AMNESTY TOUR: KEEPING THE DOORS OPEN

Bono Hewson and the rest of U2 were on a tight schedule. The Irish rock quartet had flown from Chicago on a chartered 707 last week with the Police, Bryan Adams and the rest of the Amnesty International troupe for the final concert in a series of six Amnesty benefits.

They were whisked by van to a circus-like tent in the parking lot of Giants Stadium for a 2:30 p.m. press conference, where they explained why they had devoted two weeks to helping raise public awareness of the international human-rights organization.

An hour later, U2 and English singer Peter Gabriel got back into the van and raced to New York City’s Central Park for an anti-apartheid rally that attracted an estimated 40,000 people.

The rally was running 90 minutes late, so U2 might just make it in time to sing “Sun City” with former Bruce Springsteen sidekick Steve Van Zandt. But the van driver couldn’t find the escort that was supposed to lead the party into the park.

Forty-five minutes later, the musicians finally reached the bandstand--just in time to join Van Zandt, Live Aid organizer Bob Geldof and a dozen other musicians on “Sun City.”

Then it was time to go back to New Jersey to check into the hotel--but the van had disappeared. Stranded, U2 followed the crowd out of the park and joined the scramble for cabs.

Three hours later, the van--and the band’s luggage--finally surfaced at the hotel. Noting the hectic schedule, a member of the Amnesty entourage asked Hewson, “Do you think you guys try to do too much sometimes?”

The larger question on many minds--in the wake of Live Aid, Farm Aid and the numerous other socially conscious activities of the last two years--is whether rock ‘n’ roll itself has tried to do too much. Isn’t it time just to have fun again?

Hewson, 26, believes this tour is an answer to that question. “The idea isn’t to preach, but to inspire and invite people to think about matters that should be important to them,” he said during an interview after the first tour press conference on June 3 in San Francisco.

The Irishman, who is emerging as the most inspiring young performer in rock since Bruce Springsteen, hopes that this tour will send that signal to the rock ‘n’ roll community--the artists and fans.

“This tour came at precisely the right moment,” Hewson said in San Francisco. “There are those in the rock ‘n’ roll business who wish that the doors that were opened with phenomena like Band Aid and Live Aid would close. They told me, ‘Can’t we just get this charity business over with?’

“But a lot of us want to keep those doors open. Our goal is to have these events not considered big deals anymore . . . but a routine part of the rock ‘n’ roll life.”

There’s water torture where they drop water on your head for days on end. . . . They’ll put hot, burning tires above you and let the rubber drip down on your skin. . . . They’ll put a rat (under a helmet) on your stomach and heat the helmet so that the rat has to exit through you.

--Jack Healey at Amnesty’s June 15 press conference in East Rutherford.

Jack Healey, 48, was a Franciscan monk for 10 years, a Catholic priest for four, and he retains the friendly conversational style and twinkle-in-the-eye charm of a neighborhood cleric.

But Healey, executive director of Amnesty International in the United States, becomes visibly moved when he talks during press conferences about the torture of political prisoners. His body literally shakes with outrage.

Sitting in his hotel room after one of the tour press conferences, Healey said: “I could have gone into even worse incidents--like the way they rape women time and again in front of their husbands or their children, but I held myself back. The thing people don’t understand is these aren’t isolated incidents. They go on all the time in a third of the countries of the world.

“We’re speaking here of people whose only crime is the non-violent expression of their political or religious beliefs . . . something as simple as a student writing an essay for his college paper or toasting freedom in a public bar. Our organization tries to put an end to all this by putting public pressure on the governments involved.”

A former Peace Corps official and fund-raiser for hunger projects, Healey realized as soon as he joined the Amnesty staff in 1981 that the organization, which is well known throughout much of the world, needed a higher profile in this country.

He saw rock ‘n’ roll as a way to raise the awareness of Amnesty here--especially the awareness among young people. For years, however, he ran into dead ends trying to enlist the support of rock musicians. The impasse ended in 1984 when he saw U2 in concert at Madison Square Garden.

“When I heard the song ‘Pride,’ and saw them flash pictures of Martin Luther King Jr. and American Indians on the screen, I knew I had my man,” Healey said.

Healey is fond of saying that it just took a 10-minute meeting in U2’s home town of Dublin for U2 to agree to do the benefits, but Hewson had already done a lot of thinking about Amnesty.

Hewson has almost an evangelical presence on stage as he reaches out to fans with messages of hope and determination.

“I believe in the power of music to affect us,” he said during an interview in a hotel restaurant in Chicago, the fourth stop on the tour.

“For instance, I learned about Amnesty International by attending the Secret Policeman’s Other Ball concert (a 1981 benefit show in London featuring Sting, Pete Townshend and others). I went there just to have a good time the way you go to most concerts, and I laughed like everybody else when John Cleese called Sting ‘String.’

“But I was intrigued by just what Amnesty International was all about and why these musicians were supporting it. So I don’t buy it when people say fans are only concerned with the music. I think a lot of them want to go away touched in a more permanent way.”

Even after securing commitments from U2 and Sting, however, Healey had trouble getting U.S. acts to agree to the show. A lot of them simply said there had been too many benefits. Others didn’t know anything about Amnesty. So Hewson and U2’s manager Paul McGinnis got actively involved. McGinnis enlisted the support of Bill Graham, the noted San Francisco concert promoter, and other managers. Hewson called artists. The idea was to do shows in six cities over two weeks: San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver, Atlanta, Chicago and East Rutherford.

“We didn’t want the Amnesty tour to look like Live Aid 17,” McGinnis said. “We wanted to do something that had its own spirit and sense of commitment. That’s why it was important to do two weeks of shows--not just one big show in a stadium.”

Agreed Sting: “It’s very important for each project to have its own identity. People get bored if you do the same thing over and over again. If, for instance, they’d tried to do Live Aid again this year it wouldn’t have had the same impact. You have to find new ways to maintain people’s interest.”

By the time the tour kicked off June 4 in San Francisco, the permanent lineup included U2, Sting, Bryan Adams, Peter Gabriel, Lou Reed, Joan Baez and the Neville Brothers. Guests who popped up along the way included Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Jackson Browne, Bob Geldof, Dave Stewart and comedian Robin Williams.

In Atlanta, Sting was joined by his Police-mates, drummer Stewart Copeland and guitarist Andy Summers. It was the group’s first performance since March, 1984.

The arena shows were fast-paced, high-quality affairs produced with state-of-the-art precision by Bill Graham. Even at five hours each there was no sense of the padding that frequently undercuts the snap of marathon benefits. One reason is that the acts each brought an aura of purpose in their music and manner to the evening.

This wasn’t just a parade of best sellers, as with Live Aid, but artists who represented years of pop rock tradition (the Nevilles, Baez, Reed) and some of the most compelling, committed figures of the ‘80s (U2, Sting, Gabriel).

These were memorable shows that became even more inspiring as the tour proceeded across the country, because you could feel a growing atmosphere of community on stage. It was a genuine crusade, and the artists gained power on stage and reflected increasing articulateness and passion in the press conferences that accompanied each concert.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the show that most people saw. Unlike the trim arena concerts, the Giants Stadium finale--broadcast in its entirety on MTV and the Westwood One radio network--was a bloated, 11-hour presentation that ended up too much in the “Live Aid 17” mode that Hewson and Sting had wanted to avoid.

Some of the additional acts made sense because they added musical seasoning (jazzmen Miles Davis and Stanley Jordan and reggae activists Third World) and/or international symbolism (Panama’s Ruben Blades, Nigeria’s Fela), but there was at least three hours of fat in the 19-act bill.

It wasn’t until the basic lineup came on near the two-thirds mark that the 55,000 fans at Giants Stadium--most of whom had spent the long afternoon lying on blankets in picnic fashion--came to life.

While the re-formed Police turned in a classy, effective closing set, U2 was the band that received the most rousing response. As the group walked on stage just before 11 p.m., fans draped homemade banners across stadium rails and cheered mightily. Among the slogans: “U2--Band of the ‘80s” and, from Bruce Springsteen’s home town, “Freehold, N.J., Welcomes U2.”

The question remaining was just how much of this enthusiasm transfers to the artists.

Despite the general excellence of the performances, the tour wasn’t the supercharged emotional experience for the audience in most cities that Live Aid was last summer in London. One reason is the issue involved. With Live Aid, the audience was captured by a clear, easily understood image: starving people in Ethiopia.

On early tour stops, the audience didn’t have a clue for most of the evening what Amnesty International was all about. The crowd tried to muster enthusiasm when various musicians alluded to helping eliminate human suffering and releasing political prisoners. But many in the audience seemed puzzled. They didn’t know if the artists were talking about releasing all prisoners--including bank robbers--or just some prisoners.

When I asked some teen-agers near me during the Forum concert in Inglewood what Amnesty International was all about, one of them replied, “Doesn’t it help people who have lost their memory?”

As the tour moved East, the audience seemed to become more aware of the issues involved, perhaps because of the advance media coverage and frequent reports about the concert on MTV.

Healey was encouraged by the early signs. Besides raising an estimated $3 million in Amnesty funds, the tour goal was to sign up 25,000 new members who would become “freedom writers”--pledging to send postcards monthly to governments demanding the release of specific prisoners of conscience.

By the end of the 11-hour show at Giants Stadium, 35,000 people had signed up via Amnesty pledge lines.

Joan Baez, who has been part of activist pop since the ‘60s, was impressed by the dedication of the young musicians on this tour.

“I would say I am definitely less skeptical and cynical than I was two years ago, when the beginnings of it seemed like great big picnics and practically zero commitment--except for Geldof, who had 200% commitment,” Baez said during the charter flight from Chicago to Newark.

“For everybody else, there was no risk--in fact, it was a risk to your career if you didn’t appear on things like Live Aid. But I was impressed on this tour by how everyone handled themselves at press conferences and how deeply they seemed to delve into the issues away from the cameras.

“This tour is definitely different in depth and meaning from all the one-day parties. I’m not predicting that it is already a revolution . . . but it is a start.”

The seriousness of the Amnesty theme didn’t mean the tour was all work and no play. Chris Chappel alone made sure of that.

One of the tour’s coordinators, Chappel is an Englishman who has been in love with rock ‘n’ roll since the night in 1965 that he saw the Who. The quick-witted Chappel maintained a constant stream of one- and two-line gags that helped combat the tension inherent in any operation the size of the Amnesty tour.

Phoning an Amnesty official from the hotel lobby in Atlanta, Chappel opened by saying, “This is a political prisoner in the lobby and I’m using my last quarter to call you.”

The Amnesty officials didn’t quite know how to respond to all this, but Healey eventually got into the spirit of Chappel’s jokes.

In the van on the way to the Atlanta concert, Healey said, “You know, Chris, we are against torture of any kind, but in your case a little torture might be in order.”

The musicians also had fun. During a free night in Atlanta, Hewson, Reed, Baez and the Nevilles took over the hotel lounge stage for an hour of music when the house band took a break.

But the musicians also used the time to learn more about the issues involved. Hewson, Sting and Baez were articulate spokespersons for Amnesty from the beginning, but Reed and Gabriel--who were quite reserved at the opening press conference--became more vocal as the tour unfolded.

Gabriel became especially interested in the death penalty--one of the target issues of Amnesty. He even distributed a reprint of a magazine article about death-penalty inequities to everyone on the tour plane en route to Chicago on June 12.

At the press conference that afternoon, Gabriel spoke passionately on the death-penalty issue. “One of the things I’ve learned (on this tour) and have been somewhat horrified about is just how far the death penalty has returned in this country. . . . I would ask four questions of the people in this country, who I believe to be basically fair and just:

“First, where are the statistics to show there has been a drop in violent crime since the death penalty has returned? Second, why are there so many black people on Death Row? Third, why are there so many poor people on Death Row? Fourth, why is it only the United States and Turkey--of all the countries in NATO--still have the death penalty?”

It was interesting to see Lou Reed, once billed as the “Duke of Decadence” for such street-wise tunes as “Heroin” and “Walk on the Wild Side,” emerge as such an effective spokesman.

In early press conferences, Reed simply offered some general remarks about the tour being a learning experience. In Chicago, a reporter asked Reed--almost in the form of a doubting challenge--to elaborate on what he had actually learned.

Reed seemed somewhat surprised by the question and started off slowly, but warmed up to the subject. “In a country where Reagan is President, it is very easy to be cynical,” Reed said. “But I’m really fascinated (about why people are arrested and what happens to them in jail). . . . It’s inconceivable. I mean . . . for the rock ‘n’ roll records I’ve made, I’d be dead 10 times over if I was over there.”

One of the wonders of the “We Are the World” recording session was how four dozen pop stars got through that evening in 1985 without any ego clashes.

It was even more intriguing to see the musicians on the Amnesty tour get along for two weeks as easily as they did. Hewson and Reed spent lots of time together on the plane or at the hotel talking about Amnesty and about music. Peter Gabriel carried a video camera everywhere with him.

For all his cool, distant media image, Sting proved as down-to-earth as anyone, strolling freely through the hotel and posing when asked for fans’ photos. Indeed, he emerged as a leader among the musicians, interacting easily with Hewson, especiallay when decisions were necessary.

But the tour was not totally free of tension. There was, for instance, a closed-door meeting in Atlanta to address in part the concerns over the direction the tour was taking.

Miles Copeland, the outspoken, sometimes abrasive manager of the Police, was furious in the backstage reception area in Atlanta over how far the tour had evolved from simply a series of shows into an all-day MTV telecast and syndicated TV program.

“I’m totally supportive of Amnesty, but I told them from the beginning: ‘If you want six shows, you’ve got six shows. Leave it at that,’ ” Copeland said, not trying to lower his voice in the crowded room.

“Don’t come back and say, ‘Now there’s a book, now there’s a TV show, now there’s a video, now there’s a movie.’ But what do we find? The concert is not only going to be on MTV, it’s going to be syndicated across America and going to Japan. Nobody told us. I have a syndicated broadcast with the Police on July 4. What are we going to tell the stations who are broadcasting that?

“The point is, rock has an enormous power but it has to be selective. There’s the danger of overexposure of the artists and simply wearing out the audiences.

“I understand that X-million more people across the country will see the show if it goes on MTV, but how many times can that happen before it becomes old hat? A TV person will say, ‘Nah, we’re not interested this time.’ And the audiences will stop tuning in. You’ve got to protect the power we have, and I thought that’s what we were going to do this time.”

Bill Graham, who used to be as volatile as Copeland, emerged as the peacemaker during the Atlanta meeting of artists, managers and tour coordinators.

On the bus ride to the airport the next morning, he summarized, “They (Copeland and Amnesty) are both right. Amnesty’s desire is to expose their work on the one shot they have with the bands. . . .

“The artists support that, but they have to be aware that there’s a point of diminishing returns. It’s like Jackie Gleason going on TV one day and saying, ‘Drink Sanka coffee, I’m Jackie Gleason,’ then going on television the next day and saying, ‘Use American Express, I’m Jackie Gleason.’ You can only do that so many times.

“We sit in the great position of knowing all these causes are valid: the homeless, the hungry, the disabled, the blind. But,” he added, pointing to Sting, who was sitting in front of Graham on the bus, “when he’s in this town, I’m sure he has been hit by three local organizations and each time one of those organizations connect it’s only human for them to think, ‘This is our one shot and we want to take it all the way.’ ”

About the Atlanta meeting and other dealings with the rock managers, Healey said: “There were problems. At times it has been difficult and rough. This is an industry that doesn’t write memos. At some points on the tour, I really felt it was easier to deal with dictators because what was said one day wasn’t always the case the next day. You’d start reality all over again.”

But Healey dismissed the tensions as “footnotes, even less than footnotes.” Standing backstage after the final Giants Stadium concert, he said: “What has made me feel best about all this is the commitment of the artists. Their support never wavered, they just kept coming and coming.”

As rock musicians, we are generously rewarded for what we do and I think . . . we should try to give back. I think the extraordinary thing is the more we try to give, the more we seem to get back . . . because rock ‘n’ roll becomes a much more vital medium.

--Bono Hewson at the Amnesty

press conference on

on June 12 in Chicago

“I noticed there was a unique feeling of good will backstage at Live Aid,” Hewson said, sitting in a hotel restaurant shortly after the Chicago press conference. “I could see it on the faces of the performers.

“That’s a lot different from the face of rock ‘n’ roll in the ‘70s when it was so empty, so hollowed out, covered by black eye shadow.

“At Live Aid, I saw these people giving and getting back. They were discovering that music is a gift and that it is more blessed to give than receive. And the irony is that the performers at Live Aid started selling more records. It was the spiritual laws coming to pass, if you like.”

Healey seemed like a man stepping out of a dream as he stood backstage at Giants Stadium an hour after U2 had finished its closing performance. The crowd had gone home and the workers were already cleaning up the huge facility. He seemed sad that it was over, but thrilled by what had been achieved.

“All our phones, national and regional, are just ringing off the wall,” he said. “It’s really phenomenal. I just can’t tell you how thrilled I am.”

About the issue of the future of rock concerts and the “compassion fatigue factor,” Healey reflected a moment, then said, “I think Americans have had it so good in this country, so many freedoms that there’s a decadence and apathy. . . .

“They tend to forget they need to do something to help other people. When they say there’s enough of these events it’s lazy and cynical. Each of our 50 states is as big as many countries around the world, and to talk about 5 or 10 of these events being saturation I think is just not acceptable.”