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Karen from Waycross says:

The Who Concert was on my 19th birthday. That day my buddy Steve Preston and others tried to get me to go down early to stand in line so we could get down to the floor. Back from college, I was already a punk so I didn't mind a little moshing, and had no desire to stand around in the cold, so I passed. Steve left, with his little sister, to meet her classmates Jackie Eckerle and Karen Morrison and get to the floor. I can only pray God hooked them up with a better show, as we never saw any of them again.

When I arrived shortly after the door-time, there was a mob and ambulances on the walkway around the entrance, so we walked around the building. An old guy working as a ticket-taker popped open one of the dozens of doors lining the north side of the building and let me and my friend in alone, no wait. We walked down to an empty floor, and waited for the concert to start. Soon other friends who had come down with Steve appeared - all of us wondering when he would pop up to join us. They got separated in the crush.

But the crush was the norm then, and no matter what anyone claims, encouraged by promoters, bands and venues. It meant the show mattered. Surviving the crush for Led Zeppelin or The Who was part of the experience being sold - avoiding it, or managing it was no mystery by 1979. It didn't require 20/20 hindsight to see where it led. Its also worth noting that the problem itself had nothing to do with festival seating and everything to do with gate procedures. Had they opened them all, on time, everyone would have come home. No one got hurt on the floor, and as I said, no one actually needed to stand in line for hours to get down there. In many respects the "official response" was an irrational over-reaction to symptoms, that carefully avoided the disease: The people running the venue were negligent and incompetent, unable to manage the crowds they attracted professionally. This isn't rocket science and never has been. Blaming festival seating was a damned lie, advanced by the guilty to dodge financial liability. Maybe it helps them sleep better to blame the kids, the crowd, or The Who for poor decisions made by cops and suits at the door, and years of negligence leading up to that day. The response was as dumb and senseless as the tragedy itself.

As to the concert itself, honestly it was a disappointment. Without Keith Moon, it wasn't really The Who at all. The band was clearly shaken, and played a pretty robotic, if a little long, set. In many respects that concert closed the door on Arena Rock for me. By the end of the show my respect for The Who was pretty well gone (the band touring without Moon and Entwhistle is a sick, sad joke, not The Who). For the next 20 years I'd listen to very little classic rock, and I've only been in the Coliseum once since. I was done that night.

As we left that night, through the broken front gates, the walkway was covered with shoes. An ambulance was still there, but no sign of what had happened. We heard over the radio on the way home. Even though we hadn't found Steve, it never occurred to me that he might be among the victims. He was a small, but tough kid when it came to big concerts. And he was smart enough to recognize and avoid danger, usually with a joke. I woke up the next morning to a call. Steve didn't make it home, and by morning his family had learned he'd been killed.

We don't really know how he died, but many assume it was protecting the younger girls... If one had fallen down or something, there was no way Steve would have left her there, much less allowed her to be trampled. As a concert vet, his younger sister was in his charge, and he was a protective big brother by nature. Still, the thought of the 3 of them being trampled together leaves me sick and dizzy. I should probably be thankful I wasn't there, or I may have joined them down there, since I surely couldn't stop the crush any more than Steve could. Many of us felt guilty that we weren't there to help.

Coincidentally I'd also met Peter Bowes, who was friends with one of my friends, but we were just acquaintances. The holidays were sad and painful that year, and for many thereafter. As milestones in my own life pass, I often think of the milestones missed for Steve, Karen and Jackie. May all 11 victims rest in peace.
Thursday, December 31, 2009

Steve from Cincinnati says:

That was a nice report, but the main thing I think should be emphasized more is that it was most definitely NOT a "stampede"

I was there.

We got there when the crowd was halfway from the door (singular, not plural since they only had one open eventually) back to the first flagpole.

An hour later is was back to the flagpole.

As time went on it just slowly got more compacted. I can not say what the people in the very back were doing, but the way it compacted inside the crowd was a slow and constant process. If you picture being at a grocery store with 50 people in line behind you. Then the person in front of you moves up a bit and you do the same and the person behind you does the same as do all 50 people. Then someone in the chain realizes they stepped too far forward....and there is nothing anyone can do. It is not the fault of anyone, but the line can't move. No one is stampeding, it is just closer. And that continued since every time the crowd would move people assumed (as we all had a right to) that doors were opening.

When people talk about the "waves" of people, if you go back and picture the grocery store analogy, just think if one of those people because they can't move their feet leans into the others, then it dominoes and turns into a wave.

A few people were being passed over the crowd to the back.

As I said, I can't speak for the people at the back, but in the center it wasn't pushing or anything else. It was NOT like those selfish immature morons that you see at a Walmart sale where they are running over people.

I got slowly separated from the guys I went with and the people that originally were close to us when we got there including 2 guys that were drifting off to my right. I watched them go off to the right and when I finally made it to the door (no "S" on the end of that word) there was a guy and a cop at the door, the guy was yelling "go around, there are other doors open", right then the two guys I was watching drift off to my right worked their way up on my left and said to him "no there aren't we just walked all the way around". They repeated that obviously hoping someone would go open up other doors.

I made it in and found one friend. He said he started to fall down out there and "this guy lifted me up" he was referencing a tall black guy next to him. I only mention he was black because I remember thinking at the time that it was great that in a moment of need people can show that color doesn't matter. We watched the concert. While it was surreal seeing all those shoes, once we were in, since we didn't know of the deaths, we just watched the concert and then went to go home. News crews outside the concert but it was the Who and we just thought it was as big event as we thought it was, so news crews weren't a surprise. We had all ridden down in one car and one friend and I decided to take the bus instead of riding home with them. He goes home, I go home, my poor Mom was freaking out and wanted to know why I hadn't called. It is then that I heard of the 11 people that had died.

It was and still is a very sad thing and while we can't change the past, we can try to make sure some of the truth is made public and the idea of a "stampede" is absurd and it's totally disrespectful of the 11 that died, those that were injured and the huge majority of those that were there.

While I did not know anyone that was killed down there, my friend that I rode home on the bus with has since passed and I just need to add that I miss you Rob.

Cherish every moment you have. Tell those you love that you love them.

Thursday, December 03, 2009

Jay from Tucker says:

Ted from says:

Preston from Dayton says:

Sam from Highland Heights says: