As the Eagle rounded the corner and slowed, passing the fleet again, the doors opened at the hotel, the security came out, and soon after, the entire posse emerged. Eddie was flanked by his troops, and we all began heading for the buses.
As I walked across the sidewalk to open the bay doors on the passenger side of my coach, Joe’s Eagle passed my coach on the other side one last time, slowly creeping along. I was third in line behind Eddie’s bus and the management bus.
Eddie’s bus was first and was driven by Chris B., a friend and fellow driver who was about to shake hands with Mr. Murphy and welcome him aboard. The Eagle came around the front of Chris’ unit pulling into the empty space in front of Chris’ bus in a jackknifed angle, the door opened, and Mickey Moe jumped out onto the sidewalk after setting his brakes.
“Hey BOSS! You shouldn’t be riding on that bus! You should be riding on this one!”
Eddie was on the steps of the Van Hool bus driven by Chris. His personal items were on there along with his luggage. All he had to do was step on, close the doors, and the tour would be under way. But he looked over at Mickey Moe and his beautiful shining bus, and for a second, all bets were off.
Eddie looked inside the Van Hool and then walked over to the Eagle. There was no comparison. Our buses were nice, real nice, but they were no match for Mickey Moe’s brand new bus. The artwork made it a lot flashier than the one he was standing in front of. Eddie walked to the door of the Eagle, looking at the beautiful artwork on the side as he walked toward the door. He went inside and never came out. In a few minutes, Eddie’s belongings were transferred to the Eagle, and Chris was left with his bus, as we pulled away and headed to the first show.
The rest of us followed the Eagle out of town and started the tour. Chris headed back to where he had come from without being able to dispute what was happening. I couldn’t believe what had just happened and realized even more what a tough business I had adopted for a career choice. Joe pinned the phrase: “No one ever said the life of a Rock ’n’ Roll bus driver was going to be easy.”
Florida Coach and Mickey Moe had taken advantage of a situation that wouldn’t exist today. Now there are agreements, contracts and cash deposits. But back in the ’80s, it was just about making the sale. Mickey Moe made it. And I learned many lessons from the tour and from Joe. Years later, he told me, “I was just following orders.” I never did find out if Chris paid $500 to get on that tour.
The Full Monty
As I started working on larger tours, I jumped onto the American Music Tour, a country gig with a rock show attitude. It wasn’t the Rolling Stones, but the crew clicked as well as one for a big act like the Stones. The tour featured five or six acts such as Janie Fricke, T.G. Sheppard, Sylvia and a few other up-and-comers from Nashville. It was a short run – 10 to 12 days or so – but it had a big production complete with big sound, big lights and dates in Louisiana, Texas and Oklahoma.
When the tour headed to Texarkana, Texas, for a show in the city that borders Arkansas, Janie’s bus broke down, so they had to improvise. A rented camper from a local Texas RV dealer helped them at least make the show on time. The onslaught of jokes from the crew and drivers was inevitable.
At the time, T.G. Sheppard had a couple of the nicest buses on the road, one of them being a Marathon. They were all dolled up with starry space scenes painted on both sides and T.G. I and T.G. II painted sharply next to the entrance doors. T.G. I was for T.G. Sheppard, and T.G. II was for his band. Before the day was over, someone had grabbed a pillowcase and taped it to the camper with the logo T.G. III painted on it.
It seemed that Janie and her band were the brunt of many of the jokes on this tour, all in good fun. By the time we arrived in Lubbock, Texas, the jokes were getting out of hand. The crew guys emptied a rigging case just before Janie was to take the stage and convinced a well-hung local guy to get naked in it. How they figured out he was well hung was not information I’d been privy to. They constructed a sign proclaiming, “WE LOVE YOU JANIE!” and they wheeled the case to the side of the stage. The venue had seats and a walking area between the stage and where the crowd was sitting in the front row so they could look up without getting neck cramps.
Janie was in the middle of one of her hit songs when four crew guys rolled the case between the first row and the stage. Just as she was hitting a high note, the case was opened, and the well-hung local guy sat up and put the sign over his face. The crew rolled the case from stage right to stage left. The crowd, not being able to see into the case, never caught a glimpse of the well-hung local guy. Janie, however, got the full monty without missing a beat. She just smiled, pointed her finger and kept singing.
Hard work with a little play is a good way to earn a buck.
Chapter 6 Rolling With Rock Royalty
1988 was a very good year for Rock ’n’ Roll. I got to roll with some of the biggest acts around. In addition to jumping on tour with R.E.M. for a stretch, I got the call to work with Van Halen. You didn’t like Rock ’n’ Roll if you didn’t like Van Halen, and I love Rock ’n’ Roll. They were definitely a favorite of mine by the time I had joined the tour.
One reason Van Halen was so awesome, at least to guys like me, is that they had the perfect music to blast in your car while driving. A friend at home, affectionately known as D-Day, blasted them non-stop on his car stereo, and he had one of the loudest and clearest in the neighborhood. Getting stoned and riding in the back seat of his car while he drove like a maniac was like a rite of passage. We cruised around town, looking for the parking lots where kids congregated, and he would always be playing Van Halen at the highest levels he could. It rocked! When we listened back in those days, David Lee Roth was the lead singer, but when I joined the tour, the front man was Sammy Hagar. When I got that call, I thought, “I wonder what D-Day would think about this?”
I had dropped another tour and headed to Lexington, Kentucky, where the band was rehearsing for their second leg of the tour. Van Halen had just finished up the Monsters of Rock tour with groups such as Metallica, Scorpions, Dokken and Kingdom Come. After that tour finished, they went out on their own to support their album, “OU812.” It was going to be an American trek and then over to Japan.
I was assigned to take care of the backline crew and some sound guys from Audio Analysts, one of the best sound crews in the business. You knew it would be a good tour if these guys were working on it. The backline crew consisted of drum and guitar techs, and one of the techs on my bus was Zeke Clark, Eddie Van Halen’s guitar tech. Zeke was tall and lanky, and since he was the man behind the man, the world seemed to revolve around him. Since I was the new guy, I was going to be assigned backline, and since I had only been with this company for a year, I thought I was getting thrown under the bus, so to speak. The other drivers wanted a more mellow experience. I was going to drive the party bus.
When I talked to the lead driver, he started giving me the lowdown. Basically, he gave me the lowdown about Zeke. Oh joy! A sensitive roadie! Zeke was the one who designed Eddie Van Halen’s most famous guitar, now named after its player.
“If Zeke ain’t happy, nobody’s happy,” was the company line.
I got an earful about how weird and sensitive Zeke was and how I needed to take care of him and the other party animals. I was unimpressed.
“As long as they walk out on their own, I don’t care who rides back there,” I said. “I’m here for the check. As long as the check doesn’t bounce, be as weird as you want. I’ll take care of anyone. The normal way I do my job.”
There was a joke going around with our crew that if Zeke hadn’t been born, there would be no touring industry. Basically, Zeke invented it, came up with the idea one night at a party. Despite the joking, I started thinking of ways I could get him on my side. Anything to make a tour run better. I didn’t need a sensitive roadie worrying about my driving skills or my habits.
I was lucky in one sense because I had a fairly new Florida Coach, Model 10 Eagle. It was in min
t condition, was smooth and had a strong motor. I loved it. There were these absolutely eye-catching murals painted on the side, and the interior had slightly dark wood and brown carpet. It was a beauty. No matter what the ride looked like, my main concern was Zeke. I needed to figure out how to make this relationship work, and I was working on a way to offset any aggravations he may send my way. Hell, I was just stoked to see Van Halen live.
I arrived at Rupp Arena on a Thursday and got myself acquainted with the tour management. I got all my credentials, and I was able to watch a rehearsal. Van Halen was tweaking this song, rehashing that one, and I, along with a few members of the crew, were lucky to be getting a personal show. This was definitely one of the perks, seeing something that no fan gets to see, the band goofing off and playing great music when no one else is around. The next day was show day.
My day started late since we weren’t on the road yet, and I had to take the backline over to the gig. I grabbed nine guys and introduced myself and made my first run. With that out of the way, I went back to the hotel for some sleep. I wanted to get a nap so I could come back and see the first show. The upcoming overnight’s drive to Cincinnati was a whopping two hours. I wasn’t in any danger of being exhausted. I got back for the show and was reminded of another great aspect of the Van Halen experience – beautiful women, who didn’t hesitate to flash their breasts. Many sat on their boyfriends’ shoulders, which seems a bit odd to me to let your girlfriend show off her breasts to a rock star, who could snatch her up with a nod of the head or a point of the finger. Either way, it was a good show.
I got back to the bus to prep and got my pizza ration for the night. Pizza on a tour bus after a show is a given. I sat in the front lounge table of the coach when Zeke walked in. We had shaken hands already, but this was the first one-on-one time I spent with him.
He gave me a look... a roadie look. On a regular show day, drivers don’t usually return until the hour before they are going to drive.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a way that only Zeke could ask. I just smiled.
“I came to watch you do your gig, man,” I replied. “I heard you were the best guitar tech in the business.” I had added a bit more Southern twang to my voice as we engaged in a bit of a staring contest. He tossed a few personal items on his bunk, grabbed a piece of pizza and plopped down at a table across from me. He took a bite and with his mouth full of pizza, he asked, “So how long have you been driving a bus?” He had the King Roadie tone in his voice, and so all notions of kissing his ass flew right out the window. I had to have some fun. I mustered up as much hillbilly in my voice as I could.
“Shucks, dis mah first day-uh,” I said. “Way-ell, I mean my sec-unt day-uh. Yes-tir-day-uh wuz mah first day-uh when I drove hee-er.” Then I grinned. Big Cheshire grin. Zeke dropped his pizza.
“What? You never drove a bus before?”
I kept the twang, but maybe not as severe as before.
“Naw. Last week, I was at a truck stop in Arkansas with a load of goats on my trailer when one of these fancy buses pulled up. I went over to look at it, and I told him how pretty it was. I said I wish I could drive something that pretty. Well, he must have been mad about something because he said he was quitting, and if I wanted the job I could have it. So we walked over to a phone and called the owner. That guy quit on the spot, and I drove the bus over there, and he told me to drive it over here, and now I’m here, and I’m real glad to be here.” I put the twang back in my voice. “What’chur name agin?” I even finished with a traditional Scooby Doo giggle.
Zeke just stared at me for a second. He took another bite of pizza, threw the rest of it on the table.
“You’re fucking joking me.”
“Naw, it’s all true!”
Zeke quickly walked out the door.
It was fun, but now I had to figure out how I would approach him when he came back. He didn’t come back immediately though, so I walked around to see how the load out was going. Before a tour rolls away from its first show, it can take some time to get a hold of the truck-packing routine. Rupp Arena is also a pain to load and unload from, not a concert-friendly building.
I walked past the production office, and Frank, the production manager, yelled over at me.
“Bus driver! Come here!” He didn’t know my name yet. He had a big crew with him. That was cool. But I could tell he was stressed.
“Listen,” he said. “Do me a favor, and don’t get Zeke all excited, will ya?” I should have figured Zeke would come here first. He made a beeline over to Frank to complain about me. Frank tried to assure him that I hadn’t been a goat hauler the day before, but Zeke didn’t seem that convinced. Apparently, he was tracking down the other passengers on my ride and informing them of my driving history. I figured that I wasn’t fired, so I headed back to the bus. I sat down and waited for Zeke. When he showed up, I went right back into my newly donned persona.
“Dang, I wish they would hurry up. I want to drive this thing again.”
“Shut up,” Zeke said. “I know you’re not new. So quit fucking around.”
For some reason, my little interplay with him worked. We had a good relationship after that, and I was filled in on some of the great Rock ’n’ Roll backstage stories that only a roadie like him could tell. He really is one of the most famous roadies I’ve ever driven. Just ask him.
Another tech that rode on my bus was Kevin D., Michael Anthony’s bass guitar tech. Kevin had worked for a lot of bands, and he is respected in the industry. We had two shows in one town, and since I knew the bus wouldn’t be moving at all, I decided to join the party for one night. I got to see the show and have more than a few drinks. Kevin knew I had seen plenty of shows from off the side of the stage, but I had never seen one from under the stage, so that’s where we headed. That was where Kevin tuned the bass guitars while the show was going on.
Like a lot of big rock bands, Van Halen had an elaborate stage design. Kevin was under the stage, but he was off the floor. There was another part of the stage that was elevated above the rest where the musicians could run up, tower over the crowd and get them riled up. In Kevin’s work station were racks of bass guitars. On the other side of the stage in a similar position was where Zeke worked. Kevin was like a surgeon for bass guitars. His carefully prepared workstation consisted of a table with a tablecloth draped over it. This gave him a clean slate to use his high-tech tools and do his work on the guitars.
As he did his job, he mixed in fun, too. There were two bottles of Jack Daniels sitting next to his cases, and they were easily accessible for Michael. He would reach down and grab it, take it on stage and take a swig or two during a song, all to the roaring approval of the crowd. This happened every night, and I was convinced that it wasn’t 100 percent whiskey.
So this happened again. Michael grabbed the Jack bottle, kicked it back and bent back down to the area where Kevin and I were standing. He then handed me the bottle and gave me the universal “kick it back” sign. I turned the bottle up and tried to equal his input.
It wasn’t tea!
Michael and Kevin had a hearty laugh at my expense, and Michael ran back out on stage while I was still coughing and choking.
A real Rock ’n’ Roll show. I loved every minute of it.
Chapter 7 The Lip-Syncer In The Hat
Did I know?
When people find out that I drove Milli Vanilli once upon a time, that’s the first and only question that leaps to mind. The duo of Rob and Fab was the top selling musical act in the late 1980s. Then there was the scandal that broke out over their lip-syncing tour and the acceptance of a Grammy based on false pretenses.
Of course I knew. The day I arrived for the tour, I had to sign a contract, along with others, about keeping my mouth shut. Keep my mouth shut and make some good wages or blab blab and go looking for more work. I know lots of secrets if you want to call them that. I don’t have a problem being quiet about what’s going on behind or under the stage when t
he world is being entertained. What difference does it make? In my opinion, being entertained is the most important part. Fooling the public is what keeps them coming back. I had already driven several legs of the New Kids On The Block tour along with a few others who had drawn accusations of lip-syncing.
On the Milli Vanilli tour, I was assigned to drive a coach that had a recording studio in the rear. I transported the band that played on the stage with Rob and Fab. The front lounge was a normal tour bus setup with bunks in the hall, but the rear lounge was loaded with the most modern recording equipment available at the time. Assigned to drive the other bus on the tour with me was a good friend and mentor, Larry C. He had been T.J. Sheppard’s driver a few years earlier on the American Tour.
After the shows each night as we drove to our next destination, Rob and Fab would usually get on my bus with the band and a tech and work on new material until the early morning hours. They had a great remix of a song by Deep Purple called “Hush” in the works. I would drive into the night while Rob, Fab and the band worked on new songs. Of course, there was partying, too. When they were tired, we would pull over, and the two stars would move to the other bus where they slept.
The tour started in Louisville, Kentucky, and after several days of rehearsals and a big ol’ lip-syncing show, we headed east toward the bigger markets. Milli Vanilli was one of the last shows in the old Richfield Coliseum in Richfield, Ohio, just south of Cleveland. They were very popular, but of course, the question was always there. We had 60 shows on the bill, and all but one was sold out. There was even a festival show in Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada, which played to over 60,000 fans.
Some days, Rob was really working his way toward being a rock diva. One day in Shreveport, Louisiana, he grew a massive frown after I had laughed out loud at one of his insane ideas. The show had played my hometown the night before in a cow barn known as Barton Coliseum. Barton, along with several other arenas, was built in the early 1950s as some type of work project. Oklahoma City, Albuquerque, Shreveport and other Mid-South cities all have practically the same designed buildings, usually located at their fairgrounds.
Tales from the Trails of a Rock ’n’ Roll Bus Driver Page 7