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Friday, Oct. 19, 2001 - 11:04 a.m.

It's a Beautiful Morning

I felt like I was participating in a rousing revival, an uplifting religious romp somewhere beneath a tent in the midwest or deep south. The75 members of Red Bank's Pilgrim Baptist Church Gospel Choir filed into the theater down the aisles crying, "Everywhere I go, I want the world to know that I love Jesus." They took the stage and clapped and swayed, led by a singular voice standing in front at a microphone, running through two uplifting gospel tunes backed by drums, organ and guitar. The audience stood and swayed, clapped and moved to the music for sitting still was nearly impossible. It was the complete and total understanding of how music can move you.

Four weeks ago, I stood on line with Will, Dave and Tom waiting for tickets to go on sale for the Sun Records tribute to Elvis, a benefit concert at Red Bank's Count Basie Theater that was intended to support World Hunger Year, a New York-based organization founded by Harry Chapin to help fight hunger around the world. Garry Tallent, the bassist for the E Street Band, was producing the show.

Then, on Sept. 11, organizers of the show -- including Tallent, according to Red Bank Mayor Edward McKenna -- felt it was not the right time for the benefit. "Nonsense," is basically what McKenna said, and then proceeded to sit down with members of the community and form the Alliance of Neighbors, a group born the night of Sept. 11 to help the as yet unknown numbers of families who would be forever changed by the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. More than 100 families in the area would have a member who did not return home that night.

Originally scheduled for the World Hunger Year concerts were Scotty Moore, Sonny Burgess and D.J. Fontana, Sun Records artists who recorded with Elvis Presley in the 50s. The Memphis-based Sun Records released Elvis' material as his career took off. Moore, Burgess and Fontana did appear, but they were joined on stage by their descendents, names in rock, country and blues as big today as they were back in the day. But we stood on line for three hours to buy tickets at $150 each for a concert featuring artists we did not know, shelling out the money based on rumors of other acts expected to appear.

As the gospel choir exited stage left, the crowd gave a standing ovation, and a bespectacled, bearded man appeared from the right of the stage. The spotlight came up on Kevin Smith, the Red Bank-based merchant and filmmaker who was asked to serve as master of ceremonies for the night. He introduced two high school students, a boy and a girl who walked to the microphone dressed in patriotic shirts adorned with ribbons and buttons. They smiled shyly at the applause and appeared apprehensive under the spotlight, as children receiving unconditional love from a packed house of 1,400 people might be. Their names are lost in the memories of last night, but they were there to represent others as well as themselves. "It's unfortunate I have to be here tonight," the boy said, more happiness than sadness coming from his voice, "because I lost my father in the World Trade Center attack of Sept. 11."

"It's unfortunate I have to be here too," the girl followed, "because my brother was killed at the World Trade Center." Both stumbled a little in their short speeches, more from giggles and laughter than the halting choke of tears welling up, because -- I believe -- they stood in awe of the love and support offered by the people in the seats before them. The Alliance of Neighbors was formed to help the families of Monmouth County deal with the loss of loved ones; all the proceeds from the show will be distributed within the county, where so many workers commute to New York. Already, more than $700,000 has been raised, and it's already being distributed to the families.

As they spoke, technicians readied the stage behind them for the next musical act, and a smaller choir stood near the front of centerstage. Their thank yous complete, the boy and girl off to the right looked at each other and smiled. Turning back to the microphone, they said, barely containing their excitment, "And now, our neighbor, Bon Jovi!"

The band started the intro and Richie Sambora came out from the right of the stage. The choir began clapping and I turned to Casey and said, "Keep the Faith," just before Jon appeared from the right in a cowboy hat and American flag-decorated jacket. He stood in front of the choir -- Richie took a spot with it, occassionally breaking off to provide backup on a separate microphone -- and sang a more spiritual version of the song. Jon and Richie then went into "Prayer '94," the acoustic version of "Livin' on a Prayer" included on the band's greatest hits album. Jon addressed the audience, acknowledging, "It's very tough to find the right words to say. There's such a solemn note, but this is also such a celebration of our neighbors and our families."

The Middletown resident, who has been featured on VH1's coverage of the attacks and will participate in tomorrow's Concert for New York city, spoke of his recent travels around America and how the "same sense of brotherhood and patriotism" he feels here surpasses that of other parts of the country. "When I come back home," he continued, "I'm just so incredibly proud to be from New Jersey." Consider it a little shout out to the Garden State. They performed a cover of "Abraham, Martin and John" and finished their set with "Wanted Dead or Alive."

The acoustic duo Aztec Two-Step followed, playing melodic harmonies of 60s folk sensibility, backed on their second and third songs by a woman and two men, one of whom added a third guitar to the mix. The two main guys, though -- one tall, of medium build with white hair, the other short, stocky with his long hair receding -- looked like "what Tenacious D will look like in 20 years," Casey said. A local band, Long Branch-based Highway 9, followed, playing tunes reminiscent of Gin Blossoms (credit goes to Dave and Casey for making the connection, which I did not pick up on) and citing Springsteen in one song, drawing a roar from the crowd. Another local group, Borealis out of Neptune, then came on and laid down the funky rhythm of Rage Against the Machine-like hard rock and hip-hop.

Of the 15 acts, some names got lost. The crowd talked more and left for the lobby more during the lesser-known groups' sets, but we remained to take it all in. The Smithereens, another New Jersey-based band, played three songs, including "Only a Memory," and Bruce Springsteen made his first apperance with the Sun Records musicians played two songs of rock's early days. After the other musicians had taken their places and while one of the organizers of the benefit spoke, thanking Garry Tallent, who had taken his place with his bass, Bruce walked out in jeans, jacket and baseball cap. He lost all anonymity immediately -- the crowd knew him and responded with an ovation. The Boss-- he and Tallent the youngest on stage in their early 50s -- played along with Burgess and Moore, who looked like two grandfathers up there rockin' out. Springsteen smiled the whole time, understanding he stood with smaller legends, but legends nonetheless.

A country artist looking like Travis Tritt -- you know, with the deluxe-edition mullett -- joined the Sun Records guys to perform a few Chet Perkins songs before a folksy guy named Harry Gross (I think?) came out.

Gross then introduced, "one of my favorite singers," Phoebe Snow, and her first number was made difficult by the loud piano. She stopped twice to ask the technicians to turn it down because she was having difficulty hearing herself. Her set included the wonderful "America The Beautiful" before she introduced Joe Ely, an Austin country-rocker who played three songs. His second, "All Just To Get To You," brought Bruce back onstage to reprise the harmony he provides on the album recording of the song.

Ely gave way to Joan Jett, who played "Don't Surrender," and then spoke of a movie role she once had. "I really wanted the part," she said, "because there was this song written for the movie." She then turned and looked backstage and said, "Bruce, would you join me?" Sprinsteen reappeared and helped her with a rousing, rocking version of "Light of Day," the two guitarists sharing verses and choruses, trading off on others.

Felix Cavallier -- of the Rascals, I'm told, but I'll need to research this one later -- came out and with a piano and keyboard set up at the front of the stage and a group of singers off to the right, played the uplifting "It's A Beautiful Morning," and "People Be Free," both of which kept the crowd standing for the remainder of the show.

Because finally it was time for The Boss. Max Weinberg took his place behind the one drum set that had not been used by any other acts that night and Springsteen walked out behind the backup singers. Before starting, he looked offstage and asked, "Where's the M.C.?" Kevin Smith walked out and stepped to the microphone. "Forgive me," he said -- or something to that effect. "In 31 years, I never knew if this day would come, so you'll have to let me have my moment. Ladies and gentlemen! The Boss -- Bruce Springsteen!"

With that, Bruce went into "Bobby Jean." He introduced the next song as "one I wrote for my adopted hometown of Asbury Park" and added that it's funny how songs can be written with one meaning in mind and then take on another. The performance of "My City In Ruins" was not as haunting but just as inspiring as the one he did to open the national telethon on Sept. 21. The chorus' refrain of "Rise up!" sparked a sense of pride in everyone, I would imagine.

"Land of Hope and Dreams" followed, drawing the kind of approval from the audience generally reserved for classic standards like "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" and "Born To Run." It's clearly become a quick favorite of the faithful.

Before the next song, Bruce turned toward backstage and said, "Where is she? Come on out," and his wife, Patti Scialfa, walked out to provide harmony. He tuned his guitar, said, "That's close enough," and played the opening harmonica tune to "Thunder Road," and the cheer equaled that of "Land of Hope and Dreams." When he sang the first line, "Screen door slams," he seemed surprised at the accompanyment from 1,400 fans in the audience, which nearly drowned him out. Will would say later, "Hearing the entire auditorium sing 'Thunder Road' was worth the price of admission."

After the song, Springsteen looked offstage once again and said, "You guys wanna do something? Come on out here." And out filed the night's performers. The singers from Highway 9 and Borealis stood alongside Springsteen in obvious awe; Joan Jett appeared in baggy pants and a hooded sweatshirt, having changed already from her leather pants and tank top; Joe Ely and Phoebe Snow shared a microphone with Jett. The Smithereens' drummer sat at the set beside Weinberg, and all the guitarists brought their instruments out.

And with Felix Cavallier leading off, they all sang "Stand By Me."

When it all ended, nobody cheered for an encore. None was needed. After 15 acts in four hours, everybody was satisfied. But there was the feeling that it could have been four acts in 15 minutes -- or maybe 15 minutes each -- and we would've felt good, because we were helping. We didn't just help the relief effort, we helped our community, our neighbors. As one of the Alliance of Neighbors organizers said, "We won't stop until the last child is in college." Bill Ayers, a late-Sunday-night radio psychiatrist and founder -- with Chapin -- of World Hunger Year explained the purpose of the benefit, "Seeds of Healing." "Healing is a long process. This is not the whole process, this is the beginning. What we are doing is planting the seeds of healing."

Nobody expects anybody else to get over something as tragic as Sept. 11 in a month. It's been 38 days and we're still reeling. We'll be reeling for a long time.

But with nights like last night, when people cast aside differences and offer what they can both in money and compassion, it's clear we will make it through this, and we will come out stronger. It's the only outcome.

And I had one thought during the concert as I felt an uncontrolable smile cross my face during one song or another -- If only they could see us now. If only the terrorists, those in the planes, those still alive who planned it, those hiding in their Afghan caves, if only they could see how strong we really are. It is completely like that scene in "How The Grinch Stole Christmas," where the people of Whoville gather around the tree to celebrate. We are now gathering and we are now celebrating our freedom and our patriotism.

And if that's what makes Them hate Us, then so be it.

We Shall Overcome.

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