Clash Take the Fifth Tour

updated 7 March 2007
updated 7 July 2008 - added several punters views
updated 30 Dec 2008 - added several photos

photo courtesy of Bev Davies

no known recording exists

photo courtesy of Bev Davies

photo courtesy of Bev Davies

Toronto Star Dec. 24, 2002
by Warren Kinsella

..I met Joe Strummer for the first time on the night of Oct. 16, 1979 in East Vancouver. Two of my Calgary punk rock buddies, plus my girlfriend and I, were loitering on the main floor at the Pacific National Exhibition (PNE). We had pooled our meagre resources to buy four train tickets to Vancouver to see the Clash in concert. Their performance had been extraordinary (and even featured a mini-riot midway through). But after the show, we had no money left and nowhere to stay.

The four of us were discussing this state of affairs as the band's roadies were on stage packing up the gear. Suddenly, Topper Headon, the drummer for the Clash, appeared. He was looking for another band member, but he asked us where we were from and what we thought of the show. When he heard that we had no place to stay, he said, "Well, you'd better come backstage with me, then." Sprawled out in a spartan PNE locker room, Strummer was chatting with lead guitarist Mick Jones and bassist Paul Simonon.

They were all stoned and grousing about an unnamed promoter of the Vancouver show who had refused to let them play until he was paid his costs. The Clash, like us, had no money. That made us love them even more. Strummer, with his square jaw and Elvis-style hairdo, didn't seem to care about the band's money woes. While Mick Jones flirted with my girlfriend, Strummer started questioning me about my Clash T-shirt.

It was homemade, and Strummer was impressed by it. I could barely speak. There I was, talking to one of the most important rock 'n' rollers ever to walk the Earth — and he was acting like a regular guy. Like he wasn't anything special. `They wrote songs that emphasized that politics were important.'

Toronto author Warren Kinsella,

Warren Kinsella – Part 2
(author of Fury's Hour.)

Twenty-seven years ago, just over two weeks after an infamous "riot" during their performance at what's now called Toronto's Hummingbird Centre, punk superstars The Clash played the Pacific National Exhibition in Vancouver. When the show was over, young Warren Kinsella and three of his punk buddies from Calgary had no place to stay.

They loitered after the show, got invited backstage, and while fans of Vancouver's own DOA spray-painted THE CLASH SUCK! DOA RULE! on the band's bus (the British punks had angered the local band by denying them a sound check), Clash vocalist Joe Strummer offered to let Kinsella and his buddies stay with them, while admitting that they had no idea where they'd be sleeping either.

Two and a half decades later, Kinsella is a lawyer, a famously litigious political pundit, and a political consultant for the federal Liberal Party, but he remembers that moment vividly, and recalls it in detail in his new book, Fury's Hour, which gets its title from an oft-quoted Clash lyric — "Let fury have the hour/ anger can be power/ you know that you can use it!" He calls his book a "(sort of) punk manifesto" and the book is a lot like punk — foul-mouthed, passionate, ranting, a bit tedious in spots, but heartfelt and undeniable, if you can bring yourself to overlook a few things.

In his book Kinsella attacks the sort of orthodoxies that painted punk in a corner, but makes a statement that punk, by its nature, is and remains implicitly left-wing, even to this day. "Green Day," he tells me "are the single largest opposition to George W. Bush and the war in Iraq — which says something about the sad state of the Democratic party." But, I ask, isn't that denying the subtle but undeniable conservatism that was also at punk's heart, if only in its rabid rejection of hippies and the '60s?

"You're right" Kinsella concedes. "You can't have orthodoxies about it. (The late) Johnny Ramone was, and always will be, a Reagan Republican. And whenever I tell people that they're like, what? And was he any less a punk? The Ramones would not have happened, and possibly punk rock wouldn't have happened, were it not for Johnny Ramone."

I was at The Clash's Toronto "riot", and remember it just as fondly as Kinsella does his backstage brush with Strummer, but I can't help but wonder if it isn't a bit absurd — insulting, even — for a fortysomething guy with a hotline to "Canada's natural ruling party" to be talking like an angry 16-year-old, and telling real 16-year-old Blink-142 fans how great his music was, and how much their sucks, by stark comparison.

"Guilty as charged," Kinsella says. "When I pushed Joey (Shithead, DOA lead singer) on it, I said come on, we're kidding ourselves. Like most subcultures, it's a youth-oriented movement, or sound. And he said no, it's not. He asked, 'Do you feel pissed off about stuff, still?' I said, yeah. 'Do you still like the music?' Yeah. ... It's different — it changes. You're not the front of the show, necessarily, but you still have that punk tendency to say 'Fuck you'."

Warren Kinsella – Part 3

The sticker affixed to the London Calling album shrink-wrap, 23 years ago this month, boldly declared that the Clash were ìthe only band that matters.î If that is true ñ if it was more than record company hyperbole ñ then Joe Strummerís death on Sunday, of a heart attack at age 50, was a very big deal indeed.

It wasnít as big as John Lennonís murder, of course, which came one year after London Calling was released, and shook an entire generation. Nor as newsworthy, likely, as the suicide of Nirvanaís Kurt Cobain in 1994. No, the impact of the sudden death of Joe Strummer ñ the front man for the Clash, the spokesman for what the Voidoidís Richard Hell called, at the time, ìthe blank generationî ñ will be seen in more subtle ways.

For starters, you wonít see any maudlin Joe Strummer retrospectives on CNN, or hordes of hysterical fans wailing in a park somewhere, clutching candles whilst someone plays ëWhite Riotí on acoustic guitar. Nor will there be a rush by his estate to cash in with grubby compilation and tribute discs. Punk rock, you see, wasnít merely apart from all that ñ it was against of all that.

Punk rock was a specific rejection of everything rockíníroll had become in the 1970s ñ namely, a business: an arena-sized, coke-addicted, utterly-disconnected-from-reality corporate game played by millionaires at Studio 54. Punk rock, and Joe Strummer, changed all of that. They were loud, loutish, pissed off. They were of the streets, and for the streets. They wanted rockíníroll to matter again.

I met Joe Strummer for the first time on the night of October 16, 1979, in East Vancouver. Two of my Calgary punk rock buddies, plus my girlfriend and I, were loitering on the main floor at the Pacific National Exhibition (PNE). We were exhilarated and exhausted. We had pooled our meager resources to buy four train tickets to Vancouver, to see Joe Strummer and the Clash in concert. Their performance had been extraordinary (and even featured a mini-riot, midway through). But after the show, we had no money left, and nowhere to stay.

The four of us were discussing this state of affairs when a little boy appeared out of nowhere. It was near midnight, and the Clash, DOA and Ray Campiís Rockabilly Rebels had long since finished their respective performances. Roadies were up on stage, packing up the Clashís gear. The little boy looked to be about seven or eight. He was picking up flashcubes left behind by the departed fans.

We started talking to the boy. It turned out he was the son of Mickey Gallagher, the keyboardist the Clash had signed on for the bandís London Calling tour of North America. His father appeared, looking for him. And then, within a matter of minutes, Topper Headon appeared, looking for the Gallaghers.

Topper Headon was admittedly not much to look at: he was stooped, slight and pale, with spiky hair and a quiet manner. But he was The Drummer For The Clash, and had supplied beats for them going back almost to their raw eponymous first album, the one that had changed our lives forever. We were in awe.

Topper asked us where we were from and what we thought of the show. When he heard that we had no place to stay, he said: ìWell, youíd better come backstage with me, then.î

Sprawled out in a spartan PNE locker room, Strummer was chatting with lead guitarist Mick Jones and bassist Paul Simonon, along with some Rastafarians and a few of the Rockabilly Rebels. They were all stoned, and grousing about an unnamed promoter of the Vancouver show, who had refused to let them play until he was paid his costs. The Clash, like us, had no money. That made us love them even more.

photo unknown

Joe Strummer, with his squared jaw and Elvis-style hairdo, didnít seem to care about the bandís money woes. While Mick Jones flirted with my girlfriend, Strummer started questioning me about my Clash T-shirt. It was homemade, and Strummer was seemingly impressed by it. I could barely speak. There I was, speaking with one of the most important rockínírollers ever to walk the Earth ñ and he was acting just like a regular guy. Like he wasnít anything special.

But he was, he was. From their first incendiary album in 1977 (wherein they raged against racism, and youth unemployment, and hippies), to their final waxing as the real Clash in 1982 (the cartoonish Combat Rock, which signaled the end was near, and appropriately so), Strummer was the actual personification of everything that was the Clash. They were avowedly political and idealistic; they were unrelentingly angry and loud; most of all, they were smarter and more hopeful than the other punk groups, the cynical, nihilistic ones like the Sex Pistols. They believed that the future was worth fighting for.

The Clash were the ones who actually read books ñ and encouraged their fans to read them, too. They wrote songs that emphasized that politics were important (and, in my own case, taught me that fighting intolerance, and maintaining a capacity for outrage, was always worthwhile). They were the first punk band to attempt to unify disparate cultures ñ for example, introducing choppy reggae and Blue Beat rhythms to their music.

They werenít perfect, naturally. Their dalliances with rebel movements like the Sandinistas, circa 1980, smacked of showy dilettante politics. But they werenít afraid to take risks, and make mistakes.

Born John Graham Mellor in 1952 in Turkey to the son of a diplomat, Strummer started off as a busker in London, and then formed the 101ers, a pub rock outfit, in 1974. Two years later, he saw the Pistols play one of their first gigs. Strummer, Jones and Simonon immediately formed the Clash, and set about rewriting the rules.

While political, they also knew how to put together good old rockíníroll. Strummer and Jones effectively became the punk worldís Lennon and McCartney, churning out big hits in Britain, and attracting a lot of favourable critical acclaim in North America. Some of their singles, ëWhite Man in Hammersmith Palaisí and ëComplete Control,í are among the best rockíníroll 45s ñ ever. Their double London Calling LP is regularly cited as one of historyís best rock albums.

After the Clash broke up, Strummer played with the Pogues, wrote soundtrack music and formed a new group, the world beat-sounding Mescaleros. He married, and became a father. But he never again achieved the adulation that greeted the Clash wherever they went.

Strummer didnít seem to care. When I saw him for the last time ñ at a show in one of HMVís stores on Yonge Street in July 2001, which (typically) he agreed to give at no cost ñ Strummer and his Mescaleros stomped around on the tiny stage, having the time of their lives. They didnít play any Clash songs, but that was okay by us. Joe Strummerís joy was infectious, that night.

As the gig ended, Strummer squatted at the edge of the stage ñ sweaty, resplendent, grinning ñ to speak with the fans gathered there. They looked about as old as I was, when I first met him back in October 1979. As corny as it sounds, it was a magical moment, for me: I just watched him for a while, the voice of my generation, speaking to the next one.

I hope they heard what he had to say.

Different story this time around! Admittedly, they now had big time management company calling the shots, but this visit they totally alienated the local punks, their biggest allies. I showed up their biggest fan, and left feeling disillusioned, disgusted, frustrated & confused. That grafitti on the tour bus says it all, it spoke for all of us, and we cheered when we saw it. I took the bus home and wrote a scathing put-down in my juvenile fanzine, I was 15 years old! I never saw them again and never wanted to. I have regained some respect for them over the years, but seeing them more as another rock band, not as the punk vanguards they were. Seeing them more realistically, in other words, and thus able to appreciate them anew. But hey, that doesnt mean I forgive them!! RIP Joe!

The attached photos were taken by me, shortly before feeling cheated, putting the camera away, and began heckling the band along with everyone else I knew.
photo unknown

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Joe Strummer's Blue Suede Shoes
Jon Doe MySpace Blog

Hmmm...let's see now...

It's 1978 or 1979 in Vancouver BC (hey, don't expect me to remember everything - shit, we were in the middle a musical/cultural revolution of sorts! ahem...) and The Clash are flying into town to play their very first North American gig ever in our fair city, before they head out to try and conquer the place on their 'Pearl Harbor' tour. The guys are in town for a week or so before they play the gig and head off. Back in those days the Van. alt. scene was pretty small - a couple of hundred people perhaps; and even that may be slightly overoptimistic. The Clash had a reputation for mixing with their fans; a sort of anti-rock star stance that brought them a very vociferous and dedicated following whenever they rolled into town. Back then there were only really 3 'big' bands if you were a true punk rocker: The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, and The Clash. So having the guys in town was a very special occasion for us all. Everyone knew where they would be staying, as all UK punk/new wave acts that came to town wound up at the same hotel - The Denman Inn.

The border authorities, purveyors of happiness that they were, had confiscated the guy's wristbands upon their arrival, as they were deemed 'offensive weapons' - which of course they weren't. Millions of people around the world wear them today - but back then I guess they must've seemed pretty shocking to some...We had firsthand experience with this; back then Vancouver police would, after throwing you up against the hood of the cop car, spreading your legs and doing a serious body search, remove any wristbands from you, then be on their merry way...So we decided this was a very UN-cool reception for the guys in the band - hardly what you'd call a warm welcome anyhow - and that we would have to rectify the situation immediately. Several of us picked up some nice yet serious studs from a head shop downtown and put together a pair of wristbands for each of the guys, while someone else located the other prime ingredient The Clash felt they would need for this tour - a very large bag of premium smoke. Heheh...All these items were delivered by someone down the line somewhere, and the boys were very happy and grateful.

photo unknown

Invites were sent out to the band to come to various parties, gigs etc. before they were to play later the next week, which, whenever possible, they duly accepted. One of those invites was to check out a local young punk band who were to play at our tiny, hole-in-the-wall club of the moment - The Windmill Club, which used to be located on Granville street near the bridge. Luckily for me (although I havta admit to being scared shitless at the prospect) I was the guitarist of this band. The Rabid was our name, and mayhem was our game :) So Joe Strummer and a few of The Clash crew show up a few minutes before we go on...Joe's looking super cool in shades; they take a table at the back of the club and just chill out. The highlight of the show was when I accidentally brought a towering stack of Marshall & Fender amps crashing down around my ears after one particularly slick stage move (heheh) - but people were able to get the rig uprighted again, with no damage done....

The very next day a game of football with The Clash had been arranged. This is of course 'world football' a.k.a. soccer to us N.Americans. This always seemed to be a traditional way for most non-N.American bands to chill out, aquaint themselves with the natives (us), & get a little exercise while in town for a gig. Over the years we played many bands at 'football' but The Clash game was the first and most memorable one. Paul Simenon was particularly dirty; I had Doc Martin-shaped bruises all over my ankles for a few days afterwards, but hell it was a gas! I think Paul's philosophy was if ya can't win fairly - win any way you can...heheh. Boy, could that guy swing a size 11 Doc Martin with lethal abandon & accuracy! I wonder how many other young punks around the country had a slight limp after a Clash visit that month?...Joe had a few kind words for me before kick-off re: the gig the night before; which for a 16 year old guitarist, was pretty damn cool. These guys just could do no wrong it seemed....After a few hours, in which I seemed to remember The Clash won, the wounded were helped off the field of play & the blood mopped up. Then it was back to home/hotel for all participants in order to get cleaned up for the traditional weekend house party. Needless to say, a great drunken time was had by The Clash & everyone that night.

After somehow managing to scrounge up the cash to pay for my ticket (it was the guest list for me after this experience...) I grabbed a bus on the night of the big gig and duly arrived at the doors of The Commodore Ballroom on Granville street - joining dozens of friends in the lineup - the anticipation was palpable. As I came to the door and handed over my ticket to the big lug there - the dreaded question came up...'Let's see your ID...' Shit! I never carried ID with me (made it just a little TOO easy for the cops that inevitably harassed you all over town) plus, I was underage anyhow; so a fat lotta good ID would've done me anyhow...This was a bad situation; here I was, about to see the most important gig of my 16 year old life - and I couldn't even get in the door! This is when I remembered the stories I had heard coming out of England about The Clash helping their fans out...This was, dear reader, desperate stuff! I sent word through people I knew who were working for the promoter to inform The Clash that I was out here and seriously screwed. Many minutes passed by, but they felt like hours as I watched hundreds of others filing through those damn doors...Suddenly, a tap on the shoulder! 'Are you Jon?' a cockney accent says. I turn around and there is The Clash's tour DJ, and their roadie extroardinaire Johnny Green wearing his weird, oversized white-rimmed shades. 'Yep, that's me' says I. 'Come with us' replies Johnny in a military tone. We march past the door, around the back into the alley, past the bouncer guarding the rear stage entrance like three spiky-haired storm troopers on serious business - straight into the backstage area. Johnny slaps a backstage pass labeled 'Clash:Crew' onto the front of my leather jacket. 'Wanna beer kid?' 'Sure...' So, beer in hand, protection in the form of Johnny Green & the boys, I get to see the whole thing from the stage side. Pretty damn cool.

photo unknown

As Joe comes off the stage after the encore, I'm just kinda standing there. What does one say to the voice of your generation as he steps towards you with his sweaty Telecaster in hand? 'Cool shoes Joe' was all I could muster! heheh... Joe had on these bright blue suede Brothel Creepers - the kind English Teddy Boys always wore. Very 1950's - very cool. These baby's were just not available anywhere in Vancouver at the time - so I guess the shoes were the only comment I could come up with in my semi-confused state. :) A little later on as everyone was preparing to leave, Joe, bringing this straight-looking dude with him, makes a beeline towards me. 'This is Sandy Pearlman. He's our producer. There's no room in our cab, so I want you to take him back to our hotel in another cab, ok?' says Joe. 'You won't let me down, right?' 'Don't worry Joe, I'll get him there man...' I reply. So...out the back, hail a cab down, jump in with Sandy Pearlman (producer of 'Give Em Enough Rope') and a friend of mine called Grant - and off we speed into the wet neon night. Arriving at the hotel, Sandy ambles off upstairs to see the band (we assume) whilst me and my pal sit in the lobby waiting to see if anyone needs directions to the big after-gig party. After 30 minutes or so, Joe strides out through the big brass elevator doors with a few of the crew holding a brown paper bag in his hand. Joe throws it into my lap...'Here ya go..' I open it up, and there inside sit a pair of blue suede Brothel Creepers! 'Shit, thanks Joe!'
We order half a dozen cabs at the front desk, I hop in with Joe and a few others and off we go to the big party.

I nearly crippled myself trying to wear those damn shoes for a few weeks. Joe had an imposing & charismatic personality - a born leader really - but he was a little guy. Those shoes were murder for a 6 footer! I later begrudgingly donated them to a much shorter friend who could actually wear them. That person went on to become a very wealthy manager of several world-reknown musicians.....I wonder if he still has them? One day I'll have to look into it... :) Jon.

I read this entry not too long after you posted it, but neglected to comment. It's a great story. That Clash gig was pretty pivotal for the Vancouver scene. Thanks Jon!
Posted by Sean


Toronto Star Dec. 24, 2002

Warren Kinsella, author of Fury's Hour

18 Oct 79
Vancover Ubyssey Review pg3 & pg8

The Clash Turn Pro (Sort of )
Sounds Tour Report
(St Paul & Chicago mainly)
Peter Silverton, Sounds,
29 September 1979
TUESDAY LUNCHTIME: Cleveland Airport. With a couple of hours to kill before my one-stop-only flight to Minneapolis and the first date on the Clash’s second American Tour...

The Last Gang in The West Leaves Town
NME 13 & 20 Oct Paul Morley
Paul Morley of the NME travels on the tour bus from Detroit on the 17th through to New York on the 21st interviewing and following the band.
DETAILS: The Scene. The Clash on tour of America. There's a glamorous image, with a confident, crusading edge to it. The Clash: a lot of hope and responsibility there. America: it still means a lot. Clash's current six week coast to coast tip to toe tour of the United States Of America is their first major assault

Clash USA 79 - Ray Lowry
The shape I'm In
NME - 6 Oct 1979
Ray Lowry Clash Take the 5th Tour Notes Pt1

Clash USA 79 - Ray Lowry
Brother Creepers Over America or Suedes over the States
NME - 13 Oct 1979
Ray Lowry Clash Take the 5th Tour Notes Pt2

Clash USA 79 - Ray Lowry
Have you heard the news, theres good rocking ronight
NME - 20 Oct 1979
Ray Lowry Clash Take the 5th Tour Notes Pt3

Clash Extension
Unknown / Tour News
15 August 79
The Clash who started a lengthy American Tour last week are due to tour Britain in November to tie in with the release of their new album. Tha band's American Tour, which included the Monterey Festival last week

Jenny Lens
Clash Photographer 1979-1981
I shot the Clash from February 1979 to June 1980. I didn’t bring my camera to the Sausalito Swap Meet, February 3, and ran into them and Johnny Green. I said hello, but too shy to tell them who I was or inquire about photo passes. Their debut California gigs were discussed in San Francisco at the Ramada Inn press conference

The Clash Play Revolution Rock
Chris Salewicz, Trouser Press, March 1980
IT'S FOUR days before Christmas. A dark, early evening damp with snow and rain. Immediately south of the Thames, in the inappropriately genteel Victorians... end of Tour chaos in LA.

Melody Maker front cover only
29 December 1979
Strummer on the Rebound

Sep 8 Monterey CA, USA...Tribal Stomp festival
Sep 12 Civic Centre, Saint Paul MN, USA
Sep 14 Aragon Ballroom, Chicago IL, USA
Sep 17 Masonic Temple, Detroit MI, USA
Sep 18 Cleveland, USA
A Riot of Our Own dates this gig pg194. However local fans believe Cleveland show never happened, the book reference notwithstanding.  "I was 18 at the time and very tuned in to the music scene in the area.  I missed the Agora show because I wasn't 18 at the time.  In September I was and there is no way I would have missed that.  I lived in Akron, OH, a one hour drive.  I have checked all local newspapers and muic papers and there is no announcement of that show nor any review. Ray Sferra"
Sep 19 Orpheum Theater, Boston MA, USA
FYI, Clash played the Orpheum Boston twice during the Take the 5th tour.I believe it was Sept. 19 & 20, and the NY shows were later. I was at all four but I can't remember the date breakdown Good site. Paul Sherman??
Sep 20 Palladium, New York NY, USA
Sep 21 Palladium, New York NY, USA
...famous photo of Paul from the London Calling sleeve taken on this night
Sep 22 Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia PA, USA
Sep 25 St Denis Theatre, Montreal, Canada
Sep 26 O’Keefe Centre, Toronto, Canada
Sep 28 Clark University, Worcester MA, USA
I missed them for both the 1st two Boston shows (Harvard Sq. Theatre and the Orpheum) but then I heard thru the grapevine that they were playing at Clark University on 9/28/79.  So we drove down and got in line.  Original scheduled to be in the field house, the promoters (I think it was a student organization) sold almost no advance tickets, and moved it to a smaller auditorium the day of the show.  Then 100s of punks from Boston showed up and bought tickets, and they kept selling tickets.  Terribly overcrowded, fire department came and made a few hundred leave the hall, but as soon as they left, Strummer says "There's a buncha fans out there that paid to see us, and they're stuck outside, but if everybody stays cool, and don't push, we can let them inside."  The Heart breakers opened. That show changed my life.  Cliche but true.  Anyway, I still have the ticket stub.  Rick
Sep 29 Ritchie Colisseum, College Park MD, USA
Oct 2 The Agora, Atlanta GA, USA
Oct 4 Armadillo Club, Austin TX, USA
referenced in Johnny Greens Book, A Riot of Our Own p206 and also by Ray Lowry on page 73 of Mojo (UK Music Mag) No.9 Aug 94 where he says the heat was scorching... see also [Joe Elys acordian player]

Joe; Back to London in 1979 for another tour. The Clash come to the show (Ely's) at the Venue Theater and invited the (Ely's) band to come to studio where they are recording London Calling. Became friends and (the Clash) showed the Lubbock boys around the London scene. The Clash come to America later in 1979. The two bands play several shows together including Houston, Dallas, Laredo, LA and the Monterey Pop Festival. Joe invites them to come to Lubbock to do a show together. They stay for several days mesmerized by the dusty home of Buddy Holly and the strange cowboy culture. In return the Clash invite Joe the following year to come to London for their London Calling Tour.

Oct 5 Cullen Auditorium, Houston TX, USA
dates from [Joe Elys acordian player]. also referenced in Johnny Greens Book, A Riot of Our Own p206
Oct 6 Palladium, Dallas, USA
this is often dated as the 6th and it may have been, but in order to fit the sequence of events in Greens book, A Riot of Our Own it would have to be before that, maybe the 4th.
Oct 7
Rocks Club [The Rox], Lubbock TX, USA
referenced in Johnny Greens Book, A Riot of Our Own, p207, where the band went to play a unofficial gig for Joe Ely (support) in his own town of Lubbock. Green says the band took a couple of days off after flying to LA. dates from [Joe Elys acordian player].
Oct 8? Laredo Texas
Oct 10 San Diego, California, USA
referenced in Johnny Greens Book, A Riot of Our Own p 208
Oct 11 Hollywood Palladium, Los Angeles CA, USA
Oct 13 Kezar Pavilion, San Francisco CA, USA
Oct 15 Seattle
referenced in Johnny Greens Book, A Riot of Our Own p211
... ticket ... photo from gig

"I just stumbled on this site while doing a google ‘egoist’ search. Great site. I wish I could find my taped interview with Joe. That was a story in itself. I must’ve woke up Cosmo at every stop from Cleveland to Denver where he finally put me through to Joe to do a pre-concert interview. You should try and get that from the Oregon Daily Emerald…or I could look in my files. If I recall Joe was getting ready for the Denver show…he was testy and abrupt…and loosened up later. My interview style was not to go by set questions…but to have question points and just talk. I remember asking about recording at Olympic Studios, which was being talked about…and joked that this was supposed to be The Rolling Stones favorite room. No laughter from Joe on that. And it was pouring down rain, with thunder in Denver and it made Joe in bad mood. I casually told him to put that mood into the show. But this was cool. Wish I was a better writer back then.
The photos are by Mark Pynes, now the photo editor of the Harrisburg, Pa. newspaper. Wish I could find the interview tape…I think my ex-wife stole it. Cheers, Cort Fernald"

Oct 16 Pacific National Exhibition Vancover, Canada
referenced in Johnny Greens Book, A Riot of Our Own p213 as the last night of the tour.