Just as Keller, I was blessed to be at every Deer Creek show the band ever performed, even though to the best of my knowledge, I never met him there. Perfect attendance was quite a feat, given the circumstances, particularly in consideration of the first show.

The first performance at Deer Creek was personally pre-GPS, pre-cell phone, pre-Google maps, and it wasn’t until I actually arrived at the tiny crossroads general store that I finally realized that the Deer Creek Music Theater was not located in Deer Creek, Indiana. A kindly older gentleman looking every bit the archetype of an Indiana corn farmer patiently explained for what must have been at least the hundredth time the zig-zag path back northwards to Noblesville.

As lucky as I may have been to make all of those DC shows, whatever curse it was that hung over this particular tour was about to make the full extent of its evil known. Deer Creek had started out as a very friendly venue with a laid back and accommodating attitude. By the end, that attitude had soured.

There was a distinctive shift in the energy of the shows as time went on. More drunks, more violence, more trash, more vandalism, more talking during quiet passages, more shouting over loud passages, less peace, less respect, less sharing, less caring—in short—more darkness. Thus, despite our own disdain for the use of the term, it was not uncommon for us to refer to “those people” as “In the Darkers.”

The lot was packed with people looking for miracles—clearly far more were present than the relatively small venue could hold.

Only one entrance was open for this show and security was checking nearly everyone with metal detectors, and a groping pat down. After making it through the security check, everyone was paraded past uniformed police officers restraining dogs on their leashes.

The venue staff was kind enough to allow those without tickets to gather around a pond on the backside of the hill, coolers and blankets and all. Although they could not see the show, reports were that the sound quality was not all that bad.

“Here Comes Sunshine” is such a metaphorical opener, and for the normally bucolic and pastoral Creek, it seemed a fine way to start. Again in retrospect, The Dire Wolf collecting his due haled as yet another harbinger—the deck did indeed seem to be stacked against us.

The sun was setting as the last strains of Broken Arrow settled in with the end of the day. The stories about what happened then are amazingly consistent. One guy—just one guy—began to charge up the backside of the hill towards the fence. Security and law enforcement gave chase. But so many staff left their posts to join the chase that the ticketless masses at the base of the hill perceived that the odds of any given individual being stopped, let alone apprehended, were almost nil.

The incendiary spread of the mob mentality is clearly evident in the video posted on the Internet (YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzuMCVVKLPk). Amidst cheers, dozens and dozens of people charge up the hill pell-mell. They clamber up a fence far too weak to support their combined weight.

The fence begins to collapse as people jump and fall to the ground. There was at least one report of a person being injured in a fall with a bloody face. Others began to tear planks away from the fence.

Some of those who made it over or through the fence knew that they would have to disappear quickly into the crowd to evade ejection and/or arrest, so they recklessly tore down the hill through the capacity crowd. There was a story of a mother scooping up a young child in an attempt to avoid injury by the berserk as others nearby tried to form a human barricade around mother and child to prevent injury.

Another woman had to be physically protected by her boyfriend when the mob nearly trampled her after she stumbled. Despite the destruction and the dangers, some of the crowd inside the venue reacted by cheering on the crashers. There were a few boos, but most of the audience stood in silent disbelief as the lyrics of Desolation Row hung over the chaos in an ironic accompaniment: “And the riot squad they’re restless, They need somewhere to go…”

Outside, security and law enforcement attempted to restore order, reportedly some of whom used too much zeal in their efforts. Allegedly, a young girl was beaten with Billy-clubs by three cops even though she was helpless and screaming. Some of the crowd then responded by throwing bottles at some of the law enforcement officers. Eventually, some of the officers—reportedly state troopers—responded with tear gas.

The house lights were left on for the rest of the evening. Helicopters circled overhead with spotlights. Police dogs could be heard from the lawn.

Another person in attendance said that after he and his girlfriend used the restroom during set break they could not make it back to their spot on the lawn with their friends due to the excessive amount of people inside the venue.

“And the only sound that’s left, After the ambulances go, Is Cinderella sweeping up, On Desolation Row”

When we left the show there were police standing there in riot gear, with dogs at the ready as tear gas canisters were scattered about on the ground.

“Right now I can’t read too good, Don’t send me no more letters no, Not unless you mail them, From Desolation Row”

I had previously witnessed a gate crashing incident, in Indianapolis of all places. Who remembers the Who?—not enough apparently. However, this was for me, Ivan, and a large number of us, the abomination of desolation standing in the holy place.