The tear gas attack that led Elvira to a romantic frisson with Jimi Hendrix
The countercultural era was vastly different from today—a time infused with the scent of marijuana, the ethos of free love, and an unwavering desire to change the world. It was a fleeting period brimming with remarkable events and unexpected encounters, including one between Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, and Jimi Hendrix. Their paths crossed during the 1969 Denver Pop Festival when a police tear gas attack threw the crowd into chaos, leading the two icons to share a brief but unforgettable dalliance amidst the tumult.
As you might expect, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, is not her real name. It is Cassandra Peterson, and back in the 1960s, her career as a famous horror movie hostess was years off. Attending the festival in Denver, Colorado, she and her friend Cindy wanted to try and hang out with some of the day’s most prominent artists, including Hendrix, Frank Zappa and Creedence Clearwater Revival. She recounted what happened in her memoir, Yours Cruelly, Elvira.
The pair didn’t bother booking a motel, figuring they’d be up all night with the bands. After being kicked out of the drummer of Three Dog Night’s room for refusing to “put out”, she eventually tracked down Zappa. However, as the only sober one in the room, the Mothers of Invention leader told her she was too young to wander the hotel alone.
The following day, Peterson and Cindy got to the front of the arena, as they wanted a prime spot for Hendrix’s show. However, due to the violence the previous evening, there was a strong police presence, which caused tension. It eventually reached boiling point, and the crowd ended up rushing the stage, leading to the police indiscriminately throwing tear gas canisters into the crowd.
She felt a sharp pain on the side of her head, and everything went black. Peterson woke up in the medic tent at the back of the stadium and had been hit with a canister, with a small cut on her scalp and some chemical burns on the side of her face. She was told she would be fine by a medic and replied: “Easy for you to say, Mister. I might be missing Jimi Hendrix!”
Things soon picked up, though. After she left the tent, she passed a small motor home with a large afroed man guarding the door. He asked her if she wanted to meet Jimi Hendrix. While she admit it was “gullible” to accept such an outlandish offer, she followed him in, and there he was. The ‘Purple Haze’ star was half lying on a convertible bed at the back of the trailer.
He asked her what was happening out front, so she provided her account. After seeing her injuries, the kindly rocker took a damp towel and cleaned them up before kicking back with a spliff.
“We lounged on the bed and smoked it while he launched into an angry diatribe about the pigs, America, Vietnam, and ‘the system,’” she writes. “I listened and nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Even though he was as pissed off as could be, I was struck by the fact that his voice still remained soft, deep, and even. No shouting or yelling… he was telling me he’d had it with the US and was going to leave the country for good.” At that moment he was told it was time to hit the stage. “Jimi scribbled a phone number on a scrap of paper and stuffed it into my hand. ‘Call me after the show,’ he said. As he made his way to the door, he stopped, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me so sweet and slow that I thought I’d pass out.”
The evening wasn’t just memorable because of that romantic frisson but also because it turned out to be the final show of The Jimi Hendrix Experience, who split up that evening. There was something else that also etched it into her mind. Peterson’s hopes and dreams of taking the brief romance further were also dashed. When she called the number, a woman with a slurred voice answered. She asked for Jimi, and he came to the phone after a while, but he was out of it.
She said, “Jimi, Jimi! Hi! It’s me, Cassandra! Remember? The girl you met backstage?” After what felt like an eternity, she heard the handset hit the floor. She stayed on the line for a minute, listening to the party, tears welling.
Peterson concluded: “As if I wasn’t already bummed enough, Cindy was so angry that I hadn’t asked him where he was staying that she refused to speak to me. All this made for a long, silent drive back to Colorado Springs.”
