Quite simply the greatest night I ever spent at Comiskey Park in my life.
I got off the EL at noon, clutching "Boogie Oogie Oogie" in my hand so I could get in for 98 cents. By some miracle, we managed to get upper deck box right next to the press booth on the first base side behind home plate.
Our music, our voice, our lifestyle, our ROCK was being threatened with extinction. If you didn't wear platform shoes, hang-glider leisure suits and 20 pounds of gold around your neck, you didn't exist. The Rolling Stones had sold out. PAUL McCARTNEY released "Goodnight Tonight". MY HERO WENT DISCO. Fahchrissakes, BLUE OYSTER CULT, my metal idols, had just released a disco album. (Remember "Mirrors"?) I always hated Rod Stewart, so f*** him anyway.
Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll was being steamrolled by social status, fashion, coke, greed, money, and vacuous, empty, passionless music and women. (Gee, sounds like Wrigley Field today, don't it?) We had been sitting silently, watching the greatest musical idols of our childhood sell out to Studio 57 and the spinny, glittery disco balls and lit dance floors. Suddenly, you had to look a certain way, adpot a certain specific fake persona, to be accepted and admitted to bars and nightclubs. Yeah, I was 17 at the time, but we still could go to Wisconsin in that era.
Steve Dahl was the voice of a downtrodden, yet proud generation. Rock was an endagered species. Keith Moon had just died. Our ideals, our souls, our passions were crumbling around us. I know so many people from that time that said listening to "Quadrophenia" basically saved their lives...
But I digress.
It simply had to happen. The day, the time, the era, the anger, the angst, the symbolism of that dumpster full of disco records on that night, the conditions were just too perfect...we were mad as hell and we weren't gonna take it anymore. The man with the greatest influence in Chicago culture at that time was STANDING UP FOR US!! He was the voice of our generation and he was followed onto that field.
It wasn't a riot. Nobody got hurt. People made love behind second base. It was Woodstock without music or mud. It was a gathering of harmless kids basically having a simultaneous orgasm that someone finally stood up for them, for their passions, for the sound they grew up with, for the lifeblood of their heart and soul, rock and roll.
I didn't go on the field that night...and I don't regret that...but I don't hold one damn bit of hostility for my fellow rockers who did.
I swore I'd never do this...but I'm so moved right now, I'm going to put one of those silly wee moving heads at the end here...LONG LOVE ROCK 'N' ROLL!!!