by John Nagele, Phila., PA

The album “The River” had recently been released and Bruce was on tour to support it. I had wanted to see The E Street Band for some years being a big Springsteen fan and knowing their live performances were legendary. The show sold out quickly (Philadelphia’s long standing love of Springsteen) and not having the opportunity to get tickets my girlfriend and I decided to try our luck the night of the show by getting tickets from a scalper.

Outside of the Spectrum, the first seller we happened upon had tickets in the seventh row, dead center of the stage, $50.00 each. A heady amount of money for a college student but I gladly forked over $100.00 for the two tickets because of their location, close enough to get winged by Clarences’ sweat! The concert was everything an E Street show is, three plus hours of raw energy that is the gold standard of a rock performance. From the opening “Born to Run” segueing into “Prove it All Night”, “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” to open the first (I think) encore, the audience involvement (standing on chairs for the first five songs, Bruce advised “we’re going to slow it down, take your seats ’cause it’s going to be a long night) the show was everything that is the promise of Rock n Roll.

Leaving the show very high from the music, a reporter from the Daily News rushed to us and asked “Being a rock fan, we want to get your reaction to this. John Lennon was shot and killed in New York tonight. What are your feelings?”

All of the energy left my body instantly. “John Lennon, are you sure”? “Yes, he was murdered tonight”. I really couldn’t process the information for a few seconds. Lennon, my favorite media figure of all time, the greatist songwriter, the underrated singer, the overly opinionated, snarky, just started releasing music again after a five year hiatus, better Beatle than Paul, that John Lennon was dead.

Looking at the people around us, concertgoers who hit the wall of reporters and been told the news, were having the same experience. Couples were hugging, girls sat on the curb and wept. My eyes welled with tears as I proceded to answer the reporter’s question. “It’s like losing a member of your family,” I answered in a dazed state from emotions changing so violently. “Did they get the guy?”

I continued to speak about all things Lennon and Beatle although I didn’t remember what I had said until I read it in the next days Daily News. December 8, 1980