• February 17, 2012
    https://www.dead.net/features/jon-mcintire/jon-mcintire-1941-2012
    Jon McIntire 1941 - 2012
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    Jon McIntire, manager of the Grateful Dead in the 1970s and 1980s, died of natural causes yesterday, February 16, 2012, in Stinson Beach. He was 70.

    Once a promoter really screwed up in front of Jon, and asked how he could demonstrate his sincere regrets. “Pheasant under glass would be nice,” said Jon. He got it, and sat backstage in some dumb coliseum catering area thoroughly enjoying himself. Another night, in the mid 1980s, the Dead traveling party went to an extraordinarily high-class restaurant called Le Bec-Fin in Philadelphia. Dinner – and wine, lots of wine - cost $10,000. As various somewhat cruder members of the entourage got louder and wiggier – party favors were ordered from somebody on the wait staff - Jon presided over the scene like a tall, blond, handsome and benign prince, charming to the core and always terribly civilized. He was a very special part of the Grateful Dead.

    He was born August 13, 1941, in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, and grew up in Bellville, across the river from St. Louis. He was a charter member of the Early Music Society of St. Louis, performed as a child pianist, and acted at the Gateway Theater there. He attended Washington University. Joining the early-sixties procession to San Francisco, he attended San Francisco State, concentrating on the history of ideas, studying things like German phenomenology and expressionist poets. He met a fellow student named Rock Scully. “It seemed strange to me,” said McIntire, “that Rock, to me a serious scholar, should be into rock and roll bands.”

    McIntire, it turned out, got into Rock’s band too. With his partner Danny Rifkin, Rock was dropping out of State to manage the Grateful Dead. Jon described himself as having a Taoist view – he tended to follow things, and the Dead just “sort of swept me in.” “We were all psychedelic revolutionaries, and we all became great friends during that time,” Jon told The Golden Road magazine much later. “We were willing to try anything.”

    Jon had been working as a systems analyst at the Fireman’s Fund insurance company, but then one day in early 1968 his life changed. He’d been anticipating having to return to St. Louis to deal with a court case about a car accident, and then got a telegram saying he didn’t have to go. Suddenly free, he wandered down to the Dead’s brand new venue, the Carousel Ballroom, to help chef Annie Corson clean the kitchen to prepare for opening the place.

    He’d just begun when one of the Dead’s many managers at that time, Jonathan Riester, walked in and said, "McIntire! What are you doing?" "Well, Jonathan, I'm going to take this fry grill and I'm going to put it in that water, and I'm going to scrub the fuck out of it." "No no no no no, you can't do that, that's not a job for you." "Why?" "Because you're going to manage this ballroom with me." "Jonathan, I'm an actor. What do I know about managing a ballroom?" "McIntire, I'm a cowboy, what do you think I know?" "I don't know." "Besides, what do you have to do for the rest of your life?" "Well, as of a few hours ago, nothing." "My point exactly."

    “At this point,” Jon recalled, “Annie's staring at us with daggers of hate, knowing she's being left in the lurch. We walked out, and I told Jonathan that the only condition was we had to find her two guys to help, no bullshit. And he did.”

    And so Jon became one of a number of managers, and by 1970, after the departure of Lenny Hart, the manager. With Rock Scully doing the promotion, he guided the Grateful Dead through the era of Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty. He was sweet, civilized, a little proud of his intellect, and very different from the rowdy crew that set the tone around the Dead, but his graceful intelligence paved the way for much of their success.

    When the Dead notified Warner Bros.’ Joe Smith that they wanted to call their 1971 live album “Skullfuck,” it was Jon who told Joe. When Joe cried out “How could you do this to me?” it was Jon who replied, “No, Joe, it’s all of us who are doing this to you.” The result was a meeting in which the entire GD community went down to Los Angeles for a meeting with Joe to discuss it. In the end, they changed the name and got a promotional budget that paid for many live radio shows and made that record, Grateful Dead, their first gold album.

    By 1974, as the band grew burned out with their giant sound system, The Wall, and decided to take a hiatus, Jon did too. He worked with Bob Weir’s solo projects, like “Bobby and the Midnites.”

    In 1984, Danny Rifkin, who’d been managing things for a while, decided to take a sabbatical in India. Jon returned as manager – cumulatively, he probably ran the GD circus longest of all the managers -and was on board as they found their greatest commercial success with “Touch of Grey” and In the Dark. In the process he’d brought in Cameron Sears to be road manager, and after a period of training, was glad to hand over the reins to him and leave rock and roll. He returned to St. Louis where he acted, and also worked as a counselor for women who were victims of domestic violence. In later years, he worked in the theater in Newport Beach, California and New York City before returning to Northern California in 2011.

    “He would always light up a room when he walked in,” said Cameron Sears. He had a sunny, funny, fussy disposition that made him unique in the Dead scene, and he brought a dignified, civilizing elegance to the mix that had a very special impact. When the Dead’s biographer asked him what books would explain the intellectual sources of the Grateful Dead, he listed Friedrich Holderlin, Thomas Mann, Martin Heidegger, Georg Hegel, James Joyce, T. S. Eliot, an unfinished novel in three volumes by Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities, and what he called “the surrealist bible,” Les Chants de Maldoror, by the Comte de Lautreamont (Isidore Lucien Ducasse). He said they “taught us to start from the point of unlimited possibilities. We have not gone into the modern age.”

    He did his level best to help the Grateful Dead do just that.

    Dennis McNally, author of A Long Strange Trip/The Inside History of the Grateful Dead, was the Dead’s publicist from 1984 on.

    For Jon McIntire, a Word or Two

    (c) 1969 Jim Wiseman

    What word will do
    to gesture toward
    the dark gathering
    of mutual mystery,
    said of the unseen
    by saying nothing?

    Beyond utterance,
    speechlessness
    hoping to be heard
    by a keener ear,
    before any word
    was ever spoken,
    dies broken like night
    by a single shaft of sun.

    Silence past Summer,
    unmurmuring Spring,
    Autumn unmentioned,
    Winter, mute, or that
    other season: Humanity
    wherein we dwell,
    listening, listening,
    sometimes ceasing
    to mere appearance.

    Not far to go,
    a simple step
    into forever. . .
    Off then, goodnight,
    into sheer light
    beyond any season
    known to the moon.

    February 16, 2012 Robert Hunter

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Jon McIntire, manager of the Grateful Dead in the 1970s and 1980s, died of natural causes yesterday, February 16, 2012, in Stinson Beach. He was 70.

Once a promoter really screwed up in front of Jon, and asked how he could demonstrate his sincere regrets. “Pheasant under glass would be nice,” said Jon. He got it, and sat backstage in some dumb coliseum catering area thoroughly enjoying himself. Another night, in the mid 1980s, the Dead traveling party went to an extraordinarily high-class restaurant called Le Bec-Fin in Philadelphia. Dinner – and wine, lots of wine - cost $10,000. As various somewhat cruder members of the entourage got louder and wiggier – party favors were ordered from somebody on the wait staff - Jon presided over the scene like a tall, blond, handsome and benign prince, charming to the core and always terribly civilized. He was a very special part of the Grateful Dead.

He was born August 13, 1941, in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, and grew up in Bellville, across the river from St. Louis. He was a charter member of the Early Music Society of St. Louis, performed as a child pianist, and acted at the Gateway Theater there. He attended Washington University. Joining the early-sixties procession to San Francisco, he attended San Francisco State, concentrating on the history of ideas, studying things like German phenomenology and expressionist poets. He met a fellow student named Rock Scully. “It seemed strange to me,” said McIntire, “that Rock, to me a serious scholar, should be into rock and roll bands.”

McIntire, it turned out, got into Rock’s band too. With his partner Danny Rifkin, Rock was dropping out of State to manage the Grateful Dead. Jon described himself as having a Taoist view – he tended to follow things, and the Dead just “sort of swept me in.” “We were all psychedelic revolutionaries, and we all became great friends during that time,” Jon told The Golden Road magazine much later. “We were willing to try anything.”

Jon had been working as a systems analyst at the Fireman’s Fund insurance company, but then one day in early 1968 his life changed. He’d been anticipating having to return to St. Louis to deal with a court case about a car accident, and then got a telegram saying he didn’t have to go. Suddenly free, he wandered down to the Dead’s brand new venue, the Carousel Ballroom, to help chef Annie Corson clean the kitchen to prepare for opening the place.

He’d just begun when one of the Dead’s many managers at that time, Jonathan Riester, walked in and said, "McIntire! What are you doing?" "Well, Jonathan, I'm going to take this fry grill and I'm going to put it in that water, and I'm going to scrub the fuck out of it." "No no no no no, you can't do that, that's not a job for you." "Why?" "Because you're going to manage this ballroom with me." "Jonathan, I'm an actor. What do I know about managing a ballroom?" "McIntire, I'm a cowboy, what do you think I know?" "I don't know." "Besides, what do you have to do for the rest of your life?" "Well, as of a few hours ago, nothing." "My point exactly."

“At this point,” Jon recalled, “Annie's staring at us with daggers of hate, knowing she's being left in the lurch. We walked out, and I told Jonathan that the only condition was we had to find her two guys to help, no bullshit. And he did.”

And so Jon became one of a number of managers, and by 1970, after the departure of Lenny Hart, the manager. With Rock Scully doing the promotion, he guided the Grateful Dead through the era of Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty. He was sweet, civilized, a little proud of his intellect, and very different from the rowdy crew that set the tone around the Dead, but his graceful intelligence paved the way for much of their success.

When the Dead notified Warner Bros.’ Joe Smith that they wanted to call their 1971 live album “Skullfuck,” it was Jon who told Joe. When Joe cried out “How could you do this to me?” it was Jon who replied, “No, Joe, it’s all of us who are doing this to you.” The result was a meeting in which the entire GD community went down to Los Angeles for a meeting with Joe to discuss it. In the end, they changed the name and got a promotional budget that paid for many live radio shows and made that record, Grateful Dead, their first gold album.

By 1974, as the band grew burned out with their giant sound system, The Wall, and decided to take a hiatus, Jon did too. He worked with Bob Weir’s solo projects, like “Bobby and the Midnites.”

In 1984, Danny Rifkin, who’d been managing things for a while, decided to take a sabbatical in India. Jon returned as manager – cumulatively, he probably ran the GD circus longest of all the managers -and was on board as they found their greatest commercial success with “Touch of Grey” and In the Dark. In the process he’d brought in Cameron Sears to be road manager, and after a period of training, was glad to hand over the reins to him and leave rock and roll. He returned to St. Louis where he acted, and also worked as a counselor for women who were victims of domestic violence. In later years, he worked in the theater in Newport Beach, California and New York City before returning to Northern California in 2011.

“He would always light up a room when he walked in,” said Cameron Sears. He had a sunny, funny, fussy disposition that made him unique in the Dead scene, and he brought a dignified, civilizing elegance to the mix that had a very special impact. When the Dead’s biographer asked him what books would explain the intellectual sources of the Grateful Dead, he listed Friedrich Holderlin, Thomas Mann, Martin Heidegger, Georg Hegel, James Joyce, T. S. Eliot, an unfinished novel in three volumes by Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities, and what he called “the surrealist bible,” Les Chants de Maldoror, by the Comte de Lautreamont (Isidore Lucien Ducasse). He said they “taught us to start from the point of unlimited possibilities. We have not gone into the modern age.”

He did his level best to help the Grateful Dead do just that.

Dennis McNally, author of A Long Strange Trip/The Inside History of the Grateful Dead, was the Dead’s publicist from 1984 on.

For Jon McIntire, a Word or Two

(c) 1969 Jim Wiseman

What word will do
to gesture toward
the dark gathering
of mutual mystery,
said of the unseen
by saying nothing?

Beyond utterance,
speechlessness
hoping to be heard
by a keener ear,
before any word
was ever spoken,
dies broken like night
by a single shaft of sun.

Silence past Summer,
unmurmuring Spring,
Autumn unmentioned,
Winter, mute, or that
other season: Humanity
wherein we dwell,
listening, listening,
sometimes ceasing
to mere appearance.

Not far to go,
a simple step
into forever. . .
Off then, goodnight,
into sheer light
beyond any season
known to the moon.

February 16, 2012 Robert Hunter

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Jon McIntire, manager of the Grateful Dead in the 1970s and 1980s, died of natural causes yesterday, February 16, 2012, in Stinson Beach. He was 70.

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Wonderful, Dennis...Jon will be greatly missed. I remember in 1988 when he bought a new desk for the upstairs office at the GD office. It was from Scandinavian Designs this was a few months before the 1988 Rainforest Benefit at MSG. I told him that most of the furniture at S.D. was made from the Brazilian Rainforests...he said, "not this one." I crawled under the desk and it said, "Made in Brazil" I told him and he shrugged, "but it's a beautiful desk." When he moved his office over to the back upstairs office at GDTS he brought the desk. This was about the time he brought Cameron Sears into the GD fold. After Cameron took over Jon moved back to St. Louis and told me the desk was mine if I wanted it. I moved into his office and have had that desk ever since...it is sitting upstairs in my home office right now under a huge pile of stuff... Jon, you always had a kind word for me and always had a sparkle in your eyes...You were one of two people in the world that called me Stevie and it sounded and felt right...I will miss you always! ♥ :-( ps the other one who called me Stevie and it sounded and felt right was Dan Healy..Go figure!
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Thanks Scrib - and Robert - for being our voice.
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such a gentleman... and a gentle man. I loved the guy! The last time I spent any significant time with Jon was a year ago January (2011) when Regan and I drove out to Stinson so I could interview him for the big essay I was writing for the Europe '72 box. He had recently moved to a big domed home right off the beach, and he was lovin' being back in Northern California! We had lunch in the village and then sat around his dining room table for a couple of hours as he spun tale after tale about that magical trip. We ended the day with a long walk down the beach on what was a warm January afternoon. He was funny, erudite, compassionate and a great thinker, full of interesting and cool ideas. One of the first things I thought of when I heard the news this morning was that when we spent that day with him, he talked a lot about the autobiography he was working on, which was going to talk about the ways that his studies in philosophy and his experiences with psychedelics and the times he lived through had affected his journey. Perhaps we'll see some of it some form some day? I hope so. Thanks to Dennis M. for a beautifully written elegy for our fallen friend. He captured Jon beautifully!
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Mr. McIntire helped make the whole trip a lot smoother for all of us. I will remember that when I listen. Can we start a petition or something to get his autobiography published? I don't think anyone will care if it's not finished...
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I met Jon maybe five or six times at parties hosted by a mutual friend. I was fairly young and a bit shy amongst the crowd but Jon came over to talk to me and immediately put me at ease. He was unpretentious and extremely gracious with me and I always appreciated him for that. From what I could tell he was a good man.
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I never met the gentleman, but now wish I had. Thanks to Dennis and Robert. RIP, Jon.
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Ever since I heard the news of Jon's passing, I've felt like I've been standing too close to a set of railroad tracks with trains periodically roaring by in both directions, creating horrendous noise and kicking up dust - the sadness and the joy taking turns. And In between, moments of awful silence in which I could not deny the truth of the news. I am so sad to know that now, I won't again sit with Jon and have one of those meandering conversations that went from reminiscing to (his) expounding to discussions of restaurants to deep philosophy to a sudden burst of laughter when we both got an unspoken joke. And yet I experience joy to have been his friend for so many years, and to have shared some great times, most notably his taking me to France in '71 to interpret for him at the Chateau d'Herouville. He could be persnickety and difficult, true, but very few people I've known have had a bigger heart than Jon McIntire or a more enthusiastic joie de vivre. R.I.P. Jon - you will be missed. Rosie McGee
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Jon, thanks for keeping the bus running smoothly throughout the 80s. R.I.P. traveler. Scrib, thanks for the memories. Hunter, you always pen so beautifully. Thank you.
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Sounds like a great guy, wish I had had the chance to meet him. So it was Lenny Hart who was demanding cash before The Boys would go onstage for their Woodstock experience? I had always wondered who was doing that and why they totally got left out of the album and the movies footage, even the Dorector's Cut edition. The sound isn't that bad on the Woodstock show and the picks were pretty good, considering they felt like they were getting electrocuted. If I remember correctly it was: Mama Tried>High Time; Dark Star>St. Stephen? No, wait -- Ahhh yes: St. Stephen>Mama Tried; Dark Star>High Time; Lovelight But anyway, thanks for the bio on Jon. So sad with old friends passing. All is impermanent...
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starting with the ones from Dennis and Hunter... I only met the guy a couple of times and didn't really know him, but my tale was much the same--he was always sweet to me, and charming and funny. I've always had the sense his good vibes made a big difference in the scene.
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May he rest in peace.
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So many memories of McIntire, back in the day, a lot of them from 1969-1970, back east. He's responsible for my love of Jaguar automobiles, and I remember playing air chess with him in the band room at Fillmore East, me aged 16 or so. He used to beat me in eight moves. Him buying me breakfast after we all staggered out the door at Fillmore midway through the Dead at Midnight series, talking about Plantagenet England over pancakes. He swore he was descended from them. Lord knows, he looked like Richard the Lionheart. One of my fondest, funniest memories of Jon was a gig at the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester, NY, November or December. I'd missed the last train back to the city, it was blowing up into a howling blizzard, and I was swearing piteously, because the Port Chester depot had a tiny waiting room that was locked up at one a.m., and it was now past that. Outside we were already in near-whiteout conditions and the temperatures were in the low twenties. So Jerry offered me a lift. "Oooh!" said I, "you're going into Manhattan, YES PLEASE, thank you thank you." "No," Jerry told me, a little too casual. "We're actually going north, to New Paltz. We rented a house up there." Yes, well. I was 16. I honestly didn't get what I was being, um, offered. "Well, that's the wrong direction for me - can I catch a train to NY up there?" Jerry rolled his eyes. McIntire was standing there, trying not to laugh. "I don't know, Deb", Jerry told me, nice and patient. "Why don't you check with McIntire?" So I trotted dutifully over to Jon. "Jon, do you know if I can catch a train back to NY from New Paltz? Jerry said to ask you." At which point Jon patted my shoulder. "Honey, the only thing you're likely to catch in New Paltz tonight is the clap." I spent five hours freezing my butt off on that bloody train station. Minor frostbite in both feet. Damn, I miss Jon already. EDIT: talking with a friend who was at the entire Port Chester run of shows, she corrects my date (later than I thought: February 1971) and the location of the house I was being invited back to (Not New Paltz, but North Salem). Ah, the memory of forty one years gone by...)
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First of all, Dennis, thank you, this is a lovely eulogy for an exquisitely civilized and brilliant man. Well done. At the risk of ruffling some tie-dyed feathers, I'll share how I met Jon. It was sometime in the late '80s, I believe, and I was marching down Market Street in San Francisco on Gay and Lesbian Freedom Day with a contingent of Deadheads. It was the first time such a contingent had appeared in the parade, and for a long-time Head like me, it was a welcome relief from the usual bar floats, leather, and disco. We represented our contingent in style, too, carrying a banner (meant tongue-in-cheek, of course) that said QUEERS FOR WEIR, with a photo of Bobby Ace himself in full cowboy regalia. At some point, a handsome, distinguished-looking blond guy ran out from the sidelines with his camera to take our photograph. I noticed that he was in tears. "What's up?" I asked the guy. "This is so beautiful," he said, "I never thought I'd live to see this!" I asked him if he was a Deadhead and he replied, "I'm the band's manager." It was Jon McIntire. I was suitably blown away. I spoke with Jon a few times after that about what it was like to be gay in a scene that was progressive in many ways, but not in that way. I only wish I'd had the chance to spend more time with Jon -- his casual stories were, of course, the kinds of living, intimate history of the band that Deadheads dream about hearing. Was Jon ever "out" in the Dead family? I don't know. He's not the only closeted member of the family I've met either. But as we sit here reading an absolutely beautiful obituary for a wonderful man that doesn't mention if he ever had a partner, I have to hope that Jon found love and companionship in the years after I met him, that glorious day on Market Street. We are everywhere, indeed. Steve Silberman
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New Salem or New Paltz, classic!
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Now that's a eulogy! Beautifully written, and a genuine treasure of the heart. Please rest now, man. Dennis, Robert.... you guys brought him very much alive for me, and it is inspiring to know how greatly he was appreciated in the world of the history of my favorite band. A real inspiring life right there.
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Humanity awakeThere is no without you” Sleeping buddha is an ordinary man Think too loud, You fail to see Who is there within you Talking and carrying on Beyond what your eyes say ” you cannot see” The seeker knows that Which for he never sought And here it is The wonderful Law, Life's dignified characteristics And a single personality. The script is written, The seed is cast One conclusion Forever last. D. Raznick 2/19/2012
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Hunter is my hero. That's an attempt to reply to the greatest poet and psychedelic educator in the world!
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Folks, Jon worked with RAVEN while in St. Louis. We were a collective of men working with men who batter, trying to contribute to ending violence against women. He did not work with battered women directly, but rather with the perpetrators of violence. It was difficult work. But, to his credit, he chose to join us. And we all loved Jon, too.
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At his passing I rejoiceas he served as an example for me in managing a great number of events of which I lead. I say rejoice because I have no other thought of him. I too have a writing to sher. For Jon and his Intelligent Passion: Timelessness State of Grace Bearing no- doubt, grief or pain For the Priceless State of Nothingness as Red and Yellow Rose Petals Fall leaving Stems a sprinkling Time dropping Their Seeds atop Fertile waste The Lone Cell of Gold has been Cashed IN One Last Debt Paid with Beatless Blood Best of All Contracts Signed with No Ink Ready to go Be... Refreshed with Delightfulness Secondless hour Begins Blues now only a True Blue Horizon to Frolic Dance Bliss Into Sweet Golden Sunsets Replace Soap Nightfall a Hopscotch Board Hammock Moons Give New Rest Forevermore CoralReefs Now but a New Glass to Taste Our Bittersweet Tears Washed Away February 20, 2012 Sherry B Sincere Gratitude for a Genuine Example to Govern Affairs By. May Others Follow with an Openness to the Possibilities, Possible. Curiosity is Fruitful and Unique. a Haiku children doth growing like Wisteria unfold only to depart -Sherry B
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What a class act Jon was, in the midst of everyday chaos. I too was at that dinner, the only 4 star restaurant in the U.S. at that time. They gave us a private dining room, I believe there was 19 of us that night. I asked Jon what the rules were and he replied that we could order anything we wanted just not to waste it if we didn't like it. I had the monk fish and salmon intertwined with a fresh morel mushroom sauce. Harry realized that if they had morels to do the sauce maybe they would make some sauteed fresh morels, so we ordered a side dish of fresh sauteed morels. Thanks Harry they were wonderful. I asked Jon to pick a wine as I knew he had better taste than I. He ordered our group a nice red and he let me try some of their Mouton Rothschild. They offered Cuban cigars at the end of the meal (illiegal then and now) and 125 year old Grand Marnier. And yes when we asked if we could have a special dessert, the staff replied..."We are a FULL SERVICE French restaurant" and came back in 20 minutes with an after dessert surprise. Always the nicest guy on tour and probably the most well read. Sorry to hear you're gone. You enriched this small planet.
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Is it your voice I hear with a slight British accent introducing the band on occasion (such as after the last song of 3/20/70?) If it's you, excellent. If it's someone else, it's someone else. We all live a while and then pass on. I just raised a glass to you.
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At the 9-24-82 Carrier Dome, lets just say, Jerry wanted to hang out during the break(thats secondary) he gave me a pass that night and after they knocked on dressing room, (5 min Jerry!)I left and decided to hang, up ON Stage, behind Brent. As the lights dimmed, this blond guy came up and said"who the fuck are you?", "I kinda stuttered a aquantance of Jerry", "see a pass!" He goes , "well, kool enough, but your just not pretty enough to hang here, behind Brent, on stage!!!!!" My only encounter with John~
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Thanks for taking us along on this long strange trip
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Every loving memory is like a warming ray which helps to bring some comfort when sorrow comes our way. RIP Jon McIntire.
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An important distinction. McIntire was an influence we all appreciated, even if we didn't physically meet. Condolences.
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With out a doubt,Jon McIntire is a great part of the legend not just for the Dead but for all the scene of Frisco from the 60's.Surely one of the greats with Jerry and others who are not already,he´s gone too.
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I first met him, finally, at the Stanley Theater in Jersey City, NJ in 1972. He was curious about my relationship to the band (he knew I occasionally helped Eileen read the incoming Dead Head mail, an exercise which eventually became the BOOK OF THE DEAD HEADS). I was at the Stanley on crutches with a busted Achilles tendon, surrounded by all my best Jersey buddies, having a whup-ass fine time. Three great nights--GREAT nights--made even better by having been formally received by Jon Mc. More recently when GDTS had a restaurant reunion, there he was, quite unexpectedly, and most wonderfully. I loved talking to Jon; like Jerry, he was quite informed about everything, having to do with constantly reading books, I think. What did we share together most? The belief that BOOKS ARE FRIENDS. Another man done gone Down on the county farm Another man done gone RIP brother Jon
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“Hey Jon, it’s Scott & Tina from next door... That was our “hello” after many years of having Jon as our neighbor. He was the kindest, most interesting and quirkiest neighbor anyone could have. We loved him. A great friend. We knew him well. God, he loved to eat!!! He loved his garden as well. When one of Jon’s friends passed away, he would plant something in their honor...We’ll miss you Jon and something is growing in your memory.
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My mind blowing evening with Furthur on 12.30, a night that worked on so many levels for me, reminded me once again of the intelligence level that was always associated with the Grateful Dead. It was something I felt back in the ballroom days and that I was reminded of again so many years down the road. It was people like Owsley and Jon that helped make deep thoughts and an intellectual curiosity such a part of what the band was about, helping them determine what was important and how they should make their way throught the world.. It is important to chose your friends wisely and the Dead seemed to attract the likes of Jon whose esthetic helped make the band what it was. That such like minded people found their way into the inner circle and helped guide the band is one of the amazing things to look back on in retrospect, all part of the incredible story of the Grateful Dead.
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God bless this Man and his Family, Jon McIntire, May the light shine in your heart like the sun daily and honor this brother with good health and well being each and everyOne of us, In the name of Love. amen and Mr. Robert Hunter, You are so Beautiful, be so good to yourself please always.... You are very Precious, Loving Light. amen Every human that reads this; I Love you with everything that i am, naturally this is inside all life, the air and water and planet needs looked at, our planet needs everyone to buy electric cars and don't bother with the looks, you'll still be the coolest around! In Gods pure heart, this i believe. Loving Peace for you and yours and generations to come forever. amen ...or three! i like three!!!
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7 years 9 months
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A true friend, never ever without open arms, a smile, and as often as not, a guffaw -- as we saw each other at shows or Rex Foundation meetings. Indeed, from the first time we met, he greeted me with kindness as if we had known each other for years. I will surely miss him dearly. RIP
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9 years 1 month
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A friend of the Dead is a friend of mine......R.I.P. Jon.
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11 years 2 months
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From all of the comments and stories it seems Jon was a kind soul who helped steer the ship! Thank you my friend for all you made brighter, it was a great ride!!! R.I.P.
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12 years 5 months
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I met Jon at the Paramount Theater 7/25/72. My brother and I were on the guest list and Jon met us, helped us out. He beamed his great smile and welcomed us. He had the vibe of benificent leadership. Of the other folks, roadies, management within the G.D. family Sparky Raicene also stood out as a kind soul.Bless all of the crew anyways as Grateful Dead became a huge and at times giant ship in rough seas. Again thank you Jon for your help.
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11 years 8 months
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Two days after I landed in San Francisco in August 1975 at the age of 19, I saw Jerry with the Keith and Donna band at Great American Music Hall. (Yes, my phony ID worked.) Hitchhiking back to Marin late that night, who should pick me up but Jon McIntire! In the short space of time between Lombard Street and my Mill Valley turnoff, we managed to talk about the Dead's just-completed show at the GAMH ("The best I've ever seen them play," Jon stated), Owsley, Neal Cassady, the Haight, and what it felt like for me to be stepping into what I considered a veritable wonderland. How kind and considerate he was, and funny, too, all in the space of a few minutes, Over the next few months, I saw Jon several times at JGB and Kingfish shows around the area, and he did me the great favor of sitting next to me at Phil's "Seastones" show with Ned Lagin at the Palace of Fine Arts that winter. I finally summoned up the courage to ask him for a job with the band; I'd have swept floors for food. He smiled and said, "Dead Heads (the fan club) is full of guys who've already asked." I knew he was right, of course, but he said it with such understanding and a little bit of sly humor, quietly acknowledging that although I was one of many, nonetheless I was as worthy of his time and attention as anyone else who might happen along. Years go by, but we don't forget people like Jon. If one way to measure the worth of a man's life is by how many lives he himself touched for the better, then Jon McInitire was good as gold.
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12 years 6 months
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Yet another spoke in the wheel driving by the fire and rod, gone to join the one turned by the grace of God.
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9 years 6 months
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@Paul, That was a really nice get together in San Rafael in March of 2011 just about a year ago...especially when Jon showed up just to have lunch and joined us. What a wonderful lunch! A couple of months later I was at Pacific Catch waiting for a To-Go order and in walks Jon to also pick up a To-Go order...we ended up having a really nice talk for almost 30 minutes (we were picking up cold fish dishes so it didn't matter.) When he came in he said, "Hi, Stevie," and gave me a big hug. He told me that he hadn't been feeling well, but didn't go into any real detail, so I didn't know how bad it really was... We promised to get together for lunch at Pacific Catch "sometime in the future," but "sometime" never came... I really do miss you.
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7 years 5 months
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I first met Jon at a friend's place in Paris. I was 17. He had bought an exquisite limited edition book of Erte prints for a friend of his and as I flipped through it, I imagined having a friend who would know me well enough to buy me this kind of gift. Jon was this kind of a friend to so many. The following spring my friend and I arrived in the bay area and Jon picked us up in his vintage roadster driving us hell for leather up to Stinson Beach. He was the consummate host, opening to us his home, his heart and his well stocked freezer full of things any teenage in the early 1970s could ever dream about having an unlimited supply of. His hospitality and generosity was legendary, but his true gift to the world was teaching us all that eccentricity is an art form and can be an elegance that is something to strive for. I have only good memories of every subsequent treat laden encounter with him... what a guy... what a ride... the world is a better place for have had Jon in it... RIP Jon McIntire... you earned it!
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    dgans
    7 years 4 months ago
    McIntire's memorial 5/15/12
    Here is my "bootleg" recording of McIntire's memorial, held 5/15/12 at the Sweetwater Music Hall in Mill Valley.
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    JRLevine
    7 years 5 months ago
    what a ride...
    I first met Jon at a friend's place in Paris. I was 17. He had bought an exquisite limited edition book of Erte prints for a friend of his and as I flipped through it, I imagined having a friend who would know me well enough to buy me this kind of gift. Jon was this kind of a friend to so many. The following spring my friend and I arrived in the bay area and Jon picked us up in his vintage roadster driving us hell for leather up to Stinson Beach. He was the consummate host, opening to us his home, his heart and his well stocked freezer full of things any teenage in the early 1970s could ever dream about having an unlimited supply of. His hospitality and generosity was legendary, but his true gift to the world was teaching us all that eccentricity is an art form and can be an elegance that is something to strive for. I have only good memories of every subsequent treat laden encounter with him... what a guy... what a ride... the world is a better place for have had Jon in it... RIP Jon McIntire... you earned it!
  • smarcus
    7 years 8 months ago
    Last Time I saw Jon
    @Paul, That was a really nice get together in San Rafael in March of 2011 just about a year ago...especially when Jon showed up just to have lunch and joined us. What a wonderful lunch! A couple of months later I was at Pacific Catch waiting for a To-Go order and in walks Jon to also pick up a To-Go order...we ended up having a really nice talk for almost 30 minutes (we were picking up cold fish dishes so it didn't matter.) When he came in he said, "Hi, Stevie," and gave me a big hug. He told me that he hadn't been feeling well, but didn't go into any real detail, so I didn't know how bad it really was... We promised to get together for lunch at Pacific Catch "sometime in the future," but "sometime" never came... I really do miss you.