Short, strange trip of Garcia's life August 13, 1995 - San Diego Union Tribune by George Varga Jerry Garcia did not survive, as he sang in "Touch of Grey," the Grateful Dead's only Top 10 hit in a career that lasted some 30 years. The end of his career has inspired more misty-eyed tributes and emotional outpourings from more devoted fans than any baby-boom-generation rock icon since John Lennon was shot to death 15 years ago. But Garcia, a portly musician who had white hair, a gray beard and a long history of serious health problems, did get by far longer than many observers expected before his death early Wednesday, from an apparent heart attack, at a Marin County drug rehab center. The legendary guitarist and singer checked in there only a short while after he checked out of the Betty Ford Clinic in Rancho Mirage, which he reportedly entered to kick a recurring heroin problem. On Wednesday, he checked out for good. "It's a stunner, but it's something that everyone's been prepped for for a decade," Wavy Gravy, himself a counterculture figure of some note, told the Marin Independent Journal on Wednesday. No doubt, Garcia's music will live on, especially considering the thousands of live tapes made at Grateful Dead concerts over the decades with the band's blessing. And the Dead's freewheeling improvisational approach and all-inclusive stew of rock, blues, country, jazz and folk have been adopted by such rising young groups as Blues Traveler, the Dave Matthews Band and, in particular, Phish, which performs Sept. 28 at Embarcadero Marina Park South. But whether the Dead itself can continue without its lead guitarist and co-singer, who -- with Bob Weir -- was also one of the band's two principal songwriters, remains to be seen. Also remaining to be seen is whether the Dead's peace-and-love ethos from the 1960s can survive without its Buddha-like leader, whose earthy, unassuming charisma helped the band attract millions of fans of all ages and socioeconomic backgrounds. A symbol and focal point for Deadheads across the land, Garcia was a bigger-than-life figure who earned a devotion unrivaled by almost any of his contemporaries. He was a link with the sex, drugs and psychedelic rock 'n' roll lifestyle of the 1960s in general, and in particular with the egalitarian, hippie-fueled counterculture that sprang to life in San Francisco, where the Dead was formed in 1965. Garcia's well-documented quest for new vistas of artistic expression and raised consciousness often was stymied by his debilitating use of drugs, which began with pot, mushrooms and LSD and went on to cocaine and heroin. And, just as the Grateful Dead alternately embodied the best and worst in American music, with moments of magical inspiration giving way to long, self-indulgent jams, so did Garcia represent contradictory elements of an American lifestyle that made him a hero to some and an object of derision to others. An inadvertent mentor and guru to Deadheads, he neither accepted nor rejected the mantle of leadership bestowed on him by legions of fans, who regarded him as a friend and teacher even if they never had met him. That's because his music with the Grateful Dead spoke to them with a visceral, almost mythological power. His guitar-playing -- crisp, fluid and sweetly lyrical at its best, disjointed and meandering at its worst -- could take a stadium full of fans to almost orgasmic heights. So could inspired readings of such Dead classics as "Friend of the Devil," "Black Muddy River," "Casey Jones," "Box of Rain," "Touch of Grey," "Dark Star," "Truckin' " and "Uncle John's Band," songs the band made into an indelible part of American pop culture. Through its music and mythology, the Dead represented a vital connection to a bygone era when nonconformity, chemical-enhanced reality and the rejection of materialism reigned. This greatly romanticized anti-establishment image ignores the reality that the Dead was one of the biggest moneymakers in rock, despite consistently low album sales. Last year, the band earned $52.4 million from ticket sales and millions more from T-shirts, posters and assorted Dead-related merchandise. In 1993, the band's concert earnings of $44.5 million made it that year's highest-grossing rock band. In the first seven months of 1995, the band's concert earnings were more than $30 million. Dead fans have spent an estimated $225 million on concert tickets to see the band since 1990. Garcia himself oversaw a small but lucrative empire that included Jerry Garcia neckties, artwork and -- due out soon -- scarves. He was not the first rock star to cash in on his popularity with nonmusical pursuits, but he was the only counterculture hero who was able to do so without tarnishing his rebel image. By all accounts, Garcia was a warm, gentle, sensitive man with a passion for music, painting, literature and film. His only destructive tendencies were self-inflicted, and his continuing use of drugs, poor diet and heavy smoking led to predictions of his death for more than a decade. Now, Captain Trips -- as the acid-championing Garcia was nicknamed nearly 30 years ago -- is gone forever, the latest casualty of a rock lifestyle that has suffered far too many premature losses in far too short a time span. Alas, he was not built to last, to invoke the title of one of the Dead's albums. But had his love for music not been overpowered by his recurring pattern of self-destruction, Garcia might have been able to keep on truckin', at concerts and on records, for years to come.