Rocking with History: A Day at Cleveland’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

By Frank Macek

Courtesy: Rock Hall, Aerial Agents

There’s something magnetic about standing on the Lake Erie shoreline in my home city of Cleveland and seeing the iconic glass pyramid rise above the water. It’s not just a building—it’s a symbol of a movement that shaped generations, an institution that guards the memories of voices and guitar licks that defined lives. 

For me, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame has always been more than a museum. It’s a pilgrimage site, a place where music history lives and breathes, constantly reminding us that rock and roll was never just about music—it was rebellion, freedom, hope, and a collective anthem.

As a Clevelander, I’ve long felt a special pride that this landmark sits in my backyard. Tourists may fly in from across the globe, but for me, the Rock Hall has always been a constant presence, visible from the highway, lit at night like a beacon, its glass edges refracting the skyline. I was right there at the opening day weekend broadcasting live on tv with my team at WKYC in 1995 and when I stepped inside again recently, I was again determined to experience it all as if I were seeing it for the first time. I was overwhelmed in the best way possible. The anticipation was real, and the payoff was even greater.

Courtesy: TripAdvisor

Before you even step through the doors, you’re struck by the architecture itself. Designed by world-renowned architect I.M. Pei, the Rock Hall is a striking pyramid of glass and steel that simultaneously evokes modernity and permanence. Rising 162 feet into the Cleveland skyline, it’s as if the design insists that rock and roll deserves a monument as bold as the genre itself. Pei, who also gave the world the glass pyramid at the Louvre, created a structure that reflects the energy of rock—angular, shimmering, unapologetic.

The museum sits on the lakefront at East 9th Street, a location that feels symbolic: Cleveland’s history as a hub of shipping, commerce, and music converging at one point. Walking in, you’re greeted by soaring ceilings, sunlight spilling through, and the faint sound of guitars echoing in the distance. It feels like a cathedral—not one of silence and prayer, but one where the hymns are riffs and drum solos, where the saints are dressed in leather, sequins, and denim.

Courtesy: TripAdvisor

Descending into the lower level, known as the Ahmet M. Ertegun Exhibition Hall, you’re immediately immersed in the foundation of rock and roll. This is where the story begins, and it’s clear that the curators want you to understand that rock didn’t just appear in the 1950s fully formed—it grew from a deep well. 

Gospel harmonies sung in wooden churches, Delta blues carried by weary voices, jazz notes from smoky clubs, folk songs woven by storytellers, and the pulse of R&B all converged to create the explosion that would shake the world. Cleveland’s Alan Freed, the disc jockey who first popularized the term “rock and roll,” is given special recognition here. Standing in front of his display, I felt a swell of pride knowing that this city wasn’t just chosen randomly to house the Hall—it earned it. Freed’s “Moondog Coronation Ball” in 1952, widely considered the first rock and roll concert, happened right here in Cleveland. That lineage matters. I even had the honor of sharing the same airwaves as Freed on the 850 AM frequency many years later as an announcer on WRMR and the "Music of Your Life."

Nearby, artifacts from Muddy Waters, B.B. King, and Sister Rosetta Tharpe remind us that rock’s birth was rooted in the struggles and triumphs of Black musicians whose sounds transcended race and geography. To stand before their guitars, stage outfits, and handwritten notes is to stand before the DNA of everything that came after. A theater on this floor plays a rotating film tracing the birth of the genre. Sitting in the dark, hearing the scratchy recordings and watching the grainy footage, I couldn’t help but feel a chill. This wasn’t nostalgia—it was history preserved.

Back above ground, the first floor provides orientation. There’s the café, where the scent of coffee mingles with the sound of live musicians occasionally performing. The “Backstage Stories” stage adds a behind-the-scenes flavor, offering glimpses into the industry’s less glamorous but equally important side. It’s the first moment where you realize: this place isn’t static. It’s living, breathing, constantly shifting. You can pause for a moment, sip your coffee, and let the atmosphere wash over you before venturing further into the journey.

Courtesy: TripAdvisor

The second floor is where playfulness kicks in. Interactive kiosks invite you to dive into “One-Hit Wonders” or explore “Songs That Shaped Rock and Roll.” I lost myself for nearly an hour just toggling through the jukebox of history, selecting everything from Buddy Holly to Nirvana. Each track comes with a backstory, reminding you that songs are more than melodies—they’re moments in time. Here you’ll also find exhibits honoring Les Paul, whose guitar innovations made possible the electrified sounds we take for granted today. 

Displays charting the evolution of audio technology—from scratchy 78s to streaming—make you realize just how far we’ve come, and yet how constant the human desire for connection through music has remained. For me, standing before Alan Freed’s microphone—yes, the very tool through which he introduced “rock and roll” to the world—was profound. It wasn’t just an object; it was a reminder that words can create movements.

If the museum is a song, the third floor is the chorus—the Hall of Fame itself. Here, the inductees are celebrated in all their diversity: the trailblazers, the disruptors, the visionaries. The Connor Theater plays “The Power of Rock Experience,” a short film directed by Jonathan Demme, that captures induction night energy in a way that makes you feel like you’re in the front row. As the lights dimmed and the screen filled with images of Prince shredding at the George Harrison tribute, Aretha Franklin belting with unmatched force, and Bruce Springsteen leading the E Street Band, I found myself with goosebumps. The film doesn’t just show performances—it transmits the raw electricity of rock at its best. 

On this floor, I lingered longest. The plaques honoring inductees stretch across the walls like constellations. Each name—Chuck Berry, Fleetwood Mac, Public Enemy, Madonna—represents not just a career but a universe of influence. I thought about how their music had soundtracked different parts of my own life, from high school dances to long car rides, from heartbreaks to triumphs.

Courtesy: Rock Hall, Huntcapture.com

The upper levels house temporary exhibitions, and this is where the Rock Hall keeps itself fresh. Over the years, I’ve seen collections dedicated to Elvis Presley, Women Who Rock, the Rolling Stones, and even the cultural impact of U2. On this visit, I was drawn to the “SNL: Ladies & Gentlemen… The Music of Saturday Night Live” exhibit. Seeing costumes worn by performers like Debbie Harry and instruments used by the show’s house band was a surreal blending of television and music history. Fred Armisen’s commentary about being moved by the artifacts echoed my own feelings. What I love most about these temporary exhibitions is how they connect rock’s past to its evolving present. They’re reminders that music doesn’t freeze in time; it adapts, morphs, and continues to inspire.

Many visitors don’t realize that the Rock Hall’s archives are housed separately at Cuyahoga Community College. It’s the world’s most comprehensive repository of rock’s history—thousands of documents, recordings, photographs, and personal collections. While not always accessible to the casual visitor, knowing it exists adds weight to the museum’s mission. It reassures you that the work here goes far beyond what is on display under the glass pyramid.

The Rock Hall isn’t just about artifacts—it’s about community. On summer nights, the plaza outside transforms into a concert venue. Local bands share the stage with national acts, proving that rock and roll’s story is still being written. For Cleveland, the Rock Hall is both an economic engine and a cultural badge of honor. It silenced skeptics who doubted whether the city deserved such an institution. Alan Freed’s legacy, WMMS’s influence, and the city’s deep roots in music all make the case undeniable. Walking through the museum, I thought about how every visitor adds their own energy to the place. It’s not passive—it’s participatory. You’re meant to sing along, to remember, to connect.

By the end of my visit, as I stood beneath the glass pyramid looking out at Lake Erie, I realized the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame isn’t just about preserving the past. It’s about inspiring the future. Seeing teenagers discovering the Beatles for the first time, or parents explaining the cultural revolution of the 1960s to their kids, reminded me that rock is both history and a living force. For me, this trip wasn’t just a stroll through exhibits. It was a reminder of music’s power to unite us, to cross boundaries, to give voice to joy and anger alike. It made me proud that Cleveland is the guardian of this legacy.

Visitor Information: Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

• Location: 1100 Rock and Roll Boulevard, Cleveland, Ohio 44114
• Website: www.rockhall.com
• Season: Open year-round (check website for seasonal hours and holiday closures)
• Hours: Typically 10:00 AM – 5:00 PM (extended summer hours may apply)
• Tickets: General admission varies by age; Cleveland residents can access the CLE VIP program; college students receive a discount with valid ID
• Parking: Nearby lots and garages available for a daily fee
• Accessibility: Wheelchair and stroller rentals available; most areas have accessible entrances and amenities

Frank’s Final Thoughts: Every city has its landmarks, but few have one that resonates across the globe like Cleveland’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. It’s more than a pyramid on the lakefront—it’s a temple to sound, rebellion, creativity, and culture. My visit left me both humbled and exhilarated, a reminder of the soundtrack that has carried me—and millions of others—through life. If you’ve never been, make the trip. If you have, go again. Because like rock and roll itself, the museum never stops evolving. Each visit offers something new, some artifact or story that will strike you differently. And in that moment, you’ll feel it—that universal beat that reminds us why rock and roll will never die.