West Berlin was draped in gray as the band's limousines rolled through the streets. An unbroken mantle of clouds threatened a downpour, but held onto its bounty like an avaricious politician, turning the last hour of daylight into outright gloom. Faded buildings paraded by. People huddled at bus stops, toying with umbrellas as if certain they would need them at any moment. No smiles.
Vic Standish consulted his watch. In less than twenty hours he would be boarding his Lear jet and be done with this city. Most of that time would be filled playing the gig or holed up in his hotel room, with only one necessary detour in between. He was ready to be gone. In the past two days the Bürgermeister's liaison had shown him and his mates the best the city had to offer, but its façade held too many cracks: The barbed wire and guard turrets were still there at Checkpoint Charlie. A policeman stood at nearly every major intersection. The smear of paint on a brick wall didn't quite conceal the swastika graffiti underneath.
Seated next to Vic, his drummer Lenny was reading a paper containing a bold headline about the deepening crisis in Yugoslavia. The Soviets had just delivered more armaments to the Serbs. The U.S. was contemplating increased air strikes to aid the besieged Islamic enclaves. The United Nations had given up its attempts to mediate.
Saturday, December 2, 1995. The Cold War was casting a frigid shadow. The citizens of West Germany wore haunted, worried faces of stone. Vic had no doubt it was the same a few miles away on the communist side. Their mental photo albums were open--if they were old enough--to pages showing tanks rumbling into Hungary in 1956, into Czechoslovakia in 1968. Closer to home, they were remembering the Wall going up, splitting the city, never to come down.
Vic knew something of what they must be feeling, though as an American, his corresponding memories were of the Cuban Missile Crisis, of umpteen civil defense drills during his teenage years, and of his father building a bomb shelter beneath their house. How had the world become so hostile again? There had been a time, after Nixon went to China, after the Vietnam War ended, after détente, after Jimmy Carter brought Israel and Egypt to the table at Camp David, when people and nations had steered toward a gentler course.
That was in another lifetime, Vic reflected. Back when he owned a different name. Back when he used to tour Europe with his old band. Back when people listened to a different kind of rock'n'roll.
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