“We just wear the same suits otherwise we’d lose each other in railway stations” – Robert Smith, Interview from “Les Enfants du Rock” 1985
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The Cure did not become my favorite band overnight. I was 13 or so when I first heard them at a party. During the next 2 years, with the help of Tim Pope’s music videos and the popularity of The Head on The Door, my fate of becoming a forever cure fan was sealed.
Getting to know the music, and the people behind the music, was like searching for gold on pirate’s treasure map. No internet, no cells phones. I would spend as many hours as I could at the record stores, and relentlessly watch late night odd ball programming like Night Flight and Channel V66 Boston. My parents had forced us to move to Tucson, Arizona due to a lack of work for my father in Boston. But I made it my mission to get back to the Boston area (a.k.a civilization) as much as I could. I even spent a summer or two at sleep away camp. Camp Framk A Day, a sports camp, just to get the hell out of the conservative-minded Arizona. And I didn’t play a lick of sports!
During one such summer, 1986, I found out The Cure were going to play in a nearby arena called Great Woods. I can’t remember how I heard – but I knew I HAD TO GO. I had only seen about four concerts in my life at that time; the tender age of 15. I had it in my head that The Cure hated coming to the US, and that this would be my only chance to see them. Ever. Oh…the foreshadowing. Being head over heels in love with a band at age 15 is common. But what I did to get to that concert is not.
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The setting: Camp Frank A. Day, East Brookfield Massachusetts
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Camp Frank A. Day is an overnight camp where kids from age 8-16 spend about 4 weeks or so, playing sports, learning to be good citizens, and singing songs around a fire in the evenings. I was 3000 miles away from home, too young to drive, and had to rely on adult permission for most adventures. What was I to do?My mind was made up. I had no choice but to go to the head of the camp and ask: How do I get to see this concert? The head of the camp was a nice man named
Dick Mcknight. Nice – but intimidating. He was also almost deaf, so avoiding eye contact was impossible. I had to look him straight in the eye and pitch my idea.
“Well,” said Dick, “If the concert falls on a night where we don’t have a special event, and you can get ten other campers, all parent’s permissions, plus two counselors to go with you, I will allow it”. And there it was.
I spent the next 48 hours running around the camp – literally – asking strangers and friends alike the big question: “do you want to go see The Cure? ” Most people had never heard of them. And of course many were way too young to be allowed to go. But I literally remember scouting the entire camp to find my ten future concert goers. We had to get parent’s permission via pay phone, and get the message to Mr Mcknight. The concert was an hour away from camp, so keeping the counselors interested was key. I remember literally begging, on my knees, for their commitment.I can’t tell you how we got tickets, how we got 20 or so parents to give the OK – but I did it. I made it happen.
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Success! My Campaign to get to see The Cure worked!
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I remember pulling up to the venue, getting out of the large white van, and seeing a limo drive by. I thought for sure that was Boris Williams waving at me. I remember walking into the venue, and for the first time, seeing boys wearing skirts, lots of black spiked hair, and various strange and beautiful people.This was it – the bridge. I felt like I had somehow ‘arrived’, with a capital A.
The concert was fantastic, from what I remember. Robert Smith walked out on a starkly lit stage, with almost no hair. The dark, brooding atmosphere punctuated by the black and white lights and smoke machines. I remember my boyfriend Jesse and I jumping over dozens of seats during the first encore to get to the front. What a rush. I knew I may never see this band again, but I also knew this was the beginning of something big for me.
And here we are, 34 years later. I never thought about how crazy it was to wrangle sports campers to a Cure show, but in some ways that was my first run at producing something. I’ve thought a lot about how crazy it was to pitch a movie idea to Robert Smith years later, in 1999. He said yes to the film idea, sort of. But that is a story for another time, and why this website exists.
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For now, PUSH takes form in many ways, one being our fanzine.
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This story is featured in Fanzine #2 – Stories From The Road, and is available through PUSH directly for $6 plus shipping All orders within the U.S. are available for $10 total. For international orders, please email info@push.arushabaker.com for more options. Fanzine #3 is also available via PUSH and via Remixed Gifts! Submissions for future fanzines are always accepted via info@push.arushabaker.com. Stay safe, and stay devoted.
