Chapter 3: Feed The World

Saturday, July 13, 1985

We were up and at breakfast early, wearing the T-shirts we’d bought when we saw U2 in February. Gates opened at ten at Wembley and we wanted to be there in plenty of time. We had no idea what the food situation would be like (though we guessed it would be the standard stadium fare), nor how easy it would be for us to leave the spot we’d settled in to go to the concessions areas and bring things back.

Once we’d eaten, we took the tube to Wembley. Our train was fairly packed, and most people had concert shirts of one kind or another. At least we fit in well from that perspective, though ours were among only a very few with North American tour dates on the back.

In fact, we got a couple of comments about that. Nice ones — people seemed fine with having some Yanks in their midst — but curious. It felt like they wanted to know if U2 had ‘made it in America.’ In my opinion, they definitely had.

It was surprisingly easy to find Emma. She and a tall guy in a leather jacket were hanging out with several other couples just outside the station.

She hugged us, so I hugged right back, then shook hands with her guy, who turned out to be named James. The others just exchanged hellos (or the like).

We joined the (mostly orderly) crowd waiting to get in. The gates opened precisely on time, and we all poured in.

There were people taking donations just inside. Many people bypassed them (after all, the ticket included a £20 donation), but we each tossed a £10 note in. I noticed Angie and Paige exchange a look when they did, and had a guess, but they didn’t stop, so we didn’t either.

We ended up on the field, well back. It wasn’t bad, but Jas was going to have trouble seeing, and Angie and Paige weren’t loving it. We debated moving up to the stands, but decided to hold out for now.

It was a warm day by UK standards, but that was nothing compared to what we were used to back home. The Brits might be hot, but this was nothing more than a somewhat warm spring day for us.

The next hour and a half or so were mostly boredom. We chatted with Emma, James, and some of their friends, but didn’t get that deep into anything.

The most amusing part to me was remembering Jess telling me Emma needed to get laid. Either James was a fool or that had been taken care of for now. I got the feeling they were a real couple, though I also got the feeling he wasn’t happy with her going to school in America. They might not remain a real couple much longer if that was true.

Based on things he said, I guessed he had expected her to tire of being so far away and hadn’t considered her potentially getting a scholarship. That also didn’t bode well for their long-term relationship.

People came on the public address system periodically, encouraging donations as well as making the usual sorts of announcements one hears at concerts.

Things got going at noon, with the Band of the Coldstream Guards performing part of ‘God Save The Queen’. Prince Charles and Princess Diana were introduced as well and waved to the crowd.

Looking over, I saw tears in Angie’s eyes. I could feel some in mine, too. I’d forgotten Diana would be here. Angie and I hadn’t talked about her. But, from her reaction, I suspected Diana had fared no better in her first life than she had in mine.

This was an unexpected moment. I had never even come close to crossing paths with Diana (or Charles, who’d still been waiting to become King when I had died) in my first life, nor had I ever expected to. Yet, here we were, far away but within the same building. I could certainly have said the same thing about Ronald Reagan (and I’d talked to him, one on one!), but there was something about Diana that made it a moment. Perhaps it was her untimely death that made it feel so special.

And, perhaps, we might avoid said untimely death in this universe. It wouldn’t be impossible. Just convincing her to wear seat belts religiously — and especially when being chased by paparazzi! — would do it. It was within the realm of things that could yet happen.

On the other hand, would that have an effect? Diana’s behavior at the time had been creating problems for the royal family. Did her untimely death help Queen Elizabeth hold things together? Could the ripples of Diana surviving make things worse? Or was there a way to handle things that would help both her and everyone else involved? Things to think about. We might never have a reasonable path to do anything, anyway.

The highlight of the first hour, for me at least, was seeing The Boomtown Rats. Bob Geldof was about as pumped up as one could imagine, of course. I suspected he was running purely on adrenaline at this moment, and that he would continue to do so long into the night. I couldn’t imagine him sleeping until the Philadelphia show was over. This was, almost unquestionably, the biggest thing he had ever done or would ever do, and he was basking in the glory of it actually happening.

They led off with ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’, a song that hit me differently than every other person in the stadium. To them, it was simply what it was: a great song that happened to be about an infamous playground shooting in California. At the time, it was a nearly unthinkable tragedy: a woman going crazy, killing two adults and wounding eight children and one adult, all because, in her own words, she ‘didn’t like Mondays’ and it ‘livened up the day.’

To me, though, it was a precursor to horrors that would become tragically commonplace in the United States. Laura likely knew of them (and I should probably ask if she did), but Angie had died before Columbine and the many, many shootings that followed it.

Another thing which perhaps could somehow be changed. It had been a particularly US problem, after all, not something endemic to the human condition. Perhaps something could be done, and the world would be a better place if something was done.

As I’d fully expected, Geldof ended his set with yet another appeal for generosity. He was followed by Adam Ant, whose one-song set was famously weak. I’d first seen Adam Ant over thirty years in the future and he’d been much better than he was now. Funny how that happens.

During Ultravox’s set, I noticed Paige and Angie whispering back and forth about something.

After they’d wound down, and the stage was rotating for Spandau Ballet’s set (one I was looking forward to), Angie said, “So, we were talking...”

The four of us huddled up together, and I saw Jas about to say something, a grin on her face and eyes twinkling.

Before she could, though, Paige said, “Shut it! Talking is not unusual!”

Jas giggled.

Paige pretended to glare for a few seconds, then said, “It’s ... we did really well on the cruise. If I said we got lucky, someone would say something...”

Jas grinned and nodded.

Paige continued, saying, “But we did. I mean, it was work. We earned the luck. But ... well, I’ll defer to the math major.”

Angie chuckled and said, “It looks to me like we had a significant run of luck. We won almost four percent more often than I predicted. Mind you, that’s not a four percent increase in earnings. It’s more ... twelve percent? That’s what I’m getting.”

“Anyway,” Paige said, “The reason we’re here is ... well, there are a bunch, but starving people in Africa is a big one. We’re obviously not starving. Nor are we even vaguely at risk of starving. So, we want to donate a decent chunk of our winnings.”

“That’s cool!” Jas said. “We were planning to donate, and we’ll match whatever you do.”

“We’re thinking two hundred and fifty dollars each,” Paige said. “That’s about £200, and we can easily afford it from our winnings.”

Jas looked at me, then nodded. I don’t think I even reacted, but I think the point was to make sure I wasn’t freaking out. Anything short of ‘freaking out’ would be fine, and she knew it. She hadn’t expected me to freak out, though, and I wasn’t.

“We’re good with that,” Jas said. “It is a lot — it’s probably more than most of these people spent for their whole weekend in London — but that’s fair, and it’s a good cause.”

Angie said, “We talked about it a lot. I’m worried about the money getting to starving people and making a difference, but Steve and Laura both say they think most of it will.”

“Warlords will inevitably get some,” I said, “but a lot less than people will predict, I bet. And Geldof is focused on cutting out the usual middlemen.”

“Then we’re in,” Jas said. “Eagerly!”

Angie put her hand in the middle of our huddle. We all reached out and held hands together.

“All for one and one for all,” she said, “Always trying to play by the rules, and always trying to make the world better.”

We all repeated what Angie had said. That was the goal. It had been the goal, honestly, since my first few days back. I teared up a bit (but only a bit) thinking of how things had come full circle. My initial fears had been of a selfish, immature Angie. Instead, she’d followed the same path I had, and together we’d built an extended family who thought the same way.

We’d made a bunch of ripples already, but ... well, perhaps no one had really seen anything yet.

We waited through Spandau Ballet’s set (which was well worth it, in my opinion — I’d loved ‘True’ since I’d first heard it over forty years ago), then took off, letting Emma know we’d be back in a bit.

We told Emma we were going to make a donation. We were also going to scope out spaces in the stands. There was little chance of finding anything great, but people were moving around constantly, and some people weren’t guarding their seats. Jas really couldn’t see much where we were, and Angie and Paige felt like they were missing some things.

As we were leaving, Geldof came back on stage, exhorting both the crowd and ‘you blokes at home!’ to give generously. I’d read somewhere that he’d seen this as something of a telethon, but the BBC had hated that idea, so he was constantly struggling with them to make his vision of things happen. He’d even (rather famously) cursed at a BBC reporter later in the day (not because of the BBC, but because he wanted the phone number read, not the address).

Of course, as I’d said before, he was undoubtedly running on fumes.

We headed out towards the entrances. It was easy to find the donation tables. All one needed to do was follow the calls for donations.

We came around the table, stepped up, and said, “Hello!”

“Hello!” the cute girl at the table said. I hoped volunteers were rotating out. It would suck to have spent your day at Live Aid and not to have seen any of the musicians.

Angie took over, saying, “We would like to make a donation. The problem is: as you can hear, we’re Americans.”

The girl laughed and nodded. Everyone else at the table laughed, too.

“We don’t have much in the way of pound notes,” she said. “If you can take traveler’s checks, we’re set, though.”

The people at the table exchanged looks.

“I ... don’t know?” the girl said, with the others nodding. “I can go find out!”

“That’s fine,” Angie said. “We can wait.”

I heard Elvis Costello start performing and hoped we weren’t missing anything big. He was performing ‘All You Need Is Love’, though, which — while a great song — wasn’t his song. I wasn’t concerned about missing it.

Elvis only played the one song, and was done before she came back about fifteen minutes later. She had a middle-aged guy with her. He looked like he was probably important in some way.

“You’re the Yanks with the traveler’s checks?” he said, smiling. “Hello! I’m Martin.”

“We are,” I said, shaking his hands.

“How much were you planning to donate?”

“US $250,” Angie said, while shaking his hand. “A bit under £200, if I’ve got the exchange rate correct.”

“That’s very generous...” he said.

“Each,” Paige said, grinning and also shaking his hand.

He blinked.

“That’s very generous! Yes, by all means, we can accept them.”

Jas finished the handshakes while he was saying that.

He looked around a bit, then said, “Would you come with me, please?”

We exchanged looks, then nodded.

“Of course!” Angie said.

As we followed him, he said, “When the request came in, they said to let them know if it was a big donation. We’ll take anything we can, and happily, but ... well, it’s new. We’ll tell the crew to accept them. I figured you could let them know the amount yourselves.”

Paying attention to the stadium, it felt like we were headed backstage. Sure enough, we came to a checkpoint after a bit. The guy waved his pass and they allowed us.

Two checkpoints later, we were clearly truly backstage. Nik Kershaw was singing, and we could catch glimpses of him through the stage curtains.

“Martin!” came a voice I thought I recognized.

“Hey!” Martin said.

I turned to look, and there was Bob Geldof coming over. He said, “You sorted out the blokes with the traveler’s checks? These them?”

“Yes!” he said. “They’re donating almost eight hundred!”

“Heck,” Angie said. “Make it an even thousand.”

Geldof blinked.

“This is terrific!” he said. “Thank you! We’ll make sure it goes to good use!”

“We had a spate of good luck,” Angie said. “What better than to share it with people who’ve had nothing but bad luck?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Yes! Indeed!”

We fished out some traveler’s checks and filled them out. This was more than we’d meant to spend, but we were fine for money. Right now, this meant a lot. We could get more traveler’s checks at any American Express office. They’d take a US personal check. Especially with the platinum card, I suspected they’d just issue them with no wait.

Nik Kershaw’s set sounded like it was winding up.

Geldof said, “Hey! While they’re rotating the stage, would you mind terribly if I use you to inspire the crowd?”

We looked at each other. Everyone nodded.

Angie said, “We’d be happy to, Mr. Geldof.”

“Bob!” he said, laughing. “That really is my father’s name. I’m just Bob.”

Angie said, “Thanks, Bob.”

She paused and said, “If you want someone to speak, let’s have him do it.”

Everyone nodded. I wasn’t surprised — if we had a ‘face’ as a group, it was me or Jas, and Jas wouldn’t have wanted to speak in this setting, probably. Act, sure, but I was the best extemper of the group.

“It’s a big crowd!” he said, clearly making sure I was up to it.

“I’ll do my best to not freeze up and look like a rabbit in the headlights,” I said.

He laughed loudly at that and lead us onto the stage even as Nik Kershaw was going off, standing offset from the rotating stage. Some of the crew looked confused, but Bob had come out on the stage abruptly before and could clearly get away with it.

“How are you doing?” he said, his voice booming out over the PA.

The crowd roared back.

“I have with me four Yanks. They offered up their hearts — and their money!...”

That got another roar.

“One thousand pounds!”

An even louder roar, and one that lasted for a few seconds.

“It’s most generous! Please, everyone: you’ve already donated by being here, but if you can spare something, please! Now, I’m going to let...”

“Steve Marshall,” I said, at a volume the microphone wouldn’t pick up.

“Steve say just a few words.”

He handed me the microphone, and I stared out into the biggest extemp round ever.

Fortunately, I was quick on my feet, and I knew they weren’t going to point and laugh, so...

“Hello, Wembley!” I said.

I got a ‘Hello’-sounding roar back.

“We — my girlfriend, my sister, her girlfriend, and me — are a bunch of American college kids,” I said. “Recently we had a bit of good luck, and — as my sister and her girlfriend said...”

I got a roar from that, too. Beside me, Angie and Paige took hands and raised them over their heads.

“Why not share our good fortune with those who have had nothing but bad fortune!”

Another roar from the crowd.

“Now,” I said, “I want you all to think about it. If you’re just barely making it — if money is tight, and I know it is for many people! — I can’t imagine Bob wants you in the poor house.”

Bob nodded, and I think he was wondering where I was going.

“But,” I said. “The four of us don’t think about it often, but we are privileged. We have the privilege of turning a tap and getting clean water. We have the privilege of knowing there’ll be something to eat when it’s mealtime. And we have the privilege of having a safe, comfortable place to live.”

That didn’t get a roar, but it felt like they were listening.