Forever Grateful : Deadheads Gather as a Family to Mourn Loss of Their Idol

As soon as the radio broadcast the news of Jerry Garcia’s death Wednesday morning, Jeff Mitchell drove to a Reseda head shop where Grateful Dead memorabilia and tie-dyed shirts cover the walls.

Mitchell was joined by dozens of the band’s loyal fans, people seeking the sympathy of compatriots in a time of need. They gravitated toward counterculture outlets and record stores around the San Fernando Valley, and to Griffith Park for an evening vigil. They stood close together, commiserating in hushed tones.

“This had to happen someday. But you want to know the truth?” asked the 28-year-old Mitchell, of Granada Hills.

“I thought Jerry was God and he’d live forever. This is so depressing.”

While the Grateful Dead never attained the mass popularity of, say, the Beatles or Michael Jackson, three decades after their heyday in the ‘60s had ended, the band grossed tens of millions of dollars each year and ranked among the top concert draws in the United States. Its blend of blues, country and rock attracted unusually loyal fans.

“Deadheads,” as fans call themselves, spend weeks and months following the band from show to show, sometimes cross-country.

They insist that Grateful Dead concerts provide more than music. Friendships are formed and renewed based on the band’s tours.

“I used to hang around a riffraff type of crowd,” said Noel Neuenkirk, 23, of Tarzana, outside Captain Ed’s H & H Shoppe in Reseda.

“But with the spirituality of hanging around the Grateful Dead, it’s like a family. People give each other hugs and tell each other that they love each other. We all share good times at the shows.”

On Wednesday, they shared grief. At Captain Ed’s, the manager placed a sign reading “Jerry Lives” outside and fans added roses, incense and candles. They also showed their affection for the band’s leader by buying handfuls of stickers featuring the trademark skeletons, skulls and dancing bears.

“We just want a little piece of Jerry,” lamented one woman.

A Van Nuys head shop sold all its Garcia memorabilia by noon. At other Valley stores, fans wanted T-shirts and bandannas. A Canoga Park nightclub announced a hastily arranged tribute by Grateful Dead imitators. A Sherman Oaks music store received requests for any kind of mementos at all.

“Dead records, Dead books, Dead anything,” said Joe Mazzone, the music buyer at Tower Records, adding that the store would probably increase the price of Grateful Dead recordings by day’s end.

And Darin Silverman, who manages Captain Ed’s, predicted a tidal wave of Garcia memorabilia in the coming weeks.

“I’m sure the T-shirts are already being made,” he said. “I can already see the little Dead bears as angels and Jerry as God in heaven. Then there will be ‘Jerry in Hell’ having a great time.”

But merchandising was the farthest thing from most fans’ minds. The young spoke of the concerts they would never see. Older fans, some of whom had followed the band since the mid-1960s, reminisced.

“My mom turned me on to the Dead when I was a youngster,” said Steve Re, 33, of Tarzana. “This was a part of my life. What am I going to do now?”

Silverman figures that the full impact of Garcia’s death on his fans will come later.

“It will hit them the next time they would have gone to a show,” the shopkeeper said. “It’ll be like a guy reaching in his shirt pocket for cigarettes, but they won’t be there.

“No more Jerry. No more shows.”

Vicki Kaniger, 46, of Agoura Hills, who first heard the band about 30 years ago, left work Wednesday as soon as she learned of Garcia’s death. The telecommunications executive changed into a tie-dyed T-shirt and drove to Griffith Park.

“This is going to hit my generation much harder than it will the younger fans,” Kaniger said.

“I’ve never felt so old. I really am middle-aged and I’m going to grow old.”

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