La Cebolla Verde

Concert in Buenos Aires - photo by JoAnn Sturman

Scott Sturman
fliesinyoureyes.com

“Scott, we just got a call from La Cebolla Verde.  He wants to see you in his office ASAP,” the cadet in charge of quarters informed me.

“You’ve got to be kidding.  It’s after nine PM, and I’ve got two aero finals tomorrow.  This is call to quarters during finals week, study time.  He’s not supposed to hassle us about military training.  I can’t wait for graduation next week.”

“He insists.  You better report to his office.”

Lt. Colonel Coeur was a marine pilot who was serving as a liaison officer at the Air Force Academy.  He was old school with a shaved head in a time when it was not fashionable, immaculate uniform, rigid posture, and an equally rigid mindset. In short he was just the type young men in their late teens and early twenties like to ridicule.  A combat injury in Vietnam left him with a limp, and despite his intimidating bearing he spoke in a higher pitched voice than one would expect.  One of his many duties beside Fourth Group Air Officer Commanding was the Commandant’s officer in charge of our class graduation activities.

The colonel was still in his office at 9:30 PM when I knocked on the door. 

“Come in, Mr. Sturman, and have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.  Is there anything I can do for this evening?”

“I’m worried the rock band your class hired to play at the graduation dance will be smoking marijuana.  I want you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Several months beforehand the class graduation committee contracted with Sugar Loaf, a Denver based rock and roll band.  Their one hit, “Green Eyed Lady,” made it to the charts and gave the group national notoriety.  For $2000 it seemed like a bargain to nab a group like this to play at an armed services academy, even if they did smoke dope.  This was, after all 1972, and every band cultivated the image of bad ass iconoclasts, who used drugs, bashed authority, and slept with anything that had a vagina.  There was bound to be a conflict when these renegades visited a bastion of the military establishment, but for $2000 cash even Sugar Loaf could push their morals aside and make the trip to Colorado Springs.

“Sir, I can’t promise that.  I’m not a military policeman, just a cadet.”

“I’m holding you personally responsible for this, Mr. Sturman.  If you want your Air Force career to get off to a good start, then you better not disappoint me.”

I walked back to my dorm room, where my roommate Num was studying for his final exams.  “What’s up with La Cebolla Verde?  Did he help you with your aero finals?”

“He’s crazy, Num.  He wants me to insure him no one in Sugar Loaf smokes dope before, during, or after the graduation dance.  These rock and rollers can’t play if they’re not high.  The only way to keep them from indulging would be to cancel the whole affair.”

“Good luck with that, my friend.”

Finals were finished and it was time to dance.  I thought a flexible approach to the Sugar Loaf crisis would be the best way to handle it, an older version of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.  Before the party, I took the $2000 with me back stage to meet the group and pay them.  I found them all huddled in a dark room filled with blue air from the  reefers which would be the envy of Cheech and Chong.  Evidently, this experience was as stressful for them as it was for me.

“Hi, I’m Scott.  I talked to your manager a few months ago.  Thanks for coming.  I have your $2000.”

“Cool, man.  I’ll take the dough,” was all I heard from the only member of the band who could talk.

I shut the door behind me and joined my friends for a couple of beers, while waiting for the band to begin.  Everyone was laughing, drinking, and anticipating a fun filled evening.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lt. Colonel Coeur walking through the throng attired in his formal, full dress Marine uniform with a ceremonial saber dangling from his hip.  He made his way toward our table, “Everything in order, Mr. Sturman?”

“No problem, sir.  Everything is going as expected.”