Wednesday afternoon, 15 June 1967, was a frantic day at the Pad. We had just gotten a phone call the evening before asking us to appear at the Monterey Pop Festival that Sunday evening. There had been cancellations and they were a few performers short. The Blues Brothers Band were now scheduled for Saturday afternoon, and we were scheduled for Sunday evening. We were frantically packing up, while Isa was at the newspaper office, pleading with Gregory for two days off to drive up with us, and to be given the assignment to cover the festival.
"I got it! Iím covering Monterey!" Isa cried, running in the front door.
"Yeeee haw!!" Mike cried. "Whereís your luggage?"
"In the car already. I packed last night. Just in case."
Ten minutes later we were on the way, picking up lunch at the drive through before heading north to Monterey, California.
We arrived late Thursday evening and discovered that there were no empty hotel rooms in all of Monterey. We went to the fairgrounds and got permission from the festival promoters to park the Monkeemobile in the backstage area and sleep there. Mike and Isa took the front seat, curling up against each other. Micky and Peter sandwiched me between them in the backseat, and Davy shrunk a few feet and found a tiny corner of the trunk to snuggle up in.
Friday morning we woke early and pitched in with last minute preparations. The grounds opened in the afternoon and people spilled in, packing in for the Friday night acts.
The Paupers came on first. They were one of the bands I hadnít heard of, nor knew about. There were a few acts scheduled to play that I didnít know of. But most I did, either from my own personal delving into the music of the sixties or through the Monterey and Woodstock videos. However, the Monterey video was incomplete, very few of the artists who performed being in it.
The Association followed. Then Peter was shoved out onstage to introduce Lou Rawls. He managed to get through the introduction with no problems, then ran backstage to me, sobbing.
"I screwed it up! They wonít let us play now cause I screwed up that intro!" he sobbed into my shoulder.
"Nonsense. You did wonderfully," I reassured him. As I rubbed his back I idly noticed that I was no longer just reaching his shoulders -- rather my head was well past them and I came to about his nose. I realized I must have been a couple inches taller than when Iíd arrived in that dimension.
After Lou Rawls, the Blues Brothers came on. We all crept out to the audience and sat down in the fourth row of seats, Isa sitting in Mikeís lap, and me sitting in Peterís, since we could only find four empty seats together.
We decided to stay where we were and we enjoyed Beverly - a folk singer I knew little about beyond what Iíd read in the Monterey book, Johnny Rivers, Eric Burdon and the Animals -- whose "Paint it Black" Iíd always loved from the video, and Simon & Garfunkel.
After the performances people headed off to where they were sleeping. Those who had hotel rooms left for them. Those who didnít unrolled sleeping bags and slept where they were at. We headed back to the Monkeemobile.
"I donít want to sleep here again," Mike drawled. "I felt so cramped in there!"
"I agree. Man I wish I was still short, like I was when my parents and I would go on long trips -- I could easily lay in the backseat and not be cramped and I got a lot of napping done," I said.
"Thaís it!" Davy cried.
"What?" Peter asked, voice muffled by the piles of luggage on top of him as he dug out the stuff weíd used to make blankets and pillows the night before.
"I can make ye all shortah! Thaí way ye all can fit in the seats!" Davy said.
"Good idea! But how tall? And you BETTER return us to our rightful heights in the morning!" Mike said.
"My height," Isa said. "I was perfectly comfortable last night."
Thus Davy used his power to reduce us all to an even five feet -- except for himself, as he curled up in the trunk again, and we slept much more comfortably Friday night.
Last updated 03 DEC 98
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