Continued From Page B3

Saurs — real faded denim longhairs mixed in among the throng. All four stadium decks were filled to near capacity and the field was jammed toe-to-toe, elbow-to-elbow with people. The crowd afield was a panorama of brilliant colors. The union jack fluttered here and there. Colossal Pop Art.

It was a perfect Bay area day for an outdoor concert. Mid-afternoon temperatures allowed guys to perform the usual girl-watch patrol sans shirts. Gentle winds blew, gulls glided overhead. The air was fresh but thick — I mean fog thick — with marijuana.

Folks began passing joints, pipes and other dope paraphernalia before the roadies had readied the stage for The Clash, Britain's collection of rock radicals. The Clash, featuring mohawk-coiffed lead singer Joe Strummer, steamed through about an hour of politically strident music that had the infield crowd kicking up dust.

By mid-evening it looked as if a cloud had descended on the stadium. The usual vendors, selling popcorn, hot dogs, soda pop etc., were joined by a crew that snaked through the crowd holding cardboard signs aloft that read: Joints. But business wasn’t too brisk. This crowd had brought plenty of its own smoke.

The Who strolled onstage at 6:15 and immediately launched into songs from their new disc — “It’s Hard,” “Dangerous,” “Cry If You Want,” “A Man Is A Man” — which received polite applause. The Who music of the '80s is much tamer stuff than that of the first decade. The difference was not lost on the crowd.

Playing beneath a giant platform with a facade spelling out The Who in three-story letters, the band swung through each period of its musical odyssey. Under lighting that was pleasant but not elaborate, The Who labored, pausing only briefly between each song.

The Who drew its best audience response after songs from “Tommy,” the successful album turned rock opera turned movie. The frenetic “Pinball Wizard” and the poetic “Underture” brought standing ovations.

They ended the show with a Beatles-like version of “Twist and Shout.” It was one of two planned reminders of a bygone era. The other was intermission music by Jim Morrison, another casualty, and the Doors.

The sky was filled with blazing pyrotechnics after The Who made its final departure. It was a fitting send-off.