"Besides," Spider pointed out, "cotton ones look better, especially with black trou."

Al Cooper, the fat guy who sings "Rock and Roil Is Here To Stay," also talked frankly about white socks. "I definitely like mine with stripes." he said.

"What color stripes?"

"Red and blue's about the best I've seen." Cooper explained. Spider nodded solemnly. Cooper talked like a beatnik as far as Spider could tell, but he tried to overlook it and passed him a panel from a case of Coke so that Cooper might autograph it. "Alan Cooper," he wrote. It wasn't as much a thrill for Spider as shaking Don Everly's hand at the Tea Party, but it was, nevertheless, exciting.

Al asked Spider if he'd be up for a beer party. Spider didn't want to admit that he was such a pimp he didn't like beer, so he said he had to cut out.

There was one thing Spider really didn't like about these guys- the way they handled "Teen Angel." He thought they were mocking Mark Dinning with all that sobbing. But Robby-Lenard said he did it because he thought the song deserved more emotion than Dinning gave it. Spider had to agree.

He was amazed to hear that they were all still full-time students. And that they never got tired of it. "We just really dig the music." York said.

Inside Spider, as he clicked away from Rindge that night, was an inspiration that the grease all over him never betrayed. It was the greatest show he'd seen since Alan Freed had brought Bill Haley and the Comets to the Paramount Theatre in the late '50's, Rack 'n' roll really was here to stay, he figured.

He couldn't help remembering the early days of grease; the late andgreat days, the vital days. The sixth-grade dances at the Boys' Club, and then sheaking out to the woods for a butt afterwards before walking the chicks down to the Goody Shop for an ice cream soda. Riding around in his brother's '56 Ford convertible with "Donna" blasting out of the radio.

Every day, he'd rush home in time for American Bandstand at 8 p.m., and then one Saturday night he went to see Eddie Quinteros and Annette on the Dick Clark Show. Spider still had his IFIC button. As Spider walked up Quincy Streak, a tear skidded down his face. He wondered where Annette was now.

Spider knew that in an hour his night would end, and he'd have to be a non-greasy member of the Harvard community. There just wasn't room for a 1950's-type there.

But then he spied Flex and two of the chicks. It wasn't over yet. Down at Mt. Auburn and Plympton, there were two other chicks getting into their old Plymouth. They yelled to the girls, and strutted over while their two girls backed off. "Where you chicks from?" Flex asked.

"Wattatown," one said. "I'm Kathy, and that's Denise."

"This here's Flex, and I'm Spider." They smiled.

"Well, how do you dance?"