HIGH RISK FOR ROCK HALL;
PSYCHEDELIC EXHIBITION A GUTSY MOVE IN ANTIDRUG ERA by BY MICHAEL NORMAN
Copyright (c) 1997, Plain Dealer Publishing Co.

In one month, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum
will unveil its first major new exhibition since its
September 1995 grand opening.

That fact alone is enough to cause anxiety and
apprehension down at North Coast Harbor. Now that the glow
of the grand opening has finally faded, the rock hall must
consistently develop exciting attractions to keep bringing
in a steady flow of visitors. But the pressure and the
tension have been heightened considerably because of the
size and the controversial, drugrelated subject matter of
the new exhibition.

The museum is replacing many of the original displays in
its main exhibition area with a mammoth installation called
"I Want to Take You Higher: The Psychedelic Era 1965 to
1969."

The exhibit, timed for the 30th anniversary of the 1967
Summer of Love in San Francisco, will examine one of the
most contentious periods in contemporary social history:
the drugfueled flowering of the 1960s counterculture and
its role in the evolution of rock music and
antiEstablishment literature, poetry, art and politics in
the United States and Great Britain.

It was proposed by Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner,
an influential member of the rock hall's board of
directors, who got his start in San Francisco in the 1960s.
Wenner pushed the idea despite the concerns of other board
members, including rock hall Chief Executive Officer
William N. Hulett, who wondered whether the obvious drug
themes would make it too controversial and risky.

There is no question that the psychedelic era represents
a key cultural shift and an important turning point in rock
history. From 1965 to 1969, rock 'n' roll literally grew
up, leaving behind the teenybopper love songs and dance
tunes of the 1950s and early '60s for adult music with
mature themes about politics, philosophy and spiritual
development:

The Beatles went from "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and
"Twist and Shout" to "Rubber Soul" and "Sgt. Pepper's
Lonely Hearts Club Band."

Bob Dylan plugged in at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival,
introducing the world to the poetry and power of
politically conscious rock.

In San Francisco and London, artists such as the
Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd, the Jefferson Airplane and Jimi
Hendrix rewrote the rules of rock 'n' roll, creating a more
complex, spiritual music that spoke to an entire
generation.

Drugs and rock

The cultural shift was even more dramatic. The babyboom
generation, born after World War II, used its demographic
muscle in the late 1960s to alter everything from
television and radio to sexual mores and politics. Rock was
the soundtrack to the revolution. But the fact that drugs
particularly marijuana and LSD permeated almost every
aspect of the counterculture puts the rock hall in a
difficult, potentially dangerous position.

In the 1990s, it is heresy to suggest that drugs are
anything but bad. A hysteria like that of the McCarthy era
informs public debate about the issue.

Our laws have been rewritten so that certain types of
drug trafficking (including the sale of LSD) carry a
stiffer mandatory prison sentence than murder. Across the
country, many municipalities spend more time, money and
energy on drug enforcement than they do on programs for the
poor.

Our president, an amateur pot puffer in his youth,
recently defied the will of voters in California and
Arizona and threatened federal criminal sanctions against
doctors who prescribe marijuana to cancer patients.

The message? Even terminal illness does not absolve a
citizen from his patriotic duty to be a sober soldier in
society's holy war on drugs.

This is not exactly a climate conducive to mounting an
exhibit whose very title implies a celebration and
glorification of psychedelic drugs. Some sort of backlash
is inevitable. And if the outcry is loud enough, the rock
hall may find itself in the middle of a political firestorm
that could affect attendance.

It may well be a positive impact. Controversy has a way
of attracting more people than it scares away. But those
34 to 51yearold baby boomers the rock hall's prime
audience are really grown up now, with very "square,"
middleclass ideas about drugs and lots of kids in D.A.R.E.
programs.

In fact, the man at the rock hall with the most at stake
may be Education Director Bob Santelli. It's his job to
persuade teachers and students that rock 'n' roll is a
topic worthy of serious academic study.

Potsmoking hippies and Ken Kesey's acidtripping Merry
Pranksters are an undeniable part of rock history. But
Santelli will have to be very careful in how he tackles the
drug issue in his psychedelic exhibit education programs.
In the age of D.A.R.E. and "Just Say No," he runs the very
real risk of alienating the educational establishment and
the imageconscious corporate sponsors who underwrite his
valuable programs.

The rock hall could have avoided much controversy by
simply calling the new exhibit "The 1960s," or some other
generic title with no overt references to drugs. But I, for
one, am happy they didn't. Taking a chance

A museum devoted to the living heritage of rock 'n' roll
should be provocative. Rock music may be big business in
the 1990s, grist for everything from Madison Avenue ad
campaigns to big, citysaving tourist attractions. But if
the rock hall begins to take a WalMart approach to its
programming, censoring and shaping its exhibits solely to
avoid controversy, it will wither and die.

Like it or not, drugs were responsible for many of the
positive cultural and artistic developments of the 1960s.
They took their toll, too, as the premature, drugrelated
deaths of Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison and Jerry
Garcia all grimly attest.

But that doesn't make the rock hall a morgue, as some
detractors have arrogantly charged. Is the Cleveland Public
Library a morgue because its shelves include the works of
drug users such as Edgar Allen Poe, Ernest Hemingway and
Tennesee Williams? Is Severence Hall a mortuary because it
has showcased the work of substance abusers such as
Berlioz, Franz Liszt and Leonard Bernstein?

Any worthwhile shrine to artistic achievement will
embrace the entirety of the human experience. The
selfrighteous will always be prattling on about the value
of conformity and the importance of moral absolutes. It's
up to cultural institutions such as the rock hall to point
out that real life isn't so onedimensional or simple.

Tackling an issue as complex and controversial as the
psychedelic experience may be risky. But it's just the sort
of thing the rock hall needs to do to maintain its
integrity.

Without that, no amount of hype will keep the people
coming through the doors of I.M. Pei's glass pyramid.