Two of my favorite characters I've ever worked with was the two old hippies that were part of some of the original crew of Rolling Stone Magazine that had come to NYC from San Fran. Their names were Patrick and Tim. Both guys were over six feet tall, Patrick kinda looking like Kris Kringle with long grey hair and Tim having a slightly more clean cut and super slicked back hair. Both men were extremely awesome and FUCKING HILARIOUS dudes. They were also WICKED scary when they got really angry.
I didn't really get to know Patrick too well since we didn't directly work together but I did bug Tim a lot whenever there was an error or some stupid shit that needed to be fixed. You have to keep in mind this was before digital when we were still working with film. We're talking old school paste up, NAPS and Press Match Proofs. Anyways, whenever I needed a period or word or whatever removed or added I would go to his enclave in the back room and have him scratch it out etc. That sort of shit would annoy him to no end so I ALWAYS made sure to provide him with lots of chips, cookies and brownies. Oh, I used to do all the ordering when we'd get catering which would give me the opportunity to stock up on certain 'necessities'. These necessitates came in very handy when you're dealing with a super large hippy with a monster case of the munchies. I mean, there would be times when I walked back into that room and I could feel the wall of weed smoke as I passed through doorway. Nevermind the pungent stench.
Tim also had this nasty habit of sneaking up on you. Not an easy thing for someone of his size to do. Though it was a blessing in disguise because what would happen is I'd be sitting there frantically working on something to make deadline, or bidding on some stupid shit on ebay, when all of a sudden this large hand with a Tupperware container full of fresh baked cookies at the end of it would suddenly be thrust in front of my monitor. It def wasn't one of those BOO! scary things but it ALWAYS threw me off whenever he's do that. The next great thing was turning my head around looking up to see this large 6' 4" greasy old hippy with the smiling look of an axe murderer on his face saying: "I just baked these this morning.. Oatmeal raisin with macadamia nuts.. I put a tab of acid in one of em'- but I don't know which! I always made it a point to take two.. Not just because they were un-fucking-believably good but also because I had a sneaking suspicion that the one day he wasn't joking, I'd get the dosed one..
While I didn't get to know Patrick too well, I did get to hear one of the occasional amazing stories from the days of yore. Like the one about how they would be so fucking late with the issues that they would actually drop the packages that were to be shipped to the plant OUT THE WINDOW to the courier on the street below. My favorite story Patrick ever told was the one about the man himself, Jann Wenner. Apparently, being the hippies they were and the fact that it was the 80's, they found themselves in the awkward position of being Jann's occasional drug connection. One day as they were toiling away Kent Brownridge, Jann's evil corporate twin bother (seriously imagine Mr. Burns) came in very angry and stated: "If the two of you sell any more drugs to Jann, YOU'RE FIRED! Patrick and Tim kinda looked at each other and were like: 'sssSHIT!' After Kent was satisfied that his threat was taken seriously he walked out. Then, not ten minutes later Jann walks in and says: If you guys stop selling me drugs- YOU'RE FIRED!! Then just like Kent before him he stormed out. Once again, Patrick and Tim looked at each other and were like: Oh mmaaaann, now what the fuck are we gonna do now?!
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