Purple Haze
by John Nicole
Last May, I celebrated my birthday by parachuting from 14,000 feet. But this wasn’t the
most thrilling experience of my life which actually took place 40 years go.
I purchased my first Jimi Hendrix album in high school and instantly fell in love with his
music. In fact, as a result, I became a musician and today I play professionally. After
high school, I moved to New York City, met my wife and totally immersed myself in music.
Attending concerts at the Fillmore East became a ritual. Hendrix was a god! And then I
got two tickets to the midnight show of The Band of Gypsies! Wow! I was thrilled.
My wife and I had spent the holidays with my in-laws in the Washington, DC area before
leaving to attend the concert on the very last day of 1969. We had just crossed the bridge
into New Jersey from Delaware and our car broke down. Not good. After being towed to
a garage and hearing the cost was more than the car was worth, we abandoned
everything and decided to hitch-hike to NYC. It was about eight hours before show time.
We weren’t allowed to thumb a ride on the NJ Turnpike so we were forced to take
another route. We did get a ride almost immediately, but only for about 20 miles. Then
we decided to head toward the turnpike again to try hitching outside the toll booth. And it
was really cold and we didn’t really have anything warm to wear.
After about 30 minutes, a trucker stopped but we actually turned him down because he
looked really strange. So then we decided to make a cardboard sign – which I kept for
many years after – that read: JIMI HENDRIX – NYC. So, once again, we wait patiently
for someone to stop. I think we were close to the exit for Philadelphia or Trenton. I was
frustrated and really worried that we’d miss the greatest concert experience of my life.
My wife brought along some fruit that started getting pretty squished, but we ate it. We
prayed for someone to pick us up. We started fantasizing about what the concert would
be like and started to get even more depressed. Then it started getting dark. It got dark
early this time of year, so I used my cigarette lighter to light up my sign. Very stupid idea
because the fluid eventually disappeared.
Then it happened – like a miracle! A very large stretch limo pulled up in front of us and
the driver waved for us to come to his window. He asked if we were going to the concert
in NYC to see Jimi. We’re trying, I remembertelling him. We told him our story and he
said to get in. We did.
Getting into the limo felt a lot like jumping from a plane on my birthday. I was immediately
exhilarated and fearful (for some reason). Jimi Hendrix was riding in this limo and we had
just entered it. I was out of my mind. Then I thought maybe this is just some rich guy who
looks like Hendrix. No, it was Jimi!!! His eyes were closed, but there were two other guys
and one woman also riding with him and they welcomed us by offering us both drinks. One
of the dudes told Jimi to wake up because he had guests. He didn’t look like he wanted
to wake up, but he eventually did.
I remember a lot about this ride and there are some things I forget. What I remember
most distinctly is him telling me that I had a “foxy lady.” I didn’t laugh then, but today I
smile just thinking about it. In fact, I called my wife “Foxy” for many years after. Riding
with Jimi in his limo to NYC was one of greatest events of my life. I also met Salvador
Dali while tripping in NYC, but that was a close second. The ride was fantastic; it was
the ULTIMATE ROAD TRIP!
When we arrived in NYC, the limo dropped everyone off at the Sherry Netherland Hotel
and the driver brought my wife and I to our apartment. Before we got out, he handed us
a pass to go backstage during the concert. Unbelievable!
My wife and I wanted to go to Woodstock, but we just couldn’t make it. And then Jimi
died and we were heart-broken. We really felt a void. I still do. He was the greatest
guitar player and performer of our time. I’ve been to the Jimi Hendrix museum in Seattle
many times. He was great!
My “Foxy Lady” and I were divorced many years ago. Today, a poster of Jimi is on my
wall and I have every album he ever made. I remember being interviewed by the Village
Voice years ago about my encounter with Jimi, but I’m not sure if it was ever published.
I used to love telling the story to my friends, but after a while I think they heard enough.
Purple Haze is my brain and lately things don’t seem the same – since Jimi shook my
hand and then passed away to kiss the sky.
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