Iron Butterfly

by Chris Jonnes

I flew to San Diego, California with Dad around 1968 or 1969. He was going on a business trip for 3M to test his scuba diving suit invention. He’d recently helped me get my junior scuba certification, and I was to accompany him on dives in San Diego Bay, where we would catch abalone and generally have a good time. This we did, except I got seasick in the boat and had to opt out of the dive at the very last minute.

On the return flight to the Twin Cities, four very boisterous, long-haired men in bell bottoms boarded the plane and sat in the two rows of seats directly behind us. Dad watched them come down the aisle with fascination. As the flight got under way their conversation got louder. They were having a great time, a virtual party. Dad began to fidget. He kept turning around to look at them. I could tell he was curious about them. I also thought he might be mad about the commotion and/or their appearance in general.

I figure Dad was about an 8 or 9 on the Gregarious Scale, compared to my -1. And so at ~11 years old I was very worried that he would make a scene on the plane, and I’d have to sit there for another 2 or 3 hours dealing with the aftermath. Sure enough, after he’d bounced around in his seat until he could no longer take it he finally leaned over to me and whispered, “I’ve got to talk to these hippies.” I was horrified.

So Dad turned around and struck up a conversation with these total strangers over the back of his seat. As it turned out, Dad was not at all upset with them, he was just curious. He ended up having a long and very cordial discussion. We learned that the four young men were the legendary rock group Iron Butterfly, on a concert tour of the U.S. They gave us concert tickets for an upcoming show in the Twin Cities and invited us backstage (we never went). The highlight, though, was when they opened up a carry-on case and handed me autographed copies of their two most recent albums, which I kept for many years.

Dad was generally non-judgmental about people, and could–and would–talk to anyone.