Welcome to the Trident Restaurant's web log!  This web log would like your help collecting photos, stories, and memories, from employees and patrons, that frequented this unique establishment/ experience. 

The Kingston Trio's Trident, at 558 Bridgeway in Sausalito, uniquely reflected what was going on in the late 60's and 70's in the Bay Area.  Janis Joplin had her own table when she came in.   In 1974, after their concert, the Rolling Stones held a private party thrown by Bill Graham.   The night the Trident closed, most of the employees had taken some sort of mind altering substance ,and the "kind" was freely indulged in throughout the evening ... without any incidents or trouble from the Sausalito Police! (That also attended the closing night)
What a trip!

Have the times changed?  Your thoughts, stories, photos, and memories are welcomed!

Email photos, stories, or videos to : Endorfunns@aol.com  or post your comments on the site, and enjoy the conversation!


TRIDENT T-SHIRT

Photo 2008 by Paul Chinn - San Francisco Chronicle

Found this accidently in "My Documents" not sure who the source is?  Mel Sharp?

Eric and Daisey  (the bike)


Eric Shugaar, contributing writer to www.TridentRestaurant.com after 2 and 1/2 years returns to Sausalito from a 5000+ mile ride from Washington D.C.

To reach Eric his temporary cell phone number is: 202-344-5143 which will be replaced in a week/month or two with   415-939-1334

     I don't have any photos or stories about famous folk, just boyhood memories about the Trident. My father, Joe Morin, worked there and often my mother, sister and I would visit there.  Memories include the best steak teriyaki ever, a meal i have tried to re-discover in the ensuing 40 years in vain.  Then there was the feel of walking across the timbered dock parking lot and the salty smell of the bay.  My sister and I would go crabbing from the barnacled pier, letting down our traps and later pulling on the rope to reveal some wonderful clawed monsters moving about in their little cages. Back indoors were more tasty smells, a seat at the bar (Shirley Temples for my sis, a Roy Rogers for me), a glimpse of Lee Marvin out on the deck, staff Christmas parties, playful banter with the usual outrageous bunch of restaurant staff and good views of the July 4th SF marina fireworks display (when it wasn't foggy).      Al Morin    ta.morin@virgin.net email

     On January 20th, 2008 John Stewart of the Kingston Trio passed away.  He was 68 years old. John, who wrote the Monkee's huge hit "Daydream Believer" (also featured in the animated film Shrek) became a well known figure in the 1960's folk music revival as a member of the Kingston Trio.



     John recorded 13 albums as a member of The Kingston Trio, but his biggest success was "Daydream Believer," a   song he wrote but didn't record.  It was a number 1 hit for the Monkees in 1967 and went to number 12 for Anne Murray in 1980. John died a day after suffering a massive stroke or brain aneuysm.
     The Kingston Trio web site announced that, "The world has lost one of its best men, but a man who lived well and made many people happy with his love, his wit, and his music!" (see link below)
     Stewart joined The Kingston Trio in 1961, three years after the band released its verison of an old folk song, "Tom Dooley," that went on to become a hit.  Stewart replaced the band's founder Dave Guard, who had left to pursue a new musical direction.   After the band disbanded in 1967, Stewart went on to an acclaimed solo career that included recording more than 40 albums.  John's wife Buffy and children were at his side when he died. Memorial services, at this time, have not been announced.
     Our thoughts and prayers go out to John's family and friends.  God bless!

Los Angeles Times John Stewart Article January 21, 2008

USA Today John Stewart

The Kingston Trio's Web Site John Stewart Tribute

Trident Deck



Is the 3rd person over in the top row from the left and the 4th person over on the bottom row the same person?


Rodger and Dagney
Lou and Belle

      In the summer of 1960, Louis Ganapoler commuted daily in his dull green 50's Pontiac from his home in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey over the George Washington Bridge to Greenwich Village, New York.  Here the scent of espresso coffee from Little Italy mingled with the scent of marijuana from Harlem.
      Lou managed the seminal Jazz nightclub called the "Village Vanguard" owned by Max Gordon.  At the Vanguard the greatest names played nightly to crowds of beatniks, mobsters, hustlers and intellectuals all gathered to hear and see the cutting edge of entertainment.  If you wanted to see Miles, Coltrane, Dizzy, Cannonball, the Weavers, Peter Paul and Mary, Woody Allen, Mort Sahl or Lenny Bruce, you went to the Vanguard.
      Lenny Bruce had just finished a week as a comedy headliner.  Each night after Lenny was paid, he would go down to Alphabet City to cop a fix.  Each night, after he'd gotten high, street thugs rolled Lenny for what was left of his pay.
      Lou said, "Lenny, why don't you put your bread in your sock before you split?"  When they tried to mug Lenny the next night they didn't get his pay, instead Lenny got smacked in the eye for pissing off the hoods.
      One night Lou and Lenny went to a Gypsy to get Lenny's fortune read.  After a few minutes of what seemed like bullshit to Lenny he got up to leave without a word, and his way was blocked by the Gypsy's two sons (Lenny was notoriously cheap, and the madam wanted her money).  After an awkward moment, Lenny leaned to Lou and whispered something.  Lou said to the Madam, "Lenny wants to know if they'll ever cure his deafness?" 
It was a punch line, but like everything else in Lenny's life it was a defense against his own worst impulses.

      The Kingston Trio was scheduled for a week long engagement at the Vanguard.  Frank Werber who was the manager, visionary and baby sitter of the Trio that had booked the gig for prime dough because at that point, the boys were a sensation. "Hang down your head Tom Dooley" had crossed over from college radio to mainstream, and had gone gold two years before.
      Lou liked the kids and their manager.  Back in 1957, they had come east from Palo Alto, California, played clubs like the Vanguard and the Hungry I, and started to make a name for themselves. They were broke then, and Lou knew it.  He reached into his pocket and gave them some cash and told them about a flop house they could crash in nearby.  They never forgot that goodwill.  After the 1960 gig had finished, Frank told Lou about a club they had bought near San Francisco as a tax write off.  That's how wealthy they had become. "We'd like you to come out and see the place.  Maybe you could recommend someone to manage it for us."
      Now Lou stood on Bridgeway Street, the fishing town of Sausalito.  From this vantage, he could see the outline of San Francisco through the drifting fog on the bay.  Sailboats tacked lazily to avoid the return of the fishing fleet.
      The "club" that the Trio owned sat over the water on creosote soaked pilings.  Named "The Dock", it was less a night club than a way-station for mariners wanting drinks and snacks.  Sawdust covered the floor to soak up the spilled drinks and vomit.  But Lou could see the potential, and he trusted Frank's vision.  After sizing it up, he met with the guys.  "So what do you think Lou?" Bob Shane asked.  "Could be a gold mine.  Lotta work though..."  "Can you recommend a manager?" Frank asked.  "Yeah,"Lou said, "Me."   There were no papers signed, no money discussed.  Hand-shakes all around was all.
      Lou had always liked the Coast ever since he and his young bride Belle had spent time there during the War.  Before Lou shipped out to Hawaii in 42, they had vowed that one day, they would come back.
      Lou flew back to the East Coast to give the Vanguard notice and told Belle to sell the house and car in Jersey, pack up all their stuff and get ready to move the three kids to California.   Lou carried some of the beat style of New York with him to Marin County.  Black suit, white shirt, skinny black tie and goatee was his signature look.  In the daytime he looked out of place, but against the setting sun, he cut a rakish figure.  He was 42 years old.
      Lou had always worked in restaurants.  His parents owned a deli and sitdown restaurant in the Bronx called "Janoff's".   Janoff's had an advertising slogan: "At Janoff's it's good.  You always get the very best food".  Lou had worked there throughout high school and stayed on even after while his older siblings had gone off to college.   Then the war came.  But Lou knew how to run a kitchen and a floor crew.  He knew how to manage people and most important, he could make money in a restaurant.  Not a lot of people could.
      As the carpenters cleaned up The Dock for it's reincarnation to The Trident, Lou hired a young Escoffier trained chef named Pierre Flaubert.  Pierre and Lou worked out the menu.  New York steak, escargo, beef ragout, fresh fish, soups and stews, salads and sides.  It was an agreement of style and substance.  Pierre was a multiple level black belt Karate master who was invited back to Japan each year by the pre-eminent Senseis to judge and award degrees to the creme-de-la-creme of black belts who competed.
      Most of the bus boys, and dishwashers that were hired for the opening of the Trident were Korean.  Guys with names like "Park" & "Sook".  They were all martial artist who could kick higher than their own heads.  They all knew Pierre could kick all their asses jointly, or severally.  There was an air of respect that flowed through the kitchen onto the floor of the Trident.  It came from top down.   And most of all they loved " Mr. Lou" (MistahRooh) what was always there to explain what, why, and how something had to be done.
      There were only waiters in the original Trident.   In those days, waiters could make a good living for themselves, and their families.   All the floor crew wore matching starched gold or turquoise single button coats with white shirts and ties.   This was a classy joint.  No more sawdust on the floor.  Lou began a practice that ensured that the place always ran smoothly.  He told the captain, Joe Morrell, and the waiters that tips were to be pooled and shared with the busboys and dishwashers.
      When the Trident was busy, as it was almost every lunch and dinner rush, the place ran like a beautiful, simple machine.  And, everyone looked forward to those little manilla (tip) envelopes at the end of the shift.
      Lou used his contacts and reputation from the Vanguard days to book the acts into the Trident.  Local talent was used as much as possible and there was plenty of it.   In those early days Vince Guaraldi, Jean Hoffman,  George Duke, Flip Nunez, Don Scaletta and Denny Zeitlin lived near enough to play on weekends.  Headliners included Jon Hendricks,   Sergio Mendez & Brazil 66, Bola Sete, Willie Bobo, and Bill Evans.
      Round about 1967 the Jazz scene was in decline.  Even Miles had begun to play what would become known as "Fusion" music.  Acid was still legal, and the Haight Ashbury district had become a Mecca to kids everywhere.  Frank once again saw it coming and made a decision.  They would re-invent not just the Trident, but innovate for restaurants and bars everywhere, for all time.

Jon Hendricks Trident Contract



The Origin of the Trident, Part One   by Martin Ganapolar    mganapoler@earthlink.net  

Thanks to Rob Lawson, Terry's brother, we have about 1 minute and 15 seconds of video posted on YouTube. Rob is a Mortgage Broker for West Coast Mortgage in Marin County.  This was first shot on 8mm, then transfered onto  tape, then digitalized for YouTube.  It's grainy, muted, but it's all we have at this time.  Much thanks to Rob and his family!  robert@westcoastmtg.com  Rob's email

So  I'm  too-da-ling  along  on  the  net  and  ran across this picture....must  admit it brought a little tear to my eye! Talk about an  era  gone  bye...in  picture 

      Early spring 1972.  Welcome to the dumping ground—the dark end of the kitchen—the place where high and mighty busboys sneer at you as they dump another bin full of dirty dishes on the bottom shelf.  But I had done this kind of thing before the Trident, before the Army, before this dishwasher heaven where you got to do it and watch the soft parade of beautiful young women as they came into the kitchen where Pierre would drill them with his disdainful devil eyes as though every one of them was bad, and just barely tolerable.  I looked at them somewhat differently.  After all, there I was backstage at a hippie playboy club, and how bad could that be?  And, oh those girls.  Wearing everything from the diaphonous to the skin tight. The impossible to miss hundred pound party girl Nancy MacAllister in those shiny pink pants—the impossible to forget Kathleen Delahanty in her well fitted, subtle but sexy I. Magnin gabardine slacks and crepe de chine tops—Noreen, the sweetest woman since Donna Reed in "It' a Wonderful Life", floating unflappably above it all, and Lynn, the cool, imperious cocktail waitress in her tight cowgirl jeans that none of us could help but notice after she walked by.  So many wonderful women.  But I was still just one of the trolls toiling in the shouting and clatter of the bright white cave.  The busboys got to follow these goddesses out into the rocking and rolling rounded wood and draping greenery of the big sun-splashed room, where the customers were merely the necessary extras who had to pay to watch the show. 

 

Frank Werber (1930 - 2007) for more information about the Memorial Services please go to: www.WerberMemorial.com
                  

On May 20, 2007 Ken Flagg wrote, "Hello, I found your web site while searching for Frank on Goggle and thought you would want to know that he passed away Saturday in Silver City, NM.  He suffered a stroke in February of 2004 and his health had been on the decline ever since.  He is survived by his children Chala, Bodhi, Aari, and Miska and two grandchildren.  I think it is wonderful that you are keeping his memory of the Trident alive, as that was one of his proudest accomplishments.

From the Kingston Trio web site:  "We are sorry to report that Frank Werber, the Kingston Trio's original manager, passed away at his New Mexico Ranch Saturday afternoon, May 19th.  His loss is deeply felt by us all.  Frank helped make the Kingston Trio what it was and is today, and was our dear friend for over 50 years.  Frank we will miss you greatly, and you will live on in our hearts and souls forever.MUSIC mogul. Trend-setting restaurateur. New Age guru. Back-to-the-land pioneer. Holocaust survivor. Small-town newspaper editor. Defendant in a star-studded Marin County drug trial.

ALEC PALAO on FRANK WERBER: http://www.acerecords.co.uk/content.php?page_id=1316

KING OF COOL'S WILD REIGN   By Paul Liberatore,     Marin Independent Journal's  June 15th  headline

Frank Werber, who died May 19 at 78, was all of those things. To hear the stories being told about him in the wake of his passing, he was a few others as well.

Werber made pop music history as the savvy manager of the Kingston Trio, turning three clean-cut college boys into superstars, the biggest singing group in the world in the early '60s, igniters of the folk music boom.

He was the charismatic creator of the Trident, a jazz club that he transformed into a legendary Sausalito fern bar and organic restaurant, a "Hooters for hippies," as one former employee describes it, where the braless waitresses wore see-through blouses, a young Robin Williams worked as a bus boy, the Rolling Stones celebrated Mick Jagger's birthday, Janis Joplin had a special table by an arched window overlooking the bay and Woody Allen shot a scene for his 1972 movie, "Play It Again, Sam."

The Trident closed in 1980. The building, at 558 Bridgeway, is now occupied by Horizons Restaurant.

"There was a time when Frank Werber was the center of what was going on,"

recalled comedian Tommy Smothers. "The girls were cool, the place was cool, the music was great. He was a guru, a Svengali kind of guy. He was a guy who could spin a story and make you laugh. With Frank, there was always something interesting going on."

Kentfield psychiatrist and jazz pianist Denny Zeitlin was one of the musicians Werber booked to play for the Trident's fashionably hip clientele.

"Frank's spirit pervaded the whole place," Zeitlin recalled. "I remember his energy, his sparkle, his openness to music. I thought the Trident was one of the all-time great jazz clubs. It was as special as any place I've ever played."

In a 1990 interview, Werber told the Independent Journal that those days were "like riding a hurricane."

"The Trident was definitely a manifestation of its time and a forerunner and trendsetter for multitudes of restaurants," he said. "Its effects are still being felt."

Werber's reign as the king of cool began to thaw in 1968 when he was busted for having hundreds of pounds of marijuana stashed in his lavish Marin County home - an ultra-modern mansion on Richardson Bay's Da Silva Island.

Reflecting the tenor of the times, his 1970 Marin Superior Court trial was a counterculture circus. Pot was so pervasive in those days that half of the first 10 prospective jurors admitted that they'd smoked it.

With a half-dozen of his comely, miniskirted girlfriends in the front row of the courtroom, the bearded defendant would often appear in court with his long hair pulled back in a pony tail, wearing leather pants and embroidered shirts with hippie beads around his neck.

His attorney, the combative celebrity lawyer Terrence "KO" Hallinan, argued, unsuccessfully as it would turn out, that his client used marijuana for spiritual purposes and therefore was protected by Constitutional guarantees of religious freedom.

Among the character witnesses were philosopher Alan Watts, prostitute union founder Margot St. James and Smothers.

"I testified that I'd had some religious experiences with Mr. Werber," the comedian remembered. "As I recall, we went out and smoked a joint between one of the sessions. That was the mindset at the time."

The jury, which included two admitted pot smokers, found Werber guilty of marijuana possession. He was fined $2,000 and sentenced to six months in jail. In San Francisco, a federal jury acquitted him of marijuana smuggling charges.

Even as a child, Werber's life was extraordinary. Born in Cologne, Germany, he arrived in the United States in 1941 with his father. The story goes that they escaped from a concentration camp after the elder Werber was spared execution - along with his son - because he was such a good cook that the Nazi commander didn't want to lose him.

In San Francisco, Werber developed a talent for show business, managing Enrico Banducci's famed North Beach nightclub, the hungry i.

During that time, he went to see an unknown collegiate singing group, the Kingston Trio, discovering them at a little club in Redwood City, the Crack Pot.

"Somebody had told him about us and he loved what he saw," remembered the Kingston Trio's Bob Shane, now retired and living in Phoenix. "We made up a contract with him on a paper napkin."

Shane credits Werber with coming up with the Trio's button-downed image and squeaky-clean persona.

"As much as we were, he was responsible for getting us started," he said. "He helped mold us, got us rehearsing on a regular basis, got us working on a show, helping us get our outfits together so that we'd be a visual act, too. We went to Stanford, so they had us billed as America's clean-cut college kids, but don't think any of us even knew one."

Werber may have been a wild flower child, but Nick Reynolds, another original member of the Kingston Trio, thanks him for keeping the group's phenomenal success in perspective, encouraging them to invest their fortune - in the Trident, in a number of homes and properties in Marin and San Francisco, including the Columbus Tower, now owned by Francis Ford Coppola.

"We were the biggest group in the world for four or five years," Reynolds said from his home on San Diego's Coronado Island. "We had five albums in the top 10 at one time. The main thing I can say about Frank is that he kept us safe. We stayed in San Francisco, we didn't move to L.A. We never had any mob scenes around us. We all kept our sanity. I know I did. He kept us together. He was like a second father to me."

By 1967, the Kingston Trio were on their way out, replaced on the pop charts by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and the rest of the British invasion.

In the early '70s, with his trial behind him, Werber moved to a little mining town, Silver City, in southeast New Mexico.

"When he first got here, he did a lot of hanging out in the hot springs, playing the pseudo cult leader guru, smoking a lot of weed, probably doing a lot of acid," Werber's daughter, Chala, 35, recalled.

"In typical Frank Werber fashion, the first thing he did was open a health food store, the Sunflower, so he could have a place to get good food. It was the first health food store around here."

After a year or two, Werber tired of town life and moved his family to a remote ranch two hours away, becoming a pioneer in the back-to-the-land movement.

"We had chickens and goats and horses and an organic garden that was at least an acre," Chala said. "We'd only go to town every month or two. We were pretty much self-sustaining. It was a great place to grow up as a kid."

Werber eventually moved back to town, rescuing a failing newspaper, the Silver City Enterprise, publishing it for a few years.

But his health had steadily been failing since he developed diabetes in his 50s, his daughter said, and he suffered the first of several strokes three-and-a-half years ago.

When he died of heart failure at home last month, he had his four children around him - Chala, Mishka, Aari, Bodhi - and a number of others who were close to him.

"We all gave him parting gifts of water from the spring, crystals, beads, Buddhas, cologne, good drink and good smoke," Chala said in an e-mail. "He had the ashes of his dog, Jet, at his feet. He was the center of everybody's universe. He was very much himself to the end."

A memorial service is planned for October.


http://www.kingstontrio.com/html/kt_news.htm

From SFGate.com  (San Francisco Chronicle web site) 
To view or sign an online Guest Book, click link below:

http://www.legacy.com/SFGate/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonId=88361221


Frank Nicholas Werber Born Cologne, Germany, March 27, 1929 Died Silver City, NM, May 19, 2007 Survived by his children, Chala, Bodhi, Aari, Mishka and Daniel; his grandchildren, Anahi and Mylena; and the children's mothers, Diane and Cathrine; as well as a myriad of other loves and friends who's world has become more empty with his passing. His life full to overflowing, Frank was among other things: a Holocaust survivor, refugee, Navy sharpshooter, student of architecture, hobo, beatnik, photographer, music and entertainment entrepreneur, night club owner, race car driver, marijuana advocate, hippy visionary, restaurateur, health food pioneer, single parent, conservationist, newspaper owner and hermetic guru. He passed away at his daughter's home in NM, and per his wishes was laid to rest the next day in a natural burial on his ranch in the Gila Wilderness. Sometimes credited with having started the folk music movement, and possibly best know as the manger/producer of the Kingston Trio, Werber was also the creator of the famous Trident Restaurant, a 1960s and '70s Bay Area hot spot which was long considered one of the top restaurants in the country. While many of the most famous and influential people of the era counted him as a friend, fame and fortune were never a most important measure of esteem to Frank. Tiring of the California "scene" he purchased a remote hot springs ranch in the mountains outside of Silver City, NM, in 1974 and slowly turned his energy inward toward the wilderness and his family. Frank will be greatly missed, but his light burned so brightly that those who truly knew him will always feel the glow. A memorial is being organized for this fall. For info, or to offer a donation please contact werbermemorial@yahoo.com
Published in the San Francisco Chronicle on 5/27/2007.

San Francisco Chronicle June 8, 2007

If anyone ever lived up to the image of the swinging 1960s hipster, Frank Nicholas Werber was the man.

The original manager of the Kingston Trio and a successful restaurant and business owner, he had been living it up for several years by the time the Summer of Love rolled around. The bearded entrepreneur wore beads and a tweed coat with a flower in the lapel. There were sports cars, miniskirted young ladies, a penthouse office in San Francisco, sailboat cruises in Mexico and pot.

Lots of pot.

Narcotics agents said six sea bags full of marijuana were delivered to his swanky home overlooking Richardson Bay in 1968, leading to his arrest, two sensational trials and a six-month jail sentence in Marin County.

The charismatic hippy music agent died May 19 of heart failure in Silver City, N.M., where he had lived on a ranch since 1974.

Born in Cologne, Germany, in 1929, Mr. Werber spent time in a Nazi concentration camp during the Holocaust.

He told his family that he and his father were at one point lined up to be shot by a Nazi firing squad when an officer ordered the elder Werber pulled from the line. As the story goes, the officer didn't want to lose the camp's best cook. Because his father wouldn't leave without him, Mr. Werber, too, was saved. The father and son later escaped, although details about that are vague.

Mr. Werber learned to cook from his dad, and from then on, good food played a major role in his life.

He immigrated to the United States. After high school, he joined the Navy and served as an aviation photographer, midshipman and sharpshooter. He later attended the American Academy of Art in Chicago and the University of Colorado.

Family members said Mr. Werber worked as a commercial artist, gold miner, cabdriver, horse rancher, ski-lift operator, construction worker and press photographer.

He eventually landed in San Francisco, where he met Enrico Banducci, the renowned North Beach impresario who operated the hungry i nightclub. Mr. Werber impressed Banducci and was hired as manager.

He stayed at the nightclub for four years and then happened upon a group of young Stanford singers at a bar and signed them to a management contract. The Kingston Trio soon blossomed into a national sensation, ushering in a folk music movement that lasted through the 1960s.

Mr. Werber turned out to be a masterful promoter. He created a multimillion-dollar recording studio and promotional development and publishing company called Kingston Trio Inc., which took up two floors in the Columbus Tower office building.

He then established Sausalito's famous Trident Restaurant, which started out as a jazz hot spot in the 1960s. Mr. Werber later turned it into a psychedelic health food restaurant with hanging plants and handmade candles where rock musicians hung out and ogled braless waitresses.

The now-defunct restaurant, on Bridgeway, set aside a table for Janis Joplin, and a young Robin Williams worked there as a busboy, according to Mr. Werber's daughter, Chala Werber.

"Everyone who was anyone hung out at the Trident," she said. "He interviewed all the waitresses, and they had to be super hot. They weren't expected to wear a bra."

When Native Americans occupied Alcatraz from 1969 to 1971, the pier outside the Trident was used to ferry supplies to island dwellers. In 1974, the Rolling Stones held a private party at the Trident thrown by Mr. Werber's good friend Bill Graham. It was, according to several revelers, a mind-altering experience.

Erudite and witty, Mr. Werber had a financial interest in the hit show "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown." He was active in numerous sports, including sailing and scuba diving, which he practiced often in the tropical waters off Puerto Vallarta.

He was, by all accounts, on top of the world in 1968 when federal agents raided his Marin County home and seized 258 pounds of Mexican pot they accused him of conspiring to transport.

Mr. Werber admitted smoking pot, but said he never trafficked in it. He argued that he was set up by dealers who were trying to save their own skin. A federal court jury eventually found him not guilty after a widely publicized trial. He was then tried by Marin County authorities for possession and cultivation of marijuana.

Mr. Werber was defended by Terence Hallinan, who would later become San Francisco's district attorney. The trial was a circus. Sheriff's officers dragged sea bags full of pot into the courtroom, and Hallinan talked about Mr. Werber's spiritual connection to pot rooted in his experiences during the Holocaust. Celebrities marched in and out of the courtroom as a fan club of young women in miniskirts rooted for Mr. Werber, who, participants said, smoked pot a few times during the breaks.

Mr. Werber loved to recount how Tommy Smothers of the Smothers Brothers testified that he had known the defendant for years and "before he started smoking pot, he was a real — hole."

"It was a pretty interesting trial," said Smothers, 70, a longtime friend who got a big laugh when he testified. "It was very stressful for him at the time, but he just moved on."

Mr. Werber retired at age 43 to an old adobe lodge on 160 acres of wilderness in New Mexico once used by Teddy Roosevelt on his hunting expeditions.

"Everything my dad ever did, he did completely," his daughter said. "His philosophy was there is nothing worth doing that isn't worth overdoing. There was never any half-assing in anything in his life."

Smothers said: "He was a little slick, a little slippery and wonderfully funny and entertaining. He was a guy you would go out of your way to visit."

Besides his daughter Chala, he is survived by another daughter, Mishka Werber, sons Bodhi Werber and Aari Werber, stepson Daniel Benavidez and two granddaughters, all of Silver City.

A memorial is planned for the fall.

Letter to the Editor in response to the above article:

San Francisco Chronicle
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
Saturday, June 16, 2007

Frank Werber

Editor — The June 8 obituary for Frank Werber seemed to damn with faint praise, suggesting that appreciation of a good doobie was the most significant achievement of this singular man's life. Nothing could be further from the truth. Werber was a pathfinder who wrought still-unacknowledged change within the entertainment industry in the late 1950s and '60s.

Werber took what were essentially three Peninsula frat boys — the Kingston Trio — and turned them into one of the biggest popular-music phenomena of the mid-20th century. However, it was in his supervision of the trio that Werber established guidelines on how a professional entertainer should be treated. He designed the basis of the "rider" that is used to this day whenever a performer appears, to guarantee an environment respectful of both artist and audience.

He took what had previously been the college lecture circuit and turned it into the college concert circuit. Most significant, Werber avoided the crass exploitation that was the overriding hallmark of artist representation in those days — i.e. the likes of Col. Tom Parker — preferring to take care of business in a classy, erudite manner.

No mention was made of his stewardship of We Five, whose Werber-produced 1965 smash hit, "You Were on My Mind," was the highest charting single to emerge from the Bay Area music scene until the rise of Creedence, almost five years later. Nor of the Trident Productions stable, an early and prescient breeding ground for many local rock stalwarts such as the Sons of Champlin.

Because, by late 1967, Werber had tired of wiping musicians' behinds and decided to dissolve his music interests, he is often written out of most histories of the 1960s San Francisco rock explosion. Frank had been out of the biz for many years by the time I got to know him, but he was still as smart and witty and hip — not "hippy" (sic) — as he had ever been. He deserves to be properly remembered for the pioneer he was.

ALEC PALAO
El Cerrito

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/06/16/EDGKOP3HFQ1.DTL

Alec also wrote:  http://www.acerecords.co.uk/content.php?page_id=1316

TridentRestaurant.com : How did it all begin?

Bob Shane: We bought the place in 1960. When we took over it was called the Yacht Dock. It was a jazz club. It was a very straight, conventional kind of place. It had a nice big dock so people could tie up and come in. I think we kept the name until around 1966 when we started changing it—painting the ceiling, putting in all the curved railings and woodwork—going for the hippie style. That was done by Frank with the architect, Roger Summers.

Frank closed the place, but we (the Trio) were on the road for most of that time so we didn't see it taking shape.

When did you guys start playing and how did Frank become your manager?

We started the Trio in '57, and we were playing at a place called The Cracked Pot in Redwood City. It was like a little beer garden—had a little stage, and Frank Werber came in and liked us. He drew up a contract for us right there on a paper napkin. So we started rehearsing with him, and played a couple of places around the Bay Area, and then he got us booked into the Purple Onion. It was a two week gig, and we ended up staying for sixteen weeks.

So how did you end up owning the Trident?

Well, when we started really making money in the '60's we decided we were going to have to have some things to invest in, so we bought the Columbus Towers in San Francisco, and then we bought some property in Mill Valley and San Rafael, and we leased the option for the Trident. Then in '76 I did a stock trade out—I traded my share of the property we owned including the Trident for the rights to the Kingston Trio name. From that point on everything got great for me but I'm not so sure it did for everybody else.

Tom Dooley was your biggest hit, but Scotch and Soda is perhaps the Trio's best and the best known. Tell us where that came from. The music has Dave Guard's name on it but I heard he didn't write write it. What's the story?

It was written back in the thirties by an anonomyous musician in Phoenix, and was given to the Seaver family. Tom Seaver, you know, the baseball pitcher, was about nine when Dave (Guard) was dating his older sister at Stanford. We were driving down to LA, and we had dinner with their parents, and afterwards they said, "We've got this great song for you guys." and they gave us the music. And then later, when we weren't paying attention he put his name on it. It caused a lot of bad feelings later on. But he actually did it in order to give the money to the Seaver family, and they used it to put Tom through college. Of course, he did pretty well for himself later on.

And there's a pretty funny story about Dave. We were on the road and he picked up this chick, and checked into a hotel as Mr and Mrs using his credit card, forgetting that his wife paid the bills. That marriage didn't last.

You have any favorite stories of the Trident?

Back in about 1970 Frank had this really scawny palm tree on the walkway to the front door, and I was coming in the place with Nick (Reynolds—founding member) and I looked at that pathetic tree, and said, "I gotta come out and take care of this." So we went in, had a drink, and I came back out, picked it up and threw it overboard into the bay.   Frank's pride and joy.  I went back in and the manager said to me, "You can't do that.  That belongs to Frank Werber."

I said, "Yes I can, because the Trident belongs to us."

He said, "And who are you?"

"The Kingston Trio."

(March 3, 2007)



Bob Shane's 1965 289 Cobra in the Trident parking lot
Bob, "It's my absolute favorite car that I've ever had!"

      On April 11th, 2007 an email was received from Norma Dale of San Rafael.  Norma wrote, " I was just a teenager in high school the first time I went to the Trident in Sausalito.  There were four of us and we found a handbill that said the Moby Grape and the Buffalo Springfield would be performing at the Trident on Sunday. When we got there we were the only customers!  This had to be early 1967.  The boys I went with were members of an East Bay/Hayward band ,and after a while the groups drummer got up and began messing with the drums.  Before the other musicians could pick up a guitar, members from Moby Grape and the Buffalo Springfield got up, and rather then let the boys touch their instruments said they would play together for us.  We ended up dancing to the "Buffalo Grape" and took away some great memories."
      April 12th, 2007 the Marin Independent Journal published an article called "Those were the days (and nights) where IJ readers shared their Marin nightclub memories through the decades.  IJ reporter Rick Polito reported that "Jazz and Folk shared the bill at the Sleeping Lady in Fairfax.  River City had all the bands right up the street.  In Sausalito, it was the Trident!"&nbs