Alice Cooper: Through the Looking Glass

THE LOBBY OF the Boston Sheraton Hotel looks, smells and feels like Grand Central Station. In the midst of it stands a tall, skinny man with curly dark hair. David Libert, road manager of the Alice Cooper tour, 1975, is tossing room keys to his band of gypsies and screaming at a hotel official. "Hey, Dynamite Dave," comes a cry from a bedraggled looking freak who gets hit with a room key and a computer listing of the thirty-five or so members of the touring party.