Ray Bradbury Returns
My wife and I moved recently, on Christmas Eve of all things. In geographical distance, the move was less than a mile. But it was still a lot of work and there’s always more stuff to pack than you realize and more challenges setting up a new home than you remember.
But we’re pretty well settled in now. We’ve thrown away some old things, purchased a few new ones, and have finally managed to find a place for everything else. One thing I’m excited about is my new work studio, where I’ve been able to combine all of my creative doings in one place.
You may have noticed some of the art on the walls, which I’ve finally been able to hang in one place. I’ll talk about the photos on the right in a future post, but I wanted to give you a better look at the broadside now hanging over my desk. It’s a poem by Ray Bradbury, entitled THE POET CONSIDERS HIS RESOURCES. I purchased this particular piece just before I graduated from UCLA back in 1982.
My last year in college, I worked at Houle Rare Books & Autographs, a bookshop on the west side of Los Angeles (somewhere near Westwood Blvd and West Pico for you Angelenos). True to its name, the owner specialized in first editions, signed editions, monographs and other collectible volumes of literature. The Ray Bradbury piece was one of the items he had in the shop. I was a Bradbury fan, so when I knew I’d be graduating and moving back to San Diego I offered to buy it. The owner gave me a special deal on the piece. If memory serves, the store’s price was $125 and I got it for $75, but that was a long time ago.
Once I’d settled back in my hometown, I gave the piece to my Mom, as a thank you for helping me get through college (I paid my living expenses; she helped with tuition). I was a big Bradbury fan and he’d actually visited my Mom’s house once for some kind of book club event (sadly I wasn’t there, but I’ve seen the photos).
When Mom passed a few years ago, I took possession of the piece again. And now I’ve found a perfect place for it. I can review it every day when I sit down to write in my new studio. As you’ll see if you read below, it’s a perfect bit of inspiration for us scribblers. Did I mention I got my B.A. in Creative Writing/Poetry?
Corey is (was) a Punk Rocker
A friend recently sent me a link to this auction item at Wright Auctions. It’s a flyer from 1979, designed for the hardcore LA punk band Black Flag. And what band is listed in the third spot for Thurs Oct. 25?
It’s The P-15s. My band at the time. Well gosh, that brings back a lot of memories. Unfortunately none of them involve this particular gig as I don’t remember playing on the same bill as Black Flag and Red Cross (who changed the spelling to Red Kross in 1984). Of course neither of them were influential rock acts at the time. We were all just having a good time—kids rocking out, writing and performing our songs at dozens of Los Angeles clubs.
There was no social media in 1979. One way bands could promote themselves was to make a bunch of cheap flyers announcing their gigs and distributing them wherever they could—record stores, coffee shops and the like. I’ll never forget on first arriving in LA, seeing flyers for The Knack stapled on every telephone pole along West Olympic Boulevard (or maybe it was West Pico). Shortly afterwards, “My Sharona” went to #1 on the pop charts. Every band in town started putting up flyers.
And this Black Flag flyer? It just sold at auction for $1,134. Wait. What? Do I have any old fliers in storage? Are they worth a thousand bucks?
Probably not. Most band’s flyers just listed the name of the band, with a crappy two-tone photo and some performance dates. Black Flag had Raymond Pettibon, guitarist Greg Ginn’s younger brother. He did the art for their flyers, as well as most of the art for SST Records. And now, forty-five years later, his flyers are collectible, punk rock artifacts. As Pettibon himself noted in a 1984 Los Angeles Times article:
“It’ll happen like it did in the ‘60s with the psychedelic posters. Once these kids start growing up and making money, it’ll be a way of recapturing their past. But at that point the art becomes dead. It’s just artifacts.”
I’m not paying a thousand bucks for one of these things but it’s cool to be a small part of a valued artifact. Historical proof of my punk rock credentials (although The P-15s were more power pop) and a reminder of a great adventure.
And what of Pippin’s, the dank little club where we played (they were all dank little clubs). Today it’s a yuppie wine bar called Bodega. The revolution moves on. As do we.
The President’s Visit
I’m reading a manuscript which came my way rather mysteriously a few years ago. It’s a fascinating first-person account of events which took place in San Diego in April of 1891. I can’t discuss the details yet but I am in discussion with interested parties about publishing an annotated edition of the story.
There are some historical events mentioned in the book that I can tell you about, such as the first visit to San Diego by a sitting President of the United States, which occurred on April 23, 1891. That president was Benjamin Harrison.
Harrison was not the most notable of presidents, serving only one term from 1899 to 1893. But for San Diegans of the time, it was a memorable visit. As the San Diego Union reported:
Since the news first came that the nation’s chief executive would confer upon this people the unusual honor of a visit, the leading men and women of San Diego have wasted no time in getting ready to receive their expected guest in fitting style. As a result the city today is decked out in a holiday attire of the national colors; the wall of her principal buildings are hidden behind masses of gay-hued bunting, and every flag is flying triumphantly from the very top of its staff.
The president’s visit was part of a cross-country railroad tour sponsored by railroad magnate Leland Stanford.
The Presidential train will arrive at the depot at 6:30 in the morning. President Harrison will not alight from his special train on his arrival in the city this morning but will be carried on through National City, around the peninsula and directly to the Coronado hotel, where he will have breakfast.*
After breakfasting at the Hotel Del Coronado with guests that included California Governor Henry H. Markham and Baja California Governor Luis E. Torres, Harrison returned by boat across the bay and spoke to a large crowd gathered at Horton Plaza. Then it was back on the train to continue his tour.
The president’s short time in San Diego left a lasting impression. He is reported to have told future President William Taft, “One who has ever breathed this atmosphere would want to live here always.” San Diegans today can still relate.
*Irene Phillips, “Diaries of Frank A. Kimball, California Pioneer, Excerpts and Comments.”
World of Fire
Environmental destruction, climate change, war, epidemics, homelessness, drug addiction. Sometimes the disasters pile up in our brains like a toxic dump. And when a personal crisis intersects with societal catastrophe, it can feel like there’s no way out. Like you’re living in a world of fire.
I don’t remember the specific events that inspired this song, but I was imagining a TV war correspondent whose personal life has gone to hell while he’s covering a revolution in some Latin American country (it was written during the days of Contras and Noriega). Working with the band, we gave it a moody, cinematic arrangement—impassioned vocals, screaming slide guitar and stormy sound effects. Available on Apple Music and Spotify.
In the green glow, I have seen
Dying children, broken dreams
Burning bottles, needle of pain
And I wonder why I remain
In this world of fire
World of fire
Blood and chicken, beans and rice
Open windows late at night
I remember your white knees
As you fell away from me
In this world of fire
World of fire
Credits:
Written by Corey L Fayman and recorded at Studio 3, San Diego, CA
Bruce Fayman – lead vocals
Judy Jackson – lead vocals
Ken Rash – guitar and slide guitar
Corey Fayman – keyboards
Mike Borman – Drums
Cliff Morse – Bass
The Guitars of Rolly Waters: Gibson ES-335
As you may know, the protagonist of my Rolly Waters Mystery series is a guitar-playing private detective named Rolly Waters. He performs regularly in the San Diego area and the books provide bits of guitar lore and technical information about the guitars that he plays.
Rolly can be fickle about his guitar choices. He keeps a half-dozen in his house at any given time, buys new ones, sells old ones and ocassionaly uses one as a weapon. For readers who don’t know the difference between a Stratocaster and Telecaster, here’s the first entry in what will be a regular (and somewhat random) series of posts about Rolly’s guitars.
In the first book, Black’s Beach Shuffle, a cherry-red Gibson ES-335 plays a starring role. Below is an example of that guitar model.
The Gibson ES-335 was the music industry’s very first semi-hollow electric guitar. What does that mean? Well the easiest way to explain it is to say that almost every acoustic guitar you’ve seen has a hollowbody and almost every electric guitar you’ve seen has a solidbody. The ES-335 is a combination of both. It merges a hollowbody’s warm acoustic tones with the amplified power of a solidbody guitar.
This combination makes the ES-335 an extremely versatile guitar that can be used in a wide variety of musical ways, from B.B. King’s stinging blues notes to Larry Carlton’s jazzy solos to Alex Lifeson’s prog rock riffs. Which is precisely why Rolly brings his ES-335 along in the opening chapters of Black’s Beach Shuffle. He’s playing at a private party, not one of his usual club dates. Unusual conditions may, and do, apply to this gig, as readers will discover. He’ll need the ES-335’s versatility.
A brand new ES-335 will cost you around $3,000 today. Vintage models like the cherry red one here can go for as much as $30,000. Below is some more info on the ES-335, for those who want to learn more. As for the fate of Rolly’s Cherry Red ES-335, you’ll need to read Black’s Beach Shuffle for that.