What is the price of a 3-hour smile?

By Ken Tingley

I tried to remember this was just business.

Hey, I was there at that Cincinnati show in 1978 when just half the arena sold out and his latest album was being panned as “No Born to Run.” Riverfront Coliseum is gone, but Bruce Springsteen is going strong at 70.

I was a dumb college kid at the time fortunate that the guy who lived next door at Keene Hall was from South Jersey. He played “Rosalita” once and I never looked back. I was the son of a factory worker, too, and I was looking for a different life in a different place. And this scrawny kid with the long hair was giving me hope.

The bond was formed.

When the double album “The River” came out in the fall of 1980, I stayed up all night in Plattsburgh listening to every word with one of my friends. My friend is gone, but Bruce is still here.

I’ve sat at the back of the Carrier Dome where the acoustics were terrible, three rows from the top of old Giants Stadium where Bruce was a dot on the stage.

My brother and I erupted in delirious exultation when Springsteen opened his Montreal show with “Promised Land.”  Over the next three hours we pushed and maneuvered until we were up close to the stage. This was our “Promised Land.”

Once in Albany, I used my press connections to get a great seat stage left where I could almost touch the great saxophonist Clarence Clemons. Clarence is gone, but Bruce is still playing.

I’ve seen shows in Boston, Hartford, Rochester, Pittsburgh, Cleveland and three shows in 10 days at the Meadowlands.

When my boy was a baby, we could only get my son to sleep at night to soft sounds of “Philadelphia.” And 10 years later, I introduced him to “The Boss” at SPAC. He fell asleep on the lawn that night. When he came back several years later, he was “Dancing in the Dark” too.

The author with his son at Bruce Springsteen’s Sept. 11, 2017 concert in Pittsburgh.

During Springsteen’s last tour, I flew to Pittsburgh to meet my son for a four-hour marathon that ended close to midnight. My son had a 90-minute drive back to college and a 6 a.m. swim practice the next day. He told me later it was worth it. I guess I raised him right.

I’ve read two or three biographies about “The Boss.” I’ve seen him on Broadway. And he’s on the short list for people I’d like to have over for dinner.

One woman at work once asked why?

What was it about Springsteen?

What was it that drove such passion in me?

I thought for a minute, but then it came easily. Springsteen’s music gives me hope. It is that simple.  At least once in every Springsteen show I pause and look around at those around me. Their expressions, I suspect, are a lot like mine. It is a cross between contented and unadulterated joy frozen for hours at a time.

That first Springsteen ticket cost me was $7.75. It is framed underneath those twin covers of Time and Newsweek that put Bruce on the music map after “Born to Run.”

So there I was last Friday staring at the computer screen where tickets were going for $500 to $1000 in Albany

.

It was something new for a Springsteen ticket. It was called “demand driven dynamic pricing.” It was supposed to cut down on the secondary market - the scalpers - for tickets and allow artists to reap some of the benefits of that market.

But in practice, that demand for tickets in the opening minutes sent prices soaring and unreachable for many loyal fans. There was no set ticket price. It was about the demand.

Springsteen fans reacted in horror. Their working-class hero had betrayed them and  sold out for the money.

I registered for the pre-sale and was chosen. When I was let into the queue shortly after tickets went on sale, I was told there were 2,000 ahead of me. About 10 minutes later, I was allowed in to choose my tickets.

I knew the prices were going to be high. But I’m 65 and Bruce is 70. How many more chances was I going to have?

I set a price limit of $350 a ticket.

The floor tickets were over $1,000 when I checked. So were the tickets on the side close to the stage. With time ticking on the clock, I went to the corner of the arena near the stage where I had sat before. Each ticket was going for $307.90. The ticket price was $249.50 with a fee of $58.40.

I grabbed them.

It was just business I told myself.

After the howls of protest over several days, Springsteen’s manager defended the pricing. He said it was “on par with others.”

Jon Landau, who once called Springsteen the future of rock and roll, said, “I believe that in today’s environment, that is a fair price to see someone universally regarded as among the very greatest artists of his generation.”

I could not disagree.

Last night, I went back and checked on the prices for the show in Albany. In the same section and one row behind where my tickets are, the ticket price was $881. I was feeling a little better about what I paid.

But I also started thinking about what Landau said.

And I remembered all those shows with all those contented smiling faces in the audience.

As I was walking to my car after the Cincinnati show on Sept. 10, 1978, I remember saying out loud,  “I can’t wait to see another one of Bruce’s shows.”

I’ve felt that way leaving every one of his shows.

I guess we all have our price for a three-hour smile?

After 27 shows, I know I’ve never been disappointed and I doubt I will again. I think I’m getting a bargain.

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