, “Can I play bass?” Marty said, “Come over to my place tomorrow and we’ll see how it works.”

So, the very next day, either on March 20 or 27, five aspiring folk-rockers gathered together for the first time at Marty Balin’s apartment on 22 Belvedere Street, in the infamous SF’s hippie neighborhood of Haight-Ashbury.

Bob Harvey: We rehearsed in the living room. It was Marty singing, Paul playing rhythm guitar and singing, Jerry Peloquin on drums, me on upright bass, and a friend of Marty, I don’t remember his name, on lead guitar. After a few minutes Marty asked Paul what he thought about my bass playing. Paul shrugged and said it was OK. I was accepted, but not applauded. I believe Paul wanted warm bodies to get it all going. To me it meant I was accepted. During those early rehearsals at Marty's apt we smoked weed a lot. Paul always had joints and despite Jerry's complaints we always toked up between songs. I remember Jerry having a coughing fit and jumping up, opening a window and gasping for air, it didn't help his standing with Paul, and in turn with Marty. He was a good drummer, but highly opinionated and vocal in his dislike for marijuana. Marty was in charge, but he leaned on Paul's opinion on most everything. I think it was in part due to Paul's relationship with David Crosby, Jerry Garcia and Jorma Kaukonen. It was also that Paul had been longer and deeper into the Hip lifestyle that led Marty to consider Paul a mentor on many levels.

Bob Harvey: All early rehearsals were at Marty’s apartment. At one of these, I had to bring my 2 year old son Robert and laid him on Marty’s bed to sleep. He wet the bed and I was mortified.

So, after the first rehearsals with the fledgling unnamed band, Bob told Cheney, McCabe and Mindel that he was leaving The Slippery to give this “folk-rock thing” a try. Meanwhile, Marty Balin had envisioned his new band as a sextet with a female singer, so he began searching for the right one until Bob suggested Signe Toly, a chick he had a crush on, who joined the band in April.

Bob Harvey: I was friends with John Toly who worked security at the Drinking Gourd. I told him Marty was looking for a female lead vocal. He told me his sister Signe was good enough to fill the bill. John got the band Them Other Pluckers, who were regulars at the Gourd, to back her for a song during a Gourd performance. Marty came and heard her, loved her looks and her voice and she was in. I believe the song she sang was Bob Dylan’s ‘Blowin’ in the Wind.’

Bob Harvey: Signe Toly was a little girl with a really big voice. I first met Signe while visiting her brother John at his apartment and he turned me onto getting high. Signe came over one night while we were smoking dope and she joined in. I was squatting down next to John and Signe had her left hand on my shoulder. She was a very friendly and quiet person, but her singing voice made up for any quietness. A strong and at times quite husky contralto that filled the Matrix. I considered her my friend and for a time we were quite close, then she met Jerry Anderson. I never liked Jerry. On one level I was jealous. I would have loved to be with Signe. After Signe and Jerry married and moved together, she became more distant and didn’t come over to join in like she had before. I felt like Jerry was not a positive influence on Signe. I was afraid he would get her into heroin. Plus, I just missed her friendship.

At some point around May, Marty Balin decided to open his own club so his band would have a showcase to build from. Of course, he need money to do that, so he eventually convinced three young men, a scientist named Paul Sedlewicz and his two friends, bachelors like himself, Ted G. Saunders and Elliot M. Sazer, to invest each one $3,000. For the next couple of weekends, Marty went around to different bars and clubs in San Francisco, and finally he found this pizza parlor at 3138 Fillmore Street, in the Marina District, that was not doing too well all weekend. So he convinced the owner to sell his license to him, or actually to US Pizza Corp., an organization put together ad-hoc by Sedlewicz, Saunders, and Sazer. Formerly known as The Honeybucket, and then as The Syndicate, the “new” club was called The Matrix and the opening was scheduled for August because in the meantime the place need a full interior restoration.

Bob Harvey: And we [the band] did it. Man, I painted half the damn place myself!

So, while the members of the still unnamed band were going back and forth between rehearsals at Marty’s apartment and restoration job at the Matrix, the first lineup change happened in June, when the lead guitarist whose name no one remember left and Paul’s friend Jorma Kaukonen replaced him.

Bob Harvey: Paul didn’t seem to relate to Marty’s friend playing lead. He talked a lot about Jorma.

As a matter of fact, Jorma was a way better guitarist than the unnamed one and with him in the lineup the band seemed finally ready to find a name too!

Bob Harvey: One day Marty called for a meeting at Jorma’s apartment in San Francisco and told everyone to come with a list of possible names for the band. Everyone came with a few names, the only name from my list that I remember is Smokestack Lightning, after Howlin’ Wolf song. But Jorma had two full pages of names that he said he had dreamed up for an imaginary black blues guitarist. The first one that caught our attention, especially Paul, was Blind Lemon Jefferson. The next name was Blind Jefferson Airplane. Paul loved it but said it was too long and suggested it be simply Jefferson Airplane. Marty agreed, as did the rest of us and that was that. Paul made one last point, that it should not be “The” Jefferson Airplane, but simply Jefferson Airplane.

Jefferson Airplane #1, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, June 1965 circa - from left: Jorma Kaukonen, Jerry Peloquin, Signe Toly, Bob Harvey, Marty Balin, and Paul Kantner

In the meantine, around July, the band started rehearsing at The Matrix, which by then was ready enough at least to host the band practices, and also they find a manager through Marty, the now infamous Matthew Katz.

Bob Harvey: Matthew Katz appeared at our first or second rehearsal at The Matrix. His connection to Marty was by way of Barbara Bladen, a drama critic of The San Mateo Times newspaper, who knew Marty and had written articles about him when he was a member of The Town Criers. Matthew bragged about all his connections in the music industry and assured us he could get us a lucrative contract. Jorma and Marty were non committal. Paul took a dislike to Matthew from the start.

A month or so later, on Friday, August 13, Jefferson Airplane finally made their public debut at the opening of The Matrix, in front of, allegedly, 180 people.

Bob Harvey: If I remember well we played Fred Neil’s ‘Other Side of This Life,’ John D. Loudermilk’s ‘Tobacco Road,’ Billy Edd Wheeler’s ‘High Flying Bird,’ Dino Valenti’s ‘Let’s Get Together,’ and Bob Dylan’s ‘Walkin’ Down The Line.’ Then, within a week, we added to our repertoire Memphis Minnie’s ‘Chaffeur Blues’ and Wilson Pickett’s ‘In The Midnight Hour.’

Jefferson Airplane #1, The Matrix, San Francisco, August 1965 - from left: Bob Harvey, Signe Toly, Marty Balin, Jerry Peloquin, Paul Kantner, and Jorma Kaukonen

After their Friday night debut gig, the Airplane continued to play regularly at The Matrix, which was open 7 days a week, including on Monday where they held a regular hootenanny night since August 16 when Bob was even double-booked because he first played with Jefferson Airplane, and then sat-in as guest with an unnamed bluegrass band, probably a fledgling Notes From The Underground, featuring Sandy Rothman, Fred Sokolow, Jody Stecher, Brantley Kearns, and Bing Nathan.
In early September, while they continued to play regularly at The Matrix four or five days a week, Jerry Peloquin suddenly left the band after an argument with Paul Kantner.

Bob Harvey: I liked Jerry because he was supportive of my bass playing. He kept telling Paul that, “Harvey keeps the beat and that is what's important.” But we all knew his days were numbered. It was simply that he didn't get high - period. It was the night that Jerry and Paul's mutual disdain came to a boiling point. Paul had absolutely no concern for other people's feelings. If you did nothing to aggravate him, he ignored you. If you irritated him, he would put you down with comments that could cut to the bone. The band was having an afternoon rehearsal before the 9 o’clock show. Paul didn't like the drum part in the chorus of “In The Midnight Hour.” Paul stopped the song right in the middle of the chorus and said, “stop playing that lame ass polka beat - go back to Wisconsin with the Kilbasso Kings - that's where you belong.” Jerry was built well and weighed a good 45 lbs more than Paul, plus he had been in the Marine Corp. He jumped up from his drums and said, “Kantner, you wouldn't know a good beat if somebody clubbed you with it,” and he punched Paul square in the mouth, knocking him flat on his ass. Paul stayed down. Jerry said, “fuck all of you pretend musicians. I've been in jazz and rock and roll. I was making a living at it when you were still a bunch of snot nosed kids. Take this stupid shit and stick it up your ass - I'm out of here.” Jerry stomped out the door of the Matrix and we never saw him again.

At that point, the band replaced him with Skip Spence, a guitarist who once visited The Matrix to auditioned for the fledgling Quicksilver Messenger Service, and that at the end of the day became instead the new drummer of Jefferson Airplane! (man… the sixties… what a strange time isn’t it?)

Bob Harvey: Marty Balin looked down at John Cipollina and said, “Do you know a drummer?” John shook his head and said, “No.” He looked over at David Freiberg, but David shrugged his shoulders. Skip Spence was standing by the bar. That was the first time he had visited the Matrix. He was there with John Cipollina and his girlfriend Angie. Skip looked like he belonged in a band for sure. Close to 6 feet tall, handsome, with dark blond shoulder length hair. Marty looked down from the stage, spotted Spence and said, “That cat looks like the quintessential hippy - that's my drummer.” He left the stage, walked up to Skipper and said. “You're my drummer.” Skip looked at Marty and said, “Cool, but I'm not a drummer.” Marty's response was, “sure you are - I have a feeling you’re the one - you’re our new drummer.”

After a week of practices, the literally new drummer Skip Spence debuted with the band at The Matrix and, well, the result surprised everyone.

Bob Harvey: Surprisingly, Skip held the beat pretty well. Marty and Paul looked at each other and Paul shrugged as if to say, “whatever man, it’s your call.” It wasn’t exciting rhythm on the drums, but it was passable and Matthew Katz said, “Isn’t that some shit, Marty picks ‘em with extra sensory perception.”

Bob Harvey: From the first time I played behind Skip, his rhythm was solid and strong and I leaned on his beat, heavily. I can’t believe he had never played drums before. His leading the rhythm section was too good. I was riding on his coat tails. Skip was easy to like, amiable, he was a team player. He did whatever he was told. He had a good sense of humor and he was one of those rare people who can pick up practically any instrument and sound like he knows what he's doing. Within days, Skip had all the songs down cold and everybody was happy. Matthew Katz asked Marty how he knew. Marty just shrugged and said, “I just have a feeling about people.” Skip was basically a street person. He didn't have a car and he was crashing with one lady or another, mostly over in the Haight Ashbury. The women were drawn to Skip like moths to the flame. I liked hanging out with Skipper. We didn't talk all that much, but he was easy to be around and he always had good dope.

Jefferson Airplane #2, Ghirardelli Square, San Francisco, September or October 1965. From left: Jorma Kaukonen, Bob Harvey, Marty Balin, Signe Toly Anderson, Paul Kantner, Skip Spence

Jefferson Airplane #2, Sausalito Yacht Harbour, September or October 1965. From left: Jorma Kaukonen, Paul Kantner, Skip Spence, Signe Toly Anderson, Bob Harvey, Marty Balin

Meanwhile, while the band was rehearsing and playing with their new drummer, Matthew Katz was able to bring the Airplane to the attention of several record labels who were invited by him to watch the band playing at The Matrix during the month of September. Among them, Valiant Records, who had an offer rejected by Katz, and RCA Records who sent a representative, Mort Weiner, to see the band on September 7. The next night, September 8, the band played again at The Matrix and, at least for Bob, the show was unforgettable because while he was playing, his wife Jo in the meantime was in hospital to give birth their second son, Frank Wesley Harvey Jr.
          Bob called the hospital during the break between the sets and when he received the good news he promised to his wife to get there as soon as possible after the show. But, hey, those were the sixties remember?, so actually after leaving The Matrix and before going to the hospital, Bob stopped by at a party at Signe Toly’s house where he cheated on his wife with a young and sexy blonde groupie named Pamela ‘Pam’ Blum!

Bob Harvey: It’s true that I cheated with Pam Blum, and that kind of purient sexual interest was not only the reason my marriage broke up sometime later (Jo didn’t know about her, but there were others she did know about that caused the split), but was also the reason I was eventually fired from the band, for not having my focus on the music and on perfecting my bass playing so that Jorma would have wanted me to be a strong part of the rhythm section that backed him.

When Bob mentioned his lack of “perfecting my bass playing” he did not referred to his playing the upright bass, an instrument he actually mastered, but to his playing the electric bass, an instrument he never played before and he was “forced” to play after RCA Records showed interest to sign the band as long as all the band’s members played electric instruments.

Bob Harvey: About my switch to electric bass. It has to be September 17 when I played that instrument for the first time at The Matrix. The Airplane gave me the alternative of either giving up the upright bass or leave the band. So I made the switch. Jorma and I travelled to San Jose and he picked out a Sunburst red Rickenbacker at Benner Music Company, a store where he had always shopped for music supplies and where he had teached guitar in the past. I got so tense behind that change, that I defeated my own purpose. I couldn’t make the transition.

On September 20, Matthew Katz flew with Jefferson Airplane and minimal equipment to Los Angeles to auditions for a bunch of music business people. The first one, that same day, was the legendary producer Phil Spector.

Bob Harvey: In the afternoon, right after our arrival, we made a trip to Phil Spector’s house. His bodyguards kept us standing into the hallway outside his office for close to an hour. We were watched by two well armed guards until Spector finally came down stairs and went into his office. We were told to set up and play in the hallway while Spector stayed in the office with his door just enough ajar to hear us play, but not open enough for us to see in. After doing two songs, Spector sending out another guard to say the audition was over and we were dismissed. We tripped out. Only Kantner said “no, I want to talk to him” and was ushered into the office. The rest of us got back in the van and Paul was with Spector about a half hour. Nothing came of it.

After the failed audition for Spector, the band visited the sound stage of The Big Valley, a western drama television series filmed at CBS Studio Center in Studio City.

Bob Harvey: It was the highlight of the day for me. We were ushered into the dark outer ring of the sound stage where The Big Valley was being shot. We stood in the wings among actors and stage hands watching actress Barbara Stanwyck do a scene. Some of the actors made snide comments about our long hair. One quipped, “You girls just get into town?” Skip and I found ourselves on each side of famous actor Charles Bronson who was waiting for an appearance in an upcoming scene. He turned to me and said quietly, “Don’t pay attention to those assholes, they’re so far down the food chain that they’re hurting for people to pay attention to them.” I thanked him and he chatted and asked questions about where we were from. I’ve been a Charles Bronson fan ever since.

After that, the band returned to their rooms at the Palms, a secluded lodge in the Hollywood Hills, where Bob and Skip, who shared a room together, spent that first night in LA getting high and writing a song titled ‘Hurting for People.’

Bob Harvey: That night back at the room that Skip and I were sharing, I wrote in my journal, describing the exciting things we had done that day, but with special focus on the scene on the set of The Big Valley. Skip asked what I was writing about and I shared with him my thoughts about Charles Bronson and told him how the phrase “hurting for people” had stuck in my head. I read Skip the lines I had jotted down: “Hurting for people, got no time to hate / Hurting for people, got no time wait / Don’t tell me what love is, cause it just ain’t / It’s just a need to communicate.” Skip showed an interest and went to Paul’s room and borrowed his six-string guitar and we worked out a melody. I kept adding lines and Skip had input to the lyrics. Skip and I finished that song that night. I loved Skip’s drumming and after he wrote “Hurting for People” with me I was focused on being his friend as well as being an integral part of the rhythm section.

The next day, September 21, the band meet with and audition for Colpix and Capitol Records.

Bob Harvey: I have no memory of Colpix, but I remember the short demo we recorded at Capitol Studios. We did two songs, “Other Side of this Life” and “Tobacco Road,” but what happened to it and why it wasn’t used, I have no idea. At Capitol we were introduced to Voyle Gilmore, producer of the Kingston Trio. He was not impressed with us, but took us to lunch at the Brown Derby restaurant where we raised a few eyebrows. Tony Curtis was two tables down, 3 sheets to the wind. He spilled his drink over his lap and had to grab the table to keep from falling out of his chair. He was given the deep six out the door.

The next day, September 22, Matthew Katz arranged for the band to make another demo, this time for Columbia Records.

Bob Harvey: It was a five-song demo: “Other Side of this Life,” “Tobacco Road,” “High Flying Bird,” “Chaffeur Blues,” and “Let’s Get Together.” Those songs are owned by Katz who put them out on his own label forty years later. He put Jack Casady’s name on those and paid him $1,000 for the rights to songs actually recorded by ME a month before he replaced me in the band!

A number of copies were made of the five-song demo and after the band arrived back in San Francisco the next day, September 23, Katz immediately send one copy to Mort Weiner of RCA Records, who liked it and within a week a tentative offer had arrived from the label. It was only at that point that the band signed a formal management agreement with Katz.

Bob Harvey: “Marty was all for sign with Matthew. Paul never liked Matthew and never trusted him. The date we signed with Katz was after the demo and the offer from RCA.

With a recording contract with a major label almost in the pocket, the Airplane were ready to takes off and everyone were happy but one, Bob Harvey. As with Jerry Peloquin before him, they all knew Bob’s days were numbered too, including Bob himself who was intellectually honest about it.

Bob Harvey: I was fired because I didn’t have my head and my heart focused on the music. I was on an ego trip. I was focused on struggling with transitioning from upright bass to electric bass. Jorma was not happy with my bass playing and wanted Jack Casady, his music buddy from high school who complimented his lead guitar. I readily admit Jack’s excellence on bass. I was no competition.

Bob’s last gig with the band was at The Matrix on October 22. He actually didn’t even know he was fired and no one told him until he entered into the dressing room that night before the show and understand it by himself.

Bob Harvey: On the dressing room wall there was a cartoon of a biplane with all the band members on it drawn by Marty since we restored the club. Originally I had been pictured sitting on the tail, but that night it suddenly was altered to show me hanging on to the tail by my fingertips. A word bubble above my head was added and read, “I can’t help it if I smoke bluegrass.”

Bob Harvey: “After the show, in the meeting in the dressing room, Jorma said to me, “I like you Bob, but I have to have a bass player who is as good on his instrument, as I am on lead guitar.”

However, because the band had already a gig booked at UC Berkeley’s Harmon Gymnasium a week later on October 30 and Jack Casady was still in his hometown of Washington D.C., they asked Bob to play that show too and he kindly agreed. But, two days later, on October 24, Jack flew to San Francisco and immediately started rehearsing with the band and no one tell Bob about it. So, totally left in the dark, Bob showed up at UC Berkeley to play with them one last time as promised, but Skip Spence, the only member of the band already there, surprised him by telling the truth.

Bob Harvey: I showed up early and Skip was there and he rudely said, “you’re not playing this gig.” I was angry and hurt and had brought friends to witness my last gig with the Airplane. So I turned and left and I never saw Jack or the others that day. I never met Jack at all that year. Jack and I saw each other in later years when I visited the Airplane mansion and attended a couple of their gigs in LA, but not one word was ever spoken between us. I felt insecure around him.

Bob Harvey: I had fun being the bass player in Jefferson Airplane and I wouldn’t trade that time for anything, but the real value and benefit is that it set my fire for writing lyrics. I wanting to be a writer. That was the real gift I received for my seven months in the band.

In November 1965, suddenly jobless and without money (in fact “Matthew Katz failed to pay Bob Harvey,” was one of the accusations against the band’s former manager wrote in a statement made by Marty Balin in 1974 in response to a set of legal questions posed by Katz during a legal battle between him and the Airplane which started back in 1966 after they kicked him out), Harvey decided to go back to his first love, the upright bass and the bluegrass music, and soon he was welcomed back into in his old band, The Slippery Rock String Band.

Bob Harvey: They were diplomatic. They may have had inner animosity because I walked away from them and left them hanging. They had tried out a bass player or two and they didn’t work out. They were glad to get me back. The bass playing fit with what they were doing and I had the vocal harmonies. The animosity did come out later when the band broke up.

The Slippery Rock String Band #2, 1966 - from left: Mike Mindel, Bob Harvey, Lee Cheney, Chuck McCabe

The Slippery Rock String Band #2, 1966 - from left: Bob Harvey, Mike Mindel, Chuck McCabe, and Lee Cheney

Also, as Bob recalled in the previous issue, playing with the Airplane fueled him to became a full-time songwriter too. Back in September, while he was in Los Angeles with the band, he wrote his first song, ‘Hurting For People,’ followed a month later, in October, to another one titled ‘Poor Girl.’

Bob Harvey: I wrote the lyrics in October ’65 when I was breaking up with my third wife Jo. I wanted the music more than anything and I was willing to throw away my relationship and even willing to walk away from my two children, but there was a lot of guilt, so I wrote a sonnett to Jo. It sounded like an outsider’s view of Jo needing to forget the man who had wronged her, but then in the last verse it becomes evident that it is me singing - from my own viewpoint and telling her she will be better off without me. Then, in January ’66, I got together with my friend Willy Sievers of The Sopwith Camel and together we turned the lyrics to ‘Poor Girl’ into a very nice and strong song.

Bob’s third marriage eventually came to an abrupt and definitive end in February 1966 when he moved to Los Angeles with The Slippery Rock String Band.

Bob Harvey: We made contact with Norman Malkin, manager of The Dillards, a great bluegrass band out of Missouri. Norman liked the demo we sent and convinced us to move to LA, where he was located. He said he could keep us working. All four of us were renting a house together on the east side of the 101 freeway in Palo Alto. I was living with a girlfriend named Carol Keck, a dancer I’d met while we were appearing at the Drinking Gourd. I told my wife Jo that we were moving to Los Angeles. A few days later, Jo appeared at the front door of our house in Palo Alto at about 8 in the evening. She had my three year old son Rob by the hand and was holding five month old Wes. She said, “If you think I’m going to stay home every night taking care of your sons while you are out playing music and getting stoned, you’re crazy. Here, you and your new girlfriend take care of them. I’m going out and have a good time. I’ve got my own plans for the future.”

Bob with his girlfriend Carol Keck and his sons Bob /the older) and Wes (the younger), Palo Alto, circa January/February 1966

Bob Harvey: So in February ’66 the band made the move to LA. Carol, Rob, Wes and I in my Opal headed for Hermosa Beach where Mike Mindel had rented a house. We lived with Mike in his house for awhile and then I rented a small house right on the beach. We made Hermosa our headquarters as Mike had landed our first gig at the House of The Rising Sun, a cafe-folk theatre located in nearby Redondo Beach. That gig became our number one mainstay where we could always count on it. We built a fan base there and we counted on it.

The gigs at the House of The Rising Sun were so well received that the band taped one of their show there in June 1966. The intention was to put out an album but, for no particular reasons, the master tapes stored in producer Tom Holtum’s basement for months and months, and when the band eventually disbanded a year later, they all forgot about them.

Bob Harvey: Until the summer of 2002 when Chuck McCabe was performing in a club in Los Angeles and after the show he ran into Tom Holtum who reminded Chuck that he still had the master tapes. So Chuck sent me an email asking if I wanted to join in the project to digitize them and put out an album, our first album, even if it was almost 40 years too late. A few folk labels had shown mild interest in distribution, but we had no firm commitments. Nevertheless, producing the album after 40 years has been a labor of love. We were a far better band than any of us knew at the time. The many years that slipped away since the last time I had heard the tape of that performance, have sharpened the realization that all we had to do was just stick with it and we'd have gotten the recognition we were seeking.

In 2004, that live recording was mixed down and put onto two CDs: “Live at the House of the Rising Sun - Volume 1 & 2.”

Bob Harvey: It was done as a move to retain the history and music of the Slippery Rock String Band, but the CDs were never “released,” but simply passed out to friends and relatives.

Anyway, The Slippery Rock didn’t play only at the House of The Rising Sun that year. Their new manager Norm Malkin put them on the road in October 1966 with a four week appearance at the Village Inn in Vail, Colorado.

Bob Harvey: The place was the focal point for the ski crowd during the winter season. The Inn had us doing PR all over the state of Colorado, but mainly doing TV spots in Denver to draw people to our shows at the Village Inn on weekends.

The Slippery Rock String Band #2, unknown TV Show in Denver, October 1966 - from left: Chuck McCabe, Lee Cheney, Bob Harvey, and Mike Mindel

The Slippery Rock String Band #2, unknown TV Show in Denver, October 1966 - from left: Mike Mindel, Bob Harvey, Lee Cheney, Chuck McCabe

From there, the band moved back to Southern California where they were booked to play as opening act for the famous folksinger Bob Lind at The Ice House in Pasadena from November 1 to 27, 1966.

Then, from December 13 to January 8, 1967, they played at The Buddhi, a “shoe string” folk club with mismatched thrift store tables in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

Bob Harvey: We were a good match with the crowd that haunted The Buddhi. We partied a lot and slept very little. Mindel spent his time writing letters or on the phone with his wife Darlin. Cheney and I chased local girls, while McCabe on the other hand preferred California girls, so he imported his from the coast. Alexis, a waitress from The Ice House, was so hot for Chuck that she flew in with curb service.

The Slippery Rock String Band #2, Oklahoma City, December 1966 - from left: Bob Harvey, Lee Cheney, Chuck McCabe. and Mike Mindel

On January 13, 1967, The Slippery Rock returned home in Hermosa Beach, but by the very next day they were ready again to flight somewhere else to play.

Bob Harvey: We were still in Oklahoma City when we received a message from Norm Malkin. He had us booked for a one month USO Tour of Vietnam. To save time, we went to the Naval Training Center in Norman, Oklahoma, for a physical and shots. After we ended our engagement at the Buddhi, we were packed and ready to go. We had four days to get back to LA and be ready for the flight to Vietnam. We got home on a Friday night. Carol said, “You've been with me two days in the last month. My answer was, “Music is what I do, what I've always wanted to do and a good part of the reason you're with me. You've got [your younger sister] Becky here to help you.” Carol didn't push it. The next day we flew to Travis Air Force base and boarded an Air Force transport, headed for Saigon. We were part of a USO Tour that included Nancy Sinatra, Raymond Burr, plus quarterbacks Bob Friese and Don Meredith, who later became part of the Monday Night Football crew with Howard Cosell and Frank Gifford. Everyone on the plane wanted us to perform, so we set up back in a small lounge in the tail. Everyone seemed to enjoy the show.

Bob Harvey: We landed at Tan Son Nhut Air Base near Saigon, where we were met by Captain Bill King, our escort officer. The heat and humidity felt like I was back in Manila. The Meyerkord Hotel was not the Ritz, but it sure beat the huts and bunkers we slept in for the rest of our 30 day tour of Special forces camps. We did three shows per day and wherever we did the 3rd show, that's where we slept. We had one day off each week. One of our larger shows was at an Army base just outside Saigon. The show was in an outdoor theater that was packed. Beyond the seating area, men stood or sat on the ground. They ate up every song and laughed at everything that came out of Mike Mindel's mouth. It's a good thing Mike didn't fall of that stage. It was about 12 feet to the ground. We played 45 minutes and took a break. Soldiers crowded around the stage. One man came up to me and said, “I saw the notice about your show and freaked out. I'm from Slippery Rock, PA. It sure is great to see you guys. It's better than mail from home.” He asked, “Want to smoke some really good shit?” The soldier took Chuck and I to his tent. He got out a coffee can full of the blackest marijuana I'd ever seen. He said it was called “Black Gunsha.” The three of us got totally wasted. Before we went back on stage, he gave me directions to a tailor ship close to our hotel. A one pound coffee can crammed full of Black Gunsha, cost $5.00. The next morning I left the Meyerkord Hotel and followed the soldier's instructions. I bought five pound of Black Gunsha for $25.00. That afternoon we were put on board an Apache gunship and taken to a Special forces Camp where we put on a show. Right in the middle of the first song, we heard mortar fire and the loud speaker screamed, “Incoming,” so we laid our instruments down and dove under the stage. The mortar attack didn't last long and we proceeded with our show.

The Slippery Rock String Band #2 in Vietnam, 1967 - from left: ? (unknown soldier), ? (unknown soldier), Lee Cheney, Chuck McCabe, Bob Harvey, Mike Mindel

The Slippery Rock String Band #2 in Vietnam, 1967 - from left: Mike Mindel, Lee Cheney, Bob Harvey, Chuck McCabe

Bob Harvey: One of the most memorable army units that we played for was the 7th Cavalry. Those were some very tough and determined soldiers. The unit had lost it's colors in Korea, when the outfit was overrun and their colors were taken by the North Koreans. I was expecting to find a disheartened bunch who were down-in-the mouth about being in an outfit that had been dishonored. That was not the case at all. The officers used it to toughen the men and make them even more determined. They seemed eager for battle, very upbeat, hoping for the chance to win the day and win back their unit colors. After our show at the 7th Cavalry we were flown back to Tan Son Nhut Air Base and then driven to the Meyerkord, where we had 24 hours to rest up before catching a plane home. Captain King took our pictures in front of the hotel. After settling into my room, I headed for the tailor shop where I bought enough Black Gunsha to fill my upright bass a third of the way up to the F-holes.

On his last night in Vietnam, Bob wrote a new song titled ‘Shadow Leaves,’ again inspired by a woman, this time his girlfriend Carol Keck.

Bob Harvey: What an evening I spent on the hotel roof. The lights of Saigon were a gigantic show. I felt like I was in a time-warp, the lyrics seemed to flow and twinkle like the lights of the city. I was thinking about Carol and wondering if the relationship would make it, especially since her sister was with us and her parents having to subsidize my income to keep us afloat. “Was a time when I knew what was gray, what was blue / What was false, what was true and I knew I loved you / Now flames dance in my heart, and I hum in the dark / And the shadow leaves fall as I stumble and crawl.”

Sadly for Bob, however, his relationship with Carol came to an abrupt end too after he returned home in February 1967.

Bob Harvey: The next day, with my stash safely stored inside my bass, we boarded the transport for home. Musically, the month in Vietnam did wonders. We were really tight. I could feel the difference when we played our first show at the Rising Sun. We were tight. The tour had helped our stage presence, but not my presence at home. Carol was uptight. She had her bags packed, ready to head back to San Francisco. I should have done everything possible to change her mind, but I was hurt and angry and I let those emotions take over. Carol had been a good mother to my boys and she took good care of me as well. She stayed at home with the boys when she really wanted to be with me and the music.

Single again, Bob don’t wasted his time because as one famous idiom says “there’s plenty more fish in the sea,” so sometime later he was already falling in love for another girl named Carrie and, needless to say, he also wrote a song about her titled ‘Blowin’ My Mind.”

Bob Harvey: She was a friend of Mike Mindel’s wife Darlyn. She was strange. She was bisexual, a gorgeous brunette with a set of very full and beautiful lips. She was quite willing to have sex. We spent time getting high and making love. I tried, but couldn't really get close to her. She showed more affection to Darlyn than she did to me. I asked her how she felt about me. Her answer was, “I dig you.”

Meanwhile, in June 1967, The Slippery Rock String Band released their first and only single, “Tule Fog / Sally Brought Him Home.” Produced by Norman Malkin and released by a short-lived local label called Dome Records, the single coupled a 1965’s cover of The Ackridge Singers’ “Tule Fog” written by Bill Ackridge, with Lee Cheney’s orginal “Sally Brought Him Home.”

Bob Harvey: I sang on that. I was the lead vocalist. Our bluegrass single got a fair amount of air play in San Francisco, but the band lost interest and slowly was coming apart. I had a hand in it’s demise. I wanted to change direction. I wanted us to become a rock band. We were talking about either becoming a rock band or breaking up. Mike Mindel was all for going rock and he told me about a great female vocalist named Candy Criddle, back in Northern California. I called her and began the active push to get her to come to L.A. and join the band. I continued to arrange my own downfall. The germ of discontent had been sewn. After many letters and phone calls, Candy Criddle made the move to LA. Meanwhile, a siunger named David Troy and his friend Glen Larson of the Four Preps were wanting to become producers and were very interested in doing something with the Slippery Rock String Band as it evolved into a rock band. Because I had been instrumental in guiding the band toward the change to rock and roll, I thought I was an integral part of the evolution until Chuck McCabe broke it to me. Tiran Porter (later of Doobie Brothers) a young black bass player from Hermosa Beach was taking my place. The Slippery Rock String Band was no more.

Bob Harvey: It took me months to fight my way out of that rejection. I told Chuck it didn't matter, but it did. I turned that pain into another song titled “Can I Be On Your Side” in 1968: “Hey can I be on your side / I said it didn't matter I lied / I am so afraid of hearing you say no / rejection always comes just like a mortal blow.”

So, in the fall of ’67, Bob was again in a deep funk with no income and no music. Soon, however, he put again the pieces of his life together and found a job as a parts dept. driver for the Ford Dealership in Torrance, and also a new home in Hermosa Beach for him, his kids, and his new love interest Jan.

Bob Harvey: Jan was a friend of Mike Mindel. I knew her from back in San Francisco, when she would come to hear us at the Drinking Gourd. Jan said she was looking for an apartment. I asked if she would move in and help me take care of the kids. She said yes. She had a beautiful olive complexion and big brown eyes. She had a gap between her two front teeth that I found very sexy. She took good care of Rob and Wes, she washed our clothes, cleaned house and fixed the meals. In the evenings we would discuss problems with the kids. Jan listened to my songs and poetry, but there was always a wall. I was fighting depression. It was my father's relentless message of impending failure and doubt. I feared it so much it became a self fulfilling prophecy. Then after each setback, I would suffer the feeling of insecurity and guilt.

Also that fall, Bob eventually formed a short-lived rock band called Catfish Wakely with Tom Lane on lead guitar, Andy Drasell on rhythm guitar, Homer Kent on drums, and himself on electric bass.

Bob Harvey: We auditioned for Capitol Records and Columbia Records but nothing came of it. For them we recorded a couple of songs of mine, ‘Blowin’ My Mind,’ and ‘Greenworld,’ the latter which I wrote after reading a science fiction story with a description of a starship crashing and exploding during a landing. I don’t remember anything else except it never got off the ground.

In December ’67, after Catfish Wakely disbanded, Bob ran an ad in the Los Angeles Free Press trying to find the right musicians for a new band.

Bob Harvey: During the Christmas Holidays I got a response to the ad from a girl named Tanya Cantor, a guitarist with a great voice. She invited me to a party at her apartment. Tanya introduced me to a song writer named Paul Williams. Paul told me about his trip with White Whale Records. They paid him a weekly retainer and gave him free access to a recording studio where he made demos of his songs. Paul talked about his acting career playing juvenal roles like his role with Jonathan Winters in The Loved Ones. At 26-years-old Paul could pass for 14. He was 5"4' with a chubby round face full of freckles. As he talked, he continually brushed the hair back from his face. When he sang it was Donovan, no, more like Dilan, but raspier, maybe softer. Oh well, it was just Paul Williams. I liked his voice and I really liked his songs, especially one titled ‘1984,’ where “Big Brother” tracks our every move. I sang my song ‘Greenworld’ and Paul said, ‘Wow, nice lyrics.’ He handed me a card and said, ‘give me a call so we can get together and jam.’ So I called Paul the next day and we got together at his apartment and traded songs. He sang one of the first songs we recorded together called ‘Scorpio Red,’ and I sang my songs ‘Bitter Cherry’ and ‘Wildflowers.’ His comment was, ‘Let's put a band together and record.’

So, at the dawn of the new year, Bob and Paul Williams started messin’ around and soon a country-rock band was put together called The Holy Mackerel. The lineup featured Bob Harvey on vocals and electric autoharp, Paul Hamilton Williams II on lead vocals, Paul’s brother Mentor Ralph Williams on lead vocals and rhythm guitar, George Milton Hiller Jr. on lead guitar, organ, dobro, harmonica, banjo and vocals, and Cynthia Ann ‘Cindy’ Fitzpatrick on flute and vocals.

The Holy Mackerel, Los Angeles 1968 - clockwise from top: Bob Harvey, George Hiller, Mentor Williams, Paul Williams, Cindy Fitzpatrick

Bob Harvey: I called Paul the next day and we got together at his apartment and traded songs. He sang one of the first songs we recorded together called ‘Scorpio Red,’ and I sang my songs ‘Bitter Cherry’ and ‘Wildflowers.’ His comment was, ‘Let's put a band together and record. That was the beginning of the band The Holy Mackerel. One moment we were wondering if we should sign with White Whale Records, and the next moment, everything changed. Paul had collaborated with song writer Biff Rose on a song called ‘Fill Your Heart.’ Paul's publishing company Irving Music presented the song to Reprise Records (Warner Brothers) and they picked it up for an unknown singer named Tiny Tim. Richard Perry, who was producing an album for Tim, was very interested in Paul's music, so the Holy Mackerel ended up signing with Reprise Records and we spent the next six months in the recording studio recording an album. I suddenly had a regular income and life was looking very promising.

In March 1968, The Holy Mackerel started recording their eponymous album. However, near the end of the recording in the summer of that year, Bob suddenly quit the band.

Bob Harvey: I recorded the debut album with them. I had originally had three songs of mine scheduled. Producer Richard Perry cut two of them from the lineup [actually one of them, ‘Listen To The Voice’ co-wrote with George Hiller, was recorded but remained unissued at least until 2022 when was released on the band’s compilation, Love For Everyone: The Reprise Mono Singles & More, ed.], and when we recorded the third on, ‘Wildflowers,’ he stopped the session and cut my vocal and Paul did the lead. He said, ‘Bob, I just don't know what to do with your voice. We're going to have Paul sing lead. You do killer harmony and we'll let you really cut loose on the high harmony.’ To be whacked from singing on your own song really hit home. I was very angry and stewed over it for several weeks and then resigned, told Paul I was quitting.

Bob Harvey: Actually, even more than just them not letting me sing lead on my one song, they also brought in two new members, Jeremiah Obern Sheff on bass and Michael Ray Cannon on drums, which made me fear I would be replaced and thrown out. So I went to Paul at his A&M office and told him I was leaving, hoping he would say, ‘Dont't go, I want you to stay.’ He didn't and I left. Paul and Richard were very pissed off.

In early November 1968, when the album was released, there’s no mention of Bob. No photo, no credit, nothing at all.

Bob Harvey: I quit before the album was released, which gave them a chance to pull in new members and take new pictures. My voice is on the album, I sang harmony on every song, but they lied and said they had re recorded all the songs, which isn’t true. They may have added tracks, but that's my high harmony for sure. They said that so as to cut me out of any BMI payments. I have no way of proving that is or was the case.

Bob Harvey: They had to do a new cover, which they blamed on my leaving and not telling them until the day I quit. Paul has held a grudge ever since. He took away my electric autoharp and gave it to Cindy Fitzpatrick. Cindy and I were friends and former lovers, so she gave the autoharp back to me.

After another failed experience as a member of a band, Bob decided to focused on his career as a songwriter.

Bob Harvey: In 1968 I wrote the music for my friend Robert Glover’s anti-war stage play ‘Us-Them.’ The songs I wrote for that production are some of my very best work ever. Later, in early 1969, I was hired to write music for a movie called Bitter Cherry. I used Chuck McCabe from the Slippery Rock String Band on lead guitar, Homer Blake on drums, and Tiran Porter of the Doobie Brothers on bass. I played rhythm guitar and sang all the vocal parts.

In 1969, Bob also composed a couple of new songs, ‘Help Her Up’ and ‘Black Velvet Soul,’ which were recorded and released as singles by The Hair Pair and Cookie Thomas respectively.

Bob and a dancer, Los Angeles, circa 1969

That same year, and clear into early 1970, he also worked as a photographer for Golden State News newspaper, and last but not least he submitted his first poem to a contest.

Bob Harvey: I paid $10 entry fee and never heard from them again. Despite the knowledge that they were probably scams, I have entered a number of these Poetic come-ons over the years. 1969 to 1974 was the most productive period in my life for poetry and art.

In 1970, billed on the poster as ‘Robert Harry [sic] Formerly with the Jefferson Airplane,’ Bob appeared as one of the leading actors on a crime B-movie titled The Commune. Then, in 1971, he wrote the music for another B-movie, a porn thriller titled Climax. Finally, in 1972, he appeared again as one of the leading actors on a biker B-movie titled A Hard Ride To The Movies.

Bob Harvey: I played Charles Manson in The Commune. The films were low budget. Jack Genero was the director. I also produced the music for A Hard Ride To The Movies. I wrote the title song in partnership with Don Preston of The Mothers, and we recorded the soundtrack in Frank Zappa’s studio with the help of other members of the band. Don and I both had parts in the movie too. I was the Pres. and Don was a biker gang member.

Later, on November 17, 1974, on the day of his 40th birthday, Bob decided to quit music and go back to school.

Bob Harvey: I received my BA in journalism in December 1976 from California State University at Los Angeles, and for the next 20 years I only played music for my own enjoyment.

So, from the late ‘70s to early ‘80s, Bob did a writing internship at the Whittier Daily News newspaper, then went to work as writer at Huntington Park Daily Signal newspaper, and finally became the entertaintment editor at American Trucker Magazine.

Bob Harvey: My writing trip at the Huntington Park Daily Signal was short lived. The publisher fired me after a few months saying I should go write for the LA Free Press with all the other hippies. I took a truck driving course for $200 dollars and began driving 18 wheelers cross country. It was mid August 1977 when I pulled into the Albuquerque, New Mexico, Husky Truck Stop for fuel and a break. A chevy convertable with four foxy ladies handed me a copy of volume 1 of Mother Trucker News, a news print fold over that a year later morphed into American Trucker Magazine. I took a job with MTN as Entertainment Editor. With the name Mother Trucker it was hard to sell advertising. In 1978, I got Mort Weiner to do a full page ad for Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson’s new album Waylon & Willie at RCA and the other recording companies followed suit, which caused the name change to American Trucker, all slick and glossy.

Bob at the Husky Truck Shop in 1977 with issue #1 of Mother Trucker News

Then, in 1982, Bob left American Trucker Magazine and took a job with Great American Truck Racing, the sanctioning body for big rig truck racing in Atlanta, Georgia.

Bob Harvey: Yes, my fourth wife Wanda (the associate editor) and I left ATM and took a job with Great American Truck Racing. Wanda wrote articles and published a monthly racing magazine, while I was on the road setting up races, getting tv and print stories by pulling in a driver and the race truck to draw the media, especially our one female driver and her pink truck which drew media like crazy.

Later, in 1985, Bob also left Great American Truck Racing and re-enlisted in the Navy as battalion journalist for the Reserve Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 24, one of twenty-three Seabee battalions.

Bob Harvey: I had served previously. I had called to find out what the formula would be if you had served a certain amount of time in the past. The fact is if you have a skill they are looking for they can find a place. I had a journalism background and I was allowed to go back.

Bob Harvey: In 1990 I went to Saudi Arabia as a journalist covering Desert Storm. It was there I met Brian Fowler, an amazing mandolin player attached to Seabee battalion 24. Brian rekindled my musical drive. We started playing together and when we got back to the States and civilian life in May 1991, we did some writing and recording for awhile, before we lost touch after I had a family tragedy and I had my hands full dealing with it.

In 1994, Bob retired from the Naval Reserve for good and four years later, in October 1998, he reconnected again with Brian Fowler. They began working on songs again. Bob would send lyrics and Brian would add music.

Bob Harvey: And eventually we started recording an album titled ‘Idiot’s Vision.’ We didn’t complete the album until 2000 and released it in 2001 under the name of San Francisco Blue. I sang and played acoustic guitar, while Brian played mandolin, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, and bass. While there is the bluegrass and folk element, Brian has a lot of psychedelic influences. Even though he plays bluegrass he’s totally into Hawkwind. His head has always been into Hawkwind. Anyway, since that point, my existence has been refocused towards my music.

The duo promoted the album on the road playing some gigs with a four-piece band featured Bob on rhythm guitar, upright bass, autoharp, harmonica and vocals, Brian on lead guitar, mandolin, and fiddle, plus Kerry Low on congas and John Joiner on electric bass, keyboard, and flute. Then, in 2001, Bob parted ways for a bit with Brian after he suffered a heart attack.

Bob Harvey: It was a life changing experience. After the operation I had a very difficult recovery. I began to have a problem being around food. Eating would cause a bad reaction. I lost a lot of weight and that was in addition to the weight I lost before the surgery. The surgeon didn’t seem to have the same concern I did. I went to my regular doctor and he worked to see what the problem was and got me off the medication that was hurting the system.

That life changing experience as Bob called it, led him to wrote and released a terrific charity single titled ‘Comes A Time’ in 2001. Then, in 2002 and out of the blue, he reconnected with the other Jefferson Airplane’s “nearly man,” the late original drummer Jerry Peloquin (who sadly passed away on November 1, 2022).

Bob Harvey: There was a guy that headed a Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship site in Scotland. The site isn’t around anymore. I can’t think of the person’s name, but he had asked if I would be interested in playing with Jerry. I told him if he finds the place for us to play, I’ll drive to Maryland and we can have a show. We ended up being booked at a place in Hagerstown, Maryland, on February 16. The venue was called the Washington Spy Restaurant. That gig may have been just a moment in time, but it was an unforgettable moment. The crowd was right and the time was right. Jerry and I put on one of the finest shows I’ve ever been a part of. It was due to a very great extent to the audience, which was made up predominantly of Jefferson Airplane fans. They came expecting a great show, and showed their enthusiasm, and their appreciation. We performed my music, which was bluegrass. We did ‘In The Midnight Hour’ (the Airplane played this live in the early days) and the song that the Youngbloods had such a big hit with ‘Get Together’ (the Airplane did this tune as well).

Bob Harvey: I recorded the concert, but the equipment I used malfunctioned and we didn’t get even one minute. We also did a radio interview and the experience was a lot of fun. After that we talk about additional shows but we didn’t have the money for the project. We even discussed the possibility of forming a band for a cruise ship. Although it never happened, I was glad to see Jerry and play in front of a lot of old fans.

Later, in 2004, Bob started to play with Brian Fowler again and in 2005, as San Francisco Blue, they released two new albums, one recorded live in Cartersville, Georgia, and titled ‘Live on the Cartersville Express,’ and another recorded in the studio and titled ‘Hurtin For People.’ This time Bob and Brian were backed by a new drummer and conga player named Hank ‘Pop’ Tart.

Bob with Brian Fowler, circa 2004

A year later, in 2006, Bob released another album titled ‘Children of the Wind’ in partenership with a singer named Georgia Blue. In 2007, he also co-wrote a song titled ‘I’m Lucky’ with another singer named Candye Kane that was released on the latter’s album ‘Guitar’d and Feathered.’
A year later, on August 24, 2008, Bob reconnected with Jerry Peloquin again and also with two other former Airplane bandmates, Marty Balin and Signe Toly Anderson. The quartet, augmented by Slick Aguilar and other guest players, perfomed as the Airplane Family Reunion at the “Concert for Big Red” festival held at the Clatsop Community College Arts Center in Astoria, Oregon. The show was another one of a kind experience and a trip down the memory lane for Bob, but it was also a sort of the “last hurrah” for him, at least as professional musician. You know, he lived the cliched life of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll for the last 40 years and over, and now it was time to live a more quiet life.
Now at 89, he’s been married (again!) since 2018 and has found God. He’s a member of Allen Chapel Church in Lancaster, Ohio (he lives in near Sugar Grove), and has been clean and sober from drugs and alcohol since 1984.

Bob Harvey: It’s a 100% different now, that’s for sure. As far as the drug are concerned, or anything else addictive, I’m clean. I have a close relationship with God. I have a wife, Joyce, whose a very Godly person and we’re closely involved with more than one church locally. It’s a day-by-day walk with God in my life. That’s what my life circles around at this point. We try daily to live up to it and be a light to other people.

However, Bob is still a performing musician. He plays local gigs from time to time and recently he has written his first gospel song. Last but not least, he also compiled a book of poetry entitled, “From Jefferson Airplane to Redemption,” and written a novel entitled, “The Legend of Elos Mountain.”

Bob Harvey: That’s where my focus is. You can’t really throw it out because it really is who you are. Yes, the memories are all still there. There’s good memories and there’s bad ones all woven in together. I can pick things out, special moments of all kinds.

Bob at his home in Sugar Grove, Ohio, 2022

Bob in the 2020s