Saturday, April 5, 2008 Rockaway, New Jersey
For my friend John...
John Clarke
A Memory
Friday, April 04, 2008
I got a call from my friend Mark a couple of weeks ago. It was one of those calls that in a way we sometimes expect but never want to get. ‘John’s gone,’ Mark said. That was it. John was gone. My memory rolled back decades to the first time I met John. I had become pals with his friend Rocky back in California in the Sixties. ‘Wait till you meet Big John. You guys are going to get along great!’ And there it was. We met and we did get along great. We were all rocking and rolling full time back then. I thought it was our right… that the party would never end. We all did things that would defy the imagination today and John would be there leading the charge. But there was so much more to him than that.
John Clarke was one of the most intelligent men I have ever met. His acerbic wit would strip life to it’s bare essentials. There was nothing John didn’t have an opinion on. It was always exciting to be bathed in his world view. He lived totally outside the structure of society as I knew it. There was no one like him.
We would occasionally see each other at momentous occasions. The West Palm Beach Pop Festival (Altamont would be the next day), there was Woodstock… trips to the Chelsea in New York… Jamaica… The world was a grand oyster with many pearls to be found. It was a wonderful time in many ways. The sixties waned into the seventies and our lives diverged. I would occasionally see him and his family but time has a way of isolating us as we flow down the river.
One day he came back into my life and changed it profoundly. It was Christmas of 1989 and I had just finished the Jefferson Airplane re-union and Vanessa and I had returned to Woodstock where we were living at the time. The phone rang in the kitchen. It was a yellow wall phone… I remember it like it was yesterday. ‘Jorma…’ It was John speaking louder than any mortal has a right to speak.. His voice was always… well, stentorian. ‘Jorma…’ I held the phone away from my ear. ‘I’ve got this little piece of land in Darwin, Ohio. I’m going to sell it and I thought of you.’ Darwin… I had been there in the 80’s. I remembered the area well. I liked it then and I told John, ‘I’m coming out. I’ll see you in a day or so.’ Vanessa thought I had lost my mind but I went anyway. My friend John Hurlbut and I drove down to Meigs County. Rocky was there… Michael Stewart… the old South Florida Mafia. They were well represented. We had all gotten older but there we were. I looked at the land and loved it. Vanessa and I moved to Southeast Ohio… the old farm became the Fur Peace Ranch and I hope I never have to move again. We are here because of John Clarke.
The years rolled by and I didn’t see much of John anymore. We only lived a couple of miles apart but life has a way of consuming your time. The party had ended a while ago for me and I just never seemed to find the time to make that trip down Markham Road. I’m sorry I never got that last conversation with John. That was my fault. John was one of a kind. He faced the world on his own terms and that’s just the way it was. His lifestyle was not one geared towards longevity… not that how long we live is up to us. Still and all, I figured that if anyone could beat the odds… it would be John. In the end he was as human as we all are and he was still my friend. Vanessa has put a picture of John up in her office. It is from a long time ago. He is young and strong in that picture and the bigger part of his life is still ahead of him. We were all young back then and the future was an endless stream of tomorrows. That is how I choose to remember John, and remember him I shall.
Fair winds and following seas my friend… Fair winds and following seas!
Jorma