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Roadie
- A True Story
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Once in a while a cakewalk gig would pop up. I got
one of these in the summer of 1976. It would be a
huge disco show in Washington, D.C. at the Capital
Center. The show would include K.C. and the Sunshine
Band, Rufus, featuring Chaka Khan, Heatwave, The Robot
Band, and Trammps.
A Dallas company called Showco was doing the sound
and lights. When they had an unusually large venue
(like the Capital Center rigged for maximum capacity),
they would contract for “supplemental sound”.
Basically another company (me in this case) would
truck in PA equipment and stack it on top of the existing
gear. Mics and boards weren’t needed, just extra
PA. In fact only one roadie was needed so I was solo
tonight. Drive to DC, unload, hook up to Showco, load,
drive home, easy money.
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Also during the show I had nothing to do so I actually got
to go trolling in the audience for young ladies that wanted
a lasting relationship (as long as it only lasted about two
hours). Everything went perfectly. It was a union house (with
forklifts) so I lifted nothing. My speakers went on top of
theirs to create a monstrous stack of power. Once I confirmed
that my system was on line and in sync with Showco, I took
the rest of the day off.
I got to meet KC (a very unassuming guy) during their sound
check. I also got to sit at the main board during the Rufus
sound check and give my two cents worth to Chaka’s soundman
who had struck up a friendship with me. Chaka came out to
the soundboard and based on the conversation he wasn’t
just her soundman, if you catch my drift. All the other bands
had their time to check sound, and after a gourmet meal in
the green room (I told you this was one of the best jobs I
had ever been on didn’t I?) they opened the house.
K.C. was hot, it was the height of Disco, and every female
under the age of 40 within a three state area was at this
show. I walked around the front edge of the crowd sporting
my all access backstage pass. Then she came up to me. Her
name was Stacy or Leslie or something like that. She was probably
16, give or take a year, but she looked every bit of 21. She
was decked out in full groupie costume, heavy make-up, short
tight dress, high heels, you get the picture. She wasted no
time in asking me the two key questions. “Are you with
the band? And “Can you get me backstage to meet K.C.?”
Yes and Yes. I exaggerated and said K.C. was a personal friend
of mine (well I had met him earlier in the day). She said
she would do ANYTHING to go backstage with me (she really
emphasized that word ANYTHING). Ok think fast, I would need
a pass and a quiet place where we wouldn’t be disturbed.
First things first, the pass. “Wait right here, don’t
move.” I pleaded, as I headed for the backstage area
to find a pass. Tactical error, I should have already picked
up a spare, I always carry a spare. Oh well, no sense in crying
over spilt milk, there is the Road Manager for K.C. I approached
him and said “Hey I just ran into an old college friend
that wants to meet K.C., I need a pass, OK?” He said.
“She’s not old enough to be in college.” Damn!
He had seen me talking to her from the stage. “No really,
it’s the sister of an old roommate of mine she’s
like family to me.” My desperation was beginning to show.
“I’m going to do you a favor (At last! A back stage
pass!) I’m going to keep you from going to jail. She
can’t be a day over 15 years old, they’ll throw
away the key.” I was about to start arguing that she
was at least 16, but I realized that it would be a losing
battle. I went back out to the audience found Leslie/Stacy
and told her they were all out of passes right now, but could
I sit with her and watch the show? She just turned and walked
away. The last thing I heard was her sweet little voice saying,
“Too bad you couldn’t get me back there, I’m
REAL good.”
I cursed that Road Manager for years after that night, but
today I realize he was absolutely right. Karl’s Roadie
Rule #9 “Everything happens for a reason”. By the
way, the entire show was fantastic, but it was a bitter consolation
prize.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2001 Karl Kuenning
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