When my sister Dianne visited me years ago, she requested a trip to Hollywood to see the House of Blues. I was more than obliged to make the drive, even though I downloaded a bad internet map and we ended up lost.
I cursed whatever map search I used to get this map. We drove around the digs and dirt of Hollywood not seeing a sliver of glamour we imagined it.
We tried to find the 10 or the 110 or the 101 or any dang interstate for that matter, she pointed and screamed, “Barney’s Beanery! Barney’s Beanery! That’s the last place Janis Joplin was the night she died!”
She said that all Janis pretty much ate was apple pie since she craved sweet things from her heroin addiction. I thought, hey, let’s stop in. How often do you get an opportunity to see the last place Janis was while she was in this realm?
Dianne told the story to our hostess and she led us to a table where Janis carved her name. We ordered apple pie and stared at a “Janis ’70” etching that afternoon, imagining her in beads and boas before she joined Hendrix and Morrison on that great rock venue in the sky.
- From Janis Joplin to Whitney Houston in Five Simple Steps (socyberty.com)
- West Hollywood Unveils Neon Signage in Honor of Route 66 (laist.com)
- Piece of My Heart: the Story of Janis Joplin (texasmusicmatters.kut.org)
- Janis Joplin Primed for a Renaissance on the 40th Anniversary of Her Death (spinner.com)
- Janis Joplin: Portrait of an ‘Enviously Unrestrained’ Art Student — Picture Book (spinner.com)