On the Road with Bob Dylan by Larry Sloman Read Free Book Online

of “Happy Birthday.” The crowd seemedstunned, not believing Dylan and Baez were actually up there in front of that tacky Spanish mural.
    Dylan leaned over to Joan, conferred a minute, and then they began “One Too Many Mornings,” Dylan on acoustic, Baez harmonizing along with her arm on Dylan’s shoulder. But suddenly, Stoner snapped the bridge right off his bass and Dylan seized the moment to escape, obviously tired from a day-long rehearsal and the previous night’s activities. “Let’s turn the stage over to Ramblin’ Jack Elliot,” he grinned. But Rosie had other plans. She was entreating Eric Anderson, who had joined Dylan onstage for the last aborted attempt at “One Too Many Mornings,” to remain. “What a beautiful hunk of a man,” Rosie blurted into the mike. “Don’t cover up baby, we want to see all of you Eric.”
    But Jack had already moseyed up to the stage and he soon started into “San Francisco Bay Blues,” a Jessie Fuller song that was popularized by Richie Havens. Meanwhile, back at Dylan’s table, someone introduced Tom Waits to Dylan. “How ya doing, man?” Waits growled in that unmistakable gravel-lined voice of his. Dylan broke into a wide grin. “OK man, how are you?” he growled back. They chatted on a bit, Dylan responding to each of Waits’ statements with a letter-perfect imitation.
    Meanwhile, Jack finished his song. He leapt over a few tables like a cowboy Errol Flynn, and made his way back to the entourage. And Bette Midler, who had arrived a bit earlier with Atlantic Records President Ahmet Ertegun, vaulted onstage, dragging along guitarist Buzzy Linhardt. She belted out a creditable version of the oldie, “When Will I Be Loved?” Not one to be outdone, Rosie regained the stage and cracked, “Let’s hear it for the wonderful Betty Miller.” Back at Dylan’s table, Neuwirth shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe it, she’s like the Borscht belt.”
    But the crowd called Bette back for more, and she sang with Buzzy on the song he wrote that became her theme of sorts, “Friends.” And it seemed like there was no end to this surreal hoot night, with star after star inheriting the stage. Eric Anderson andPatti Smith got up to duet on “Sweet Surprise,” and as the song concluded, Eric gave a humble bow in Dylan’s direction. Meanwhile, Neuwirth was wearing Dylan’s gaucho hat and a black mask, and with his thin moustache he resembled a ’30s Cuban porn star. Jack Hardy led the crowd in yet another rendition of “Happy Birthday” to “the father of folk music in New York, and the greatest man in New York City.” The crowd screamed for a speech and Porco was reluctantly pulled onstage.
    “I gotta no words, really,” Porco stuttered, obviously moved. “Thank God we here and we hope to be here in the future.”
    T-Bone Burnett, a lanky stringbean of a Texan, ambled onstage to join Neuwirth and they did a quick song. “It’s getting hard to work in this room,” Neuwirth cracked as Rosie jumped onstage trying to regain the mike, “it’s like working in Momma’s kitchen. How much you go for, Momma?” Rosie rolled her eyes and shot back, “You can’t afford me, baby.” The crowd was getting a bit restless and a few people called out for Phil Ochs, who’d been on the periphery of the scene all night just downing drink after drink.
    “You can sing along on this one for someone who ain’t here,” Neuwirth said, and went into a slow, stirring version of “Mercedes-Benz,” the song that Janis Joplin made famous. “Try singing it once, you turkeys,” Neuwirth shouted, as Ochs made his way up front. Neuwirth exited and the calls for Ochs increased and despite some reluctance, since it was already 4:20, Phil lurched onstage. He was disheveled, and somehow he managed to grab Dylan’s hat and with his sunglasses and shirt hanging out, this folksinger who had always seemed to be in Dylan’s shadow, looked all the more pathetic.
    He tried to