Chapter 59 (cont.)

 

6) Our next priority was publicity. This is a student run party, so naturally, this is who we pitched to. We had a roommate who was an Art major, and designed the flyers that we posted up and down Main Street, as well as the t-shirts we sold at the show. He even got us an ad in the paper for free. Getting the word out was imperative. Our expenses totaled about $1000. If no one showed up, we wouldn’t make our money back.

 

7) Who could forget the Hot Dog Lady from Main Street? I wouldn’t consider her an “integral factor,” but she was always kind enough to turn out and provide tasty hot dogs to our patrons at the show. I’m sure she made a killing, selling to all of us intoxicated students. But the food she sold probably kept some people from getting too drunk, which is a good thing.

 

8) The plumbing in “The Row” isn’t very good. We expected a lot of beer to be consumed at our party. Therefore, our toilets would be in high demand. To alleviate the pressure on the plumbing and cut down on the amount of random strangers in our houses, we elected to rent a port-a-pottie. This contributed to our mounting expenses, but was probably a wise decision.

 

9) Buying random supplies required a trip to Home Depot. Some of the materials were left over from past gigs, such as fencing to block off the back alley on the north side of The Row. But we needed to buy plastic sheeting to cover up the chain-link fence. We also blocked off the front of the house with caution tape, so people would know the entrance was around back.

 

10) And now, the most overlooked facet of Skidfest, the charity. Most people don’t realize that it’s a charity event. ALL of our profits go to a charity. My friend worked with AIDS Delaware in the past, so we chose them. From what I remember, our first Skidfest raised about $2000 to donate. So they were pretty happy for our help, and even took our photo and published an article about our event in a local Wilmington publication.

 

I’ve got tons of memories from Skidfest(s). Mostly, I remember praying for sunshine!  We knew that if it rained, no one would turn out. Not only would we lose the money we sank into it, but would have nothing for the charity.

 

Back of Skidfest Fall '99 t-shirt,courtesy of David MuddimanI learned a lot from running Skidfest in Spring of '99. After my friend graduated who had helped me organize it, I ran the show myself in Fall of '99 and Spring of 2000, with a little help from some of my neighbors. That’s when I put my first experience to work. I remembered from our first show that for some reason, everyone liked to bring their pets to Skidfest. I don’t know why, but some of the dogs didn’t get along. Also, they tend to leave a bit of mess behind them. Our clean-up efforts the day after the concerts were further hindered by millions of pieces of broken glass bottles. (All of which I dropped off at the recycling stations, I might add.) As a result, I made it a point to list “Please no pets or glass bottles,” on all my future Skidfest flyers.

 

I coordinated Skidfest three times. And for the most part, I never had any major problems. Sometimes, the police would walk by, just to check up on us. One cop even told me that we were doing a great job running the show and keeping everything in check. I’ve attended only one Skidfest since I left UD, and it was by accident. I was on my way to Philadelphia to see a Flyers game in the Fall of 2001, when we passed through Newark, and I realized that Skidfest was going on. Naturally, I stopped in to check out the party. Everything looked pretty much the same as the year I ran it. One thing had changed though, the charity: they were donating their proceeds to the victims of the September 11th terrorist attacks, which was certainly a worthy cause.

 

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Kevin F on attending the Spring '07 Skidfest…

 

I arrived just before noon and the first band, Minos Conway, were well into their set.  Fantastic sound, great energy and really too good to be the opening band, but, that just gives you an idea of, 1) How difficult it is to be asked to play Skidfest, and 2) How amazing the lineup was that day. For the first Skidfest, I was turning over every rock and tie-dyed fabric in Newark to find bands who would be willing to play an unknown “festival.” For free, no less. The skepticism of those who declined to play all those years ago was warranted. I mean, after all, how could anyone know that this would turn into the biannual behemoth that it has become?

 

As Minos Conway were wrapping up their set, I stared up into the lattice of barren tree branches. I was transported back to April of 1990, and felt the jubilant energy and optimistic kinship of Skidfests gone by. Lowering my line of sight, I found myself visually drinking in something comfortable and familiar. The faces may be younger than mine, but they were the same faces from the first Skidfest. The clothing, the personalities, the enthusiasm of celebration -- all of it -- was a trip in the Way-Back Machine.

 

The denizens of Skid Row were generous, organized, and very, very kind. I had such a great time, I left much later than I originally intended. The genesis of Skidfest was rooted in a singular idea: to get the people of Skid Row together, to get to know each other and foster a sense of community. Driving home after spending an amazing day with an old friend, I realized just how far that community reaches, and is still reaching. Thank you, Skidfest, for being that old friend. I hope to spend another day with you again!

 

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