Finders Keepers

          Finders Keepers

Suzanne Marsh

I was part of the cleanup crew at Shea’s Stadium, when the Beagles played there. The year was 1963, I was working to earn money for college. The cleanup crew required five, my friend Toni, told me there was one spot. I needed the money, so I took the job. No one prepared me for the mess after a concert but that is where the story begins. What a mess, popcorn boxes, crumbled and discarded. Confetti, in rainbow colors, predominately blue, guess one of the Beagles liked blue, who knows. Plastic glasses, pop and beer depending on the age group. The seats at the stadium are wooden, with bubble gum stuck underneath the seats. Teenagers, especially girls are such slobs, of course that is coming from a teenage boy of nineteen. From the moment the Beagles came on stage, I don’t think those girls ever stopped screaming. By the end of the concert, I was pretty sure I was going to be deaf for the rest of my life. The amplifiers were turned up to maximum strength, making the Beagles even louder.

It was one of those hot, humid summer days, the day of the Beagles Concert. Fans had begun to line up before dawn. I thought I was a hot college jock, but those teeny boppers had other thoughts, hopelessly devoted to the Beagles. I simply could not understand what made these girls drawn to guys who must have assumed the identity of the breed of dog they named the group-Beagles. I watched, fascinated as more and more teens appeared to hear this group. Mulling through my thoughts I was jarred by the announcer:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Beagles”

Four young men came running out, the crowd went insane before they even picked up their electric guitars and the drummer even got to his drums.

The voice continued:

“Hector, Maximum and Minimum on guitar and Dinger on the drums, once again The Beagles.”

The music began as the crowd roared with excitement. For the next hour, I was sure I was going to be deaf, the noise was so intense. Popcorn flew in the air as they sang their hit song Sundays and Mondays are gripping my mind. The entire stage was lit up like a Christmas tree as the Beagles left the stage.

Now it was the cleanup crews chance. In our white uniforms we began to sweep. The confetti was almost knee deep. There were crushed soda cans, plastic beer glasses. One area of the stadium smelled like a brewery. I wondered how people could make such a huge mess. I stepped over several empty beer glasses, then took out my handy dandy pick and began to pick up the glasses putting them in a garbage bag. One of the guys got a shovel and began to shovel the confetti into garbage bags.

Very seldom do I find anything worth saving but today was about to change that forever. There were always small things that bands left behind, like guitar picks and such. I scooped up one of those, thinking again of the Beagles. I like rock and roll as much as the next person but this was not rock and roll this was howl and yell. My ears at this point were still ringing from the finale. I could still smell the odor from the fireworks display that ended the show. I continued to pick up cans and plastic glasses when I noticed something strange. There was a leather shoe, I took it to my supervisor. He took it to the stage manager, who laughed:

“I think this belongs to Dinger, some crazy grabbed his and took his shoe right off the poor

poor guy’s foot. If that is not crazy, I don’t know what is. Thanks for returning it I see

that Dinger gets his shoe back.”

The supervisor told me that word for word. I was still picking up cans when I came upon a strange looking object. It was some sort of patch; I knew that could not belong to one of the Beagles. I picked it up and looked at it more closely, it looked like some sort of army patch. I decided I would take it over to Fort Dix and let them sort it out. Vietnam was just beginning to become a full police action.

While walking through a pile of confetti, I noticed a shiny object, there was finger attached to it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yell for help or just get out of there and hope someone else found the object.

I stooped down and swept away the confetti; then I screamed for help. My supervisor came running, several the crew came running:

“Hey, what are you screaming about.”

I pointed at the hand:

“I didn’t know what to do.” The supervisor, quick bent down, he moved aside more confetti. It was a girl, she looked to be maybe seventeen. She lay face down on the concrete. I ran to the closest phone as directed by the supervisor and called the police for help. Sirens began blaring and blue lights swirling as the emergency vehicles arrived. The ambulance and its crew jumped out and ran toward where we stood.

“What have you got?”

The supervisor, moved aside, so the ambulance crew could see.

“I can’t be sure, but I think she may still be breathing. We think she might have gotten

trampled in the rush of folks leaving the stadium.”

The crew began to check her vital signs, the captain of the squad yelled:

“Get me some smelling salts, and a tank of O2. Yeah, she was trampled, see her hands

someone stepped on her hand.

They worked on the girl for almost forty five minutes, she became responsive but was really disoriented. She had no idea, what happened other than being dragged along with the crowd. The ambulance took her to Bellevue for treatment. I was glad I found her when I did but bummed out over something like this happening. Since that time, I have become a doctor, I think I would rather clean wounds than confetti. I married the girl that I rescued that day.