Hi Deanne, nice review. You spoke about the heart of the piece and went into detail. Too many on this site simple say that they liked it but don’t say why. 1953. I read your profile. My father was a B17 navigator who volunteered for a “milk run” and found himself over Normandy Beach at 5AM on D Day. His was the first plane shot down that day
Non-fiction / Drinking with Janis
There's a place called the Monmouth Museum up behind the Garden State Arts Center in New Jersey. In 1970, it was nothing more than an old stone house with some local photos and relics on display, but the grounds had a wildflower field and a beautiful pine forest of 20 acres. As kids, we would go there to get stoned and camp with our girlfriends. Holmdel was still a rural town back then, with only two cops, so after dark the museum grounds became our own private estate. And since it bordered the back lawn of the Arts Center, we simply climbed the fence and saw all the shows for free.
1970 was also the year the Arts Center decided to host rock concerts. It was a wonderful open-air amphitheater with auditorium seating and a great lawn that surrounded three-quarters of the stage. Iron Butterfly, the Rascals, and Grand Funk Railroad had already played there, but nothing compared to the night Janis Joplin showed up with her Full Tilt Boogie Band. It was close to a riot. Thousands of people had come without tickets.
On occasion, security would bust us for climbing the fence, but this night they had their hands full. We hopped on over and started down the hill, running into a bunch of people sitting in a circle, smoking hash and sharing a bottle of Jack Daniel's. They invited us over, so we sat down and clasped hands and bid the usual greetings. This chick leaned in and looked over at me.
"Hey, man."
It was Janis Joplin. We were sitting with the band and some of the roadies.
"Holy shit," was all I could manage.
It was a warm summer evening just before twilight. A gentle breeze came up the hill and swept the feathers and silk she wore in her hair.
"How you doin’, man?"
"I’m doing fine. This is far out."
I was 17 years old.
"You guys live around here?"
"Yeah, this is like our backyard."
"That’s pretty cool," she said. "Glad you came."
It was only a moment, a brief moment. Our eyes met and I felt her kid-sister charm and that tragic sorrow we all would come to know. Her soul flew out at me, rushed passed my shoulder and entered the forest, swaying the pines as the wind followed after. Then her eyes softened. She smiled and leaned back into the circle. Out in front the crowd was roaring and chanting. Someone passed me the pipe. A few minutes later the stage manager came and said it was time for the show.
My friends and I watched as they walked down the hill and in through a pair of gray steel doors. I was hoping she might turn around and wave, but she didn’t. It was a hell of a show. All those freaks crashed the gates and it was standing room only. The crowd spilled over the promenade and all the way down to the parking lots. After that night, the Arts Center banned all rock concerts. Two months later, Janis was dead.
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B_HDouglas reviewed Version 1 -
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I love the friendly atmosphere you tell each of us readers. Janis Joplin reminds me of a woman with a big heart, and you affirm this. I admire her for being so friendly, it astounds me you just ‘sat down’ with them, and she opened right up. I don’t know what changed so many peoples attitudes, I lived by a college campus and older girls used to talk to me all of the time, I was only like 10, on my bike, but the bell bottom women were always so full of life to me. Love it, Big Hit. B.
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Nani reviewed Version 1 -
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I like the brevity of the piece, perhaps you had a forced word count for your submission, but the outcome is great. You leave enough unsaid so that the reader is forced to “lean in” to your story just as you describe Janis leaning toward you; we are allowed to recall what memories we have of Joplin and wonder what it would have been like to be in the space in time you inhabited on that night in 1970.
I would mention your age much earlier to get it out of the way, I think it interrupts the flow of the dialogue where you have it. Perhaps move to second sentence, “In 1970, when I was seventeen…”
For the line, “How you doin’, man?” to me it was unclear who was speaking, I had to read on for a while to figure out the sequence of speakers.
Really great job. Did they publish it?
FrakKevin reviewed Version 1 -
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Instantly this made me think of the movie American Dream…I’m not from the 70s, but this short piece captured that time for me..I must admit I dont know who Janis was, but I wikipedia it. This being a true made me go wow at the end. Overall I liked this and I thought it written well.
Deanne reviewed Version 1 -
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It was an interesting recounting of a real time and place and true to itself and its times, making you born in 1947 to 1954. Only way you wouldn’t put too much hippie stuff in it in establishing the setting. It was lovely how this brief encounter with Janis had her soul enter the forest, swaying the pines as the wind followed after. More than the usual “we sneaked into rock concerts ” tale can tell, and more like the thoughts coming out with a blast of good hash when you start coughing.Fits with the times and just like you, everytihng good I found, it was busted that day or the next weekend and ended the hundrerds of hippies going to Dodge Park with little hash and mesc booths set right up on the walk to the outhouses…you captured the whole 60’s-1970 for me with the “it ended then, and so did this.” It was all over too quickly. I love this poem as representative of an age group, an era, us.
Vegasamore reviewed Version 1 -
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Wow. I hate to say I didn’t check Grammer or anything. not that is was noticeable. The story alone was nicely written and the end paragraph made it strong. This isn’t a fan going nuts about a chance meeting but about a connection to an artist and that’s beautiful. Thank you for putting it up!
martykate reviewed Version 1 -
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I’d like to see this expanded a bit more. You capured the summer, the venue, the experience, but this story craves more of the actual experience of being there with her. All in all, though, you’ve got me and a million others green with envy.
Marvin reviewed Version 1 -
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Good opening paragraph. Very natural voice, good offering of information, word economy. Well done.
“It was close to a riot. Thousands of people had come without tickets.”—suggestion: I’d switch these two lines and offer a line or two of why it was close to a riot. I was waiting for it but it didn’t come.
“but this night they had their hands full.”—teasing me again. hands full with what? hippies running naked on fire? isolated fist-fights w/ leather clad bikers? what?
“It was a warm summer evening just before twilight.”—good but this could come earlier. it feels like you just backtracked.
“Her soul flew out at..”—this is a good line but it doesn’t belong here. In my humble, stupid opinion.
“Janis was dead.”—good closing.
overall?
very well written piece. a 17 year old brushes up against Janis one night. it’s feels very sentimental, but it’s hard to call it “touching.” but it’s good.
i’d only suggest tagging it with the iron a few times if you still want to work on it.
thanks.
gbaurbis reviewed Version 1 -
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Without notes for a critique I’d like to put this into a non-fiction short story. I think of her earrings having long feathers that brushed or came close to your face.
I’d ask you to do several things with this experience, a short story or flash fiction. I totally believe you. Just hard to critique.
Maybe transition in with today that Monmouth Musuem is for children and I couldn’t find anything about Janis Joplin or anything to do with “rock and roll”
Maybe, this could be prose/poetry or flash fiction.
I know this is general, but I did research it. I think you could develop several short stories from just this chance meeting.
Blessings.
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