Sez Me …
There are people content to spend their lives behind the ropes. Dion Rich spent a great amount of his long life finding a way around them.
His epitaph should read: “I got in.”
I’ve been riding on a strong, defiant camel for many years on this crazy newspaper caravan, along the way meeting some great characters.
And I’ve found that, while people make events, characters make them better — and certainly more memorable.
I love characters.
Dion Rich was one of the great characters, unlike any individual who has roamed the world, living 92 years of a crazy existence that ended Oct. 29, three weeks after he had been diagnosed with cancer.
Dion, never married, was a ticket barterer by unofficial profession, a gate crasher by avocation. And he was terrific at both. If he ever actually paid for a professional or amateur service — doctors, lawyers, dentists, breakfasts, lunches, dinners — I am unaware.
But it was getting into high places in which he hardly was invited that made him, well … I guess you might call Dion an underground celebrity. He loved attention, getting his picture taken with the rich and famous to document the crash, his name in the paper, his face on the news, his voice speaking of his exploits in front of civic groups.
But he was a good, loyal friend. He was a friend to a whole lot of people.
Dion was the NFL’s Public Enemy No. 1, and those who ran the Oscars ceremonies didn’t rest until they ran him off the red carpet.
But that happened many, many, many years after he began entering without breaking. They knew he was coming, and they tried to catch him, but failed. He was a brilliant interloper, not a criminal.
Dion wrote a book, “Confessions of the World’s Greatest Gate Crasher,” complete with photos of him with celebs, and he wasn’t lying. He was the greatest. But, while he “confessed” some, he would have sold many more books if he told all.
After a try at commercial fishing, the Grossmont High alum ran the Bar of Music in the College area, and it was there the roots were formed to his crashing career.
Dion would welcome many visiting AFL head coaches and their assistants at his t, making friends, and when the first Super Bowl came around, he went to the L.A. Coliseum on the Chiefs’ bus., They gave him a red jacket and he walked the sideline.
After that, he crashed dozens of them without failure, despite the NFL’s gendarmes — led by Inspector Jacques Clouseau — going all out to nab him.
He was on the podium with Pete Rozelle and Vince Lombardi after Super Bowl I, again with Al Davis and Rozelle. He made the covers of “Sports Illustrated” carrying Super Bowl-winning coaches Chuck Noll and Tom Landry off the field.
He wore disguises, once getting onto the field (his goal) in a wheelchair. But he always carried a press credential or a real ticket.
He crashed the Oscars — and the after-parties — for years, until he got a cease-and-desist letter. He crashed all over the world, including the Olympics, which, I can tell you, was one tough crash after the Munich murders.
SI’s Rick Reilly told Dion he’d like to do a column on him crashing a Super Bowl. It was after 9/11 and the New Orleans Superdome was surrounded by tanks. No problem.
I could go on forever. Just , Dion was a harmless fun-seeker, who simply cased the t and got in.
He knew he was dying, but still wheelchaired into a Dodgers-Padres playoff game — and, of course had a photo taken to have it notarized
I’m sure he didn’t crash it. But I doubt he bought the ticket.
Dion Rich double-dog dared to be great.
Requiescat in pace …
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