Shakedown Street, a longstanding tradition among Deadheads, is equal parts renegade flea market, art fair, and cultural exchange. At its best, it feels like a psychedelic souk run by tie-dye visionaries. At its worst, well permits have become mandatory, and this year’s restriction to just 100 vendors caused grumbling among participants. But in San Francisco, you need a permit to do just about anything.
So on Saturday morning, I made my way to JFK Promenade with a crisp $100 bill and a mission: see what I could buy — and barter for — on Shakedown Street, the vending free-for-all that blooms around every Dead show.
The strip was lined with tie-dye T-shirts, drug rugs, pins, glass pipes, crystals, stickers, and other knickknacks. At least one stand sold Grateful Dead-themed AI art.
I knew I wanted unique items I couldn’t get anywhere else. (In brainstorming for this story with my editors, it was decided that buying illicit drugs would probably be one of the more boring and commonplace items to score on the Lot — though I did buy a beer for $5 and, yes, I will be submitting it on my expense report.)
The first stop was a stand I’ve seen on other Shakedowns in my past experiences seeing Dead & Company: a green tent adorned with designs of Bigfoot on clothing, bags, and stickers. As we spoke about the vendor’s art, I learned he was a well-known figure in the graffiti world who goes by the moniker Bigfoot.
A San Francisco Art Institute student in the early 1990s, Scott, who didn’t give his last name given his history with illegal graffiti, recalled his school days with Barry McGee and Jerry Garcia's daughter Trixie Garcia, and the rest of the Mission School.
“Ever since Jerry passed, I have just been focusing on my art hardcore,” he said with a long drawl, his eyes glazed over and looking into the distance.
His stories were worth the price alone. I dropped $20 for the blotter art and continued on with $80 in hand.
A few tents down, I encountered the most unique vendor of the day: a small stand called “Dude Inn,” squeezed between two massive setups. Run by Deadheads from Tokyo’s Kanagawa Prefecture, the shop offered T-shirts, stickers, and their signature item: a glow-in-the-dark Maneki Bear — an adorable, hand-painted vinyl riff on Japan’s lucky cat. Masayuki Shinha, who goes by Calmy, is the artist behind the piece.
The crew, dressed in Japanese denim and unique Deadhead gear, spoke little English, but their love for the Dead is undying and a testament to the reach of culture. The shop’s signature item was too good to pass up, so I gave up $100 for the bear, which my photographer promptly purchased from me, so I was still on track budget-wise.
As the crowd swelled and the fog thickened, I defected across the street to the more spontaneous side-market forming across the grass. There, I grabbed a $10 “Steal Your Face” pin from a vendor named Ian Oller, who had traveled from Illinois for the show. Unfortunately, Ian forgot the pinbacks.
“Yeah, I kind of fucked up,” he shrugged.
Luckily, a neighboring seller gifted me a couple. As I strolled down to continue my hunt, I grabbed a $5 Tecate from a crew of clowns that had traveled from Pittsburgh. One, Squeaky, said the trio had booked only the flight and had no place to stay, no tickets, and no mode of transportation.
Having done my business, the clowns offered me some “orange sunshine acid,” that they assured me “came from very good people.” Though my bosses had not said anything about being gifted drugs, I declined, gave them a handshake, wished them luck, and kept onward. Just then, a group of cops and park rangers came to clear out all non-permitted vendors, hauling massive cans of nitrous oxide they had confiscated.
My favorite moment came at a beeswax candle stand run by a woman and daughter from Santa Barbara. Adorned with dancing bears and a floral scent, their $30 yellow jasmine candle felt like the most wholesome purchase of the day. They’ve followed Dead & Company since the beginning of the Sphere residency, and this wasn’t their first rodeo.
Across the way were the pros: Online Ceramics, the Los Angeles clothing company that has taken Deadhead clothing to such heights that even John Mayer has sung their praises, showed up with a new line and was the star of the show, with a line that stretched down the street for the entire day. Unfortunately, their merch was out of my price range.
Toward the end of my walk, I passed two cops joking while carrying away a three-liter nitrous canister; soon after, rangers began clearing out the non-permitted stalls. But before I dipped into the venue, I stopped by a glassblower from Florida named Jeremy Why, who embeds sterling silver inside his pipes. His latest, for $40, features a 13-point lightning bolt. I bought it, then promptly gifted it to a nearby fan. After all, it’s all about the karma, man.