I was a 19 year old Junior at Lake Park West Campus. I returned to school to meet people in my new town of Roselle, IL. I had been relocated in 1993 after my first D.U.I. because my parents felt my City Living was out of control. Little did they know it was not the environment that me bad, it was ME! I went to school for a few months in the fall of 1994. I met this girl named Jaime Kalnicky, and she listened to The Grateful Dead, and I did also. Of course my musical tastes were all over the place; just like my life. One day I was walking home from school and Jaime drove by. She stopped and asked me if I needed a ride. I jumped in, and in the front seat was this long hair dude. He was full of energy and very friendly. This is the story of Mark Stoll!
Mark Stoll was the son of a bar owner in downtown Roselle. They lived upstairs from the bar on Irving Park Rd. just east of Roselle road. (the name escapes me). I began to hang out with Mark on a regular basis. His room was the place to be if you wanted to "Party". This is exactly what I wanted and did. Mark and I would compete with alcohol, beer bongs, whiskey, weird combinations of liquor, among other things. The people that stepped in and out of that room were people from all over the area. Mark knew a lot of people as I did. The walls of his room were painted with pictures, sayings, autographs, whatever people felt like doing as Artists. It was a wonderland for the those who stepped into that room. We used his windowsill in the winters to chill our beers. We played cards, listened to music, drank, got high, whatever we wanted to do we did it!
Mark was a solid guy though, he worked his ass off regularly. Unlike myself who made my money in not so legal ways. But we connected, and I spent a long time there. It wasn't until his mom sold the bar and moved up the street to a house by the Lachel's that things changed a bit. No more writing on the walls, and no more taking liquor from the downstairs bar, but his attitude was still the same. We would make bonfires in his backyard and get wasted while shooting off potatos out of his stud gun that he made. Now for an excerpt from The Great Adventures of Kalifornia Dave by Kenneth Kirschnick (not yet published), this is my story of Mark and I on tour...
It was back in 1995. My friends and I would get our tickets for The Grateful Dead by mail order. I had scored two tickets for Deer Creek in Indiana. I also had two tickets for both of the last two shows at Soldier Field. I made plans to leave my job for a couple of weeks, so I could jump on tour after the Michigan show at Auburn Hills. I remember my buddy Mark calling me up and asking me if I wanted to go ride some wave runners on the Fox River in Cary. I was totally up for that. We went to his buddy's house right on the river. We grabbed a couple bottles of Tequila and hit the waves.
We pounded shots in between riding the river. By the time the sunset we were hammered. I told Mark about the Deer Creek tickets I had, and he wanted to go. So, I offered him a ticket if he would drive. He agreed, and we headed home early enough to sleep off the drunken state we had found ourselves in.
The sun rose and Mark was there bright and early to pick me up. We hit the road and smoke some bowls along the way. We made good time to Indianapolis. When we arrived in Deer Creek, we tried to find some place where we could camp out. I only had tickets to the second show. We arrived on the first night, and that is when the mayhem took place. Some fans went over the wall while The Dead was playing "Fire on the Mountain." The wall crashed down, and the cops came. The police let their dogs loose on the crowd. They also used tear gas, and beat the mostly peaceful crowd. I admit; the people who crashed the wall, they suck. But the cops used a few troublemakers as their excuse to wreak havoc on an otherwise peaceful crowd. I felt like a war zone out there.
Mark and I split. We found a church parking lot to chill for the night. We got drunk and smoked up with the other people who were parked there for the night. All the camping grounds were filled up, so we just slept in our car.
In the morning, the radio announced that The Dead were canceling the second show. I was pissed. The car next to us, rolled down their window and we shared a doobie. I found out that they had a ticket to the next show in St. Louis. They didn't want to go, and they traded me the ticket for my ticket to the second show at Deer Creek. I guess they wanted it for a memoir. Mark was pissed because they didn't have two tickets. Mark said he still wanted to go to St. Louis, so we sat there and formulated our next move.
I had a check from my job that I could pick up if we went back to Chicago first. We had a day and a half until we had to be in St. Louis. So we headed back to Chicago. We were really sad and depressed. The car was silent except for the music. When we got home, I picked up my paycheck and cashed it. Mark and I decided to buy some Sammy Smith English Ale with the money. I bought a case of the stuff. It cost me a eighty dollars. Each bottle is like $3.00 a piece. But it is damn good ale. We figured we would sell them for $5 bucks a piece and use the money for the trip home. We headed out for St. Louis that same day.
We arrived in St. Louis very late that night. We had gotten a flyer for a place called The Farm, which was about 25 miles outside of St. Louis. It is where a lot of the heads stayed whenever The Dead was playing in St. Louis. It had started raining early in the evening, and by the time we arrived at The Farm it was pouring so bad it was hard to see the road. The Farm took our money at the front gate and we pulled around to find some place to park for the night. The Farm was gigantic, it had a lake and there were Deadheads everywhere. We parked by the lake and walked around in the rain for a while. About two hours before we got there, the rain had forced people to find cover on the balcony and under the balcony of the lodge that was in the center of the complex. All the weight from those on the balcony caused it to collapse on those below. I think about three people had broken necks. It was bad. There were people everywhere panhandling to collect some money because most Heads didn't have medical insurance. Mark and I couldn't believe what had been happening. I mean Deer Creek and the riots, and now St. Louis and the farm, what else could go wrong?
We felt bad for everyone and the weather was really bad. Instead of us trying to sell our beer, we ended up just drinking it and sharing it. By the time the sun rose, we had drank all the beer, and made no money. We hung out the morning of the show. Mark couldn't find a ticket for the show, and I needed to find a ride to St. Louis. I made up a sign on a piece of cardboard. As the sun was setting and those who were going to the show, started heading out, some dude stopped and picked me up. We had about a half hour to drive to St. Louis, so we bullshitted the whole way. He asked me if I was selling anything. I told him about the beer idea that went bad. So he offered me four hits of some L.S.D. for the show. I was happy to get some free acid for the show. I didn't hesitate to drop them in my mouth. He gave me six-grilled cheese for trading, or eating, or selling. I had sixth row for the St. Louis show, and I was pumped. The guy I was with headed out to sell some more acid before the show. I headed into the Pavilion. As I was going in I grabbed a flyer that The Dead wanted distributed to their fans. It was a memo that said The Dead was not going to play any more amphitheatres after this tour.
I went into the Pavilion and found my seat in the sixth row. It was one of the best seats I ever had. I practically could touch Jerry, he was that close. After about two songs, I was tripping hard. I couldn't concentrate on the band anymore because it was so crowded in the seating section. I made my way to lawn where there was room to breath. The acid turned out to be phenomenal. I sat there in the lawn and watched the stars. It was a clear night, and I saw so many shooting stars. I still don't know if they were real or if it was just the acid. The show ended and I felt great.
I was so happy I made it to St. Louis. I knew there were two more shows on the tour at Soldier Field. That was always my favorite place to see The Dead play. The parking lot was always rocking, and the atmosphere inside the stadium was even better. I never missed a Soldier Field show since I started touring with The Dead in '93. I had seen my first show there, and my last. I hitched a ride back to The Farm. I found Mark dancing around a fire listening to The Dead on someone's radio. He looked drunk and happy. He tried to explain to me about his night, but my mind was wandering because of the acid. I tried to explain to him the show, but I kept getting stuck on the shooting star story. We crashed out for the night, and in the morning we packed up. We heard that people were getting sick from swimming in the lake, so that was our cue to hit the road. We were hung over, stoned, and probably smelled like last month's laundry, but we were smiling.
We made it home to Chicago and had two days until the Soldier Field shows. We hooked up with our friends and passed the days away drinking. We made plans with Erik and some other people to take the Metra downtown. We all met up at the train station and headed out. The train was filled with Heads. It was sunny out, and I still can remember those two days in July like they were yesterday. Erik's little sister Courtney started talking to me. We ended up hanging out all day in the parking lot. She kept buying me beers and Nitrous balloons. We ended up separating from everyone. We hung out on the rocks next to Lake Michigan. We started making out and having so much fun, it still makes me smile thinking about it. We finally got really hot and jumped into the lake. We swam for a while, even though swimming is illegal off the rocks. We didn't care because we were in our own little world. It started getting late, so we walked around the parking lot looking for the rest of our friends. We didn't find them, but I did find someone who had some really good liquid L.S.D. I bought two drops and licked it off my palm. We headed into the stadium for the show. My seats were up in the stadium. Courtney had two tickets on the field. So she gave me one of hers, and I "miracled" someone on the way in. A "miracle" on The Dead lots was when a person gave a free ticket to someone who didn't have any money. I love that way of life.
We found our seats on the field. Erik was there with a few other people. We danced and tripped the night away to The Dead. We tried to stay together after the show, but didn't. Courtney and I were alone on the train ride home. We bumped into one of her girlfriends and got a ride home from her. I crashed in a tent behind Mark's house.
The next day was the same. I got wasted and spent the day with my friends back on the lot at Soldier Field. Our friend Bob was finally going to his first Dead show, so we were all happy to show him how great the experience was. Bob was always a selfish person. He liked to con, steal, and get high on the heavy stuff like coke. We figured if he could go to a Dead show, then maybe he would change to a more peaceful lifestyle. Our other friend Joe had his ticket. So we helped Bob find Joe all day. We never did. It turns out Joe sold Bob's ticket for a t-shirt. I still think Bob's life would have changed for the better if he had been able to go inside and see the show. The Dead changed my life and my way of thinking.
The show was great, and Courtney joined me again after the show. She ended up with me in the tent behind Mark's house that night. Everyone was looking for her, including her brother Erik. Erik was a really good friend of mine, but the attraction I had to his sister was too strong. Finally about three in the morning, our friend "Chief" stopped by the tent. He didn't know that Courtney was lying next to me naked. We bullshitted for a while, and then I told him I hadn't seen Courtney. He left, and Courtney got dressed and ran home. I fell asleep with a grin from ear to ear. I didn't know what the future held, but I was content with the present.
That was my best memory of Mark and I together. We drank a whole case of Sammy Smith's instead of selling them like we had planned. We saw a lot of chaos on that last tour. The last time I saw Mark I lied to him and the guys he was with. I was homeless and wandering around Union Station trying to stay warm as winter was coming to an end. I bumped into Mark, Paul, Erik, and someone else that I can't remember. I was strung out, beat up, broke down, and just plain miserable. I had my travel pack, and when I saw these guys, I put on my best face and told them I was leaving for Seattle. In my mind I had to make everyone think I was still travelling and living the Kalifornia Dave lifestyle. I was embarrassed to see these guys downtown for the St. Patrick's Day Parade and here I was at the bottom rung of life. It is a shame that my own pride made me think a friend like Mark would judge me, but hell maybe he did. That is my last memory of him. We were a good team before the heavy drugs hit the scene. After that, the huge group of party-ers began to break down into the groups that stayed with those who had what they wanted to do. Some did Coc, some did Heroin, some just drank (which those were the ones who recovered first in life). We had too much free-time and nobody to show us what we were doing was wrong. Mark moved to Portland, and he was in town that day when I saw him at Union Station, since then I tried to keep tabs on him from Stacy who is in Washington, but he was still being a lunatic with life at that point a few years ago.He leaves behind two little girls from what I have heard. He had a lot of bad breaks with life as I have, maybe he is in a better place. He was a Great Friend and an even Greater Person...Anyone who reads this would have liked Mark Stoll...
R.I.P. Mark "Party" Stoll, I guess you lived up to your nickname until the end!
To Clarify: I do NOT know if this death is drug related. I hear it was a heart attack. So let's believe it has nothing to do with drugs or alcohol...It makes it easier to think about the person than the circumstances...Peace!
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