Stories From The Road

This page will serve as a place to read my stories from the road and other experiences throughout my career in the music business. The story of the Chuck Berry stage plot is the first entry of stories from the road. This first feature is one of my favorites and will be perfect for the lead off tale.

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The story of the Chuck Berry stage plot We had another show to do at the Paramount Theater in downtown Austin. I really liked doing shows there. Load-in and out were fairly easy and the venue really sounds good. Although, I was usually mixing monitors on stage so the room acoustics didn’t matter as much. This was a show I was looking forward to. Chuck Berry with Bo Diddly. This was another chance to work with a couple of Rock-n-Roll legends. They were going to turn the house for two shows that night with Chuck and Bo. At some point we learned that Bo Diddly was not going to make it to the performance. He had some domestic violence case pending in Florida and the judge wasn’t going to let him leave the state. Two separate back-up bands had been hired, one for each musician. Chuck Berry stepped up and said he would play Bo Diddly’s set with all of Bo’s songs and with the back- up band hired to play with Bo. There would be a set change with the other band to play with Chuck during his set. Show schedule as follows: Chuck would open the first show with his set, set change to the other back-up band, Chuck would perform Bo Diddly’s set with all of Bo’s material. No set change was required during intermission so that Chuck could open the second show with Bo’s set. Another set change and then Chuck would close out the second show. During the band setup and sound check I asked Mr. Berry if I could get a stage plot. He said, “Aww, you don’t need a stage plot” which was kind of half right because it was a fairly simple setup. I’m kind of big on stage plots no matter how easy the setup is just so that everyone is on the same page. “Just put the guitar over there and the piano over there. Naw, wait a minute, let’s put the piano over there maybe.” I said, “Ya see, Mr. Berry, that’s why I need a stage plot.” He gave me a look and grabbed my clipboard and paper and started to draw out a stage plot himself. I told him how much I appreciated that and we continued with the setup and sound check. After we were all done and breaking for dinner I took the stage plot back over to Mr. Berry and asked if he would autograph it for me. He gave me another “look” with a bit of a sly grin and said, “sure.” He signed it, “Cheers, Chuck Berry” with a big smiley face. (Second part of the story) It was a great night and you could tell Chuck Berry really enjoys what he does. The audience also didn’t seem to mind that Chuck covered for Bo Diddly. He did it very well. At the end of the fourth set of the night for Chuck’s performances he was just finishing his last encore and heading stage left in my direction at the monitor mix position. Waving one last time to the audience and removing his guitar as he exited, with a big smile he handed his guitar to me as any guitar slinger would hand it off to their tech after a show and headed off to his dressing room. I couldn’t believe what just happened. Chuck Berry just left his guitar with me. I strummed a few chords and played a couple of notes thinking, “Wow, this is so cool!” and then decided it was time to return it. I went downstairs to the dressing rooms, knocked on his door and said “Here is your guitar, Mr. Berry.” He said, “Thank you, very much” and closed the door. (Third part of the story) Years later I came across a story about Chuck Berry’s guitar that made my moment all the more special. According to Keith Richard’s book, Life. As Keith explained getting punched in the face by Chuck Berry: " We saw him play in New York somewhere, and afterward I was backstage in his dressing room, he went off to collect the money, I think. He was a tightwad—bless you, Chuck! His guitar was laid out in his case. I wanted to look, out of professional interest, and [I thought], 'Ah, come on, Keith, just a touch. Just let me give it a little E chord. As I’m just plucking the strings,  "[Chuck] walked in and goes, 'Nobody touches my guitar! BONG!' It was one of Chuck's biggest hits." Nobody touches Chuck’s guitar unless he hands it to you.

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Who is Tom Farrell and where is he? I first met Tom in 1984 when I was hired on to work with Mickey Gilley. Tom had been hired by Gilley probably no more than a year earlier while Gilley was doing a gig at Harrah’s in Lake Tahoe. Tom worked in the health spa at Harrah’s. He was a towel boy. As with everyone who has ever met Tom, Gilley was really taken by his personality and charm. Gilley offered him a job and soon Tom was selling Gilley merchandise on the road with the group. I am sure one of the things that Gilley really liked about Tom was his love and knowledge of sports. We watched a lot of games while traveling on the road. Football, baseball, basketball, golf. Any game you could place a bet on. Tom was always calling every play before the TV announcers could. Most of the time when the announcer’s call was different than Tom’s it was soon corrected by the instant replay in his favor. There are a lot of stories involving Tom. He was always getting himself in some predicament, but he always managed to come out smelling like a rose, most of the time. Gilley had a good friend near Sacramento who came out to a lot of our shows in Reno and Las Vegas. Mr. Brooks was a businessman, owned a golf course and was a high roller. Winning 60k in the casino playing craps was like winning pocket change. There was a benefit golf tournament every year at his golf course and one-year Gilley was the headlining entertainment. It was a weekend of golf and wining and dining. There was lots of partying after the tournament and show. We had another show in Long Beach the next day and it was going to be a long drive for the busses to get there on time. Gilley announced to everyone, “party as much as you want tonight but if you are not on the busses at 6:00am you will be left behind. No exceptions. We are out of here at 6.” Most of us decided not to sleep in our luxurious condos that night so that we didn’t have to get up early just to move to another place to go back to sleep. I always slept good in my bunk on the bus. 6:00am rolls around early and everyone is present and accounted for. Except Tom. Someone went to check his room. Tom was no where to be found. Gilley said, “Let’s go.” I was thinking, great. Tom was my main crew guy to help move the massive amount of equipment we carried with us and it was going to be tough without him. Everyone went back to sleep for the ride to Long Beach. About 6 to 7 hours. Most everyone was awake when we got to the fair grounds. As the busses were pulling into the backside of the racetrack, we could see someone sitting on the stage waving. It was Tom. Gilley wondered out loud, “How in the hell did he get here?” Of course, Tom would tell us and it could only happen to him. Everyone had enough partying the night before and decided to turn in to get up early. Tom had been hanging out with Mr. Brooks and his friends and was talked into staying later. Did I mention how everyone loved Tom and having him around? Gilley was not near as angry with Tom as he was when we left that morning, but he wanted to know what happened. “I was all ready to go back to my room, but Mr. Brooks wanted me to stay longer because they were all celebrating his daughter’s birthday. Well, I never made it back to my room. I passed out on the couch and I missed the busses. I told Mr. Brooks, “I’m going to be fired, for sure.” Mr. Brooks felt so bad about it he said he would take care of everything. We had a really nice breakfast and then he called up his pilot, put me on his Lear Jet and here I am.”

Practical jokes are a staple of touring on the road. They can happen anytime of the day, they can happen often, they can happen from payback. And they certainly happen when you would least expect It. Musicians are very creative people and that creativity doesn’t diminish when it comes to a good practical joke. One of the best happened during my time with the band Del Castillo. We were touring up in the Northeast, we had a day off. Might have been in Annapolis. Those days are always good for decompressing from the seemingly non-stop travel from city to city. Some of us went for a harbor cruise and some of the other guys went for a movie. I would have chosen something a little more lighthearted or comical but the guys decided to go see the current horror release, ‘The Exorcism of Emily Rose’. We all got together later for dinner and all they could talk about was how scary that movie was. Alex, the lead singer of the group, was especially unnerved by the film. He might have swore that he would never see anything like that again. We usually stayed at some fairly decent hotels. This one had alarm clocks that had a built-in CD player. How nice that you could wake up to your own favorite CD. Mark, one of two lead guitar players in the band, was Alex’s roommate and he had an idea. One that Alex wouldn’t soon forget. Before going to sleep that night, Mark recorded a CD that consisted of some very demonic and hellish voices screaming “David, wake up!” and other blood curdling demands and sound effects. David was actually Alex’s given name. Alejandro was his middle name and everyone called him Alex. The devil, of course, would call you by your given name. The CD got popped into the player and set for a 3:00am wakeup call. Not sure if Alex woke up to the first call of his name but he was soon frozen in his bed unable to move. We all wished we had been there to witness the call from hell for ‘David’s’ soul. Alex didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Tom Farrell was always the practical joker. But now it was his turn for payback. We had been on Gilley’s busses for quite a while and we were finally arriving at our destination. We were somewhere in Oregon. It might have been Salem. There was a county fair performance the next day and we were getting in early. That meant a night off. We would probably order in some pizza and just relax for the evening. Doug, the bass player, had an old friend who was going to drop by for a visit. It was always really cool when you could connect with people you didn’t have a chance to see very often. As we were coming into town there was an alert on the radio that a convict had escaped from the local State Penitentiary. “Be on the lookout and keep your doors locked. This person could possibly be dangerous.” We got to the motel and everyone checked into their rooms. Doug’s friend showed up and he just happened to be dressed in a denim work shirt and denim pants. Wow, kinda looked like a prisoner from a work detail. We all got an idea. We told this guy to go over to Tom’s room and knock on the door and try to get Tom to let him in. Tom had no idea who this guy would be or that he had arrived yet to see Doug. We were all able to watch everything that was about to happen without being seen. Doug’s friend went and knocked on the door. Tom answered and looking a little puzzled said, “Can I help you?” “Hey man, I need a favor, I need a place to hang out for just a little while. Do you think it would be all right if I came in for just a bit?” Tom was really looking puzzled and a little apprehensive said, “Nooo, I don’t think I could do that.” “Ah, come on man, I really need to come in there. I just need a place to stay for a little while.” He starts pushing forward a little bit. Tom starts to look really worried now as Doug’s friend starts to try and go into the room and Tom is saying, “You can’t come in here, man, you can’t come in here.” We all decided that we should probably not let the joke go very much further as Doug’s friend was completely inside the room at this point. We all piled in through the door laughing. I had never seen Tom as scared as he was at that moment. He said he had thought for sure the escaped convict had found him and it was all about to go down. Not all the practical jokes were scary or were getting back at someone. Sometimes they were just damn funny. Rocky Stone was Gilley’s lead guitar player. He was friends with Chet Atkins and James Burton. He had the respect of other musicians wherever we went. He seemed to know someone in every town we were in. Rocky had the best dry wit and one-liners of anyone you ever knew. He always kept Gilley in stiches. We were always fed well at Gilley shows. One evening we were served Prime Rib with all the fixings. Rocky was enjoying his big ol’ cut and sliced the huge strip of fat off the side. It was about 8 inches long and an inch thick. He wrapped it up in his napkin and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “Rocky, what the hell are you doing?” This was not something you would save for a midnight snack. He just gave a little shake of his head as to say, “Aaah, don’t worry about it.” He was up to something. After the show that night a lot of us were out on Gilley’s bus, hanging out, telling jokes, having some beers with some visitors. Rocky was sitting in the corner in one of the chairs entertaining Gilley and everyone else with more of his dry humor when all of a sudden he had to sneeze. It seemed like it was going to be a big one. “Ahh, ahhhh, ahhhhhhh choooo!!!” Rocky had reached into his pocket and pulled out that big ol’ piece of fat and held it under his nose. It looked like a huge blob of snot hanging down 8 inches from his face. I thought Gilley was going to fall out of his chair.