July 4, 1977
Laguna Beach, California
It was dark by the time we made it to the coast, a darkness like that before a planetarium show begins. A guy waved a flashlight guiding the faithful Gran Torino into a cliffside opening next to a decoratively adorned bus, likely having Woodstock on its odometer. Harvey crawled from his comfortable spot in the backseat, cradling a small bucket of strawberries he had picked earlier that morning from a field along some empty highway west of Barstow. I was transfixed outside the car door as he gently nudged me out of the way while eating his sweet ripened fruit. We stood there looking up in amazement as the sky above exploded in a kaleidoscope of magic. The colorful embers of light cascading into the white-capped Pacific surf, as a holiday crowd surrounded us and partied on the beach below. The sounds of the Eagles blasting from the car stereo amplified the intoxicating atmosphere in a welcoming style.
The next chapter of our great summer adventure had begun.
Sometime later, I turned from my reclined perch on the car hood to see him sharing his berries with a couple of beautiful new friends. I leaned back against the windshield taking another toke from a friend, how strangely eerie, just the night before wishing to beat the 115-degree daytime heat we had rolled out of Vegas…
On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitis, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night.
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself
‘This could be heaven or this could be Hell’
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face.
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (any time of year) you can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain,
‘Please bring me my wine’
He said, ‘we haven’t had that spirit here
since nineteen sixty-nine
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say”
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face.
They livin’ it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise),
bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said, ‘we are all just prisoners here,
Of our own device’
And in the master’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can’t kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
‘Relax’ said the night man,
‘We are programmed to receive.
You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave!’
Songwriters: Don Felder / Don Henley / Glen Frey
Hotel California lyrics copyright Universal Music Publishing Group
The Eagles ~ Hotel California
In Memory
Harvey Smith Vaughan
27 November 1961 - 14 July 1994
