University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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The Graham Nash Opening Kathy and I quickly throw open our sleeping bags and sit down under the window of the info booth to wait for the passes to be distributed. By 8:30 the line is huge, and the lounge is stuffed with students hoping to get invitations. At ten a.m., as the first prized passes are being handed out. Marc Vitale steps from the pages of Gentle- men ' s Quarterly clad in a perfectly tailored navy-blue, European-cut suit, and scurries through the Benson foyer. Paul is walking next to him, struggling to keep pace with the small man ' s brisk walk. As they pass, I hear Vitale say, Absolutely not! He is a collector! A Collector! At 10:15, invitation in hand, and swathed in weary jubilation, I head back to Campisi for some sleep. As I crawl into bed, Nash and I revive our nearly aborted conversation. His eyes are blue. Mike has also been having difficulties obtaining an invitation. But the Wednes- day night before the Opening, he comes into my room, flops down on my sofa, closes his eyes, and heaves a massive sigh. I ' m in, he says, and looks at me, a mischievous smile of victory crawling over his face. Dianne is filming it for her T.V. class. I ' m gonna be her cameraman. I extend my hand to him, and we shake. The afternoon of the Opening, I run into Dianne in the Bronco Corral. She is dressed to the teeth — jewelry, lipstick, the works. I approach her to ask the reason, but never get the chance. I met him! she exclaims, as she rips into a bag of Cheetos. Where? I ask, immediately compre- hending who him is. She hurriedly swallows a mouthful of Coke. Press conference this afternoon, she blurts. Really nice. — And cute! Her eyes widen and she nods for added emphasis. Really cute. At 4:30 that afternoon, I head over to my room and begin getting ready for the Opening. Dave won ' t be over to pick me up until 6:30, but I figure I ' ll need at least that ' much time to shampoo, shower, curl, press, dress, paint and primp. Walking down the hall, I can hear at least four different stereos blasting CSN . , I open my door and find Kathy drying her hair, singing along to a song from CSN : find a way to reach her, make yourself a fool. . .do it with a little class, disregard the rules. . . Hi! she yells over the music and dryer. Take a look at my new dress! She gestures to the window, where a daringly low-cut pale-blue formal hangs, shimmering wildly. I tell her it ' s beauti- ful, silently wondering what has happened to her usually conservative taste in clothes. Christ, Kath, it must ' ve cost you an arm and a leg. She winces at the comment. Yeah, she says, but I figure, how {continued on next page) 26

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the fact that he ' d probably relinquish paternal rights to his first-born son in exchange for a pass to the event. Paul ' s assenting nods cut my argument short. He explains that Marc Vitale wants to concentrate on Graham Nash: The Collec- tor, not Graham Nash: The Rock Star, and is demanding that absolutely no mention be made of Nash ' s musical background. Since Mike writes rock reviews, Vitale refuses to let him review the Opening. Paul then informs me that I, too, have been deemed unsuitable for the task since I once co-wrote a review with Mike. Paul says he ' s sorry, but Dianne will be writing the review. Two weeks later, I ' m at the end of my rope. The gallery has only allotted The Santa Clara three passes, and since I ' m not review- ing the Opening, I won ' t be getting one. I ' ve asked a few people about the possibility of finding me a pass, but the story is the same everywhere: there simply are none to be had. Rumor has it that Linda Ronstadt, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne, and possibly Jesus Christ himself will be at the Opening. I have to get an invitation — but how? The vision of Nash and I chatting is rapidly fading. At one a.m. the morning of October 3rd, my roommate Kathy and I carry our sleeping bags into the Red Lounge and settle down for the night to await morning and the line for invitations. Soon we are joined by two other people. When we awaken at 6:30 a.m. to the sounds of maintenance men. ou r ranks have swelled to seven. {contiriued on next page) 25

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p many chances am I gonna get to meet Graham Nash? Can I borrow your rhinestone earrings? ' ' 27