..........from chapter 36
In the early seventies, a federally funded program called Onboard, was established to help the locals do everything from getting their G.E.D.s, to on the job training classes, and anything else that might help you get off welfare. The word got out fast about the program, and the locals were tripping over each other to sign up for classes. The basic requirements of the program were to show up for class appropriately dress and appear to be interested in the class that you were required to attend in order to receive a check at the end of the week.
It was the easiest job that most of the participants ever had not quite work and not quite welfare. These classes became boring after a few weeks, and that caused some people to drop out. We saw the same people every day and a whole new clique started to develop. Many of the students were also friends of the band and some of the band members attended the classes too, including myself. The money was too easily made to resist joining the program. The program was not labor-intensive and you didn’t have to use much of your brains, which tend to elude some musicians. This new clique was Ernie's brainchild. His enthusiastic inspiration launched a whole new host of activities in, which the clique could participate. The idea was simple, Friday afternoons the whole lot of us would cut classes, leave school, throw a party. We would cash our checks, make a stop at the "packy", then head straight for the party at a pre-disclosed location. Sometimes these parties would take place during the week as well.
Our first party was huge. There were about thirty people who skipped the afternoon classes that day. I’m sure the program directors were trying to figure out what happened that day, with so many students missing at one time. We wasted no time setting up the impromptu gig with all the usual frills and thrills, Colombian red, Alcopulca gold, black African Ghunji, Opiated hash, you name it. The party started at two in the afternoon and I’m not sure when it ended. I was stoned beyond reality; in fact everything we were doing at that party was beyond reality.
We were listening to jams like" O-O-child"; The 5 Stairsteps, "Only the strong survive", Jerry Butler; "Me and Mrs. Jones", Billy Paul; "My girl", The Temptations; "One of a kind love affair", The Spinners; "See Saw ", Don Covay; "Selfish one", Jackie Ross, etc. I cant remember who was hosting the party, but it was somewhere in the west end of town, and after all the bumping and grinding, I found myself outside of the house with no sense of balance and no one in the house had enough consciousness to help me out. At this point it was every man for himself. It was a good thing, I didn’t live far away from the party, because when I woke the next day, my neighbors told me that I had crawled for about three blocks to my house a they helped me up my stairs and into my house. I wouldn’t have believed them had it not been for the dirty shredded knees on my pants and my bruises to my knees. I must have been crawling hard, least; I can't explain the scrapes to the upper part of my knees, above the kneecap, as if I had been dragged. Maybe I was.