Man, that brings back memories. In '75 and '76, while I was getting my MFA, I used to pick up extra money working lights for UNCG's Concert Lecture Series. We'd get in tours, bus-and-truck shows, things like that. The big rock acts played in Greensboro's performing arts center. We'd usually get smaller acts. The performing arts center was union (IATSE). We were not, so those occasional acts that came to our theater that were union had to use our crew. I was the assistant master electrician for the house. My boss, the master electrician, was a young woman named Terry. Two shows that I remember:
Hamilton, Joe, Frank and Reynolds (anyone remember them?): This was the loudest concert I ever worked. We usually had two people on the dimmer boards. These guys were so loud that I had the second person stand behind me and hold my headset to my ears so I could hear the stage manager call cues. He was like the guy in the clip, except far less competent: "Okay, on my cue, I want blue. And, blue . . . go!. No! No! I said BLUE! BLUE! Oh, wait, that is blue. Okay, that's good." During setup, he refused to talk to Terry -- couldn't believe a girl was in charge. He'd give instructions to me, I'd turn to Terry and say, "Is that okay?" She'd say, "Yes." I'd turn back to the stage manager and say, "Okay."
Judy Collins: Load-in for all big shows was controlled chaos. We'd have four hours to hang, plug, gel and focus two hundred or more lights. I'm on stage with the light plot, calling lights for focus, when this scruffy looking woman carrying a guitar case comes up to me. I thought she was a roadie and told her I was too busy to talk to her and she should find the stage manager. She persisted and, finally, I said, "Hey, lady -- we've got a big show in here tonight. Will you get lost so I can do my job?" That night I was running a follow spot. The house lights go to black and the stage manager calls, "Follows, go tight and pick up Judy as she enters up stage left . . . and, go." I do, and immediately say, "Oh, shit!" The scruffy looking lady who I kicked off the stage was Judy Collins. The stage manager asked me what was wrong. I said, "Nothing." He said, "Wait a minute . . . were you the one who spoke to Judy this afternoon? We all heard about you." I was so embarrassed that, as soon as the show ended, I went home.
Oh, and the theater I worked in was haunted and was where I had my first encounter with a ghost, but that's another story.
