1965: Mr. Zimmerman, my friends and me in Santa Monica

Dylan blows out a melody on the harmonica.

Note: this is a post from 2011.

Bob Dylan recently turned 70. The singer was just 24 when I first saw him in concert on Dec. 19, 1965. He performed some solo acoustic songs followed by a raucous rock set at the Civic Auditorium in Santa Monica, Calif.  As one of my first live concerts, the show's high points remain etched in memory.

I've been an incurable ticket stub-saver forever, and still have the tiny blue paper remnant reminding me that the Dylan show was on a Sunday evening, and that  I bought two main floor seats in section F, row 21. The tickets were $2.75 each. The other one was for my date, Deanna Anderson, a fun-loving blonde.

We were double-dating with my buddy Steve Rink and his girlfriend -- all of us seniors at South High in Torrance. We drove from there to the show in Steve's lime-green '57 Chevy wagon.

I had started playing Dylan songs on guitar a couple of years earlier, switching from the piano after dropping classical and pop lessons in my sophomore year. Maybe that's why Mom wasn't a big Dylan fan back then.

Judging by the noisy full house at the Santa Monica Civic, though, lots of people loved his music. Some didn't, as Dylan was transitioning from a folk singer into a rock and roll performer. The folk purists felt Dylan left them behind . . .  sold out for the big bucks of the rock world. Seems absurd now; not then though.

You didn't need a weatherman to tell it was the "new" Dylan when he ambled from the darkened stage into the spotlight. The reed-thin Dylan had exchanged his folk singer work clothes for a high-collar mod zigzag-patterned suit and Beatle boots. However, for the opening set, it was just Bob, his trademark harmonica rack and acoustic guitar.

Mr. Tambourine Man. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright. Gates of Eden. She Belongs to Me. I loved those songs . . . and Dylan's crafty wordplay. Even today, all the words seem to pour out automatically when I sing the old Dylan songs.

After intermission, Dylan came out with a Fender Stratocaster guitar and a red-hot group of rock musicians, including guitarist Robbie Robertson and others who would soon become known as The Band. A bunch of hecklers were giving Dylan the business, and the audience howled in laughter when he told one particularly loud and annoying guy " there's a phone call for you in the lobby."

After that, he played Positively Fourth Street, Ballad of a Thin Man, Like a Rolling Stone and more.

I've seen Dylan shows over the years, but like so many other things, the first one was the best.

Days of sunshine and saltwater fishing

Redondo Pier in the early '60s and 1971; and a smiling
Ken Palke, top, and Mark Patton. Bottom right, Harbor Patrol
practices rescues beneath the pier.

I've done most of my fishing in lakes and streams, but it's the saltwater and my youth that come to mind today.

Back in the early 1960s, way before we were old enough to drive, buddy Mark Patton and I fished on the Redondo Beach Pier southwest of Los Angeles in the Santa Monica Bay. And sometimes, if we had a couple of extra bucks, we'd take the fishing boats City of Redondo or Voyager out several miles in the blue-gray ocean to fish aboard the California, a mammoth red-orange barge at anchor.

These day-long fishing expeditions were in the warm summer months and began early. With fishing poles slung over our shoulders, Mark and I walked the few miles to the pier from our parents' homes in south Torrance. We were eager to dip some line into the water . . . and maybe to escape adult supervision for a few hours.

We hitched a ride or two with Mark's mom Evelyn, but it's those walks I remember most . . . probably because we always had lots to talk about and much to see along the way.

Mark was the more adventurous one and miles ahead in angling skills, so he had lots to teach me. Regarding tackle and bait, for instance, you were required to have pole, line, sinkers, etc., set up one way for pier angling and a completely different way for barge fishing. Equipment manufacturers stayed happy, though, because you always needed more stuff to cram into your tackle box.

And, of course, different gear was required for fishing from rock jetties or at the surf line, and so forth. These sites required different etiquette, as well. On the pier, you deferred to the leathery old fishers who jealously guarded their spot; on the barge, you had more room to roam. No overhead casting, though.

Both of us were quite familiar with the decades-old Redondo Beach landmark and its surroundings. Mark worked at Cunningham's, a wonderful open air shrimp shack near the pier entrance, and I'd visited the place with my family dozens of times over the years. As a young kid, I marveled at the wide variety of fish that merchants displayed on ice from the daily catch. The different shapes, sizes, colors . . . and smells . . . were a wonder to me.

Back then the wooden pier was horseshoe shaped, with a long straight section jutting out at the south end. That's where most of the fishing action was: stairs jutting under the pier to catch the boats, live bait tank, windows for hot coffee and pop . . . and the place to see what the veteran anglers were catching and to peek at the bait they were using.

It was fun listening the old guys' fishing stories, some embellished by rich accents from their native countries of Portugal, Italy, Spain and elsewhere.

Mark and I usually fished for bass, bonito and halibut. I'd guess the water lapping at the pier pilings was 8-15 feet deep and the barge was anchored in much deeper water. Sometimes we'd see a shark slowly circling around the barge, probably drawn to the commotion and smell of bait in the water.

Many things about the pier and surrounding neighborhoods have changed over the last 50 years. Progress I guess. It's been remodeled a number of times, was nearly destroyed by fire in the late 1980s, and is now surrounded by restaurants, gift shops, apartments, condos and realigned streets.

But I'll bet there are still kids who are drawn to that pier, its fishing and adventures . . . just like those two young fellows back in the early 1960s.

The vessel City of Redondo leaves King Harbor
for a fishing trip in the mid-1970s. Photos clockwise
from top right: Ken Palke's big catfish from the Colorado
River; Mark Patton, John Palke and Tom Patton at
Lake Cachuma; Mark and his mom Evelyn Patton;
Jay Pilant and Ken Palke with another nice fish.