It Won’t Be Like Old Times When Eagles Come to Town

I read the news today, oh, boy.

Tickets for the upcoming Eagles reunion concerts at Irvine Meadows are topping out at $115. Others will go for $75. The cheap seats are $35.

God bless rock ‘n’ roll. God bless supply ‘n’ demand.

Somewhere deep in my soul, even more so than deep in my wallet, it rankles me that I may actually pay those prices.

In a way, I almost have to go.

The irony of seeing the Eagles in 1994 in the heart of Yuppiedom is irresistible. That’s because I first saw them 20 years ago, in July of 1974, at an outdoor rock concert billed as the Ozark Music Festival in Sedalia, Mo. In the early stages of stardom, the scraggly Eagles were but one of the headliners in a 20-band show that stretched over three days. At its peak, the crowd was estimated at 150,000. A town of 25,000, Sedalia acted as though it had been invaded by Martians.

Oh, yeah, the concert was free.

Now a corporate-merger entity, the Eagles once were a rock band. On rereading my account of that weekend, as reported in the Omaha World-Herald, the tales from Sedalia make me feel almost wistful for days when rock ‘n’ roll really was the counterculture:

Drugs flowed freely, as entrepreneurs walked around with cardboard signs offering their dope. “Anybody got a reefer for sale?” one young man asked me as he picked his way through blankets and tents at the fairgrounds.

Earlier, a youth wearing a turban and resting under a tent fashioned after that of an Arabian sheik, called out, “Does anyone know the chemical makeup of Valium? Will it kill you if you burn it?”

“No,” someone hollers back. “Good, then I did have a good idea,” the first one says. With that, he prepared the drug for use in a pipe.

. . . As the temperature cracked 100 degrees, a few more naked strollers dotted the fairgrounds. The almost universal attire was jean shorts for the males, shorts and halter tops for females. As one male ambled down the midway in the altogether, his sidekick crowed: “He said he’d do it. He ain’t got nothing on but his head.”

. . . But through all this, as steady and pounding and overpowering was the sun, was the music. That seems to be the common bond among all the tired travelers, the only thing they can all identity with. It started in midmorning and on Friday and Saturday went past midnight. Sunday’s shows ended about 8 p.m.

I then noted the introduction of the celebrated radio disc jockey, Wolfman Jack.

Like a giant wave, starting from the front of the crowd and moving back, the people stand. “TONIGHT,” blares that familiar raspy voice with just the right pause for effect, “IS THE NIGHT OF THE WOLF! “

Wolflike howls go up and there is a genuine electricity generated by the Wolfman. “I WANT TO FEEL A FEELING OF TOGETHERNESS. A FEELING OF ONENESS. DO YOU LIKE ROCK ‘N’ ROLL?”

The crowd responds, “Ye-a-h-h!”

If you like rock ‘n’ roll, say, “OH, YEAH . . . !”

The crowd says, “Oh, ye-a-a-ah!”

And before the Wolfman has finished his last sentence, the guitars of the Eagles, one of the headline groups, blare out from the powerful amplifiers from the other side of the 20-foot-high stage. Immediately recognized, the song drives the crowd crazy.

. . . The air is thick with the smell of marijuana. Everywhere, people are smoking. But it is a peaceful crowd, perhaps lulled by the drugs, but more so because they know they have nowhere to go for three days and they’re with people who understand.

. . . After doctors reported that many people were overdosing on a bad drug, a festival promoter announced from the platform, “Watch what you’re buying or your babies will look like frogs.”

. . . Occasionally, the shout would go up, “O.D., O.D.” The next thing you saw was a motorized cart, winding its way through the crowd, with a victim sprawled in the back, arms hanging over the side, head flung back.

I wrote that even as drug traffic was heavy, Missouri state troopers stood 100 yards away. “What could you do?” one said. “We were worried about it, but what could you do with a group that size?”

. . . The Associated Press reported that 3,500 people were treated over the weekend, about 1,000 for drug-related problems.

One woman said: “I love the kids. They were on my lawn. I gave them water and I would have taken them inside but I live alone and I just couldn’t take the chance.”

One local resident said Sedalia looked liked a “tent town.”

She wasn’t sure what to do but said she realized she probably was powerless when she looked across the street and saw a group camped on the lawn of the Sedalia chief of police.

The clipping says 1974 but it feels like a couple lifetimes ago.

So, yes, I may be in Irvine for the Eagles’ reunion. And they may be as good in 1994 as they were in 1974.

But it just won’t be the same. Which leads me to a brilliant thought:

From free concerts to $115 a pop, it’s a long way from Sedalia to Irvine.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.