Sam Andrew: I remember that date very well, which could only mean that I was there in a professional capacity. I remember Gabor Szabo and the whole deal, so I am sure that we filled in. I know Big Brother was there.

Bill Thompson: Grace had had problems with her voice. She'd had three polyp operations. And she just couldn't sing. So we pulled out and they brought Big Brother in. The Airplane wouldn't have been afraid to play with Hendrix.

The other popular version of the story (most likely incorrect) goes like this: the Airplane, on that first night, saw what Hendrix was capable of doing to an audience and, although they did finish out the week, they switched the billing so that Hendrix could close the show. In his own book, Bill Graham Presents, the late promoter wrote: "He [Hendrix] opened and then Gabor Szabo and then the Airplane. That was the first night. Afterward, the Airplane asked him if they could open the show."

Marty Balin: He went on before us and it was impossible to follow that. So I said, "Look, let him go last. To hell with it." And thank God. It made for a much more balanced show.

Spencer Dryden: I was fucking amazed by Hendrix. And I guess if I was amazed, everyone else in the band was amazed. But there were certain people in the band that did not like to be challenged that much. They just didn't want to be blown off the stage by somebody else, didn't want to follow somebody else.

Paul Baratta, a cousin of Marty's girlfriend Janet Trice, had just gone to work for Graham two weeks earlier. Eventually, he would become the Fillmore's general manager.

Paul Baratta: I was relatively new to the scene and Graham was telling me what a big draw the Airplane was. We opened the doors at 8 o'clock and the joint filled up. I mean, it filled up before we ever got the music started. So we bring Hendrix on, he opens the show, Gabor Szabo does his thing very well, and then the Airplane comes on and does extremely well. And then Jimi went on again and after that set, about half the audience left, maybe even more. It was noticeably empty relative to the way it had been. And it became a realization that the people were there with that kind of enthusiasm for Hendrix, who they had never seen. It wasn't so much a slam at the Airplane, people were just flocking in to see Jimi. The same thing happened every night. But the Airplane did not bow out, they played all the shows.

And yet another (admittedly minority) assessment, that the Airplane stayed the whole week, closing the show as planned:

Jorma Kaukonen: I can not imagine that we would have dumped a top-billing spot, no matter what. Or dumped a gig. I find that really hard to believe.

In any event, the Airplane were sufficiently bowled over by Hendrix. They'd never witnessed anyone do such things to a guitar. He was the consummate rock and roll artist for the new era, psychedelia personified. A vision to behold and to hear, Hendrix had taken the old rule book and thrown it out the window. He'd married technology and technique in a visionary way, yet for all of the pyrotechnics and drama of his act, his music oozed soulfulness, sensuality and spirituality–there was nothing phony about it.

Hendrix took all of what had come before in rock and roll, took whatever state-of-the-art electronics were currently available to him as a musician, added plenty of good old showbiz dynamism, dressed it all up in vibrant colors, doused it in LSD and filtered it through his raw genius to fashion a whole new sound in rock music. As musicians who were themselves always exploring their options, attempting to push beyond the known boundaries, Jack and Jorma, especially, looked at what Hendrix was doing as confirmation of their own instinctual behavior: there were no limits.
At the end of the Fillmore week, to show their appreciation to San Francisco, the Experience played a free show in the Panhandle, Mitch Mitchell borrowing Spencer's drums for the occasion.

That week, Jack excitedly called his brothers Chick and Michael back in D.C. and told them to watch out for this futuristic vision with an Afro. When Hendrix did come to town, to play five nights at the Ambassador Theatre in August, the Casady brothers were stoked.

Little did Michael imagine that he'd wind up in jail with Jimi Hendrix–for jaywalking, of all things.

Michael Casady: It was Hendrix's first visit to Washington, D.C., his first tour after coming back from England. Chick and his girlfriend Mary owned a head shop, and I guess Hendrix walked in their shop or something–somehow Chick and Mary ran into him and I happened to be down there.

Chick Casady: I introduced myself as, "Hey, my little brother Jack has a rock and roll band out on the Coast. Hi, how ya doing?" So we got together, went out to my place, we took some acid. Then Michael got arrested for walking across the street with Hendrix.

Michael Casady: We met up on the street. Hendrix said, "Let's go get something to eat." We went walking down the street and looking the way he did, the cops zeroed right in on him. He was wild-looking.