As the Blackhawks duke it out with the Bruins for the Stanley Cup, I cannot help but dwell on all the good times I had in The Chicago Stadium. Like so many other Blackhawks fans, I was sad and angry when the old Chicago Stadium was scheduled for demolition in early 1994. Many of us were drawn to the demolition site when the wrecking ball laid the old girl to rest.
Chicago Stadium
I made a last minute decision to grab my video camera and drive downtown to get one last look at her. I arrived several hours after the demolition crew began their work day, and in order to get any view at all, I had to push through the all male crowd to reach the chain link fence at the site’s perimeter. The bottom of the fence easily gave way, and I climbed underneath to the other side. I had gotten this far and was feeling lucky, so I walked to the opposite side of the building, where my favorite 2nd balcony seats would be. I moved in as close to the building as safety would allow, lifted the heavy 1990s video camera onto my shoulder and aimed the lens at the location of my favorite seats, intending to objectively capture five minutes of sports history.
A commemorative brick from Chicago Stadium
I’ve watched this five minute video only once. The rusty creak of the wrecking ball and chain, followed by the ground-rumbling impact of 3 tons of forged steel meeting masonry, came through loud and horribly clear on the audio, and just two heartbeats later that entire corner of the building, the area of the balcony where I sat attending my very first Blackhawks game, had disappeared, leaving only a cloudy blur of dust.
There was a sizable crowd in attendance at the demolition site that day, but no banter or casual conversation is captured on the tape. In fact, with each slam of the wrecking ball, the crowd became quieter. At first the only sound audible on the video is the death-knell of the wrecking ball, offset by the sound made by a woman trying to steady her camera. As the wrecking ball came within feet of the wall, the woman began sobbing, reciting the names of Chicago Blackhawks players past and present. The woman lost her voice briefly when she couldn’t find the camera’s “OFF” button quickly enough, but it quickly returns in full volume, spouting an impressive string of obscenities worthy of a long-time mariner. The tape ends abruptly.
The woman realized that, in that moment, she was watching a part of her past being reduced to dust. All objectivity had fled, leaving her unable to record the end of this era, the death of an old friend.
