On October 1, 1970, Seattle prepared to say goodbye to one of its most famous sons, Jimi Hendrix. His funeral was a private, understated affair held at Dunlap Baptist Church. In contrast to the chaos and wild energy that followed Hendrix during his career, the service was intimate and somber. Family and close friends attended, while a crowd of respectful fans and media stood outside, separated by rope barriers.

Inside, emotions ran high as family friend Patronella Wright sang spirituals, setting a reverent tone. The poignant highlight was Freddie Maye Gautier’s reading of the lyrics from Hendrix’s song Angel—a touching tribute from the man whose soul seemed to pour into every note he played.

The service wasn’t just for the musician Jimi Hendrix, but for the man—James Marshall Hendrix. His pallbearers included a mix of childhood friends and professional acquaintances, like Herbert Price, Hendrix’s chauffeur during his last summer in Hawaii. These little-known details remind us that behind the wild stage presence was a person deeply rooted in the relationships he nurtured.

Tension and Tributes

While the funeral brought together a mix of people from different chapters of Hendrix’s life, one notable absence stood out: Eric Burdon, former Animals frontman and Hendrix’s close friend, refused to attend. Burdon believed that Seattle, a city Hendrix had often expressed ambivalence about, wasn’t the right place for his burial. This conflict underscored the complicated relationship Hendrix had with his hometown, which played a crucial role in shaping his early years but had also been the source of much personal pain.

On the flip side, Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding, his bandmates from the Jimi Hendrix Experience, were there, visibly grieving for their friend. Jazz legend Miles Davis also attended, paying tribute to the young guitarist who had revolutionized not just rock, but music as a whole. The presence of these key figures reflected Hendrix’s impact across different musical genres, bridging worlds from blues to psychedelia to jazz.

Music in Mourning

Though an initial idea for an all-star memorial concert was scrapped, music still found a way to honor Hendrix after the service. At the Food Circus in Seattle Center, Mitchell, Redding, Buddy Miles, Johnny Winter, and Miles Davis played in an impromptu jam session. It wasn’t Woodstock or Monterey Pop, but it was a heartfelt, raw tribute to a man who had lived and breathed music.

Though this gathering wasn’t meant for the public, a Seattle radio station accidentally broadcast its location, leading some fans to flock to the venue. Despite the intrusion, everyone remained respectful of the family’s wishes, turning what could have been chaos into a sincere homage.

A Complex Relationship with Seattle

Hendrix’s burial at Greenwood Memorial Park in Renton, near Seattle, held deep emotional significance, as it placed him close to his mother, Lucille Hendrix, who had died when he was a teenager. Despite Hendrix’s complicated feelings toward Seattle—where he faced a difficult childhood and early struggles in its music scene—the family chose this location to reunite him with his mother in death, giving his final resting place a deeply personal meaning.

Hendrix had left Seattle in search of success after feeling overlooked by the city’s music scene, and his rise to fame happened largely abroad. While he eventually returned to perform in Seattle, he never fully reconciled with the city, a fact reflected in Eric Burdon’s refusal to attend the funeral. Burdon believed Hendrix wouldn’t have wanted to be buried in a place that reminded him of his struggles.

In 2002, Hendrix’s remains were moved within Greenwood Memorial Park to a more elaborate granite memorial. This site has since become a pilgrimage destination for fans worldwide, paying tribute to Hendrix’s life and legacy. While the monument honors his impact, it also symbolizes the lasting connection to his family, despite his complex relationship with the city.

The Riffs of a Legacy

The day Hendrix was laid to rest, it became clear that his influence would continue to echo through the decades. Though his life was tragically cut short at 27, the imprint he left on music was profound. Mitch Mitchell summed it up well, reflecting, “All he ever wanted to do was play his guitar.”

This final tribute—a modest, intimate affair—was fitting for a man who, despite the larger-than-life persona, was deeply connected to his roots, his family, and his friends. As his casket was lowered into the ground, accompanied by a chorus of When the Saints Go Marching In, it became clear that while the man was gone, the spirit of his music was eternal.

In death, Hendrix came full circle, returning to Seattle—a place he had once left in search of greater things. His funeral was not just a moment of closure for his family and friends, but a reminder that legends, though laid to rest, never truly fade away.