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On the road, transactions were almost always handled in cash. This was the case for everything from a drug transaction to a sound company getting paid by the promoter for the services your company provided that night. This is partially dictated because in many cases the promoter didn't have all of the money needed to pay the band, sound company, light company, union crew, and the venue, until shortly before showtime. Every so often, a promoter wouldn't have enough money to pay everyone, or just wouldn't pay anyone; hence paranoia by anyone owed money on the road.

There was to be a show in Bridgeport, Connecticut in a hockey rink. We were doing sound and lights for what was supposed to be a monster funk show. The load in was smooth, union crew, forklifts, very cool. We brought everything we had for the PA (we needed it). The stage was at one end of "the ice" with open seating on the remaining floor (of course the ice was covered with plywood), and the normal arena seating was available as well. The venue was probably capable of holding over 15,000 fans. The show seemed well organized and nothing seemed unusual. There were six or seven bands including "Willie Alexander and the Boom Boom Band", "The Jimmy Castor Bunch", "BT Express", "The Manhattans", and "Bobby Blue Bland". There was plenty of promoter representation, plenty of food, plenty of security, nothing really out of the norm. Sound check was long and tedious, which was normal for that many bands. Everything was status quo.

About a half an hour before the show I went looking for the promoter to get paid the $5,000 that we were owed for providing sound and lights. I had heard ticket sales were good (something that a paranoid roadie starts looking into as early as when the truck door is cracked at load in). Strange, I couldn't find the promoter, only his hired help. Nobody knew where he was. I started to alert the various band Road Managers. We also alerted the stage union and security (really off duty cops, good to have them on your side if things got hairy). They had already opened the doors and ticket sales were indeed good. It wasn't a sell-out, but it would be a very full house. The start time came and went and no promoter. We all began to come to grips that he had skipped with the gate. Not a bad scam, collect all the ticket money, don't pay anyone, and take off before the show starts. A consortium consisting of representatives of several of the bigger bands, the sound and light company, the union, and security convened to decide what to do. The bands were split, some wanted to play others wanted to get paid or pack up. The union didn't care because it turns out they get paid in advance. It was the same with the arena. Well I had to go with Road Rule #10 "Get the money before the show", and I didn't dare come back to Rochester without the cash AND trying to explain why we did the show anyway.

Once the sound and lights were pulling out, the show was pretty much extinct. We left the PA on long enough for the police to announce that due to "circumstances beyond our control" the show was canceled. They assured everyone that they could go to the place they purchased their tickets for a full refund, even though that eventuality was in doubt at the moment. We struck the gear with a hand full of uniformed police between the crowd and us. This was a very unsettling experience. I even considered going ahead with the show at one point, but the bands were pulling their gear so there was no turning back now. We closed the doors and didn't stop until we got into New York State.

Now it's a year or so later, and we are doing a show in Cleveland. This show is much smaller than Bridgeport (and is in the same theatre that I did that show with Blue Öyster Cult back on my first road trip). The show on this night is to star "Cameo", "Bottom & Company", and "Maze." Like Bridgeport everything went well, good crew, good food, good promoter. Tonight though I wasn't going to wait until 30 minutes until curtain to get paid, I had learned my lesson. I confronted the promoter during sound check and presented him with our invoice for $5,000, the agreed upon price. "Hey no problem, you guys are great," he replied, "come with me". He led me to a stage office he had commandeered for the evening and produced a briefcase. Out of the briefcase he handed me a business check carefully made out for $5,000. A check! Did this guy think I was new? "I'm sorry, I can't take a check unless it's certified," I asserted. He looked like I had just insulted his mother. "It's good, you can call the bank," he offered. "Not on a Saturday night", I pointed out. "Let's call your boss", he countered. So we called the owner of the sound company at home back in Rochester, luckily he was there. I presented the problem and he gave me the answer I knew he would give, "cash only, no checks".

Myself and the other sound and two light roadies went across the street and had a nice Chinese dinner while the promoter tried to gather up $5,000 in cash on a Saturday night. Bear in mind that this was years before ATM machines. We returned to the Agora about an hour before the show completely prepared to strike the show. There was the promoter, notably irritated, waiting for me. "Come into my office" he said closing the door behind me. "Here it is, "please count it". He had pulled it off; he had produced $5,000 in cash. I started counting the large stack of bills and realized where it came from. It was all in denominations of fives, tens and twenties. He had cashed his own check at the box office. I had the money and that's all that mattered. The count was right; the show was a go. After I had stashed the cash in my Anvil briefcase (without anyone seeing) I left the office and went to my place at the monitor board. Usually show cash is kept in your billfold or hidden in your pants if it's a lot. With all the small bills it pretty much filled my entire briefcase, not leaving me any options. I locked the case and then hid it inside a larger road case, which I sat on for the entire show. The show went smoothly.

I'm sorry but I don't remember the performance, but you'll understand why shortly. At the conclusion of the show things happen very fast. The same paranoia that forces cash transactions also mandates a mad dash to the stage to retrieve and account for all the microphones. Failure to do that could cause one or two of the most expensive mics to accidentally end up in a band roadie's back pocket, and then spirited away (e.g. "I didn't see any microphone"). The show ended, and I had a dilemma. Guard the cash, or get the mics. Remember Roadie Rule #3 "Never turn your back on anything of value on the road." Well that didn't help since I had to favor one valuable thing or another. I thought about leaving the briefcase hidden and gathering the mics. No good, that case would be opened in a matter of seconds, and if a stagehand found my briefcase hidden there he'd figure out it was valuable. Then I got it! I had been hanging out with a security guard all night stage left. I removed my case from its hideout, handed it to the guard and asked him if he'd watch it for a minute or two. I hit the stage worried because precious seconds had expired with my valuable mics exposed. I grabbed the four most expensive ones and headed back to the mic case next to the guard who was watching my briefcase. I looked up and he was gone.

I couldn't have been gone more than 30 seconds, long enough for him to turn tail and run with the $5,000. I also lost my first Anvil Briefcase that night, including dozens of backstage passes that proved I was now an experienced roadie. Ironically the Blue Öyster Cult backstage pass from that very spot in that very theatre from that first road trip two years ago was now gone forever as well. The trip home that night was long and hard. I wondered if I'd have a job on Monday morning. I called Duffy at home Sunday and gave him the bad news. At first I think he suspected that I had pocketed the cash, but I must have been convincing because he allowed me to come to work Monday. However he wasn't at all happy about losing the money.

There are two things that haunt me about that night. The first is that I have no doubt now the promoter's check was good and that if I had accepted it, everything would have been fine. Second, this would not be the last time the city of Cleveland would be horribly cruel to me.

All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2001 Karl Kuenning