The Prog Celebrity Tales

Certif1ed:

It would be exceptionally unfair for me to participate in this thread, given that I have been "in the right place at the right time" more than any person has any right to expect in a lifetime.  Thus, although the following is meant simply to give you an idea, I'm sure many people will accuse me of "name-dropping" - something I have avoided like the plague.

My year as Asst. Stage Mgr. at The Beacon Theater (1975-1976) led to smoking spliffs with Bob Marley, sharing a joint with Carlos Santana, hanging out with the Grateful Dead, Queen, Joe Cocker, Supertramp, Genesis (Trick tour, with Bruford...) et al.  Working for the Dead, I became pretty close with Mickey Hart, who a year later invited me to a Ravi Shankar concert, where I met both Ravi and one of your "buddies": George Harrison.

My 11 years as an assistant to guitar legend Les Paul led to interactions with almost every major musician in rock, jazz, and country: Paul McCartney, Brian May, David Gilmour, Slash, Eddie Van Halen, Jimmy Page, Steve Miller, Al DiMeola, Rick Derringer, James Hetfield, Bucky Pizzarelli, Chet Atkins, Bireli Lagrene - the list is a long one.

My 10 years as head of an event management and PR firm specializing in high-profile, celebrity-driven fundraising events led to so many celeb interactions it would be impossible to list them all: from supermodels (Cindy, Christie, Naomi, Elle, etc.) to supermoguls (Donald Trump et al) to music legends (Ringo Starr, Wilson Pickett, The Persuasions et al).

Some of the non-music ones are as good or better than the music ones: Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Terence Stamp, Jacqueline Bisset, Madonna...

Many of my family members and friends have been urging me to write a book about my celebrity encounters.  I've been giving it some thought, but I'm not sure I have the patience to actually sit down and write them all out.

Anyway, despite my numerous (!) encounters, I am always thrilled to hear others' stories.  Just yesterday I met a woman who told me that, when she was 13, she got a chance to dance with Fred Astaire.  How cool is that?!!!  Her husband was also a fairly close friend of Frank Sinatra - and you just don't get any bigger than that (except maybe Elvis and The Beatles).

Peace.

I met Robert Plant at the 1986 Fairport Reunion in Croperdy, I was buying a bong at the time and, as if by way of drawing attention to his presence, he asked, "So, people are still smoking that stuff eh?". I remember thinking, Oscar Wilde you aint, mate!

Then there was the time I took my kid brother to see Hawkwind with an anarchist punk mate, whose girlfriend's best mate's boyfriend was the drum tech/roadie. After the gig, Brum Odeon '88, we used our tenuous connections to gain access to the post gig party, backstage. OH YES. Those guys can party!!!

maani: The point of this thread is not so much to name-drop, although with a topic like this, of course there's bound to be an element of that. I'm more interested in funny or wierd stories - of which I guess you must have an abundance - so just one or two of your favourites would be really cool (especially now you've mentioned them...). Please note, I am not claiming that GH (RIP) was a "buddy", just that I had a couple of beers with him and Gary. I was actually a bit too much in awe to make much conversation with George. The oddest thing, of course, was meeting him on "home territory", as his "house" is almost in Henley town center.

I liked threefates story of Gary Moore baby-sitting her son while she went off for a heart-to-heart with Greg Lake - and emdiar is soo right about Hawkwind; I didn't so much meet them as "share some space" (to coin a phrase!). It was Stonehenge in 1982, and a bucket was being passed around after Hawkwind's amazing set, as it was a free festival, but obviously someone had to pay money to put on such an amazing show. I can tell you there wasn't just money in that bucket . Anyway, it looked somewhat full, so I took it backstage, and ended up in a large yert where many people were gathered around and smoking pipes of peace. I really don't remember much about what happened next, but I ended up at a party in an old hunting lodge in Farley Hill, owned by a guy called Richard who had a painted leather jacket...

threefates - looks like you must have a couple more funny/interesting/wierd stories tucked away there

Oh, I forgot... some pictures

Bob Moog & me now

http://img6.photobucket.com/albums/v20/Pebble/ELP/BBK-Linda- Bob.jpg

Me & Keith Emerson now.. with a pic of me & Keith from 1974 on the back of my shirt...

http://img6.photobucket.com/albums/v20/Pebble/ELP/Keith-Lind a2.jpg

Me & Greg Lake from ELPowell 1986

http://img6.photobucket.com/albums/v20/Pebble/ELP/GregLake-L inda1986.jpg

me & Rick Wakeman in May 2004

http://img6.photobucket.com/albums/v20/Pebble/ELP/P1010047.j pg

Me & Carl Palmer - 2003

http://img6.photobucket.com/albums/v20/Pebble/Carl%20Palmer/ CarlShows-Sheffield-LindaCarl2.jpg

Me backstage at Soldiers Field with ELP, 77

http://img6.photobucket.com/albums/v20/Pebble/Linda-Orch-77. jpg

It may be blocking it for you... but it ain't blocking it forme....

And Bob Moog and nudity just don't fit well in the same sentence...

Certif1ed wrote: threefates - looks like you must have a couple more funny/interesting/wierd stories tucked away there

Quite a few... I just can't repeat most of them !

My friend Joren here just had to administer CPR since I had an heartattack because of your stories....

BASTARDS!!!

I guess they performed mouth to mouth.... Kids?

Oy, if they only knew how to party....

Certif1ed:

Although I haven't decided to do "the book" yet, I have written down a few of the more "fun" stories.  Here's one from my days at The Beacon ("Richie" was my boss, the Stage Manager):

"Arriving one morning for load-in at my usual time, Richie pulled me over.  “Ian,” he said in a slightly hushed tone, one that had “reverence” written all over it, “You’ve gotta be especially on your toes today, and be careful what you say and who you say it to.”  I asked him why.  “We’re loading in Bob Marley and the Wailers, and you gotta keep in mind that while rastas are really nice people, they react to things differently than we do.”  I thought about it, and replied, “Richie, that’s because they’re always high.”  Although he tried to keep the stern look on his face, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Usually when we loaded in a band, the band itself did not show up until the sound check, somewhere between two and four in the afternoon.  However, with the Wailers, most of the band arrived about half an hour after the trucks, and helped supervise the load-in and stage set-up.

The vast majority of a band’s equipment went directly to the stage or the sound booth.  However, some equipment was always sent to the dressing rooms, located on the two floors behind and above the stage.  This usually consisted of an amp or two, a few guitars, and perhaps some percussion, just so the band could warm up a bit.  So it didn’t seem odd when one of the band members asked that a particular trap case – slightly larger than the usual ones that went to the dressing rooms – be sent upstairs.

About half an hour later - around eleven in the morning - the unmistakable smell of marijuana (or, in Jamaican parlance, “ganja”) filled the air.  A few moments later, a huge spliff (a Jamaican “joint”) was sent hand to hand down the stairs from the dressing rooms.  This was a traditional spliff, rolled in a corn husk and tied at each end with corn string (those strings in between each row of corn on a cob).  Curious, I went upstairs.  In the third floor dressing room were two roadies cleaning ganja and rolling spliffs.  Next to the two roadies was the large trap case.  And in the trap case – taking up the entire trap case - sat two Hefty trash bags absolutely bulging with marijuana.  (Cleaning ganja and rolling spliffs may have been their sole job, as they continued to do it for quite some time, the lighted spliffs eventually finding their way to the stage - and everywhere else.  By the time the audience was let in hours later, the entire theater was completely filled with a virtual cloud of marijuana smoke.  Audience members didn’t need to light joints to get high (though they did, of course); they needed only to breathe.)

At about noon, Bob Marley walked in.  I don’t think an entire minute had passed before he had a spliff in his hand.  He walked around the stage a few times, checking out the equipment, and also staring into the empty theater.  He stopped for a couple of moments at the edge of the stage and loudly sang a few lines acapella into the empty hall.  He then resumed wandering the stage, and ended up directly in front of me.  He handed me the spliff and looked at me quizzically. “Wha’tya do, mon?”  At first I thought he was greeting me, and then I realized he was asking me what I do.  I took a drag on the spliff and gave it back to him.  “Whatever nobody else wants to do,” I replied with a smile.  “’Dya fine me somma water, den?,” he asked.  “Sure,” I replied, and went to find him some water.  I returned a few moments later, and found him sitting on a trap case on the stage, hanging out with a couple of his bandmates.  I handed him the water, and asked, “Is everything going okay?”  He looked at me with a big smile and said, “Now I ahv my water, evry’ting is Irie, mon!”

I walked away feeling surreal.  I had actually had a short dialogue, and smoked a spliff, with Bob Marley.  Bob Marley!  Although I met many other stars as big, maybe bigger, than him, it remains one of the absolute highlights of my year at The Beacon, and indeed one of the most memorable celebrity moments of my life.

Needless to say, the concert itself was spectacular.  And, yes, after the show I got to hang out backstage with the band (and smoke a few more spliffs).  The best word to sum up that evening is: “Irie!"