Category Archives: 1972

#187 – Saturday In The Park

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#187 – Saturday In The Park by Chicago

– I’m using an absence of total recall to put the pieces of this puzzle together. It’s not pretty since it’s a tale involving both youth and… well, the stupidity that comes with youth. Then again, when many of us look back at our teenage years, there’s a good chance a lot of growing up experiences fit those adjectives. In many ways, that’s what growing up is all about.

This trek into the past was stirred by the release date of Saturday In The Park. I couldn’t find a definitive date other than sometime in the month of July 1972. But the exact date doesn’t matter since boomers will remember songs were premiered on AM radio in advance of release date. Deejays would hype their insider reputations by announcing exclusive broadcasts of potential hit songs before they were available in stores. The excitement would build and listeners couldn’t wait to hit their local record bins to buy a song they had to have after days or even weeks of only being able to hear it on the radio.

Chicago 2

So regardless of the exact release date, it’s a good assumption that even before we were into the month of July that year, Saturday In The Park was in heavy rotation on our car radios. And though I don’t have a specific memory relating to this song, I recall when it was Chicago’s latest hit – which puts us into the summer of ’72. This was also my last summer as a teenager and making experiences that overwhelmingly fit the above dumb and dumber related adjectives.

The mental journey this song takes me on is a road trip. And based on that memory, it would take a 19-year old road warrior to pull off this type of adventure and not be worse for wear and tear. If I was to do this today… well, with age comes wisdom. Maybe I could, but I know enough to not even try.

The first memory exercise comes with placing dates and certain events. In looking at a calendar from 1972 and exactly where I was on specific days, I’m more than dumbfounded my good friend Gary and I even had time to put this adventure together. On Monday, July 3rd a bunch of us were at The Akron (Ohio) Rubber Bowl for an outdoor concert by Rod Stewart & Faces with Badfinger. Then eight days later on July 11th we were at the same stadium for The Rolling Stones Exile On Main Street Tour.

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In between The Faces and The Stones, we made a teenaged road warrior trip

Roughing It

Starting from the shores of Lake Erie west of Cleveland, we drove Gary’s hatchback car to visit our best pal Tim in Albany, New York. This is what we were calling a camping trip because Gary had purchased some type of tent contraption that fit over the back of his car when the hatchback was in the up position. The seats would fold down and the car would have enough room for our sleeping bags. It was easy, fast to set up and for teenagers, very cool.

Oh, did I forget about the stupidity part? That’s coming up…

In 1972 the legal drinking age was 18. In our home state of Ohio, that meant we could buy beer containing a lower 3.2% alcohol. But in New York you could buy anything, including high-potent booze that could make remembrances of stupidity impossible the next day.

Tim had moved with his family to Albany shortly after high school graduation. The three of us couldn’t get together as often, so the goal was to do a quick overnight visit before Gary and I made a sharp right on the highways and headed south to Virginia Beach and the Outer Banks of North Carolina. And since we were in New York State, we thought (stupidly) it was a good place to fill up our beer cooler with stock more potent than the 3.2% we were only allowed to buy in Ohio.

This is the stuff!

While roaming through a beverage store pretending we were smarter than we really were, Tim pointed out a high-potent local beer called Maximus Super. I just looked it up online and the alcohol content is 8.9%.

We were a long way from Ohio.

Tim told us about polishing off a six-pack before a Humble Pie concert earlier that summer. He claimed to have finished the last one just as the band came on stage, then remembers nothing else until waking up in the backseat of the car as his friends were dropping him off at home. He claimed it was impossible to drink that much of the brew without passing out. Using the full mental power of a 19-year old college student and frat boy, I accepted the challenge and grabbed a six-pack for our trip south.

Our first night in Virginia Beach was spent at a place call the Cherry Motel. I remember this detail because of a photo taken next to the pool with the sign in the background. We did tourist stuff by visiting Colonial Williamsburg and Roanoke Island. Our next stop was Nags Head, North Carolina where we set up the car as our tent in a camp ground surrounded by sand dunes.

This was also a very cool destination.

I still have total recall of buying a green t-shirt that said “Peabody’s” that I wore for years, until it finally just fell apart. We also hit a local seafood restaurant where a staff of very cute waitresses served us platters of crab legs (mostly free because I’m guessing they also considered Gary and I were cute) while we went through pitchers of low-potent draft beer.

During one of our sand dune camping days we hit the beach and made plans to hit the town for another night in another seafood restaurant. But before we set out on that adventure, we sat down at a picnic table near our car-tent to have a few beers out of the cooler. I decided that was a good time to take the Maximus Super challenge.

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This is what I remember specifically, because I’ve told this part of the story many times since. I wish I had told it more as a warning for other mentally embarrassed 19-year olds, but it’s mainly been as a confession of stupidity worthy of a few laughs at my expense.

After a couple hours of sunshine, laughs and current Top 40 hits from a portable AM radio – and I’m assuming Saturday In The Park was on the playlist – I finished the sixth and final can of this Maximus brew. I remember standing on the picnic table declaring our friend Tim was a “wimp” and…

The next thing I remember is the bright morning sunshine waking me up.

I was in my sleeping bag, but under the picnic table instead of in the back of our car-tent where Gary was sound asleep. I staggered over, woke him up and asked what the heck had happened. It turned out I was the wimp. After making my tabletop declaration, I was no more coherent than Tim had been during Humble Pie and quickly made my mental and physical exit into the sand under the table. Gary ditched me to go out for something to eat. When he returned he tossed me my sleeping bag and left me to sleep it off in the sand for my recovery process.

As for my learning process, I won’t confess to being an angel because of this incident. But I will admit the rest of this trip was dry as we headed up the coast to New York City for a quick visit with my cousin, one more overnight in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and back in time for a July 11th date with The Rolling Stones in Akron.

1970’s Maximus Offer

Saturday In The Park? I won’t use that song as a soundtrack to describe my road warrior episode since it was fast, furious and along with a brief lack of memory, anything but a calm and simple walk in the park. But on the morning of July 17th when it joined this Dream Song List in the hasn’t-been-heard-in-a-long-time subliminal category, it jump-started my thoughts back to that summer of ’72. The concerts, the friends and the road trip were great. And as for that one night in Nags Head… well, it’s probably best not to be remembered.

But wait. Did this youthful episode of stupidity end my relationship with Maximus Super? Yes – to be specific, it did. But not with the beer’s source.

A dozen years later I visited the Matt Brewing Company in Utica, New York where this brew is brewed. Utica was the hometown of my steady girlfriend of that moment and her pre-NYC job had been as a tour guide and model for the brewery. She gave me the tour and a few extra sample tastes of different beers.

With total recall I’m proud to say I passed on anything that might have had the word Maximus in the name or the alcohol potency to black out an entire Humble Pie concert or a night on a sand dune. So let’s just say… lesson learned (the hard way!).

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Thanks for reading – and keep rockin’!!

Here’s a video of Saturday In The Park by Chicago – beer not included

 

 

To purchase Chicago’s Greatest Hits with Saturday In The Park visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2017 – North Shore Publishing

 

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#188 – All The Young Dudes

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#188 – All The Young Dudes by Mott The Hoople

 – This song has carried more than a few heavy connotations since it was released in July 1972. It’s been called the anthem for glam rock and an anthem for gay rights. But according to the composer, David Bowie, it was neither of those. In later interviews he said All The Young Dudes carried the same meaning as the opening song on Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars. Titled Five Years, the character of Ziggy warned the earth only had five years left before it died.

In All The Young Dudes, the dudes “carried the news” predicting the planet’s final meltdown. In other words, it wasn’t written to be an uplifting song.

Bowie also claimed to have written it especially for Mott The Hoople who was on the verge of breaking up. He liked the band and thought a hit song would keep them together. But according to different versions of this story, the band’s recording and concert timelines during spring 1972, along with the existence of Bowie’s own version rumored to have been meant for his Ziggy Stardust album, the true origins of this song are still shrouded in mystery.

You can hear Bowie’s / Ziggy’s version on YouTube at this LINK.

As teenagers in 1972, we didn’t know any of that. It was simply a great song and worthy of turning up the volume whenever it came on the radio.

A Hoople fashion statement

With hindsight it’s possible to see how All The Young Dudes can be associated with glam rock and gay rights. The seeds for both were flowering in the 1960’s with rock stars already cross-dressing and baby boomers rejecting many of the strict morals handed down by older generations. If you’re not following me on this, check out the flower children from The Summer of Love that gradually morphed into the hippies of The Woodstock Generation.

In 1971 the Alice Cooper band hit the scene with I’m Eighteen. And when they made the scene in concerts and television appearances, their makeup and clothes made them look like poster boys for walk of shame partiers the morning after a wild night in a glam bar. A year later Bowie kicked the movement up notch releasing Ziggy Stardust and touring North America looking like… well, nothing we’d ever seen before.

It wasn’t long until a new wave of bands sported glitter makeup, silk flairs and platform shoes. And that wave included the dudes in Mott The Hoople.

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I definitely wasn’t wearing makeup in 1972, or anytime before, during or after the “glam period” of rock ‘n’ roll. So at least I have that going for me… ha! But the flairs on my trousers were pretty wide and would have picked up every speck of dust and glitter from dragging across floors if not for the high-heeled shoes a lot of us dudes were balancing on. Those long-gone fashion statements (thankfully) only exist now in old photos and memories, which is also how All The Young Dudes made it onto this Dream Song List.

Of course I own a copy on my current digital collection, but hadn’t included it on a recent playlist. So carry the news that this one has glammed its way into the subliminal category.

David Live

I’ve always loved the song, but by 1972 buying single (45 rpm vinyl) records had been replaced by album collections. And to reemphasize the constraints of being a college student on a budget during that era, Mott The Hoople lost out to LPs by Bowie, Alice Cooper and few others. So the first version of All The Young Dudes I owned was by the originator on his 1974 album, David Live.

So again, was it actually written for Mott The Hoople? Bowie seemed to like it an awful lot himself…

Though I don’t have any specific memories for this song, I have a slight one that involved the lead Hoople himself, Ian Hunter.

As mentioned in a few past Classic Rocker ramblings, during the mid 1980’s we’d occasionally hang out at a legendary NYC music club called Tramps. To add a little bit of specificity (an awkward, but fitting word) to this tale, our night of choice was usually a Monday. The weekend partiers were tucked away somewhere recovering from Fridays and Saturdays, so we never had to worry about an overcrowded scene. We’d have plenty of room at the bar or grab a table in the back to watch the night’s jam session.

The Monday night resident band – a loosely knit group of blues and rock musicians – was called The Bullies. One of my best pals was the semi-regular piano man and the main reason why Tramps became our semi-regular destination.

One Monday afternoon he called and said Ian Hunter was planning to come in and jam for a few songs. Since that would be a definite celebrity moment for any rock fan, our core group met up and headed for Tramps.

Ian Live

The band stomped out a few classic twelve bar blues and three chord rock ‘n’ roll classics and when they took a break, Ian Hunter walked into the room. And though he probably stopped wearing silk flairs and platform shoes a decade before, there was no mistaking who he was. But instead of plugging in a guitar, he sat down at the piano, which meant my best pal was relegated to sitting at the table with us during the next session.

I remember giving him a few digs about Hunter not wanting to jam with a commoner, but it didn’t faze him at all. We thought it was cool to hear some classic rock and blues from a great group of musicians that happened to feature Ian Hunter, which was the main reason we hung out on Monday nights while the real commoners were still recovering from weekend cover charges and drink minimums.

I don’t remember having a specific conversation with Hunter after they finished the set. My pal may have talked with him about keyboards, but that would have been it. But that’s the beauty of NYC. On a Monday off-night he was just another talented musician hanging out in a local music club with a group of music fans.

Except in the back of my mind I’m sure I was replaying the Mott The Hoople version of All The Young Dudes.

Comment? Please use the form below and as always… Keep Rockin’!!

Here’s a video with Ian Hunter and Mott The Hoople doing a glam lip sync of All The Young Dudes.

To purchase The Essential Mott The Hoople with All The Young Dudes visit Amazon

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2017 – North Shore Publishing

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Then visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com