The line of cars stretching ahead of us on route 303 seems endless. The maddening line of brake lights makes me want to jump out of the car and run, fast as I can, until I arrive at my destination. It hardly matters to me that we are still a few hours away from the start of an 8:00 show. It matters even less that we must endure a boring opening act before the main event, the only thing that matters tonight. I am frustratingly close, and yet still so far away from Richfield Coliseum, where my hero, Madonna, will perform tonight.
It’s August 4, 1987 and I have traveled from my home in Youngstown, Ohio with my little sister, Heidi, and two friends to see Madonna’s “Who’s That Girl” tour. This is the farthest I have ever been from home without my parents or adult chaperones. There is a tinge of danger in this trip. I grew up watching Afterschool Specials and it never ended well when a car filled with teenagers ventured too far from home. But I’m willing to risk whatever calamity may lurk for the privilege of seeing my hero, Madonna.
An image of Madonna from the “Who’s that Girl” tour
The fact that my parents are even allowing me, at the tender age of 15, to attend a concert in Cleveland is surprising. Richfield isn’t Cleveland, of course. It’s 20 miles from the city and there is a world of difference between the urban streets of Cleveland and the gentle rural surroundings of Richfield. But to parents from small town Youngstown, Richfield is a long trip for a 15 year-old and the decision to let me go was not made lightly. But the decision to let me take my 12 year-old sister? Well, that must have been made in some sort of drug haze because 12 year-olds just didn’t go to concerts, which, as far as my parents were concerned, were the natural habitat of junkies and hippies.
But even my parents understood the importance of seeing – witnessing – Madonna. And they trusted my friend John, who would be driving. And so it was that we made our way to Richfield, leaving at 4pm for the 8:00 show. Yes, it was early but you know how bad traffic in the big city can be. We couldn’t risk any delay.
The palace of awesomeness known as the Richfield Coliseum
After what seemed like hours (it wasn’t, it was less than 20 minutes) the Richfield Coliseum finally came into site. I was awestruck. The Coliseum was incredible. I don’t think the actual Colosseum in Rome could have been any more impressive to me that night. The reality is that the building was nothing special. It was a big, blocky structure reflecting the worst of 70s-era architecture, in the middle of a big parking lot. But it didn’t seem that way to me that night. No, that night, Madonna was in the Coliseum, which made it the most special place in the world.
Unfortunately, most of the night is lost in the blur of the last 26 years. But there are some things about that night I can still remember vividly:
- The girl in our row who got sick and threw up, before the opening act even took the stage. That dummy got so drunk she slept through the entire concert. Who does that? (I did, the following October when I went to see Heart in concert).
- The excitement I felt when the lights went down sometime around 9:15, signaling that Madonna was about to make her entrance. That excitement gave way to pure, rapturous joy as the opening strains of “Open Your Heart” began and Madonna made her way onstage via a conveyer belt that ran across the stage.
- Feeling an almost unbearable sadness as Madonna ran offstage at the close of “Who’s That Girl”. I caught a glimpse of her as she ran through a door to the backstage area and I remember thinking how real she looked. I mean, I had watched her for close to two hours up on stage and on huge video screens above the stage, where she was larger than life. But in that brief moment, she was just a young woman accepting a towel from an assistant offstage. I remember thinking: that was the Madonna I wanted to see more of. As much as I loved the legend on stage, I wanted the real Madonna I had just glimpsed.
- Another real moment…during the encore, “Holiday”, Madonna was running up the stairs that were part of the elaborate stage setup and she tripped. She sat for a moment on the step and laughed before collecting herself and continuing up the stairs. It was clear she was having a blast, enjoying the show as much as we were.
- The end. The last performer left the stage, the music ended and the house lights abruptly went up. It was over and no amount of screaming was going to bring Madonna back out. I stood there for a moment, barely hearing anything over the roaring in my ears, caused by the previous two hours of loud music and rapturous screams. In that moment, I was sad it was over, but so grateful and happy to have experienced what was the greatest night of my life so far.
The “Madonna Money” that rained down on the audience during “Material Girl”
So today I celebrate my Madonnaversary. I’ll spend this day as I spend most Madonnaversaries…listening to an endless loop of Madonna albums and then closing the day out by watching “Madonna: Ciao, Italia”, the concert movie of her tour stop in Italy. It doesn’t quite hold up, especially not when you compare it to the sophisticated global tours that followed. But who cares? It’s a lot of fun to watch and the music is great. Most of all, though, I’ll spend the day remembering that magical night at Richfield Coliseum.
What Would Liz Lemon Do? 