Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

From a distance, you can see I.M. Pei’s elegant trademark, the three story glass pyramid and white steel pipe elegance of the façade to this unique facility, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,in Cleveland,Ohio.. The portion of the building that faces the Science center is a spiraling ramp, similar in design to that of the Guggenheim Museum of Art in N.Y. City. The overall effect is light, airy and beautiful. The backdrop, as if crafted on an artist’s easel, is an azure blue sky with high puffy clouds and the white froth of Lake Erie rollers. A large sized Lake Freighter, that serves as a nautical museum, also sits in the background, as if to complete the motif that weds the facility to its setting.

A large circular forecourt, with floral arrangements, are the introduction to this six story monument to 20th century music in America. A line of visitors was already formed up at 9:45 A.M, waiting for the 10:00 opening. I had mixed emotions going into the building. Mental pictures of Elvis’s undershorts or Jim Morrison’s sneakers didn’t really do much for me. I was to be rather pleasantly surprised.

We walked through the glass and steel lobby and then rode down a long escalator to the basement of the complex. There, we stood in line and were admitted to the first of two short films in the “spirit train.” The concept was designed to mentally transport patrons back in time, through sights and sounds and music, to a rural bucolic America that existed before there ever was a “Rock and Roll.” The short films, in two separate rooms of padded and air conditioned comfort, take you back musically and visually to the turn of the century and the rural South. They draw a subtle thread through the influences of poverty and segregation that gave rise to the Blues, American jazz, country western and finally culminate in the musical eruption of “Rock & Roll” in the late 1950’s.

The journey was both nostalgic and educational. I hadn’t realized that so much of the American psyche is reflected in our music. And the very heart and soul of that experience is African American. The life influences and spiritual tenor of these Americans, who had seen so much privation, is a decided acoustical subtext woven throughout the soul of American music.

After the short films, we stopped at an interactive video kiosk. It had twin sets of headphones for listening to music selections.With the touch of a finger, you could summon the sounds on any decade in the twentieth century and listen to prominent musical artists from that era. Roy Acuff, Johnny Cash, The Beachboys, The Beatles and Simon & Garfunkle all crystallized in my headsets and set off waves of nostalgia with all of the events that I associate with each. We are told that humans are a visually oriented animal, but the waves and waves of nostalgia are most easily summoned for me by the artful poly-euphony of fine music in its many forms. We enjoyed the stop immensely.

Next, we wandered amidst the static exhibits of guitars and costumes worn by the musically famous throughout the decades. John Lennon’s and Jim Morrison’s guitars stood mutely along side of the musical effluvia of many performers whose names had once graced the neon framed bill boards as musical immortals. Curiously, anything associated with the famous became an object of interest as well. John Lennon’s grammar school swim certificate, his British passport and hundreds of other life’s minutiae stood ready for inspection by the curious.

Several televisions played continuous loops of tapes showing the various preachers and politicians who had condemned rock and roll as a societal menace whose power to cause moral degeneration was inspired by the devil. It seems a little hysterical now, but I remember the wave of adult revulsion inspired by the bizarre new musical style in the 50’s. Elvis’s hip gyrations were then considered as unfit for television. Now days, that wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.

The central spiraling shaft of the building rose six stories through the glass pyramid. Each level had small exhibits to different musical genres. On the third floor, behind the modest appellation “Hall of Fame,” stands a unique experience. A large semi-circular screen, with three separate images on the three enormous screens, plays a 35 minute rendition of sights and sounds portraying the inductees of the Hall of Fame, by inducted class, from 1989 to the present.

The images for me were powerful. The most recognizable of musical melodies, from several decades, blared around and through us in a wave of sound that made the walls tremble. The sight and sound of Elvis, Rick Nelson, Paul McCartney, Louis Armstrong and a decades long cavalcade of musical super stars unleashed for me an internal font of memories and associations that was both pleasing and painful. The dam of life’s memory had been pierced, for me, by a powerful wave of sights and sounds that momentarily stunned me. It is somewhat like sitting in a time machine and whirling through the ages, at warp speed, slowing only now and then to capture a fleeting image of the past. You have to see this. It is the heart and soul of the museum.

The images came to an end and as we exited, we walked along a curved wall that was covered with raised images of the signatures of the hall inductees and the various groups that they belonged to. I found it interesting, like walking by a war memorial to those who had gone before us in some great crusade. A cafeteria occupied the rest of the floor and I imagined the specialties were or should be French fries and cheese burgers with cokes. At least that seems like what most people who came here would like.

We followed the escalators to the fifth floor and there, we found an enclosed and winding stair case that led us up to the Valhalla of the complex. It is a sixth floor chapel devoted exclusively to “The King,” Elvis Presley. Costumes, guitars, pictures and images of the “King,” at every age, surrounded one in quiet and regal splendor. Army uniforms, of a smiling and younger Elvis, fought for your attention with report cards from his youth. It was of mild interesting to me, but I saw others who sat quietly and paid reverence to the memories and images that moved them. Elvis, for some, is and always will be “The King!”

From the King’s aerie, we caught an elevator and rode it to the first floor gift shop. We perused the many articles of clothing, discs and CDs available for purchase and bought a few things for relatives. We then wistfully took our leave of this enticing museum, whose walls encase the musical spirit of the American people during the twentieth century. I am glad that we had come. I urge others to make the pilgrimage. It was a happy one for us.

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Joseph Xavier Martin