First concert — Leon Russell — is best for John Wallace

I been so many places in my life and time

I’ve sung a lot of songs, I’ve made some bad rhymes

I’ve acted out my life on stages

With 10,000 people watching

But we’re alone now and I’m singing this song for you.

A Song for You — Leon Russell

I’ve seen a lot of concerts in my life. Who didn’t I see? Elvis, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. I guess I still have a chance at Bruce Springsteen. But I’m a little long in the tooth to be traveling for a concert. So he would pretty much have to be appearing at Harvest Moon for me to see him.

But the best concert I ever saw was the first one. It was the day I left the hokie-pokie behind and found out what it was really all about.

Back when I was a teen in New York (1972, the year of Alice Cooper and Ziggy Stardust), I was fortunate enough to see the Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum built not 10 miles from my house. Due to an architectural blunder it is remembered among my friends as the “Year of the Free Concerts.” Being it was only 30 miles from New York, all the big acts played there just before or after they played the (Madison Square) Garden.

I wasn’t really a Leon Russell fan then, but the price was right. The Coliseum held 40,000 or so fans and the place was packed. We found empty seats to the right of the stage and settled in.

The lights went down and it seemed like 40,000 people lit up the most awful looking home-rolled cigarettes. The hippies we were sitting next to passed a cigarette to us. Apparently we were sitting in the communist section where everyone shared everything. By the time the opening act, Freddie King, had finished, I was convinced that we were on a giant spaceship that was floating in the air.

Cigarette lighters, flashbulbs and the ubiquitous light show gave an eerie surrealism to the room. I took this opportunity to go to the men’s room and my jaw hit the floor. Women were in the men’s room using the stalls. Had the world gone mad? What next? At this point it wouldn’t have surprised me if a leprechaun had ridden by on a unicorn.

I eventually found my way back to my seat. Then the lights went down and a roar went up from the crowd as the stage was lit. There was this tall guy with a top hat and long hair — like a character from “Alice in Wonderland” — striding to one of two pianos on the stage. The two grand pianos were fitted together in the center of the stage to form a slightly higher stage. I remember a black guy playing the white piano and a white guy playing the black piano.

There were drummers and guitar players and a horn section and backup singers. There may have been 20 people on stage.

The guy in the top hat sat down at the piano and started belting out “Delta Lady.” I knew the song, I just didn’t know he sang it. Back then there were always songs playing in the background, and this was a popular one. The lights of the stage showed the audience in front swaying and rocking to the music. I had never seen so many happy people at one time.

The next song was “Stranger in a Strange Land.” Another song I knew. So this was his, too?

And then the lights dimmed and a spotlight honed in on Leon as he crooned, “A Song for You.” It seemed like such a personal song to be singing in front of all these people. It was like he was telling me about his life. Again I was familiar with the song, just not the artist. But by now I was a fan.

I remember thinking, “This guy is good.”

He did a few songs made famous by other people and then “Tightrope,” “Lady Blue” and “Masquerade.” Then he thanked us and left with his band.

We got ready to leave and our new friends, the communists, told us to hold on for the “encore.” I wasn’t sure what that was, but they had not steered us wrong the whole night, so we sat tight. Then another roar and they came back on the stage and Leon strapped on a guitar and climbed on top of the pianos and launched into “Jumping Jack Flash.”

In the middle of that, he mixed in “Youngblood,” then went back into “Jumping Jack Flash.”

And then it was over. Lights came on and everyone headed to the doors. I was stunned. I was exhausted. I thought, “Holy crap, I have to do this again. As many times as I can.” And I did. But it was never as amazing as the first one. That one was out of this world.