you think about it, we didn’t get any coverage on this until
1998. That was 27 years after we created the term. That’s a
So what were the Waldos doing when not hunting reefer
in Point Reyes? Most of the time, riding around in Capper’s
1966 Chevy Impala on “safaris” — impromptu escapades
that more often than not involved smoking a little grass and
doing something slightly insane.
“We went to all kinds of places in Marin,” Capper says.
“We’d go to the Golden Gate Bridge, get high, and jump in
the painters’ nets.” “We’d climb out on the girders,” Reddix
explains. “Underneath there was a net in case someone was
painting and they fell off. We’d go out there, get stoned, and
start jumping in those nets like they were trampolines.”
Other antics: driving to Hamilton Army Airfield in Novato
to sprint across the runway as planes were taking off; rac-
ing the planes in Capper’s Impala; surprising unsuspecting
elevator riders by stopping the lift bet ween floors and pulling
apart the doors. After reading in Rolling Stone about a labora-
tory working with holograms near Palo Alto, Capper decided
to visit it in the middle of the night. “I got fed up with a football
game, so I went down there. It was like one in the morning; I
pounded on the door and asked if I could see the holograms.
They said, ‘ Yeah! Come on in! We’d love to show you!’ ”
“Basically, we were a brotherhood of outlaw weed smok-
ers,” Reddix says. “ We’d challenge each other every week to
come up with a new, weird place to go.”
These days, 420 pops up in the Waldos’ lives in other
kinds of surprising ways. Last December, Reddix’s brother
Pat passed away after a battle with cancer, and beyond
family, longtime friend Phil Lesh was also there during
that difficult time.
“I was there, and Pat died at exactly 4: 20 p.m.,” Reddix says.
“It’s on his death certificate. What are the chances of that?” m
On the right: Waldo
Mark (front), Waldo
Larry (middle) and
Waldo Dave (back)
share a joint with a
non-Waldo (left) at
in San Rafael after
playing Frisbee golf.