A 50-year love affair

On a day in the summer of 1972, a disk jockey at St. Petersburg, Florida's WLCY-AM (138 on your radio dial!) checked his playlist, selected a 45, and then watched as the record dropped onto the turntable and a plastic arm moved to the proper spot in order to drop the needle onto the proper groove.  (Any millennials and Gen Zer's who are confused at that above paragraph can ask their parents for a translation.)

The music that played caught the attention of an eight-year-old girl listening to the radio at home. She heard the song, she liked it, and every other time it played on WLCY, she liked it more. 

I was that eight-year-old girl in 1972. The song was "Saturday In the Park",  and it began a 50-year love affair with the rock group Chicago.

Why Chicago? Why that song? I don't know. What reason can an eight-year-old give for liking a particular song or a particular group? All I know is that it was an upbeat, happy, peppy song, the perfect song to introduce me to a new group.

The band's official website tells the story of "Saturday In the Park" as Robert Lamm coming back from New York's Central Park after seeing the steel drum players, dancers, singers and jugglers, and insisting, we have to write a song about this!

Lamm's account, recorded in Billboard magazine, tells the story this way:  "It was written as I was looking at footage from a film I shot in Central Park, over a couple of year, back in the early '70's.  I shot this film and somewhere down the line I edited it into some kind of a narrative, and as I watched the film I jotted down some ideas based on what I was seeing and had experienced.  And it was really kind of that peace and love thing that happened in Central Park and in many parks all over the world, perhaps on a Saturday, where people just relax and enjoy each other's presence, and the activities we observe and the feelings we get from feeling a part of a day like that."

Gradually, through TV appearances and my own library research, I got to know the band: Terry Kath on guitar, Peter Cetera on bass, Walter Parazaider on saxophone (and occasionally flute), Lee Loughnane on trumpet, James Pankow on trombone, and Robert Lamm on keyboard. 

When I was 13, one of my Christmas presents was Chicago IX - Chicago's Greatest Hits. Like any teenager obsessed with a band, I played it over and over until I had it memorized. And then I still kept playing it. 

I kept my eyes and ears open for any mention of Chicago on the news, on the radio, anywhere I could find them. 

So on the morning of January 24, 1978, while lying in bed and listening to the radio, I heard the words, "One of the members of the group Chicago . . ." and I smiled to myself. 

Then the next four words, " . . . has accidentally killed himself," gut-punched me. 

And that was how I learned that guitarist Terry Kath had accidentally shot himself in the head. His last words?  "Don't worry, it's not loaded."

I was devastated, much like fans are when their favorite entertainer unexpectedly dies. Robin Williams, Kurt Cobain, and Whitney Houston come to mind. 

But Chicago bounced back, with the album "Hot Streets". The band, however, was never the same after Terry Kath died. 

After a dip in popularity in the late '70's/early '80's, Chicago enjoyed a resurgence in popularity. It was then, in 1984, that a dream of mine came true:  I got to see Chicago in concert, in Tallahassee, Florida, during our homecoming week. Our tickets were in the nosebleed zone, something like row XXX. I didn't care. It was Chicago. I screamed the whole time. Now, I barely remember any of the songs they played, except the first one, "We Can Stop The Hurting," from their then-newest album, Chicago XVII; and also "Hard To Say I'm Sorry/Get Away." 

They've gone through personnel changes, musical changes, adjusted to the new world of streaming. 

In 2016, the original six members were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, an honor long overdue. 

As of this writing, they are still touring and still performing; in fact, they recently did a concert here in Atlanta with the Beach Boys. While on the one hand, I'm sorry I missed seeing them; on the other hand, there are only three original members left -- Lee Loughnane, James Pankow, and Robert Lamm. They are not the Chicago I knew as a child.

More recently, fans of the show "This Is Us" were exposed to "Saturday In the Park" when it was used in an episode called . . . "Saturday in the Park." The character of Kate Pearson used the tune of the song to help her blind child remember how to get to the park they went to on Saturdays.

They began as a group of six, 55 years ago, and today, they are still going. 

So, from a now 58-year-old woman, thank you.

Thank you, Robert Lamm, for your trip to Central Park which inspired the song you wrote.

Thank you, DJ at WLCY, 138 AM, for choosing to play "Saturday In the Park" in the summer of 1972.

And thank you, Chicago, for being a part of the soundtrack of my childhood, and for bringing an eight-year-old girl pleasure with a song about a simple but magical day in Central Park. 

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

 

One group, two news stories, 37 years apart . . .

On the morning of January 24, 1978, probably around 5:30 a.m., I was lying in bed with my radio on.  My room was dark because it was very early in the morning, and while I knew I'd have to eventually get up, I didn't want to.  My radio was on either Y95 or Q105 FM, and I'm pretty sure it was Y95.

I was listening to the half-hour news.  After a commercial break, the newscaster came back on.  I still remember his words and my exact reactions:

"One of the members of the group Chicago . . ."

I smiled to myself, because they were my favorite rock band and I always enjoyed hearing news about them.

" . . . has accidentally killed himself."

Bang!  A hit to the gut.

"31-year-old --" and I hit the dial knob.  I didn't want to hear it.  I was thinking to myself.  "Not Terry.  Not Peter.  Not Bobby.  Please."

I turned the dial down to Q105 because I knew they had news on at a quarter to the hour.  And I made myself listen this time.

It was Terry Kath, lead guitarist of Chicago, dead at 31 from an accidental self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.  He was playing with a gun, pointed it at himself, and said, don't worry, it's not loaded. The clip was out of the gun, but a bullet had been left in it.  That was the bullet that killed him.

It was Chicago's low point.  They were never the same after that.

I was 14 years old, and heartbroken.  And I told no one.  My daydreams to that point had included being a member of a rock band, and one of the bands my fictional band would meet and play with was Chicago.  Both before and after Terry's death, my little-girl diaries were filled with information and daydreams about Chicago.

As little girls do, I grew up, and I put away the daydream of being part of a rock band (although I still sing).  But I never forgot Chicago.

This morning, at about 10 after 5 a.m., I was lying in bed with my radio on.  My room was dark because it was very early in the morning, and while I knew I'd have to eventually get up, I didn't want to.  My radio was on WSB-FM, 95.5.

I heard the opening riff of "25 or 6 to 4" and I suspected I knew what the news was.

"Chicago is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

I pumped my fists and whispered, "Yes!"

Thirty-seven years, ten months, and 23 days after the shattering announcement I heard as a little girl, I got to hear what I hope is Chicago's high point.

I was 52 years old, and delighted.

For years, Chicago fans like myself have seethed over Chicago's exclusion from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland.  Their first album was released 46 years ago.  They have long since met the criteria of having released their first album 25 years ago.  Their fans are legion, and the group still tours to this day to rousing applause.  It's been said that a member of Chicago insulted Rolling Stone founder Jann Werner, and that Werner, as a result, wouldn't let them into the RRHOF.

When the most recent nominees were announced a few months ago, Chicago was there.  I don't know how they got there, but they were there.  Eager fans, including myself, raced to their official website and voted over and over and over and over . . . When the fan voting finished. Chicago ranked #1 with 23% of the vote.  (Yes, I know that plenty of people voted more than once; I freely admit, I voted multiple times.)

The fans spoke, and apparently, Jann Werner and company finally listened.  They will be inducted in April, 2016.

(For the record, the five new inductees are Cheap Trick, Chicago, Deep Purple, Steve Miller, and N.W.A.)

Okay, perhaps the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is nothing but a popularity contest and a shrine to the ego of Jann Werner.  And this blog entry will probably mean very little to anyone except those who are Chicago fans; those who, like myself, enjoyed their music from the 1970's, and others who have more recently discovered them.

But I find it fitting that at Chicago's low point and high point, I was in exactly the same place:  lying in the dark, listening to the radio.

From a little girl who loved your music who grew up to be a woman who still loves your music, congratulations.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Family Friday: After 46 years, the invitation remains . . .

The song opens with two staccato chords from Robert Lamm's keyboard.

A trombone riff from James Pankow follows.

The motif is repeated three more times.  On the fourth repeat, Danny Seraphine joins in with the drums, and then they are off and running, accompanied by the throbbing of Peter Cetera's bass, with tambourine by Walter Paradizer in the background.

And then Terry Kath steps up to the microphone and roars:

Hey there everybody
Please don't romp or roam
We're a little nervous
We're so far from home
So this is what to do
Sit back and let it through
And let us work on you

That is the opening of the aptly named "Introduction", the first track on the album Chicago Transit Authority, and the album that introduced the rock group Chicago to the world.  The album hit the shelves on April 28, 1969.  Listen to it, and you'll find it captures the raw energy and excitement of seven men who wanted to create "a rock-and-roll band with horns", to quote trombonist James Pankow.

They succeeded. 

Originally known as Chicago Transit Authority, they dropped the Transit Authority part when the real Chicago Transit Authority threatened to sue.  Now known as simply Chicago, they followed up with Chicago II, III, IV, V . . . and on it goes.  Wikipedia lists thirty-six albums, along with several live albums and a list of compilations.  They began with seven men, and as of this year, four of the original seven are still with the band.

"Chicagophiles" range across at least three generations, maybe more.  Chicago boasts fans from the early days of the 1970's, to those who never heard of Chicago until recently. 

I became a Chicagophile in 1972.  I was eight years old and fell in love with "Saturday In the Park".  However, I didn't get my first Chicago album until 1976, when I was 13.  One of my Christmas presents that year was Chicago IX, the Greatest Hits album. The day after Christmas, while taking down the decorations, my mother suggested that "I play my new album". 

While one could criticize Chicago for "going commercial" in the 1970's, and for losing their "edge", you could not deny their success.  If you listened to AM radio, as I did during those years, you heard "Just You 'N' Me", "Call On Me", "I've Been Searchin' So Long," "Old Days," "If You Leave Me Now," and others as they rose and fell on the Top 40. 

Tragedy struck on January 23, 1978, when Terry Kath accidentally shot and killed himself.  I've seen this event referred to as "the night Chicago died," and I tend to agree.  They were never the same after Terry died. 

But where others may have given up and disbanded, Chicago did not.  They came roaring back with a new guitarist and a new album, "Hot Streets", one of the very few Chicago albums not to contain a Roman numeral.

Over the years, Chicago has seen its share of changes:  personnel changes, changes in the music industry, changes in musical style.  They have dealt with the death of Terry Kath and the contentious departures of original members Peter Cetera and Danny Seraphine.  They have suffered the attacks of "noted" music critics.  I'm sure there have been times when they've been considered down, out, and gone. 

And yet, they remain. 

They still play, they still tour, they still release music.  Recent concerts have seen them pair up with '70's icons Earth, Wind, and Fire and the Doobie Brothers.  Their fans, both old and new, still turn out, still support them, still love them. 

This week, after 22 years of being snubbed, Chicago has finally been nominated for the first time for induction in Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  At the moment, they are number one in the fan voting. 

James William Guercio's original liner notes from the Chicago Transit Authority album end this way:  " . . . if you must call them something, speak of the city where all save one where born, where all of them were schooled and bred, and where all of this incredible music went down barely noticed; call them Chicago."

Through triumph and tragedy, through vinyl, eight-track, reel-to-reel, cassette, CD, MP3, and streaming audio, through praise and criticism, through changing times and changing music, Chicago still goes on, playing the songs, entertaining the fans, making their statement with their music. 

Because, after 46 years, the invitation remains: 

So this is what to do
Sit back and let it through
And let us work on you.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.