Hash Howard was a semi-mythological actor and drummer in the late Sixties. Living and working in New York City, Hash played in a number of rock groups. Most notably, the Observation Balloon, a basic hard rock and blues band. Some of his fabled heroics include playing drums with many legendary Rock Stars. Sessions would take place almost anywhere there were amps and drums. One of these happened when Hash jammed with Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix - at the Same Time! Also included here is a recounting of the night Hash spent a couple of hours with John Lennon and Paul McCartney (following the Jimi and Eric episode.)

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, then updated. We have gradually added more stories about the mythical Hash Howard. Finally, a site of our own!]

The Observation Balloon

Our band was 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 the web site went up, many people sent in 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!

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 - by offering them one percentage of record sales, then cutting that amount by 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.

The Fabulous Fakes!

In an old TWA commercial, Hash was put together with three other actors, given mod clothes, and made to look like the Beatles, arriving at TWA's terminal at Kennedy Airport, in New York.

They got to ride around on one of those electric carts. This one was large enough for four, 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 were asking them for their autographs! And, they were asking what group they were. So, they all agreed to call themselves The Fabulous Fakes, since people didn't believe they were just 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, he made a fortune in residuals, and never forgave The Fifth Dimension, for forcing TWA to take it off the air.

Hash meets Gene Krupa and the OB hears Sgt. Pepper's for the first time!

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.

"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 ..."

The Jam with Jimi and Eric

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.

Hash Meets John and Paul

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.

Hash Was An Actor

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!

Left on the Cutting Room Floor

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.

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.

Hash and Otto Preminger, Best of Friends

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.

“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?”

They talked a bit while Hash took him home, and Otto promised him a role in another movie.

Hash Jams at the Fillmore East

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 known musicians were going to get together and play; sort of cross-pollinate the music scene at the Fillmore that night.

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?”

“Please wait a moment,” she answered. 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 long time. About an hour into it, non-stop music, Hash had developed blisters on both hands, and they both began to break. He got the attention of someone off-stage, and they came over to the drums, saw his hands bleeding, and wrapped each hand, one at a time, so that he 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.

One of those people, who will never forget that incredible night, was Hash himself. He still remembers that night, when he was lucky enough to get to play with Buddy Miles, and other musicians of note, on the stage at the Fillmore East!

There Was a Club Called The Scene

A man named Steve Paul, owned – or ran – a club called The Scene. Located down the stairs off Eighth Avenue on 46^th 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 43^rd or 44^th 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!

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.

First, the message:
I read your comments about Gene Krupa and I can go twenty steps further and tell you all about Gene. I met him in l959 just when the Gene Krupa Story was filmed with Sal Mineo acting out the Krupa role. First I never ever met a finer gentleman. To get Gene mad you really had to do something awfull (sic). Krupa would take time out and show you all he could and act just like an ordinary guy. Now I loved Gene and always will but the GREATEST DRUMMER who EVER LIVED and KRUPA said this the GREATEST DRUMMER TO DRAW BREATH was none other than BUDDY RICH. Now you want to talk about drums you talk about BUDDY RICH. I have seen them all including Krupa Bellson Max Roach Shelly Manne (sic) and those new noise makers Travis Barker and Ringo Starr. No one and I mean no one played a set of drums like BUDDY RICH. Over said and done. Do your homework and listen to and try to learn something from Buddy Rich. Enough Said.

You say you met him in 1959. That is a few years before the mid 60s, when we encountered him. Without doing the historical thing, Gene Krupa was, besides being an incredible drummer, also a addict. Perhaps he was clean when we opened for his band; we really do not know. But his temper was out of control, for finding his drums not returned to the position in which he left them. Since he did not allow me to use my own drums, I had to use his and, by accident, did not put them back in the exact spots in which he left them.

^{*
My thanks to a sharp-eyed guitar player, Steve C,
for the spelling correction, on 06/30/05.}