A Man of Responsibility

 

A Man of Responsibility

By Ralph J. Gleason

The San Francisco Examiner

December 8, 1974

Although I didn't go to see George Harrison's concert last month at the Cow Palace, there are some things I would like to say about it from the outside.  

To begin with, I have long since accepted the fact that you cannot have a concert of music at the Cow Palace and rarely at any of the other large halls.  You could have an event, an indoor be-in, a happening, but not a concert.  Acoustically engineering is not yet up to the task, and festival seating is a euphemism for" no place to sit." The inert bodies of the pill heads (whatever happened to grass?) represent a hazard that is even more acidic than physically annoying, and the continual hassles with the tight security are simply not worth the trouble. There are reasons for all of this, which are met for another discussion, but one might wish that the lessons of the '60s sociological research that restraint breeds resistance would be kept in mind.

 However, I would rather listen to the records, except when I have a chance to see someone I like in a small hall or club. It is true too that, almost universally, the reports on the Harrison concerts here and in Los Angeles were devastating. It might just be that one Beatle is only a man and not a particularly good entertainer at that. However, the point I want to make is more sociological than musical. 

One of the main points of the whole new wave of popular entertainers in music dating back to the mid 60s is that they had a sense of responsibility toward their community.  In their day, the San Francisco bands such as the Jefferson Airplane (and the new Jefferson Starship album is the best thing that clusters a talent that has produced in a long time) and the Quicksilver Messanger Service and the Grateful Dead were always willing to help out a good cause. They probably did more benefits than any other groups of musicians in the country, and they gave freely and willingly without cavil.

     They were, to some extent, at least taken advantage of by politicians and others  (remember Bobby Kennedy's abortive rock concert in the park?), but by and large, what they did was good and humane and indicated a deep sense of social responsibility, which I find totally absent from most of the newer groups on the scene. What George Harrison did when he appeared here was in the same order. Not only did Harrison give the proceeds of the concerts to the Haight Ashbury free medical clinic, and it was a lot of money, some $65,000, but he also did something even more impressive to me. He gave up his personal off-stage time, which is really rare.

     Harrison went out and visited the clinic the day after his first concert and spent two hours there talking to the volunteers, the low-paid staff, and the patients. That might not seem like much to some of us, but to a center of economic power such as Harrison, with agents and friends and all kinds of people pulling and tucking at him every waking moment, it represents something very special. 

    I wonder how much time any of our leading public servants, from the governor to the mayor, have spent with those clinic workers. Harrison's gesture was inspiring to the staff and volunteers. I'm sure of that without talking to a single one of them, it had to because of its rarity. Janis Joplin used to do that kind of thing because she thought of herself as part of that community, but few others have followed that example. 

    There is something further to be said for what Harrison did, too, and that is the possible effect it may have on other performers. Harrison is reported to have said he hoped to talk to other musicians and singers and get them interested in things like this, and I certainly hope he does. If there is one thing really needed in the aftermath of the collapse of the whole cultural revolt, it is some sense of responsibility for their community on the part of those who came from it and whose success and wealth have stemmed from its loyalty. The Haight Ashbury Medical Clinic has consistently been engaged for years now, and a really important kind of street-level care with no questions asked.

 For some perspective on the Harrison action, I think of the Rolling Stones, my own favorite for rock music, among with one or more other groups. As much as I admire the Stones artistically, I cannot excuse them for their failure to accept any responsibility for the debacle at Altamont, for the injured and the dead from that horrible affair. They have closed their eyes and their ears and shoved off all responsibility. What a nice gesture it would have been for them the last time they were in town to have given some money to the clinic and even visited it. They certainly have no greater need for profit than George Harrison. Long ago, I learned that just because someone is endowed by providence with great talent, it does not necessarily follow that he is a nice guy. By the same token, it does not follow that just because someone is a nice guy, he is talented. 

Talent and responsibility do not, unfortunately, go hand in hand, much as we might wish they did. But when the chips were down, George Harrison did a manly and humane thing. I don't care if his voice was rough and his performance boring; that is his personal problem, and perhaps personal tragedy, which time alone would allow us to judge and give the man his due. He crossed the street to help his fellow men, his fellow victims, if you will, of this crazy society, and in the doing, he set an example that might well be followed by his peers. I certainly hope that it will be followed. They could do a lot worse things with their time and money, and most of them do.