Should Have Been a Rock Star - The first concert

The First Concert

It took nearly an act of god to make it to my first concert. Bands came through Tulsa sometimes, but getting there was something else. I finally talked my parents into letting me see Grand Funk railroad in the winter of 72-73. They were to play at the Tulsa Assembly Center. If I remember correctly, the tickets were a whopping $5. LPs cost a little less than that, and the shows weren’t much more expensive. Not like today… concerts have astronomical costs. The amount I paid to sit in nosebleed seats to hear Paul McCartney, or the Who in recent years. Definitely more than the CD costs.
It seems like iert was the Eagles who really started the high priced ticket tours. In one of their returns… I think it was the “Hell Freezes Over” tour; the prices skyrocketed, never to return to a price mere mortals can afford. If you are a regular old fan, forget getting front row seats or being able to afford to see lots of bands. That day is gone.
The plan to see Grand Funk was fairly complicated. I, along with my cousin, would take the bus from Sapulpa to Tulsa. It was only a 20-minute ride, but my Mom was unavailable for a ride with all my younger sibs at home, and Norma was without a ride as well. We would arrive in down town Tulsa and walk the 4 or 5 blocks to the Concert venue. This was kind of a big deal. We grew up in little town U.S.A. Tulsa was the BIG city to us. Kiefer’s whopping population of under a thousand people made this city a daunting metropolis.
We would see the show, and then following it, would walk 2 blocks to the Tulsa post office, which is where my Dad worked the 3 –11 shift. His car would be open and we would wait there until his shift ended.
So, several bug events happened the same day. I rode a bus that was not the local school bus route, was independent in the big city and would finally see my first concert of a real live rock band!
When we arrived at the concert hall, I was in awe. Everywhere around me kids rushed to and fro wearing bell bottoms, concert T shirts, guys with long hair and gorgeous girls that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. There, I felt like a beacon to nerddom. I was clean cut with the beginning of ear lobe length sideburns. Kiefer high school had a very strict hair and dress code. No boys could wear hair that reached their collar nor sideburns beneath the ear lobe. The fact that I also wore practical Woody Allen type glasses made me feel like an accountant at a Happening!
It would be a few years till my hair had its way and grew to should length proportions and my facial hair grew in to never leave. In fact, the last time in my 52 years that I shaved my upper lip was on the day of my high school graduation. The college years of wild hair I am sure was something my father and mother quietly tolerated while wishing I would come back around. My Older brother keith even offered me steaks if I would cut my hair!
We found our seats and prepared for the show. I was hyped. I was excited. Ad, when the lights finally went down, my heart rushed with the roar of the crowd. The Opening act, Billy Preston, danced and played for about 45 minutes. I wasn’t his biggest fan but was willing to tolerate him because he had played keyboards on the Betales’ “let It Be” LP. That gave him some credence in my book. We were introduced to the never-ending setup between shows. The lights went up, the Frisbees flew overhead. The beach balls appeared from nowhere to float across the bustling crowd. It was like a magical event! If Grand Funk could match the experience of being in the crowd, I was in for a real treat.
Finally, after innumerable sound checks, the lights dimmed once again. The crowd roared in anticipation. People stood, so I stood too in order to glimpse the dark stage. From dozens of points around the darkness, orange lights flickered as if camp fires were being lit, and the sweet smell of cannabis wafted around the arena. It was the first time I had even smelled pot.
A light flickered on stage, for a brief second it blazed across the seats. Then again. Then again, with the intervals between flashes becoming shorter and shorter. Then as the lights were pounding out at a rapid pace, a wailing sound like a trains horn sang out but it wasn’t just a train’s blast, it was repeating “Grand Funk, Grand Funk” over and over! Suddenly the stage exploded in lights and there stood one of the golden gods of rock guitar, Mark Farner, his power chord echoing across the dark arena. He was shirtless, a band around his bicep, and his long straight hair rocked back and forth to the rhythm of his playing.
As he moved around the stage, reflections of light shoot from his guitar around the hall. At one point, the light shone on my cousin and she screamed “Mark Farner’s Guitar Shined on me!”
“Closer To Home’, “Inside Looking Out”, “heartbreaker”, “Loneliness”, and “rock and Roll Soul” shook the foundations of the assembly hall. My heart beta with every chord of those songs, and ached with the misery of “man Mistreater.” I hated for the long musical solos to end and dreaded the end of every song as it meant the end of the concert grew nearer.
Finally, as the lights rose and the crowd reluctantly began to leave their seats, we sat, exhausted by the experience. The shuffling exit of hundreds from the hall, and the shock of late night winter air as we exited was a sad ad happy moment at the same time. Sad because it had ended, yet, happy because of the experience. I knew that I wanted more of this. It would be one year tillI got to see another concert. That show would also be Grand Funk on a return to Tulsa, and Wet Willie would be their opening act. These shows would be the first of many to follow, from New wave bands of the 80’s, to Nugent and Blue Oyster Cult, from outdoor festivals to seeing Eric Clapton wail on Layla. I still love that live music.

We waited in Dad’s car at the post office. When Dad made his way to the car, he asked us, “How was the concert?”
“It was fine.” We said.

It was great, I thought.