Diary of a mad homeowner

The trials and tribulations of fixing up a house filled with character but not much else

Meter Reading

Dave’s not here

David Cassidy passed away today at the age of 67.

Like so many others, I have a story about almost meeting the star.

In January 1995 my friend Susan Quintana and I had tickets to see Cassidy in ‘Blood Brothers’ at the then Denver Auditorium Theater in downtown.

Cassidy was still fresh in the teenage hearts and minds of most 40-year-old women and a chance to see him onstage was a great treat. Enthusiastic applause and adoration poured from the audience and Cassidy took three curtain calls.

My friend Susan and I both used to read the steam and electric meters and we knew the auditorium very well. We knew the stage entrance was on the southeast side of the building and decided to sneak around and maybe get Cassidy’s autograph.

Giddy with excitement and dressed in our finest, we arrived at the stage door to find four or five people waiting in the glass vestibule. The only thing that stood between the group and our collective Dreamboat were two locked glass doors.

We watched the back and forth of stagehands and theater personnel and ten or so more men and women joined us in the vestibule. It got a little crowded and security guards arrived and to lock the outer doors but lock us in.

We would see David Cassidy and meet him, too, they said. So we waited.

An hour went by and still, no Dreamboat.

We chatted amongst ourselves, sang an acapella rendition of ‘I Think I Love You’ and passed ‘Partridge Family’ trivia around like a summer cold. One of the guys in the group began muttering about the wait and pushed his way to the glass doors.

Mr. Cassidy-Fan yelled at the staff walking by, “Hey!” he said. “Will you open up the door?”

Mr. Cassidy-Fan pursed his lips on the crack of the door and hollered (as well as he could) “Hey! Can you open the door?”

Sensing his demanding approach wasn’t gong to work, Mr. Cassidy-Fan decided to take a friendlier approach. He pressed his lips on the crack let out, “Hey, where’s Dave?”

“Dave’s not here,” responded 15 people in a locked vestibule waiting for Cassidy to make his appearance.

“What?” Mr. Cassidy-Fan said.

In unison, everyone repeated for his benefit, “Dave’s not here.”

“What?” he repeated again.

A tall guy in the back asked him, “Don’t you know Cheech and Chong?”

“Where they in the play tonight?” he asked.

You could feel the collective eye roll in the group.

A few minutes later the security team let us out of the vestibule and the 50 or so people waiting for a glimpse of Cassidy parted as the autograph elite walked through.

“Did you get an autograph? A lady asked me.

“No,” I told her.

“Dave’s not here.”

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