T H E DETRO IT J E W IS H N E WS

Michael Steinberg
has danced and
drummed at more
than 250 shows.

46

"Touch of Grey," along
with improvisational num-
bers like "Drums" and
"Space."
Grateful Dead concerts,
once synonymous with
marijuana and LSD, are
now host to groups of
sober fans, traveling
Alcoholics and Narcotics
Anonymous meetings,
called the Wharf Rats —
named after a Grateful
Dead song.
"My parents hate the
Dead. They associate it
with scum and derelicts,"
Mr. Steinberg said. "But
some, like myself, are drug
free.
"When I started up with

the Dead 14 years ago,
Quaaludes, speed and
cube acid were all the
rage. But now we've had a
whole generation that
grew up with drug educa-
tion — the third genera-
tion."
Through high school,
undergraduate education,
law school and various
jobs, Mr. Steinberg has
scheduled vacations in
two-week blocks, cram-
ming in as many concerts
as possible. Sometimes he
drives; sometimes he flies.
Most times he makes a lit-
tle money on the side, sell-
ing T-shirts and stickers.
Hordes arrive early to

the shows, setting up shop
— the bazaar, like a
medieval festival — in the
parking lots to sell vege-
tarian burritos, silver and
turquoise jewelry, pen-
and-ink drawings, live-
performance tapes and col-
orful, winding tapestries.
Hugs and smiles are given
out freely. Music from past
concerts blares throughout
the parking lot — compli-
ments of any Head lucky
enough to purchase taping
tickets, allowing him to
plug into the soundboard
at the show.
Many arenas no longer
allow vending, but it
----urs regardless.

