Where do you think this is, Poland?

WHERE DO YOU THINK THIS IS, POLAND?

A One Act

(KPFA, Berkeley. Radio control room. Night.) 1979)

A radio host is leaning over a broadcast console. There are stools around. It is dimly lit. His guest takes a seat on a stool. The guest is dressed in a suit and carries a clipboard. He pulls a tuna fish sandwich out of his pocket, crumbs fall on the console. He brushes them off. RADIO HOST wears headphones. As he picks up the needle from the LP and puts it in a sleeve, he presses a talkback button and introduces the guest. 

RADIO HOST

Welcome back to Maximum Rock and Roll. We’re here tonight with our guest Bill Graham.

(Dead air. Graham breaks silence. And speaks with a strong Bronx accent.)

BILL GRAHAM

Okay, gentlemen. What are we doing here? 

RADIO HOST

We’re here to talk about how you are taking advantage of the working man, Bill. And ripping off the kids with your outlandish ticket prices to see The Clash. When did this all become about you and all your elite friends?

BILL GRAHAM

Elite, what? 

Listen, I’m bringing music to the people. My shows run on time. My shows ALWAYS run on time.

RADIO HOST

Well, maybe, but you're over, man. And we're the future.

BILL GRAHAM

You mean to tell me I come on your Mickey Mouse show here and this is how you thank me. By stabbing me in the back? 

What?! You’re going to get all high and mighty on me? Where do you think this is, Poland? 

I come on your sad little show and now it’s all this? Listen, I’ve got pieces of guys like you in my stool.

(Blackout. Sounds of a skirmish.)

---

Bill Graham was a concert promoter. Every year fewer and fewer people who attend shows at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium have even a vague idea who he was. The percentage goes up for those attending The Fillmore, but by how much?

Some confuse him with the preacher. When Billy Graham told Nixon (on tape!) that the Jews have too much power in this country (I’m paraphrasing), he might have been talking about Bill, a Polish Holocaust survivor and tough son of a bitch by anyone’s standards.

When my family moved up here from Southern California, I was 16. I didn't exactly find my tribe right away. I didn’t know a soul. But I did have a driver’s license. And I did figure out how to get around and how to get to Rather Ripped Records in Berkeley.

A couple weeks ago, I was pulling a stack of records to take to the Tenderloin Museum to do a DJ set and many of them came from Rather Ripped, 

At 16, I listened to a radio show on KPFA 94.1 FM out of Berkeley on Tuesday nights (don’t fact-check me!) right there in my suburban bedroom. The show I listened to was called Maximum Rock n' Roll.

The octopus was a favorite visual metaphor used by cartoonists to convey the villainous monopolies

They'd spin the latest Punk Rock records from England. (Imports!) And play records by local bands too, but there were only so many of those, so sometimes they'd spin the odd Kinks rarities and rockabilly sides. Which was all pretty fresh to me. It was great radio. And the hosts would insert some of their own progressive politics into the mix. 

Most importantly, they would always run a calendar of events of what shows were happening in the Bay Area. It was a kind of beacon. I used to tape the show on my little cassette recorder. I’m pretty sure that’s how I found out about the Temple Beautiful.

The guys at Maximum Rock n' Roll, Tim Yohannan, et al, were brats giving the middle finger to a shifting cast of villains. And they decided to invite Bill Graham to appear on their show to confront him about a local controversy. Hash it out around the microphone. (I had a pretty dim idea of what a concert promoter even was. And could hardly understand what goes into making a live performance actually happen. But I did know Bill Graham was the Big Dog in SF concert promotion, and worse yet, that he was part of the establishment. Or represented it, somehow.) 

In the one act above, the Maximum Rock n' Roll guys accuse Graham of running a monopoly on concerts. And mind you, that was back when Americans pretty much all agreed: monopolies are bad news. Without competitors, monopolies—they can run amok. (The Before Times!)

To the point, a collective of upstarts who called themselves the New Youth Organization (“NYO”) had organized a "People's Clash Show" with a much more affordable ticket price than Bill Graham charged. Somehow, they made contact with The Clash and the band said, sure, why not? (The Clash might have been here in SF decamped on Folsom Street recording their second LP with producer Sandy Pearlman. But, don’t quote me on that. I don’t know the timeline.) 

Years later, Tim Mooney filled me in on the NYO-promoted “People’s Clash Show.” Tim was in The Sleepers. A beloved band here. And they snagged the opening slot. Tim still smarted over the memory. On arrival, The Clash had taken one look at the place and pulled a Hollywood Headliner. (Decided to go on first.) After The Clash played, naturally, the place cleared out like there had been a bomb scare. So much for The Sleepers. It wasn’t exactly a triumph. 

The NYO had put up posters around town, which you can find online, that said, "Appearing at the Temple Beautiful [such and such date]. The only band that matters. $5." (Of course, they never mentioned The Clash by name.) 

Bill Graham got wind of this upstart outfit, poaching on his terrain. (Think Tony Soprano, but Jewish and with a better ear.) Bill threatened them with legal action. As you do. He would sue your pants off. I paraphrase. I don't know what Graham said. He might have even threatened their legs—sure, I’m extrapolating, but, people, their pants would already be off and breaking their legs might be a temptation. The coup de grace. (At least in the cable mini-series version.)

‘new yooth’ productions present: White Riot In The Fillmore!

The Clash at the Temple Beautiful (Photographer unknown)