1975-ish…
Ah, there were many such gigs. I don’t know why they kept allowing us to come back, I mean things from the altar were getting stolen. There was always the one poor pathetic geeky social worker that tried to control the youthful derelicts, and that’s really what we were. One time they put the equivalent of a half-pound of Crazy Glue on the guy’s car seat, gas pedal and door handle. Some kids would periodically defecate or vomit in or around his vehicle. What’s up with that? Go figure.