“Get me some LSD”: Sherman Hemsley’s surreal trip with psychedelia legends Gong
You probably know Sherman Hemsley as George Jefferson, the cantankerous dry-cleaning mogul from The Jeffersons, endlessly movin’ on up and dressing down white people in prime time. But underneath the three-piece suit and sitcom punchlines, Hemsley harboured a secret that would make even the most jaded kosmische head do a double-take: the man was a dyed-in-the-polyester prog rock obsessive.
We’re not talking “dabbled in King Crimson” levels of fandom here—Sherman was deep in the weeds. His favourite bands? Gentle Giant, Gong, and Nektar. That’s right, the sitcom star who gave Archie Bunker a heart attack once did an interpretive dance to Gentle Giant’s ‘Proclamation’ on Dinah!, leaving host Dinah Shore somewhere between charmed and mortified. He even tried to get a funk-rock opera off the ground with Yes frontman Jon Anderson. The theme? The ‘spiritual qualities of the number 7’, of course. Naturally, it never got made.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—tops the story told by Gong’s late, great wizard-in-residence, Daevid Allen. Somewhere around 1978, as reported by Magnet, Allen starts getting these calls from some bloke in Hollywood claiming to be a massive Gong fan and talking about plastering Sunset Strip with Flying Teapot billboards. Allen, who was then living off-grid in Spain (probably in a stone hut full of incense and stolen church bells), had no idea who Sherman Hemsley even was.
Still, when Hemsley offered to fly Allen and his girlfriend out to LA—via Jamaica, because priorities—Allen figured, “Well, even if he’s barking mad, at least he’s footing the bill.” After a psychedelic honeymoon detour involving reggae and beachside bliss, they arrived in LA and were promptly whisked away in a stretch limo… to Hemsley’s house, which might’ve doubled as a Fear and Loathing deleted scene.
Inside: a sign reading ‘Don’t answer the door because it might be the man’, a full-blown LSD lab in the basement, and what Allen called “crack/freebase depots” on every floor. Upstairs? A room playing ‘Flying Teapot’ on loop, some spaced-out southern belles wandering around stark naked, and Hemsley gleefully presiding over the madness like a psychedelic Willy Wonka.
Allen and his girlfriend were given a mattress, an electric blanket, and not much else. The next morning, they were treated to an informal Jeffersons screening. As you do.
It all ended in a surreal Hollywood office where Hemsley’s PR people tried to work out the logistics for those elusive Flying Teapot billboards. Allen wasn’t having any of it—he clocked the vibes instantly, calling the suits “the cheesiest, most nasty people” he’d ever seen, which, coming from the man who helped invent space rock while dressed like a wizard, is really saying something.
Still, Allen had nothing but love for Hemsley himself. “Very sweet… very personable,” he recalled. It was the hangers-on who ruined the trip.
Let’s be clear: if Daevid Allen thinks you’re surrounded by weirdos, you are living in the centre of the freak vortex. This man once described a friend by saying, “He’s a perfect example of himself.” That’s either high praise or a zen koan, and either way, it’s cooler than anything a PR firm could dream up.
Below, the legendary Sherman Hemsley getting cosmic with Nektar’s ‘Show Me the Way’ on national television. Yes, really.