Church of the Good Earth 1963 and Beyond

Welcome aboard brother! I've only recently gotten myself back in here (not too good with these new fangled computer things), but now I'm here and reconnecting, and It feels like the magic is re-emerging! I am sooo thankful to Nailscakes, Ranger and the rest for putting this thing together and spreading the word about it. LET THE TALES BEGIN!! :cheers2: Cakes, you're right; there's something goin' on again, and it's time to share the love!

 

Hello my brothers and sisters;

Saturday morning I get a phone call and for the first time in soooo many years I hear Sag Darel's voice and I almost break down. Tears` of jpy. Mouse, Bill, Spud, Nails, Ranger, Steve Dana, Jehene, and all the rest of you, it is so good to be back in touch with the family. The signs are good and maybe in the midst of this country's chaos our reunion will provide us with the stability to survive the crises. I'm hoping we're all of a mind to putting some energy towards a get together in the near future.

Mouse good to hear from you again. I almost got out there to the Country Fair this year but I ran out of money and i couldn't get in touch with you. Next year maybe?. I wasn't putting Tony Serra down just stating that I tried unsuccessfully to get in touch with him. (I did flatter him in my attempts) He was real good to us and I not only appreciated it but was inspired by it. Mouse do you remember when I assisted you in reconnecting the electricity to Oak Street. The first time you just jumped the meter. The second time you went up on a ladder (with me behind to assist and resplice the wire that PS&G had cut from the pole to the house. It was the you taught me the Left Hand Rule i.e. "When working on a circuit that may be live, keep your left hand in your fucking pocket. PS when I read your post that mentioned Chaquis I was flooded with memories of that great 4 legged friend that just brought a great big smile to my ugly puss.

Bill, I know you're right about fiction being so expensive but I was thinking more on the order of our stories being acted out. In NYC with all of the acting schools getting young actors to perform in front of now affordable HD`video cameras in the manor of Cold Case files might be possible and very affordable. But I think your idea of the questionaries and a compilation of video responses is in any event a great first step. By the by, are you interested in receiving scripts and treatments that my clients sometimes share wiht me (As`an actor/director/attorney I get many frequests for advice and or to perform).

Nails your efforts prove that a famous movie quote is true "IF YOU BUILD IT THEY WILL COME."
IN A GREAT MOOD I SAY GOOD NIGHT
ZEV

 

Far fucking out, brother. Loved your vid. So cool. Others have said it but I'll join the chorus. Welcome home. NC you may be on to something here about regrouping. Zev, Mouse, I remember the electric hookup. That was outright ballsy but for some reason I wasn't worried. You seemed to know what you were doing. BTW Mouse, you remember when we went out to Playland and got that big rig of a something? I think it was some kind of giant wench or pulley or something mounted at the top of a big ass hole. Zev, your idea about fiction could come into play but I don't see it as a literal re-creation. People to play 'US' would be almost impossible to cast. Let me chew on that. About submitting to me, first, I've got more than one person can handle anyway and it's damn near impossible to get anyone to pay attention in the first place. However, I'm not saying no. Here's the deal, if the folks you know can say what it's about in 25 words or less, and, they know what the ending is, I'll take a look sure. Otherwise, no. Passion for storytelling is what it's about but without a clearcut vision it's just wishful thinking. Speaking of storytelling here is, as promised, one of my favorite Mouseman fables.

Mouse was crewing up the Enterprise to do a garbage run and was dashing through the houses to find folks to pitch in. His keys jingling could be heard a good five minutes before he appeared so people would clear out, knowing who was coming and what day it was. Burned-out Bob (the broker/banker from NY who had od'ed on pcp) was in the living room of Upper Cole when Mouse came stylin' in. He asked Bob to support the cause but Bob told him he was in the middle of reading something and really wanted to finish it. Mouse, being one to never suppress one's expansions of knowledge, agreed that Bob's reading was a noble effort and excused himself and jingled on down the steps. A few minutes pass and Mouse comes ramblin' back through the living room only to find Bob deeply engrossed in his 'book'.

Mouse is almost through the kitchen door off the living room when he stops, does a double take, and turns back to Bob. (The following is paraphrasing, not verbatim)

"THIS? This is the BOOK that was so important that you just had to finish????"

"Well, yeah. I started it last night and couldn't get through it. I wanted to finish reading it first thing this morning."

Mouse snatches the Spider-Man comic book out of Bob's hands and tosses it aside. If you look up flabbergasted in Webster's you'll see a pic of Mouseman's face from that moment.

"Get up and get downstairs right now"

And that was that.

I think I spent the rest of the day smiling about that and trying to talk over the noise Ken Ross and his Native American woman were making whilst they were going at it. I, along with the rest of the block, was beginning to think his name was Oh Ken.

 

Hey Spuddy. Wanna help me with a clutch job? Put your skoads on and meet me in the garage in five. Skoads! What the fuck were we thinking? For those of you who don't remember skoads were the 501s we wore to work every day in the garage and we never washed them. By month two with all the motor oil and axle grease they stood up by themselves. I don't know how Cancer Nancy, God love her, put up with us. Kid's idea. But for some odd reason it attracted the honeys. Go figure.

 

I love you all.. I'll be outta pocket today till later this afternoon.. Wensdays I take my sister to chemo.

Blessings
NC

 

I definitely remember skoads, man. And whoa to the skoad-wearing dude who fell asleep while partying at the garage (pants on fire!).

 

I always assumed skoads were the infulence of the bikers among our mech guys. I recall ome biker I knew, I think he was a South Fla. Outlaw who wore the remains of four or five pairs of 'originals' one over the other. The top or outer pair had no more than two square feet of material remaining. Originals were worn untill they disintegrated and never washed unless you dunked the wearer jeans and all, not the easyest or safest thing to do! This was a thing of honor among the !%er clubs in the '60s.

 

My skoads up and left home, on their own, after i moved to Atlanta. it was after I rebuilt the transmission on my '65 MGB and replaced the U-joints on my Econoline van. Last seen they were heading back to SF and GE. If anyone knows where they are please tell them that I miss them, all is forgiven and I want them back.Of course they may have been abducted by a 3rd world nation as there was enough oil and grease on them to power a small country

 

Anyone remember the guy who hung around Haight Street who wore skoad pants and jacket? I don't think he washed his face or body either. He was total grease from top to bottom. I met him a few times on the street. I think Wild Bill may remember him. Was his name "Skoads?"

 

I think Kid got the notion from the Outlaw, yes. That guy was some bad ass. I carried a case of beer into the garage one evening, he takes one, then starts givin' me shit for grabbing one myself...and I bought it. He was dangerously mental, not to mention about 4 times bigger than me. What he was trying prove by kicking my little ass I'll never understand. Luckily, I bluffed my way out of toein' up with that crazy mofo.

I don't remember the street guy's name Spud, but he had a smokin' hot old lady who dressed to the nines. She was model beautiful and nobody would have believed they were a unit. But, he was an ace mechanic. They "lived" under his car.

 

hey all my good earth friends!!!! i had a long ass letter i wrote thanking everyone for the welcome and a story about the country fair. but it got swallowed in hyper space? hey mouseman,spud,dana chriswah,zev,stacy wild bill,nailcakes and ranger its great finally to be back where we belong!!!:hat: i miss and love all of you.say.... lets meet at the country fair next year?. i guess i won't be happy unless i get to talk on the phone with all of you.,but just seeing your words are medicine to the soul!!!!! lvsagdarel

 

hey wild bill!! what the heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell dude!!!! miss ya lv ya sagdarel

 

hey bill! i remember that bad ass,(who wasn't a bad ass after we got done with him) leo ron&I and a few other people that i can't remember right now chased down in the middle of the street? leo ron beat the shit out of this guy's head untill he passed out with the gun butt wow! what a night that was. then we stuffed him a garbage can and jammed. yeah i remember flying over the hood of one car trying to catch that little bastard! sagdarel

 

I actually still have my last pair of "TRUCKERS" or more commonly refered here by all the fine GEs as SKOADES. There were the Boulder days that some may remember as the days of Drinking wine and wearing Skoades! I am assuming that the word Skodes has some reference to something being a tad "Skoady"

When we moved out of the bus (parked it at the whrilpools) into the little house on the river road (u make the left before going over to Tavern on right Forest Service on left) Sheila said that it was time to get into something she could wash and that my "Truckers" were getting a little to skoady!! So they were put into a drawer and eventually into a plastic bag along with the rest of Gregs ashes.

Tiller my youngest son found them one year when he was around 18 and asked me what they were. I told him that they were my Trucking pants dude!!! He wore them one Hollween. I warned him to make sure that he "protected" himself from my truckers! BUT most of all I told him that he better not lose one patch, conch, or tiny leather pouch that was all part and parcel of my tTruckers. They are now where they belong on a shelf in a closet with some of Gregs ashes and plenty of memories are in that bag with my SKOADS!

peace/love
wickwah
Chris

 

Yea, Spud, I remember that guy, he was called "Dego" (sp?) and he was the most unbelievably greasy character of all, and yea, he had this babe of an ol lady; go figure!? He actually lived under his VW bus in the basement of the Page St house before it became GE.

 

As of three years ago Dego was living in his truck somewhere out around India Basin. he still makes it over to Haight St. and is still a total gung foo mechanic. His current gf is even wilder than Dego, buckskins, blades, piercings and mohawks. Beautiful. about 6 feet something and a true 'wild woman'.
Dego always pointed out that no matter who all got crabs and lice no critters could live in his greece coat! *LOL*

 

They not only kept the critters off, they also kept the rain n wind off. Quite practical and ingenius for one who traveled lite

BTW I added some relly old pix to my photos

 

Nails; It sure looks like you found your little peace of heaven out there.

 

, one of my favorite Mouseman fables.

Mouse was crewing up the Enterprise to do a garbage run and was dashing through the houses to find folks to pitch in. His keys jingling could be heard a good five minutes before he appeared so people would clear out, knowing who was coming and what day it was. Burned-out Bob (the broker/banker from NY who had od'ed on pcp) was in the living room of Upper Cole when Mouse came stylin' in.

Good God, Wild Bill, you have a good memory and tell a great story. As I read it tears were running down my face I was laughing so hard!
Now, when I would go around looking for help, it was never any kind of mandatory; I mean everybody knew that if you helped out Leo Ron, Pisces Bob & me (in the "Meg") on a garbage run, recycling run or whatever, there was always the benefit of good herb, cheap beer :cheers2:and a good time; we never had trouble getting a work crew. Burned-out-Bob, on the other hand, was one useless SOB (his female equivalent was DDC [Debbie Dumb C**t]). To this day I don't understand how either of them had enough cortal synapses to keep breathing! I mean, even if your days effort was "spare changing" on the street, or like in your case; spending incredibly long (and stressfull) hours in upper Cole, everybody tried to contribute in their own way. Occasionally there would appear one of these "black holes" of energy rip off. That day, I guess, it just wasn't going to be.

 

I think I spent the rest of the day smiling about that and trying to talk over the noise Ken Ross and his Native American woman were making whilst they were going at it. I, along with the rest of the block, was beginning to think his name was Oh Ken.[/QUOTE]

HAW HAW!!
YEA! Her name was Suzy and she was an Ojibway princess, and quite the looker. Remember; Frances (my Canadian sweetie) and I had the room next to Ken Ross & Suzy; OH Ken, OH Ken, Oh Ken!!! Frances & I had to bite our tongs to keep quiet.