It’s Jerry out of the box. I bought this toy today on the local eBay (Marktplaats). Unfortunately the batteries were empty so I had to replace them.
watch video on YouTube
Grateful Dead / Jerry Garcia Action Figure: Jerry Rocks !!! 2001 with Sound Chip (Guitar Riff from his Fender Stratocaster Guitar). McFarlane Toys Six Inch Action Figure
Cool collector’s object. Great detail. Jerry Rocks Edition
McFarlane makes the most realistic looking action figures of real people. Great detail provides a nice memento for Deadheads, the stage almost looks like a shrine. The hair is light gray. A must for Garcia fans.
It is estimated that about 20,000 people were attending the Jerry Garcia Memorial at the Golden Gate Park Polo Field, San Francisco CA, Sunday August 13, 1995. Except for the parade and drumming there was no live music. The song in this video is Playing In The Band (Edmundson Pavillion Seattle, WA 5/21/74). The images are an excerpt of a video given to to me by an english Dead Head “Dangerous Dave”, a few weeks after the ceremony. Unfortunately the source is unknown and the VHS-tape has lost a lot of its quality over the years…
elegy for Jerry (Robert Hunter)
CEREMONY speakers in order:
Babatunde Olatunji
Deborah Koons Garcia “…He died in his sleep with a smile on his face. He was working hard to purify himself, and we thought it was going to be for a good long life but it was for another journey. And he loved his life. He loved all of you. And what I learned from Jerry was to open my heart and live fully in the moment… …What a great guy Jerry Garcia was, He would have loved this. He is loving it.”
Annabelle Garcia “We love each and every one of you because you put us through college. And we didn’t have to work at Dairy Queen… …I know that he’s watching us all. `Even though he’s gone, every single one of us has to keep it going.”
Wavy Gravy He read Hunter’s “An Elegy for Jerry” and his own haiku. “We are experiencing ‘Good Grief’ Today!”
Bob Weir “…Take your heart, take you face, and reflect back some of the joy that he gave you … he filled this world full of clouds of joy. Just take a little bit of that and reflect it back up to him, or wherever he is, just shine it back to him…”
Steve Parish
Mickey Hart “…you were the fuel that drove the bus… … If the Grateful Dead did anything, we gave you the power. You have the groove, you have the feeling. . . . You take it home and do something with it. We didn’t do this for nothing.”
Phil Lesh “Jerry was a friend of mine. He was my brother. He was a wounded warrior. And now he’s done with becoming. Now he is being. Jerry, God bless you. Go with God. I love you. [to audience] And he loved you too. And we love you. Keep it coming…”
Bill Kreutzman
Paul Kantner He read the poem that he read at the Bill Graham Memorial entitled for the “Good of All”.
Vince Welnick “…when (I) first saw Jerry I thought I had just seen Santa Claus… I still believe in Santa Claus.”
John Perry Barlow Had one word to share with us – “love”.
An Elegy for Jerry By Robert Hunter
Jerry, my friend, you’ve done it again, even in your silence the familiar pressure comes to bear, demanding I pull words from the air with only this morning and part of the afternoon to compose an ode worthy of one so particular about every turn of phrase, demanding it hit home in a thousand ways before making it his own, and this I can’t do alone. Now that the singer is gone, where shall I go for the song?
Without your melody and taste to lend an attitude of grace a lyric is an orphan thing, a hive with neither honey’s taste nor power to truly sting.
What choice have I but to dare and call your muse who thought to rest out of the thin blue air, that out of the field of shared time, a line or two might chance to shine —
As ever when we called, in hope if not in words, the muse descends.
How should she desert us now? Scars of battle n her brow, bedraggled feathers on her wings and yet she sings, she sings!
May she bear thee to thy rest, the ancient bower of flowers beyond the solitude of days, the tyranny of hours — the wreath of shining laurel lie upon your shaggy head, bestowing power to play the lyre to legions of the dead.
If some part of that music is heard in deepest dream, or on some breeze of Summer a snatch of golden theme, we’ll know you live inside us with love that never parts our good old Jack O’ Diamonds become the King of Hearts.
I feel your silent laughter at sentiments so bold that dare to step across the line to tell what must be told, so I’ll just say I love you which I never said before and let it go at that old friend, the rest you may ignore.
One Year Later, in August 1996, Robert Hunter published this email to Jerry: (excerpts)
Your funeral service was one hell of a scene. Maureen and I took Barbara and Sara in and sat with them. MG waited over at our place. Manasha and Keelan were also absent. None by choice. Everybody from the band said some words and Steve, especially, did you proud, speaking with great love and candor. Annabelle got up and said you were a genius, a great guy, a wonderful friend, and a shitty father – which shocked part of the contingent and amused the rest. After awhile the minister said that that was enough talking, but I called out, from the back of the church, “Wait, I’ve got something!” and charged up the aisle and read this piece I wrote for you, my voice and hands shaking like a leaf. Man, it was weird looking over and seeing you dead!
Been remembering some of the key talks we had in the old days, trying to suss what kind of a tiger we were riding, where it was going, and how to direct it, if possible. Driving to the city once, you admitted you didn’t have a clue what to do beyond composing and playing the best you could. I agreed – put the weight on the music, stay out of politics, and everything else should follow. I trusted your musical sense and you were good enough to trust my words. Trust was the whole enchilada, looking back.
Walking down Madrone Canyon in Larkspur in 1969, you said some pretty mindblowing stuff, how we were creating a universe and I was responsible for the verbal half of it. I said maybe, but it was your way with music and a guitar that was pulling it off.
Just thought it should be said that I no longer hold your years of self inflicted decline against you. I did for awhile, felt ripped off, but have come to understand that you were troubled and compromised by your position in the public eye far beyond anyone’s powers to deal with. Star shit. Who can you really trust? Is it you or your image they love? No one can understand those dilemmas in depth except those who have no choice but to live them. You whistled up the whirlwind and it blew you away. Your substance of choice made you more malleable to forces you would have brushed off with a characteristic sneer in earlier days. Well, you know it to be so. Let those who pick your bones note that it was not always so.
So here I am, writing a letter to a dead man, because it’s hard to find a context to say things like this other than to imagine I have your ear, which of course I don’t. Only to say that what you were is more startlingly apparent in your absence than ever it was in the last decade. I remember sitting in the waiting room of the hospital through the days of your first coma. Not being related, I wasn’t allowed into the intensive care unit to see you until you came to and requested to see me. And there you were – more open and vulnerable than I’d ever seen you. You grasped my hand and began telling me your visions, the crazy densely packed phantasmagoria way beyond any acid trip, the demons and mechanical monsters that taunted and derided, telling you endless bad jokes and making horrible puns of everything – and then you asked, point blank, “Have I gone insane?” I said “No, you’ve been very sick. You’ve been in a coma for days, right at death’s door. They’re only hallucinations, they’ll go away. You survived.” “Thanks,” you said. “I needed to hear that.”
Your biographers aren’t pleased that I don’t talk to them, but how am I to say stuff like this to an interviewer with an agenda? I sometimes report things that occur to me about you in my journal, as the moment releases it, in my own way, in my own time, and they can take what they want of that.
Jerry Garcia (Grateful Dead) had about 25 guitars, but 70% of his time in the spotlight he played just 3, all custom built by the same luthier Doug Irwin (Sonoma, CA). Doug worked at Alembic guitars for a year and half or two. The guitarmaker spent more than six years working on it, result: Garcia’s favorite guitar for the next ll years & most played. He played the heavy 14-pound guitar for 11 years. Irwin mixed exquisitely detailed, intricate brass work with dense, exotic hardwoods in his designs. He also incorporated a lot of special features Garcia himself devised, like a loop that ran the signal back through the guitar so he could control his special effects with knobs on the body of the guitar or a built-in pre-amp hidden beneath Irwin’s inlays. “Jerry knew more about his guitars and equipment than anyone,” said Parish. After a Roland synthesizer was successfully attached to Wolf, Tiger went back to the shop for retrofitting. Garcia used the synthesizer attachment to make his guitar sound like a trumpet or other instruments.
In 1990 Garcia changed guitars when Irwin completed “Rosebud” named for the inlaid dancing skeleton on the ebony coverplate. Lighter than the Tiger, it became his fulltime Dead guitar, but he used the Tiger in the JGB for a another year. Tiger and Wolf were named for the exquisite mother-of-pearl and ivory inlaid animal images Doug Irwin created on the guitar bodies. After Jerry’s death, the guitars returned to Doug Irwin, the master guitar maker who’s work Jerry Garcia so admired. In his will, Garcia left the guitars to Mr. Irwin who had devoted many years of his life creating them. Irwin sold his guitars, the Tiger and the Wolf, at auction on May 8, 2002. The Tiger was purchased by Jim Irsay for USD 850,000.
There’s a bootleg where Ryan Adams explains that he went to the Hall of Fame and saw Garcia’s guitars hence the lyric: “Rosebud shipwrecked up on the Ohio, behind a Wall of Glass, telling me to take care of myself, and my friends”.
Please mail us if you have questions. We will check the item and inform you about availability/price/shipping costs. Thanks for your interest ! Dismiss
Irwin mixed exquisitely detailed, intricate brass work with dense, exotic hardwoods in his designs. He also incorporated a lot of special features Garcia himself devised, like a loop that ran the signal back through the guitar so he could control his special effects with knobs on the body of the guitar or a built-in pre-amp hidden beneath Irwin’s inlays. “Jerry knew more about his guitars and equipment than anyone,” said Parish. After a Roland synthesizer was successfully attached to Wolf, Tiger went back to the shop for retrofitting. Garcia used the synthesizer attachment to make his guitar sound like a trumpet or other instruments.
on the guitar bodies. After Jerry’s death, the guitars returned to Doug Irwin, the master guitar maker who’s work Jerry Garcia so admired. In his will, Garcia left the guitars to Mr. Irwin who had devoted many years of his life creating them. Irwin sold his guitars, the Tiger and the Wolf, at auction on May 8, 2002. The Tiger was purchased by Jim Irsay for USD 850,000.