Crossed My Heart

Posted on by mikeberretta


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 love my job.

You Never Know What You’re Gonna Get.

Posted on by mikeberretta

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…

Surprise Show Of The Year??

Posted on by mikeberretta

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.

Two Nights Of Doobies

Posted on by mikeberretta

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.

A Jem of an evening…

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It’s been a crazy few months for me. I’ve worked more shows than I can count- or even remember! Some big shows at large venues and some smaller ones at clubs. I really love them all- even the bands I’m not familiar with, but last Thursday night will be permanently etched into my top five. I had been trying to get on the schedule to work one of my all time favorite guitar player’s shows at The Capital Theater in Port Chester. Every time I asked, I was told I am next on the list…next….next…next. After weeks of waiting and asking, I finally got a call a couple of days before the show, asking if I am available to work AND come in early to work the meet and greet. I said, “Could I?? I will quit my day job if they don’t let me out early.”

I have been a fan of Steve Vai as long as I can remember. I never got to see him perform with Frank Zappa, but I saw him with David Lee Roth, Whitesnake, a few solo tours and more recently with Nuno Bettencourt, Zakk Wylde , Yngwie and Tosin Abasí on the last Generation Axe tour. He’s an amazing guitar player and he’s always seemed like a very cool guy- especially during Covid, with the YouTube videos he put out.

Being given the opportunity to see him up close and at a meet and greet was awesome. Let me make one thing clear- I am not a guitar player.Not even close. I started playing the drums at five years of age. Although I am miles from being a professional, it came pretty naturally to me, but I always loved the guitar…the music, the sounds…the many beautiful, different shapes and colors that have been created over the years…the ability to create music and songs anyplace you go…the coolness factor. I actually own a few, because I love them, and I’ve tried to play them, but sadly, I do not possess the gene that allows you to put your fingers on the correct strings at the proper time, so I’ve remained an unrequited lover of the instrument, admirer of those who possess the talent and fan of any music with an accomplished guitarist- and Steve Vai became a fast favorite of mine.

The first person I met from the tour was Steve’s son, Fire. Yes. Fire- and for the record, Steve did yell, “Fire!” Several times in a crowded room. Fire was a very nice young man who was frantically trying to get ready for the 70 plus fans coming to the meet and greet. I had some time to kill, so I offered to help Fire get organized, which involved prepping gift bags, moving merch out to the trailer and cleaning up the resulting mess. We had some nice conversations about music and no, he doesn’t play guitar much, although he’s a dead ringer for Steve when he was younger. He was refreshingly surprised when I asked him about his musical tastes and preferences, and not questions about his famous father. It was nice to hear him honestly say that his dad is his favorite musician now, though he wasn’t as appreciative of his talent when he was younger. I informed him that I saw his father perform several times before he was even born. I was enjoying the experience and conversation so much, I almost forgot about the main reason why I was there (besides work)- until Steve Vai walked briskly into the lobby. He is very skinny and unassuming, with much shorter hair than he (and most other older rock stars) once had. He did not burst into the room to meet his devoted fan who left his job four hours early to work his show, but to ask if we could keep it down because he was in the middle of an interview in the adjoining bar. Not really the introduction I had hoped for.

We finally got everything all set and his most devoted fans were lined up to enter the lobby of the theater. Fire asked if I could stay inside with him and I checked with my boss and he gave me the go ahead. We greeted the attendees and handed out the gift bags. Then Steve arrived. He is truly a master of his craft and musically, a freak of nature. He is remarkably intelligent and a bit of a philosopher, as well. I said hello as he entered the room and that was as much of a conversation as I would get to have with him. He spoke to his fans with sincerity and interest in their questions and stories. He talked a little about guitar technique and the music business and he spoke about life and happiness. He took pictures with them, with his guitar by his side and he was kind to everyone, even though everything was running late. Like I’ve said before, it’s always great when someone you admire turns out to be very cool when you meet them and not rude and arrogant an unappreciative of their fans.

The meet and greet was wrapping up and Fire was still hustling around, taking care of his dad and getting ready to move everyone into the theater for sound check. He had Steve’s beloved and infamous signature guitar, the Ibanez Jem he called, “Evo” in his hand. The beat up, old, white Ibanez guitar that Steve loves and abuses to make crazy, amazing thoughts come to life and turn them into music. He has many, many.,.MANY guitars and many versions of this model, but this was his favorite. Fire was calling to his brother, Julian to take the guitar. Julian was nowhere to be found. He looked at me, slightly panicked, as he had ten other things to do. I cautiously said, “Can I help?” He held the guitar out and asked me if I could bring it to the stage. Now, I know this is probably not a big deal to most people, but my musician friends know that this instrument is akin to Eddie Van Halen’s Frankenstrat or BB King’s Lucille. With an expression of shock and excitement on my face, I gladly obliged and took the guitar by the neck and his guitar stand in my other hand, as I walked through the lobby, half expecting photographers to be shooting pictures like I was on the red carpet at the Oscars. Sadly, nobody cared. Even sadder yet, both of my hands were occupied, so I could not even discreetly take out my phone to sneak a quick selfie.

Still, I was in my glory carrying that magnificent instrument that created sone of my favorite guitar pieces ever. Slowly I walked down the long aisle, between the soon to be occupied rows of seats, carefully up the stairs and onto the stage. I then walked by his absolutely insane, newest creation, the Hydra- a triple neck guitar, including 7- and 12-string guitars, a half fretted 4-string, bass guitar and 13 harp strings. Literally, the old and the new, side by side. Sadly, one of his crew members rushed over to me and thanked me as I gently relinquished the guitar into his hands and walked off the stage and down the steps to the theater floor. I stopped for a moment to look at that hunk of beat up, rebuilt and beat up again and again magical instrument, knowing that in just a few hours, it will be in the hands of a master guitar player, who will play it like very few people in the world can.

I believe I am pretty good at and dedicated to my job, but this time when I took my place in front of the stage, I angled my chair, just a tiny bit more than usual, so I could see Steve out of the corner of my eye and get an occasional view of the jaw dropping antics going on behind me. Sometimes it’s almost as fun to watch the faces of the fans during the show, to see their amazement and love for the music and the musicians. Little did they know, they had me to thank for getting Steve’s guitar up to the stage- and not sprinting to my car to add it to my unused collection! No, I didn’t steal Steve Vai’s prized guitar and I didn’t get to have a nice private conversation with him, but at the end of the night, Fire thanked me with an autographed picture and a few other souvenirs, but in all honesty, the thrill of holding that legendary guitar was more than enough thanks for me.