From Rome to the Rainbow

It was the fall of 1981 and I was in Europe playing tennis tournaments. My friends in Maryland got a letter to me saying they heard the Dead were coming to Europe. I scrambled and found the dates and locations. They were playing 4 shows in London. Since as I was going to see them 5 times in France and Germany later in their tour, I decided, unfortunately, to skip the London shows to make a statement that I was serious about my tennis. The problem with this was that, in London, I would have been treated like a king because friends of my brother's lived there and would have rolled out the red carpet. So off to Greece I went for a tournament on the island of Rhodos. I figured if I had to miss shows, at least I was going to be hanging out in the Greek isles. 

I was staying in Nice, France with friends. I took off on the train with my first class Eurail pass and stopped in Livorno, Italy to visit people I had met on my journey. The next day when I got on the train to go to Rome to catch another train to Brindisi to catch the ferry to Athens, it was raining incredibly hard. I didn't think much about it until the train stopped for a long time at a station outside Rome. Not speaking Italian I didn't know what was happening. Suddenly everyone was getting off the train. Here the tracks had been flooded and we needed to take a bus to get to Rome. This took forever and I ended up missing my connecting train to Brindisi. I had to call the tournament in Greece to tell them I would be a day late. This turned out to be a giant problem. At that time you needed to go into the telephone office to be able to call out of the country. There was a long line in the Rome train station that day. I tried once to get through, but had no luck. I got back in line an hour later and tried again, still no luck getting through. Finally another hour later I got through and found out the tournament had been canceled. Depression immediately set in. Here I was in Rome when I could have been in London. I got a hotel room and tried to figure out what to do. Being an eternal optimist, in the middle of my depression I started calculating when the shows were, and if there was any chance to get to London in time. The boys were playing the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 6th of October. It was now the 3rd. Suddenly my depression lifted. I figured I could leave Rome in the morning and get to Nice in time to take a night train to Paris, arriving there on the morning of the 5th. I could leave Paris the morning of the 6th and get to London that night to see the last show. I was ecstatic. 

As I left Paris it was raining hard again. Everything went fine until I got to Calais on the French coast. There was a maritime strike and the ferries were not operating to London. Fortunately, for some reason, the hydrofoils or hovercraft, were not on strike. I floated across the English Channel arriving in Dover in the late afternoon and getting the train into London. Once at the train station I went to the information booth and looked behind the counter for the youngest person. I told him I was here to see the Grateful Dead, and did he know where they were playing. He didn't, but said it had to be one of 2 places. He called the Rainbow Theatre and found they were there. He was then kind enough to show me how to take the underground to get to the show. I arrived at the Rainbow at 5:30. Showtime was 7. I tentatively went up to the ticket window and, thinking that the show was probably sold out, I asked how I could get a ticket. The person said, just pay for one there. Now I was really excited. I'd made it! I went inside and the place was nearly empty. I sauntered up to the rail on Brent's side, stage left, because there were already people on Jerry's side. There I was on the rail at the Rainbow. After a while I struck up a conversation with someone there and asked if they knew anyone who was helping with people's inspiration. They said to look for the Welsh mushroom man. I went around looking for him until I heard someone saying, "mushrooms, mushrooms." I said to him, "are you from Wales?" and he said yes I am. Back at my spot on the rail. I was now ready for the show. The boys came out and went into Shakedown Street. It was a strong rendition, but I was actually so close that the main speakers were behind me. The sound was passing me by so it was, less than optimal, but still great. I decided to stay there until the end of the set. After Shakedown they segued into Minglewood, and from there into a beautiful Must Have Been The Roses. A little later on Jerry did Althea, and then later to close the first set they did a rare Cumberland, into Looks Like Rain, it was still raining, and closed it out with a raucous Might As Well. A great start. Now it was time to find a good seat in the balcony for the second set. The thing about the Rainbow is that it is one of those classic old theatres like the Warfield in San Francisco or the Warner in Washington, DC, or the Beacon in Boston. Great, intimate place to see a show. 

Up to the balcony I climbed. It was really turning into one of "those" nights. On may way up I thought that I would like to sit in the second or third row in the middle. Hoping for this, but not expecting such fortune, I looked around in the semi darkness and saw one empty seat, dead center in the 3rd row. I asked the people on either side if the seat was available and they said no one had sat there during the first set. Oh boy, here we go. The boys returned, opening with Man Smart, Woman Smarter. They had only been playing this for the last couple of months so it was the first time I'd seen it. It was very fun. From this point on the show went to another level. Jerry came out with one of the best versions I've ever heard of High Time. It is one of the few versions that actually has a solo in it. It was beautiful. Find a copy of it if you can. Two lines in the song especially stood out for me this night. First the song opens with "You told me good-bye, how was I to know, you didn't mean good-bye, you meant please don't let me go." In some strange way this seemed to be a reference to my opting to go play tennis instead of coming to London for the shows. The second line that really hit me was "come on in when it's raining, go on out when it's gone." I knew immediately that it would not be raining when I left the show. From there Bobby went into a great Estimated Prophet, which Jerry segued into He's Gone. Now I like He's Gone, but there are many other songs that I would rather hear. I didn't know until later why that was the right song to play. After this Mickey and Billy took over. When the rest of the boys came back out for space, it was feeling very spooky. I then heard them doing this dirge like thing. I knew I had heard it before, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It kept being repeated. A big light went off in my head when I realized that they were playing Blues For Allah. I was so excited, because they had only played it 3 times live, and not since 1975. This was big, I turned to the people next to me and told them that I didn't know what was happening, but whatever they did the rest of the way was going to be amazing because they were playing Blues For Allah now. I was right. They went into a beautiful Wheel, which surprisingly went into Sugar Magnolia. Now I was a little confused and scared, could it be this was the last song before the encore. I certainly hoped not, but Sugar Mag does often close the show. The forces were just messing with me again. Jerry went into a powerful, long Stella Blue which Bobby took into a joyful Good Lovin' to close the show. Unbelievable second set. Jerry came out and played a transcendent Brokedown Palace to send us on our way. Wow. "Fare you well my honey, fare you well my 
only true love."

Feeling like I had had a religious conversion I wandered into the streets. Sure enough, not only was it not raining, the stars were out. I was staying in a "blue light cheap hotel" and since the bars close early in London, I slowly made my way back to the room. I sat down and proceeded to write letters to my friends back the States telling them of my experience. The next morning I woke up to blue skies in London, and we've all heard what a rarity that can be. As I was walking down the street I saw a newspaper rack. All the papers had the same headline. Anwar Sadat had been assassinated. Bingo. That's why they played He's Gone and did the Blues For Allah jam. When things like that happen you know why the Grateful Dead will forever be, "the band beyond description."
Many happy trails,
Brent Zeller

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