WILKES-BARRE — Friday night’s summer concert on Public Square was a real-life trip back in time.
Some 55 years after what many have called the greatest rock concert of all time — Woodstock — the band Starship performed on Public Square, playing a few songs that were heard in Max Yasgur’s alfalfa field in Bethel, N.Y., back in 1969.
Like many of us, Starship in its current form has undergone a change in musical direction and a subsequent loss of personnel — no original members remain from Jefferson Airplane.
But lead singer Mickey Thomas, who has been fronting the band since 1979, and the addition of Cian Coey, took the overflow crowd of thousands back to the 1960s sound with her incredible voice that remarkably sounded like Grace Slick, who, by the way, will be 85 in October.
Thomas and Coey sang those familiar songs Friday night and Coey knocked it out of Golden Gate Park with “Somebody to Love.”
That’s when the memories of long ago came rushing back. But the memories that arrived on the Square Friday night weren’t playing those songs of the 60s by those iconic bands — my memories were of past summers winding down and of preparing to return to school.
Because that was what life was about back then. We frolicked all summer by going to the Jersey shore, to Harveys Lake dances, and we took long drives anywhere with the top down and radio blaring as we sang along to Grace Slick, the Beatles, the Stones, and everybody else.
In the years before the British Invasion and the arrival of all that great music, there were those formative years that we all endured, never imagining what was ahead in the late ‘60s.
And as the new school years approached in the ‘50s and ‘60s — usually on the Saturday before Labor Day back — our moms would take us “overtown” to shop for new school clothes.
Yes, for us kids, that was the definitive sign that summer was over. Short pants were thrown in a dresser drawer and only worn after school, or on weekends.
My mom would take me to American Clothing on South Main Street and then to The Hub and then to Fowler Dick & Walker, the Boston Store. We would also stop at Mitchell Plessett’s store on East Main Street in Plymouth.
Oh, it was a hoot, man.
And when the dust settled late Saturday afternoon, I must say I was prepared to be a sartorial sight for sore eyes. My classic button-down collared shirts of light blue, yellow, navy blue, white, green, black, and red were worn with socks of the same colors.
And we also had a few plaid shirts — I recall Madras was a big hit for a couple of years.
But in those days, we all dressed nice for school. So did our teachers — coats and ties, shined shoes, nice dresses, jewelry, fancy hairdos.
And we all behaved — well, for the most part. But we were about to enter the mid to late 1960s when everything was changing — fashion, hair styles, manners, morals, music. The times they really were a-changing.
But we made it through and here we are today. Like Friday night on Public Square.
I wish I could bring back all those awesome cars of the 1960s — the cars that you could immediately tell what their make and model were on sight.
Cars like GTOs, Camaros, Mustangs, Corvettes, Road Runners, Dodge Darts, Chevelles, Barricudas, Thunderbirds, Beetles, Ramblers, Studebakers, Corvairs, Pintos, Furys, Marlins, Gremlins, Mavericks, Cougars, Impalas, Fairlanes, Cutlasses, Continentals, Galaxys, El Dorados, Cordobas, LeSabres, Biscaynes, BelAirs and many more.
They were so distinctive. And the color combinations were amazing. Not to mention the power under the hood.
And back in the 1960s, hard working people, many with families, took time on Labor Day to rest and to celebrate.
Flags were hung in doorways. Barbecue grills were fired up. Families and friends gathered in backyards or at local lakes to enjoy themselves and to perpetuate the patriotic spirit that is America.
We would go to Lake Silkworth or North Lake or Sylvan Lake or Melody Park or Palace Park and have a blast. We would play games, go swimming, down hamburgs and hot dogs and potato salad and coleslaw like there was no tomorrow.
We would arrive early and stay late. We would get sunburn and in a few days, we would gross out other kids when we would peel the skin off our sunburned arms and legs.
Soon we would be setting the alarm — and school bells would soon be ringing.
We would walk to school — uphill each way, mind you — and we would be welcomed by all of our pals and we would meet our teachers for the coming school year. From September to June, we repeated the same schedule daily.
When we got home from school each day, we did our homework and we sat down with our parents and ate dinner. Then, and only then, were we allowed to go outside and play for a while.
When the day was winding down, we would sit on our front porches and talk to our neighbors across the street and we would watch those awesome cars go up and down.
Yes, I miss those days. I miss living in a small town and going to a small school with hometown pride and an alma mater sung loud and clear.
That feeling returned Friday night on Public Square.
The music triggered it.
But the people brought it all back.