January 23, 1970 Honolulu Civic Auditoriom, Honolulu, HI: Michael J. Brody (Strange Daze)

Oleomargarine heir Michael J. Brody and his wife, as they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in January 1970

Jerry Garcia was revered by his fans not just for his great music, but as some sort of embodiment of a commitment to higher ideals, an emphasis on Art and living how you chose, above Commerce and celebrity. However you think Garcia himself saw that conflict, there's no question that a spotlight was continually focused on him. Garcia was an iconic figure from the earliest days of the Fillmore in 1966, and his legendary status only grew in the remaining 29 years of his life, not just for his music but his continuing commitment to Music in the face of overwhelming attention and financial opportunity. So even small deviations from the Normative Garcia stand out, because there were so few.

While all the evidence suggests that the private Garcia was an ambitious, complicated rock star, he kept those sides away from casual observers. Although Garcia avoided a lot of contact in later years, he was almost always gracious with fans when he met them, and his interviews were always deferential to other musicians and personalities, whatever his private views might have been. In particular, while Garcia had clearly defined, if broad, musical tastes, he refrained from criticizing other musicians directly, beyond saying he didn't feel their music. It made Garcia seem like a decent guy, a far cry from many other arrogant big mouth rock stars who got interviewed. Thus it was a surprise to see a 1990 interview (in the May 29, 1990 Eugene Register-Guard) for a Hawaii Garcia Band concert where Jerry's only recollection from having played Honolulu in 1970, was:

the opening act, an heir to a margarine company fortune who played a set of "terrible" acoustic guitar

How did the heir of a margarine fortune end up opening for the Dead? And how bad did he have to be for Garcia not only to remember it decades later, but to break his long-standing practice of not directly criticizing other musicians?

Here's the thing: Garcia's memory was correct. An oleomargarine heir did indeed open for the Grateful Dead in Honolulu on January 23, 1970. Conveniently, the Dead's set was released as Dave's Picks Volume 19. You can hear the music for yourself, one of the last shows of then-organist Tom Constanten. But a closer look at the concert event itself uncovers the strange, strange story of Michael J. Brody.

January 23, 1970 Honolulu Civic Auditorium, Honolulu, HI: Grateful Dead/The Sun And The Moon/September Morn/Pilfredge Sump
By 1970, the Grateful Dead weren't exactly popular, not in the sense of, say, Jefferson Airplane. Nonetheless, they were authentic rock stars, infamous even when their music itself wasn't well-known. So the band was invited to perform in Hawaii, despite having no actual popular songs, since their legend preceded  them. This led me to the very sixties, very strange story of Michael J. Brody. Brody, at the time a national figure who had already appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. Brody played a 15-minute solo set to open the first show, but did not open the second show.

A picture sleeve for the stereo release of Michael J. Brody's "War Is Over" single on RCA, released in early 1970

Michael J. Brody, January 1970
A word of caution: this is a true story, even though it reads like semi-fictional madness caused by time travel and a roadie named Precarious. But it's not, it really happened, and seems to have slipped the bands of time.  I will try and give a brief overview, but you can read the entire story here. The background is this:

Michael James Brody Jr. made the news in January 1970 as he offered to give money from his $25 million fortune to anyone who needed it. Newspapers called him a “hippie angel,” a “giveaway millionaire.” But as the attention grew overwhelming and checks started bouncing, he withdrew from the public eye, resurfacing only occasionally amid legal problems, killing himself three years later in Upstate New York.

When turned 21 on Oct. 31, 1969, Brody got access to his part of a trust fund set up by his grandfather, Chicago oleomargarine millionaire John F. Jelke. Brody had graduated from Butler University that year, where he’d been a member of Phi Delta Theta. 

On Jan. 10, 1970, Michael James Brody Jr. — arriving back in New York with his new wife Renee after a honeymoon in Jamaica, for which they’d bought out all the seats of a Pan Am 707 for more than $7,000 — announced he wanted to give away his fortune. He broadcast his phone number and home address and welcomed all comers. By some accounts he was worth $25 million or $26 million or $10 billion; in a report on NBC the fortune was $50 million.

Television networks picked up the story, and Brody was a national sensation. He was flooded with requests for money, and he expressed a desire to be a recording artist. RCA signed him immediately, and must have been the ones to get him on the Ed Sullivan show. Brody went everywhere with his new wife Renee, whom he apparently had only met a few weeks earlier. He put forth an idea that he would fund a peace offering to North Vietnam, offering millions of dollars in return for an end to the Vietnam War. By the time Brody went to Honolulu to play with the Grateful Dead, less than two weeks later, he was a nationally known figure, some sort of embodiment of hippie ideals, willing to trade money for peace and good vibes.

Needless to say, it didn't last. Brody had inherited a substantial amount of money, yes, but it may not have even been a million dollars, perhaps $3 million at most. Now, back in the 1960s that was a lot more money than it would be today, but it was nothing like the fortune Brody thought he had inherited. A year or so later, Brody also added that his "plan" was the result of hundreds of LSD trips, so it wasn't like there was much more than good impulses, rather than any sort of sustained effort. Brody wrote lots of checks to strangers, but pretty rapidly they started to bounce. Brody took the opportunity to get out of New York, and headed to Hawaii, but he was still a national figure.

Michael Brody In Hawaii

The entire saga is fairly complex, and in many ways seems like a bad straight-to-video movie. The entire, bizarre Michael Brody saga can be read here (thanks to Jesse Jarnow for tracking this down). Brody was nationally famous, and a Hawaii radio station decided to capitalize on that:

While Kennedy’s joke was playing out in London, Brody and Renée were half way around the globe opening for The Grateful Dead. Brody’s fame had brought him the gig. The Dead was playing a two-day concert at the Honolulu Civic Auditorium. The Sun and the Moon and the September Morn were booked as the opening acts. The shows were scheduled for January 23 and 24. Radio station KPOI in Honolulu was promoting the concerts, and its general manager, Tom Moffatt, had the idea of bringing Brody to the island as another opening act: an opener for the openers.

Moffatt made a few calls to contacts in New York, and quickly got word back from RCA that Brody and Renée were on the q [sic]. They could be there for the Friday and Saturday shows. No contracts were signed, and no details hashed out. When Brody and Renée arrived on January 23, Moffatt still did not know what he would pay Brody.

Moffatt and Lennie Hart, manager of the Dead, met Brody and Renée at the airport. Naturally, Brody’s presence had already attracted a crowd of money seekers and reporters. Hart asked Brody what he planned to play. “I don’t know,” Brody said. “I haven’t written it yet.” The concert was six hours away.

“What did you do for the Ed Sullivan show?” Hart asked. “You Ain’t Going Nowhere,” Brody replied. He explained that RCA was releasing the record that day. “It’s going to sell over 100 million copies in a month. It should be the biggest record RCA ever had.” Hart laughed. “You’re talking about a lot of records.” He could barely control himself.

It may seem surprising to the uninitiated that Grateful Dead manager Lenny Hart would go out actually meet someone as insubstantial as Brody at the airport. Hart, however--the father of Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart--was quite the hustler himself, and would definitely have been looking to get a piece of Brody's supposed millions. The Dead, although genuine rock stars, were actually quite broke, mainly due to Hart's mismanagement. The very next month, the Grateful Dead would fire Hart, and he would abscond with over $150,000 of the band's money, virtually bankrupting the group. So we don't have to doubt why Hart was so supportive of meeting Brody, and why he would have gone along with the radio station's stunt.

Hart suggested that they head to the Civic Auditorium for rehearsal. Brody protested. While they spoke, money seekers made their pleas. A young man, perhaps 20, perhaps younger, asked for a hand out.
“It’s for my brother,” the stranger explained. “He’s in jail. He just got busted. You’re our only hope.”
“I’m really sorry,” Brody said. “I don’t have any now.” Brody turned to a reporter and said slowly and firmly, “The ones who need it most are going to get it. The ones who are starving and without shelter.”

Brody started explaining about his musical background. He’d only been playing the guitar a couple of months but he learned fast. He could play anything, from classical to rock. But he didn’t really want to be a rock star anyhow. “I may become a movie star. I’ve been offered $1.5 million to sign with one company.”

“Which one?” a reporter asked sternly. It was obvious he, unlike other members of the media, was no longer willing to let Brody make wild claims without factual support. “I don’t want to say right now.” Another money seeker came up to Brody and asked for a dollar. He was well dressed and did not appear to be in need. “If I’ve got any in my pockets,” Brody said. “I’ll give you whatever I have.” Brody turned his pockets inside out and produced a folded $10 bill. He gave it to the man. Brody turned to Renée. “Well, we got rid of our last $10.”

“How much have you given away?” a reporter asked.

“About 5 mil. It was mostly other people’s money that they gave to me to give away.” There was money flowing all the time. And many more requests for money. Over 60,000 telephone calls an hour. “We’ve got two-hundred million letters to answer.”

“Two-hundred million?” “At least!,” Renée said.

Brody was asked again how much he had given away. “$500,000,” he answered. “$24,500,000 to go.” The group passed a holding room full of United States soldiers, waiting to ship out to Vietnam. “The war’s over men,” Brody shouted. “We’ll bring you back soon.” The G.I.s cheered.

After rehearsal, it was decided that Brody would sing “You Ain’t Going Nowhere” and one or two of his own compositions, assuming he finished them by the concert, which was about three hours away. Moffatt said he would pay Brody $300 to appear, and Brody accepted without haggling. He had only two conditions. He insisted that he be paid in single dollar bills on stage. And Renée had to be with him when he performed.

Even for experienced musicians, opening by yourself for a popular rock band in a large auditorium is a daunting proposition. But Brody was not an experienced musician, much less performer, and he didn't have much sense, nor good advice. So what did he do next?

With about three hours to kill and a couple of songs to write, Brody did the next best thing. He got high. He smoked some pot with a couple of the roadies. Renée did not smoke but downed a few gin and tonics. One of the roadies slipped some acid into Brody’s bottle of Coke. By the time the show opened, Brody was having a bad trip.

If it was any consolation for Brody, he would not have been the first act opening for the Dead who hung out with the road crew and found themselves rather higher than they had initially planned. The actual performance went about as well as you would expect.

The Civic Auditorium was filled to capacity—about 3,000 Dead Heads. Brody walked onto the stage. He felt dizzy. He struggled to stay standing. Renée was close by, sitting off to the side.
“The war will be over on Wednesday,” he announced. He explained his peace plan. The bribery of the North Vietnamese with $10 or $20 billion. He was having trouble remembering his plan. The crowd was uneasy and somewhat hostile, but it was as high as Brody.

“If you think I’m a phony, then I’m a phony. You are all phonies. You should give your money to end the war and fight poverty instead of wasting it on this concert.” There are a smattering of boos and whistles in the audience. Others cheered.

“I know you don’t want to hear me. You want the Grateful Dead.” He strummed a chord on his guitar. He then sang “You Ain’t Going Nowhere.” He then sang anywhere from two to four other songs, all original compositions, all improvised. They lasted anywhere from 30 seconds to two minutes. They made no sense, and no one noticed. It was a Dead concert, after all. After he finished, the audience applauded, politely. Brody told the audience that he was too stoned to continue. “I’d like to give you thousands of dollars,” he yelled, “but ending the war in Vietnam is more important than giving money to the people of the Fiji Islands.”

He then called for his salary. A representative walked on stage and handed Brody 300 one-dollar bills. Brody took the stack and threw it to the audience. The bills separated and fluttered into the crowd. Brody swayed back and forth, then tried to walk off the stage. He staggered, and Renée had to help him. She supported his arm and guided him through the side curtain.

Brody seemed to know he had blown it.

Backstage, Brody was disoriented but also agitated. “I’ve only been playing the guitar for five months. What do they expect? I couldn’t get into it,” he told a magazine reporter. “Somebody gave me acid. I’ve taken 300 trips. I don’t want it anymore but they keep shoving it down my throat.” As he spoke, his anger grew. “All you need is love.” He pointed to the audience “Those people don’t love. They don’t have any love. I want to give and all they want to do is take.”

Renée stroked his hair and held his hand. “They’ve just locked their love inside them,” she said.

None of it would end well. Brody and his fiancee left Hawaii. He was still a sensation, still in the news, and he appeared on the Dick Cavett show. By March, Brody had some kind of breakdown, and Renee left him. It soon turned out he had given away all his money, as he had far less than he thought. Still, by 1971 the couple was back together, with a son, and Brody was enrolled at the University of Colorado. Still, a series of breakdowns followed, and ultimately a thoroughly broken Brody committed suicide in 1973.

People often wonder what it would be like if your life was different. What if you were rich? What if you could open for the Grateful Dead? What would you do? No one really knows, of course, but think about Michael J. Brody before you give your answer.