Holyoke’s Valley Arena, shown in January of 1926 just prior to its opening, was built into an enormous round gas tank. It closed in 1960, when it was destroyed by a third fire. Courtesy photo/Wikimedia Commons

Being fans of swing music, my then-boyfriend and I decided to hear the Benny Goodman Orchestra play in Holyoke. It was a Sunday night in the dead of winter, and a time when people dressed up to go out — the 1940s.

We arrived, parked with no problem and filed in with the rest of the music lovers. The site, once we were inside, seemed round, and we had to walk around and around to reach our seats.

I made the mistake of looking down and over the railing once, and instantly felt quite giddy. It was a vast depth below me. Whew! I did not do that again.

The house lights dimmed, the stage lights came on and the opening act — a comedian of some sort as I recall — began his act; working hard for cheap laughs with not especially funny jokes.

He finally left the stage and the lights came on once again, showing the seated orchestra, the usual female singer in a glamorous sparkling gown and some others, and the music began.

Whether it was Benny Goodman himself performing or a traveling musician, I don’t know, but he played all the clarinet pieces beautifully. The singer had a lovely voice and personality to match, and the small groups were fun to hear.

The applause was loud and enthusiastic. We felt we had experienced a wonderful performance. The last bows were taken, the house lights came on and we were directed to our exit.

Imagine my consternation when I realized my exit door led to an outside fire escape, far above the ground. Never a lover of heights, there I was at the top of the fire escape on a windy, frigid January night, wearing a winter coat, a silky dress with a full circle skirt, nylons and high-heeled shoes. (Remember, back in the ’40s we dressed up to go out.)

I was expected to make my way safely to the bottom rung and then step off. I did it, of course, albeit paralyzed with fright and half-frozen.

Yes, this was a concert at Holyoke’s famed Valley Arena, an entertainment venue built into an enormous round gas tank. Who knew? I surely didn’t until years later, when someone pointed it out to me and commented, “Oh, that’s the old Valley Arena.”

Think of the gas tank you see near Fenway Park in Boston. It was that size. I was horrified, knowing that I had climbed down from that wearing high heels on a windy January night. Well, I was very young.