From 1970 to 1980 Cave Junction, Oregon and its sister area Takilma were party central for the planet. Sure, there were more parties going on in the big cities like San Francisco, LA or New York City but those are big cities with big populations where most of the people not partying. In Cave Jct. 50% of the folks partied all the time and 90% of the entire towns population partied on weekends, and a whopping 90% of everybody in Takilma partied every night of the week and it didn't matter who, young, old, hip and straight and in every combination. Hell, you couldn't even go to town without someone accosting you who was looking for some fun.
Once I was doing my wash at 10 a.m. and some freek sticks his head into the Laundromat and says, "Hey man, you got any grass?"
I told him sorry but I was out.
So he says, "Oh well, I guess we'll just have to smoke some of mine." then whips out a hooter, fires it up and we smoke it as we watch the clothes go round.
Another time I as I was bicycling through I had stopped at the corned market for some Gator Aid, it was about noon. I was hot and I was thirsty. As I came out of the store two girls maybe 16, asked me "Hey mister, would you buy us some beer?"
I said that I’d be glad to if they would share one with me.
They said "Sure" and gave me enough cash for two 6 packs of Bud. I bought it then we walked down to the river then up it a little ways where we spent a very pleasant couple hours sipping cold brew, skinny dipping and laying on the hot rocks under the summer sun.
But it was at night that the real fun begun. If you wanted to booze then you'd head for Cave Jct. especially on a Friday or Saturday night. The bars would be jammed with people, the rednecks and hippies drinking together. It was so crowded that you could hardly walk in and buy yourself a brew before some friendly soul would strike up a conversation, invite you over to his table and introduce you to all of his friends. When it got to be closing time or it everyone just got bored, the party would then head over to somebody’s house.
One time I was drinking in the Sportsman with a combo of rednecks and hippies that I had just met when one of the guys, a straight looking dude about 50 says, "Let's go over to my house and do some serious drinking."
Since we were all already drunk, this sounded like a good idea. Everyone, about 20 of us, got in their vehicles and followed him and his wife to their house. It was a big ranch style house on a few acres of tall pine with a fenced lawn. When we got out of our cars he says, "Okay you hippies, listen up. I don't wanna see no fucking. But if ya gotta do it then do it in the bushes outside out of sight, and if you brake anything then you had better be able to pay for it, or by God, I will brake your ass. Understand!"
We all understood and the party continued throughout the night with the heads smoking weed and drinking beer and the rednecks just drinking whiskey mostly. By morning we had all passed out in the living room.
Next day the party continued. When we had run out of booze the owner said that he would go to town for more supplies. The guy, after collecting all our money says, "Okay, I'm goin’ ta town now, but I'll be back soon and when I do get back if anything, and I mean anything, is missing or broken, I will kill the whole lot of ya. Understand!"
Again everything was cool when he returned and we partied the entire day. On Sunday evening after a drunken supper of cold cuts on white bread, chips and dip, the guy says, "Okay, I have to work tomorrow, so everyone, get the fuck out. Understand!"
We all thanked him for his hospitality and us hippies left and went to Takilma to continue the festivities. It was a good party too, no fighting and except for the fact that our host hated rock and roll and all we had to listen to was Buck, Hoyt, Merle, Waylon and Willie the whole time, a fun time was had by all.
Fighting was about the only thing that you really had to watch out for especially when partying with the rednecks, but sometimes even those peace loving hippies liked to duke it out when they got real fucked up on booze. Sometimes when I was partying with the rednecks a fight would brake out with most of the men joining in and the women either shouting encouragement of cussing the stupidity of their men. When this happened I would head for the nearest exit it possible or if not, like the hippie coward I was, hide under a table or behind the women joining them in the shouting encouragement and cussing. If it was a couple of freeks going at it then everyone else would stand around watching and tisk-tisking, saying things like "Disgusting" "Shameful" or "Why don't you two just grow up." When it was over everybody would just go back to doing what they did best, partying. And partying was the name of the game in Takilma. Kelly loved it there so much that she spent two summers there and has many good memories of the place.
To party in Takilma all you had to do was go over to any friends or acquaintances shack or old trailer, as that's about all there was at the time, around sundown and the party would start. After an hour or two there you would visit the neighbors to see what they were up to and they'd be up to the same as you, partying. After visiting them for a while you'd go to the neighbors next, then the to next one, and so on all night long until either you got to fucked up to visit any more or the sun came up. Then it would be time to find some shade to crash in so you could start again the next night.
There was no real town of Takilma, it was just a very large area where hippies and freeks had bought a few acres for themselves among the scrub and lived and partied with folks of like mind. One of the most famous incidents that occurred there exemplifies the spirit of the place best and is still talked about to this day by the old time freeks who still live there, was when one of the long time more flamboyant residents for her 50th birthday decided to be Lady Godiva on LSD. She got up at dawn, combed out her long gray hair, stripped down to her birthday suit, dropped a hit of acid then spent the day riding up and down the main road of Takilma on a white horse, partying and spreading delight where ever she went. Sadly these days are now no more.
We visited Cave Jct./Takilma in 1994 for the first time since the late 70's. Everybody we knew from the old day had moved away. We saw some old freeks sitting drinking beer in the City Park. I went up to them and ask if they wanted to smoke a J, they did. I asked them what had happened to the place.
They said that the 80's happened, and that the freeks had just gotten old or had moved away. They had sold their plot of land to the yuppies and New Ager’s from California. Those who had stayed partied less and less until now it was pretty dead except on weekends and then the parties were not the wild joyous celebrations of times past in which the whole area joined in but sedate private affairs among friends.
When I asked about Cave Jct. they told me that, yeah you could still get drunk at the bars on Friday or Saturday nights. But now you had to watch out for the cops, something that was never a problem before because even if they caught you out drunk they would either just ticket you or tell you to follow them to your home. Now they took your ass straight to jail. The dudes told me that most of the dope dried up about five years ago. That was when a new sheriff got elected, and along with the rest of the "Just Say No” 80's, got tough and busted a lot of people whose only crime was feeling good with their friends and getting high. So now Cave Jct. is just another small southern Oregon town and Takilma a small enclave of old hippies from the south (meaning Calif.).
Too bad, but nothing lasts and I even understand the changes myself. I stopped getting totally fucked up in 1984. I quit getting really drunk, taking LSD and hard drugs. I even stopped smoking cigarettes and I loved those, and not because I felt I had to either, it was I just didn’t need them anymore. Life is good enough for me all by itself to feel great. I still smoke grass, eat shrooms or Peyote whenever they present themselves to me. And I drink beer and wine, have a shot of liquor now and then, especially in a cup of hot coffee on a cold winter’s morn. But other than taking a few pharmaceuticals occasionally that I still like, that’s about it. So here’s some free advice to those of you between 15 and 35 - PARTY ALL YOU CAN! - At your age it should be nothing but Big Time FUN with lots of sex, drugs and rock and roll because after about 45, there’s still sex, though not as often, but then it’s a good meal and a nice nap. So... Party On Wayne! Party On Garth!