In the 1970s and early 80s concerts at Rosenblatt Stadium were a big deal. Many times in my early teen years, my buddies and I rode our bikes or skateboards down to the stadium during concerts. We had no plans, or means, to get into the concerts but it was just fun to be a part of all the activity taking place around the stadium. We would hang out for a while on one of the street corners just watching people as they made their way to the stadium. Once everyone was inside the stadium we would make our way back home.
Summer concerts at Rosenblatt were especially good for people watching as a pubescent male who attended a Catholic grade school because that was about the only opportunity to get glimpses of busty, tanned gals in halter tops. We often dreamed about the day we would be able to make it into a concert and how we would dance around with all the girls.
The Beach Boys
Finally, my shot came one summer in the early 80s. The Beach Boys were coming to Rosenblatt and my brother, nine years my senior, offered to take me along with his friends. I would have been twelve or thirteen at the time. I remember many things about that first concert experience and few of them had to do with the music. In particular, this was my first exposure to people openly consuming large amounts of alcohol and it was my first time ever smelling marijuana. I remember thinking how all of it made people just a little bit crazy.
Here’s what I mean by crazy. While standing in line to use one of the portable jons that had been arranged in a row to the north of the third base line stands a hairy, buff shirtless guy walked by with a Beach Boys button pinned right into his chest! He seemed not to care, or even know, that a trickle of blood was matting the fur on his front side.
Moments later, just as my turn to relieve myself approached, a couple of guys came up from behind one of the portables and dumped it over with someone inside – and the door facing down! You would have thought the Tazmanian devil was trapped in that bivvy the way it rocked back and forth as the lad trapped inside tried to free himself. The rest of us stood around in stunned amazement with a blanket look of “what do we do?”
Certainly, nobody in our group dared to help raise the portable back to an upright position with all the profanity-laced threats coming from within. There was no telling what this guy was going to do once he got out. So we did the only logical thing and split.
For big concerts like this that weren’t affiliated with a baseball game, they would set the stage up on the warning track along the wall in right centerfield. Concert goers would spread blankets out all over the outfield turf and party it up for an hour or two in anticipation of the show starting.
I’m not sure who thinks to bring beach balls to Rosenblatt events, but it seems there were always plenty on hand even back in the 80s. Waiting for your turn to volley the rainbow colored sphere is a great way to keep your mind off the anticipation of the opening number.
As soon as the mic checks began, fans would jump up and begin crowding toward the stage. Thankfully, my brother and his friends had the good sense to hang toward the back of the crowd for the Beach Boys concert.
My next most memorable concert at Rosenblatt was in 1982. The Police were on tour after the release of their Ghost in the Machine album. While most of my friends were into bands like Lynrd Skynrd, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC and other hard rock groups, I had become quite a fan of the Police.
I talked one friend into going to the concert with me, then saved up money from my paper route to buy a ticket. As with the Beach Boys concert, I only have vivid memories of a couple elements of the night. One was the walk to the stadium with my buddy. It was so hot we were sweating like crazy when we got there.
I also remember being upset that we didn’t get there early enough to get anywhere near the stage. We endured the opening band and intermission, beach ball volleys, sound check, etc. before the Police came out.
Finally, the pinnacle moment of my summer had arrived. The Police – live and in person! That didn’t last long. About three songs into the set some joker tossed a bottle in the midst of the band and the Police were done. My final glimpse of the band was the Police zipping away in limos behind the right field wall.
I couldn’t believe what was happening right before my eyes. The moment I had been waiting for all summer vanished just like that. I still haven’t forgiven the bonehead who launched the bottle on stage.