To view this site you need Adobe Flash Player and your browser must allow javaScripts. Go here to get the latest Flash Player. Once the ninth truss was pulled, the east wall followed. All that remained of the seating area were the section numbers painted on the wall. The wall of the bowl was removed, exposing the escalators which carried fans to the evennumbered sections of the Blues and the Oranges. Then the escalators were removed, the cuts were made, and the machines lined up. Each held a cable in its jaws, attached to the beam to be pulled. On a signal they all backed up, reminiscent of yanking a car out of a snowy ditch. When the towing force hit the tipping point, the memories of everyone who has ever sat on that side of The Aud came tumbling down. After the tenth truss was pulled, the west wall came down in the same manner, except this time my memories were left in the dust. The escalator I rode with my Dad. The steps to the Press Box. The seats we had when I moved back to Buffalo. Now The Aud resembled an amphitheater. There is no crying in demolition. Trusses eleven and twelve came down at the same time, the southeast corner going with them, all playing to a large crowd. It was even televised live. Continued on page 72 The familiarity of The Aud disappears piece by piece. 6 MIKE HEALY 8