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. . . continued . . .
- - There were other changes in 1968 that would have an effect on the Cellar's future. By the summer of that year, the socio-political climate of the country had changed radically. Activities like making love and sniffing flowers were being replaced by more overt actions such as riots and
assassinations. Somehow, hard rock music had become associated with the political unrest of the youth movement, and as a result, havens of rock music like the Cellar were open to all kinds of harassment from the conservative media and village governments. The Cellar gained a reputation for harboring troublemakers, hippie types, and dope peddlers. Much of this reputation was probably undeserved, for the Cellar was merely a symbol, a convenient scapegoat for the political and moral frustrations of two conflicting generations.
- - Nor was this the only change. During Sampson's final days with Windy City, he could see bookings declining for both national and local acts. He explains, "Many groups had signed with talent agencies; as a result, their charges for playing gigs were getting sky high. A lot of these agencies were charging inflated prices merely to get a larger piece of the cake; they were really ripping off the bands, but what it meant to me as a club owner was that I could no longer afford to hire a band because it wasn't profitable anymore. Not only this, but the proliferation of teen clubs, especially Dex Cards Wild Goose chain, was pulling away business from me. Many of these clubs were well-backed financially and could afford to absorb the losses in profit just to showcase the bands. I began to see that being an independent and operating a teen club was a financial liability."
- - These changes, and pressures from his family, finally caused Sampson to phase himself out the Cellar activities and concentrate on his staple job as an electronic technician. Starting in 1969, Wehrmeister and Revelle began to take care of the more important tasks of running the club, such as booking and publicity. Wehrmeister's playbills, especially , are good examples of wit combined with rock-art.
- - The declining trends that Sampson saw in 1968 were more readily observable in 1969. Attendance at the Cellar was dwindling. There were notable exceptions, like the aforementioned Three Dog Night concert in the summer, but basically, Sampson was not packing them in like he used to. He negotiated with Gordon for a release from his lease and was able to secure a closing, set for the end of June 1970. "It was to be a joyous celebration of our six years," recalls Sampson, "with as many of the original bands as I could get. I was going to record it - it was going to be a real bash, and my way of thanking all the kids who made it possible."
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- - Sampson and his people bided their time as the day approached. The Shadows, Corky Siegel, Joe Kelley, the Mauds, and others had already said that they would play. Tragically, Lt. Aldrich's wife had died several days before. Sampson, in an act of compassion and generosity, decided that all of the proceeds from the concert on the final night would go towards a special fund in memory of the late Mrs. Aldrich.
- - Finally, the big weekend arrived, and attendance was decent on Friday night despite a pouring rain. Joe Kelley and his band had made it back from the Kickapoo Creek Rock Festival to play a set, telling everyone to show up the next night for a big bash. All, however, did not go smoothly on Friday night. Jeff Wehrmeister had been arrested on the grounds earlier in the evening for 'having a marijuana cigarette in his possession.' The real circumstances behind this event are known only to a few, but 'Worm' was sufficiently enraged to begin shouting obscenities at the police as he was being led away. Jim Revelle, also on the scene, advanced menacingly upon the police, shouting these now famous words, "Eat my legs!" He was promptly arrested and charged with disorderly conduct. Both were taken down to the station where Sampson bailed them out.
- - Paul was thoroughly disgusted with the turn of events. As he tells it, "It seemed like somebody in the Village Hall didn't like me. The next day, two officers approached me and served me a summons of closure, saying that my license had been revoked for the final night. They told me that the Village would provide no police protection that night, and it really scared me. I didn't understand why the Powers That Be wanted to go to so much trouble to make trouble for me, since I was closing down permanently after that evening anyway. Needless to say, I was angry, and I planned to hold the concert anyway." Apparently, the police had heard a statement that was reportedly made by Sampson to the effect that he was going to 'blow the lid off Arlington Heights.' "I only meant that I was going to give a really wild musical celebration for the final night," adds Paul, "but somebody must have
taken it the wrong way."
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- - Well, the big event was never held, as police stationed in the parking lot advised young people to turn around and leave just as they entered. It was a bizarre and disappointing finale, and it left Paul Sampson an embittered, disillusioned man. He withdrew completely from the music scene, concentrating on raising his family and keeping a low profile, For nearly 8 years, he talked to nobody about the Cellar days, preferring to remain aloof.
- - Coming out of seclusion for this interview, Sampson looks back and says, "I don't regret getting out of music when I did. Being in the spotlight bothered my family as well as myself. If you choose that kind of life, you have to deal with a lot of crap from health inspectors, the press, record men and The Powers That Be. There were a lot of envious people who looked upon me as if I was some type of criminal, simply because I was making money promoting rock concerts. Everything was made to mushroom out of proportion."
- - All of the old recording tapes of the Cellar concerts are still sitting in his garage. He says that someday, he'll go through and catalog them all as they might be of nostalgic value. When this writer asked him if he ever got the urge to go back into the music business, he responded with an emphatic "No!", but he said it with a serene smile on his face. For those of us who spent countless magical evenings listening to the music at the Cellar, this is the way we remember Paul Sampson . . .
. . . Thanks, Paul, for the memories . . .
THE END
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About the author - Jeff Lind:
- - This chapter of the History of Chicago Rock marks the beginning of the fourth year of the series. Little did Jeff Lind know when he started back in May 1975 that it was going to grow so popular. The history of The History of Chicago Rock really began while Jeff was attending Rockford College. Aware that Jeff was a fan of such local groups as the Cryan' Shames and the Buckinghams, his mother would clip out newspaper articles about these and other groups and send them to him. Later, Jeff decided to compile the material in a scrapbook. Immediately thereafter Jeff began writing reviews
for the Illinois Entertainer.
- - Not knowing if the idea would catch on or not, Jeff suggested the concept
of ChiRock. Now, three years later, and a possible book in the offing, Jeff Lind is a recognized authority on the Chicago music scene. Lind, 30, says, "People tell me I write as though I lived through it all, well that's because I did." And thanks to Jeff Lind, so too have his readers.
Copyright 1978 Illinois Entertainer - All Rights Reserved
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For Engagements and Bookings Contact:
Creative Soundz, Inc.
Box 375
Mount Prospect, IL 60056
Tel: 847-299-5522
Fax: 847-299-5534
Email: soundzinc@aol.com
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