Reserve your copy of the latest addition to the library of baseball literature.
by Stew Sallo, author of “The Deadhead Cyclist.”
Life lessons on two wheels to the tunes of the
Grateful Dead
Robert Hall Weir, né Parber,
October 16, 1947 – January 10, 2026
Let the words be yours, I’m done with mine.
I first saw Bob Weir on October 19, 1974 with the Grateful Dead at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco. I last saw Bob Weir on June 14, 2024 as a member of Dead & Company at The Sphere in Las Vegas. Over the course of almost 50 years, it was my privilege to see Bobby perform countless times as a member of the Grateful Dead, Kingfish, Ratdog, the Other Ones, The Dead, Furthur, Dead & Company, the Weir Robinson & Greene Acoustic Trio, and probably others that I have failed to remember.
Other Posts
This Week in Grateful Dead History: Week 43 – October 25, 1979
Maybe the dark is from your eyes
There are few opening chords in the Grateful Dead repertoire as recognizable, or as welcome, as the sustained, and then repeated, D-minor of Shakedown Street. Often positioned as the first song of the set, the tune never failed to evoke an amplified sense of excitement, especially as the crowd began to anticipate the extended, often brilliant instrumental jam to follow the final recitation of the mantra, “You just gotta poke around.” Among the many fine versions of this anthemic piece, there are few that rank higher than the one performed on 10/25/79 at Veterans Memorial Coliseum in New Haven, CT, the Deadhead Cyclist’s pick for T.W.I.G.D.H.
I wish I was a headlight
I don’t believe in aging. But before you misidentify me as a wingnut, “chronology change denier,” allow me to define the term “aging.” Within the context of aging as a biological fact, there is no “belief” involved. We all age and eventually die. That is an undeniable fact. However, there is more to “aging” than that. So, let’s drill down a little deeper, shall we?
This Week in Grateful Dead History: Week 15 - April 5, 1971
Goin’ down the road
Deadheads invariably have a great story about the moment they knew they were a Deadhead. For most, it was the first time they saw the band live, but for me the magic moment arrived a full four months before my first show. It was the Summer of ’74, and I had returned home from my sophomore year at UCLA, ready to spend the summer working at a day camp, saving money, and partying with my high school friends who had scattered to various colleges in a virtual teenage diaspora.
All Material Copyright 2020, 2021, 2022 and 2023 by Stewart Sallo