26 Nov 2012
It was a hot July 1, 1966 and a 15-year-old teenager was stuck in summer school in Philadelphia. When the class was over, he ran to the subway station and then got on a bus to Atlantic City. It was going to be this teen’s first rock concert and he was going to see his favorite band, The Rolling Stones.
He got into the Marine Ballroom on the Steel Pier and waited impatiently as The Standells and McCoys performed. Finally, the Stones came on and the kid was mesmerized. It was everything that he expected and more. Mick, Keith, Charlie and Bill were there all right, but his e were on Brian, fascinated by his stage presence.
At the end of the show, he ran to the little drive on the side of the pier. After a few moments, a van came by, moving very slowly. As it neared the boy, a window opened and a hand rested itself on the door. It was Brian, wearing the blue suit with the red and white pinstripes. The teen ran to the window and grabbed Brian’s hand and started shaking it. He then decided he wanted to pull the buttons off of Brian’s jacket as a souvenir.
As he started pulling on the buttons, Brian stuck his head out and gave a nasty scowl and the boy jumped back, scared half to death. He went back in and waited for the second show and re-lived the experience all over again. On the bus ride home, he was the happiest boy alive. Thus began a lifestyle of band infatuation that has lasted 34 years with many contacts with the band.
By the way, the teenager was me!
This story first appeared in “Love You Live, Rolling Stones: Fanfare from the Common Fan.”
