by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley
“Everyone’s going.”
An expression doomed to elicit an adamant “No.” A desperate entreaty to swaythe immovable guardians of adolescent virtue and vulnerability.
The attempt was futile, nevertheless, I uttered those words to my upright, uptight father, frantic to dance at the 1975 S.F. S.N.A.C.K. concert—”San Francisco Students Need Athletics Culture and Kicks” rock benefit.”
A what? A rock and roll concert? Hippies? Yippies? I’ll be damned if I let my fourteen year old daughter take part in one of those God knows what free for alls.”
Pleas and promises and permission (grudgingly) granted.Performing artists: Joan Baez/Doobie Brothers/Bob Dylan/Graham Central Station/The Grateful Dead/Jefferson Starship/Santana/Tower of Power/Neil Young . . .Screwdrivers and cigarettes. Makeout sessions with beautiful strangers.
My slice of life occurs in the same era as Almost Famous. Cameron Crowe presents his “It’s all happening” rock and roll film as a head-trip down memory lane for the bands and fans. Stuck in the 70s? No way—Crowe’s affection for the players and poseurs onstage and off, and his unwavering belief that music is real, marks Almost Famous as a resonate think piece with an all access pass for its audience.
A full-page advertisement in the San Francisco Chronicle April 27, 1975 Sunday edition thanks all who financially contributed and emotionally participated in S.N.A.C.K. The musicians and the crowd. The celebrities and the corporations.
In fine print near the bottom a few individual donor names appear. One is my father’s: Philip C. Monahan. He never intended for me to discover his contribution, but like the true music fan Cameron Crowe is—I read every single silly word written about the bands I love.