In October of 1987, with all the craziness of school around me, I was due a little fun. So I did something I never had done before and may never do again.
Barry Manilow had written a book called "Sweet Life: Adventures on The Way To Paradise." I bought the first two copies of the autobiography from our local bookstore. I read it, cover to cover, that night in six hours. The other copy I sent to Jill.
The book was great, tracing Manilow as a kid growing up in Brooklyn, New York, straight through to his superstardom in music.
A promotional book tour was being planned in key cities across the country, with autograph signings at various bookstores. The very first stop, as I learned from the fan club, would be in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, just across the river from Philadelphia.
I found a tiny notice in the Sunday paper that week, announcing his appearance at the bookstore at 12:30 p.m. the following day.
Vicki and Chrus were an engaged couple from Philly I had met through the fan club. Vicki had her own local club. They soon became my friends, and we always had fun together going to dinner or the movies whenever they needed a break from city life. They were a younger couple, didn't seem fazed by my wheelchair and were fun to hang around.
They planned on camping out over night in the parking lot of the mall where the bookstore was located. They wanted to save a spot to meet Barry the next day, and Vicki wanted to be first in line.They asked me to join them.
A few years ago I would've automatically said no, finding an excuse not to go, if I needed an excuse. It was a crazy idea. My common sense said"'don't do it..something will happen. That's for kids."
Then I remembered Wheelchair Willies' advice so long ago, about only living once and taking a chance. I may never have this opportunity again, why not go for it? Lori encouraged me to do it too when I called her.
So I cut classes on Monday, and, much to Mom's horror, I decided to go. Of course she worried but she was slowly letting go of the apron strings. She acted like I was going away to boot camp, I told her I would call later that evening to reassure her. I was with Vicki and Chris,and she trusted them over time, as they knew the routine with the wheelchair, my transfer board into the car, the whole procedure. They were a little crazed about Manilow, but otherwise, they were pretty normal.
So off we went. I was over 30 years old. I had a lot of catching up on life to do.
Bundled up, with new book in hand, there I was, in Vicki's old beat up station wagon, trekking to Jersey on that chilly Sunday night in October.
We arrived at the mall at 7:00. The night was already crisp in the autumn air, and it was dark for a few hours already. Our plan was to sit in the cozy, heated car all night, then take our place in line early in the morning. Then we saw more campers arrive, fans equally as die-hard as we were, and Vicki panicked.
There were several cars in the lot. We could vaguely make out the passengers, who seemed huddled in warm coats. They had to be fans, as crazy as we were, parked in an empty lot in a closed shopping mall on a Sunday evening.
Vicki declared for all to hear, for once in her twenty-two years, she was going to be at or near the head of the line. She had always been beat out for top area honors by members of the dreaded Quarternoters fan club, a rival fan club in Jersey Not this time!
Even though Vicki had a bad cold, we unpacked our gear: sleeping bags, food, radio, books, and whatever other provisions we could carry, and took our place beside the bookstore door.
We got even more excited when we saw the giant posters of Manilow's book in the windows, with the sign "Appearing on October 12th- Barry Manilow.' Wow, it started to sink in how real this was .I started to wonder if I did the right thing.
Little by little other fans braved the chill and joined the line. Next to us was a middle-aged woman, blonde and heavy-set. Her husband thought she was nuts to be out there, But, like the rest of us, she was determined to meet her favorite. Her daughter would have joined her if it was Madonna, she informed.
The line grew and the night turned darker and colder. Fans from as far away as Cleveland arrived by van, as did a bunch from New England. All in all, about twenty of us spent the entire night in line.
We talked, getting to know everyone else, sharing Manilow stories. That was the common link. No sports, politics or religion. Manilow talk for the next ten hours or so.
It was almost like the video party I had at my house when Jill was visiting, only bigger, outside and no videos. The cassette players were working overtime, a rotation of Manilow albums. We swapped tapes, photos, addresses. Some people played cards. Most were too cold to do much of anything but shiver or pace, trying to get warm. The temperature was forecasted to drop down into the high 30s but it seemed colder than that, on such a clear, moonlit night.
Some fans headed back to their cars to warm up. Some sat on lawn chairs, others sat on the sidewalk with blankets under, over and around them. We had a little overhang above us. Protection in case it rained but the night was crystal clear with a full harvest moon looming overhead.
Manilow fans tend to be chatty and outgoing. This group was no different. Funny how complete strangers can bond after a short time, saving each other's place in line when they needed to get warm in the car.We were in this together.
A married couple had the right idea, only emerging from their car every so often to let us know they were still alive. Their place in line was saved and by now the group had started a list to keep the line in order, and to allow fans to leave to grab something to eat or use a bathroom at a local donut shop. It was open all night, thank goodness, and their stream of "customers" was steady until dawn.
A young girl who lived nearby stopped by in her red sportscar. Sherrie claimed to be a lyricist and wanted to meet Manilow to break into the music business. She was a veteran of camp outs, offering her help, stopping by with supplies from her nearby apartment. It was the "event" that made her stay out with us- something always to remember.
Around 10:00 a mysterious woman dropped by, claiming to be the manager of the bookstore. She wanted to checkout the crowd, bragging that she happened to know Barry for years. She also brought some distressing news; the fans wouldn't be able to talk to Manilow. A representative from the bookstore would take the book, hand it to Barry for signing, hand it back and keep the line moving.
We knew there would be hundreds of fans swarming the grounds by the following afternoon. We also knew that with so many people we couldn't expect to hold a long conversation with Manilow. But we did expect to get close enough to say hi and shake his hand. We weren't camping out all night for nothing.
Most of the fans didn't believe these "reports." No, Barry didn't treat his fans that way, pushed around like brooms.
Before the troublemaker left, as she sensed the crowd getting pissed, she said she would "see what we could do to change the situation since she personally knew Barry."
True or not, none of us were going to leave our places now. We were bound to stick it out.
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