CHAPTER 1

One Man's Retrospective …

...The stench of sulfur hung heavily in the air as he checked his survival gear and armor straps for the last time. Gripping his great sword tightly in both hands he stepped into the cave entrance and was immediately engulfed by an oppressive and unseen weight that appeared to reach out of the darkness to seep slowly and numbingly into his mind and limbs. Moving with a stealth, which belied his sinewy yet powerful frame, he came to stop at a roughly hewn stone aperture several yards inside the cavernous maw. Holding his breath he glanced around a corner of this opening to peer through an unnaturally glowing mist that shrouded the entire passageway beyond.

He was close now - very close. His quest for freedom was no longer a question of if but when. Within moments he would come face to face with destiny. Somehow he knew his actions would make a difference. Not just to he alone but also to the lives of those which whom he had been a pawn in oppressing in the years of his beguiled and misled past. Clinging to a hope that a goal of attaining redemption for misdeeds he had committed as an agent of evil, By-Tor was set in his resolve. He knew that to fail would be the end of him. Better to fight for what he held true and perish he rationalized than to live a life in isolation and despair. Deep within a dark and foreboding lair past the vast and perilous tunnel system before him lurked his sinister prism-eyed target. Grim yet determined, By-Tor took a tentative breath of foul air and pressed on.

Stealthily he made his way down the vaporous tunnel. Haunted by misdeeds he had committed as a dark knight, By-Tor stepped beneath a roughly constructed stone archway when without warning the ground beneath him crumbled and fell away...

* * *

…And so it went, as I played deep into the night on countless occasions the imaginative game called Dungeons & Dragons. Looking back with fondness on those carefree high school days of role-playing imaginary heroes based on lyrics created by my all time favorite rock band Rush, I think of how I allowed this musical group from Toronto, Canada to play an integral part in my inspirational development. For a kid that would appear to have turned out the better for it as an adult, I can't help but smile.

The summer of 1981 was the year I began listening to Rush in earnest. I would also begin purchasing Rush albums with hard earned cash I made for selling flowers on street corners. It wasn't a glamorous job but it paid the bills. Back in the day when a seller's permit was all you needed to keep you legitimized (…helped to keep you from getting shut down on the spot by some cop looking to throw the book at you more like it!) I produced my tattered legal paperwork with a practiced grin every weekend. To be offered a typical "paycheck earning job" in those days for me was considered out of the question to most employers. In my quest to find work I quickly discovered I was "too young" to be hired legally. I was fifteen.

Coming to terms with accepting the fact that I wouldn't be making money for myself in the near future, I no sooner befriended a curiously anomalous employed kid in high school. I couldn't believe it! Here was this kid the same age as me (truth to tell he was a year older but who cares at this point right?) making "cosmic coin" and all of it under the table and tax free! The guy was a millionaire! Well, not really - but he did have plenty of spare currency to go around. I had to get in on his action and pronto! Getting chummy with my peers in school was never a problem for me. I was the kind of kid that kept somewhat of a low profile so having friends in various circles came easy without the stigma of a bad reputation to weigh me down. As soon as I got in good with "John Gossette" I knew without a doubt I would be on my way to earning riches beyond my wildest dreams.

"I was such a knucklehead back then."

With a vulture's tact I opted for the direct approach and managed to finagle a name and number out of him quicker than you could say "help! I'm having a heart attack!" John suggested I get in touch with his employer's dad who happened to be looking for kids (suckers more like it!) to sell flowers for him on weekends. So that was that. John's secret was out of the bag. Even better - I had a piece of paper with the name and number of my future meal ticket gripped tightly in my sweaty digits. John had earned a place in my good books that day. "Wow!" I thought. "How easy could this be? Flowers sell themselves! I'll do it!" I remember picking up the phone that night with a grin that stretched ear to ear as money signs danced merrily across my mind's eye. Mom thought I was on drugs.

Little did I know, throughout the following year and a half, I would be called upon to sell flowers on street corners each and every weekend come hell or high-water. Cold and rainy days sucked the most! Numb fingers and cold water never worked for me - and heaven forbid you ask what lengths I was forced to resort to on days I was confronted with the dilemma of having to relieve myself when nature came calling. I shudder as I write this just thinking about it. On a happy note I did get free lunches! I was a chubby kid back then so munching McDonald cheeseburgers was a highlight in my long and boring weekends.

Years later I would discover to my surprise the reason I was so popular with "Roberto" my employer was that I never cheated or stole from him. It cheered me a great deal to hear such a heartfelt and genuine admission relayed by Roberto's own son "Tito" whom I happened to run across in a chance encounter one day some ten years prior to this writing. The thing is, I honestly wasn't prepared for the truth of the matter for which I was held in such high regard. You see, evidently several of the other kids that sold flowers under Roberto's tutelage in those days sold bouquets for more than there retail value and pocketed the excess cash unbeknownst to him (at first) - and me all together. The amount of money you earned in this business was relative to the amount of flowers you sold. Normally every five bucks gained per bouquet would earn you a buck in return. My fellow coworkers of the day figured out a way to sell bouquets for six bucks a pop effectively doubling their weekend income! I was stunned to hear about this. Since then, the two things I recall most from those days are - my coworkers were craftier than I gave them credit for and second and more to the point - in my naïveté, I never thought to do the same damned thing! Holy crap! The money I could have made! I was such a tool. On the other hand - I never had it in me to be a crook. I learned early in life - the hard way - that I would never be good at it - but that's another story...

In 1981 in a neighboring city of West Covina there was a Tower Records store, which was the closest music retailer in my suburban neck of the woods where one could go to find the latest hits at a reasonable price. It was to this record store I rode my bike (and sometimes walked) to purchase Rush albums I needed to fill the gaps of my ever-increasing collection of LPs. I recall my obsessive mission to build my archive beginning with the album Moving Pictures, followed in close second with Exit Stage Left, then Permanent Waves, 2112, Fly By Night, Hemispheres, A Farewell To Kings, Rush, Caress Of Steel, Rush Archives, and All The Worlds A Stage in that order.

For hours on end I remember lying around in my bedroom reading, studying and scrutinizing each and every Rush album cover, sleeve, picture, lyric and credit I could get my hands on. I listened to their respective vinyl's from start to finish over and over again like a proverbial - lame cliché alert! - broken record. Ugh! Prior to purchasing Rush albums myself, one of my oldest and closest friends named Alfonso Hernandez had already picked up copies of Permanent Waves, Moving Pictures and the just released Exit Stage Left live album. Spending the night at his house one weekend (while on vacation from selling flowers) I built up the nerve to ask him to borrow them for a week. He agreed and later found that a week would turn to several (and a hundred listens later) by the time he would get them back. After returning these life-altering albums I made the decision to begin building my very own record collection. All of a sudden, my weekend buzz kill flower selling sessions had an underlying purpose I could live with.

Shortly thereafter another good friend of mine named David Grall whom I had known since the sixth grade got turned on to Rush after playing side one of 2112 for him in it's entirety. He has been a tried and true fan ever since.

From that day forward Dave and I were Rush buddies through and through. Often times Dave would pay me a visit at home to hang out, talk about girls, shoot the shit and mostly just spend time listening to music. We shared interests in most general teen-aged pursuits but in those days nothing came close to our shared love of Rush music.

The next year would introduce us to our very first Rush concert experience, following the release of their eagerly anticipated follow up to their previous studio album Moving Pictures. Featuring songs like Subdivisions and New World Man - not to mention a cool fire hydrant sniffing Dalmatian on the cover - Signals was a hit!

In September of 1982, we began hearing reports of a Signals New World Tour underway from a local radio station 95.5 KLOS. Rush would be making four appearances in and around the LA area within the first few months of the following year. The days we spent waiting in anticipation of a concert appearance following the announcement of a Rush tour was hard for us to bear that holiday season.

In February of 1983 Rush would perform for two nights in a row at the Long Beach Arena. Following a day of rest between venue appearances, Rush would conclude their visit to Los Angeles with two consecutive nights at the Great Western Forum in Inglewood. By the grace of God and a butt load of hoping and praying we planned on making appearances of our own in at least one of the four concert dates. We didn't think in terms of seeing Rush "more than once per tour" back then. What did we know? We were still kids and didn't know any better at the time. Years later that line of thinking would change dramatically but now I'm getting ahead of myself.

Okay, where was I?

Oh yeah…

Sixteen years old, no car to drive - and let's not forget the fact that we had no driver's licenses yet either - we set aside such trivial concerns for the moment to concentrate our combined efforts on purchasing concert tickets first and foremost. We would work out those other pesky little details later in the game - but just to be safe…we kept our fingers and toes crossed.

On the day tickets went on sale, Dave and I raced out early to a Music Plus record store to cop a squat in line with fellow Rush fans and managed to rustle up a couple of tickets for the Valentine's Day February 14th show in Long Beach. We couldn't believe our good fortune. We had "lodge" seats - whatever that meant! We didn't care. As far as we were concerned, we were already there. We scored big time!

With our first priority out of the way, we then set our sights on figuring out exactly how we planned on getting to the show. Our initial reaction was to ask my older brother Clarence for a lift. He happened to conveniently have a driver's license and a car to boot. Problem solved. Clarence was eighteen and studying to become an electrician at a local trade school at the time. Unfortunately for us, chauffeuring us around on a Sunday night the day before a big test was out of the question.

Strike one!

Rats! Next we tried our parents. No dice.

Strike two!

We were sweating bullets and running out of options fast. Then like a miracle, Dave's older sister Patty offered to give us a lift to the show in her red Volkswagen bug.

Woo Hoo! High five Dave! We just hit a home run buddy!

We were stoked!

Valentine's Day that year was a beauty. Clear skies and a striking sunset are memories I remember well when looking back on that momentous occasion. Arriving just outside the Arena, we synchronized our schedules for a time and place to get picked up afterward (with Patty), gave our thanks, said our good-byes and made our way to the arena entrance. I'm not sure who brought up the fact that we could stand to eat something before the event at that point but we both agreed we were hungry. With about an hour to spare before show time we found ourselves ordering dinner at a nearby Carls Jr. restaurant.

Now I can't speak for Dave in this instance but for whatever reason I was feeling thrilled to be away from home and on our own for the first time in our young lives. In our enthusiasm we even took a moment to joke with the girl taking our order with a hypothetical "what if" situation involving the possible theft of our numbered placard handed to us at the conclusion of our money transaction. The question we put to the girl at the counter went something like this - "What would happen if this plastic numbered thingy you gave us to place at the end of our table got picked up by some giant thug of a guy only to sit down with it at an empty table leaving the two of us to sit there like a couple of assed out chumps?" "Don't worry" she replied with an amused grin, "I'll be sure to remember who placed your order okay?" We smiled back then laughed out loud with an unmistakable hint of sixteen year old giddiness for having thought up such a crazy notion in the first place. Heh. Not wanting to risk any unnecessary chances we made our way to an empty (safely hidden) table in the back of the establishment. Oh, and in case I've got you wondering - the imaginary thug we had hypothesized about that day...

- he never showed.

Ha!

Our burgers arrived without incident. We ate our meals quickly. Dave with his; eat fries first then follow up with the burger method, all the while cleaning his palette with a drink of soda between bites (a method he still employs to this day I might add!) while I on the other hand ate everything all at once - a real taste sensation. Chomp! Chomp! Slurp! Buuurrrp!

As a kid I was never taught to slow down when it came to eating. As a result, my body suffered from it in the long run from not digesting food properly ending up with a tubby frame.

We exited the restaurant with about fifteen minutes to show time. We couldn't wait to see Rush. Making our way to the arena entrance we found ourselves waiting in an ever-growing line. Our hearts were racing. I could feel the perspiration building in my brand new slip-on Vans tennis shoes (although I considered myself a borderline geek I did my best to appear as trendy as possible back in those days - Cowabunga Dude!). Off to the side of the main doors stood a booth with attendees working the local radio station KLOS handing out freebees and radio paraphernalia. Had we known at the time, Dave and I would have stopped to pick up rainbow Rush bumper stickers being handed out as promotional gifts. Oh well.

Moments before giving up our tickets the thought occurred to me - "We're finally here!"

This was the first time I would experience a concert in an enclosed arena. Up until that day the only other concert I had ever attended was with my brother Clarence at the outdoor Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum featuring the Rolling Stones with opening acts I can't even begin to remember with the exception of one seemingly out of place upstart who was mercilessly booed and pelted off the stage with large flattened out wax-coated Coke cups (which made for extremely accurate projectiles) much to the dismay of the disgruntled performer who would later go on to change his name a few times after skyrocketing to dizzying heights of fame and fortune as the artist formally know as - Prince. Boy did he ever have the last laugh.

Slipping through the turnstiles we were asked to have our tickets displayed and ready to better facilitate the incoming crowd gathered en masse at the main entrance. Giving our tickets a cursory glance and satisfied with their authenticity the turnstile attendee ripped them in half and handed us our stubs. A few paces later we were patted down then given access to the lobby and beyond.

The place was crawling with wall-to-wall Rush fans. The entryway was a cacophony of sights and sounds.

We were ready for anything…

Taking advantage of the few minutes remaining before the concert; Dave and I made our way around the venue's outer foyer. Outside the venue the sun had finally set. Stopping occasionally to peruse the available New World Tour collectibles along the way to our seats we made one last pit stop in what I recall was a w-a-a-a-y over-crowded restroom then made a beeline to our designated lodge seats. Racing around the arena we found the entrance to the section where we would catch the show. Walking through the concrete corridor between the outer and inner halls I was amazed by the size and grandeur of the domed interior. Taking a few seconds to adjust to the scope of what I saw before me, I stopped to wipe my glasses with a napkin I kept as a souvenir from the restaurant we had left minutes earlier. Having been nearsighted for as long as I can remember I was concerned my current lens prescription would not be strong enough to allow me to make out details of the band, as I would have liked. It had been a while since I last paid a visit to my optometrist and I knew my vision had worsened a bit since then.

In my youth wearing glasses really sucked. It wasn't always like this however. In the first five to six years of my life I could see the world just fine. At some point between the first and second grade of elementary school my vision began it's gradual deterioration resulting with the inevitable blurring of fine detail in everything I saw around me. I remember the day I realized I needed corrective lenses vividly. One day while playing late with some neighborhood kids (down the street from where I lived), I was told by my buddies that my Mom was standing out on the curb waiting for me to come home. Looking over to where my friends had pointed all I could make out was my Dad's car and a trashcan in front of it. I turned back to my friends and laughed and said, "That's not my Mom! That's a trashcan!" My friends were stunned. "What?" they said, "Are you blind or something? That's your Mom eh?" How could that be my Mom I thought - she looks like a trashcan to me. Thinking quickly I raised my arm and waved in the trashcan's direction. To my amazement - it waved back! Now it was my turn to be stunned. I walked home squinting all the way. Day's later I was introduced to my very first pair of glasses to which I quickly came to the conclusion I hated from the get go. I've never gotten around to getting that marvelous laser surgery available these days but I've been told my eyes are perfect candidates for a corrective procedure of this sort. I suppose I'll get around to it someday…but enough of my musings…

Where was I again?

With the assistance of an arena employee Dave and I were quickly escorted to our waiting seats. "Cool! Are these our seats? No? …Then how 'bout these? No? Then these must be them right? No? … Dude, something's not right. I thought we were closer to the stage"… And so it went until we ended up halfway up the back of the arena's rear section. Suddenly our lodge seats didn't seem quite as appealing as we had hoped they'd be.

The arena was big. REAL BIG! The seats seemed a lot closer on the venue map when Dave and I had them pointed out to us by a Music Plus clerk a few weeks back. Sitting in our seats for the first time we settled in and took in the vista view. Hmmm… Making the most of our situation we concluded that perhaps our view of the stage wasn't all that awful. At least we could make it out from where we were. We wouldn't be able to see the band's faces or finger work on their instruments but at least we'd be able to hear them just fine - let alone be able to boast bragging rights that we were here at all! Ever the optimist, a big part of my character has always been one for making lemonade out of lemons in the face of adversity. It's a gift. ;)

Speaking of bragging rights… right before settling in, the thought occured to me we still needed proof to show our friends at school that we were here. Remembering the collectibles being sold (and going fast) out in the entrance hall Dave and I agreed to head back there to pick up something to show off for later. With seconds to spare we made our way back to the vendor tables where I whipped out my Rush Velcro wallet filled with cash earned from selling flowers - ah thank you! - and picked up a gray (black sleeved) jersey T-shirt featuring the Dalmatian sniffing hydrant on the front with concert dates listed on the back. A red heart enhanced the Valentines date on the shirt, which made it all the more coincidently appropriate for us, as we happened to be catching the show that very day. Impressed with the shirt, Dave picked one up for himself as well.

Running extremely short on time, I took a few extra moments to decide I wanted to pick up a Signals tour book. I was curious to see what kind of info and pictures it contained. Making our way back to our seats the lights inside the arena went dark and amplified rock music began to blare out onto the entrance hall from inside. In that split second we realized we were missing the show! Suddenly everyone around us began running in a frenzied panic - never a good sign. Giving ourselves a wide-eyed "holy shit" look - we raced back to our seats… In my mind I thought to myself "Damn it all to hell! I've made it all this way to catch my first Rush concert and now I'm missing the intro...Run fat ass...Run!!!"

to be continued...