AMERICA REMEMBERS MERCIFUL, RIOTOUS END TO HORRIBLE GENRE OF MUSIC

On a fateful night 30 years ago in Chicago, the world purged itself of an evil that is almost too graphic and unthinkable to write without the inclusion of asterisks: Disco.

“The Day that Disco Died,” as some now refer to it, began as a promotional “Disco Demolition Night” at Comiskey Park on July 12, 1979.

In between games of a twi-night doubleheader featuring the hometown White Sox and the Detroit Tigers, local radio disc jockey and anti-Disco crusader Steve Dahl led his “Army” onto the field to blow up disco records.

“I really did think ‘this is going to be embarrassing,’” Dahl said in a recent interview with ESPN. “At most, maybe 5,000 people will show up to this and I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But, unlike last week’s rally calling for the resignation of Gov. Mark Sanford, people showed up. More than 70,000 of them, in fact.

And their pent up hatred of disco turned an otherwise innocent promotion into an on-the-field riot.

Here was the basic storyline: Dahl and his broadcast partner Gary Meier were working for WLUP, The Loop, a rock radio station in Chicago and had created a group known as “The Insane Coho Lips” as a sort of fake organization to go against disco. Working with Mike Veeck, the son of then White Sox owner Bill Veeck, a plan was concocted for fans to bring unwanted disco records to the Detroit doubleheader for a 98 cents admission fee.

Ninety-eight cents was derived from The Loop’s location on the radio dial at 97.9. These records would be blown up by Dahl in center field in between games, as an entertaining message against disco.

It was an idea that seemed borderline innocent enough, with a hope for a decent crowd to play off Dahl’s popularity and another unique Veeck promotion. Ken Kravec, who was scheduled to start Game 2 of this doubleheader after the disco explosion, explains the quick loss of innocence three decades later.

“One thing I recall, when I walked out to the bullpen mound to warm up for the second game and I was looking around the stadium, you couldn’t see any aisles,” said Kravec, currently a special assistant to Cubs general manager Jim Hendry, but a left-handed hurler who finished 15-13 with a 3.74 ERA in 1979.

“Just wall-to-wall people, and I’m thinking that was a fire hazard,” said Kravec with a laugh. “I just remember the amount of people. There were like 10,000 or 15,000 people outside the stadium and another 50,000 inside the stadium, if not more.”

“We went out there for about a minute,” Kravec said. “And then after that, the fans stormed the field. I never feared for my life, not at all. Once they came on the field, it was fine. I just grabbed my hat, walked off and nobody hassled you.”

Farmer, who picked up 14 saves and finished 30 games as the eventual closer of the 1979 squad, explained how the White Sox closed the clubhouse as soon as Kravec entered. They locked the doors, and actually put a 4-by-6 piece of wood across the door that you would enter coming from the dugout into the clubhouse.

Fans were distressing that 4-by-6, according to Farmer, trying to get into the clubhouse.

“They overtook the park,” Farmer said. “They told us rather quickly the game was canceled so we got out of there. We got out of there before most of the people knew it. But the [police] had to come on horseback to get the people off the field. They just stormed the field and came right over the walls.”

“Our thought when they stormed the field was that they would clear it off in 15 or 20 minutes, and we would go on and play the second game,” Kravec said.

Instead, the second game eventually was forfeited by the White Sox, and is the last forfeit standing in the American League. Farmer and Dahl have been good friends for years, but Farmer said it has been about a decade since the two have discussed this memorable night. [MLB.com]

To call this event crazy would be a serious understatement.

After storming the field, the drunk and high fans literally set it on fire. One guy slid down a foul pole while others stole bases and dug up home plate. Reports are that one couple even had sex behind third base.

Even legendary sports announcer Harry Caray, try as he might, could not calm the rowdy crowd.

Finally, after 45 maddening minutes, police were able to clear the field — with dozens of arrests and only a few minor injuries. But the grounds crew could not repair the field and the second game was called off.