One afternoon at my home in L.A., the doorbell rang. Standing on my doorstep was 88-year-old, Harry "The Horse" Danning, the four-time all-star catcher for the New York Giants of the 1930s. (They were World Champs in 1933 and National League Champs in 1936 and 1937, with players such as Mel Ott, Carl Hubbell, Bill Terry and Travis Jackson.) Danning had written a letter for one of my Baseball Letters books and promised to drop by when in L.A. (his hometown).

He came into my house, this hulking man, and sat down in my big, red retro 1960s chair. I asked him if I could film his reminiscences. I had a ton of questions, loving baseball history as I do. He said, "Sure."

He then proceeded to talk about being the man behind the plate when Lou Gehrig hit his final World Series home run and when Joe Dimaggio hit his first one. He was also behind the plate when Ted Williams won the 1941 all-star game with a towering blast. (He was still upset that pitcher Claude Passeau didn't throw the pitch that Danning wanted him to!)

He told personal stories of Jimmie Foxx, Dizzy Dean and his colorful Gas House Gang Cardinals and poor Willard Herschberger, who took his own life three days after one of Danning's home runs beat Hershberger's Reds.

He described card games on the long, yet relaxing train rides, being one of four Jewish players on the Giants in those years and how he didn't even know his own real last name!

It was an amazing afternoon, an old man telling a young man the "way that it was." The day was capped when I showed him his jersey from 1941 that I had in my collection. He signed it, "Harry 'The Horse' Danning."

A few years later, I opened the New York Times to see that Danning had passed away at the age of 93. I realized then that he was the last Giant from those 1930s championship teams to pass away. I remembered the footage that I took of him and started to re-watch it. I decided to make it into a small movie as a memento of that afternoon and something that I could give to Danning's family. I interspliced some rare photos and films of Harry taken during his playing days, along with Al Jolsen's version of I'm Just Wild About Harry.

I titled the short film The Last Giant. Incredibly, it was just chosen as a Finalist for the D.C. International Film Festival to be held in March, 2007.

As a collector of historic baseball memorabilia, I love being around all-things historic when it comes to the game of baseball and I was certainly surrounded by it when I was fortunate enough to spend a few hours with "The Horse," Harry Danning.

I wrote the songs for my album, Instant Pleasure (2004), in a number of different ways. For example, I had recently been to a used book store (I love them!) and bought an old paperback called Conversations With Artists (1961). It was a compendium of interviews with famous and not-so famous artists of the first half of the 20^th century, put together by Seldon Rodman. One of the artists who had granted an interview was Herman Cherry (1909 - 1992). I was quite taken by his name and started to read his interview as I picked up my acoustic guitar. Herman was a short man with a walrus mustache, who loved to dance. He was also known for smoking cigars.

All of a sudden, the chorus of a song about him just came to my mind:

Herman Cherry is a very tiny man,
A walrus mustache and an ever-present cigar.
He can jitterbug with the very best of them,
Herman Cherry is a very tiny man.

As I read more about Herman, more of the lyrics just fell into place.

A painting by Herman Cherry.

About a year after my album was released, I received an email from a woman named Regina Cherry, Herman's wife! She had googled her husband's name and up it came in many reviews of my album. She said that she was very flattered that someone would write a song about him after all these years and wondered if I would I send her a copy of the album. She also invited me to a retrospective of her husband's works at the prestigious David Findlay Gallery in Manhattan.

Of course, I was surprised and delighted to hear from her and told her so in my return email. I sent her my album the next day.

About a week later, I received another email from her saying that she had received my album and loved the song about her husband. She happened to live next door to the lead singer of a band that I very much liked, Travis. She said that he loved the song as well.

I never did get to the Herman Cherry retrospective, but it was greatly satisfying that his wife had enjoyed and appreciated the song that I wrote about him.

See some of Herman Cherry's paintings.

See Herman Cherry's New York Times obituary.

P.S. I contacted the eclectic Selden Rodman in 2000. He was 90 at the time. I sent him my copy of his book, which he kindly autographed for me.

Related Links:
Instant Pleasure (2004)]]> http://www.seth.com/stories/herman_cherry_is_a_very_tiny_man.html http://www.seth.com/stories/herman_cherry_is_a_very_tiny_man.html Fri, 02 May 2008 13:10:13 -0800 function init() {activar(24);}

In May of 2006, I was asked by an editor at the HuffingtonPost.com to write some articles for the popular online news and opinion site. One of my first pieces was a political piece entitled "Why I Left The Left." It got a tremendous response and was, subsequently, featured on many other sites, including RealClearPolitics.com and Yahoo.

Based on the success of my first article, I continued to write political pieces. A few weeks after my first piece was published, I received an email from the Undersecretary of Commerce, Frank Lavin, who complimented my work and said that if I was ever in Washington D.C., maybe we could have lunch. I told him that I was scheduled to go to Washington a few weeks from that date. Soon after, I received an email from Lavin asking if I'd like to have lunch in the West Wing of the White House with him and Karl Rove. Did he mean Karl Rove, the near-mythic architect of so many political victories? I was intrigued.

A few days later, I received another email invitation asking me to lunch at the White House with Lavin and Rove on July 20th at 12 noon. The Undersecretary asked me to come by his office first so that we could walk to the White House together.

Of course, I called all of my friends, where the news mostly didn't compute. The typical response that I received was, "What do you mean you're having lunch at the White House with Karl Rove?" Some people imagined that he liked my writings and was possibly looking for someone to replace the president's main speechwriter, Michael Gerson (who has the same last name as my wife, but is not a relative). I speculated as well, but did not have a clue as to the real reason that lead to my invitation.

I flew to D.C. with my 11-year-old son Julian. On the morning of my lunch date, I worked out early in the hotel's gym, as I wanted to be totally sharp for this unique event. Then, I put on my new suit and went to the Department of Commerce to meet Undersecretary Lavin, who greeted me warmly and gave me these special coins made by the Commerce Department. He told me how much he had enjoyed my articles and promptly cleared up the wild speculation about my visit stating that he had noticed in my bio that I am a songwriter and explained that every once in a while, he liked to invite interesting people from outside the beltway to the White House. Cool.

A little nervous waiting to meet Lavin and Rove at The White House.

Lavin, who insisted that I call him Frank, and I walked (seemingly for me, on air) the one block to the White House and entered one of the guard booths where the Undersecretary showed his credentials and joked with guards, who he obviously knew. Then, we walked in the front entrance of the West Wing. It was incredibly exciting. As we waited for Rove, Lavin introduced me to Budget Director David Portman, who was there with his wife. I had seen him on Fox News the night before and congratulated him on his informative appearance. He was very appreciative and I thought to myself, maybe these guys are so often interviewed that no one bothers to tell them how good they were, or weren't.

A couple of minutes passed and then Rove walked into the mess hall waiting area. He had on a black suit and thin blue tie and I remembered thinking how much thinner he looked in person. We were introduced and headed down the 10 stairs into the very small, but elegant White House mess where we sat at a table against the wall. Almost immediately, the new Secretary of the Treasury, Henry Paulson, and the National Security Advisor, Steven Hadley, came over to our table to say hello to Rove and Lavin. We were introduced and I remember that the moment had a surreal, almost Forrest Gump, nature. This realization was followed by the thought, "What am I doing here having lunch and meeting the movers and shakers of the free world?"

Lavin mentioned to Rove that I was a songwriter and that I had had a number of books published. Karl mentioned that he had read many of my political pieces and enjoyed them very much. Again, I thought to myself, "I'm having lunch in the White House with Karl Rove, who is telling me that he reads my articles? Okay."

The menu from lunch that day.

Rove is a very nice, warm and funny guy. He was genuinely interested in the new documentary project that I am working on called, A Year In The Life. He got a kick out of the fact that I had interviewed former First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson for the project. He insisted that I order the special of the day, a Mexican dish. Then, he jokingly picked up a plate and told me, "You can't leave the White House without taking something." He asked the waiter if there was a souvenir or two that he could give me. The waiter brought back a menu from that afternoon and an official White House box of M&Ms with the presidential seal on it.

After about an hour and 10 minutes, Rove's attractive assistant, Taylor, came in to tell him that he was needed back at his office. When I read the newspaper the next day, I learned that Rove went from our lunch to President Bush's meeting with the NAACP. Taylor joined us for dessert. I asked her if she was affected when she went home at night and turned on CNN, only to see them consistently bashing the people she works for and with. She said she wasn't particularly fazed by it.

That's the feeling that I received from the people that I met in the West Wing. There was great camaraderie, and the vibe was of both a dynamic and pleasant place to work. You could tell that the people who worked there liked each other.

After lunch, Taylor took Lavin and I back to Rove's office where I saw Rove's autograph from his idol, the 25th president, William McKinley. I could see the Oval Office. The door was closed, but the president was in there. I also saw Vice President Cheney's corner office. Black-and-white photographs of the president and vice president, individually and with others, adorned the walls.

Rove showed me the reception area where the heads of state wait before their meetings with the president. We exited out of the front of the West Wing where I noticed a microphone set-up. Frank told me that that was where the network correspondents received updates from the White House.

Rove and I said goodbye and I thanked him for the incredible thrill that I had just experienced.

During our meeting, Rove mentioned that he and his wife Darby enjoyed baseball. I promised to send him my latest book and I received this nice note from him a short while later.

All in all, my impromptu lunch at the White House was among the most memorable experiences of my life.

]]>

Click to enlarge

I've just gotten back from interviewing Brian Wilson for my documentary project called A Year In The Life. What a nice, nice guy. He's tall.

I always prepare for my interviews, having all the questions typed out in advance because you know something on the video camera won't work or the sound will have static or something.

When I entered Wilson's house, he was on the steps of a long stairway. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and came down to shake my hand and say, "Hello." I told him that I had written with one of his daughters, Wendy, when she was in Wilson Phillips.

For the interview, we went into his piano room. This room contains his Grammy Awards, a ton of gold records, a small keyboard set-up over a chair and a piano. It is very informal and non-ostentatious, just like a room in a typical American home.

Before the interview started, Wilson told me that he had a singing lesson later that afternoon with the famous singing coach, Seth Riggs. I thought, "Wow, Brian Wilson, one of the voices of the 1960s, takes singing lessons. Amazing."

The first question that I asked him was about the day he met Paul McCartney. He remembered that it was at Abbey Road studios in England in 1967. He said that it was during the Sgt. Pepper sessions and that McCartney wanted to play him a new song that he had just written. McCartney then sat down at the piano and played Wilson She's Leaving Home. Now, every time that I hear that song, I'll be reminded that one of the first people to hear it, in its starkest form, was one of the other superior melodists of his time, Brian Wilson.

I asked Wilson whether he knew that Sir George Martin, The Beatles producer, didn't do the gorgeous string arrangement for that song. (He had for all of the other Beatles songs.) He couldn't believe it. I told him that McCartney, so excited to score his new creation with strings, asked Martin to do it, but Martin had another session booked, so, McCartney asked Mike Leander to do it instead. McCartney knew that you had to attack creativity when you were in the midst of it. You shouldn't be patient when you want to record. You must get your enthusiasm for your new song out at that particular moment. That's what gives a song its feel, the excitement of the writer creating it for the first time.

Wilson answered a number of other questions and, then, the interview was over. His publicist, Jean, shot a picture of he and I and then Brian said, "Take another." Like I said, a very nice guy.

I had read that he had played baseball in high school, so I gave him a copy of my third book, Something to Write Home About and signed it: "To Brian Wilson, Thank you for the immeasurable joy you've brought the world." A fun experience to have in the middle of an L.A. afternoon.

Related links: See my books

]]> http://www.seth.com/stories/interviewing_brian_wilson.html http://www.seth.com/stories/interviewing_brian_wilson.html Fri, 02 May 2008 12:48:10 -0800 function init() {activar(22);}

One morning, after my first book, Baseball Letters, came out, I received a call from a woman named Debbie Bosanek who said that she was calling on behalf of Warren Buffett. I'm thought to myself, "THE Warren Buffett? The stock-picking, living legend and second wealthiest man in America, Warren Buffett?" She then told me that Buffett was having his annual golf event with 20 of his favorite major league baseball player friends (Bob Gibson, Brooks Robinson, etc.) and wanted to know how much it would cost to buy 20 personally signed copies Baseball Letters from me.

Of course, I got the books, signed them and sent them in time for Warren's party. A few days later, I received this check in the mail from him. Funny, huh?

Because of our love of baseball, Warren and I stayed in touch by mail. Every once in a while, he would ask me to send a signed copy of my book to one of his friends. I remember signing one for the great songwriter, Marvin Hamlisch.

The follow-up to Baseball Letters is Every Pitcher Tells A Story (1999, Times Books), which consists of handwritten letters from (mostly) pitchers. I asked Warren, who is the pitcher on his company team, known as Warren "The Whip," if he would write a letter for the book, comparing the art of pitching and the art of stock picking. You can read his letter here as it appeared in the book.

Warren's letter also found its way into the definitive biography of his life and work, Of Permanent Value, The Story of Warren Buffett by Andrew Kilpatrick (1999).

Related links: See my books

On the day after 9/11, Russian President Vladmir Putin issued a statement condemning the attacks, calming fears that perhaps Russia had been involved. The next day, I wrote him a letter saying how much I, and, I suppose, many U.S. citizens, appreciated his demeanor during those scary first hours after the attack.

One month later, I was in a taxi in New York City when my cell phone rang. A heavily accented voice asked, "Is this Mr. Seversky?" I said, "Yes, this is Seth Swirsky." The voice continued, "My name is Nikolay Lyashchenko. I'm calling from the Russian embassy in San Francisco. President Putin wanted me to contact you directly. He was very appreciative of your letter to him and wanted me to call to thank you for it personally." Needless to say, I was surprised. Nikolay and I stayed in touch after that phone call and when he and his wife, Knesia, were in L.A. a year later, we had a small dinner party on their behalf, where they gave me this nice gift from Russia. ]]> http://www.seth.com/stories/comrade_putin_and_me.html http://www.seth.com/stories/comrade_putin_and_me.html Fri, 02 May 2008 12:32:32 -0800 function init() {activar(20);}

In the summer of 2004, I was at LAX, about 40 minutes from boarding a plane to Paris, when I spotted the actor Peter Fonda. I remembered that something he had said spurred John Lennon to write one of my favorite rockers, She Said, She Said from Revolver (1966). I asked Fonda if the story was true and he was very happy to recall the story:

The Beatles were staying in a house in Benedict Canyon in L.A., where there were lots of incredible parties and lots of LSD. As Peter recalled, he was "tripping" with John (Paul wasn't present at the time) and a number of other people (Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, etc.). He said to Lennon, "You know, I know what it's like to be dead," referring to the time he had been hit by a car in his childhood and almost killed.

Although, I later read that Lennon had been annoyed that Fonda kept him this story over and over, the story stuck in his mind and Lennon wrote a song called He Said, He Said, which he later changed to She Said, She Said. The lyric, "She said, I know what it's like to be dead...," is based on a portion of Fonda's story. Peter got a great kick retelling the story and kept mentioning how many incredibly pretty girls were at that party.

In 1999, I was in a greenroom getting ready to be interviewed as part of the book tour for my second book, Every Pitcher Tells Story, when, unexpectedly, Donn Clendenon, former Miracle Mets team member and the Most Valuable Player of the 1969 World Series, walked in. After we were introduced, I asked if I could see his MVP World Series ring. He said, "Sure," took off the ring and handed it to me. Knowing that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I asked if I could try on the ring. He said, "Of course." Wearing that ring caused me to flashback to my childhood.

I was nine in that perfect summer of 1969. Back then, I lived for The Beatles, Mets, Jets and Knicks. That sounds funny, but it's true. I LOVED music and sports (and TV). When I played shortstop for my summer camp team, I would put a small, black transistor radio at my feet. Every time our pitcher threw a ball, I'd pick up the radio to try to catch what was going on in the Mets game that day. Al Weis or Rod Gaspar would always get a key hit and the Mets would win. There were a lot of day games in baseball back then as it's a much better game in the day than at night.

In 2004, I googled May Pang, hoping to find out what John Lennon's girlfriend from his "Lost Weekend" period (1973-1975) was up to. The results took me to her site where I learned that she now sells jewelry. I e-mailed her and we had a nice e-mail chat. It turned out that she was in music publishing in the '80s and knew me as a songwriter. She said that she'd be coming out to Los Angeles and that maybe we could meet for coffee.

Click to enlarge

When we met, we started talking about life in general and the music business in particular. I had just read her book, The Lost Weekend, about her L.A. romance with Lennon. She told me that she had almost succeeded in getting Lennon and Paul McCartney back together in 1975, when Lennon had expressed a real interest in hooking up with his old partner in New Orleans (where McCartney would eventually record Venus And Mars). Despite this, she said, Lennon walked out on their romance and went back to Yoko.

Pang showed me some fabulous never-before-seen lithographs that Lennon had drawn of her and their time together, as well as some great photographs that she had taken. Lennon looked very happy and relaxed and Pang confirmed that they had a wonderful time together in L.A. She said that Mick Jagger always came over for Chinese food (Lennon's favorite was sweet and sour soup), Linda and Paul McCartney would visit often, and John and Paul often had impromptu jam sessions.

After our four hour coffee, Pang gave me a beautiful necklace that she had made. Check out her cool jewelry at www.maypang.com.]]> http://www.seth.com/stories/a_day_in_la_with_may.html http://www.seth.com/stories/a_day_in_la_with_may.html Fri, 02 May 2008 12:19:00 -0800 function init() {activar(17);}

Chuck Negron

In 1993, I was at a restaurant with my wife Jody in Brentwood, CA when I looked over at a couple walking in. "That's Chuck Negron from the group Three Dog Night," I said. "He sang lead on all of the big hits from the early 70s, like Joy to the World, Well I've Never Been To Spain and so many more."

I was in 5th grade when Three Dog Night ruled the charts. I had to say thank you to Negron for his great and memorable music. After introducing myself, I told him how wonderful he made so many people feel with his talent. He told me that after Three Dog Night broke up, he had ended up homeless, addicted to heroin and living on Skid Row in Los Angeles, but that he had cleaned up his act and was ready to record again. The only problem, he said, was that he didn't have any representation. I told him that I'd call a manager that I knew and we exchanged phone numbers. However, I figured that would be the last time I would hear from him.

Seven years later, I was browsing in a bookstore when I saw a book that Negron had written about his incredible life called Three Dog Nightmare. Flipping through the pages, I was astonished to see the following on page 314.

Negron ended up connecting with Mazer and continuing to make music. I was thrilled to learn that I had been a part of Three Dog Night's history (in some minute way) and appreciated that Negron acknowledged me in his autobiography.

Abraham Lincoln's very pretty mother, Nancy Hanks.

I've always loved history, especially the little factoids that you can discover. The best is when I retain a fact and use it in the timeliest manner.

In 1991, my wife Jody and I were out to dinner at the Ameche restaurant in Los Angeles with friends. Surprisingly, they saw their friends, Tom Hanks and, his wife, Rita Wilson, and asked them to join us, which they did. I remembered that the only "Hanks" that I had ever heard of was Abraham Lincoln's mother, Nancy Hanks. When I asked Tom if he was related to her, he seemed stunned. He put down his fork and said: "How did you know who she was?" Then, he told me that he was directly related to her. "Aha!" I thought. Now, wouldn't it be cosmically correct if he, one day, played Lincoln in a movie. Hmm...]]> http://www.seth.com/stories/tom_hanks_and_abe_lincoln.html http://www.seth.com/stories/tom_hanks_and_abe_lincoln.html Fri, 02 May 2008 12:08:07 -0800 function init() {activar(15);}

Click to enlarge

In 2004, I recorded and released my first CD, Instant Pleasure. Shortly thereafter, I got a call from David Bash, the organizer of the International Pop Overthrow Music Festival (IPO), who asked me if I wanted to play at the festival. When he told me that the festival was scheduled to occur at The Cavern Club in Liverpool, the place where The Beatles first played, I became very excited to say the least!

The day before my appearance, I flew into John Lennon Airport in Liverpool. The flight was horrible with driving rain and thick clouds, which made the plane swing up and down like a yo-yo. Despite this unpleasant trip, found amusement on the plane in the form of a group of Liverpudlian women who yelled "Whoa" everytime the plan went crazy.

The night before my performance, I went to the Cavern Club to hear some of the other bands from the festival play. There was a terrific band called The Afternoons from Cardiff, Wales, who performed straight-ahead pop music, which I dug.

Watching the bands, who played very well, made me somewhat uptight. I began wondering, "What am I doing here? I don't want to look like a fool playing my album acoustically." That night was a sleepless one and I seriously considered flying home.

Click to enlarge

The next morning, I rose early and caught a sightseeing bus tour of where each of The Beatles grew up. Although it was raining pretty steadily, I loved the raindrops drizzling on my head and had great moments of elation, contemplation and relaxation simply "feeling" the city of Liverpool.

The tour guide on the "Magical Mystery Tour" was a 60-something man named Eddie who knew The Beatles growing up. He agreed to let me film the tour and ask him some private questions. I titled my movie Magical Mystery Tourist. You can view it here.

Click to enlarge

Before I went to the Cavern that night, I practiced in front of my hotel mirror, but when I got up to do my set in front of the audience, my acoustic guitar wasn't mic'ing well, so I had to borrow one from another guitarist, which is like a baseball player borrowing a 34-ounce bat when he's used to swinging a 29-ouncer. Nevertheless, the set was great and I know that when I look back on this experience many years from now, it will give me a good feeling to say "I did that!"

Click to enlarge

Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the moon (on July 20, 1969), wrote me a letter describing what it would be like to throw a baseball on the moon. I included his handwritten letter in my third book, Something to Write Home About (Random House).

When the book was published in March of 2003, I wanted to present Aldrin with a personally signed copy. His secretary arranged for me to go to his apartment one day at 9 a.m. When I arrived, I was greeted by his lovely wife, Lois. As I waited at the dining room table, Buzz appeared in a sweatsuit and somewhat grumpily said "Hello" to me. I showed him his letter in my book and he sat down to read it. Then, he rose from the table, walked to his living room window and proceeded to look into his telescope. It was extremely bright in his living room as the sun was already blinding. "Buzz," Lois yelled to him, "it's too early in the morning to see the moon!"

After my visit, Lois invited my wife and I to a party at their apartment. We met a variety of individuals that night, but my favorite was Barbara Eden, the star of I Dream of Jeannie.]]> http://www.seth.com/stories/buzz_and_me.html http://www.seth.com/stories/buzz_and_me.html Fri, 02 May 2008 11:51:45 -0800 function init() {activar(13);}

In 1999, when my second book, Every Pitcher Tells a Story, came out, I went on a mini book promotion tour on which I participated in many interviews with radio shows such as those on NPR, TV shows like the Weekend Today Show and many major newspapers and magazines. At one stop, I was scheduled to meet a reporter for coffee to discuss my new book before he interviewed me for the Philadelphia Daily News, but as I was about to leave my hotel room for the interview, the phone rang. On the other end was a producer from Good Morning America who asked me if I could be at Shea Stadium at 8:00 a.m. the next morning because Charlie Gibson wanted to interview me. Obviously thrilled and more than a little nervous, I took down all of the information and ended up being a half an hour late to my interview with the Philadelphia reporter.

The interview with Gibson

After the interview with the Philadelphia reporter, I packed my bags, took a train to New York City and checked into a hotel. However, that night, I slept very little. Before I knew it, I was at Shea Stadium ready to do the biggest interview of my life. I met Gibson, a very nice guy, who told me that he wanted to do the interview on the mound, which he thought would make the perfect backdrop to the title of my book. The only problem was that the Mets' security didn't like the idea, so Gibson decided to interview me in the stands. All of a sudden, I heard someone from across the empty stadium yell, "Seth Swirsky?" It was a guy that I had gone to Dartmouth with, David Howard, who was then the Vice President of the Mets! On the spot, he permitted us to use the Shea Stadium mound for the interview. (You can see the interview in the SethPlayer.) Charlie was thrilled, but not as much as I was. Standing on the mound allowed me the chance to imagine who had pitched where I was standing, including Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman and Nolan Ryan, and to point out to Gibson where my father and I had sat during game four of the 1969 World Series. It was an exciting afternoon.

Bob Weir

In the spring of 1998, I was on vacation in Mexico with my wife, staying at a nondescript hotel, just kicking back with some pina coladas and good books. I had to go up to the front desk to get another room key when I recognized a familiar face: Bob Weir, guitarist and co-founder of the iconic rock group The Grateful Dead. I remembered the group was on Arista Records in the late '80s, when I was writing songs for many of Arista's artists. I introduced myself and mentioned a few probable common acquaintances. He said: "Why don't you and your wife join me and my wife for dinner?" After a great dinner, I asked Bob if he wanted to jam. I thought that playing Truckin' with Bob Weir would be a very cool thing to tell my Dead-loving friends. He told me that he had brought two guitars with him, his personal guitar as well as Jerry Garcia's favorite guitar, and that he'd meet me in my room. Ten minutes later, he walked in with two beautiful vintage guitars. As my wife read in bed, Bob and I went out on to the deck and played some blues, which actually lead to Truckin'. Then, he played me one of his new songs. I realized that guys like Weir just love music and simply want to play it with others anytime, anyplace. He was a terrific guy.