ROCK SCULLY - Living with The Dead

I never met Rock Scully. One Saturday afternoon early in September 1974 I turned up at a large house on the King's Road to interview the Grateful Dead's Phil Lesh - one of the more memorable chats I had in my short career as editor of Zigzag. The house apparently belonged to a character named Tom Salter - "a middle-aged Cockney suffering from cocaine dementia' - according to Scully in his supremely entertaining but, I would hope and guess, unreliable memoir Living With The Dead. Various people drifted in and out of the room as Lesh and I discussed the details of dissonant counterpoint but regrettably I don't remember Rock Scully being one of them. And now, at the age of 73, Scully has passed away, nearly twenty years after Jerry Garcia whose own demise in a drug-addled mess some hold Scully partly responsible for. And reading Living With The Dead it would be easy to draw that conclusion. A trustworthy history of the Grateful Dead it is not, but as an account of the gigantic and startling amount of drug use that went on, primarily involving Garcia, and the logistical mayhem it caused, it is in turns eye-watering, miserable, and very amusing. It contains the most evocative description of the Acid Tests that I've read anywhere and is particularly revealing about the band's relationship with LSD supremo Owsley Stanley. In the obituary in the New York Times Douglas Martin states that in recent years Scully, drug and alcohol-free, had settled in Carmel to look after his mother, paint houses and involve himself in civic issues. That he lived as long as he did is probably some sort of miracle given the horrendous volume of mind-boggling chemicals that passed through his body but I for one will sing along to Uncle John's Band today in his memory.