I Crack Me Up!

New Years is the musician’s goldmine. It is the one night of the year that
a band can command up to twice what it would normally charge.
Not having a gig on New Years would be like a girl not being asked to the prom.
In the months that lead up to the big night there is a flurry of phone activity with most musicians asking each other “Are you booked for New Years”?

This particular year, my band had been asked to play for New Years Eve by a promoter I had not heard of before. It is fairly common practice for promoters with little experience to suddenly appear on the scene a month or two before New Years Eve. They will book a venue, hire a band, a caterer and then charge $75-$125 a ticket with the hopes of
walking away with a large chunk of money for one night.
On two occasions in the past I have witnessed the best intentions crumble
at the last minute due to poor advertising and just bad planning.
I learned my lesson and made sure I got a hefty deposit.
The venue he had chosen was the Old Holiday Inn off Robson
with a revolving restaurant on top.

The load in was one of the worst the band had ever experienced.
We had to load our gear into a tiny service elevator around the back
of the building and ride up to the 19th floor. We then had to take everything out of the
elevator and walk it down a cluttered hallway to load it all again into
another tiny elevator that would take us to the roof.
In a revolving restaurant there is a ring about 25 feet wide that
moves 360 degrees in about an hour. The bandstand was luckily in
front of the elevator when we arrived on top and we quickly loaded
our gear before it escaped too far. Set up was quite difficult
with such a narrow stage; behind us rose a 20 foot high window
that was engineered so that the top of the window was pushed out
at least 6 feet farther than the bottom. This gave a very panoramic
view of the surrounding city.
In setting up a band, however, one gets used to the world of 90 degree
angles and walls to lean things against. Setting up on this night was like setting up in a china shop. We finally got everything set just right and I noticed two people were
missing -- the promoter and our bass player.
“Downbeat,” as it is called was for 7 PM and we were now at 6:45 and
still no sign of either. It was 7:05 when the bass player lugged his amp and his bass towards the stage. I just wanted to do a good job and ignored the excuses and
just said, " let’s get started." He had not brought an extension cord
to help his bass amp reach to the closest power source which is often
longer than the amp cord. So in desperation, I decided to plug him
into the power bar located behind my guitar amp. I was using a
Roland JC-120 guitar amp at the time. I liked the great sound it produced and the convenience of the built-in wheels to help it roll around
with. On top of my guitar amp sat my Pevey 6 channel PA head for the
microphones.

I reached behind the amp to plug in the bass amp cord when the whole
amp swayed slowly backward on it wheels and crashed into the revolving window.
This was no ordinary window. The crack started at the bottom from the
impact from the corner of the amp head hitting it. To my horror it
grew like a convoluted spider web until every corner from floor to ceiling was joined by tiny cracks. I pulled the amp back onto the stage and stood watching dumb-struck
with my mouth wide open feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I looked at the band members and saw various degrees of shock on
their faces. I pictured a thought entering their collective minds: "Sucks to
be you man ….Ouch! "

I had to tell someone. I had no time to waste as people were arriving,
the lights were dimming and we had yet to tune up. I went downstairs hoping to find the promoter but I found only someone whom he had hired to take the money at the door.
This was the early days of cellphones when they were still the size of bricks
and I didn’t have his number to call him.

I went downstairs to find someone in management but could only find
the catering staff. When I returned to the bandstand the lights had
dimmed and the shattered window was leaving the scene of the crime.
I decided we should start playing and we did the first set. It was
very hard to concentrate knowing that any moment the window could
break and shower the busy street 30 floors below with thousands of shards of falling glass.

During the third song of the second set, the promoter finally arrived with
two of the managers. They stood pointing at me and waving their arms
in the air. The head honcho of the hotel shook his head stormed off.
I had a bad feeling about this and dreaded the rest of the night having to
deal with the promoter and management. I had visions of not being paid
and having to be on the hook for the band's wages.

And so we reached the end of an otherwise uneventful New Year’s Eve party. After the last song of the night, I went to find the promoter, received our wages and paid out the band members. I made it clear to each one of them as I paid them that the band would be on the hook for half the cost of the window replacement. Not one of them offered to help with the cost of the window even though they were receiving three times what they would normally make on a gig throughout the year. They all took their money and fled into the night.
I packed the sound system and my guitar gear by myself and
threaded it downstairs to my van.

As it turned out, the cost of the window was shared three ways by the hotel, the promoter and myself. The hotel decided it didn’t want to increase the insurance deductible by claiming the window so in the end my share was $800.
I asked for an invoice from the glass company they were using which was faxed to me and I decided in the end to pay the cost. I could have complained and
tried to make a stink even taking it to small claims court. It has been my experience however, that the stress endured in situations like that more than outweighs the cost
one might save even if you win. I was the contractor, I broke the window so I paid the $800 out of my own pocket and wished myself a Happy New Year.

I have since changed my concept regarding the traditional term “band” and the so-called loyalties assumed therein. From that day forward I use only Union musicians as a farmer would hire hands to help harvest ripe fruit. I now phone around to see who’s available when I need them. Now I know where they got the term “Hired Gun”