Deliverance = truth, lies and artistry

Here are three views of James Dickey, novelist, poet, teacher and the author of "Deliverance." The photograph on the left shows him as he appeared playing the role of Sheriff Bullard in the film version of his book.

Existence in the form of story-teller & chameleon

Part III – The Author Of The Story

For the sake of admitting author admiration, I heard James Dickey lecture and respond to questions once upon a time at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. It was during his tenure down the road as a professor of English at the University of South Carolina. (Yes, I do get around at times, in case you still have not figured that out.) I have been a fan of his work since first reading him as a college student.

While these posts have been intended to offer some of my thoughts about the novel "Deliverance" and the motion picture based upon the book, and not about Dickey per se, I never-the-less decided it is impossible to discuss them without also including more than the name, rank and serial number of the author, as well as some comments about how he is viewed in the literary world.

Dickey, whose time with us began in 1923 and lasted until 1997, was born in Atlanta, Georgia, and spent his early years there. He played college football, was a combat pilot with 100 missions during World War II and the Korean War, was a very successful advertising executive for the Coca-Cola Company, was a tournament archer and expert bow hunter, was a National Book Award-winning poet, was a poet laureate consultant for the Library of Congress, was a college professor and poet-in-residence for nearly 30 years at the University of South Carolina, and he was the author of poetry books, literary criticism, novels and children's books.

Although I believe Dickey would have called himself first a poet, above all, to me, he was the author of "Deliverance."

Screw his critics, and there are many, more about his lifestyle and his personality than about his literary accomplishments. Not one of us is "perfect." Have Dickey's detractors place their own credentials alongside his, and we shall see who wins.

Yes, yes, yes. Drifting off course there. Back on it again.

Students of literature and ordinary readers alike learned of Dickey's awful and even unlawful behavior during the 1950s and 1960s, just as they learned of Norman Mailer's activities and the stunts of other "big-name" writers. Dickey called things such as alcoholism, mania, suicide and depression the "occupational hazards" of being a writer of poetry. He cited Hart Crane, Dylan Thomas, John Berryman, Sylvia Plath, Theodore Roethke, Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton and others as examples of what he meant.

He insisted the writer of one authorized biography title the book, "James Dickey – The World as a Lie." The German philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer, professed that the world of time and space is "a vast dream, dreamed by a single being, in such a way that all the dream characters dream too." Following this pathway, Dickey believed that the world could be viewed as a dream or lie or invention -- something created mysteriously and majestically out of the void by a "First Maker" -- in which all the characters dreamed or lied, too.

From living his life in such a manner, Dickey endorsed the notion that a writer must unleash the imagination without concern for conventional truths or morals. Society endorses and depends on role playing and lying, and that is the way Dickey lived his life. He said his life was more complicated than that of Lawrence of Arabia because he wore more masks and played more roles than had Lawrence, and he agreed that he was "the sum of all the roles he played." Dickey thought himself to be the chameleon poet/writer/teacher.

This is demonstrated in his "tall tale" about the basis of the "Deliverance" story stemming from a true-life experience of his own. In Monday's post, I noted how, after getting each of the major actors and the director of the film alone and pledging each to secrecy, Dickey told them this "lie." The facts about this incident only began to surface about five years after the movie had been made when John Voight (Ed Gentry) and Burt Reynolds (Lewis Medlock) happened to sit down together for a casual conversation which included talk about "Deliverance."

Another area of controversy surrounding Dickey was the overt (and sometimes "unusual") sexuality often expressed in his writing. I pointed out the epilogue originally part of "Deliverance" in Monday's post. There was another "confusing" sexual element, as well, which the publishers insisted on omitting from the novel. It took place during Ed's ascent of the sheer, rock cliff.

Sexual overtones are present throughout Dickey's poetry. In the poem that thrills me and chills me, for example, "Falling," the stewardess who has fallen from an airplane and is plunging to her death strips her clothing as she descends. Dickey expressed sexual imagery of the stewardess preparing for a marriage with the soil rather than with a man. He relied on his sexual and mythical fantasies for the poem's material. He described it as a "last superhuman act" that arouses the reproductive energies of the boys, girls and fields of Kansas. Read the poem before you judge it.

A couple of other thoughts along these lines before we drift away from Dickey. His son, Christopher, said this in relation to his father's "tall tales:"

"But, you know, I've come to think that my father's biggest lie was about his lying. My perspective was as an uncertain child growing up in a world of small fantasies and great ambitions. (Critics) seemed to miss the point with many of the tall tales, holding Jim Dickey to a standard of probity that was not applied to his other sources, many of whom told plenty of tales of their own .... As for "Deliverance," (the) two rednecks are villains and a deputy sheriff (related to one of them) is pretty vile, but the other people encountered in the mountains are just naturally suspicious of outsiders and many of them are generous and helpful. Sheriff Bullard was in many respects one of my father's heroes, which is one reason he played him in the movie."

Of Dickey's life after "Deliverance," one biographer concluded: "The novel made him rich; but wealth, fame, and alcoholism slowly eroded the talent that made his previous books so potent."

Upon Dickey's death, another novelist of his generation, Pat Conroy, said this:

"He (Dickey) tried to live a hundred lives and succeeded in living about ninety-five of them. No American life has been so restless in its pursuit of expertise in to many fields. He inspired the Jeffersonian Renaissance man and the Rabelaisian hell-raiser alike."

And, as I said earlier, let his critics place the breath of their literary accomplishments on the table next to Dickey's, and we shall see who has the last word.

This has been a sense of the author. This has been a taste of the novel. This has been a glimpse of the movie. Read it. Watch it. No trickery here. You have a finger-hold on the story now, pretty much, which will not ruin either the book or the movie if you are looking for artistry rather than commercialism. If you require used-car-salesman-like gimmicks to be lured into a book or a movie, look elsewhere. No fluff or gimmicks permitted on these grounds.

If a person allows himself to become immersed within "Deliverance" rather than simply reading it, I believe he will find himself in the midst of one of the most frightening stories ever written. It makes Stephen King books look like the simplistic Halloween spook tales they are. "Deliverance" delivers. Dickey has a handle on actual evil in human form. The only other novel I have read that approaches "Deliverance" in that magnitude is Norman Mailer's "An American Dream."

To anyone who actually has read these pieces about "Deliverance," a special thank you. You have earned the touch of my luck.

Deliverance = the personal cost for survival

The mountain man with a rifle and Ed (Jon Voight), with his bow and arrow, face off in the ultimate contest of who lives and who dies, as shown in this photograph from the film, "Deliverance." Purely by coincidence, I assure you, I have acquired a bow such as the one Ed is using and a rifle identical to the one the mountain man is using. James Dickey, author of the story, it is said, obsessively contemplated stars and cosmic origins. I wonder what he would have made of that?

A genuine protagonist or a freak of nature?
Part II – The Story Behind The Story

Until the publication of "Deliverance" and the subsequent film, James Dickey primarily had been recognized as an advertising executive "gone bad." This is to say, Dickey left a high income, respectable career, went back to school for a master's degree (the draft of "Deliverance" had been his thesis), and became a successful teacher and poet. His poetic masterpiece (to me), is the god-awful and poetic-wonderful poem, "Falling," which presents the thoughts of an airline stewardess as she plunges earth-bound after falling from an airplane. Others from among his poems, such as "Buckdancer's Choice," are considered to be better work by the critics, but little do I care. "Falling" is the one that forever resides in my mind.

As one who appreciates those all too seldom lasting movies, my admiration goes toward the acting in this film, particularly the work of Burt Reynolds (Lewis Medlock). His performance demonstrates one of my axioms of life: Put an average actor in with a good script, other good actors and a good director, and he will excel beyond his natural ability. Now, apply this theory to the living of life: Put an average man in with a good script (good and decent parents), other talented actors (good teachers and benefactors at a job) and a fine director (a giving and truly loving mate), and he will excel beyond his natural ability.

Here are a few footnotes regarding the book and the movie:

-- Dickey went to some lengths to ensure accuracy about details in the book. He consulted an expert mountain climber, for example, to make certain the times and the distances he used when Jon Voight (Ed Gentry) scaled the sheer cliff in his story matched with actuality.

-- There are many nuances in this movie that probably only a person who has spent a great deal of time in a canoe would recognize. The same is true regarding hunting, particularly those who hunt with bow and arrow. Dickey was a man who had done both extensively.

-- "Deliverance" was Ned Beatty's (Bobby Trippe) first movie, and it apparently haunts him still. According to what Reynolds said in an interview, the sodomy scene was shot with five cameras in one take, and it was doubtful if Beatty would have done a second take. Much of the dialogue in that scene was ad-libbed.

-- The actors worked without insurance because no company would insure them due to the kinds of risks they were taking.

-- Voight actually did climb the cliff, in sections, not all at once, and it measured 175 feet.

-- Ronny Cox (Drew Ballinger) actually could pull his shoulder out of joint at will, and did so for the gruesome appearance when the body of Drew is found wedged between the rocks in the river.

-- This is one of those rare cases when the movie closely follows the book. Perhaps a decent director, John Boorman, and having the story's author, Dickey, on the set made the difference here. But, wait:

-- Sam Peckinpah, director of "The Wild Bunch" and other violent, action movies, was originally selected to be the director, however, arguments between Peckinpah and executives from Warner Brothers, producers of the movie, ended that plan. Can you imagine what "Deliverance" might have been like with Peckinpah at the helm?

-- Dickey was drunk when his scenes as sheriff were shot. Looks it, too, I think.

-- Dickey had considerable arguments with Boorman and Voight during the making of the film, and was kicked off the set for a while. Their disputes were over changes the director and the actor wanted to make in the script. Dickley was the official script writer, as well as the author of the story. However, Dickey was very pleased with the final version.

-- Doing so individually and swearing each to secrecy, Dickey told all the major actors in the film, as well as Boorman, that the story was based on actual events involving himself. There is nothing to indicate this was the truth.

Returning to Dickey and his story line, I would challenge anyone to produce a novel better suited to demonstrate that an average man can rise above himself. Lewis could have led the modernists to survival because he lived in both the past and the present, and was prepared for such an event, but his horrendous injury from the canoe spill put him out of game. That left unprepared, city-boy Ed to lead the group in the struggle for survival. He did it, by climbing a sheer, rock, 175-foot cliff and, with bow and arrow, killing the antagonist who may or may not have been trying to kill them.

Ed found the inner strength to go beyond any physical or mental feat previous in his life. Still, Ed might not have been able to achieve the task had it not been for Lewis, who with breaths whispered through excoriating pain, told Ed he must enter into the world of the primitive and become a ruthless hunter. It was the only chance to achieve the survival of the present.

Through this, there is the lingering, albeit remote, possibility the man Ed kills is someone other than the second mountain man and, even if it were he, doubt that he actually had shot Drew.

While the ending to the book is very satisfying to the reader as it stands, the original ending might not have been. It would have changed the entire tone of the novel. Dickey's first version included an epilogue in which the "hero," Ed, is revealed to be a sadomasochist who whipped his wife. His publishers said no.

Said Dickey: "I wanted to implant in the reader's mind a couple of things. First, that the narrator without his knowing it, has been a monster all his life, a born killer as well as an 'ordinary suburbanite,' and this one chance episode which gave him a chance to energize this hidden part of his personality has, in a sense, freed him of it. His monstrousness may now take other forms; ones that are imaginary and harmless. That's why I've added the final sexual scene with his wife."

In the end, Dickey conceded to his publishers that the scene was unnecessary and it was omitted. Frankly, I think its inclusion would have ruined the book. It would have changed the character of Ed from being a genuine protagonist into being just another freak of nature. No mythology, no lesson, no good vs. evil. Moving sideways, both some of Dickey's poetry and "Deliverance" were subjects of censorship efforts along the way, and such an epilogue added to the novel would have lessened the quality of the story and only served to fuel the flames of censorship.

This has become so lengthy that I am certain it will scare potential readers away just in that sense. Which means, as you might suspect, I am going to break this post into still another section, which means three rather than two. The third part, centering on the author, James Dickey, will arrive here sometime on Wednesday -- I hope.

At the close of the motion picture, Ed (Jon Voight) awakes from a nightmare about a body rising from the lake which has been born from the dammed river (maybe damned river, as well). This ending is very different from the close of the novel, in which the surviving characters have gained a certain wisdom and knowledge from their struggle for survival on the river, and have grown to live with the deaths which occurred there.

Deliverance = intrigue & the endless river

The first day canoeing the "Cahaulawassee River" creates thrills for Lewis (Burt Reynolds) and Bobby (Ned Beatty) as they shoot minor rapids in this photograph from the film version of "Deliverance," which is based on a novel by James Dickey. In the background, Ed (Jon Voight) and Drew (Ronny Cox) await their turn.

Harmless adventure becomes senseless tragedy

Part I – The Story Itself

I am not certain how many books exist that really intrigue me. (Probably many, but I get caught up in them one at a time.) Since mentioning James Dickey's novel, "Deliverance," a couple of days ago, it has been on my mind. It is an intrigue. It seems I re-read this book, published in 1970, every four or five years. Some time ago, I mentioned that it is not unusual for me to watch the 1972 motion picture adaptation of the novel two or three times just about every spring. Until mentioning it a few days ago, I had no interest in seeing it this year, probably because I had no thoughts of canoeing this season.

The novel intrigues me because it transports man-the-modern and largely unprepared into primitive survival conditions, in a struggle against both nature and other men. It is brutality in the midst of beauty -- the natural, unblemished world of woodland and river. It is harmless adventure turned to senseless tragedy. It is triumph over evil. I am not certain there has been another novel like it, before or after.

From my point of view, I think "Deliverance" easily is a masterpiece, a modern-day epic adventure with timeless literary merit. It is a story of four "big-city" guys who set out to canoe a stretch of Georgia river, the Cahulawassee, before a dam erases it forever and turns the area into a huge man-made reservoir. While their city of residence is not mentioned by name in the book, it obviously is Atlanta.

In the movie version, Burt Reynolds plays Lewis Medlock, an outdoorsman and man of action who is the instigator of the trip and the leader on the river. He lives off the proceeds of inherited rental property. This is a partial description of Lewis as given by Ed, the narrator of the story:

"Lewis wanted to be immortal. He had everything that life could give, and he couldn't make it work. And he couldn't bear to give it up or see age take it away from him, either, because in the meantime he might be able to find what it was he wanted, the thing that must be there ...."

Jon Voight plays Ed Gentry, who with a partner operates an advertising agency. The story is told as seen through his eyes. Along with Lewis, Ed decides to bring along archery gear, and hopes for a chance to hunt deer during their adventure.

Bobby Trippe is a typical city-bred insurance salesman, played by Ned Beatty. He wants to bring liquor on the trip. The quiet, introspective member of the group is Drew Ballinger, played by Ronny Cox. He is a sales supervisor for a soft drink company, and asks if he can bring a guitar on their voyage. "Deliverance" is one of the best action films ever made, I think, in large part because of excellently cast contrasting characters.

The canoe trip starts out peacefully enough. At the end of the first day, the group sets up camp, and Lewis provides supper through his outdoor prowess by shooting trout with bow and arrow. The drama heightens the second day as Ed and Bobby, who launch their canoe down the river several minutes ahead of Lewis and Drew, encounter two mountain men with sodomy on their minds. Held at gun point, Bobby is raped by one mountain man. Ed is about to be forced to perform oral sex on the other mountain man when Lewis and Drew silently arrive on the river.

Lewis dispatches one of the mountain men with an arrow, while the second mountain man runs off into the forest. The four of them decide, with Drew protesting their decision, to cover up the obvious case of self defense by burying the mountain man near the river. Their logic is simple. Bobby does not want anyone to find out what happened to him, and Lewis worries he might be convicted of murder by a local jury made up of friends and neighbors to the mountain man. Since the entire valley eventually will be covered by a large lake through the construction of a dam, they assume that no one ever will find the body.

Running rapids on the flight down river, Drew is killed. His death is a mystery because his behavior had been strange and awkward moments before he capsizes his canoe in the rapids. Lewis is certain Drew was shot before the canoe capsized and they went into the water. There seems to be little doubt they are being stalked, and the natural assumption is that the stalker is the surviving mountain man who is seeking revenge.

Lewis has sustained a broken leg from being flung into the rocky rapids after his canoe capsized. A departure from the book is found in that an ordinary fracture is changed to a compound fracture in the film, I suppose to make it more horrifying to movie viewers.

The three survivors are more or less trapped on a ledge at the base of an 175-foot sheer cliff. If they should try to canoe away, a rifleman atop the cliff could easily finish them. Lewis, the obvious man in the group who could remedy the situation, is helpless with a broken leg. Bobby suggests canoeing out after dark, but they cannot pass through the rapids in the dark. Ed concludes that the only way they can survive is for him to climb the cliff and to kill their attacker.

In the movie, Ed asks Lewis: "Lewis, what are we going to do?"

To which Lewis replies: "Now you can play the game."

In the novel, the discussion is a bit more drawn out, and ends with this:

"Don't let him see you," he (Lewis) said. "And don’t have any mercy. Not any."

"I won’t if I can help it."

"Help it."

I held my breath.

"Kill him," Lewis said with the river.

"I'll kill him if I can find him," I said.

"Well," he said, lying back, "here we are, at the heart of the Lewis Medlock country."

"Pure survival," I said.

"This is what it comes to," he said. "I told you."

"Yes. You told me."

Ed then climbs the sheer cliff and, in an encounter between archer and rifleman, kills their stalker. Upon examination of the dead man's face, Ed cannot determine if he actually is the second mountain man, but believes him to be. Ed and Bobby submerge the body, with stones tied around it, in the river.

Drew's body is located down river, hung up between rocks. There is speculation whether he drowned or whether a mark on his head was made by a bullet graze. Lewis is the deciding factor: "Grazed," he says.

With Lewis incapacitated with the broken leg and Ed having eliminated the second mountain man, Ed has emerged as the defacto leader. He makes the decision to sink Drew's body in the river as well, to avoid questions about his death.

It is the fait accompli: "A faint light came through Bobby's eyes, then either darkened or died. 'There’s no end to it,' he said. 'No end.'"

Upon reaching "civilization," the three report their "accident" in the rapids and their "missing" friend. They "survive" questioning from the local sheriff, played by author Dickey in the movie, and return to their "big-city" homes.

While the movie version closely follows the book, the film ends with Ed in bed with his wife, awakened from a nightmare about a body rising to the surface of the lake. I believe the ending to the book is preferable. In it, Bobby moves to Hawaii. Ed and Lewis both buy cottages on another lake created by another dammed river, where they remain friends and fellow archers.

Says narrator Ed: "Lewis limps over from his cabin now and then and we look at each other with intelligence, feeling the true weight and purpose of all water. He has changed, too, but not in obvious ways. He can die now; he knows that dying is better than immortality. He is a human being, and a good one."

Ed says of himself: "The river and everything I remembered about it became a possession to me, a personal, private possession, as nothing else in my life ever had. Now it ran nowhere but in my head, but there it ran as though immortally. I could feel it -- I can feel it -- on different places on my body. It pleases me in some curious way that the river does not exist, and that I have it. In me it still is, and will be until I die, green, rocky, deep, fast, slow, and beautiful beyond reality. I had a friend there who in a way had died for me, and my enemy was there. The river underlies, in one way or another, everything I do."

To be continued (probably on Monday) with thoughts, comments, some biographical information about the author, James Dickey, notes about the film and, maybe, an answer to the question if the story was based on an actual event ....

The second day canoeing the "Cahaulawassee River" brings tragedy when Drew (Ronny Cox) apparently is shot, pitches from the canoe and Ed (Jon Voight) tries desperately to main control of the craft in the rapids. The canoe manned by Lewis (Burt Reynolds) and Bobby (Ned Beatty) crashes into the other.

Thinking about a canoe trip, are you?

Being able to hear the "Dueling Banjos" song was one of the fringe benefits from the movie version of James Dickey's novel, "Deliverance." Drew (Ronny Cox), on his guitar, and a mountain boy, on his banjo, cut loose in a race of the fingers to see who could play a particular song the faster. A while later, as the canoeists set off down the river, the mountain boy stands on a bridge spanning the water, silently watching them depart.

Preview of coming attractions

I have decided to write a post about James Dickey's novel, "Deliverance," and the subsequent motion picture. But, I am not quite ready. How 'bout that?

In the meantime, I am going to run a couple of "teaser" photographs from the movie. My assumption (correctly or not) is that most people have seen this movie, but few have read the book.

My belief is that those who have neither read nor watched are missing one of the best novels ever written, brought to life even more through the stunning visuals and the stellar performances by a number of actors in the movie. Until tomorrow .... or Sunday .... or ....

Lewis (Burt Reynolds) fishes the archer's way, while Ed (Jon Voight) leisurely keeps the canoe from drifting too rapidly in the river current. For aficionados, Lewis is using a Bear bow, Bear arrows and fishing accessories. The two men are in a 17-foot Grumman canoe -- all the gear the best of the best.

More truth in poetry than in news stories ....

Politicians & reporters. Do not trust either.

How many times have you voted for a candidate for political government office because you had "trust" in the person? I never have.

Perhaps that goes back to cynicism. Most certainly, it goes to the role and responsibility of journalists. Journalists are (at least, once were) trained to be skeptics, doubters, investigators, fact seekers and objective to the best of their abilities. It is very obvious some journalists are better at these things than others.

Television reporting, by-in-large, is pretty pathetic. Many newspaper reporters are more suited for producing fiction than for pursuing the facts. This has never been truer than it is today. Over here, for example, stands a Republican candidate. Over there, stands a Democrat candidate. Each is presenting his political point of view. Inside that view are personal beliefs, personal ambitions, dollars and cents, pressures from constituents, arguments from lobbyists and friends, and a host of other elements. Between them stands the reporter. How can the average citizen learn which candidate is telling the "truth" and is being "honest" when the reporter has abandoned traditional journalistic precepts and is allowing his personal feelings to enter the story?

Journalists and politicians must maintain an adversarial role, I believe. That does not mean the relationship cannot be friendly, cordial and polite, and even have a sort of friendship exist between individuals in the two camps. It does mean that the journalist and the politician both need to understand it is a reporter's obligation to check the facts behind every word that comes out of a politician's mouth. Increasingly, this no longer is the case. Increasingly, fewer facts are emerging from the spin. Increasingly, there is no one left to trust. Increasingly, people have no choice but to follow candidates blindly.

Returning to the beginning of this commentary: I never have voted for a candidate because I "trust" the person. I vote for the individual who I think is best suited for the task at hand in terms of the conditions that exist at that particular point in time, and this is becoming a more difficult task with every election due to the disintegration of American journalism.

Discovering Emily & rescuing Percy's heart ….

I have no idea how many people browse the "world of blogs," either idly or in a pattern searching for common interests, but it really is a fascinating pastime. My brief periods of exploration the past few days have centered on poetry.

A few sites I have visited are primarily dedicated to one or more well-known poets. The other day, for example, I found one where Emily Dickinson was featured. There was a photo of Ms. Dickinson. Although one of my majors was English, I do not recall off hand ever seeing a photo of her before.

The lead poem on the page was this:

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

Where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

The simplicity, yet the depth of those few words, is breathtaking. I think I have gained a new and greater appreciation for Ms. Dickinson through my exploration of the blogs.

My own studies of verse have revolved mostly around the British poets of the 19th Century. Byron, Shelley, Keats, Tennyson, Coleridge and their brethren, to name a few. English major snobbery, I suppose.

The only recent American poet I ever took a close look at was James Dickey, and only then because I consider his novel, "Deliverance," to be a classic -- a heroic tale told in contemporary style and language. Besides that, it is about canoeing and the "Zen of archery."

Speaking of novels and British poets, may I recommend another of my favorites? It is, "The Missolonghi Manuscript," by Frederic Prokosch. Lord Byron spent the last few months of his life in Missolonghi in Greece, where he died at the age of 36 in 1824. This novel is presented as if it were the memoirs of the dying man, written as he reviews his entire life. Byron, in addition to being an author of the first order, literally was the Sean Connery/Jim Morrison/Brad Pitt of his time. Among the ingredients of the novel is an account of the death by drowning of Percy Shelley, his funeral pyre and the snatching of his heart from the flames as a macabre memento. Something for everyone.

Music Note: Listening to The Doors ....
Specifically, “Absolutely Live” ....
(Another California connection, featuring the Byron of his time)