Wilson Gym was named for the townspeople. Our biggest battle was fighting local kids, who constantly tried to sneak in, or fought to stay in.
Early on it was used for concerts. College campuses were the scenes of some great shows in the ‘70s. We had the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Earl Scruggs, and the J. Geils Band, and many more.
It wore thin quickly. Outsiders wrecked our new home. The “Tams” shined their shoes on my new Fred Perry tennis shorts (from my locker) Booze, dope, hell, copulating was commonplace.
The staff objected, but we were over run. My final straw was the night of the great Eagles show.
My volleyball class had been assured the gym was ours until the piano player took over at 3:00 pm to tune. As we entered the gym the tour manager said no, the piano player was tuning now, at 1:00 p.m.
The manager and I argued briefly and he stated, “Man do you realize you are messing with the Eagles?”
My class applauded my response: “The Eagles can fly in ever diminishing circles until they fly up their own assholes, we are having class.” (A la Paul Newman’s description of the Poona Lagoona bird.) We pushed in.
***The text is from PLAY IS WHERE LIFE IS (t. parham )