As a senior in 1956, he starred on Louisville’s team that ruled Madison Square Garden and has been a fixture at Freedom Hall since 1963 after his pro career ended.

He’s red and black to the core. His business card includes a photo of him in his Cardinal uniform and reads “1956 NIT Champs.”

“What I remember is that a lot of people thought Freedom Hall was going to be a white elephant. It’ll never be what they want.

“I was in the service, but made it back for the first game in Freedom Hall. The place was packed. Charlie (Tyra) broke his record. Tommy Hawkins played a great game for Notre Dame.”

U of L contested its first tilt in Freedom Hall on Dec. 21, 1956. By that time, two other games had already been held there: Ed Diddle’s Western Kentucky State College Hilltoppers (later to become WKU) bested San Francisco, 61-57, several days earlier in the official inaugural. Bellarmine played an “exhibition” versus a squad from Fort Knox.

The Cardinals whipped Notre Dame, 85-75, before 13,756 fans in their first bout at the Hall. It was in that game that Tyra, cover boy on the first-ever Street & Smith College Basketball Yearbook, tallied 40, including a perfect 18 for 18 underhanded free throws. Sophomore guard Harold Andrews scored a dozen in his first start. Bill Darragh scored 17.

Darragh, a season ticket holder to this day, remembers that game as well as the Cards’ other two wins at the fairgrounds that season. U of L moved permanently from the Jefferson County Armory (Louisville Gardens) the following season.
“Freedom Hall was big, new and shiny. We liked the Armory, but the locker room was like a furnace room. It was dirty and dingy. Playing at Freedom Hall was exciting…

“In the Christmas tournament we beat St. Louis. It was payback. They’d beaten us earlier in the season. Against Dayton, I missed a shot that would have won in regulation. But it made a good friend happy. He’d bet on us. We won and we were able to cover the spot in overtime.”

It was an auspicious start to what’s been an amazing run in the Hall, given the school’s 680-plus wins against fewer than 150 losses there. This Saturday, that long, successful run will come to a close when the Cards play their final game in Freedom Hall. Next season, the team will move into a new downtown arena, leaving behind a place they’ve called home for more than five decades.

Upon its completion in 1956, Freedom Hall was heralded as the “biggest hall south of the Mason Dixon Line,” surpassing Reynolds Memorial Coliseum, home of North Carolina State. It had supplanted UK’s Memorial Coliseum for that honor.
It was a time that predated the concept of “naming rights.” Charlotte Owens, a senior at DuPont Manual High School, beat out 6,500 others, winning an American Legion naming contest, submitting the name Freedom Hall. She won $1000, and her teacher raked in $250.

It was a different era: “Alan Freed’s Rock, Rock, Rock!” was playing the Loew’s on Fourth Street. “Teenage Rebel” was at the Uptown at Bardstown Road and Eastern Parkway, as well as the Dixie and Twilite Drive-Ins. But then again, some things don’t change: The headlines in The Courier-Journal addressed who would pay for a new Louisville/New Albany bridge, and college basketball dominated the sports page (although at the time, the Cards were struggling to build a reputation, meaning the Kentucky Wildcats reigned supreme in the local media).

Some of Louisville’s most memorable bouts in Freedom Hall came against Memphis State, a fierce rival, particularly in the early years.

Phil Rollins recalls one Memphis State game in Louisville that resulted in a Memphis player being hauled out in handcuffs.

“I sit in the L Club section by the court,” says Rollins. “The guy reached over and grabbed a folding chair from the table right in front of me.”

That Memphis Tiger’s name is Fred Horton. Louisville won the contest over its heated rival, 102-73, on March 6, 1971. The chair-swinging Horton, who fouled out of 9 games that season, didn’t make it to the final buzzer, having been marched out of the gym by police after he was corralled by an assistant coach.

Former Cardinal Mike Grosso has the rest of the story.

“It started the year before, my senior season. Our game in Memphis was really rough,” says Grosso, adding that Horton was the worst.

The Cards won that March 4, 1970 game, 83-82.

“As we’re running off the court, (Cardinal) Al Vilcheck sucker-punches Horton. The guy turns around and thinks I’m the one that hit him. He comes after me. So I have to punch him.

“We needed a police escort to our hotel. We had to be guarded there and couldn’t go out for a meal…

“The next year I was in the pros in Milwaukee. I pick up the paper and there’s this little story about how Horton had been walked out of Freedom Hall. I just started laughing. I know Vilchek did something to provoke him.”

And while there are countless fond memories of Cardinal victories in their soon-to-be former home, some of the most heartbreaking defeats seem more indelible.

There was the lost weekend late in January 1982, when the Cardinals fell to Virginia Tech, 76-78, on a Saturday; then to Virginia, 56-74, the next afternoon.

There’s the Chet “The Jet” Walker game. The seventh-ranked Bradley University Braves came in Feb. 10, 1962, against a U of L squad that finished the year 15-10 without a date for the post-season.

Before a school-record crowd of 17,347, Louisville led 79-72 with 1:24 to play. Bradley scored eight straight. All-American Walker jammed a follow at the buzzer for an 80-79 win. The C-J commented on “the atrocious officiating.” The game story also had this memorable quote: “They (Louisville) forgot the prairie maxim of ‘Don’t turn your back on a dead Indian.’”

Few Cardinal fans forget the misery of what’s known as the Rex Chapman game. Louisville alum and longtime fan Trooper Handel tells this tale.

“My most memorable Freedom Hall story is from December of 1986. We were the reigning national champs, and I had two student season tickets low in the end zone. My grandmother from Owensboro — Rex’s hometown — was my date for the annual Kentucky game… Midway through one of the most humiliating defeats I have ever experienced, Grandma peeled off her Louisville sweatshirt to reveal a Kentucky version underneath. ‘Go Rex’ she shouted. 85-51 was the final. Rex went off. Grandma had a blast.”

But back to the best of times …

Longtime fan Charlie Bensinger recounts one of his favorite memories in Freedom Hall: “My old fraternity brother Bruce Kramer lives in Memphis. He wanted me to get tickets for him and some friends for the ’86 Metro tournament here … 21 of them.

“So there I am in the middle of all these Memphis State fans, really enjoying it.”

Louisville won that one easily, 88-79.

A week before, Louisville beat Memphis State in the regular season finale that provided arguably the single loudest U of L moment ever in Freedom Hall.

The Cards were down one with just seconds to go. Tiger star Andre Turner had free throws that would have sealed the game. (It was the last season before the introduction of the three-point shot.)

Turner choked at the line. U of L hustled the ball up court, got it to Milt Wagner, who launched one from the corner. Turner doubled his trouble by fouling Wagner, who, as all old-school Card fans know, was money at the line.

Louisville went from certain defeat to certain victory in seconds. Freedom Hall rocked with an ecstatic din. Before even shooting his free throws, Wagner circled the charity stripe area, arms raised in victory. Of course he then made the baskets, resulting in a 70-69 win that catapulted the Cardinals toward their second NCAA title.

Similarly, a 75-65 win over Ohio State on Dec. 19, 1979, proved a harbinger of Louisville’s first national championship. The Buckeyes came to town ranked second in the country. U of L had just lost starting center Scooter McCray to injury, forcing coach Denny Crum to insert Scooter’s pudgy younger brother, freshman Rodney, into the starting lineup. The Cards overcame an early deficit to prevail.

CBS announcer Clark Kellogg was a star on that Ohio State team.

“Oh my, yes, I certainly do remember that game. Hotly contested. There was so much talent on the floor, future pros. A big win for Louisville.”

Another victory that makes real old-timers smile is the 70-69 victory over Eastern Kentucky, then a major rival, on Jan. 4, 1961, before 9,257, the biggest crowd that season.

The Cards were down by five with two minutes remaining, then down by three with 48 seconds on the clock. The Cardinals cut the lead to a single digit with 15 left. Eastern’s inbounds pass went off a Maroon — EKU’s mascot at the time — out of bounds. Players scrambled for the ball. The clock was running and U of L had no timeouts left.

Referee Max Macon stopped the clock, a controversial call that allowed Louisville one last shot. Here’s what Courier-Journal reporter Johnny Carrico wrote: “Ron Rubenstein looped a 25-footer from the northwest corner to nullify a great performance by the underdog Maroons.”

Referee Macon actually gave an interview after the game. Wrote Carrico, “Macon said he stopped the clock because, ‘There was too much confusion going on, with both Eastern and Louisville players grabbing the ball.’”

Eastern coach Paul McBrayer declined comment after the game, but was reported to be most upset.

The most memorable home win in the last decade was the Tennessee game in December 2001, Rick Pitino’s first campaign as Cards coach.

Down six with 35 seconds to play, Cardinal guard Reece Gaines banked in a trey to cut the lead to three. Louisville stole the inbounds pass, and Bryant Northern hit another triple from the top of the key to tie the game. The Vols came down, scoring a layup to reclaim the advantage. Without calling timeout, Louisville hustled up court, where Gaines hit yet another three to take the lead.

U of L held on for the win when Tennessee missed a close-in bank shot at the buzzer.

There are so many vivid images from the hundreds of U of L games at Freedom Hall.

Wes Unseld nabbing a rebound, turning in the air, then flicking his unique two-handed over-the-head pass to Butch Beard at mid-court to start a fast break.

Jerry King and Milt Wagner hitting every key free throw at crunch time.

Ricky Gallon’s afro.

Marquette coach Mike Deane flipping the bird to the crowd after stealing a win.

Taquan Dean and DeJuan Wheat hitting important treys when games were on the line.

Darrell Griffith elevating for a 360.

GO * CARDS * BEAT * PURDUE

Lancaster Gordon, then a freshman, running around the court, index finger raised, after an improbable come-from-behind win.

Jerome Harmon’s sadly wasted athleticism and talent.

Beau Zach Smith’s one made sky hook.

Those intense games against Memphis State in the ’70s and ’80s.

Kenny Payne’s rainbows launched from Phillips Lane.

Francisco Garcia coming off the court early in his career and straightening Rick Pitino’s tie.

Luke Whitehead landing on his head.

Cameron Murray melting down as his final season ground to a conclusion.

Marques Maybin’s first appearance at Freedom Hall after a motorcycle accident left him paralyzed.

The standing ovation that could have lasted through the night celebrating Wes Unseld’s last game.

Larry Wiliams jive talking opponents as a jinx when they’d head to the charity line.

Clifford Rozier never passing the ball back out of the post.

Bud Olsen’s bounce passes.

The Memphis State loss in the late ’80s when the Tigers ran out to a 24-0 lead.

Denny Crum’s double knit leisure suits.

The Doctors of Dunk warm ups.

The first night fans were urged to wear red.

Marv Selvy’s 70-footer against Wichita.

The evolution of the Cardinal Bird mascot.

The Voice of Freedom Hall, John Tong’s, unique introductions.

The energy of the crowd at a snow game against Charlotte.

Herb Crook slithering in for a sneaky board and follow shot.

Ellis Myles lying on the hardwood after blowing out his kneecap.

Dana Kirk’s deer in the headlights look when he needed a timeout late for his Memphis State Tigers, realizing he’d already bagged his limit.

Samaki Walker’s triple-double against Kentucky.

Dwayne Morton’s missed dunk at the buzzer against Western Kentucky.

The invention of the “high five” by Derek Smith and Wiley Brown.

The befuddled look of opponents when Smith and Brown communicated in Pig Latin.

Nate Johnson dribbling it off his knee early in games.

The genius of Denny Crum in his prime, outwitting whoever happened to be sitting in the coach’s chair on the visitor’s bench.

The celebration in Freedom Hall after the 1980 championship win.

Seeing Freedom Hall for the first time after John Y. Brown’s stunning renovation.

The longtime Cardinal home was built for a horse show, and has been home to ice shows and tractor pulls and concerts and car shows. But, in the minds of most around the country, Freedom Hall always was one of the nation’s premier basketball venues. Charlotte Owens’ moniker is immediately recognizable to every hoops fan as the Home of the Louisville Cardinals.

The place has serious history. There is the allure.

“Freedom Hall was a big reason for coming to Louisville,” says Mike Grosso, who transferred from South Carolina in the mid-1960s. “I considered St. John’s and got a call from Adolph Rupp. But this was the venue.

“The whole Freedom Hall experience separated U of L from other schools when I was playing.”

Freedom Hall is inextricably entwined with Louisville Cardinal basketball.

She’s a solid old broad, sturdy not sexy; a proud gal, full of hoops history.

I was at the Notre Dame game in December 1956, an 11-year old already more in love with Cardinal basketball than anything else in life. It was a magical night that helped propel U of L to the upper echelon of the college game.

I’ve missed only a few handfuls of games since. It has been ballast, a way of life. Get to the gym early, savor the scene, stay to the end, bitter or sweet.

Alum and longtime fan Fred Smart puts it all in perspective.

“I don’t remember what game it was — North Carolina maybe — but it was a big one, on national TV. Just before the introductions, the teams were warming up, the band was playing, and the cheerleaders were out there, and the announcers were finishing up their pre-game. There was the buzz in the place, the energy. And I looked around and said ‘I just love being here.’”

God willing, Fred Smart will be at Louisville’s final game in Freedom Hall against Syracuse this Saturday. So will I. And, like the night I would have stood and clapped forever after Unseld’s final game, I shall linger and allow the memories to reign over me.

In the end, I shall reluctantly walk away, head bowed, full with the moment and certainty that a grand experience that has sustained me for a half century will be a thing of the past.

And I will bid a sad adieu to the thrill and excitement of Louisville Cardinal basketball in World Famous Freedom Hall.

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And, what an odd choice of material to turn into, or try to turn into Big Broadway.

Italy’s Federico Fellini is one of cinema’s great auteurs of all time. “8 1/2″ is certainly his most famous work. And arguably his best. Though many prefer “La Strada” which proceeded it. And I love “Amarcord.”

“8 1/2″ as the basis for a musical just seems awfully odd to me.

The film is a dense psychological examination of a movie director going through creative and personal crisis. But it can’t be confused with such as Scorcese’s “Shutter Island,” which is so filled with sturm und drang. The brilliance of Fellini is that he presents the miasma that is the director Guido’s (Marcello Mastroianni) life in a palatable and visually stunning manner that is easy to digest.

Here’s the original trailer:

Forgetting the story for a moment, the incredible black and white cinematography and visual imagery are worth the price of rental alone. So a shout out to cinematographer Gianni Di Venanzo. The Film Babe and I watched this last night, and I’m thinking of doing so again . . . with the sound off. Just to allow the visuals to work their magic.

The film mixes reality and fantasy in a way that blurs the demarcations. What is really happening to Guido and what is only in his head is never clear. And really doesn’t matter. It’s simply a wonder to watch unfold.

Here’s another scene of performers at a dinner party. I marvel at the geometry of the screen.

I’m not going to prattle on about this masterpiece. If you are a student of film, you know “8 1/2.” But you might not have seen it in awhile. Do yourself a favor, rent it again.

And, if you don’t know the film, and consider yourself a cineaste, well, it’s time to fill out your resume.

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He even toyed with tabbing Kentucky favorite son Happy Chandler to be his running mate. Until Wallace’s handlers pointed out to the Alabamian that Chandler was obviously a Commie, having, among other leftist transgressions,  supported nay encouraged the desegregation of baseball by cooperating with the Dodgers when they put Jackie Robinson on the roster. Instead Wallace chose a Dr. Strangelovian military guy, Curtis LeMay.

But I digress. Wallace held a tent style revival political rally at Freedom Hall. The crowd warmed up to the partriotic sounds of Johnny Jones and His Red, White & Blue All American Band.

For a pinko poli sci major like me,  just there with a date experiencing America’s political process at work, it was a scary sight. The passion and fervor of the acolytes was stunning. I was convinced that Wallace had a legit shot to become president. Fortunately, my abilities as a political prognosticator weren’t very acute.

Truth is, Wallace moderated his views as he got older, especially after being shot. But he never took to hangin’ with the Kennedys, if you get my drift.

Anyhow, after taking in the latest Tea Party shenanigans of one Sarah Palin, I’m again worried. And, given the times when media can manipulate the masses in a way never before, she’s got a significantly better chance to decorate the Oval Office with a moose head than Wallace ever had of setting a photo of Bear Bryant and him on the Lincoln desk. Lonesome Rhodes lives.

Which is to say, I am seriously scared that daffy Ms. Sarah might just wink and babble her way into the highest office in the land. You’ve got to take seriously any politico aggressive enough to use her Down’s syndrome baby as political prop.

Last week, I mentioned to some friends how I’m no longer as locked into the political process as I once was. It’s a selfish thing, I suppose. I started on Medicare the beginning of the month. I have less days ahead than I’ve experienced in the past. So there’s this pragmatic view I hold. Absent a meteor blasting its way through the atmosphere and landing in Spencer County or a terrorist attack that fells the internet and thus the world’s financial structure, not much is going to happen that is going to affect my life one way or another. Okay, maybe another bout with Big C, or a U of L national title.

But, given the stasis that now pervades Washington, not much there is going to move the meter more than a tick or two in either direction during my lifetime.

Other than if Sarah Palin, or somebody else similarly daffy bobbing in her wake, grabs the reigns of power.

I’m pretty settled here in Louisville. The Film Babe wants to get a place in Florida, and I’m even reluctant to consider that.

But what if our government is taken over by a know nothing Know-It-All like the former mayor of that strip mall known as Wassila, Alaska. I’m thinking someplace far far away with a moderate clime, serious broadband, access to ESPN 360 so I could follow the Card and half way decent pizza. Like, maybe, Sydney. I’ve always loved Aussie Rules footie.

These are strange times indeed. Pretty soon the star maker machinery may just rule the land.

And what a revoltin’ development that will be.

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Of course, there is plenty else. The book has spoken to and for disenchanted youth for decades now, each generation since its initial publication finding voice in the lucid expression of disengagement.

J.D. Salinger went reclusive decades ago. Given his impact, we kept waiting for more. We wait no longer.

His name would come up in conversation now and again. Whether speaking with somebody of my generation, Baby Boomers, or a later one, there would always be a memory.

The more literate would quote. From “Catcher” or “Franny and Zooey.” Or, one of the “Nine Stories.”

More often, those perhaps less conversant in his canon but well aware of Salinger’s importance and impact would simply utter “A Perfect Day For Bananafish.” Whether they had read it, or understood it, or simply knew of it.

Which short story has, besides its wallop, the perfect title, easily remembered.

I read “A Perfect Day For Bananafish” in college. So, when it has been mentioned through the years, I would always nod. Knowingly, of course. Then maybe retort with “Raise High The Roof Beam, Carpenters,” as if to find some station among the literati.

I reread it this morning. Truth is I had no recollection of what it was about. Though I knew it wasn’t bananafish.

Same thing with “Franny and Zooey.” Which, owing to my lack of perception when in college, never made sense to me. I reread it twenty or so years ago perhaps. Experience allowed me into its world. Though, frankly, all I recall is that it takes place in a train station during a holiday from college. Or, something like that.

And, if that’s wrong, it says more about my memory than J.D. Salinger.

As for “A Perfect Day For Bananafish,” wow. I understand how that might have shaken up the literary world when it appeared in The New Yorker over a half century ago. It is stunning. That Salinger guy sure could write.

I love this sentence, the first in the story’s second paragraph: “She was a girl for who a ringing phone dropped exactly nothing.”

Salinger, as with all great writers, could fashion sentences and phrases to be savored like an exquisite chocolate truffle. Slowly. By itself. Or in context, as if dessert for a fine meal.

Now that he’s gone, the search for the origins of the demons about which Salinger wrote shall accelerate. There shall be more parsing, more conjecture, more . . .

As for me, I intend to read the writing. At a juncture in my life when I might now understand what Salinger is intent to impart. And when I can appreciate the quality of his craft.

I’ll allow him to rest in peace.

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The tuneage that will calm the savage beast, keep the demons at bay, soothe the soul, provide ballast, reduce the nerve shimmer to serenity level.

I’ve got a couple.

“In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” works more often than not.

But when I have a week like this one past with more stuff than the law should allow, I go to the source.

Marvin, Marvin, Marvin.

Not only is Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” better than a thorazine drip and a double Martini (dry), it is — One guy’s opinion — the best album extant. Sure, “best” is a fighting word, and you have the right to disagree. But, combine the soul, the message, the funk, the lush strings and Gaye’s amazing voice, and you got top o’ the heap.

Here’s the title tune as it sounds on the album that the usually perceptive Berry Gordy didn’t want to release.

Un-buh-leev-uh-bull.

Detroit Lions Mel Farr and Lem Barney among the backup singers. The strings. The soul. Effective descriptors fail me.

Here’s Gaye doing the title tune and another live.

Gaye’s life story is tragic. Brilliantly talented. He was a drug addict. He never recovered really from the death of Tammi Terrell. He went into seclusion. Came out. Returned.

Gaye, a world class talent ended up, addicted, living at home with his parents. His father, an alcoholic, ended up killing Gaye during an argument. Can there be a sadder end than that?

But his legacy — as we are wont to say — lives on in his recordings. None more magnificent than “What’s Going On.”

If you don’t have it, get it. Even if Berry Gordy gets a cut.

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But I shan’t commence a rant. I’ve come to praise Jeff Bridges.

“Crazy Heart” doesn’t open here in Louisville for another ten days. But I can’t wait. Bridges is one of my favorite actors, and it really has very little to do with “The Big Lebowski.” I’m really happy the guy is finally getting his due. Let’s hope the Oscar folks give him their statuette too.

Far and away my favorite Bridges film, “Rancho Deluxe,”  is also one of my top 5 of all time. Frankly I was stunned when I checked my list and realized I’d praised 27 other flicks before I finally got around to this one. Whatever have I been thinking?

Let me count the ways I looooooooooooove this 1975 film.

1) Bridges and Sam Waterston as a couple of scoundrel cattle rustlers in modern day Montana.

2) Iconic Slim Pickens as Henry Beige, the detective hired to find out who the culprits are.

3) Charlene Dallas as Pickens’ comely niece.

4) Clifton James as the rancher whose cattle are being stolen. Elizabeth Ashley as his horny wife. And Harry Dean Stanton and Richard Bright as Curt and Burt, the dim-witted cow hands.

5) A too cool for school screenplay by hipster novelist Tom McGuane, who was married to Ashley at the time.

6) The Oh So 70s feel of the flick. Including a bar scene with Bridges and Stanton playing Pong, while Jimmy Buffet’s on the bandstand with a group that includes Warren Oates.

“Rancho Deluxe” may in fact rival “Diva” as the hippest flick of all time.

One more scene to whet your appetite before I close shop here.

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Then they’d rip into “Maybelline” or, more than likely, “Johnny Be Good,” and even the few folks in the crowd still sitting would get up and dance. And sing along, because everybody knew every word.

There was a time when Bob Seger, still on his way up, would come through Louisville every few months and open a show for another act a little higher up the food chain. Or he’d play one of the clubs downtown.

It may be urban legend, but local rock & roll lore says that “Main Street” is named after, well, Main Street in Louisville where Seger often gigged. I am guilty myself of perpetrating such info. And, frankly, shall continue to do so when the subject arises. It’s too late to stop now.

When Seger was ready to pay his respects to Chuck Berry, he did his own tune. “Get Out of Denver” rips and runs with the same chords and chops (and similarly clever lyrics) as the Founding Father.

Listen for yourself:

In fact, so good is Seger’s Chuck Berry song that other icons have covered it.

Like The Boss, whose rendition you can hear here. (I’d embed it, but youtube won’t let me.)

Bruce does Bob doing Chuck. It’s a good thing.

Then there’s this other guy you might have heard somewhere along the way, who covered the tune.

Bob does Bob doing Chuck. It’s a good thing.

You want lyrics. I got lyrics.

I still remember it was autumn and the moon was shinin’
My ‘60 Cadillac was roarin’ through Nebraska, whinin’
Doin’ a hundred-twenty man the fields was spinnin’ over
Headed out for the mountain snow, and we was trailin’ further
All the pipes were blazin and the screamin wheels turnin, turnin
Had my girl beside me brother, brother she was burnin, burnin

On board the Baptist preacher, southern funky school teacher
She had a line on somethin heavy but we couldn’t reach her
We told her that we needed something that would get us going
She pulled out all she had and layed it on the counter showin
All I had to do was lay my money down and pick it up
Cops came bustin’ in and man, we lit out in a pickup truck

Go, get out of Denver, baby. Go, go, get out of Denver, baby.
Go, get out of Denver, baby. Go, go.
‘Cause you look just like a commie and you might just be a member, baby.
Get out of Denver.

Well, red lights were flashin’ and the sirens they were screamin’.
We had to pinch each other just to see if we was dreamin’.
Made it to London Pass in under less than half an hour.
Motor started drizzlin’ and it turned into a thunder shower

The rain kept drivin’ but the caddy kept on burnin’ rubber.
We kept on drivin’ ’til we ran into some fog cover.
We couldn’t see a thing, somehow we just kept on goin’.
We kept on drivin’ all night long and dead into the mornin’.
Forty-five and fifty when we looked to see where we were at,
We’re starrin’ at a Colorado state policeman trooper captain.
He said…

Go, get out of Denver, baby. Go, go, get out of Denver, baby.
Go, get out of Denver, baby. Go, go.
‘Cause you look just like a commie and you might just be a member, baby.
Get out of Denver.

It’s a great tune. Satisfies all the major food groups: Sex, Drugs and Rawk & Row.

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