Ferguson

1970. One evening when we were living on Waller, I was tripping on acid and decided to go for a walk. It was already dark. I was down on Haight at Scott, the borderline between the Haight and the Fillmore (At that time a black ghetto, since gentrified), and this black dude (we called them spades back then) accosted me and asked for a light, which I didn’t have. Then he asked me where I was going. Oh, just out for a walk. Then he patted me down to see if I had anything worth stealing, which I didn’t. Then he invited me to a house party, but I didn’t go. His vibes were great throughout the transaction.