Well, they got the signal and Lorry was whisked inside as four non-descript vans and a pale green delivery truck pulled up in front of me. Security and crew plus guest musicians Billy Preston and percussionist Ollie Brown piled out of the vans. Then the doors at the back of the truck were thrust open and … Bill (click, click), Charlie (click, click) Ron Wood (click), Keith (click, click, click, click) and Mick (click, click, click, click) strolled out and into the hotel. I figured I got some unbelievable close-up shots. It sure looked great in the viewfinder at any rate. Shortly, I was allowed to go into the hotel since all the commotion was over for awhile. Lorry told me most of her shots had been blocked by the Stone’s security, but maybe she got one or two good ones. I told her what great shots I had gotten outside. We hung out with the cops who were actually more excited about some professional wrestlers who were staying at the hotel. When the show was finally nearing its end, the cops set Lorry up near the stairway they’d be coming down and I was shown the door, once again.

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While the crowd inside was still shouting for another encore, the Stones were making their quick getaway. I fired off another round of terrific shots before they were locked into the back of their truck. Then there was a long delay with no one moving. Well the Stones and most of their security team and crew were stowed away. But still nothing. I took this quiet opportunity to slide into the hotel. I found Lorry watching Billy Preston being clumsily supported by two roadies as the Stones’ suited, ex-FBI security chief was talking frantically into his walkie-talkie. He knew that within moments the fans in the Garden would be streaming into the streets. With a look of frustration he surveyed his surroundings and shouted to no one in particular “Who’s got a car? He can’t ride in the trucks.” One of the young cops, bless his heart, jumped right in. “They do! These kids, they got a Cadillac right in front.” We were eyed suspiciously for what seemed like a full minute, but apparently we passed the inspection. The cop grabbed each of us by an arm and ran us outside to our car as the security chief quickly followed, yapping into his radio again.

I hopped behind the wheel while Lorry and the security honcho got in back. He leaned over the seat, and in low and  clipped words laid out the game plan.
Lorry waited in line for almost eight hours to get tickets to the two Rolling Stones shows at Boston Garden in June of 1975. They were our favorite band and she managed to get four tickets to each show. It was kind of rough getting the money together to front that kind of investment, but we managed it knowing we’d have no problem selling them to friends. Well, we quickly sold two for each night, leaving us a pair for ourselves the second night, plus an extra pair for the first night. There were no takers. Everyone we knew had some kind of plans and although we would’ve liked to go to both shows, we couldn’t really afford to. As the night of the first concert approached, we decided we would go down there, sell the tickets outside and hang out to see if we could get a glimpse of the Stones. We figured we should take a camera just in case. So we loaded up a Kodak Instamatic. But as usual, Lorry couldn’t just do things half-heartedly, she went out and rented a 35mm Nikon and we read up on how to use it.

So with cameras loaded, we got into our car to head down to the Garden early so we could sell the tickets. Just recently I had traded in our old Mustang for a 1967 Cadillac Eldorado. In 1975 the effects of the gas shortage were still being felt and used Cadillacs with their 7 miles per gallon economy could be had for a song. Long, low and sleek it was metallic red with a huge interior done in cream colored leather. It was a very cool and comfortable rock ‘n roll car. Driving down to the Garden, I felt like a young, sighted version of Ray Charles cruising through downtown Macon, Georgia on a Saturday night. It was early enough to get a parking spot on the hotel side of the Garden. Although the stage doors were on the other side, we noticed a lot of cops milling about. The tickets sold quickly. Like a fool I sold them for face value thinking it was bad karma to do otherwise. We went back to the car and waited. Lorry started up a conversation with two young cops. Now, I never particularly got along with Boston’s Finest. The ones I had dealt with were mostly old, fat, mean and drunk., but these two seemed friendly enough and they certainly took a liking to Lorry. I asked them if my parking spot was okay. It wasn’t unusual for me to get tickets in what seemed to be legal spots. After having had a couple cars towed for tickets, if there was any doubt, I believed in asking to make sure. One of the cops told me not to worry. Complimented me on the car, too. Well after a while we got to talking about trying to get a couple photos of the Stones. They quietly confirmed that the band was indeed coming in through the hotel and that they would let Lorry into the lobby to get a few shots just before they arrived. Meanwhile, I would stay outside with the Nikon and see what I could get from that vantage point.
Top: Mick Jagger arrives in street clothes (that's Bill Wyman coming through the hotel door). Bottom: After the show, now in pink satin, Mick turns camera shy.
Left: Keith Richards, enjoying a Coke after the set. Just prior to coming to Boston, he had been busted for drugs in Canada.
jeff rey's
SIDE STORY:
The Kids, the Cadillac and the Rolling Stones
All photos - Lorry Doll