I met Mr. Ives at a train station in Lamy, New Mexico, approx September 01, 1970, 5:30 p.m. He was picking up a guitar that came by freight. My butt was a blazing-brush-fire because I had hitched ride in a pickup truck and sat on a bulging burlap bag of New Mexico chiles.

He was gracious, sober, and looked like his publicity photos.

Sincerely,
Gargoyle