You can join the mission to have a marker placed at the site of the 1979 Who concert tragedy to honor the 11 killed in the pre-show stampede by attending memorial/vigil events set for tomorrow (Friday), the 31st anniversary of the disastrous security failure that changed the concert industry and led to a more careful approach to crowd management.—-
Richard Schweitzer, who attended the concert, was at the Cincinnati Entertainment Awards show last month to tell the audience of local music fans and participants about the organization he founded, the Who Concert Tragedy Memorial Committee, and the group’s plan to fight for a permanent marker at the site between US Bank Arena (home of the 1979 concert, when it was called Riverfront Coliseum) and Reds’ stadium. Signatures were collected at the CEAs by members of the WCTMC, to be used to bolster support for the marker.
A good turnout for Friday’s memorial events will also help raise awareness for the worthy cause. Kicking off at 7 p.m. at the Public Concourse area (between the arena and stadium) with a lantern lighting ceremony and reading of the names of the victims, the schedule picks up at 8 p.m. inside Longworth Hall (within walking distance, on the other side of Paul Brown Stadium).
Schweitzer will begin with an overview of the group’s formation and goals, then current WNKU DJ Craig Kopp will talk about that night 31 years ago, which he covered at the time for his then-employer (and Who concert sponsor), WEBN. Lawyer and WLW radio personality Eric “The Bulldog” Deters will also speak, making the case for Cincinnati’s need for a permanent memorial.
But the best speaker to make a convincing argument for the memorial will be Tom Brown, scheduled to talk at around 8:25 p.m. Brown was a 17-year-old Who fan caught in the fatal crush but able to survive and help others involved. He will read his recount of what had to have been a terrifying situation.
I was 10 years old at the time of the incident and a humongous fan of The Who thanks to Dad’s record collection and having seen the documentary The Kids Are Alright around the same time. Like many Cincinnatians who were in town at that time (though probably those a few years older than I was), I remember that night fairly vividly. It was one of those “Where were you when you heard JFK was shot?” moments for me, which is unusual because, although I was a huge Rock & Roll fan, I have no memories of hearing about the deaths of John Lennon and Elvis Presley, which both occurred in this same time period.
I had stayed up all night when WEBN was giving away tickets to the concert; I thought it would be amazing to go with my dad and so my mom stayed up with me and helped call the station when the giveaways were announced (seemingly every hour). We never won those tickets. But it may be my most lasting concert memory, not, of course, because of the performers, but because of the horrors we watched on TV and listened about on the radio that night.
I think the memories have stuck because I was actually in Cincinnati and I was (and am) such a massive Who fan. But growing into a life as an avid concertgoer and music lover, I have seen how that event has led to better management of audience members over time. Younger concertgoers likely don’t see or appreciate those changes, which is good because that just means they have become industry standards.
Much of the changes relate to “festival seating,” the no-tickets, first-come free-for-all that turns fans into stampeding bulls and crowds into masses of out of control humanity. The concerts you see at Bogart’s or other large club venues use this general-admission approach, which is really where you can see the changes most. Festival seating at arena shows was banned in Cincinnati for over 25 years, but has been lifted for a few exceptions without incident (granted, Bruce Springsteen was the first show to return to the policy in the mid ’00s, so it wasn’t exactly pandemonium waiting to happen).
Most other cities never stopped allowing festival seating, which has led to a lot of moaning over the years from music fans in Cincinnati who believe that a lot of bigger artists (ones that insisted on festival seating) skipped their town due to the ban. That might be true and the evolution of concert security (influenced by what happened here in 1979) has made such shows much safer, so maybe the “ban” should have been lifted a little sooner than it was.
But it’s hard to fault anyone for not supporting the lifting of the ban, especially those who knew people hurt or killed 31 years ago along the river. Or even those who have experienced the mayhem that can result when a “festival-seated” crowd gets uncontrollable.
Not even a decade after that fateful night in 1979, I was in high school and a full-blown music nerd/fanatic. The Beastie Boys had been riding an ever-rising tide of fame and success since the release of their debut album and, being a white high school student, I was hooked by the trio’s music and image. A friend and I decided to head to Dayton’s Hara Arena to see the Beasties on one of their earliest tours (sealing the deal for us to make the drive were the opening acts — Fishbone and Murphy’s Law).
My memory of that night isn’t crystal clear (the Beasties’ endorsement of drinking copious amounts of beer probably has something to do with that), but I do remember standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowd on the floor (about 30 feet from the stage) and the confusion that struck as soon as the rappers came out. In a split-second, the mild discomfort of being so smushed in with so many people became an instant nightmare. The surge to the stage caused the crowd to move, en masse, in all directions — forward and side to side. As the wave continued to move unpredictably, people began to get tripped up and fell to the ground. I remember reaching down and grabbing a girl who’d fallen. She had a terrified look on her ghost-white face and I knew why about 20 seconds later.
The audience pushed back as the bouncers in the front of the stage began telling everyone to move back, but the surge from behind was still rolling forward. I couldn’t help but fall and remember being stepped on and kicked (not on purpose, but due to the physics of the situation) as I began try to tug on people to help me up. I was probably only down for maybe 30 seconds, rolled around like a sack of potatoes loose in the back of a swerving truck, but it felt like several minutes. I finally managed to grab someone’s leg and hoist myself back up. The only other time I ever have felt that sense of terror was when I got caught up in a forceful current while dicking around in some stream with friends. For just a quick moment, both times, I felt like my life was about to be over.
So, while I would have loved to have seen a couple of the artists that have allegedly skipped over Cincy-area arenas since 1979 (that’s what road-trips are for, anyway), I understand why the city resisted allowing festival seating and why those associated with The Who concert were angry the ban was lifted. I watched the rest of that Beasties show from the sidelines and, though no one was hurt that night, I remember thinking about The Who concert and wondering how, eight years later and an hour away, nothing had really changed. But, eventually, it has — crowd-stampede incidents at concerts are pretty rare, largely limited to big festival crowds overseas.
I returned to the throngs occasionally at non-ticketed shows (less so these days), but I was always much more aware of my surroundings and an easy escape. Music has given me a lot over the years. It is something I live for. But it is not something worth dying over, as those 11 Who fans did 31 years ago. They just wanted to go see The Who.
Those eleven victims’ legacy is the safer concerts of today — it seems the least we can do in Cincinnati is erect some sort of monument in their honor.
For more on the Who Concert Tragedy Memorial Committee, check out the group’s Facebook page here.
This article appears in Dec 1-7, 2010.
