That's where Jaime Pease lived. The time I remember best was a visit that lasted several hours, as Jaime and I kept finding various things to occupy our chemically enhanced states and short attention spans. The house and the barn held so many interesting spots and items of curiosa that it was a seemingly endless odyssey. And Jaime was always an atypically enthusiastic and resourceful host.
Our travels took us through the kitchen several times, however, where Jaime's father stood over the stove, stirring a slow-boiling mixture of water and oat bran in an attempt to invent a new type of cereal.
Jaime's Dad was one of the more interesting Dads in our neighborhood. An intellectually gifted and tireless entrepreneur, his descriptions of even the most mundane phenomena could hold a guy like me spellbound for as long he might care to continue. Consequently, each pass through the kitchen snagged my attention, somewhat to Jaime's annoyance. I remember the final swing through the kitchen, when Jaime's Dad attempted to expound some more on the merits of oat bran to me, but Jaime had had enough of it. "It's just HORSE FEED, fer cryin' out loud!" he countered, grabbing my arm and pulling at me to get me out of there before it turned into another lengthy exposition that I could hardly be impolite and leave in the middle of.
I vaguely remember that in grade school, Jaime had come to school in leotards one day. I never really got him. He was a kid in the crew that I grew up with, and he was one of the core group of people I emerged into adulthood with. But after the intense years that led us finally into the 7th decade of the 20th century, my contact with Jaime fell off to practically nothing.
I remember someone telling me that Jaime's band played a show at the Grafton High School auditorium one time, and Jaime announced all the songs with an English accent. Things like this just puzzled me. I'd scratch my head and say, "I just don't get it..."
But I always was more of a conservative type, growing up. I had wanted to join the Air Force and be a jet pilot, until that summer of love where everything in my head crashed into a half-decade long confusion of sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll...
Jaime went on to make a name for himself in the pre-Wormtown music scene. Playing in well-remembered bands The Joneses, Buck, Johanna Wild, August, and finally The Raw, no-one can say that Jaime didn't live the life he wanted.The picture is The Joneses circa 1970, right around the time I posted about in the last installment...
That's Jaime, second from the left, as I will always remember him.
Here's a tribute site to Jaime.
3 comments:
For a couple of years, starting in 1967, Jamie and I were pretty much inseparable. He was as unique a person as I have ever met.
We spent hours cruising around in his red 56 Mercury, hauling a group to the Milford quarry to go swimming or, his favorite, to "see the ghost" at a certain very old cemetery down a long dirt road in, I think, Douglas.
We got high for the first time together. Ever the philosopher, I remember Jamie trying, without much success, to describe what it was like being high...all that came out was something about "wanting to touch someone who isn't here," at which point I said to Steve Baskowski, who was with us, "Sounds like the dope is making Jamie horny...." He had a way of scrunching up his face and bobbing his head when he laughed that I can still see vividly today.
He was incredibly smart, although almost illiterate; having what I now understand was a severe problem with dyslexia.
And of course he was a remarkable musician. He started out playing the organ (can't recall the name of the band, but they had one amazing bass player, Eddie Fleming). When he had an opportunity to join the Jones he simply announced he was going to become a bass player and he did--practically overnight.
He DID love English accents and used to put one on frequently just for the fun ot it. And he loved his HAIR. We used to tease each other relentlessly, and I always said that he "never met a mirror he didn't like."
I went off to college and he went off to being in bands, and we lost touch, something I regretted when I heard that he had died.
- Jonathan Harris
Jaime was the only guy I ever knew who slept with a hairnet.
Jeff
Jamie was the best rock keyboardist around in the late 60s. He played the keyboard parts for the popular songs of the day and also played the bass lines, a la Ray Manzarek.
The day he announced to me that he was switching to bass guitar he pulled out a brand new Mosrite 3/4 size bass and started pecking away at it with a flat pick. I was horrified but didn't say too much about it. This was clearly something he had decided to do. A month later word went around town that he had joined the Joneses. I went over his house to confirm the rumors and sure enough, he had transformed himself with finger style bass technique and a Gibson bass with an American Flag painted on the front. On that day he gave me my first lesson on how to play the bass guitar. Thanks Jamie, and good luck on your next gig.
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