More of a 'behind the scenes' look at some of the true story that inspired THE HOUSE OF ANCHOR. You can find the book here.
Seattle, P.J. Led Me Home
Seattle, 1996
One day, I was hanging outside of the Showbox Club, sitting on the street, staring at the strippers across the way (they wore robes and stood outside to smoke), and I was seriously considering applying, but my dancing skills were more of the comedic type, rather than sexy, and my body wasn't like theirs, for sure.
In my next life, perhaps I will be long and lithe, like a model. Hope so. Maybe I shouldn't wish that. With my luck, I'll probably come back as a giraffe. Oh well, giraffes are rad.
Anyway, when I glanced up at the Showbox marquee, some unknown band was listed to play that night, but when I investigated further, I found out that it was really Pearl Jam. Apparently, they had planned some small, secret, hometown show to warm up for their No Code tour; the kickoff first gig was scheduled soon at the Key Arena.
Standing in the rain the entire day, I waited in line, and I befriended Jamie, a super-obsessed fan like me. Unfortunately, right when I reached the door...literally, right after the person in front of me went in, the management cut off the tickets. I tried to bust through, but no luck. Man, I felt absolutely broken. That sneaky bastard Jamie did get in, but before he left, he turned around, smiled, and handed me a free ticket to the Key Arena show. Jamie, you rocked, man.
I always went to Pearl Jam shows alone. Actually, I went to most shows alone. At the Key Arena, my seat was close, but it wasn't on the floor, and I couldn't stand to be away from the action. So at a certain moment when the lights flashed, I hopped over rows of chairs, one by one. Sometimes it paid to be small. I was quick and smooth. Then I leaped over a few railings and at some point, when the bouncer was chasing me, I ended up on the floor, and I lost him in the madness. Then I started crowd surfing, and I ended up right in front of the stage.
It was a lot of sweaty work, but I was there.
When I was surfing, I landed on the stage, and my head hit Vedder’s boot. I left a poem there. For some reason, at the time, I always wanted to be his best friend. I guess I thought, I bet that guy would 'get' me. And I didn't have any close friends, so I sure needed one.
Then I landed in the bouncer's arms, and the Seattle security was pretty laid back. If the bouncers caught people, they'd even help some sneak back up front. And in that city, people were respectful in the pits. They helped me up. If I fell, people grabbed me, lifting me back to life, keeping me safe.
It was chaotic, yes, but at the roots of this crazed grunge world, in the place where it began, there existed a certain element of respect and care. But this "feel of respect" didn't necessarily carry over to other shows. In some cities, people were oblivious to safety, and they were mean dogs, and they didn’t care if anyone around lived or died.
Truly, the sound was magnificent that night. In Seattle, they knew how to get things done, for sure. Probably the best Pearl Jam show I ever saw, besides Louisville Gardens, which was rough sound-wise, but it was brilliantly gritty and general admission. Then of course there was Lollapalooza 1992, when Vedder climbed all over the Pavilion and got in trouble with security. All I thought was this: I like it.
After that Key Arena show, Pearl Jam was on tour, and I decided I needed to be on tour as well. Really, I was broke, stressed out, depressed, hungover all the time, lost, and I needed to head back east, back home, to recover, but I was in denial about all of that. Instead, I told people I was following Pearl Jam.
So in a way, this band led me out west and later, they led me home.
Strange how life works. The universe uses outside sources to catch our attention, to bring us back, to help us along the way. At the time, for me, it was a band. And it made sense. Due to my weird work history and strange life's happenings, I had been around bands, small and large venues, stages, back stages, behind the scenes and such since I was fifteen years old, so for me, it was like second nature to hang out and shoot the shit with whoever.
In fact, even now, sometimes I feel more comfortable in these goofy environments. When you're fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and on, and you're helping to run a large tour, it changes you. I never really thought about it at the time, because it was what I knew, and I was so young.
There were a lot of secrets, and the secrets were respected like the honor of a saint.
Even after attending countless shows and following Pearl Jam around and living in Seattle and hanging out at clubs where they hung out, I've never met any of them in person. At the time, I thought more about the essence of their sound, the scene, the wildness, the movement, the noise, and for sure, the outlet. That was key. I had so much stuffed pain, sadness, and internal rage and when I think about it, if it weren't for that grunge era, I wouldn't have had anywhere to go with my personal chaos.
Those days, I had no real solution, and those beatings we called dancing were my therapy. Without it, I probably wouldn't be here.
I highly respect the journey and the art, but in the end, I believe that we are all people struggling to make it, to connect, to find peace and love.
C.A. MacConnell
