(this is lengthy, but I want to be thorough! concert photos coming soon to
the Doobfan website)
-----------------------------------
Chicago, May 18th, 2001
Doobs to play a benefit for the Sacred Heart Schools of Chicago. Location: a
beautiful, huge (huge!) tent capable of holding 1,500, located at the Finkl
Steel Company in Chicagoıs Southport neighborhood. Weather is clear and
cool; an absolutely gorgeous evening.
The evening begins at 6:30, with dinner and drinks for 1,000 invited guests.
I didnıt pay the higher ticket price for dinner, opting for the donation fee
that gets me in at 8:30 for the silent and live auctions & concert.
I pull in and give my car to the valet service thatıs been set up. Itıs 12
bucks, but hey, itıs a benefit for a good cause (and the Doobs are all about
good causes.) Walking in to the registration area, I proceed to the
Pre-registration table (thereıs also a Walk-In table). Kathy Fivelson from
Sacred Heart is there. I spoke to her a few weeks earlier. We talk, sheıs
very cool, and letıs me in early. The first area I walk through is full of
the silent auction items, autographed guitars and other memorabilia. I shoot
past and walk in to the main area of the tent, where 1,000 people are seated
having dinner. Heading up to check out the stage, I grab a beer, which is
free. I grab two. In front of the stage are the live auction items, six
guitars, signed by the Broıs, U2, Crosby Stills and Nash, Carlos Santana,
The Eagles, and Bob Dylan. The only other people hanging out at the stage
are two ladies who were at the Green Bay concert the night before. Right. A
couple hard-core fans to hang withand they were great!
Instrument check. Guy checks his keys. Keith checks his set, the girls wave
and he comes over with backstage passes, which heıd promised to them the
night before. Jealously encompasses my body. ³Keith, Iıd like to get some
pictures after the show for the Doobfan website.² ³No problem², he says.
³Come on back afterwards². Yes Sir. (I always follow orders.)
Live auction begins around 8:45, and the guitars fetch between $3,000 and
$6,000 apiece. Backstage, the corporate meet-and-greet is taking place with
the band, lined up for photos with a moving herd of guests. I can see Pat
and Big Mike, shaking hands and smiling for the camera. At the microphone,
the school officials and organizers are doling out thank you's. And now,
itıs show time.
The chairperson of the event introduces the Broıs. The Harleys rev up, nice
and loud. Tommy begins playing as he walks on to the stage. Then the drums.
Pat is last on stage as Rockinı Down The Highway kicks out of the P.A.
Still, there are only a handful of us up at the stage, until we start
clapping and jumping around. Halfway into the song, the sea of people at the
stage is as deep as I could manage to see. And theyıre taking our lead. In a
matter of about 30 seconds, the place is jumping. No warm up. The crowd went
from ³Park² to fifth gear by the time the guitar solo kicked in. And it
never stopped. ³Rockin² was followed by ³Jesus², which had me laughing to
myself. (Good song for a Catholic school charity event!) ³Dangerous² is a
song that the Broıs had kicked off with the last few times Iıd seen them.
Tonight, it was further down the set list, but it was by far the best
version Iıd ever heard. The acoustic and slide breaks were extended and
KICKED BUTT. Tommy in particular was having fun during that, singing silly
melodies that only we along the front of the stage could hear. And, of
course, Johnıs slide needs no words.
Guy was featured as heıs been done in recent shows, with a chord-based tonal
solo on ³Donıt Start Me Talking². Fabulous. Not a lot of fast, fancy
finger work here, and Guy proves on this song that less is definitely more.
(Hey Guy, how about a keyboard clinic at convention for those of who play
the 88ıs? And Iım serious!)
I look around and wonder if I should snap a few photos. No one else is
taking pictures except for the two official photographers who are standing
next to me with their film and digital rigs. Screw it. Pat and John are in
front of my nose, alone on stage, playing their acoustics. I whip out my PhD
camera (Push Here Dummy), and take two pictures. I am immediately scolded
and threatened by the photographer next to me, and actually feel badly for
possibly blinding Pat and John who bore the brunt of the electronic assault
I wielded. I pocket the camera.
By this time, the girls and I have our clap-and-sway routine down pat.
Moving in rhythm with the guitar players and Mr. Russoıs choreographed moves
at center stage, the house is coming down and my voice is almost gone. And
weıre about halfway through the set list. Can I survive this? Are you
kidding? Tommy solos wildly in front of us, Pat takes over and jumps onto a
table in front of the stage and solos to the crowd in front of him. Weıve
seen this before over the years. Give the Broıs a f---ing great crowd and
youıll get your moneyıs worth. And they were clearly enjoying the hell out
of it. This, my fellow Fan Club members, is but the appetizer to the main
course at the HOB in Hollywierd next month.
They finish with Long Train, and the two encore songs, China Grove and LTTM.
Trademark signature bow. Picks and sticks tossed into the crowd. And Keith
comes over to us and personally hands each of the girls a pair of his
signature sticks. I picked up my beer along with my composure and head
behind the black velvet curtain with the girls. Backstage, Skylark is
chatting with some personal friends and informs us that the rest of the
Broıs are having a wash-up and changing into dryer clothes. I talk with
Skylark and grab a photo with him. He goes back to his friends. Keith
emerges first and chats with the girls and me. I grab a pic with him, too.
The set is coming down, the trailers are loading up, and a lame DJ is
entertaining whatıs left of the dwindling crowd. The band is now in a
secluded area of the tent accessible only by a glass door thatıs guarded by
two black suit security guards. Keith tells us that they never eat dinner
before a showmakes them ³sluggish². So theyıre in the room feasting. Tommy
comes out in about 15 minutes, hanging by the door with a bag over his
shoulder and is clearly looking for someone. We mosey over and have a brief
chat and get some pictures. The girls talk to him about tonightıs crowd,
comparing these venues to staged shows like the sound staged Wildfire studio
benefit. Tommy tells us that theyıre leaving shortly; driving all night to
Kentucky for a private affair Saturday night, then back to Chicago for a
private affair Sunday night. J (Time for Rich to put his detective hat
back on!) Tommy says his goodbyes, and disappears back into the private
room. Soon, the remainder of the uneaten food is being brought out, and I
quickly realized what was going on. There is a second private entrance into
that room, and the band has left or is leaving through the other door. I
quickly corral one of the security guards for his assistance. He finally
relents, and takes us outside to an area where the trucks are being loaded,
and a white van is waiting with its engine running. He tells us to wait, and
he walks over to talk with the driver. ³Theyıve left², he tells us.
³Impossible² I said. ³Thereıs still one van waiting here.² And I was right.
There were only two Doobs left, and John and Guy come walking down the alley
in the darkness between two buildings. We walk over and are immediately
greeted by two of the nicest guys youıd ever met. Itıs like we were old
friends. The girls immediately give hugs and kisses, and more hugs and
kisses. (I shake hands, thank you very much.) After a minute or two, Guy
pulls me aside and asks that I say something to John. So, during a lull in
the conversation, I tell John that his playing tonight was exceptional. He
thanks me and appreciates the comment. Then I say, ³But youıre no Eric
Clapton². Well, he knew what was up. He looks at Guy and they both start
laughing. And I started feeling like crap for saying thatbut it was a
harmless inside joke. One of the tour coordinators passes us in a hurry and
says sternly, ³12:30 departure, letıs go!² ³Itıs 12:30?² John says to no
one in particular. ³OK², he says, ³but first we have to take a picture.²
Cool. We snap the picture, theyıre in the van and the band is on their way
to their offsite motor homes for the trip to the land of bourbon and horse
racing.
The girls and I go back inside where the roadies are instructing the local
union labor what-goes-where in the semiıs. All thatıs left on stage are the
aluminum frame drum risersand Big Mikeıs set list, which turns out to be
³cemented² to the riser. I canıt budge itso I take a picture of it instead.
The three of us are the last to walk through the gates of The Finkl Steel
Company at 12:35a.m, followed by the semi trucks nipping at our heels. We
exchange street and email addresses, looking forward to get-togethers at
Doob concerts this summer in Milwaukee (July 7th, SummerFest) and Geneva, IL
(suburban Chicago, August 25th).
Now, if I can only find out where they are in Chicago Sunday night
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