Less than one week later and just when Juno thought she’d reached breaking point, Jackson returned to LA. He had the look of a guy who’d been abducted by crackhead aliens, and was clearly glad to be back. Juno was ecstatic.

Things got easier for almost everyone from then on. The dope was superb, gigs passed without incident, folks braided their hair and felt grounded. The canyon settled into an easy sun-kissed groove. No wonder they called those months in ’67 the Summer of Love.

 

Well, almost everybody felt easier from then on. David didn’t. He was too far gone on his trip, which often took him to San Francisco these days. He’d clearly found some new kind of perspective, and a new subject to talk about, in how great the Bay Area scene was and how LA bands were starting to get complacent and lag behind. It was clear that he mainly meant his own band, and that he blamed Jim for the lagging. Folks weren’t inclined to listen any longer than couldn’t be avoided, particularly Jim, who felt moved to speak to Juno the first time in years one night in the Troub, advising her what a pain in the butt David was. Juno felt moved to defend him. David still adored her songs and was her friend.

Another guy who didn’t dig the groove was Stephen. He took up the plaguing of Neil where Juno’d left off, which became more apparent at every gig. He turned off a great many other folks, too, with his often gruff and puffed-up ways.

But it was the Summer of Love, and against all odds and to the total amazement of everyone, Stephen and David became friends.

 

In June the whole of West LA decamped up the coast for something really different: a weekend-long music festival at Monterey. It was billed as a meeting between the Northern and Southern California scenes.

Juno and Jackson got a ride north with Billy and his wife Judy, joining the long convoy of cars that snaked its way along the coast road. It was like being aboard a fantastic colourful musical train. People were ready for great things, and the sound of bongos, harps or guitars came from nearly every open top and painted VW van.