Sadly, there are only two shows left for the season at Bethel Woods, but if Saturday night was the final one, I’d be ok with it. My favorite female fronted band was playing. I’ve seen Heart several times, but I had never worked one of their shows and I was looking forward to seeing them from a different perspective. Not that I ever really get to enjoy a show when I’m working- in fact, most of the time I couldn’t even tell you what the stage looked like or what set changes they had. I can, however, always feel the energy of the show and the crowd. I can also hear the music of course- well, mixed in with the crowd noise and the chatter on my security radio ear piece.
The Wilson sisters have been in a band together for 50 years. I’ve been a fan for as long as I can remember. I owned the album Dog and Butterfly (1978) since I was very young and the title track, written by Nancy, has always been a favorite of mine. While I respect the talent and vocal range of Ann, Nancy has always been my favorite of the sisters and my favorite female rocker.
Like all Berhel work days, one of the most interesting parts for me is the security briefing with the artist’s head of security. There’s usually seven of us- my boss, two security supervisors, two house supervisors, the production director and our GM- plus the performer’s representatives. They go over what they expect from us and inform us of any specific things they need from security. Their head of security looked a bit young to me, but he was covering all the bases and saying the right things. It was to be a pretty standard show. Nothing crazy, but they did have a few extra security requirements. Ann and Nancy Wilson were true pioneers for women in rock. I’m sure they’ve had their share of over-enthusiastic fans and their head of security, Dustin, was very concerned about keeping them safe.
After the briefing, one of our under cover police officers was talking to Dustin. I walked over and joined the conversation. While I’m looking at this “kid” who appeared to be no older than my eldest son, I said, “Can I ask you a question- and you dont have to answer it if you dont want to.” He said, sure. “ “How old are you? “27” I bluntly asked, “How the hell did you get this gig? You probably didn’t even know who Heart was when you got hired.”
He glanced around the patio for a second, as if he was checking to see who was watching us or listening to our conversation. He then looked me in the eye and matter of factly said the completely unexpected, “Ann is my mom.” Then I blurted out, again without thinking, “So Ann is your mom…that means Nancy Wilson is your aunt??” He was very understanding of my surprise and slight fanboy moment. We talked for a bit, as I tried to wrap my head around what it must have been like growing up as Ann Wilson’s son. As we parted ways, he reached into his pocket, fumbled around and pulled out a guitar pick and handed it to me.
A short while later, it was time for Nancy to exit her bus for the dressing room. We walked her entourage up the stairs and I opened the door for her and said welcome back to Bethel. She looked up at me and said “Thank you.” Nancy Wilson from Heart spoke to me. My night was complete and the show hadn’t even begun.
The show went smoothly and I did get to have another nice chat with Dustin on the ramp of the pavilion and he gave me the quick version of what it was like growing up with Heart. He told me his mom has a baby picture of him being held by Ozzy- he told me about an unfulfilled promise from former uncle, Cameron Crowe to get him into a Star Wars movie as a stormtrooper. You know- normal kid stuff. He told me about being at the Kennedy Center Honors when Heart performed Stairway To Heaven, bringing Robert Plant to tears, and he told me about how his mom beat two bouts of cervical cancer, foot surgery and a broken elbow, while still keeps a full work and touring schedule.
I didn’t hit 20,000 steps that night, but I was close. When the show ended, we walked with Ann back to the bus and then waited for Nancy’s guests to leave. She eventually came out of her dressing and gave Dustin, who was standing next to me, a big hug. No…I didn’t get a hug, but I said thanks for a great show and she, in her Nancy Wilson voice, said, Awwww…thank you. We walked her to her bus and I made the final security arrangements and headed up the lawn to get the bus to the employee parking lot.
Driving home, I reflected on the night and how cool it was, to me, anyway. Getting to meet the Wilson sisters…seeing them up close…talking with Ann’s son. Oh- and they did play Dog and Butterfly- just for me…and maybe several thousand other people.
I’m always more impressed with a musical legend’s attitude than their abilities. I’m pretty sure we can all name a musician or celebrity whose bad attitude or behavior has left a negative footnote in our memory of them. I think Bonnie Raitt fits the description of musical legend. Wednesday night I worked the her show at the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester. She sounded pretty damn good for a 75 year old woman who’s been touring the world since she was a very young lady. She also can hold her own on the guitar. I was glad to hear how great she sounded because I’d be working her show at Bethel Woods two nights later. The only thing that sucked about the show was her management’s no cell phone policy that security is asked to enforce. This makes it a very busy night with 2,000 people in the room. It makes for an almost impossible task with 10,000 cellphone yielding patrons.
Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, Bonnie Raitt is a true musical icon. She has thirteen Grammys and a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award. Her slide guitar work has been praised by BB King. She has managed to stay pretty relevant for several decades. I didn’t get to meet Bonnie on Wednesday, but she seemed nice and appreciative of her fans. The show ended smoothly and I received a few positive comments from some of the guests about my relentless pursuit of the cell phone policy violators. Yes…I may have made a few enemies, but that’s what I’m being paid to do. I’ve been on both sides of the flashlight. I know it sucks. Oh well.
Bethel Woods. Friday. A few of us gathered backstage, on the patio for our security briefing with Bonnie’s people and Bonnie happened to pop out for dinner- followed by her little dog, Bailey. She was friendly and had a short conversation with us. We changed our meeting location to give her some privacy. Just as I anticipated, there was that dreaded “no cell phone use” policy in effect. I hate it, but from what I was told, she had some new material that she didn’t want getting out on the interweb. After our meeting, a guy was walking into the backstage area. I held the door for him as I noticed an uncanny resemblance to another famous rocker. I asked, “How many people tell you that you look like David Crosby?” He said everybody. I replied, “I get it. People tell me I look like Billy Joel.” He introduced himself- Crook Stewart- David’s longtime tour manager. We had a short conversation and went our separate ways.
The show went well, and just like Wednesday, Jimmy Vaughn opened with a killer set with his band and Bonnie sounded great. I walked a lot- about 20,000 steps, and sure, it sucked and I made a few enemies, but we got the job done as best we could. No photos. No video. No cell phone use. I was polite. I tried to be understanding. I held my sign in front of a few phones. I may have yelled once or thrice after repeatedly asking people to put their phones away.
After the show, Bonnie had some guests meet her backstage. Her ex-husband, Michael O’keefe and her original touring bass player among others. When I brought her out, I mentioned that I worked her show at The Cap on Wednesday and she talked about her fondness of that venue. Now we just had to wait for her to make the rounds with her guests. We couldn’t leave until she was safely on her bus. Michael O’keefe was ready to go and I arranged for a ride back up to his car on one of our golf carts…sadly at that time, I didn’t realize who he was, but the irony of his role in one of my favorite movies is still kind of hilarious to me. Then I spoke with her former bass player and got his party back to their cars. As I walked back towards the building, I saw Bonnie and her manager and Bailey leave the dressing room and walk out towards the stage, so I ran in to escort her. She thanked me and she thanked the stage hands as we walked by them and the poked her head into the doors of the offices we passed to say thank you to everyone still present. I warned her of the approaching stairs and she remarked that there were a lot of stairs at The Capitol. She talked about how much she enjoyed being at Bethel and I told her we were happy to finally have her there. Then I said, “Guess where I’m driving home to after this?” She asked where and I told her Poughkeepsie. A big smile appeared and she just about yelled, “I love Poughkeepsie!” I was there from 1967 to 1969. She attended Oakwood School for Friends which is just a few minutes from my house.
When we got to her bus, she thanked me again and I thanked her and told her to come back soon, to which she replied, “Oh, I hope so!” She and Bailey made their way up to the steps and disappeared into her bus. I turned to walk back to the building and I heard a voice shout, “So long Billy!” I looked over to see Crook standing in the shadow of the tour bus with a big smile on his face. It took me half a second to catch on, but I quickly replied, “Take care David.”
It started out like any other normal day. I woke up, got ready for work, had a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal and packed my bag for the night gig. This time, I didn’t grab one of my security shirts. I had to pack my black suit. I was working a private event at the Capitol Theatre. Working at The Capitol Theatre is not always easy for me. They host quite a few jam bands. By quite a few, I mean they are almost an exclusively jam band venue. The jam roots run deep at The Cap with Jerry Garcia’s blessing and an attached bar named after him. Phil Lesh had played there over 100 times. They have dozens of Grateful Dead tributes and influenced bands- which pack the theater every time. I dont hate it. It’s just not my thing. I have many friends who love the Dead and that sound, but I never got it. I can appreciate the talent, but it’s one of the few genres of music that just elude my taste and my liking. Tonight was going to be different though.
Eldridge Industries is an investment company valued at 74 billion dollars. They rent out The Cap every year for their annual Christmas party- and do they know how to throw a party! Catered with a non-stop flow of amazing food…food that we are told not to touch…wink wink. This year they had two big open bars and two large lounge type bars with couches, built inside the theater just for the party. They also have an array of food stations set up throughout the venue. The highlight of the night is always the music. They bring in a band that usually plays stadiums, not the 2,000 seat Capitol Theatre.
When I got to Port Chester, Broad Street was blocked off with police trucks and flashing lights. The catering tents were set up in the road outside the venue with stadium lighting that made it look like daytime. I parked at the train station across the street and walked upstairs above the Cap for the security briefing where we were told this is a very “hands off” show. We are there to basically provide assistance in case of emergencies or medical issues. My assignment was “Evolve” which is watching the metal detectors at the door for entrancing. This means, much like at The Chance, I am the first one the guests see when they walk into the building. Lucky them.
There are only 1,000 guests- half of The Cap’s note male capacity. All of them are Eldridge employees or VIP guests and a few friends of the Cap’s owner, Peter Shapiro. It’s a pretty exclusive event and there was a lot of money in the room- including Eldridge CEO Todd Boehly, whose net worth is nearly ten billion dollars. About 45 minutes after doors opened, I am watching the security monitors and a smiling face pops up right next to me. It’s Rob Lowe. He says hello and asks how I’m doing. I say, Welcome Mr. Lowe, and direct him to the ticket takers. Several minutes later, a woman walks towards me and starts up a conversation. I asked her if she has a QR code and look up to see her husband, The Captain, Mark Messier. He was very friendly as I welcomed them in. I’ve seen Mark at the Cap a few times and it’s always a little bit of a thrill.
After entrancing was done, I gave breaks to a few guards and then went into the theater to float. The room is pretty much unrecognizable, as it is decorated with at least 25 Christmas trees food stations, platform lounges and a steady parade of servers with delicious appetizers, followed by chicken and beef sliders, sushi, gourmet hotdogs and probably some other great stuff that I had missed.
The band had started and it was quite a lineup. The house band was Smith Watt Steakhouse, which is comprised of Chad Smith (from The Red Hot Chili Peppers) and Andrew Watt, who is one of the hottest producers in music today- and a hell of a guitar player/singer. They played a great set including “Whipping Post” with Cap regular, Warren Haynes before welcoming the first guest headliner- Elvis Costello. A few songs later, they introduce Billy Idol. Billy really gets the crowd going and then brings on the amazing Miss Lisa Fischer for a rousing version of “Gimme Shelter.”
If you don’t know who she is, google her and come see her at Daryl’s House in January. She is one of my favorite artists to visit the club. After Billy’s set Andrew introduces the one and only Iggy Pop, who very soon has his shirt off and is rolling around on the floor. He drops a ton of f-bombs and asks the crowd, “Who has the balls to come up here and sing with me?” At this point, I am standing at stage right, looking at the other guards who are all wondering if he really just said that and how many people are going to storm the stage. Fortunately, there is just one guy at stage left who Iggy invites up. While he is talking to the brave and quite probably intoxicatied man, I am intently watching and waiting for something stupid to happen. Just then, I feel a hand in my shoulder. I hear a very familiar and recognizable voice say, “Did he just invite people up?” For a quick second, I thought I was in a scene from St. Elmo’s Fire. I turn around and yes, it is Rob Lowe, who was very nice to me earlier. I said, I believe he did. Rob replied, I have to get up there! The guard next to me was blocking him with his arm and shaking his head. I said, Dude- It’s Rob Lowe! We have to let him up! Reluctantly, he dropped his arm and Rob climbed the steps and navigated his way over the monitors and wires. My coworker said, I have a feeling we’re gonna get shit for this. I said, “It’s Rob Lowe. I’ll take the heat.” Just then, I saw my boss standing on the opposite side of side of the stage, watching this all go down. He wasn’t freaking out, so I figured we were safe. Then I watch Rob, and I prepare to catch him or help him up when he falls, but instead, he frantically starts to disrobe, throwing his jacket to the side of the stage and pulling off his shirt. He stomps across the stage, arms flailing about, like he’s Iggy Pop himself and starts dancing and singing with Iggy, who has launched into, I Wanna Be Your Dog, by The Stooges.
Is this really happening? My eyes scan across the theater and I look up to the owners box and see Leonardo DiCaprio enjoying the moment. Leonardo DiCaprio?? Mark Messier is in the box behind him, laughing at the scene. There have been a lot of drugs done in this building, and that would explain this moment, but I don’t do drugs and I hardly ever drink. This was real. And crazy.
When Iggy was done, the next guest was introduced. Eddie Vetter. I am not a huge Pearl Jam fan, but I respect them and it was pretty cool to see Eddie so close up. My much younger coworker and partner at Bethel as well as the Cap was in his glory, as he is a huge fan.
The final guest to join the band was the one and only Roger Daltrey. He did a great set of Who classics and then all the performers joined him on stage for a very grand finalé.
To top this strange and wonderful night off, my drive home was detoured and lengthened due to a plane crash on Rt 684. This gave me a few extra minutes to replay the crazy moments of the night in my mind and think for a second, Forrest Gump was right. Life is like a box of chocolates…
There are still about three weeks to go for 2024, but I think I just saw my surprise concert of the year. I got a call last week to work at my newest addition of venues, The Ridgefield Playhouse. I had the night open, so I accepted. I looked online to see who was playing. Mark Farner…I know Mark Farner- from Grand Funk Railroad. Should be a decent show, right? Hopefully not just another guy in his mid/late 70’s trying to relive the glory days. Lord knows there’s a bunch of them out there. I usually like to do some research on artists that I don’t know a lot about before I work a show, but because of the short notice, I didn’t get a chance. Everybody knows the great classics, We’re An American Band and I’m Your Captain, but there are always a few other songs you know, but don’t remember.
While speaking to the other security guards about the band before the show, I remembered clear as day, my parents big console stereo system/turntable that sat at the head of our living room-literally the first thing you’d see when you walked into our home in the 70’s. My parents weren’t very musical- though my mom could sing and always got compliments after church. My dad loved the music of the 50’s. They had an armful of albums stored in that big old stereo and whenever they left me home alone, I’d dig through them and crank up some tunes. I was well under ten years old, but I clearly remember my three favorites in their collection. Probably the three that didn’t seem to belong there. James Brown, Revolution Of The Mind, Grand Funk Railroad, Live Album and also had GFR’s Survival. Sure, I had my own albums to listen to- The Partridge Family- I desperately wanted to be Chris- soon after, I would want to be Peter Criss. I had a few Jackson Five albums, Bobby Sherman and of course Steve Martin, among others but you get the idea.
These albums were different. It was really the covers that got me. Album art. Don’t get me started there. Kids today are so deprived to not have great, big album covers and sleeves with pictures, liner notes and lyrics. It changed music forever when they switched to compact discs. Fine print. Tiny booklets. Little photos. Not even in the same ballpark as the fear imposed on me when I bought We Sold Our Soul For Rock And Roll as a child and unwrapped the plastic covering, opened the gatefold to reveal a creepy woman holding a cross in a coffin. It freaked me out a little. Still does, but it’s just one example of how album art is memorable and can move you.
Anyway, those Grand Funk and James Brown albums left an impression on me, both musically and visually. When I was taking to the other guards, it all came back to me. Hours of listening and staring at those albums. I’m not sure why I had never seen GFR before, but I’m glad I got to see Mark perform their hits. He put on a great show and had an awesome rhythm section. The drummer sang a few songs and the entire band sang back ups. Marks stage presence and energy was that of a twenty-six year old rock star, not a 76 year old! He is unabashedly a proud American and took a little time to speak about the state of our country and the music business, without getting specifically political. He talked about his 47 year marriage to his wife, Lisa. He noted how all of his merch was made in the US- btw, t-shirts were only 25 and 30 bucks! I’m not sure exactly why this show hit me so deeply, but it was a pleasure to work and witness it. God bless these guys who are still doing it and delivering a quality product!
Seeing and hearing these men and some women who created so many great classics that I’ve listened to for nearly 50 years is a treat that I would probably not get to experience if it weren’t for my part time jobs. The soundtrack of my life is filled with a bunch of 70’s rock tunes that have been etched into my mind forever. Someday, like the musical greats of my parents generation, they will be gone or unable to perform. Until then, I will work their shows or buy their tickets and thank them for the music and the memories they have given me.
Was this my best surprise show of the year? Maybe…maybe not. I’ve got a bunch more coming up and I can’t wait to see which one will win.
I just finished working my second consecutive Doobie Brothers show at the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester.
The band sounded amazing after 50 plus years together. I had once again almost forgotten how many great tunes an old band had and what a big part their music played in the soundtrack of my life. Growing up, my family travelled by car quite a bit, whether it was driving to Brooklyn to see family or our many camping trips up and down the East coast. My dad always had music playing and it was a while before I owned a Walkman…which, for the youngsters, was kind of the first iPod…which for the younger youngsters, was the predecessor to the AirPod. Take Me In Your Arms, Rockin’ Down The Highway, You Belong To Me, Jesus Is Just Alright, China Grove and more. I sat in front of the stage, right under the great Tom Johnston on night one, for the final five songs. It may seem odd, but it is sometimes a bit moving to see the sheer joy that music brings to total strangers. While facing the crowd, I’m always scanning for potential problems, but I can’t help but enjoy watching the smiles, passion and sometimes tears that are present in the faces of the concert goers.
On night two, I was positioned about fifteen feet in front of the legendary Michael McDonald. Besides being the main vocalist on many of the Doobies (and his own) hits, his unmistakable voice can be heard on countless great songs from Steely Dan, Toto, Christopher Cross, Kenny Loggins and many more. For the final five songs this time, I was sent backstage and stood twenty feet behind Michael McDonald while he sang Takin It To The Streets and Listen To The Music.
At the end of the show, I was tasked with walking each band member back to the busses, one at a time. When Michael came out, he thanked every single crew member around him individually. I emphasize that because many artists do not. Some dont even notice the dozens of workers who make their shows happen. I’m sure musicians have a lot going through their heads when they are on tour, moving from one show to the next, but the guys and ladies that take a few seconds to show their appreciation will always be the ones who stand out to me. I pointed my flashlight down the dark sidewalk and said, “Right this way.” He thanked me and as we walked, I told him I really liked his recent interview with Rick Beato. (If you don’t know, google it!!) He said, “That was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?” We worked our way past some overzealous fans and got to his bus. He thanked me again and I patted his shoulder and said, Thank you.”
I always say that sometimes it’s the little things., but sometimes the little things aren’t so little…to me, anyway.
Anyone of my friends can tell you I was and will always be an 80’s metal guy, but I like and listen to almost every type of music. Thanks to my security jobs throughout the years, I have been exposed to many bands and artists that I would not normally listen to. Some good, some great and some…meh, but I’ve always appreciated talent and musicianship, no matter what the genre. Whether it’s the yacht rock band at Daryl’s House on Thursday or at Bethel Woods with Joan Jett and Alanis Morissette on Friday, or Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan and Robert Plant with Allison Krause, and Celisse on Saturday or any of the less traditional shows I work, one of the things I enjoy the most is seeing how music affects people.
I was reminded of this during Alanis Morissette’s show on Friday. They had a second stage set up in the middle of the pavilion, behind the sound board. I was tasked with leading Alanis off the main stage, through the pavilion and onto the “B stage” where I was positioned in the blocked off the aisles in front of her. As I crouched just a few feet from her, scanning the crowd, a group of elated young girls who suddenly had scored second row seats with the new stage, caught my eye. They, along with the rest of the packed pavilion, were on their feet. One girl in particular who was singing every word with tears in her eyes and at times, just outright sobbing, stood out.
It’s interesting how music can really move people. At the end of thr four song set on the B stage, I had to run back to the main stage with Alanis, but the Impression of that girl’s moment stuck with me, so afterwards, I walked back over to the mix where the B stage was, climbed over the four empty rows of seats toward the girls and reached out to that one super fan, handing her a rolled up copy of the setlist. I didn’t realize that I may have frightened her and her friends for a moment while charging towards them, but after I handed her the setlist, I turned around, climbed back over the four empty rows and heard a very loud shriek and a thank you as I walked away.
On Saturday, we had Willie Nelson’s yearly Outlaw Music Festival with Celisse, Robert Plant, Bob Dylan and of course, Willie- who just rejoined the tour after a brief Illness. Security was very tight, with three legendary performers on the property.
Early in the day, Celisse had finished her sound check and was sitting on a couch in the VIP area. She suddenly got up from the couch and walked over to a section further away. On my way back from checking the “Member’s Area” I saw her getting up again, mumbling something to herself and shaking her head. I asked if everything was ok and if I could help. A little background- she is a large, normally bubbly woman with an amazing voice and some pretty good guitar chops. She was wearing a very bright yellowish green dress which made her seem to be even more cheerful, so it took me by surprise when she replied, “Where can I go to get the fuck away from everybody?? There’s people all over this place.” I said, “Come with me.” I brought her to the far end of the Members Area and told her she’d be good until about 3:30. She said, “Perfect. I just need a few minutes to myself.” Later, during her set, I led her as she came off the stage and walked through the pavilion, jamming away on her 1963 Gibson Les Paul SG.
She was smiling big, happy as can be and the crowd loved her. She came over to me afterwards and said, “Thank you for helping me out before. I appreciate that.”
I wish I was old enough to have seen Led Zeppelin, but sadly John Bonham died and their tour that I was planning on attending, was canceled. While Robert Plant only does a handful of watered down Led Zep songs during his show with Alison Krause, it is still exciting to see and hear him. His has one of the most recognizable and well known voices in rock and roll. God only knows how many times I’ve listened to him on albums and radio. The man is a true legend. Last year I stood next to him for several minutes during a meet and greet. This year, I was walking past him and didn’t realize he was there. I must have looked a little surprised when our eyes met and he said, “Hello” to which I very cool and calmly said, “Ummm…oh…hi.” and kept walking. At least our friendship is growing and I imagine if he comes back next year, we’ll probably have lunch together.
In addition to all of the normal business of nearly sold out shows, I had to deal with a few additional issues involving patrons and employees. One of which created my favorite memory of the busy weekend and included Willie Nelson’s production manager’s eight year old daughter and honorary granddaughter, Charlie. She and her mom were shooed away from a viewing area inside the pavilion. I was told about the issue and walked over to apologize to them. We talked for a few minutes and I made sure Charlie was ok and she gave me a high five. I bumped into them a few more times throughout the night as they were bouncing all over the venue. At one point, Charlie’s mom explained to me that Charlie has stood next to Willie with his family band during the last song of the show for years. We worked it out so Charlie’s mom could take video from the pit and get up on stage at the completion of the show.
I promised Charlie I would come to the stage to watch her. When the show ended, Charlie came to the edge of the stage where Willie’s fans were begging for set lists. She started handing me the set lists along with instructions on who in the crowd to give them to. The group of Willie’s fans shouted for her attention in hopes of getting a memory from the show. Charlie walked up to me with one last piece of paper left. She handed it to me and said, “This one’s for you.” I thanked her and turned back to the small mob who were expecting me to hand it to someone in the crowd. Charlie called to me again and said, “You have to keep it!” To which I replied, “Only if you autograph it for me.” She very happily obliged and a little later, after the pavilion cleared out, she came back and asked her mom to take a picture of us.
Who would’ve thought that an eight year old girl would leave a more lasting impression than Robert Plant or Willie himself? Sometimes you just never know.
It was a busy couple of days at Bethel last week. Hootie and the Blowfish and Collective Soul on Thursday and James Taylor on Friday. Both great shows and surprisingly very quiet from a security point of view. Perfect weather and no ejections and only a couple of medicals. I’m sure we will pay for that next week, as we have some big shows coming up, but it was nice to ease into the season.
James Taylor has some pretty legendary songs and while he’s not quite a high energy rocker, he always has an amazing band of super talented musicians, including a former Michael Jackson backup singer Dorian Holley, the sax player from the Blues Brothers movie Lou Marini and most importantly, one of the greatest drummers in the world, Mr. Steve Gadd.
I saw Steve when I was 18 years old, at a small club in Poughkeepsie. He was absolutely amazing. He has played on countless albums with some of the most famous rock, pop and jazz musicians and singers in the world. He’s recorded with Steely Dan, Paul Simon, Chick Corea, Carly Simon, Aretha Franklin and many, many more. He has long been a drum hero of mine and most drummers- both professional and amateur, cite him as an influence.
I was hoping to get a chance to meet Mr. Gadd, but you never really know what the artists are going to do and my main goal at Bethel is to help keep the 4500 people in the pavilion, the band and crew, and the staff members safe. Fortunately, Bethel Woods is a magical place and when I walked to the back of house about an hour and a half before show time to check on my guards, there he was, asking a question to one of the guards. I excitedly said, Mr. Gadd- what can I help you with? He looked me in the eye, extended his hand and said, It’s Steve. To which I replied, I know who you are- I’m kind of a big fan. He asked my name and then explained that he had some friends coming to the show and he wanted to meet them up at the market shed, which is near the front gates. I asked, would you like to walk or ride? He said ride, but he wasn’t ready to go yet, so I told him to have one of the guards get me on the radio and I would take care of it. We spoke for a couple of minutes and he thanked me and I went back to the pavilion, thrilled that I got to shake the hand of the man who created such iconic drum tracks as Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover, Chuck E’s in Love, Aja and so many more.
I figured he would have someone take care of his friends and that would be the end of it. A short while after that, I was making the long trek up to the front gates to check on my guards in the Market Sheds. As I was walking, I heard someone shout my name. I turned to look and it was my very good friend Alex, who I hadn’t seen in quite some time. We chatted for a few minutes and I told him my Steve Gadd story. A minute later, John from hospitality walked up to me and asked if I could hang around for a few minutes and keep an eye on a band member for him. He pointed to a table and I said, Steve Gadd??? Yes. I can keep an eye on Steve Gadd!
When Steve was saying his goodbyes, I walked over and told him we had a cart ready to bring him back to the pavilion. He thanked ma and looked a little surprised to see me. John walked over and Steve said, This is Mike. John said, no…not that Mike and Steve said, “Yes- this is the Mike I was talking to earlier.” Steve Gadd remembered my name. That was pretty cool. John told him that I am a drummer and Steve said, “I hope you enjoy the show.” “If you are playing drums, I will definitely enjoy it.” I replied. “I’d rather see you play the solo from Aja, but I’m just happy to be here.” He nodded, maybe in agreement, and Mr. Gadd then said something that will stick with me forever- “It’s really all about the music.”
They asked if I wanted to ride down with them, but I politely declined, said goodbye and walked over to say goodbye to my buddy Alex, who was waiting with his phone in his hand and this picture for me.
Last Saturday was the first day of the music part of the Catbird Festival. I guess I waited too long to write this, because the only thing I remember is that it was a blur of somewhat organized chaos. Ron, my Bethel partner in supervising the pavilion and backstage area was off for the weekend, so I was alone in organizing the staff- especially since most of my friends from our awesome outside security company were stationed elsewhere and I had to deal with a different group that was…less conscientious about their jobs. By that, I mean sitting when they’re supposed to stand, wandering off without telling their supervisors, watching the show instead of the crowd and sleeping at their post Fortunately, I did have a few of the good ones who helped me immensely. I’ve done my job solo before, but this was a little different- an all day/all night festival. Eleven bands each day. Unlike every other show that we have at Bethel, there was no security briefing. No meeting to go over the security needs of the bands, the details of the shows or what to expect from the fans. This led to a weekend of running around like a crazy person, constantly talking to band managers, festival promoters, usher/volunteer supervisors and my security guards. I won’t say it was disorganized, but communication was less than stellar. In the end, it all worked out, but it was a bit exhausting.
I caught up with the Lumineer’s manager just before their set and found out that their singer comes off the stage twice during the show. Probably the most important bit of information to know about a performance. I was told that no security was needed to lead or follow him out, which to me is crazy. Then I was told that the keyboard player comes out into the crowd and again, no security. I was given song cues and I informed the guards and the ushers. The singer did his thing without issue Unfortunately, the keyboard player got either too excited or a little confused and decided to run out into the crowd during the wrong song. Nobody was prepared for it or expecting it and he plowed into one of our ushers, knocking her down to the floor. She was badly shaken, but ok. Outside of that one incident, there weren’t any other issues and I was happy to put the first night of the festival behind me and I was very much looking forward to the upcoming eight hours before the next call time.
Sunday was equally as chaotic as Saturday, but at least I knew what to expect. Busyness, craziness and lots of running around. The weekend was so hectic that all I really remember is the end of the festival. When the final performers wrapped it up, I took my usual place in front of the stage, watching for an overeager fan to do something stupid. There was one show last year, where a fan decided to climb up on the stage and I somehow jumped up the five foot high stage after him and saved his life before somebody else could tackle and beat him- that probably would never happen at Bethel, but I’ve seen it done at other venues. There are always a bunch people clamoring for a guitar pick or a set list and there are always one or two who have a personal story to share about the band and how their music saved them or changed their life and how they just want to meet the band and thank them. I can appreciate all of this. I love music. I’ve been there, as a fan.
One woman was up front in tears, begging me and other guards for literally anything from the show. She told her story. She was a cancer survivor, just got engaged and I didn’t realize it at the time, but needed a wheelchair to get around. The headliner, Tyler Childers, a 32 year old musician from Kentucky. I knew nothing about him, but his music resonated with this woman and helped get her through her cancer treatments. People often beg, plead, offer money- or other types of barters- for some concert memorabilia, but this woman was different. She was sincere and there was just something about her that made me want to help. We had cleared out everyone else from pavilion when she asked one more time if there was anything at all she could get from the show. The set lists were already handed out and the crew had already begun loading out. I rarely, if ever do this, but I said give me a minute and I ran backstage. I looked all over for a set list. I checked the stage for a pick. I walked through the dressing room hallway, which was now pretty much empty. Most of the bands clear out fairly quickly, as they have another show to do, several hours away, but in the last dressing room, there was a man and woman talking. The man had an acoustic guitar strapped around his neck. I knocked on the open door and apologized for interrupting them and I explained the situation. The woman immediately jumped up and we frantically searched for I don’t even know what. Something from the show. Anything Just as we were about to give up, I looked at the dressing room door and there was a laminated sign that said “Tyler Clilders.” I said, what about that?” She pulled it down and said, “Perfect!” and handed it to me. Apparently, this whole process took a little while, so I quickly ran back out to the front of the stage, excited to hand the sign to the woman, but she was gone. I asked the few remaining guards where she went. One of them said, “The woman in the wheelchair? She left.” Like I said, I had no idea she was in a wheelchair and this made the mission even more important. I didn’t know if the ADA carts were still running people up to the parking lots or if they had to walk up to the main exit. I took a chance and ran to the lower ADA area as quickly as my out of shape legs and lungs would take me. When I got there, there was only one couple left, literally about to board the last cart of the night. I touched the woman’s shoulder and as she turned to me, I handed her the sign. She immediately bursted into tears and could barely speak to thank me. Her husband, with tears in his eyes said, “You have no idea how much this means to her.” To most, it was just a laminated piece of paper that one of the staff members printed from a computer, but to this woman, it was a souvenir that would forever hold a moment in time and bring her one step closer to a musician who made a huge impact in her life. With tears in her eyes, she asked if she could give me a hug and as she did, I felt like the whole weekend of insanity was worthwhile.
It was weird not driving to the employee parking lot, but when I arrived to the campground entrance. Up ahead, I saw a small sea of green Bethel security shirts. I parked my car and walked through the wet, squishy grass towards them. This is when I realized my first mistake of the day- wearing my black supervisor shirt. Immediately, everyone started asking me questions. This is when I uttered the words, “i dont know, but I’ll find out.” The first time of many, that I would utter that phrase this weekend. I spoke to the crew in charge of the operation. I spoke to the festival people. I spoke to my boss. Apparently they were hoping to let the ground dry out a bit before the 6,000 or so campers started leaving their mark. I called my boss again and then I gave 14 guards their first job of the day. Wait around for six hours and watch the grass grow…or dry- which was a difficult task for the grass. Especially when it started raining again. Not once, not twice, but three times. Short, steady storms rolled in and out of the otherwise clear, sunny skies. The wet Bethel ground was getting wetter. Finally, after a bunch of sitting, listening to music, walking around, talking to other workers and maybe a quick little nap, our boxed dinners arrived. They weren’t terrible, but I was glad I stopped at Big Kev’s for some of their awesome pulled pork. I drove by the entrance, and was on the brink of going straight to work, but I had time and something told me to go back. Now, Big Kev’s may not look like much, but it is always busy and always delicious. I had passed the roadside eatery a hundred times, and always wanted to stop there, but hadn’t until this year- thanks to an amazing friend and a little adventure. Thank God for my spontaneous decision, because in true Murphy’s Law fashion, minutes after the boxed dinners came, we were told that we were opening up the gates.
Last weekend was the long awaited “Catbird Festival” at Bethel Woods. Three days of 12 – 14 hours of work- or as I later described it- twenty hours of work in a 14 hour shift. Friday was camper check in day. I took the day off from my full time job so I could be there to help out. Little did I know what was in store for me. I was pretty psyched to have a 12:00 start time. My hour and twenty minute drive was a bit more casual and relaxed than normal. I left myself enough time so I didn’t have to race too get there…I didn’t have to. As I approached the hallowed grounds of Woodstock on the exact day of the 54th anniversary of the final day of the original festival, in true Bethel fashion,it was wet out. It had rained the night before. It rained a lot. It rained so much, that the 12:00 opening of the campground had been changed to 6:00, as I was told by the construction sign that was posted a mile or so before the venue…which I drove by at 11:35.
I’m not sure if anyone was prepared for what came next. Well, the festival people are probably used to it, but we were given minimal information. I had two guards set up at each of six stations. The cars were to pull up to the station and we would wand all the campers and inspect the contents of the vehicles for weapons and glass bottles…and bicycles. Next thing I knew, we had about 600 cars lined up in our six lanes and through the hilly country roads of Bethel. It was about six hours of steady inspections, funny conversations and glass bottle confiscation. Beer and vodka were probably the most common. Champagne was pretty popular. Tequila, whiskey and drink mixes were next. 99% of the campers were fun and friendly and we allowed some to transfer their booze into plastic containers. It was amusing to watch people dump bottle after bottle of Poland Spring water and refill them with liquor. By the end of the night, I had enough alcohol to open a small liquor store in a busy little town. Sadly, it all stayed behind.
Our crew worked hard and we processed about 1,000 cars, vans, campers and RV’s well before midnight. Many, many glass bottles were confiscated. Many gallons of liquor were transferred into small plastic water bottles. Several bicycles had to be relocated. A few weapons had to be re-homed. Right around midnight, we shut down five lanes and left one open for the stragglers. I dismissed the guards and stayed behind for another 45 minutes, waiting for my replacements, who showed up an hour and a half late. All in all, things worked out and the festival people said we did a great job and moved at a perfect pace.
Little did I know that this was just the beginning of a very long weekend of figuring it out as I go along…
It was an hour and a half drive to The College Of Saint Rose in Albany. I was dropping Maria off for a trial run day of classes. This is the second step of the process to get into their “College Experience” program, which will teach her life skills and give her real world work experiences Needless to say, she is very excited about the opportunity to go to a real college and live in a dorm. I, on the other hand, am not as excited at the prospect of her living an hour and a half away. On the drive up to Albany, I explained to her that they are looking for students who pay attention AND participate. I told her to stay off her phone (a nearly impossible task) and answer questions. She promised me she would and when we arrived, I walked her up to the young woman in charge of the program, who remembered her by name from the last time we were there. She greeted Maria with a big smile and a warm welcome. Maria was a little bit nervous, but much more excited and took off up the stairs, following the line of other prospective students who were already on their way.
I watched her walk away before turning around and heading back to my car. As I stood there, I thought about the ramifications of all of this. The person who has been pretty much attached to my hip for most of her 18 years of life, may soon be living an hour and a half away from me…full time. Every day. I suppose I should be happy it’s not across the country and I am very grateful that she has the opportunity, but it will be a big change- for both of us. We shall see. There’s one more step to go before they decide which six students they will accept into the program. If she does get accepted, everything will hinge upon her being approved for SSI benefits, which is what the program uses for payment. I most definitely do not want my daughter to rely on the government to pay her way through life. I want her to have the opportunity to make it on her own, but without SSI, it costs over $60,000 per year, plus other expenses. Sadly, Social Security is run by the government and well…let me just say that when it comes to getting things done in a timely manner, their track record is less than impeccable- which leads me to my story.
I pulled away from the Saint Rose parking lot and watched the campus slowly disappear in my rear-view mirror as I wiped what could have been mistaken for a tear from my eye. I am leaving my daughter behind with strangers, seventy miles from home. Unsure of what to do with myself for the next six hours, before leaving, I quickly looked up “diners” on my phone and found a quaint- and by “quaint,” I mean dumpy, little place in nearby Troy- and by “dumpy,” I mean it almost looked abandoned- and by “abandoned ,” I mean I drove past it three times and sat in the small, unpaved, dirt parking lot for a good five minutes, looking for another option, before mustering up the courage to go inside. It was one of those places where the front door was actually in the back of the building. As I approached the old, somewhat rickety steps, a well dressed elderly couple was walking out. They seemed happy and friendly, as I waited for them to work their way down the narrow, old wooden stairs. The woman thanked me, and I walked to the back-front door, feeling a little bit better about my decision. It was clean inside with plenty of booths and tables and a large countertop with a row of stools. I looked around and to my surprise, there was a crowd…of one. Me. Just me. Yay. I was quickly greeted by a friendly, older woman who seemed happy to have a customer. She looked like a waitress in a small-town diner and was very nice. She walked me to a booth and within seconds, I had a hot cup of coffee sitting in front of me. Not just a hot cup of coffee, but coffee served in one of those old fashioned, heavy coffee mugs. Not a big, huge one- the normal size, but the kind you need two hands to hold. A real diner coffee cup. The coffee was average, but the mug made up for it. I scoured the menu and they had all your standard diner dishes. The waitress came back to take my order and I just happened to glance at the wall behind me and noticed one of the specials…Italian omelet. I’m in. I couldn’t quite make out the smaller writing describing what was in it, but as I thought of all the possibilities, I knew it would be great. Well, apparently, you make an Italian omelette by making a western omelette and adding mozzarella cheese. Delicioso. Now what shall I do for the next five hours??
This is an old picture from the web. It really doesn’t look this nice!
Let’s turn the clock back forty or fifty years. I never really loved school, but I am grateful that I had some very memorable teachers in my elementary years and one big influence in my love of American history- my dad. This love would not show itself for a long, long time. Growing up, we were not a wealthy family who vacationed all over the world, but we had fun. My dad would plan camping trips all over the east coast, visiting historic landmarks. Not the world’s biggest ball of twine, but battlefields, colonial villages and places with significant ties to the establishment of our great country. Places that I may not have fully appreciated then but do now. We would travel in a huge four door American made sedan with a gas guzzling eight cylinder engine, pulling a pop-up camper. I didn’t think I even knew fancy hotels existed. We went to places like Gettysburg, Valley Forge, Jamestown, Salem, Williamsburg. We drove for hours. My brother Joe and I sang songs, played games and we argued. We rarely wore seatbelts, sometimes took turns lying on the massive upper deck, below the rear window and occasionally got the, “Dont make me pull over” talk, but all in all, we had fun and grew to appreciate the effort our parents put into these outings. So, what should I do in Albany? Naturally, I will tour the Capitol building!
I looked on the New York State website and signed up online. Quick and easy and I was guest number three for my tour. I drove back to Albany and parked a couple of blocks away and walked to the massive, old building. On the way there, I passed a black car with New York Assembly license plates which was parked in the middle of two clearly marked spots. Two men in suits were standing next to the car, laughing. Shaking my head, I refrained from commenting and continued towards the Capitol. I walked into the building and chatted with the guards while going through security. After a few minutes of male bonding, they encouraged me to go to the state website to apply for a job, as they were hiring. I checked in at the tour booth and had a few minutes to wait, so I walked around a bit. The first thing I saw was a huge painting of George Washington. The father of our country and my birthday twin. The building was absolutely awesome, but what was truly amazing was that the first ten minutes of my guided tour would teach me all I need to know about the American political system. The construction of the building was originally bid out to Canadian architect, Thomas Fuller in 1867. His offer said he could do the job for four million dollars and it would take four years. It actually ended up costing 25 million- over 700 million in today’s dollars and it took 32 years. It went from one designer, to three, to five and has five different architectural styles. Best of all- it was never actually completed. Roosevelt finally pulled the plug on the project and proclaimed it complete, even though it was not. It has remained unfinished since 1899.
The building is absolutely amazing and the tour renewed my interest in American history. All of the carvings were created on site- and there were too many to count! The many faces of US founders and politicians and the many random, unknown faces that the carvers added. The designers did not want any duplications, so the carvers were free to put family members and random people in their work. They worked ten-hour days, carving faces and designs through the building. It is rumored that one of the carvers put the face of the devil in the trim on a wall after being fired. His objective was to curse the building. Our tour was running late and the volunteer tour guide said she wouldn’t have time to show us, but after a little persuading, she agreed to walk me to the spot after the tour ended and yes, he is there. He is camouflaged in some foliage in the brownstone trim, hidden in an elaborate piece that was above eye level and is only about the size of a nickel. I’m sure it was unnoticed for quite some time. Is he the reason why that building went many years over the deadline and many millions over the budget? Is he why New York still can’t balance a budget or reign in spending or do just about anything in a timely manner? Perhaps.
The Devil in the Capitol.
After the tour, I walked backed to my car, past the NY Assembly car still parked over two spots, to my legally parked car and left to retrieve my daughter. She couldn’t wait to tell me how proud she was of herself for not using her phone and for winning their game of Jeopardy. We got in the car and searched for a good sushi (her favorite) restaurant. We talked about our day and after asking how I liked my meal, she proclaimed it was her favorite sushi restaurant. The following week, I received an email from the college, inviting Maria to participate in the next step of the selection process- an overnight visit. This will involve me driving her back to Albany, dropping her off and driving home alone and leaving her in Albany for 24 hours. Sadly, it all hinges on the expediency of the government. Much like the building of New York’s capital, I don’t know if they’ll make the deadline, but much like the carvers, we’ll keep working at it. Calling, visiting, filling out forms and waiting, waiting, waiting.
I'm better on paper... 