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It’s always been about backstage access. How do you get there? Climb a wall? Follow the shiny bus? Make promises you’d rather not keep with a security guard? Bare a breast? Pretend you’re with the band? The backstage is a fortress, each inner door demanding a further credential of access. Back in the ’60s everyone was “with the band” - you were a part of the scene just by BEING THERE, but as bands multiplied, records sold and crowds grew - your chance of entry grew dim.
Bill Graham was a fortress tyrant - climbing rooftops and stalking the dark recesses to catch any ballsy intruder, yet he admired the “chutzpa”, and in the end - as he did for a young Carlos Santana - he might just let your skinny ass in. You never know where one door might lead…