You gotta hand it to Terry Knight. He never lost his touch Two weeks before the event, full page ads ran in most of the New York entertainment sections, announcements of the impending occasion with big Sold Out's plastered gleefully on top. Within five minutes of each new development, everybody knew that the tickets had gone within seventy two hours; that kids had camped before the boxoffice days before their scheduled openings; that extra lines had to be added all during the first morning; that the ticket sellars had “never seen anything like it in all their years” o,f working at Shea.

And, lest it might have been missed in the wake of the usual round of strikes, murders, Paris negotiations, and controversy about the DeMartino family’s epic battle to keep baby Lenore, that a press conference called by Terry in late May to announce Grand Funk’s big date had a grand total of six attendees, with one leaving in the middle as if to prove an obvious point. “It’s the grossest case of nonrecognition in the history of the business,” he wailed to (among others) W. Stewart Pinkerton Jr. of the Wall Street Journal. “How do we get press on a group that doesn’t drop their pants or get busted?”