Skip Spence: The Next Big That Never Was

IT'S EARLY December, 1966, at San Francisco's Avalon Ballroom. The Summer of Love is a good seven months off, the Avalon scene still small and insular, the 800-seat old-style ballroom rarely packed unless a major act of the day like the Young Rascals or the Yardbirds is appearing. Eric Burdon must have been on some strong acid to proclaim that San Francisco nights are warm — like most of the rest, this one is chilly and damp. Outside the hall the prevailing pre-hippie regalia is more pea coats and army surplus than tie-dye and paisley. These are city kids out for a night of dancing to local beat groups.