I just returned from a convention of young capitalists in Washington. They came from all over the nation and from a number of foriegn lands to Fitzgerald Kennedy stadium on the banks of the Potomac river to hold a workshop on how lassiez-faire capitalism can be an efficient, benevolent, happy way to spend a life.
Jerry Garcia was the keynote speaker, or vocalist, as the case may be.
The gathering, of course, was a two-night stand by the Grateful Dead, who are currently out on their annual summer tour
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But the Deadhead was hungry. Fortunately, he had many options down in the parking lot. Other Deadheads, in need of gas money to the next shows in Pittsburgh, had gone to Safeway and bought bagels, cream cheese and sandwich material. Tabouli, falafels and other exotic delights were made to order by chefs who made up in love what they lacked in equipment. But in the end the Deadhead was sold by the faded blue in a young woman’s washedout eyes while she mouthed “One grilled cheese sandwich, just for you.” Sure, the ingredients weren’t worth more than 20 cents, but the profits would be all be poured right into the gas tank of the rusting VW Bus behind her makeshift kitchen. You could hear it in her soft, “Thanks a lot, man.”
Drugs could easily be purchased, and the dealers would gladly give a sample of the goods to anyone who looked like they were seriously interested. Beer flowed freely as well, with service “Wait, I’ll reach way down here so you get the coldest one we got, buddy” figured into a markup that would be standard at any bar.
People shared what they had with those who had not. They passed bowls, ballons, set lists and stories.
Clothing could be purchased as well. Most of the shirts were so original and beautiful they made the Deadhead want to buy them all, from the simplest peace symbol to the intricate fusion of Sesame Street characters and the Shakedown Street album cover. And only 15 dollars, half of what you would pay for a garment commemortating your presence at one of the Eagles premium rehersal sessions that are passing for concerts this summer.
There was no effort to crack down on “unlicensed” merchandise, nor was there any effort to check for health violations in the Hibachis framed in blue tapestries on an rickety table. No one was getting rich, they were just getting to the next show and feeding and clothing fellow humans in the process. Unrestrained capitalism, without fetter or regulation turns ugly when loosed upon industrial production.
