Memories of the Winterland closing begin with a great anticipation and planning. Getting tickets, coming to the city the day before and getting a good place in line and the inevitable waiting and waiting in line, overnight – through the next day until finally – the doors opened and we dashed for the prized seats, first row balcony. After that thrill wore off, there was more waiting, setting up the tape recorder, sampling the intoxicants and exploring the hall. As many stories as I had heard about Winterland, I had never seen a show there, this would be my first and last. The building buzzed with Deadheads already seeming to share the collective excitement of a unique event, and the expectation of an epic night, however that might turn out.
The details of the night are compressed in my memory, with an overall recollection of staring out from the balcony, grinding my teeth, focused on the songs, our high, and the progress of the tape deck. I remember the shared endeavor of guessing each new Dead song as it began to emerge from the chords of the preceding, with a celebratory whoop at particular favorites. I recall the buzz all day about what stunt Bill Graham has planned for midnight and then seeing Bill riding a giant joint on a cable across the hall.
Exhaustion coupled with a night of controlled substance consumption resulted in a strange sense of detachment.
I guess the third set must have begun about 3:30 or 4 a.m. Exhaustion coupled with a night of controlled substance consumption resulted in a strange sense of detachment. I walked around the hall and moved through the crowd of characters, watching, listening and absorbing the weird scene. The line into the bathroom was particularly memorable, crowded together, sharing the relative quiet of the hall and the mundane bodily demands, while Deadheads of all descriptions and intoxications flowed by.
The end of the show was almost a relief, both ecstatic and melancholy. We all knew this was the finish of the epic concert so long anticipated; yet I was almost numb from the drugs and fatigue. The wooden structure of Winterland resonated with the stomping of thousands of feet, almost like a living thing, woken up by the frenzy of the crowd at the end. It shook and boomed and reverberated like some giant instrument I had never experienced.
The collective spasm of the crowd applauding and crying out for another song was intense. I remember when the last encore was over, and the lights came up, we were treated to the odd experience of breakfast food distributed in the halls, and eating, though I wasn’t hungry. I remember walking out of the hall into the early morning light, suddenly chilly and bewildered and slightly glum at the prospect of the New Year beginning on the ordinary gray streets outside the hall.
~ J.J.