In the late 1970s I worked as an entertainment reporter and columnist for a small Southeast Texas daily newspaper. The Port Arthur News was close enough to Houston, Beaumont and Lake Charles (cities with venues that could host major concerts) that promoters and record labels often sought us out to help promote an upcoming concert.
We had this executive editor, a family man and apparently a heavy dude in his church, who called me into his office one day. He said: “Kiss is coming to play in Beaumont. Many people in my church are upset, and we’re thinking about protesting. I think you should go and cover the concert.” Nice coincidence, because covering concerts just happened to be my job. And I wanted to go because I thought Kiss pretty much rocked.
Then the editor sat back in his chair and pursed his lips. He was a really tall, thin guy with a curly perm (late 1970s, remember?) and he was a ridiculous-looking dumbass anyway. “And you know what the name Kiss stands for, right?” he said proudly. “Knights In Satan’s Service.” Wow, I thought, that REALLY rocks. “OK Harry, I’ll get on it.”
