Rafael, Joel. Interview August 20th, 2025.

00:00:00JENNIFER FABBI: Hello, this is Jen Fabbi, and today I'm interviewing Joel Rafael for the California State University San Marcos University Library Oral History program. Today is August 20th, 2025. This interview is taking place at Joel Raphael's studio at his home in Escondido, California, which is on the unceded territory of Luiseño/Payómkawichum people. Joel, thank you for interviewing with me today.

00:00:27JOEL RAFAEL: You're welcome.

00:00:29FABBI: Alright, so let's start off with the early years. When and where were you born?

00:00:33RAFAEL: I was born in Chicago, Illinois, in 1949, May 11th.

00:00:39FABBI: Okay. So you've been writing and performing for over fifty years beginning in the sixth grade. So how did it come to be that you were performing at such a young age, and how did you learn to play music and--

00:00:56RAFAEL: Well, I grew up in California 'cause my parents moved us out here to the Los Angeles County area in, when I was about three years old. So I guess probably 1952. And the California school districts had a really great music programs in those days. And so I was fortunate for the whole time that I was in school up through high school there was an excellent music program in every school that I was in. So it was probably about the fourth grade a music director came around to our classroom and basically, you know, Who wants to be in the band? And handed out, I guess some kind of a permission slip. And I jumped on that right away. I already was a music lover just from playing phonograph records at home. I think I mentioned this to you before, but I was a latchkey kid before the term was invented. So, in my early elementary school days when I would get home from school, I literally had a key on a shoe string to open my door because my parents were both at work. And I would fill my time with--a lot of my time with--going through my parents' records and just exploring the music they had. So that's how my love for music first started. And then, and of course, I had a little phonograph myself with a lot of children's records and children's music and that kind of thing. But I started playing music in the fourth grade, beginning band. I started out as a drummer. I had already taken some accordion lessons because my brother, who's two years older than me was taking accordion lessons. And that was kind of the mode, you know, everything my brother did then my parents would have me do that later. And so he was playing accordion so then I was playing accordion. But I started out on this small little twelve bass accordion and progressed pretty quickly. But unfortunately, I was pretty small in stature. And so when it was time for me to move on to the bigger accordion, it was really just, it was too much to handle. So that was the end of my accordion lessons. And then it was shortly after that, that this band thing happened at school, and I decided I would play the drums, which in beginning band meant the snare drum. So that was kind of how I started out, just playing the beats on the snare drum. And at a certain point, I really wanted a drum kit. And at some point, I guess it was probably around the fifth or sixth grade--probably around the fifth grade--I was able to coerce my dad into going to a music store. I think it was in Pomona, California. And we bought a used, really put together drum set and moved that into my bedroom. And then I started to bring some of my school friends over on the weekends. My mom would take me over, we would pick up a couple of friends and bring 'em to my house. And one of 'em played the trumpet and one of 'em played the clarinet, also beginning band members. And we worked out some very simple tunes. That was kind of my first combo. And by the time I got into junior high school, a better drum kit was required. And somehow I managed to get my dad to buy that for me. And I guess my second band was a surf band in a friend's garage in the town I lived in. I would ride my bike over there. My drums were parked in the garage at his house. Robbie Brandon was his name. And he had a friend named Lynn Lewis. And they--one of them played--Robbie played guitar, electric guitar, and Lynn played bass. So it was a three-piece band. And we basically played surf band covers--a few Everly Brothers songs that required singing, and neither of them sang. So we bought a boom microphone, and I was a singing drummer. As a drummer going into high school, I started playing a, well, I guess you'd call it a cover band. We were playing the, basically the songs that were on the radio at that time. And that was about the time that The Beatles became prevalent in the years of the U.S. And we were playing some Beatles songs and Rolling Stones songs and stuff like that. School dances, sock hops. Back in those days, they didn't have DJs. We always had live bands. And so I was one of those lucky kids that was in one of those bands. And that was a great experience as a kid. It was--really felt unique to be in a musical group. So let's see, should I continue on the musical path? Am I jumping the gun here?

00:06:26FABBI: Well, no, I think we're gonna' get into it more.

00:06:31RAFAEL: Okay. I was just kind of tracing my musical--

00:06:33FABBI: Yeah, absolutely.

00:06:35RAFAEL: --progress. From there, folk music became, started to become popular probably around 1959, 1960. And, they call it the Folk Scare of the Sixties. And I think that's because no one ever thought that folk music would be played on the radio, and some of the stuff that was played on the radio was the more commercial kind of folk stuff, like the Kingston Trio. And John Denver, I guess, was probably around that time. Chad Mitchell Trio. I think John Denver was in the Chad Mitchell Trio before he was a solo artist. So those were the songs I was listening to. I remember Joan Baez had a hit with a Phil Ochs song called, There but for Fortune, that really intrigued me. And I just felt the necessity to, at that point, to kind of step away from the drum kit and learn how to play the guitar so that I could be up front singing the songs. And so I talked my parents into going to, down to Tijuana during the summer, probably the summer of '61, maybe. And we bought a very inexpensive guitar in Tijuana. I think it was about 30, 35 dollars. And that's what I learned to play the guitar on. I had a couple of friends that were--they had, there were about four of 'em, school friends, that had put together a little group, and they were doing mostly Kingston Trio songs. And I went up to play with them when they had their rehearsals, a couple of times. Just enough to learn a few chords and a couple songs. And then I was on my own. I was a solo artist from then on. I'm not sure why, but I just decided I was gonna' do my own thing. And so I started learning songs and getting better on the guitar. Around 1960--probably the summer of 1963--might have been--it was either '63 or '64. Might have been '64. Anyways, one of those two years. My dad decided to take my family on a family vacation for the summer to Hawaii. Hawaii had just become a state like a few years earlier. And he was curious about it, and we were curious about it. So we took a trip there, and we went to a few different islands, I think three different islands. And the third island we went to was, was the island of Kauai, which was very undeveloped at the time. And so we landed in Kauai, and we stayed at a place called the Hanalei Plantation, which is still there. It's a resort hotel that was originally a sugar plantation. And at the time, I think it was the only like sort of resort or hotel to stay at on the island of Kauai. It was just, there just wasn't much there. So we checked into our rooms, and right after we got into our rooms, my parents got a phone call from a guy who had just checked in and had noticed that my parents were from the same town, Covina, California. And he invited my parents and me and my brother to come down to the little restaurant bar area at the hotel and have a drink. So we went down there to meet this guy. And this is kind of an anecdotal story, but I think it's an important one. So when we met him, he was very much like a John Wayne kind of character, big cowboy kind of dude. He'd already had a few drinks, so he was obviously a drinker. He started telling us his story. And he had told us that he was one of the original models for the Marlboro Man posters with the cowboy and the horse that you'd see along the highways at that time. And he was a stunt man, had been in the Marine Corps. He told us that he had--that they had filmed Mister Roberts there at Kauai. And they had done a lot of filming at Hanalei. And that was one of the reasons he came back there 'cause he was familiar with it. But when they did that movie, he was the guy that drove the motorcycle off the pier in the scene where the sailors get liberty and they get off the ship. And then they're celebrating, this one guy drives a motorcycle off the pier into the ocean. And it was this guy, Jack Lewis. And he told us that he was there, that he was partners with a guy in Covina that owned a magazine called Gun World, which, you know, back in the early sixties, it was a just a, an NRA type magazine, but not the NRA as the NRA is today. It was more about hunting and gun safety and the newest rifles and firearms that were on the market or whatever. And so he said, yeah, he was there to take a helicopter flight the next day into some uncharted areas of Kauai to take some photographs of this rifle that he had. And it was like a .38 caliber rifle with a telescopic sight on--like big hunting gun. And he looked at my brother and said, Do you wanna' go with me, kid? And my brother said, No. And so he looked at me and said, Do you wanna' go with me, kid? And I said, Yeah. And my dad said, no, no, no, no, he can't go. He's too young. You know, I think I was fifteen and--just had turned fifteen. And this guy goes, oh, please sir, let your son go. This will be the adventure of a lifetime. I'm not gonna' be flying the helicopter. I've chartered a pilot and a photographer, and there's four seats, so there's an extra seat in the helicopter, and you should really let your son go. This will be like a once in a lifetime experience. And my dad relented and said, okay. So next morning we go down, and there was a place where a helicopter could land at Hanalei. We walked down there and met him, and then the helicopter came in and landed, and we got in the helicopter, and we flew out over these just amazingly scenic places on the island of Kauai. And landed about three different times where this guy Jack got out and walked a hundred yards away from the helicopter and fired a couple shots and walked back towards the helicopter with the gun. And we did that about three or four times. And I think due to his alcoholic nature, he was pretty exhausted by the time we got back in the helicopter to fly back to the resort. And on the way back, he said you know, he complimented me. He said, boy, we really worked our, you know, off today. Um, you know, kid, thank you. You really helped me out. You know, he's just giving me all this hot air. And so on the way back, he says to me, How do you like this gun kid? And I, you know, I'm fifteen years old, you know, 19-early sixties, and I said, oh, you know, I love the gun. It's awesome. I don't even know what I said, but that was my, what I implied to him is that I really thought it was great. So he says, It's yours. So, you know, I'm fifteen, right? So we get off the plane and I'm carrying this rifle in a leather case, walking toward my dad, who really did not like guns at all. He was a World War II Veteran. He had been in the invasion of North Africa, and he'd seen plenty of violence that he never talked about it, but it was obvious from the way he felt about guns, even at that time in my life. And so he goes, what are you doing with that? And I go, Jack gave it to me, You know, I'm all excited. And he goes, no, no, no, no, no, you don't. Well, this guy, Jack, you know, right away started again on my dad. Oh, sir, you gotta' let him keep it. He told me that you, you have a guy that works for you that goes hunting sometimes, you know, let him keep, let him keep the rifle. He was so great today. He helped me out so much. Just all this BS. And my dad relented. This was like '64. And so after we finished our trip, we flew back to Maui, I think it was, and then back to Oahu with the gun. Checked the gun and the ammunition, flew home with it, you know, it was a different time. Security was not what it is today. Flew home with a gun. The gun went in the closet, the ammo got locked away somewhere. And a month or so later, school started. And I was talking to a friend at school who lived with his dad, single parent, and they went hunting quite a bit. I told him about this gun. He really wanted to see it. And so I brought him home one day after school, and we got it out of the closet, and he looked at it. A couple days later, he called my house and said that he would really like to buy the gun from me. And he offered me $125 for the gun. So I had my eye on this guitar, down with a Covina music store. It was a G-10 Goya Swedish-made classical guitar that was real nice little guitar. And so he paid me the $125. And I went down to that store, and I bought that guitar. And I've never owned a gun since then. So I like to say my gun--my guitar is my gun, and my songs are my bullets.

00:16:42FABBI: Mm. That's profound. So--

00:16:48RAFAEL: --that was my start playing guitar.

00:16:53FABBI: Yeah. So can you tell me about the people or music--and you mentioned this a little bit--that influenced you at this young age, and as you moved into performing?

00:17:07RAFAEL: Pretty much anything that I ran across that was like considered folk music at that time. The schools, it was all of a sudden folk music was sort of happening. It was the sixties folk movement. And the high schools were having what they called hootenannies, sort of like what you called open stages today. But they called it hootenannies, which was a term that was coined by Pete Seeger, when people would get together and share songs. And so we'd have these hootenannies, and they would be like talent contests at the various high schools. There were three high schools in our area. And so I started entering those contests after I'd learned a few songs. And wasn't really writing much at that time. I was just mostly just playing songs. So I was playing songs that were by Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio. There was a guy named Tim Morgan that was a local artist that had influenced me and another guy that I saw in Glendale. There was a lot of small clubs around at that time. Like, there was a club in Balboa Peninsula in Newport Beach area called The Prison of Socrates. And it's still there, but it's like a pizza parlor now. But it was a coffee house that had folk music, like three, four nights a week there. And there was another one in Seal Beach called the Cosmos. And, of course, there was the Troubadour in Los Angeles and the Ice House in Pasadena. There was a second Ice House in Glendale. So they all had open stages. So after I kind of perfected my beginning act with a guitar, I was hitting those open stages and the hootenanny contest at the high school, and I did really well. I was, I would win the first or second place at the hootenannies. And I was able to get on those open stages. And that's kind of where I cut my teeth as a performer, as a young person. So my influences were basically just the songs I was playing, like Richie Havens was an influence. I had a record of his that had a couple of folks songs on it. One was called, Hey, Nelly. Nelly, that I liked to sing. I think that was written by Shel Silverstein. I started to pay attention to writers a little bit. I knew that the song that Joan was doing, Joan Baez was doing, There but for Fortune, was a Phil Ochs song. I heard about Bob Dylan, but I didn't know too much about him. My next door neighbor, who was a couple years older than me, had a Bob Dylan album that she had bought, and she didn't really care for it that much, so she gave it to me 'cause I was curious, And it was, I think it was Bob Dylan's probably his third album. You know, it took me like three albums to actually hear Bob Dylan. It was Another Side of Bob Dylan was the album. And at the first listening, it just like, really took me back. Whoa, that's just so different. You know? It was just I won't say it was repelling or bad, like some people have said. It was just different, you know, it was just so different the way he was using his voice and the barrage of words in the songs. So I picked a couple of songs off of that record that I learned how to play. So he was an influence. Woody Guthrie was an influence, but I didn't really realize it because Woody died the year I graduated from high school, and he was hospitalized for, I think for maybe close to fourteen years before he died. He was institutionalized with Huntington's Disease. And so his songs were around, you know, This Land Is Your Land and This Train (is Bound for Glory), and John Henry, and a few others that were kind of in the popular repertoire that these other groups were doing. So I was hearing groups do some Woody Guthrie songs. So they were, in that sense, some of the first songs I learned how to play, ironically. So that was kind of my high school experience, you know? And so I guess we could pick it up from there. I'm not--

00:21:23FABBI: Yeah. When did you start writing music?

00:21:26RAFAEL: I actually wrote probably my first couple of songs--

00:21:29FABBI: Well, and I guess, how did you learn, that's--

00:21:32RAFAEL: Yeah. Well, I don't know. I just, it was just something that I felt I could do. I was listening to songs and deciding which songs I liked. You know, there were songs that stood out and caught me up that I wanted to learn. Some of 'em were too complex for me to learn. I wasn't, skilled enough to just to discern that they were a simple song. But they, by virtue of being in a different key, it was like I could only play in a couple of keys. I had a capo, but I didn't really understand key transitions. I didn't understand that if you put a capo on the second fret of your guitar and play a G, it's actually an A, you know? So you got the whole circle of keys working up the neck of the guitar. And I understood that if I needed the song to be higher, I would move the cable up. If I needed it to be lower, I would move it down or take it off the guitar. But I didn't really know what key I was playing in or understand the relationships between the chord, the chords that were in a certain key. That all kind of came later just from experience, I think. And you meet people along the way. Like I've always--David Amron is the one that said this best. And I've always tried to emulate what he said. He said, I always hang around--try to hang around with people that are smarter than me and more skilled than me because that's how you learn to get better. You know, you don't want to be hanging around with people that--you don't wanna always be the best person there because then you don't ever learn anything. So I try to surround myself with people that know more than I know and are better players than I am, better songwriters than I am, because that's how you improve and develop. And I think that's good advice for anything that, any endeavor. So, let's see, where was I? So in high school, that was a very turbulent time for me. I don't know if that's our next category or not, but as I moved into high school, there was a lot going on. My freshman year in high school, John Kennedy was assassinated, A few years later, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were assassinated, and Malcolm X was assassinated. So this all happened in my youth. And, but these things, these killings of political figures, it was something that was, in my consciousness, was a historical thing. Like Lincoln had been assassinated, and that seemed like to me, as a teenager, seemed like a really long time ago. So, I guess I should mention. So, when I went into high school, I experienced every new school in my area. Okay. So, like in elementary school, I started off in a school called Barranca School. I went there for a year. And then they transferred me over to a new school in West Covina called the Vine School. After two years or three years at the Vine School, they split the districts into West Covina and Covina districts. And I was in the Covina District. So then I went to the new elementary school in the sixth grade, which was a brand new school. So like, no trees, no landscaping, just concrete and pavement and dirt. And so then when I went to junior high school, I went to the established junior high school for one year, my seventh grade year. But in eighth grade, they had built a new junior high school, and they fed that with the two established junior high schools from--depending on where you lived, were fed into that third junior high school. So that was my third new school--no trees, no landscaping, dirt, concrete and pavement. And that was the Sierra Vista Junior High School. And then I went back over to Covina High School, which was the established high school for my freshman year, but they had incorporated--that year they took away one of the junior highs, which was the first junior I'd gone to in seventh grade. That became the campus for most of the freshman classes. But there were some classes, depending on what your curriculum was that you would cross the street over to the high school, to Covina High School. So I was on my way, probably about ten in the morning--I don't, maybe it was eleven in the morning on my way from the junior high school campus--the freshman campus--to the high school campus to go to my French class, first year French. And somebody ran by me and said, President Kennedy's been shot. And I was just like, What? You know, I just made my way to my class and my teacher was crying, and everybody, we found out about it, and it was just like, it was so devastating. It's hard to explain how devastating that was. Because these kind of events we take for granted now. They happen so frequently. We hear about people being killed, or mass shootings, or we hear about even political leaders being killed, heads of corporations being targeted. And it's just like the news of the day. But like when I was, I guess I was thirteen, to have somebody run by and say, the President's been shot. That was shocking, you know? And, and I remember they ended school day that day--within about an hour they ended the school day. And by the time I got home, he was pronounced dead. And I just remember that the silence. There was this silence everywhere. We went up to get something to eat at a restaurant, and there were some other people there, but it was just completely silent and somber. So that was a very emotional experience, and I think it, in some ways, it set a tone for the rest of my experience as a kid. A lot of questions. So then, after my freshman year in high school, there was a new high school near my house. So I went to the new high school as a sophomore. And that was the year that--the summer before my sophomore year was the year that I received that rifle and swapped it for the guitar. So, as a sophomore in high school, I was starting to play the guitar quite a bit and be known kind of as a folk singer. Let's see. (Tear in my eye, sorry.) So, let's see. Moving on through high school. I was politically oriented by the time I got into high school when we had moved to the town of Covina. I guess I should back up. When we first moved to California, we lived with one of my aunts and uncles, my dad's sister, for a few months before we got our own place in La Canada, which is near Pasadena.

00:29:30FABBI: Beautiful.

00:29:31RAFAEL: Yeah. And it was pretty rural at that time outside of Pasadena. My dad had a business in Pasadena--a screen door company. We lived there for about three years. And then we moved to Covina. I didn't know until just a couple years ago--we actually lived in West Covina--even though we were right on the edge of Covina, my dad's business was in Covina, I was in the Covina School District. Even though we were in West Covina, technically. And the reason we were in West Covina--I found out later--was because there was a red line in Covina, and if you were Jewish, you couldn't buy a home in Covina. And some--my dad, we were Jewish and not religious, but just happened to be Jewish. And Covina was an area where there just, there wasn't really any any sign of other Jews around. It was pretty much, you were really in the minority. I mean, you were already in the minority, but I mean, when you moved, when we moved to Covina, there weren't any synagogues or temples, not really a path to continue being religious in any way. We weren't really that religious anyways, I don't think. My dad's family was, I guess what you'd call reformed Jews, pretty liberal Jews. And so there was that sense of isolation a little bit. And I know that my dad he wanted to join the golf club and was turned down. Many years later when my dad had established himself as a community leader, they invited him to join, and he didn't. He turned them down. So, let's see. I had a political orientation because my dad ran for school board. There was a couple of propositions on the ballot when I was--you know, I wasn't voting or anything, but I was just in my parents' household. And I was exposed to the politics that they were experiencing. And at the time that that red line was not just for Jews, but it was also for Black people. And I think probably for Latinos. And there was a law that came up for repeal. It was called the Rumford Act (Rumford Fair Housing Act). And it was the repeal of the Rumford Act--I guess it allowed people to discriminate when selling their house. So if somebody came to buy your house and they were of a minority that you didn't approve of, then you could legally just say that it wasn't for sale anymore or whatever. So there was a repeal of that law that came up, and my dad got really got behind it--a repeal of the Rumford Act. So you couldn't, you could not discriminate anymore. And that passed. And as a kid, we drove around town in a van putting up stickers on telephone poles and anywhere we could put stickers for the No on whatever the proposition was. Fourteen. I can't remember. (It was Proposition 14.) So that was kind of my early political experience, standing up for something that was important to my dad turned out to be important to me, too, in the long run. Although I probably, as any kid, I was probably pretty much unaware of what the real issues were. But I remember the '60 presidential convention. It was on my television, like for the whole time it was on, and I--and that's when I first saw John Kennedy and was just completely taken up with his charisma as a kid. We see films now and stuff, but it's hard to, I think, to really grasp the experience of that time--how it affected the Baby Boomer youth. Anyways, so my dad ran for school board and because there were two seats open on the school board, and there was already two members of the school board that were members of the John Birch Society, which is--I like to describe as the embryo of the MAGA (Make America Great Again) movement. They were headquartered in a town called San Marino, and I dunno, they were ultraconservative, extremist organization--right-wing extremist organization. And my dad--there were also two people running for the two seats on the board that were also in the John Birch Society. So there would've been four members of the school board if they won, that were in the John Birch Society. And there were about maybe fifteen people running for those two seats. And it's a nonpartisan election. It's not a Democrat or Republican election. It's completely nonpartisan. But these John Birch Society members had made it into a partisan thing because they wanted to add federal funding for schools and wanted to write their own local curriculum, a lot like what Oklahoma's doing right now and Florida and some other states. So he got together with a friend of his that was, just happened to be my pediatrician, and my dad was what you would call in those days moderate Democrat. And my pediatrician was a moderate Republican and explained the situation, and they decided that they would form a ticket. And then they invited all of the people that were running for the two seats except for the two members of the John Birch Society over to our house and had a meeting. And basically the end of the meeting was that everyone would drop out of the election and get behind my dad and and my doctor as a ticket to defeat extremists that were trying to take over the school board. And they won. And then my dad later became the president of the school board. So that had a very strong impact on me. Just the strategy of doing that and the way that they managed to win in that situation. That was probably when I was like a freshman or sophomore. So, let's see. Going on from there, what's the next thing on the list?

00:37:00FABBI: Right. So obviously during that time of turmoil of the Vietnam War--

00:37:05RAFAEL: --okay. I was thinking that might be right.

00:37:06FABBI: And so the question was how did the Vietnam War affect to your life path and music?

00:37:11RAFAEL: Majorly. Majorly.

00:37:16RAFAEL: I guess we started hearing about it when I was a sophomore, just hardly anything. And by the time I was a junior, we're hearing more about it. We didn't know where Vietnam was. Never had heard of Vietnam. I mean at that time, the world was a lot smaller place. It's like sixty years ago. By the time I was a senior, the reality that I was gonna' have to register for the draft on my eighteenth birthday just became more real to me. It wasn't something I really thought about that much, but approaching the age of eighteen, I knew that as soon as I was eighteen, I was required to register for the draft. And there wasn't a lottery or anything then. It was just, you just had to register for the draft. And then it was really more about your pre-induction physical and whether you were going to college, depending on whether you would get a deferment or what category you would be placed into. And I gotta' say, I didn't know anything about the war. I think maybe the bodies were just starting to come home, but we weren't seeing that much of that yet. But I knew it was a war, and I knew that some people that were drafted were being sent over there. And it was scary. It was scary to me 'cause I was already basically, I think, probably by influence of the songs and stuff that I had been learning, I was already pretty much decidedly anti-war. And I was never like a physically, like a fighter, you know? It just wasn't in my nature. And so the whole idea of it really scared me. And there was one teacher that I had that was a Navy veteran. And I don't know if I just went and talked to him or somehow, he ended up kind of counseling me about it. And he was just sort of really downplaying it, like most people don't get hurt when they're in the military. The percentage of people that are actually wounded and hurt is really low compared to the percentage of people that are in the military. And you have as much chance of being killed in an auto accident as you do of being wounded or killed in a war. I wasn't buying any of it, you know, I just wasn't buying it. And it didn't help me one bit, that conversation. So my birthday came around, I registered for the draft. I was planning to go to college, which I did. I think that was a tough road for me right then because my brother, who was two years older, had gone through this whole thing before me and was in college. He was like, I think he was a junior when I was gonna' be a freshman. And he picked a school to go do that was very expensive. And somehow my parents managed to come up with the money to put him through school at USC (University of Southern California). And then when it was my turn to go, I think they were just kind of--they had kind of done that and kind of burned up the budget, burned up the program, burned up the energy on it. It's a lot to get your kid into college. A lot of support system that's needed and hooking you up with the right information and the right kind of counseling. I didn't have good counseling at school.and my parents were just, I think they were just busy. And so I didn't get a lot of guidance about school. My grades were, they were good enough to get into college, but they were marginally good enough to get into college. I had a couple of subject areas that, I was like a C student and mostly Bs and a couple As maybe. So I applied to Cal State Fullerton. It was a new school, and it was close by. And it was convenient. It wasn't necessarily a school that I wanted to go to or that I--it was just, it was sort of the most convenient four-year school. And I applied there, and I got in. So I went to Cal State Fullerton for my freshman year. My first semester I did okay. But by the time my second semester rolled around, I was pretty deeply immersed in--well, I guess you'd call it counterculture transition. Really started probably in my senior year. There just started to be--I don't even know how it all started, the whole counterculture thing. Maybe it was because there was experimentation being done and articles being written and featured in papers and magazines about LSD and about increased cannabis use and the younger generation and the Sunset Strip and the hippies on the Sunset Strip. That would just, was all just happening right in front of me as I was about to leave high school, my senior year in high school. So probably towards the end of my senior year in high school, I started smoking pot with some friends. There weren't very many people that were doing it. Like in my school, there were probably, I could probably count on my hand the people in my high school that I knew that had also smoked pot. And the interesting thing about it was that the demographic of those seven to ten people crossed all social lines. And that hadn't happened to me before. When I was in high school, the social scene was a caste system. There were the poor kids, there were the Mexican kids that were like--the element of the Latino population that were more like the sort of the, I dunno' if they were in gangs, but just had that energy. They dressed differently. They were kind of like the greasers, you know? And then they were the soces (socials or socialites) that had a little bit more money, mostly college prep kids, that dressed a little nicer, you know? And I was kind of on the edge of that group, you know? And, but all of a sudden, people that I would never have talked to or never have known or interacted with were people that I had smoked pot with on the weekend. So at school, all of a sudden you're crossing those lines. You're walking to class and you encounter somebody that's not in your social group at all, and it's like, Hey, Tony! Hey Joel! And other people are going like, Well, how do you know him? It was, but it was very open. There was a--something about it that felt really good in that kind of opening of societal boundaries. And so the last, probably last semester of high school, was very much that kind of a atmosphere, where I was interacting with kids that I hadn't normally interacted with. (We're doing okay there.) And so that kind of set the tone for my college experience. So by my second semester of college, I had--through a guy who was one of my best friends in college and his brother--kind of found my way down to Laguna Beach, which was like, you know, Fullerton was, from where I lived, halfway to Laguna Beach already, And my best friend's brother was the same age as my brother. He was two years older. But they had immigrated here from Canada, like maybe around eighth grade, freshman year high school. So they were basically Canadians, but they were living here. And this Canadian kid, Don, he became my best friend. And his brother was not a soc. He was more, you know, they didn't have a lot of money, my friends. So him being a little older, was kind of in that poor kid, not gonna' be going to college.. perceived as tough and dangerous. They weren't, they were just kids like us, but that was the perception. So anyways, he ended up initially turning us on to marijuana. And it became kind of a regular thing for us, but it moved us away from alcohol. So--'cause a lot of us were drinking at parties and stuff like that, stuff that kids do sometimes in high school. I was definitely open to experimentation as a teenager. So that through him and some people he knew from Claremont that moved to Laguna Beach, I ended up spending the summer--a lot of my second semester and the summer after--in Laguna Beach. And by the time that the school year was rolling around again, I was also spending a lot of time in Los Angeles because there, that's where the open stages were and I was playing music on the Troubadour and the Ice House and the Ash Grove on their open stage nights. And then any other places I could play little coffee houses, that was all still kind of happening. And so I didn't go back to Cal State Fullerton. I decided I was going to enroll at LA City College, the community college in Los Angeles, which would satisfy my 2-S status with the draft. That was basically the reason I was gonna' continue school. I didn't have any academic goals at that point. My goal was to stay out the Army, stay out of the military. And continue hanging out with my counterculture friends. And playing music. And so I rented an apartment in Los Angeles. I got a job working at a liquor store on Sunset Boulevard called Turner Liquors, right on the Sunset Strip. And I was a delivery boy to the stars. So all these movie stars that lived up in the Hollywood Hills and Beverly Hills and everywhere would order their liquor from this place called Turner Liquor Store. And I was the delivery boy. So I met a lot of really interesting people during that time that I delivered liquor to from that store. I worked there for probably, I don't know, probably six months. I went to register at LA Community College. I was late. I went like the last day to register. The way I tell the story is I paid my, whatever it was, $65 or $70 registration fees, went around to pick my classes, which were pretty much--everything I wanted to take was filled. And, pretty much all that was left was like second year basket weaving, prerequisite required. So before the night was over, I went back to the office and just gave them everything back, and they gave me my money back. And I was out of school. Within a few months, I was 1-A with a draft. And that was in 1968. The end of 1968. So my parents were very concerned, like, You need to be in school. Why did you drop out of school? Now you're gonna', now you're a 1-A. You're gonna get drafted. I said, I'm not gonna' go. My dad encouraged me to apply for a conscientious objector status. So I went through that process, and at the same time, my friends in Laguna--I just, I was hanging out there a lot. There were a lot of acid trips, other psychedelics--no hard drugs but just basically marijuana and mescalin and LSD, mind-expanding experiences with other people, like-minded people. And they had determined--because the police were starting to be very, more proactively enforcing against the counterculture. You know, anybody that looked like a hippie or had long hair or wore bell bottoms or a tie-dyed shirt, you were a target to the police. And in Southern California, it was particularly hostile in certain towns, more so than others. And a few of our friends that were like maybe a little older in the counterculture had moved up to Oregon, up to the Northwest. They were gonna'--in groups, communal groups, we were gonna buy property, find jobs up there and try to make a new life, a different value system. And the people that I was kind of hanging out with decided they were gonna' go to Oregon, and they really wanted me to go with them. And it was big decision time. I was in sort of in the middle of my conscientious objector application process. I had to apply, and then they set up a meeting or an interview with the draft board. Between the time that I applied, which was probably a few months until I got my interview, I was counseled by a guy, who was like a Quaker. He was the father of a friend of mine who, father of a person--who actually later became the guitar player in my, in the Joel Raphael band--that we'd gone to school together and played a little bit of music together. But he, his, they were Quaker background, and he was counseling kids on the draft because they were pacifists and were encouraging kids that wanted to be conscientious objectors, trying to help them succeed at getting a conscientious objector status. It became known to me at that time that if you were Jewish, your chances of getting a CO were very slim just because you were Jewish, by reputation, I guess, I don't know--Jewish people were thought of as fighters. I don't know why, but it was just a fact that if you were a Jew, you could get a CO, but it wasn't likely. So I did everything I could with, through the counseling, to learn what I could to have a proper interview. And I went for my interview and within a month or two after my interview, they sent me a 1-A. Sorry, you're a 1-A. And so that was about the time that we moved up to Oregon, about twelve or thirteen of us, caravanned up there in a few different vehicles. We didn't have a place. We were just going to the home of some other people that we knew that had moved up there who said, Yeah, you can come and stay with us until you could find a place and get jobs and this kind of thing. And so we headed up there--I just kind of just put it behind me. I didn't care. I was 1-A, I didn't care. I, it was like, Screw the draft board, screw the military, screw the Vietnam War. I'm not going, I don't believe in any of that stuff. And other things are important to me. So I'm going with my friends to the Northwest, and we're gonna' somehow buy a piece of property, and we're all gonna' build our own houses on the property, and we're gonna have our own community. This is kind of the dream. I see the counterculture people at that time in a couple of different categories. So there were the antiwar protestors. There were the, just the flat out druggies that just, you know, went down. And then the back-to-the-landers. And that was kind of my group. New value system, back to the Earth, all that stuff. And so that formed my value system. I think that, and I've freely admitted that I think that psychedelics had something to do with that. I have friends and for myself as well, you know, when people ask me, How did you become an artist? You know, how did you remain an artist? Sometimes it surprisingly it will start with, Well, when I was a young adult, I took some LSD. That sounds funny, but I mean, there's a truth to that. And now people are microdosing on some of these things, like people that you would never imagine would even try something like that. Or using it for like, mental health therapy and stuff. I think that the counterculture--us counterculture kids--actually pioneered some stuff that stuck. We didn't change the world like we thought we were going to, but we did help perpetrate some changes. So we got up there, and I was contacted--forwarded a letter from my parents saying you're 1-A. You need to be at your draft--at this address on this date for a pre-induction physical to determine if you're physically fit to be in the military. So I'm in Oregon, and I'm supposed to come down to California to go for a physical, and I'm just thinking like, I'm not gonna' get down there for that. And so somebody, I don't know if, how I thought of it, somebody must have said like, Well, why don't you write to your draft board and tell 'em you live in Oregon now? So I did that, and it took them a minimum of three months--it might have been longer, it might have been four months or five months--before they wrote me back and said, Okay, your draft board has now changed to Eugene, Oregon. And this is your pre-induction physical notice. So you're to go to the induction center in Eugene,--or maybe it was in Portland, I don't know where it was--for your pre-induction physical on such-and-such date. So I thought, well, I guess I'll just write them a letter and tell 'em I moved back to California, which I did, and they followed suit several months later, changed my draft board back to Pasadena and sent me another pre-induction physical notice. So then I wrote them another letter, and I told them that I've moved up to Washington state. And so a couple months later I got a letter that said, We've determined that you are avoiding your pre-induction physical. And so on such-and-such date, you are to go to any draft board anywhere and report for an induction physical. And if you're found to be physically fit, you'll be immediately inducted into the armed services. Well, we were living, at that point, we had separated from the group that we had moved up there with. And we were just like a couple and we had--

01:00:48FABBI: --so this is you--

01:00:50RAFAEL: me and Lauren. Yeah.

01:00:51FABBI: And where did you meet?

01:00:52RAFAEL: We met in high school.

01:00:53FABBI: Okay.

01:00:55RAFAEL: Yeah, Lauren and I met in high school. Just to backtrack a little bit. I guess it was my junior year. We were both in a play together. And my mother had been--who knew Lauren's mother through the PTA or something--had asked me a few different times, Do you know so-and-so's daughter? She's a year younger than you. Do you know her? I don't think so, but I was kind of wondering who she was. And then I realized that she was in the play. And so she was in the--we had like a multi-purpose room that was where we did our high school plays. And one day, we were there for a rehearsal right near the beginning of the play. And I walked up and introduced myself to her, and she knew who I was, and I offered her a ride home. I had a license at that point, I was a junior. And gave her a ride home, and we started dating, and we had a very up-and-down relationship for my junior and senior year. You know, we were boyfriend and girlfriend and then we broke up, and then we got back together, and then we broke up, and then we got back together. And then when I was gonna' be leaving for high school (college), I was already on my counterculture journey, and she wasn't. And it just, it wasn't gonna' work out. And so I just broke it off. 'Cause I'm going to college. I'm not gonna' be in town anymore. In fact, I moved out of my house maybe two weeks before I graduated from high school. And she wasn't having it, so she followed me, and she finally caught up with me in Laguna Beach at my friend's place. And so she ended up, she was a freshman at Cal State Fullerton also, which she had applied to go to 'cause she thought that I was going there. But then found out that I dropped out. But now she's at Cal State Fullerton. So she then dropped out of school and took the journey north with the whole group. When we got up there, we were kind of estranged at that point. We were like, What is she doing here? You know? We were so young, you know? So we got up there and within, probably within a month, we figured out that the two of us had a whole lot more in common than the people we'd moved up there with--that come from a different background, different value system even than ours, and not one that we could abide. And so it seemed like an eternity, but it really didn't take that long before we split off and--to make our own way. Got into some trouble in Portland, Oregon. I've got a song about it called Old Portland Town. And there was a pretty vibrant counterculture scene in Portland at that time. And Portland was not the city it is today. In fact, I don't know if you know the history of Portland, but it was one of the--it was very racist at one time. And so nothing like it is today. It's one of the more liberal cities in the country now. But at that time, I think that the general population, like what you would call the typical society, this, I don't know how to really describe it, but just the society in general was very intolerant of the counterculture. And so there was a lot of police. There was a very big counterculture scene in Portland, and it was different than down here. Maybe it was just different than what I'd experienced, but in Portland, it was like the whole counterculture, the whole underground, was like one scene. Whereas down here, the people I was hanging with, we were all sort of like-minded. We weren't druggies. We were smoking pot, and we were experimenting with psychedelics, but we weren't doing hard drugs. But in Portland, the hard druggies, the thieves, the hippies, I mean, it was all just mixed up, you know? And there was--they infiltrated the scene with an undercover cop, who infiltrated the scene for about six months. And that was when Nixon was President. And they had, he had the Department of Justice had instigated the no-knock law. So they didn't need warrants to, if they wanted to raid somebody or search their premises, they could just do it with, I guess with probable cause. But they didn't need a warrant. And they had, so they had the no-knock law, and they had another thing called secret indictments, which instead of, once the grand jury had published an indictment for someone, instead of a warrant being issued, they would just stick that over in a file and just like accumulate indictments on a particular scene, which was the counterculture scene in Portland, basically. And so, while we were in Portland--we had actually, we had been down here. We had just come back up to Portland, and we were visiting at a friend's house, and the door got kicked in. And it was raided by a bunch of cops and plain clothes cops, all their guns drawn. It's pretty scary. And there was probably about twelve of us just hanging around at somebody, at this friend's house getting high. And they kicked in the door and then they basically took each one of us into the bathroom and searched us. And they--I think they called a matron for the girls that were there. And they had two secret indictments on me for sales of hashish. And what I had done is I had given a piece of hashish to this undercover guy, who we didn't trust. When we saw him--the first time we saw him--we were sure he was a undercover guy, sure he was a narc. This was what we called, undercover cops back then were narcs, narcotics officers. Well we were sure he was an undercover narc, and we would have nothing to do with him. People were telling us like, Oh no, he's cool. I got high with him the other day. This kind of stuff. And so after several months went by on a very rainy day, we encountered this guy at a park, where a lot of people used to hang out at Laurelhurst Park in Portland. And there was hardly anybody there. Just us, and he walked up to us and started talking with us. And we were standoffish at first, talking and talking. And then finally he said, Well, I'm gonna' go over to the donut shop down at the corner over there and get some coffee. If you guys wanna' come along, I'll treat. And it was rainy, and it was cold, and we went with him. And we sat there and visited with him for quite a while. And I ended up giving him a piece of hashish--break it off--a piece of hashish that I had, giving him a piece of it. And that ended up being two indictments for sales. And so I had to go through that whole court process up there. It really tied up the whole judicial system because they busted about, I think about 280 people over a period of like three days. So they literally had to empty the drunk tank at the jail. They had to empty the juvenile tank at the county jail to move us all into the jail. And so they moved us from the city jail. I guess we went for an indictment and then they moved us into the county jail, issued us uniforms. It was pretty intense. For some reason, Lauren's charges got dropped. So they arrested her, too, but then they dropped her charges--'cause they didn't really have anything on her--the next day. But they had these two indictments on me. There was a bail bondsman that was interested in bailing me out, but my parents decided that they would leave me in jail for a week or two to teach me a lesson. I'm not sure it was a really good lesson. But it affected me pretty heavily. I felt pretty abandoned in there. And finally got out, went to trial, and got two five-year probations concurrent. So it was ten years worth of probation, but they were run concurrently. So it was like, I'd be on probation for five years. And that was in 1969. So other thing--I had to leave the state of Oregon. So we came back down here under the, theoretically under the jurisdiction of my parents. But I moved in with a friend in Los Angeles, and Lauren moved in back with her parents. But we were still a couple. Eventually we found a place in Laurel Canyon, a little house. And this was 1970, so it was right when the Laurel Canyon music scene was just like in full swing. Crosby, Stills & Nash were making their second record. Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, I guess would've been. And I got a job. I had learned to do leather, to sew leather clothes from a friend that I had met in my travels--that stayed with us for a while in Oregon, and he had moved on. But he had taught me how to make leather, how to stitch with an awl and stitch leather stuff. And so I got a job at North Beach Leather in Los Angeles. And one of the people that worked there was David Crosby's girlfriend. So in the afternoons, a couple times a week, David would come into the shop, and I dunno' if you remember any of the early pictures of David Crosby, but he always had the leather jacket with the fringe. Well, it came from North Beach Leather. So he would come in to see his girlfriend towards the end of the day, and he was a very down-to-earth, kind of just easygoing person. So that's when I first met David Crosby. Turned out--and this was after, I don't know if you know his history at all--but he had a girlfriend that was killed in a car crash around that time, previous to when I met him. So this girl that I knew, her name was Shelly, that worked at North Beach Leather also, she was his current girlfriend. And she was living in a little house up in Laurel Canyon. But he, David wanted her to move on to his yacht. He had a yacht called the Mayan, you know, famously known yacht, sailboat of David Crosby's. And so she moved on his sailboat and gave us her little house in Laurel Canyon. So we lived there for maybe, I don't know, the rest of the year, maybe six or seven months, while I worked at the leather shop. And then I got a letter from my friend, who had taught me how to do leather. And he was in Seattle, and he was--he had rented a grocery store, like a little grocery store, corner market type thing, a very old neighborhood market. And there was an apartment upstairs. And he had rented that place--it was no longer a market--so he was turning that into a leather shop and was living in the apartment. It was a two bedroom apartment upstairs. And he invited me and Lauren to come up there and help him start this leather shop. So we moved to Seattle, and that was in 1970. I'm still on probation, so they had to change my probation officer to Seattle. I had like monthly visits to a probation officer. They didn't have drug tests back then, so I was never drug tested, but I would have to go visit my probation officer once a month, just check in. I guess he just sort of looked me over and decided if I was okay or not, I'm not sure. But I had, I think, three different probation officers during that time. So we lived in Seattle for not a year. He ended up finding a girlfriend, and she moved in with us. We had had a perfect trio, you know, a perfect triad. But then when she moved in, it just completely messed up the dynamic. And all of a sudden it just, everything was like a lot of friction, and we realized that we needed to leave. So we started looking for another place, and we found, we drove north to where the town of Everett is, north of Seattle. And we went up into the mountains just looking for a place. Like we were literally looking for some old shack or some old house that we could move into, maybe even squat into, but we were just looking for some other place to live. I was twenty, I guess I was twenty years old, and Lauren was like nineteen or something like that. So we, I'm trying to think. Sometimes my chronology's not perfect. Anyway, we moved up there, we moved out of the place in Seattle, and we found a place on the Mountain Loop Highway that runs from a town called Granite Falls. Like we would take the road towards Snohomish, and then you'd hit this town called Granite Falls. And then from there, there was a Mountain Loop Road that went through the mountains through the Cascades--western side of the Cascades--and then came back down in Arlington, Washington, which is like further north. And we got up on that road outta' Granite Falls, and we found a place for rent up there. It was called the Olympic Motel. And it were these little cabins about the size of this room. The whole cabin was about the size of this room. And then there was like a house that the manager lived in, and we rented one of those cabins, I think it was like 60 dollars a month. And we put a wood stove in it, and we lived there for about a month. And one day I was driving up a little further up the road, and there was this old house, like a really old barnwood-looking house. And there were two guys working on a car in the driveway in front of the house. It was like a driveway and a creek and a little bridge over the creek and then this house. And then they were working on this car, and they were both like a counterculture, like hippie types, you know, long hair and--and I thought, Wow, it's some of my people. So I pulled over, and I went over and introduced myself. And they took me across the street and through the woods, there was another little cabin there that a couple other, another couple lived in. So I met them. They were all from Illinois, had migrated to the west and were on their way to Canada to avoid the draft. And turned out that the one couple in the small cabin had been in a fender banger accident and didn't have any insurance and were being kind of chased down by the people who they'd had the accident with. Nobody had been hurt but just for insurance. And so they were kind of on the run. They didn't know what to do, so they were gonna' go back to Illinois. So they left, and they said, You can have our house. I said, Well, what's the arrangement? They said, Well somebody in Marysville owns it, and they only use it during the summertime 'cause they have a Girl Scout group. And it was about the size of this room also, but it was a cedar shake covered cabin--very rustic looking cabin--right on the Stillaguamish River, maybe fifty, sixty yards from the Stillaguamish River. And so they moved out, and we moved in. A few months later, the landlord came up one day and knocked on the door. And it wasn't the same people that he told could live in the house, right? So, he told us we could stay there until April. And then that they used the place from April until, I guess, August. And so we'd have to be gone for the summer. So when the summer was over, looking for a place again, we couldn't find one. And we just decided to look up those people in Marysville. So what I did is we went down to a friend of ours' house, and she cut my hair, and my hair was like, down to about here (elbow length). She cut my hair probably about like it is now. And then we went as a couple to this house in Marysville, where the landlord lived and pleaded our case. And, you know, We'd really like to move back in there for the winter. And he said, Well, the outhouse that you've been using--'Cause there was no bathroom. It was an outhouse. Everything was no utilities. We would get our water from a spring in a bucket, like gas cans that were for water. And then we'd pour that in a barrel that has spigot on it over our sink. So we'd have to fill that up about every four days or something like that. It was definitely a back-to-the-land thing. We had kerosene lamps for light, cook stove to cook stuff on. And they said, Well, you can move back in there and pay us 5 dollars a month and build an outhouse, because the outhouse we were using was on the next property over. So we agreed, built the outhouse, and lived there for the next winter. During that winter, we realized that Lauren was pregnant with Jamaica. And we were--

01:21:17FABBI: That was in 1970?

01:21:44RAFAEL: That was in 1971.

01:21:45FABBI: Okay.

01:21:46RAFAEL: And my dad had died in 1970. We had come down to get some leather for the leather shop. Lauren and I had borrowed a friend's panel truck, and we drove down to her parents' house, and we were staying there, and my dad was having some health issues, and he went into the hospital for some tests. And then that morning, about three in the morning, Lauren's mom came in and woke us up and said, Your dad passed away. So we stuck around for about another week and then headed back up north to the leather shop. I was twenty-one, so I lost my dad early. He was sixty-one years old. So we were in this cabin and now we're gonna have a baby, and one of the guys--the guy who was the manager at the Olympic Hotel and I had become friends, and he was kind of mechanically inclined. And so we found this old Chevy truck. It was a '53 Chevy pickup truck that was parked in an old field. It was like a dead truck out in the field. And bought it for 50 dollars and then he helped me basically rebuild the engine and do like a valve job and a few different things on it. He knew how to do all that stuff. So together we worked on that and got that truck running. And my mom told me, she said, Well look, my dad and my mom had bought some property three miles from here on the same road, just on the other side of 395. Like if you go across 395, the first driveway you hit goes up the hill to the top of the hill over there, three miles from here. And they had bought ten acres there to retire on in 1962, and they had developed it into an avocado orchard. And once my dad passed away whenever my mom would get anything from that property, she would just take it and stick it in a drawer 'cause she couldn't deal with it. And so a few years went by. So '71 rolls around, three years after my dad died, and we were gonna have a baby. And she says, Well, I will put a mobile home or a trailer on the property if you'll come down and take care of it and help me get out debt with the property, you know, with the growth service. And so that sounded pretty good to us. So that's when we moved back to California. And I was still on probation. And now we're getting to how did I support myself, right? Is that coming up?

01:24:02FABBI: So the move to North County and how, what you did for work during that time.

01:24:19RAFAEL: So we actually had had Jamaica. We moved onto that property, and we built a shed that looks kind of like the shed I have out in back here. And we moved into that shed. She was like seven or eight months pregnant. And we had a friend that was maybe five years older than us that had her last baby that was natural childbirth--Lamaze method. And she'd had a midwife and a doctor that did home deliveries. And we decided that we wanted to do that. It was unheard of at the time. So we got a lot of criticism from people about that. But we hired this doctor. My brother actually helped me with the money for the doctor, and he agreed to deliver our baby. But he wouldn't come and deliver it in the shed we were living in 'cause we didn't have the trailer yet. And the baby was due in August. We'd been there for the summer. And so my brother was out of town. He lived in San Dimas. So he told us we could stay at his house and have the baby there. So we had the baby at my brother's house in San Dimas, but we were living on this property. And then within a month or so after that, the trailer was moved on--it was like a mobile home, and it was moved onto the property. And we set up household there. I got--my first job was with the growth service that had been taking care of my mom's property. Not to take care of my mom's property, though, but to just to work for them. And I got sent out with a crew of migrant workers to clear some weeds on a hill near Fallbrook. They dropped me off. We loaded in the back of a truck, and they drove us out to different places and dropped us here and there and everywhere. And they dropped me out on Reche Road next to this bank that had to have the weeds cleared with one of those weed sticks. So I did that for about a week and got a real appreciation for how hard the work is that migrant workers have to do. But then, luckily, I was looking for another job the whole time, and I got a job at an irrigation supply at Fallbrook called Southwest Irrigation. And I was like a counter boy, like basically when people come in to buy couplings and elbows and tees and pipe, I would wait on them at the counter. And then I also was, would deliver pipe out to the big jobs they were developing into orchards and kiwis and avocados and all that kind of stuff. At the same time, around that same time, we took a class from the agricultural extension on avocado farming 'cause we had ten acres of avocados that were just coming into production on my mom's property. My mom and my brother were pretty much in charge of all of that 'cause he had taken over my dad's business, and was just considered more legitimate than us. We were like counterculture, like not to be trusted or whatever. So I mean, not that they didn't trust us, but I think that they just--I don't think they thought they could depend on us, you know? So they kind of ran the show, and we needed resources, and I had friends I'd met around here that, we'd learned about avocado farming. And I had other friends that were farmers, and we were trying to do as right as we could by that orchard because it was just coming into production. And there were some things that needed to be done. They needed some equipment they didn't have. We just had our little car that we were driving around in. But we needed a truck, and we needed a tractor. But these are things that my mom and my brother were not interested in financing. And so after about three-and-a-half years there and after the birth of my second daughter, who was born on the property in a teepee, same doctor--

01:28:44FABBI: And what is her name?

01:28:56RAFAEL: Carina.

01:31:31FABBI: Carina.

01:31:44RAFAEL: Yeah. And so she was born on the property. And sometime shortly after that, I kind of made the plea again, like, look, we need--I think I had a tractor at that point. They'd got me a used tractor. But I said, We need a salary. I mean we have free rent, but we need, we're taking care of a ten acre orchard. We're selling the fruit for you, we're making sure that it's taken care of. And basically the people around here that I knew had told me, They should be paying you like a couple hundred bucks a month besides just giving you a place to live there. So I kind of--what's the word I'm trying to think of?--lobbied for a salary, and they weren't having it, you know? And so I was pretty frustrated with my mom and my brother at that point, and I kind of called their bluff. I said, Well look, if you guys are not willing to put into the property what it needs, then you should probably sell it because it's coming into production, and there's gonna' be a lot of stuff needed. And if you don't do what you need to do, it's just gonna' be a big loss. And so they decided to sell it. So that meant we had to find another place to live. So we had developed some friendships with some folks that we still are very close to. Well actually he's passed away, but, his wife, Lizzie, David and Lizzie, our friends, had a place up in the Sierras near Twain Harte, which is in the gold country off of Highway 49 on the Sonora Pass. And they had a thirty-acre apple orchard. They were also back-to-the-landers, right? They're a little older than us. And actually, they had been able to get the land up there where they went. And so we'd become friends with them, and so we decided, well, let's move up there near them, you know? 'Cause land is a lot cheaper than it is here. So we found a place up there to rent, to try to explore the area. And I was gonna' try to--I was really just trying to make, just starting to make some headway with my music here in California. There was a group in California called The Alternative Chorus. It was in Hollywood. It was called the Los Angeles Alternative Chorus (Los Angeles Songwriters Showcase).And it was run by a guy named Len Chandler and a guy named John Braheny. And they were both songwriters, working songwriters. And if you read Bob Dylan's book, Chronicles, which I didn't read 'til many years later, after I was no longer in touch with Len Chandler, I found out that Len Chandler was a mentor of Bob Dylan's when Bob Dylan moved to New York in the Greenwich Village scene. And he was this Black guy, who was a songwriter who rode a motorcycle and didn't take anything from anybody. He was a real outspoken progressive person. And Bob Dylan had the utmost respect for him, and he outlines it in his book, Chronicles. But anyways, Len Chandler was one of these two guys that ran this Alternative Chorus. And what they did is they, you could make an appointment with them as a songwriter and then you'd show up at this little place in Hollywood that they had behind a house, another little house behind a house, where they would do this Alternative Chorus thing. And they had a cassette recorder. And they would have you play like five or six songs just right there for them into their cassette recorder. And they'd probably do like, do this once or twice a month and have like four or five songwriters come in over a day or over two days. And then they would go through everything and pick out the top songs and contact those songwriters and say, Okay, we picked out two of your songs, and we want you to come and showcase at our showcase night at the Ash Grove on such and such a night. Well, every time I went there, they picked out two of my songs, and they were real champions for me. I'm emotional to talk about--

01:33:43FABBI: That's okay. Take your time. Yeah.

01:33:44RAFAEL: Yeah. Because as an artist, you run up against the wall so many times. But these guys, they heard what I was doing, and they acknowledged it, and they showcased my music. It didn't get me that far., but the acknowledgement from two people that were in the business that would let you come in and showcase and make some connections. So I worked with those guys for probably three or four years. Over three or four years, they probably showcased me four or five times at different venues. And some of it led to somebody being interested in a song, a publisher being interested in a song, or something. So we had just--so right when that was happening, we moved up to Calaveras County, which was the county north of where our friends lived. And we were completely isolated up there. It was like, we didn't know anybody, and they were, our friends were fifty miles away. So it was kind of a trip to get there, and we weren't seeing them that often. I didn't have a job, so I found a place in Sonora, a bar that would hire me to play three nights a week at like 50 bucks a night. But that was like a thirty mile drive on windy roads, Highway 49. And the place was called the County Jail. I think I was actually off probation by then. I'd managed to get off probation by then. But it was kind of funny 'cause the place was called the County Jail. And so I would drive there three nights a week and play for two or three hours for 50 bucks. And that's what we were living on. The place we were renting was like a labor house, like a lumberjack labor house up in the woods. And we stayed there about six months, and it was just like nothing happening up there. And I'd just started to make some connections down here, and I just felt like, boy, what a mistake to come up here. Right around that time I wrote a song called Goldmine. And we had met--through a friend in Seattle when we lived there--we had met--Well, let's see how I explain this. We'd met these two older folks, I mean, four or five years older than us, a couple in Seattle that were kind of our grounding people there. And they had been friends with Jesse Colin Young from the Youngbloods, which was a--I don't know if you know who that was, but they were a big group in the sixties. He had that hit song, Get Together, was that big hit song for Jesse. And his brother-in-law, his wife's brother, was a really great piano player. The Youngbloods just broke up, or they were just about to break up, and he was starting another band called the Jesse Colin Young Band. And Scott Lawrence, his brother-in-law, was gonna' be the piano player. So they sent him up there 'cause he was also trying to deal with the draft. And he came up to Seattle to stay with these two older friends that we knew that were friends of Jesse's and Susie Young, to deal with the draft board in Seattle, because he had a letter from Jesse that basically said that Jesse was homosexual and that Scott was homosexual, and they had a relationship and that was gonna' get him outta' the draft. But they couldn't do it in San Francisco 'cause too many people knew who Jesse was. And they wouldn't fly in San Francisco, but in Seattle, nobody knew anybody. So they sent him up there to deal with it, to get out of the draft. And that's how we met him, 'cause he stayed there for about two or three weeks. And so when we came back down to Southern California, then the band, his band, was going. Jesse's band was going, and Scott was in the band. And they were playing in LA after we came back down here. And we kind of finagled our way backstage somehow. You know, we kept saying we knew Scott, and we were trying to get backstage. And all of a sudden, Scott walked by, we go, Hey, Scott. You know? So he brought us backstage, and we met Jesse and Susie, his sister, and so we had cultivated a relationship with them. So now we're in Wilseyville, up in Calaveras County, and I've just written this song, Goldmine. And Lauren writes a letter to Jesse Colin Young and asks him if I can come over to the Bay Area and record this song, Goldmine, in his studio, which, I was--cold feet to do that. But she said, I'm just gonna write him. All they could say is no. Well, he said yes. So we went over there and recorded the song and then Alternative Showcase showcased that song. A couple different publishers held that song, but nobody ultimately picked it up. So we moved back down here to a little place in Oceanside. A rental place in Oceanside. And we were probably there for under a year. So I, we had a baby and a 3-year-old. Lauren decided to get her Montessori credential 'cause she'd been like a helper at the Montessori school. We still had a baby that was gonna' go to the Montessori school. So she started to get her Montessori training. And I started, was able to procure a lawnmower and an edger, a rake, and a shovel and a hoe. And I started to accumulate some gardening customers up in the LA area. The first one was my brother. And then he had, he knew somebody that needed a gardener. So that was the second client. And then Lauren's aunt lived up in that area. And so she hired me. So I had three gardening clients. So I would drive up on like a Tuesday, stay at my brother's house, next morning, do his gardening, go over to another place in town and do the gardening there. And then it would be about one. I would drive into Hollywood with a stack of reel-to-reel tapes of my songs and hit all the high rises, which are filled with publishers. I'd just go in and look at the directories and find out where all the publishers were. And then I would go to every publisher and drop off a tape. Like every week. And my tapes were like piling up at publishers 'cause nobody was listening to them. They were just getting dropped off there. So that didn't really--one guy actually decided that to hold the song, Goldmine. And they gave me like a letter of intent that they wanted to hold it and so not to show it to anybody else. And that was about three months or four months, and then they decided they weren't gonna' do it. So I have lots of those stories. You have to, it's like shots on goal, you know, you have to take shots on goal to score. So, let's see, from there--we hated that place at Oceanside. And we had our kids back in the school in Fallbrook, where they had been when we lived on my mom's property. And we found a place in Fallbrook to rent. It was an eight-acre avocado orchard with a house on it. And so we were able to parlay our way into being the managers of the orchard for the guy who owned the property in exchange for the rent of the house. So another similar kind of setup. So we lived there for four years. And during that time I started gigging. I actually, I had a job--okay, get back to my jobs again. So I had that job with the growth service. So when, after about two weeks of that, I got the job at the irrigation place. I worked there for about a year. And I left there because one of the guys that was a manager at the irrigation place heard about an opportunity and told me about it. He knew two carpenters, two local carpenters from Fallbrook, that were building a big house, just maybe six miles from here, up in the Olive Hill area between here and Fallbrook. It was a custom home they were building for the guy that owned El Molino Mills that used to make all the health food flour and all that stuff. And I can't think of his name right now. But anyways I got hired on as a carpenter's apprentice with those two guys. And they basically taught me basic carpentry and framing. It was really cool job. They were two older guys, like almost my grandfather's age, that had been carpenters around here for years and old school, you know. And I had to do all the really dirt work. But I learned a lot, that I could put into my personal toolkit. About building and construction and wood and hammers and saws and all that stuff. When that house was done, they didn't have another project, but they got me a job with a construction crew in Oceanside that was building a, it was like a, I think it was an office building. And I went to work with them as a framer for about a month. And I hated it. It was just like, 'cause it was nothing like working with these two old carpenters. These, they were all guys about my age or maybe a little older and just very construction worker kind of energy, and it just wasn't my cup of tea. And so I left there and I looked around for another job, and I got a job at the Fallbrook Enterprise, the newspaper. And I had a part-time job there as a pasting--pasting up the real estate and what do they call 'em? Like the want ads. I forget, there's another name for it. So I was doing like, maybe four pages in the newspaper every week. But it was before computers. So everything was like tape on a light board with an exacto knife. And then you would get, the letters would be generated by one computer that would just generate your copy. You'd put it through a waxer and cut it up and stick it to the grid board on a light table. You've probably seen that stuff, paste-up work like that. So I did that and that was really a, I'd done some of that stuff on my own as a kid. I was always into making posters, and I'd go to the stationary store and get the transfer type. And so I kind of had that already. And then working there, they had all the tools, all the different kind of tapes, and the exacto knife and the waxer. So I really enjoyed that job there, and while I was working there, a guy I had met in LA in auditioning to be in a band that I ended up not being in, had moved to Oceanside. And he had been at the same audition, and we'd all exchanged phone numbers. And he knew that I lived nearby. He was a bass player. So he contacted me. And we ended up forming a duo--me playing my songs and him playing bass and singing harmony. And we worked our way down to an open stage in Encinitas at a club called The Stingaree, which, which was owned by Jack Tempchin. I don't know if you know who he is, but he's the, he goes by Jack Tempchin, Eagles songwriter--Jack Tempien. He wrote Peaceful Easy Feeling, and Already Gone. He wrote Slow Dancing for Johnny Rivers. He's written multiple hit songs. And he lives in Encinitas, just a regular guy, great songwriter. And I had gotten onto him when we first moved to this area, and we'd become friends. 'Cause he had an open stage that he ran at like a music store over there. It was called The Blue Ridge Music Store in Encinitas. It's not there anymore. So I would go play the open mic there that he ran one day a week, or maybe it was a couple times a month. And then he had some success 'cause the Eagles became really big and his songs were like, their hits. And so he was able to buy a nice house in Encinitas. And he bought a bar, and he thought, Well, I'm gonna' buy a bar and make it into a music club. So he made this club called The Stingaree. It was named after a song he'd written called The Stingaree and which was a song about a big party in San Diego that he'd gone to. And so they had an open stage there one night a week. Before the band would play, they would have an open stage. And so we went down there one night and played the open stage. And the band that was playing that night after us was Rosie Flores and the Screamers, Rosie and the Screamers. And I don't know, you probably know who Rosie Flores is, but she's actually being inducted into the San Diego Music Hall of Fame in September. She's my age, but, and she doesn't live here anymore. But she was, at that time, she was like really well known in the San Diego scene here. And she'd had an all-girl band. And now she had this band called The Screamers. And they were packing the place every time they played there. And so we came in one of the nights and played on the open stage, and she heard me play that song, Goldmine. And she came up to me after that. And she wanted to, she wanted that song, you know, she wanted to play it. So I gave her the song, taught her the song, and then we kind of hit it off. And we started playing together. And we ended up--my friend ended up going to Saudi Arabia to work for some oil company or something, the bass player guy. And so Rosie and I ended up being a duo 'cause her band had broken up. And so it was Rosie Flores and at that time, I was using a different name. I've had like three last names. My born last name, and then a name I took on sort of through the whole draft thing, and then my name now, which has been my name for many, many years, which is a Spanish translation of my middle name. So anyways, the two of us had this duo, and we were playing five nights a week, plus I had the job at the newspaper. So I was making okay money, enough to keep us in groceries and pay our rent. Well, we didn't really have any rent, but pay our expenses, our utilities, and all that kind of stuff. And it was all going along pretty good. And then Rosie decided she was gonna' move to LA because San Diego--there was just like, it's like being a big fish in a small bowl. You couldn't really do anything past what we were doing. We were very popular. We were playing in two different clubs four or five nights a week. But she was the draw. I was the songwriter guy, and she was the singer, so she was singing some of my songs. I was singing some of my songs. And then we were doing a bunch of covers that she was singing, and I was singing harmony. So she decided she was gonna' move to LA, and that kind of left me on my own again. So I didn't have a sound system. We were using her sound system. So at that point, a friend of mine from school named Tad Williams had come into some money. His dad had died and had left him and his brother some money, and he told me that he wanted to be my sponsor. So he was like my first patron, and he bought me a sound system. And he basically--I still had the part-time job at the newspaper--but he made sure that our bills were paid for the next couple years. He'd come out and check on us and see how we were doing. And if we were a little short, he'd give me a thousand dollars, to last me in the next couple months. And that got us through, so I could continue to play music. So I was hauling my sound system to a club over in Cardiff three or four nights a week. And it was just basically playing in a bar for four hours a night. Pretty rough gig. So I did that. Then he got killed in a plane crash. And so that was over. That was about the time that--there was a paper in Oceanside called the Blade Tribune at that time. And it was--I forget--it was owned by a company that owned a bunch of newspapers. And the guy who owned the newspapers was the father of this guy, who became a fan of Rosie and myself. He would come to a lot of our shows. So when she left town, he continued to support me, coming to the shows and stuff like that. And he was the music editor at the Blade Tribune. This is a little bit outta' chronology, but this is about 1976-77 is when, she probably left town in '77. And so I was doing these solo gigs at a few different clubs here and there. And just trying to kinda' keep my head above water. And Rick Danko, the band, you know the band? They had just done that movie, The Last Waltz, and the band had broken up, that was like the end of the band. And then Rick Danko, the bass player from the band, started a band of his own, just called the Rick Danko Band. And this guy, who was the Blade Tribune editor, called me up one day and said, Hey, Rick Danko is gonna be playing at the La Paloma Theater. He is doing two shows on this one night in like an early show and a late show, and they don't have an opening act. Here's the promoter's name. You should go over there and talk to 'em. So I went over there, and I got the gig. So that was my first opening for a national touring act. I opened two shows for Rick Danko at the La Poloma Theater. And Rick Danko and his brother, Terry, came out during my set for both shows, up in the balcony and listened to my set and really liked my songs. And so Rick and I became friends. And he had me open a couple more shows for him when he was in California. 'Cause he would travel all over the place, and he lived in Malibu at the time. So I kind of became a sometime opening act for Rick Danko, who would be traveling with all kinds of people. One of the times in his band was Paul Butterfield--was in his band, or different really high-visibility players that he would pick up along the way and they--so I got to meet a lot of people through Rick. Like I met Paul Butterfield. I actually went to Rick Danko's birthday party, his 40th birthday party, in Malibu. And I met Richard Manuel and his wife from the band and Garth Hudson from the band. They were both at his party. And then I met Joe Cocker through him. I met Bobby Norwood through him. I mean, just a number of people that he would be interacting with me, would just introduce me as his friend and songwriter friend of his. And because I opened that show for him, I got the idea like, Wow, there's all these national shows coming into town. There's like three different promoters promoting in different venues. And so those became my targets. Instead of playing in bars for four hours with cigarette smoke and nobody listening, I started--every time I'd hear about a concert, I'd just keep my eyes on the ads and as soon as someone would be announced, I'd go hit up the promoter. I had a review from the Rick Danko show that was written by my friend, where I had a really good mention, and I parlayed that to a show with Jesse Colin Young when he came to town, because I knew him already. And then that--I ended up getting a show with John Lee Hooker from that, Country Joe and the Fish from that, Emmylou Harris. I mean, the list is like really long, you know? And I did that for the next maybe few years. At one point I did have another job after the Jazzercise job (Joel worked as the audio person on video tapes of original Jazzercise classes created by Judi Missett.), with Community Ed (education). A friend of ours, was working in the Community Ed system, and she said, I think that you could teach on a limited credential--it's like a lifetime limited credential based on experience--in the Community Ed department for senior citizens that are in like rest homes and convalescent hospitals. And so for about a year, I sang songs and played movies that I would rent at the library for senior citizens in rest homes. I would interface with the activities directors at these various homes. And through the Community Ed system, I would go and do a two-hour class for their activities of these homes. It was one of the hardest jobs I ever had. But it served me really well because it was a really good hourly rate. And I could do it like two days, three days a week without having to spend all my time at work while I was trying to do music and art.

01:58:25FABBI: So the classes were music you were teaching?

01:58:28RAFAEL: Well, they wanted--initially she wanted me to do like an exercise class, just a stretching class with these older folks that are like my age now. But I didn't have any experience in that. So I said, what I could do is I could--I found out that there were a lot of films available, 16-millimeter films back then, through the library system that I could check out. And most of the centers had projectors. So I would go in, I would show them a half-an-hour film on just an interesting subject. I mean, it might be Will Rogers' California Ranch or it might be a documentary about an old guy that lives in Oregon that builds log cabins. I mean, just anything interesting I could find. And then the rest of the class would be sing-alongs. I'd performed some songs and do some sing-alongs. And some of those songs were Woody Guthrie songs. So I was pulling that back into my repertoire, Also, a good place to end, too, is that at one point, because I knew a lot of Woody Guthrie songs, at one point in my career when my kids were young, I decided to look into Woody Guthrie with more depth, because I realized how many people he had influenced and particularly Bob Dylan. And I thought, Well, rather than just listen to Bob Dylan, I want to go back a step and see what it was he found when he was influenced by Woody Guthrie. And so I kind of took a journey to learn more about Woody Guthrie. Even though I had played some of his songs from the time I was a teenager, I just decided to dig in deeper. And the first thing I found out was that there wasn't much Woody Guthrie around. Like, his records were all out of print. You know, you'd be, if you could find a copy of a Bound for Glory, his bestselling novel, you were lucky 'cause those were out of print. But I did manage to find a copy, and I found a store up in Santa Monica that sold a lot of children's records that had the Songs to Grow On that were written by Woody and his wife for their kids. And so my kids were brought up on those songs in the cassette player in the car. And those were some of the first songs I learned. I also found a copy of a tape with Woody and Cisco Houston singing cowboy songs. So I started to incorporate some of the songs into my own set. And when I got this job with Community Ed, I developed that up further. So I made lyric sheets so I could really learn these songs, and the Woody Guthrie songs were the ones that really stuck out as the best songs to me. And so at one point, I thought, Well, I could actually put together a one-man show about Woody Guthrie, and maybe I could even get an endorsement or be sanctioned by the Woody Guthrie, Woody Guthrie's management, which he still had a manager even though he was dead--this guy, Harold Leventhal, I knew from the books that I had found--a couple of books--that he was the guy, who was kind of in charge of Woody Guthrie's estate at that point. And so I looked up his office. I found a number for his office in New York City, and I called his office, and Harold Leventhal answered the phone, And I explained to him that I was a songwriter in California and that I had learned a number of these Woody Guthrie songs and that I had been listening to the Library of Congress tapes, which were recorded by Alan Lomax. It's about four hours of Woody, similar to what we're doing here. Only Woody would tell his story and then play a song that he'd written that kind of went with it. And those tapes are in the Library of Congress, and I--that you can get them on cassette tapes. So I've been listening to those, the interviews and the songs, and I thought, Well, I could put together a real show. So I called Harold Leventhal and kind of broached the idea with him, and he completely just shut me down. He said, No, you can't do that. You can't even play any Woody Guthrie songs, he says, because, all those songs are protected, and they're being held for a production that we're doing about Woody Guthrie, and you cannot use them under any circumstances. Goodbye. Bang, you know. So I was like, Wow, you know, I was really like, taken aback. So I thought, Well, screw that, I'm gonna play these songs anyways. So I played them in, for my classes, I didn't develop up the show. I didn't go there. But I played these songs in my classes and I honed up these Woody Guthrie songs, so they were sounding really good. Ironically--and this would be a good stop point--many years later, when I was playing at the Woody Guthrie Festivals on a regular basis, when Nora Guthrie gave me the first Woody Guthrie song to write music to, it was a song called Dance a Little Longer. And we recorded it, and I was on my way home from the Woody Guthrie Festival in Oklahoma. I don't know which year it was, but it was the year after I had, it was probably around 2000. Yeah, 'cause that's when that first record came out that had that on it. So I was on my way home, and my cell phone rings, and it's a New York City number. But I decided to answer, and I answered it, and it was Harold Leventhal calling me up. Now he doesn't know I was the guy, who called him many years earlier, but now I'm the guy who finished this Woody Guthrie song, and he really liked it, So he called me up to tell me how much he liked it and to thank me profusely for helping to carry on Woody Guthrie's legacy. So the irony of that really hit me. And, of course, I never told him about the earlier connection. But that sort of closed the endorsement, finished the endorsement from Woody Guthrie Archives and Woody Guthrie Publications and that kind of thing. So where we're leaving off is I've just worked at, with the Community Ed, and I tried to do the Woody Guthrie thing. Harold shut me down. And now I'm about to get a job at the San Diego Wild Animal Park.

02:05:50FABBI: Okay. Thank you so much. As you have alluded to, this is session one--

02:05:56RAFAEL: Yes.

02:05:57FABBI: --of Joel's oral history, and we'll be back together for the next interview.

02:06:01RAFAEL: I look forward to it.