Fall Ball in Van Nuys Has It All--and It’s Free : Concert: More than 10,000 fans of ‘80s rock music enjoy a city park and the opportunity to do their own thing.

VAN NUYS —  Sunglasses donned, kicked back in their matching mini lawn chairs, Don Letterman and buddy Steve Lucero coolly surveyed the crowd that jammed into Woodley Park on Saturday--looking like two miscreants from an episode of “Wayne’s World.”

All afternoon, the rock ‘n’ roll universe passed right before their very eyes: women in blue jeans and tight-fitting tie-dyed T-shirts, bare-chested men with earrings, baseball caps and shoulder-length hair, girls barely out of high school laboriously pushing baby strollers through the tall green grass.

“Yeah, they’re all coming out of the woodwork for this one,” observed the 42-year-old Letterman, tilting his spectacles down onto the bridge of his nose. “The Deadheads. Left-over hippies. Young hippie wanna-bes.”

“And,” added Lucero: “old dinosaurs like us.”

They crowed in unison: “It’s a free concert!”

Free, indeed. More than 10,000 music fans of all ages showed up Saturday afternoon for performances of such early 1980s rock bands as Cheap Trick, The Tubes and The Plimsouls--an event tabbed as the annual Fall Ball and sponsored by a beer manufacturer, a local radio station and the Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks.

Several park officials were on hand, smiles on their faces, handing out free caps, congratulating themselves on this new scheme to work with local radio stations and sponsors to attract people to city parks.

Even Councilman Marvin Braude got into the act, standing onstage telling the audience, many of whom had absolutely no idea who he was: “This is a time for music, not speeches!”

If all goes well and sponsors raise enough funding, officials said, the city might build a floating stage in the park’s lake for next year’s concert.

“Now that,” said a KLSX radio spokeswoman, “would be totally cool.”

But Letterman and Lucero didn’t care much about any floating stage.

“Hey, this is our third year in a row here,” said Letterman, sitting outside his camper. “And do you know why? Because it’s good music and it’s free. All you have to do is drive here and have a good time.”

This very public event, on this overcast afternoon, was the perfect excuse for the streetwise “Hey, look at me!” Southern California culture to strut its stuff.

There was a 10-year-old girl with a six-foot python draped around her neck, and a balding beer-bellied man shouldering an exotic bird; others yanked large, drooling dogs on leashes, not to mention the blond-headed surfer types who held the hands of taut-bodied young women.

There were Domino’s Pizza delivery men and the guy with the Dr. Seuss “Cat in the Hat” cap. There were couples throwing Frisbees, and twenty-something rockers playing the board game “Clue” in the midst of the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the music.

This being Halloween weekend, there were young boys donning fake blood and makeup that made it appear they had taken a bullet in the forehead. But there were the real-world get-ups, like the guy with the shaved head and purple ponytail who was wearing a nose ring, combat boots and a Black Death T-shirt.

One bleary-eyed man walked up to an obvious female stranger and said: “Hello, are you single?” before falling over. Another tattooed man asked a friend, “So, where are you living now?” His friend’s response: “In a trailer, just like always.”

Nearby, Adam Maples held his 3-year-old son, Jess, saying there was no time too early to introduce kids to the wonders of rock music. “He started in the womb,” the father said.

Up by the stage, Cheap Trick fan April Lang put her hands over her ears to drown out the sound of the pumping bass. “I know I’m going to be deaf tomorrow morning,” she said. “My ears already have scabs in them.”

But the music didn’t bother Dancing George.

At age 78, he moved alone to the music, wearing a cap that said: “Swinging Senior.”

“Name’s George Stone,” he shouted. “I try to make all these concerts. I’ve got to live up to my name.”

The retired railroad worker from Panorama City didn’t mind people gawking at him. “I’m on more home video than you can shake a stick at. See, I’ve got this natural rhythm. I don’t miss a beat. I just put my foot down and follow the sound of the bass.”

Dancing George did a twirl.

“Jeepers, I love Southern California.”