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Hash Howard was a semi-, hemi-, demi-, nearly mythological actor and musician (drummer), who lived in New York City's Greenwich Village (on the border of Chelsea), in the late Sixties. Living and working in New York City, Hash played in a couple of rock groups. Most notable of these was The Observation Balloon, a basic hard rock and blues band. Some of his fabled heroics include playing drums with many legendary Rock Stars, and people on their way to becoming stars. Sessions would take place almost anywhere there were amps and drums. One of these happened the night Hash jammed with Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix - at the Same Time! Also included is a recounting of the night Hash spent a couple of hours with John Lennon and Paul McCartney, in a Greenwich Village Disco called Salvation.
Follow this link to the photo page, where you will see photos and old Billboard articles about Hash and the Observation Balloon. Click Here to see the old photos and Trade Paper write-ups.
[All content has been copied from the earlier Tripod site to this new site, and then updated. We have gradually added more stories about the mythological Hash Howard. Finally, we have a site of our own! (Note: if anybody visiting this site knows how to remove a site from Tripod, please contact us. The Tripod Hash Howard Tribute Site is the Web Site that won't go away! Thank you.)]
We had a kick-ass band, called The Observation Balloon. We were blues-rockers, in the late 60s, who played mostly in Greenwich Village, in New York City. Robert Kulick played lead guitar, Martin Davidoff played bass, and Ron Umile played rhythm guitar and was the lead singer. I played drums.
Over time, since this site went up, many people have sent email, asking who my favorite band member was. It's really a toss-up.
While Robert (Bob) Kulick, was still only seventeen, he was as good as Clapton and Hendrix. And I know, since I did get to play with Hendrix and Clapton together. Unfortunately, I lost track of Bob until a couple of years ago when, using the Internet's incredible search capabilities, I found out that Bob had indeed "made it!"
But there was another band member, Marty Davidoff, the bass player. He was a big fan of Mose Allison, played "walking bass," and was the quiet one of the group. Marty was a superb bass player and I must say, it really was a toss-up, which of them was my favorite. At our best, we worked so well together, that the chemistry didn’t really allow for a favorite. We were one!
Ronnie was the crazy one; as a drummer, I know from crazy, too. He was out there, our front man, singing as if he were Jim Morrison and at the time, Ronnie gave Morrison a run for his money, too. So there you go, three other band members, any one of which could have been my favorite; just depended upon the day of the week, or the phase of the moon. We truly were, for a time, so close that we were, at times, one.
What made The Observation Balloon so very good was the mutual respect we all had for each other. We got to a point where we could jam for hours and not fumble for anything. We just knew where each one of us was going to go with the music, and all moved in those directions together.
Our band, Observation Balloon, never had a hit record. In fact, our only recordings were held ransom by a record company that decided to screw the musicians - which was a favorite activity in the late Sixties. These people offered us one percentage of record sales, 5%, then cut that amount down to one quarter, when it came time to sign the deal.
The OB (Observation Balloon), while wanting to have a hit as much as anybody in those heady days of rock, were also kind of naive and thought that by refusing to sign, we could negotiate. Unfortunately, the record company execs were way ahead of the band members and, once The OB declined the deal, those execs kept the demo tapes, and never did negotiate. I've often wondered what Nina Simone and her husband, Andy Stroud, did with our tapes. It was truly kick-ass rock 'n' roll music.
In June of 2007, the world celebrated the 40th anniversary of the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album's release. As it happens, Hash has a story about the timing of the album's release.
Once more, in Hash's own words:
"We had been playing that weekend at the Metropole, in New York City. This once famous bar was located on 7th Avenue, around 48th Street. They had topless dancers dancing on the bar, but they had a well-kept secret upstairs - a club! No topless dancers; just music by some of the best in the business.
The weekend we - the Observation Balloon - played there, the Gene Krupa Band was the headline band. We were the opening act. Interesting, Rock/Blues to open; Jazz to close.
Being a small space, with room for maybe 20 small, round tables, there was no room for two separate drum kits. So, Gene Krupa said I had to use his drums but to be careful to put everything back exactly as I had found it.
The last set we played, I tried to put everything back as I had before. I was very careful, but we'd had some herbal refreshment, and it was late ... and you can fill in the blanks on how careful I was able to be.
Krupa came on stage for his last set, found some of the drums were not exactly where he wanted them, and went off on me.
Gene Krupa was simply nasty, giving me "what for" and "why." Finally, the others in my band, especially Bob Kulick, dragged me backstage, into our dressing room, to try and get me to calm down, as I was really upset, being dressed down in front of the audience by the legendary Gene Krupa. Bob was especially sensitive to what this had done to my head, and told me that, "Krupa is only giving you a load of crap because you're a better drummer than he is!" While I appreciated what Bob had said, I don't think I really believed him about how good I was, relative to Gene Krupa.
The gig over, we packed up our stuff, and on the way back to our loft, stopped at the Tower Records store - they were always open all night - on Broadway and about 50th street. (Maybe 49th Street ...).
I bought the Sgt. Peppers' Lonely Hearts Club Band album, and after we put our gear away, we all went back to my apartment, and listened to the album. Now, we started listening way after 2 AM, so we must have finished by sunup! What an incredible night that had been.
I will always love Bob Kulick for trying to get me calmed down by telling me I was a better drummer than Krupa. But I often wonder if he truly believed that ..."
I always loved Bill Cosby. When I went to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, to do my audition trying to get accepted for admission, I had used an older catalog. I was only prepared for one monologue. Either a dramatic or a comedic, but not both.
When I got done with the dramatic, they asked me for the comedic. I just about crapped in my pants. My parents, sitting in the very last row of their theater, also had a heart attack, given that they were the ones to get all the information for me to use, to try to get accepted there. I begged the Academy people to give me a chance, since I had used an older catalog, that they had sent me themselves. I showed them the catalog I had used, and they said they would accept my rendition of a Cosby routine from one of his albums. I did the “Little Tiny Hairs” one about shaving, and blew them away, because I even used his accent. They went into the back room, so to speak, and kept my parents and me waiting for nearly 45 minutes When they emerged from that back room, I was scared to death, given the looks on their faces. They showed me what acting was all about,. because ... I got into the Academy!
Years later I met Cosby in a Disco, and got the time to tell him about how I had used his monologue, from his record album (remember, those big black round things with music and comedy and the like on them?), and he was incredibly pleased and proud that I had had the balls to do that and get accepted into the Academy.
We became instant friends, and every time I ran into him in a club, we spent a few minutes together, running a routine about how a white kid like me, from the farm country of Pennsylvania, could do a Bill Cosby and get into the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.
But I still love the man, as he is one of the most incredible comedic minds of this century (and the last one, too).
Remember, Hash Howard was also an actor, who appeared in obscure parts in movies, but right up front in TV commercials. In an old TWA (used to be an airline!) commercial, Hash was put together with three other actors, given mod clothes similar to the uniforms the Beatles word on the Sgt. Pepper Album cover, so they would look like The Beatles. The Beatles, arriving at TWA's terminal at Kennedy Airport, in New York, to screaming fans, just like the real Beatles.
They got to ride around on one of those electric carts, used for moving both people and luggage. This one was large enough for four rockers, plus a driver, and had a canvas top with, of course, fringes. They were supposed to be a big-name rock group.
Hash said it looked so authentic, people in the airport kept asking them for their autographs! And, they also kept asking what group they were. So, even though these guys never met before, didn't play any music in the commercial, and were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe, they did agree to call themselves The Fabulous Fakes, since people wouldn't believe they were simply filming a commercial.
This commercial - Up, Up and Away, TWA! - had the background music of "Up, Up and Away." There was one big problem, though. The producers had failed to get full permission from the group who had recorded that song and, after only three months of play on national TV, they had to yank the commercial off the air. Hash said that in that first, single quarter of a year, he made a fortune in residuals, and never forgave The Fifth Dimension, for forcing TWA to take the commercial off the air.
For about a year and a half, during the late Sixties, I played in a band called Observation Balloon. We had been written up in Billboard, the music industry magazine, complete with photo. For about a year, we played four or five sets a night in the "Café Wha?" in Greenwich Village. "The Wha?" was a music club and was run by Manny Roth, David Lee Roth’s uncle.
One night, during our continuing engagement there, a new group came in to play. This group was led by a very tall, thin man, who played lead guitar, named Jimi James. His band was "Jimi James and the Blue Flame." Another guitarist in the band was Randy California, who later started a West Coast band with his father as drummer, and called it "Spirit."
Both guitarists were amazingly good, but Jimi was all the more impressive due to his height and the fact that he played lead guitar with his teeth! He also held the guitar behind his head, under his legs, behind his back - in short, in positions in which you would think it impossible to play. No matter how he played it, no matter in what position, he was incredible.
Early in their engagement - possibly the first night they were sharing the stage with us, Jimi came storming out, furious. It seems that someone had stolen his Fender Telecaster (or Stratocaster, I never remember which - I am a drummer, after all.) He was raving about how he’d played uptown in a disco, for a bandleader named – (remember, this was thirty years ago; my memory ain’t what it used to be) - King Curtis. Jimi said that he had worked his ass off to be able to buy this beauty of a guitar, only to have to go crawling back (to the disco bandleader) to earn another one.
It was a couple of weeks until the Blue Flame came back. And, it was only for one night.
That night, while the Blue Flame was playing and we were taking our break, Jimi broke his E string. He asked around, and our guitarist, Robert, was the only one with an extra. Jimi replaced his string, and finished his set. Chas Chandler, a member of the English band "The Animals," had been in the audience. He had come specifically to see this incredible guitar player who made love to his guitar while playing fantastic leads. The result was that he took Jimi to England; six months or so later, Jimi Hendrix was a big hit in England, and came storming back to America. (A footnote - when Jimi broke his "E" String, the one who had a spare was Robert - Bob - Kulick, who went on to appear with numerous heavy metal rock bands. Bob was one of the most gifted guitarists I'd ever seen! And I can say that even after having played with Clapton and Hendrix ...but read on.)
A few weeks after Jimi’s triumphant return from England, I was hanging out at the Greenwich Village club, Salvation. I saw Jimi on the dance floor. It was like old home week; we greeted each other like old friends, talking about what’s been going on. Then Jimi asked if I knew anybody who had a loft, "where Eric Clapton and I can jam." My first reaction was to say to Jimi "You’re full of shit! Clapton?" Jimi simply pointed across the dance floor. There was Clapton, already (in the late Sixties) a living legend. Because I had known Jimi, briefly, as a fellow musician from the “Cafe Wha,” it hadn't struck me that he was the famous person he’d already become. And Jimi wasn't in a hurry to act like a Big Star; he was still just another rock musician.
I told Jimi that I had a loft where my band rehearsed. So we all piled into a Volkswagen microbus driven by one of his friends, stopped at my apartment to get the keys, and went to the loft. At two in the morning, Jimi, Eric and I sat down to play. Since they were borrowing my group's guitars (Eric played Bob Kulick's guitar, one of the now-valuable Lucilles - his was an Epiphone, I think - from B. B. King; Jimi played Ron Umile's Fender), we waited while Jimi switched the strings around - he was a lefty. And then the fun began! For about two hours we jammed. We played anything that came into their heads. As a drummer, I just went along with it all. I was in heaven. Jimi was an incredible guitarist; Eric Clapton was equally brilliant.
Though we were in a loft on West Nineteenth Street, in an industrial area of Manhattan, the police broke up the session. Seems that we were a few doors down from a Firehouse, and we had been keeping the firemen awake. But, for two hours or so, I played with two of the best rock musicians who ever lived!
Note: In response to a few requests about the kind of music we played, names of songs, etc., Hash wanted to add this: When musicians in the late 60s got together for a jam, they frequently started of with a traditional blues type of thing, 12 or 16 bar blues riffs, which were similar to old tracks by BB King, and the like, but really were not actual songs. So, the jam with Jimi and Eric went the same way, starting off with something like Blue Monday, and then taking its own feel from there. We played for a long time, with few breaks as we didn't really stop. Eric, for example, would take the lead, and Jimi would follow. Then as something occurred to Jimi, he'd take the lead, and Eric would follow. It went like this for a long, wonderful time, with nothing firm, song-wise. And, according to Hash, he was in heaven, simply going along with the other two guys, who played and played. Hash was just happy to be where he was that night, until the police came - they were, after all, a few doors away from a fire house and keeping firemen - New York's Bravest - awake. He always wondered if had the firemen known who the two guitars were, would they have told the police to let it continue or still asked them to shut it down.
It was late - after 1 AM - and I was in the disco, Salvation, which was located at Number 1 Sheridan Square, in the West Village of New York City.
I was in my usual location, the back room, where there was a panoramic view of everything in the club, with tables and booths; it was generally more comfortable than being down in the dance area, which was always packed wall to wall with people.
And, as usual, I'd had a few tokes and was feeling pretty good, just watching the crowd.
Then someone came walking through the back room, saying, "John Lennon and Paul McCartney are coming to the Club!" When I asked, they said they heard they were coming with Brian Epstein's NY partner, Nat Weiss, along with a couple of musicians from a lesser-known Epstein group, the Cyrcle* (their only hit, Red Rubber Ball; see * at page bottom).
I then left, hurrying to my apartment - only a few blocks away - to get a little stash in an old, aluminum film container; I hurried right back.
About ten minutes later I was again in the back room, and there was a stir coming from the main room. Walking into the back room were Nat Weiss, John and Paul, a couple of the guys from the Cyrcle, and two of the Beatles' roadies - one named Neil Aspinal - who were more than just roadies, they were confidants, friends, what have you.
Since I had met Brian and Nat a while before this date, and was known by Nat to be “okay,” I was introduced to The Lads and the others, and we all sat down to have drinks and rap for a while.
I handed the film container to John, who was already pretty stoned. He said to Neil Aspinal, "Neil, do you feel like holding?" and giggled in the way that only John Lennon could giggle. Then John turned to me and repeated my name: "Hash Howard!” And, curled up in the corner of the booth, he giggled again. He was pretty wasted. Along with the pot I brought, I also brought a little notebook I used to write lyrics. Paul McCartney and I started working our way through the words I'd written.
We got to a set of lyrics I'd written to one of the Beatles' only instrumentals, called Flying. Paul and I went over them and he said that he liked what I'd written. The last word of those lyrics was "be" and Paul remarked that those were Brian Epstein's initials. He then drew a dotted line circle around the word "Be," in my notebook. We seemed to get along very well. Then Paul brought out this tiny little vial, and…
During our conversation, Paul kept repeating the same thing, “Remember, we’re just like you!” I’ll never forget that; the Beatles’ lives were no longer their own, as they were followed by groupies, teenyboppers, and photographers everywhere they went.
A couple of hours later, it was now around 3 or 4 AM, and we all left. Paul and John asked me to come visit them at Nat Weiss' apartment, gave me the address on Third Avenue, and we parted company.
The next day, I showed up at Nat Weiss' apartment building. Somehow, word had leaked out that the Lads were staying there, and there was a crowd of about twenty teenyboppers waiting for a glimpse of John or Paul. I walked up to the doorman, and said "I'm Hash Howard, and Paul McCartney has invited me up."
The doorman called up to Nat's apartment, and I could tell that he was getting the okay to send me up.
Suddenly, there was a loud argument coming from the front door area. There was a very pretty blonde woman, with cameras around her neck, arguing that she had an appointment with Paul McCartney.
To make a long story short, I got to see "the Lads" long enough for them to shake my hand and for Paul to tell me to record my drumming and have Nat Weiss send it to them in England. We shook hands all around, and Paul apologized for the confusion, and said we'd get together sometime in the future.
Today, as I re-write this anecdote, even I have a hard time believing that this really happened. I can only say that I have been fortunate to have met some of the most incredible people in the music business and two of them people who changed the entire world, through their music.
Another one, in Hash's own words:
It is a very long story, how I became friends with Nat Weiss and the people in Nemperor Artists Limited, in New York City. It was, however, related to a Brian Epstein visit to the Cafe Wha? to see a group in which Hash was playing drums. The Group was known as the Hi Five. Since the story can get very long, I will skip the story and get to the point.
The point I want to make is that even though I never "made it" as a famous rock musician, and was actually doing okay as an actor on soaps and commercials, Nat Weiss and the people in his Broadway office treated me as if I were already a “star,” already a famous musician or actor.
Whenever I visited them, I was made to feel welcome. I admit, I tried to be in their neighborhood as often as once a week, at times.
One of the young women who worked there, with whom I shared a last name, but was not related, gave me a box to look into. There were at least 50 or more rings, and she told me these were, indeed, Ringo's rings. People had sent them to Ringo and he got to see them, and then took whichever ones he felt were worth taking, with him.
While I know that Nat did not officially approve them giving me things like that – and the rings were only one example of the goodies they gave me – he never once stopped them. I think he kind of felt that there really was a chance that Hash Howard was going to make it. Once when my band, Observation Balloon, with Bob Kulick, was playing at a local disco, Nat even arranged to get some producers and other music business people to show up with him, to see us play. Of course, for the first time in my rock career, my bass drum pedal broke in the middle of the gig and I had to actually kick the bass drum, to get the effect. From then on, I carried two of everything that could break and ruin a gig.
Back to one visit to Nat Weiss' office ... of those rings left over, I was offered my pick; they told me to take four. I chose four rings. Two were cheap plastic, but somewhat funny looking. I actually lost the third one. However, the fourth one, which I still have, is sterling silver. It has broken twice and I have repaired it once. However, I never got it fixed the last time, figuring that it was my Karma, to get Ringo's rings that way, and have the best one of them split at a seam.
So I keep it in a bank's safe deposit box, just in case. It can't be worth much, as a ring, but the memories of how nicely Nat and the girls treated me is related to this ring, and I don't want to let it get away. One other thing I kept from those days, was a piece of NAL (Nemperor Artists Limited) stationary. If you're old enough to remember what they called 'onion skin' paper, you will remember that it was used for carbon copies of documents. Because there were frequently so many copies, and this was before Xerox or other brand copiers were in every office, they used a very light weight paper for the copies. That paper was onion skin; I still have one sheet of NAL's letterhead, onion skin paper."
[Quoted from Hash Howard's memories of his visits to Nat Weiss' New York City office, the days he met John, Paul, and others from their group, including roadies and other trusted support people, and other stories of how Hash was in the right place at the right time, some of the time. Of course, Nat did not send a certain, special tape of Hash's drumming to Paul, even though Paul had asked Hash to make the tape and give it to Nat. Hash always felt that Nat misplaced that tape, given how incredibly busy Nat was. After all, Nat had to deal with the New York side of the Beatles' business affairs. Hash is still amazed that Nat was able to accomplish what he did, and still look fresh most days!]
Hash also did television: commercials, soap operas, and some films.
You can see Hash as one of the few white radicals, jumping on police cars in the movie "Cotton Comes to Harlem." His big line was "Burn the mother to the ground!" It was outside the precinct station, about halfway into the movie. Look for Hash in a horizontally striped shirt - blue stripes on a white background, with shades on!
You can also see Hash in the party scene of Midnight Cowboy - right there, between Dustin Hoffman and John Voight. That one was an interesting shoot. It took seven full days, and was done in a sound stage up on Second Avenue and about One Hundred Twenty-Sixth streets, in Manhattan. Practically everyone there, other than the principals, were Andy Warhol hangers-on types. There were half a dozen actors, as extras, and an equal number as principals, and the film crew, with John Schlesinger as director. An old saying is that if you can see the lens, the lens can see you.
Well, during the entire seven days of the shoot, Hash said he was not able to see the lens. So while he made a bit on the long days - seven of them - he was convinced that no one would see him in this movie.
But the tricky John Schlesinger had given one of the principal actors a 16mm camera to use as a prop. He was one of the owners of the loft in which the party took place. So, this actor wandered around for seven days, "pretending" to take film of people in the loft party. (Okay, the actual party was only about fifteen minutes of running time; it just took that long to shoot it.)
When the movie came out, everybody learned that this 16mm camera had film in it for the entire time the actor was using it as a prop. There Hash was, right smack between John Voight and Dustin Hoffman, on the silver screen!
So, Hash can actually say he was in an Academy Award-Winning Movie!
Pretty slick!
In one of those classic situations, Hash was cast to be one of two Hippies in the original film, The “Out of Towners,” starring Jack Lemon and Sandy Dennis. The film was shooting from 8 PM until six AM, two nights in a row, on Second Avenue and Thirty-fifth Streets, in a restaurant. They did this, so they could rent a real restaurant, and paid for the night hours, when it would ordinarily have been closed.
Hash showed up on time, went into makeup, wardrobe, and all, and then met with the director, Arthur Penn.
My partner in Hippiedom was Paul Jabara, another young actor who I had known, only by seeing him at auditions and the like.
Our scene was supposed to go like this:
Sandy Dennis and Jack Lemon had been visiting New York City for a while, were flat broke and hungry, and ended up in a diner, asking the counterman, for a free meal. The counterman was played by a standup comic, named Milt Kamen.
There Jack was, pleading with the man, telling him that he and Sandy were really not bums, just had been hit with unusual circumstances.
At the point where Jack was going to say, “I own a Two Hundred Thousand Dollar House,” he looked to his left, and looked directly into my eyes. I was bringing a hamburger up to take a big bite, and Jack Lemon did one of his classic stuttering lines, ending up with hardly being able to say the word “house,” as he saw me eating, and he was so very hungry.
It took two days to shoot the scene but when we were done, everyone was pleased with it.
After the movie was edited, but before it was released, the director, Arthur Penn, told me that, as the jokes used to go, my best scene was left on the cutting room floor! He was very apologetic, but he promised me that based upon my work, he would find another film for me and put me in it.
It never happened.
There was a book about a young man who takes LSD, and what happens to him after that. How it changed his life. It was called Too Far to Walk, and it was written by the man who wrote Hiroshima, John Hersey.
Hash was one of many young actors who auditioned for a role in this film, the script for which was still being written, and was going to be directed by Otto Preminger.
During the first very long interview, Otto asked Hash if he had read the book. Hash said he had, and thought it was a good book.
Otto asked him if he agreed with the writer’s description of an Acid Trip.
Hash said, “No, sir, I don’t.”
“And why do you say that,” asked Mr. Preminger?
“Because I have taken acid, and it is nothing like the way he described it.”
Hash later said that he thinks, because of his honesty, Otto Preminger said to him, after an hour and a half interview, “Don’t change a thing, Hash. I want you for this movie. You’re going to have the main role!”
Over the next year and a half, Hash met with Otto two more times, and each time was promised the lead role.
The script was never written; the film never made. Hash got close once more, but didn’t cross the threshold to being a working actor, a star.
One day, years later, when Hash was driving a cab in Manhattan, he picked up an older man and a very young boy. Hash waited a few blocks, and then said, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Otto Preminger?”
Otto laughed, and asked him, “How are you, Hash?”
They talked a bit while Hash took him home, and Otto promised him a role in another movie.
They never saw each other again.
One night, Hash and a few friends went to the Fillmore East, for a concert. There were a few top bands there, among them the Buddy Miles Express, featuring Buddy Miles, of course. Buddy was quite the drummer.
After the concert, it was announced that there was going to be an ‘open jam,’ meaning that well-known musicians were going to get together and play; sort of cross-pollinate the music scene at the Fillmore that night.
Hash decided to go backstage, and see if he could get into the jam.
He went back stage, and met a producer from Mercury records. Hash asked her if he could play drums in the jam; she asked, “Who are you?”
“Hash Howard,” he answered.
“Please wait a moment,” she answered. So she went over to Buddy Miles, and said, “Hash Howard wants to sit in on drums.”
“Great!” was what Buddy said to that. “Now I can play guitar!” And they told Hash to get comfortable behind the drum kit, cause Buddy was going to play guitar and they wanted Hash to play drums.
The jam went on for a very long time. About an hour into non-stop music, Hash had developed blisters on both hands; they both began to break and leak (as in 'bleed'). Hash got the attention of a couple of the roadies, off-stage. They came over to the drums and saw Hash's hands bleeding, so they wrapped each hand, one at a time, with thin bandages, to stop the bleeding. And that way, Hash never lost the beat or stopped playing.
The jam lasted another hour or so, and everyone who paid for a ticket to the original benefit concert, got a treat they would not forget for a long time. Not because of Hash, mind you, but because of all the people who came up to jam with Buddy Miles, and the rest of the musicians that were there that night.
One of those people, who can never forget that incredible night, was Hash himself. He still remembers the night when he was lucky enough to get to play drums with and for Buddy Miles, and other musicians of note, on the stage of the Fillmore East!
A man named Steve Paul, owned – or ran – a club called The Scene. Located down the stairs off Eighth Avenue on 46th Street, it was a club where many mid-level groups and acts played, but it was also known as a spot where the top people in the entertainment field, especially rock musicians, would spend the late nights, getting together every once in a while, for jams.
One night, the details are a little fuzzy now, nearly 40 years later, Hash had been at the Record Plant with Jimi Hendrix and his band, the Experience: Mitch Mitchell and their bass player. It was one of the first recording studios anywhere that had thirty-two tracks and hooked together, they could produce a sixty-four track studio. Jimi was really proud of this toy, and wanted to show it to everyone. Having known Hash for a while now, he almost dragged Hash along to the studio to see this new toy while they finished a track.
Now done with the recording for the night, they walked over to the Scene, only about four blocks away, just up Eighth Avenue from the Record Plant, which was on 43rd or 44th street, off Eighth.
When they got there, a jam had already been going on. Larry Coryell was playing with Jack something-or-other, from the Jefferson Airplane, or Starship, and a few others. So, Mitch Mitchell went up and waited for an opening and sat down to play drums.
About 20 minutes later, they stopped for a change of personnel, and Hash decided to jump in behind the drums. It never occurred to him that he was going to follow the great Mitch Mitchell, in an open jam, and probably make a complete fool of himself.
But the biggest surprise to Hash, and others, who didn’t know him, was that he fit right in, did not make an ass of himself, and came off after the set to a nice round of applause. To the audience, Hash was just one more top rocker of the day, having fun with the rest of them.
To Hash, it was like being in Wonderland, being able to play with the Best of the Best, at Steve Paul’s The Scene!
While neither Tommy, the Bassman, nor Hash, the drummer, play in organized groups any more, they do manage to get together every once in a while, drag along other musicians, rent a studio - one that has most of the equipment they need already there - and jam for a couple of hours. Hash does point out that having jammed with some of the best musicians of the Rock World, Bassman is no slouch at all. In fact, Tommy Oliva is one of the best bass players Hash has ever encountered and played with, and one of the reasons Hash is able to keep his hand in, playing drums. Tommy keeps after Hash to jam, if even for a couple of hours every decade ...
Hash tells it this way: One night we all showed up, including my roadie. (Okay, so Steve wasn't a roadie, just Hash's very close friend, and someone who could help Hash carry the heavy stuff, now that Hash's back is in bad shape.)
And there we were, ready to play, when we realized that the guitar or keyboard player that Bassman had asked to join us, had not shown up! Okay, there were three or four of us, and all good musicians, but without someone to do vocals, a jam can get a bit boring after a while.
So, we each took turns singing lyrics to Stones or Doors hits, so that we could have a way to follow the music as it went through its changes ... like to choruses, bridges, and other musical terminology that Hash, a mere drummer, wouldn't know for sure.
Not a single one of us would ever expect to get a recording contract for our singing. But we had a blast, blowing out the cobwebs in our minds, and the rest of our bodies, playing truly hard rock and blues, just to be able to play with other live people, and keep our abilities up there. Hash sang and even though the others had a hard time doing chorus work behind him, they were, after all, laughing too hard, they did follow him and sing behind him.
Tommy, the Bassman, sang, and the rest of them laughed so hard they had to stop a few times - just to be sure they were actually going somewhere with the music. But after a couple of hours trying to get the lyrics to Light My Fire right, it was time to change to something else.
Basically, it was a great two or three hours. No way were we going to get our hopes up that Saturday Night Live would hire us. Although in retrospect, we were better than many of the musical acts they do hire lately. But just being able to play, loud, long, and hard, made the evening enjoyable.
If you ever hear of a new group playing on the radio, or even on SNL, and they're called Rock of Ageds, or Alta Rockers, pay close attention; Tommy and Hash have actually gotten something together!
As so often happens, memory gets slippery with time. Tommy, the Bassman, sent Hash a few corrections. In order to get them posted right, Hash decided to do a semi-quote of Bassman's email, to get as accurate as possible. It started out innocently enough with Hash requesting a photo of The Bassman for this site. So, here now, Bassman:
"... checked out the site; its a true page full of rock history. Thanks for including me on the page. I think I'll remain anonymous as far as the photo goes ... no point in scaring children and small animals. Just wanted to suggest a few corrections as the memory and the room when we get together is usually cloudy (wink wink). We weren't jamming on Light My Fire, but we did give My Generation a thorough beating, and paid our respects to other Who, Stones, Zep (as in "Led"), Hendrix, Alice Cooper, and used them as a launching pad to take off from there. I don't really remember everyone laughing when I had a go at the vocals and having fronted previous bands on several songs a night without clearing the room I hope it was chemically induced laughter. :-) "
[Hash: It was chemically induced, for sure! But then, we all laughed as we each took a turn singing lead.]
Here's a couple of other memories:
"I remember jamming at some ... guy's house with Thurlan for the first time, as we twisted and tweaked the guy's originals, in very interesting directions; so much that he was flipping out and asking us to form a group and do gigs. I think you did end up doing a show with him, didn't you?"
[Hash responds that he did, somewhere in a club downtown NYC, on Seventh Avenue South. It was the night of the first episode of the Beatle's Historic TV show, "Anthology." But, you never give up a chance to play for a live audience!]
I remember that same night when the "guy" left the room and the three of us played Brown Sugar (me on vocals) and he came running down the stairs along - with everyone in the house - flipping out about how good it sounded. That was the night we realized that Thurlan you and I clicked.
[Hash jumps in here saying that "we have clicked every time the three of us get together. Too bad not one of us is good enough to be a lead singer!"]
One more memory on that night I remember sitting behind the drum kit and playing AC\DC Back in Black with Thurlan when he suddenly stopped and said, "What the f.ck?!! You play drums, bass and sing? You are a triple threat!" I guess I should've told him I play guitar too.
I remember jamming with you and Thurlan when he brought a little Fender "lunch box" amp which sounded like a killer Marshall stack. Only after much prodding did he finally admit that he gutted it and severely modified it. I think he did the same thing another time with a $99.00 guitar too. That man has skills.
I also remember another jam that the three of us had when Thurlan brought a guitarist friend along who just looked at us like we were from Mars (or on our way there) while we took off and he suddenly realized he was in way over his head.
[Hash, again: That other guitarist had one look on his face for two whole hours: a cross between astonishment and fear!]
I remember Steve Angus being pinned against the back wall of the room by ear crushing volume.
[Hash finishes with: Steve Angus is one of Hash's closest friends, and has been a roadie, in the sense that he helps Hash move his drums at times, since Hash now has back problems. He was pinned by the volume and the realization that his friend, a mild mannered computer geek, is also a Rock n Roll near-legend!]
This is an attempt to place the newest version of "We Are The World," the song written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Hampton, on our web site.
The Haitians have suffered dearly, as a result of the devastating earthquake, which hit them just a few months ago. The song was updated to help bring in donations for the Haitian people. If you wish to donate the above display will show you how to get your donation to the people of Haiti.
There are more stories and myths to be told. If you are interested in more of the unpublished heroics of the legendary Hash Howard, sign the guest book and let us know, then come back often, for more stories.
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Please return often; tell your friends.
Make us a book offer, or an offer to buy the drums we used, when we jammed with Hendrix and Clapton.
Hash dedicates this site, and these stories, to his three nieces, and to their children. Hash may not have made it to the top, but nobody had more fun trying to get there. Always remember, in order to travel the road, you must become the road. And, Truth is always stranger than Fiction!
Come back often. There will be more stories of Hash and the people he was honored to play with.
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* My thanks to a sharp-eyed guitar player, Steve C, for a spelling correction he made on 06/30/05. Unfortunately, when we were cleaning out the porn-related postings in our guestbook, Steve C's information got lost in the cleaning process. We are still grateful to him for his sharp-eyed correction. However, we have lost track of what, exactly, he corrected. If you return to this site, Steve C, please visit our guestbook and let us know what you helped us correct ... please?
Thank you so very much.
[Latest update, February 12, 2010]
