There is a scene in the movie "Big" with
Tom Hanks, where he is whipping John Heard's butt in a game of racquet
ball. That park, Vesuvio Playground, is on the corner of Spring and Thompson Streets, in the
Soho section of Manhattan. On either side of the fences, there are
benches and concrete tables with checkerboards embedded in the
tabletops. From 1964-1979, this was my Manhattan playground, the
alternate for when I wasn't in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. Basketball,
touch football, wiffle ball, and hockey were played within these fences,
while giant hero sandwiches were eaten on the concrete tables outside
of the fences. No ever played checkers or chess. Many nights were just
spent sitting around, listening to the radio and busting each other's
balls.
We had our small but tight group of four or five,
and shared the spaces with other small tight groups of four or five.
Occasionally, we'd mix and match, usually when we all got tickets to a
concert at The Garden or the Academy Of Music, which by 1978 was called
The Palladium. If you weren't from "the neighborhood," we knew it
immediately. If you were lucky, you could take a seat without incident.
So few were lucky, but that's not what this is about.
I
don't have all the tickets stubs handy, and any rock diary I tried to
write is long gone, but in 1978 I did see David Bowie, Kiss, Judas
Priest, ELO, and Todd Rundgren, for sure. I had not yet become a Bruce
Springsteen convert, though I did record the live broadcast from the
Capitol Theatre in Passaic, that was simulcast over WNEW-FM. I liked the
man, but I hadn't yet fallen in love.
One afternoon, we
were sitting at our table, waiting out the last of the sunlight before
we all went home for dinner. The table to our left was vacant, except for a
half-eaten pack of peanut butter cookies, that might still be there for
all I know. (My friends would have walked four miles to find another
bench before cleaning up someone else's food and walking it to the trash
25 feet away.) Suddenly, this tall, lanky guy, with a long pony tail
and beard, sat down at the cookie table. "Hey guys!" I had no idea who
this was, but Crazy Larry said, "Hey Steve," so it must have been okay.
Steve was excited. "Look what I got." He pulled out what looked like a
one inch stack of concert tickets. "10th row for Springsteen at the
Garden." There were groans and a few "He sucks!" I was intrigued. "Any
extras?" "Nope. All mine. I bought out the row. I don't want anyone to
my left or right."
This guy Steve was already on a
"neighborhood shit list" just for the pony tail. But now, he's
certifiable after claiming he bought out a whole row of tickets so he
could sit alone. "Are you out of your mind?" I don't recall details, but
Steve just started talking, raving about Bruce, the shows he had seen,
the intensity, the live versions of songs that put the studio version to
shame. One by one, our table emptied. Steve was oblivious.
"See ya guys! Oh hey, you forgot
your cookies."
"Oh you can finish them," Crazy Larry said, as he walked
away laughing. "Thanks Larry." Steve sat there, happy as a clam, eating
strange cookies with a stack of Bruce tickets in his pocket.
My
friends were brutal. It's been 40 years and I can still see Steve and
those peanut butter cookies and I am still kicking myself for not
stopping him from eating those cookies and for not sticking around and chatting him up for a pair of tickets. 40 years later and I am certain, that is what I wanted to do. But 40 years later, I'd still be hearing it from that group of boneheads if I had warned Steve about the cookies. So I just walked home. It's tough being a teenager. It was another six years before I got to see Bruce
Springsteen for the first time. By 1980, I gave up on just about every
one of those guys in Soho. I don't miss them at all. But I bet Steve and I would have gotten along swimmingly.
I want to thank David Handelman for sharing his memories and jogging mine with his fantastic piece on Bruce, which you must read HERE.
14 comments:
Great story, Sal!
Goddamn Sal, you need to write a book.
Randy
That's a great story. And I have that show from the Cap! It's outstanding!
Thanks for the very evocative story. And thanks for the Passaic Night concert. I loved those Bruce 70's concerts; unequaled energy and passion.
Many wonderful memories from that park but I don't recall Crazy Larry. Great story.
this is great. I think you may know this about me but I'm something of a Bruce Springsteen fan!
What a charming tale that is & told by a consummate storyteller. Reading it made my day for me. Loved it. Excellent stuff. Cheers!
still wondering about having the whole row to yourself. I can think of shows where that would be nice, but Bruce wouldn't be one of them. i'm not sure of the word, his music is more communal (?)
good subject for another day - musical regrets. shows and albums missed and passed up.
Great story, thanks for sharing. And thanks for the link as well.
My longtime love of Bruce started off slowly enough. I knew and loved Born to Run, but when a friend played me songs of off Darkness, my original reaction was "meh" (I know, crazy-stupid, right? I've since recovered). By the time of The River, though, I was hooked. I can remember being 14 years old and seeing my pleas to my parents to let me go see Bruce falling on deaf ears. By BIUSA, I was 17 and the day the tickets went onsale happened to be Senior Ditch Day at my high school. So my best friend and I ditched school and slept on the sidewalk in front of Flip Side Records, where we bought our first Bruce tickets the next morning.
Thirty-plus shows later, we're still going strong and on the recent River tour, got our first-ever experience in the pit. One of the greatest nights of my life.
Nice story! Btw, I've been walking by Vesuvio Playground every other week for thirty years on my way from my near City Hall to Porto Rico coffee bean shop on Bleeker.
Love your blog!
Oh my God, you’re not going to believe this. I knew Steve pretty well at the time. He was a nice bohemian/hippie guy who had just appeared and lived on Thompson St. We hung out sometimes and he was a good basketball player.
I knew of the whole row of Springsteen tickets he bought, of which I was offered one. I stupidly declined, because I was in the middle of getting people together to play music and form a band probably down The Pit, of which you were probably involved also. I sometimes regret it even until this day. But hey, I wound up seeing him a couple of times way after that. Some things you never forget. Good story
By the way Sal, is that the same park featured in The Pope of Greenwich Village?
The park in Pope was five blocks north on 6th ave and Houston.
Great story! My #1 rock 'n roll regret was not going to see Bruce & the E Street band at Uncle Al's Erlton Lounge in the Erlton bowling alley in Cherry Hill, NJ just after The Wild, etc. was released. I saw the ad in the paper and didn't believe they would actually be playing in a bowling alley bar. None of my friends were interested, so I passed on it. I read years later that only about 12 people were there. I'd bet it was a great show anyway. Oh well...
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