I just seen this picture posted on the other site. I think this was right after Cobain killed himself. I heard he wanted to meet with him about how this would affect the American youth. Anyone know if thats right.


http://www.flickr.com/photos/88835119@N00/414657814/

I remember when they were meeting him, but I'm not so sure that was why he wanted to meet them.

In that photo, I'm 99% sure Ed is pulling some cigars out of his pocket to give the prez.

"So putting my hands in my pockets like this...does that make me cool? Eh??"

Neato photo.

Wow, EV was a young pup back then.

i donty know why im commenting on this shit but....


he looks damn near the same as he does now, except then he looks rail thinand unhealthy.

tough times all around.

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Bill's workin' it but it ain't workin'

Maybe he needs to start name dropping. What do you think?

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Is that in the so called Oval Office?

Great photo.

Yeah, that's the Oval Office. They're standing in front of the desk with the famous windows behind it, and the photo looks like it was shot with the photographer standing behind the desk.

Mark Arm from Mudhoney wrote a really funny article about this day. "Who are these Mudhonies everyone is talking about?" or something.

I remember that! Yeah. Wow. So much time has passed.\

The photo is awesome and if you click on all sizes, it's huge. Gotta thank you ever shared this one.

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They played Virginia the night before so they were in teh neighborhood...

I found said article. It's quite funny.

http://www.mudhoney.net/press/1994/mudvsusa.htm

Grand Royal Magazine

Fall '94

The Executive Branch of the United States of America
vs.
Mudhoney

by Mark Arm

On the 9th of April, 1994, following their triumphant performance at the Patriot Center in Fairfax, Virginia (which Chelsea Clinton could not attend because she had ballet lessons), the members of the popular music group Pearl Jam were invited to the White House to meet the then-President of the United States, Bill Clinton. Mudhoney (a less popular Seattle "grunge" act who were touring with Pearl Jam at the time) were not invited. Nevertheless, as firm believers in "coattail riding," the members of Mudhoney went along anyway. This brazen act of near trespass prompted President Clinton to ask Pearl Jam's singer, Eddie Vedder, "Now, who are these Mudhonies, and are they popular with the MTV?" What follows is an account of the two bands' visit to the White House by Mark Arm, the then-vocalist of Mudhoney. (And just so you know, in term of dramatis personae, Matt is Mudhoney's bassist, Dan is their drummer and Steve the guitarist).

We were supposed to meet Pearl Jam at their hotel at 10:00 a.m. Realizing we didn't have much time, I ran down to Matt and Dan's room for some wake'n'bake, so to speak. On my way out the door I could have sworn I heard Steve mutter, "Fuckin' stoners! I hated 'em in high school and I hate 'em now." After that, we hooked up with the guys in "P.J." (as we call them) - all except Dave, their apolitical drummer, and Eddie, who had spent the night at Ian Mackaye's house. Then we all piled into a van for the hungover hell ride to the White House.

Unfortunately, every time I tried to catch some Zs during the brief van ride, the driver would announce something idiotic over the brutally loud P.A. "OVER HERE ON YOUR RIGHT IS WHAT YOU CALL A SOUNDWALL YA SEE, THERE'S HOUSES OVER THERE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT GREAT BIG WALL YA CAN'T SEE 'EM BUT THEY'RE THERE. AND THAT WALL, THE SOUNDWALL, KEEPS THE FREEWAY NOISE FROM GITTIN' OVER THERE TO THEM HOUSES WHERE PEOPLE LIVE, SO THOSE FOLKS DON'T HEAR ALL THIS FREEWAY NOISE. THAT'S WHY THEY CALL IT A SOUNDWALL." I shit you not.

Anyway, Matt brought a joint with him, hoping to smoke it before we got there. The driver told some story about how we should make sure none of us had any pocket knives of anything cos he'd heard of a lady who went on a White House tour and the Secret Service had found a three inch-nail file on her, so they threw her in jail overnight. As the driver was saying this, I watched the paranoia slowly overcome Matt. He started digging through his pockets. Out came a pocket knife, which he hid in the seat pocket in front of him. And out came the joint, which he ate.

We soon arrived at the White House gate and sat there for 10 minutes while Eric (P.J.'s tour manager) tried to convince the soundwall-obsessed van driver to go through the gate. He kept saying, "No sir, I can't do that, I don't have the authority." Eric kept saying, "Yes you do! I have clear and distinct instructions to go through the goddamn gate!!" Eventually Eric went out to get some sort of authority figure, and he finally came back with a Secret Service Agent who escorted us through.

We got out of the van and marvelled at the fact that we were indeed just outside the White House. We were met there by Eddie and Kelly (P.J.'s manager). Everything seemed real cool, and looked as though we'd finally get to meet Bill, Hillary, and maybe even Chelsea! I was particularly excited because among other things, I'd like to think I've a pretty good head for foreign policy. After all, I took more than a few Poly Sci courses in college and I've travelled the world and elsewhere in a musical combo. And since music is the universal language, I've seen quite a few people of curious backgrounds come together in the name of rock'n'roll. Naturally, I figured I could tell Mr. Clinton a thing or two that he might find useful.

We soon separated into two groups. Suddenly the Pearl Jam folks were escorted away in one direction by a couple of plump White House staffers, and just as suddenly a tall guy in a black trench coat came up to us and said, "Hi, my name's Henry. You're with me now." We nodded and followed the six- foot-plus Ubermensch as he led us away in the other direction. I looked back over at the P.J. group, and Stone gave us this same look that I've seen people give to doomed pups so often at the dog pound, the look that says, "I'd help you if I could. Really, I would."

I think Henry could feel our discomfort. He tried to put us at ease by telling us, "You know, I didn't always look like this. When I was in college, I had purple hair and listened to Depeche Mode." We relaxed immediately, realizing we were in the hands of a dork. A trained killer, yes, but a dork nonetheless.

Actually Henry turned out to be pretty nice. He took us on a special tour behind the ropes. So while thousands of proles filed slowly by, between the ropes, gawking at us on the other side, we were treated to a most deluxe and intimate tour. We flitted from room to room without any kind of restriction of boundary.

Suddenly I noticed a small group of grunge kids eyeing us. This went on for a while as we absorbed the interior of our nation's most grand mansion. Finally, though, one grunge kid asked Steve for his autograph. Steve obliged and called out to the rest of us, "Hey, guys, come on over! Some of our fans want our autographs." Since none of us are dicks, we went over there to give our John Hancocks to a few fans. Within seconds, the room was overcome with the sound of rustling papers and opening purses. Soon we were in the midst of an autograph frenzy. Little old ladies shoved pens and paper in our faces, screaming, "ME NEXT! SIGN MINE! WHO ARE YOU?!" We freaked.

Sensing distress, Henry told us to follow him, and things died down a bit once we got into the next room. Then a small group of fraternity brothers and sisters started going, "Hey, look, it's Pearl Jam! Hey, Pearl Jam, give us your autograph!!"

Dan looked at them and said, "You don't want our autograph."

"Yeah we do, c'mon, give us your autograph," they insisted. "What, are you too good for us or somethin'?"

"No, it's just... We're not Pearl Jam," we tried to explain.

"Yeah, right!"

"No, seriously! We're Mudhoney - we're the opening act."

"Very funny!" they laughed. "Ha ha ha! That's a good one! Hey, Pearl Jam, get back here!"

Henry turned a corner, we followed, and the next room we entered was empty. Relief. Once my heart slowed down, my eyes refocused and the ringing in my ears subsided, I could hear Henry saying, "Sure is beautiful, isn't it? This is where they keep the Presidential crystal and china." Meanwhile, Matt and Dan (the married guys) were hunched over the Grover Cleveland section. Eventually, Matt turned to Dan and said, "Lovely, isn't it?" Dan said "Uh-huh," and Steve stood in the corner, arms folded, muttering, "It's not very punk."

Henry glared at Steve. "You want punk?" he asked. Next thing you know, Henry is telling us about this guy who walked up to him at the White House gate, said "I'm Jesus Christ," stabbed Himself in the stomach and began twisting the knife around in His guts, apparently without pain. Henry was forced to wrestle Christ to the ground while another agent grabbed the knife from Him. Jesus unfortunately died later at an area hospital.

Another time some dude in a ninja suit came stalking across the White House lawn, swinging his numbchucks. Henry told him to stop but he kept coming. "Twenty feet more and we'll have to shoot!" Henry yelled. The guy kept coming. "If you don't stop now, you're a dead man!" Henry reminded him. Still he kept coming. Henry had no choice but to tell a guard to fire. A sharpshooter did just that and split the ninja's skull.

"Wow, that is punk!" said Steve, fully impressed. "Hey, man, check out Ulysses S. Grant's crystal whiskey flask," chimed in Dan.

We followed Henry further into the bowels of the White House, and among other things, we say the Press Room, complete with a handful of bored news types waiting for some kind of announcement.

Then we went into the Situation Room. This is where the staff meets with the President whenever a "Situation" occurs. Inside is a long wooden table and a bunch of cushy chairs. Further into the room, around a corner, is another, smaller room, where three guys sit with headsets monitoring televisions and computers. There are always three guys in there, 24 hours a day. And if something screwy happens, they alert the President. Henry told us that civilians never get to see the Situation Room and that we are extremely lucky. I bet he says that to every girl he brings here, but I have to admit's it's kinda cool - even if I was expecting something more along the lines of the War Room in Dr. Strangelove.

Then Henry took us into another, final room, were we hooked up with the Pearl Jam contingent. The had just met with President Clinton (Chelsea was again at her ballet lesson) and were all sporting Presidential booty. There was some left over, and desperate for mementos, we descended on the pile of goodies. There were Presidential M&Ms (all green), Presidential shot glasses and Presidential post-drink Pep-O-Mint LifeSavers. The Pearl Jam guys had gotten the last of the Presidential ribbed Trojans, I guess.

All in all, though, it was a good visit. I must admit I was a bit disappointed that we didn't get to meet President Clinton. I think I could have given him some good advice concerning that Whitewater Development Deal scandal that's been nagging him. After all, some of you might recall that I too was caught red-handed in a similar real-estate scandal back in the mid-'80s. Remember that whole Green River Development Deal that rocked the entire Pacific Northwest? That was me. But heck, a few years pass and most folks can't remember it at all. And I'm still making money off of it! So Bill, if you're reading this and want some more free advice, give your new pals Pearl Jam a call. They know how to get a hold of me.

Great article. I 'd a couple times at that.