Today we have middle school and, in the seventies, we had junior high. When I was in junior high and began collecting vinyl, I turned to Alice Cooper and Kiss. Why? It seemed like the thing to do at the time.

As it has been ALMOST fifty years, many of my memories are a bit vague on parts of this story. Somehow, someway, the plan was launched to see Kiss at the old Chicago Stadium on January 15th, 1977, my sixteenth birthday. Three of my friends would be invited to join me.

My parents did a reasonable job. I have never been arrested, earned two college degrees (BS and MS), and think I made a reasonable contribution to society as an educator for thirty-four years. This being said, Blaine and Barbara in the great beyond, what the hell were you thinking? Parents of the three friends as well, what the hell were you thinking too?

The logistics were that four naïve middle-class teenagers would be dropped off at the South Shore station in Michigan City, Indiana. We had the intelligence and capability to board a train towards Chicago. It was west. As I recall, the ride in was uneventful, and we disembarked at the Randolph Street Station, what is now called Millenium Station. So far so good.

Now we have to get almost three miles to Chicago Stadium. This is the late seventies; we lack both cell phones and a clue. No cabs, and we didn’t know how to board a public bus, so I got directions and began walking. Was it cold? It’s mid-January in what people call the “Windy City.” I recall taking point and walking as fast as I could. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Did our parents let us lose in some sort of urban Lord of the Flies?

Somehow, some way, we made it. I think it was too cold to rob and or kill four teens. We handed people paper tickets and found our not great but not horrible seats. Uriah Heep would have opened, and the Google says the concert was a week later, on January 22th. As I heard from more than one student over the years, what-ever.

This was the original band, with garish outfits, makeup, and pyrotechnics, they had broken out into stardom. They played loud music we liked and had their schtick. This was our first concert, there was nothing to compare it to, and we had a good time. I remember feeling the warmth of something with fire at the other end of the arena.

Now we have to get back, it’s late and after the show. No, you can’t take an Uber, we can’t find a cab, and buses are packed, and I decide to ask one of Chicago’s finest what he suggests. He looked incredulously at me that we walked there, and said we were nuts. He said something like “I don’t even like being on patrol there.”

“What should we do?” I asked him. He blew his whistle motioned to another officer instructed him to take us in a squad car back to the train station and wished us well.

Laughing MY (soon to be frozen again) Ass Off. Are you high? Have you been drinking? Of course, that didn’t happen. He shrugged his shoulders and we walked back again. No hat, no gloves, no scarf, no brains. Put your head down, think of your warm bed at home, blankets, comforters, fireplaces, space heaters, thought of girls at school who won’t give me the time of day, and maybe even pray a little. This was the dumbest thing I ever did to that point, sanctioned by eight parents.

The ride home wasn’t a joyride either. I recall drunk people, nothing shocking growing up in the Heinz family but a bit surprising on the South Shore. I recall a pint bottle flying over our heads and shattering all over the train car. Toto, I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore.

No Mom and Dad were not waiting at the station. I’m sure someone put a dime in a pay phone, called, and we got picked up and taken to our homes. Great story at high school the next day.

I never saw Kiss again, but have been to many more concerts, none like that transportation-wise. Now they are done touring, supposedly, and I have this memory.

I want to rock and roll all night, and live to the next day!

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR