“We stand today on the edge of a new frontier-the frontier of the 1960s, a frontier of unknown opportunities and perils-a frontier of unfulfilled hopes and threats.” ~ John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Vietnam veteran's ID tag returned to North Dakota widow after found in Russia
An American citizen traveling in
Russia found the tags and bought it off a vendor
By Louis Casiano | Fox News
Fox News Flash top headlines for
October 1
An Army identification tag lost
by an American soldier when he was wounded by a grenade blast in Vietnam was
returned Wednesday to his widow after it was found by an American traveling in
Russia.
Gov. Doug Burgum presented the
tag -- referred to as dog tags -- to Ruth Hepper, of Bismarck, N.D. Her
husband, Ronald Hepper, 58, died in 2007, Burgum's office said in a news
release.
"We are eternally grateful
for the courageous service and sacrifices made by Ron Hepper and all North
Dakotans who proudly served their country in the Vietnam War, as well as their
families, especially those whose loved ones never came home,” Burgum said.
“While we wish we were able to return these tags to Ron himself, we are
thankful for the opportunity and tremendous honor to present this keepsake to
Ruth on behalf of a grateful state and nation.”
Hepper, nicknamed
"Cowboy" by his fellow soldiers, voluntarily enlisted in the Army in
1967 after graduating high school and served in the 196th Light Infantry
Brigade. He had been in Vietnam a few months on June 11, 1969 when he was
injured by a hand grenade. The blast blew off his boots where he placed a set
of dog tags.
Afterward, he woke up in a
hospital without his boots or tags. He spent three months in an amputee ward but
doctors were able to save his legs, which were filled with shrapnel. He was
awarded the Purple Heart and returned home to Isabel, S.D., after his military
service.
Hepper and his wife moved to
Bismarck a few months before his death to be closer to relatives.
An American came upon the tag
while traveling in Russia, the release said. It did not specify when it was
discovered. The person purchased the tag from a vendor in Moscow and delivered
it to the American Embassy, which forwarded it to the Department of Veterans
Affairs in Washington, D.C.
“VA records reflect that Mr.
Hepper served with great distinction and sacrifice during the Vietnam
War," VA Asst. Secretary James Hutton wrote in a letter to Ruth Hepper.
"The opportunity to return the tag is extremely meaningful as VA and the
Department of Defense are currently honoring the heroes of Vietnam Era Veterans
and their families.”
It was unclear how the tag ended
up in Russia but Ruth Hepper has a theory. She believes Russian soldiers
fighting alongside the North Vietnamese military may have collected them.
American military artifacts were sought in Russia and China after the Cold War,
the news release said.
Behind the Song: ‘Abraham, Martin and John’
By Dave Paulson
DH: I’ve had several people write
some nice things about it. I appreciate that very much. I’m fortunate to have
written that song, but I am sorry that the circumstances arose to let me write
it.
DH: Yeah, that was quite a kick! It was the last song on the album.
BH: This message is to both sides
of the political spectrum: It might do the world good to take a five-minute
break and have the whole planet listen to that song right now because we are
richer for it.
Laugh In
Dan Rowan of the comedy team Rowan & Martin
who brought “Laugh In” to America, was a war hero. During World War II, Rowan flew
Curtiss P-40N Warhawk 42-104949 currently recorded under N537BR and shot down
two Japanese aircraft before he was downed and seriously wounded over New
Guinea. His military decorations include the Distinguished Flying Cross with
Oak Leaf Cluster, the Air Medal, and the Purple Heart.
Tommy DeVito, founding member of The Four Seasons, dead at 92
Tommy DeVito, one of the four original members of the band The Four Seasons, has died. He was 92.
Micky Dolenz recalls ill-fated Monkees tour with opening act Jimi Hendrix: ‘Yeah, it was kind of embarrassing’
Editor in Chief, Yahoo Music
Fifty years ago, on Sept. 18,
1970, guitar legend Jimi Hendrix died of asphyxia while intoxicated. He was
only 27 years old, and his stint as a superstar lasted less than five years,
but he obviously made his indelible mark — being declared by the Rock &
Roll Hall of Fame as “arguably the greatest instrumentalist in the history of
rock music” and by Rolling Stone as the greatest guitarist of all time.
And one of the first mainstream
rock acts to recognize Hendrix’s greatness was the Monkees. Unfortunately, the
Monkees’ young fans weren’t quite as enthusiastic when that TV band’s Micky
Dolenz came up with the seemingly bizarre idea to hire Hendrix as the opening
act for the Monkees’ first U.S. tour in 1967.
Hendrix ended up playing only
seven of that tour’s 29 dates, dropping out after having to contend nightly
with thousands of nasty, impatient, jeering teenyboppers. “Yeah, it was kind of
embarrassing,” Dolenz admits to Yahoo Entertainment. “Jimi would go, ‘Purple
haze!’ and the kids would be like, ‘We want Davy!’ He’d go, ‘Foxy lady!’ and
they’d yell, ‘We. Want. The. Monkees! We. Want. The. Monkees!’ He was coming up
against that very typical opening-act dilemma for anyone touring with a big
headliner, really.”
The odd pairing might have been
doomed from the start, given the two artists’ very different audiences. But
Dolenz had been a fan of Hendrix since the guitar god was still known as “Jimmy
James” and performing in Greenwich Village nightclubs with the Blue Flames. “It
was 1966 or so, and the Monkees were in New York on a press junket,” he recalls
of the first time he saw Hendrix live. “Someone said, ‘You gotta come down to
the Village and check this cat out.’ The actual act was, I think, the John
Hammond Band or something. But when we went down there, I remember sitting in
the front row and there was this young kid, and he was playing guitar with his
teeth! I didn't even know his name at the time. I don't even know if he was
introduced, but he was going under the name Jimmy James at that point. He was
just great.”
About a year later, Dolenz saw
Hendrix again, at the Monterey Pop Festival. Much had changed, and this time,
Dolenz was even more impressed: “Between that time, Jimi had gone to England
and run into a guy named Chas Chandler, who was going to be his manager. And
basically what Chas Chandler did, my understanding is, was he heard Jimi and
then he put Jimi together with [bassist] Noel Redding and [drummer] Mitch
Mitchell. And so ironically, I guess you can say that the Jimi Hendrix
Experience was a ‘manufactured group’!”
When Dolenz witnessed Hendrix’s
iconic performance at the Monterey Pop Festival, he recalls, “All of a sudden
this act comes on, not very well known yet, but very flamboyant — the clothes,
the music. And I said, ‘Hey, that's the guy that plays guitar with his teeth!’
I recognized him. And so simultaneously, just by coincidence really, we were
looking for an opening act for our first tour. So, I suggested the Jimi Hendrix
Experience to our producers, because obviously it was incredible music, but
also very theatrical. And the Monkees were a theatrical act, if you really
examine it. I guess that's why it made sense to me. I just thought it would
make a great mix.”
Apparently the admiration wasn’t
mutual at first, as Hendrix had previously blasted the Monkees in the U.K.
press, describing their music to Melody Maker as “dishwater” and saying, “Oh
God, I hate them!” But once the Monkees’ “people went to his people,” says
Dolenz, “Chas Chandler and everyone thought it was a good idea.” And so, on
July 8 — less than a month after Hendrix had been the breakout star of Monterey
Pop — the Jimi Hendrix Experience joined the Monkees for their first joint tour
date in Jacksonville, Fla.
While the audience was vicious
and unwelcoming, Dolenz was too wrapped up in watching Hendrix’s electric stage
show to actually notice what was transpiring in the venue. “I didn’t even pay
attention to what the audience reaction was, because I was just mesmerized by
Jimi and his art,” he confesses. “We were just blown away by him every night —
I know Nez [the Monkees’ Mike Nesmith] especially was. We would just stand in
the wings in awe. I was fascinated by Jimi’s showmanship, by his persona. All I
knew was, I liked it. And to this day, I don't care much what people thought.”
Hendrix apparently did care what
people thought, as he decided to quit the Monkees’ tour just eight days later,
after dates in Miami, North Carolina, and a three-night run at New York City’s
Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. Later, a seemingly bitter Hendrix told British
music paper the NME that he’d been replaced by “Mickey Mouse.” Dolenz can
neither deny nor confirm the longstanding rumor that Hendrix flipped the bird
at the combative crowd during that final NYC show, though he quips, “I've never
seen evidence of that rumor, but if it's true, he certainly ain’t the first
person to flip off an audience.”
In retrospect, Dolenz says he
“wasn't totally surprised” that the Monkees/Hendrix tour didn’t work out. “It
was just night and day,” he admits of their clashing musical styles. “And we
all knew, because he was fairly unknown at the time, that those thousands and
thousands of kids were there to see the Monkees. Jimi knew that too.” As for
whether he thinks the negative reaction Hendrix received had anything to do
with racism, he insists, “No, it had to do with the fact that these fans had
spent so much of their money to see the headliners. And if fans like that are
really, really anxious and passionate, they'll make their feelings known.”
Despite Hendrix’s poor reception,
reservations about joining the tour in the first place, and that NME shade, he
and the Monkees did hit it off, getting up to all sorts of rock ‘n’ roll
adventures during their week on the road. “We spent a lot of time together. We
went to clubs and wandered around aimlessly, and sometimes non-aimlessly,” says
Dolenz fondly. “We got along great and had a great time. We partied; we hung
around in the hotel rooms jamming and just singing, having little aftershow
parties. I remember once we went to the Electric Circus in New York, a very
famous psychedelic place back then.
“He was a lovely man, though very
different from his persona onstage. He was very quiet — I don't want to say
naive, but just a real nice, real quiet guy. But then, of course, he would
launch into this incredible persona onstage, which was just phenomenal. We
partied, and he partied just as good as anybody else, but it wasn't like he
always had to be the life of the party and always have the attention. That's
probably the reason why we got along, because I’m the same way: I get
fulfillment onstage, and when I'm offstage, I want to be left alone.”
Though Dolenz and the rest of the
Monkees were saddened when Hendrix suddenly quit, he admits, “Frankly, I didn't
feel that bad. I'd like to think that the tour gave him some sort of a little
shot, some more people knowing his name. I'm sure that some of those Monkees
fans went on to be Hendrix fans.” So, in the end, the Monkees — who’d often
caught flak for being a “manufactured group” — were vindicated for championing
Hendrix so early on. (They were also early supporters of Frank Zappa, Tim
Buckley, and Harry Nilsson, who all appeared on or wrote music for The Monkees
sitcom.) But, Dolenz stresses, “We didn't run around tooting our horn to the
NBC press department, saying, ‘Oh look, the Monkees like Jimi Hendrix! Aren't
they cool?’ … And let me make it very clear, on the record: Jimi Hendrix would
have done very well without us.”







