I can't believe it. I taped the Grammy Awards show and haven't watched it all yet. Well, chances are that I'll fast forward through most of it so I can just watch the performances and/or performers I enjoy.
But when I saw the blurbs on the news about Sly (of Sly and the Family Stone) showing up, I had to go to the tape. Sure enough, there he was... looking like George Clinton designed his wardrobe and Mr. T did his hair. Yikes!
You have to understand, I was a child of the sixties. Sly burnt me when I was fourteen years old! Yes, he did! Don't get me wrong; I love his music. It's because I love his music that I got burnt.
Here's what happened:
I had saved my babysitting money and my brother (a year older) had some cash from wherever he got cash those days. We talked our mother into driving us about ten miles away to Albany -- Sly and the Family Stone were to play at the old Palace Theater there. The show was to start at 7:30, the neighborhood was a bit hinky. We got there at 7, bought our tickets and went in when they opened the doors at 7:15 PM. 8 PM came, nothing. 9 PM, nothing. The odor of marijuana wafted through the air and we made friends with the two aisles of folks around us. We invented a game where we'd tap out songs on the seat backs and guess what song. 10 PM, nothing. About every hour a man would get on the stage announcing the show was delayed, they were waiting for Sly to arrive.
Then midnight came. A priest, a Catholic priest, got on the stage and announced that Sly "got into an altercation on Central Avenue and will not be appearing tonight." He was surrounded by Albany police. We were to exit immediately and orderly. We had no choice. The Albany Police were there full force in riot gear with the plastic shields and all. Dang. What did they think we'd do? We'd been stuck in a theater full of marijuana smoke for five hours. We could be violent nappers, I guess.
I never got my money back.
Sly burnt me.
And left me stuck in a bad neighborhood past midnight on a school night.
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