Name Dropping

Written by Doug – the northlondonhippy

All Hands On Deck

I only did two major events with MTV, post-internship, and both were very memorable, each for different reasons. This is the first, and the largest by far. 

In the summer of 1986, I was hired by MTV as a freelance production assistant/runner for the Amnesty International – Conspiracy of Hope Tour final concert, at Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey on the 15th of June. 

For context, this was a year after Live Aid, which was still fresh in people’s minds, and the public’s consciousness. I’d watched Live Aid on TV, it was part of why I wanted an internship with MTV. It was a huge event. 

People I worked with said that this event was a bigger production for MTV than Live Aid, because with Live Aid they also had a stage in London that carried some of the day. For this event, Giants Stadium was the only venue for the entire final concert.

The concert itself was an all day event, it went on for hours, and many huge names performed. Plus there were so many backstage guests. Some were interviewed on TV, others were just hanging out. If you were on the east coast of the USA that day, it was absolutely the place to be.

I think I got at least three days work out of it, two days before, plus the day of the concert itself. I don’t think I worked the day after, but its possible. It’s a long time ago, which means much of the minutiae is lost to time, but I do have some major memories to share. 

I was already aware of the six date concert tour, and the plans for broadcasting the final concert before I got the call from Harvey G. When he asked me if I was available, he stressed how big this event would be. He said, “it was all hands on deck” when he hired me.

All hands on deck? That means I was a “hand” at MTV, and I was part of the “all”. It made me very happy. I thought things might finally be taking off.

Concert Prep

The first two days were fairly dull. As a runner, I didn’t actually have that much to do, and I remember that being especially true on the set-up days. There was some heavy lifting, as well as getting the lay of the land, but mainly there was a lot of waiting around. 

Giants Stadium is huge, and as a runner, I needed to know my way around it. Mainly, I kept out of the way of the people doing the really hard work, the technicians rigging everything up, for what would be one of the largest outside broadcasts of the year. 

I was reunited with Ted Demme, who interned at MTV around the same time I did, only he was in the studio, I was in the offices. We were both happy to see a familiar face. Everyone else we both knew seemed really busy, and we were just an afterthought to the proceedings. 

Ted and I were both just spare, extra hands on those first two days, so no one noticed when we snuck out to my car in the parking lot for a sneaky joint, or seven. We both got high together a lot over those three days, though much less so on the day of the concert, as you’ll see. 

This piece isn’t just about the Amnesty Concert, but it’s about celebrity too. On the day of the concert, I met, encountered, interacted, and saw more celebrities in that one day, than I can probably remember, but I’m going to try.

There’s something about celebrities, whether you revere or revile them, that fascinates us all. Whenever I’ve mentioned that I’ve met someone famous, I’ve often been asked “what are they really like?”. That’s almost always impossible to answer. 

Very rarely do you truly see them as anything other than “on”. They have to be “on” all the time, and they can’t let their guard down around strangers. I’ve never envied that. 

Some can be demanding divas, but many others are down to earth, and just normal people, who simply have a talent. Some are in between, and others it may depend on the day you catch them. All people are different, in different circumstances.

And I’ll be honest, some of the people I will mention in this piece, I am in awe of their boundless talents. And in at least one encounter, I was nearly moved to tears. And there was another that was more than a little weird. You’ll see. 

Concert Day

I drove to Giants Stadium from Hoboken on the set-up days, but when I arrived on the day of the broadcast, security was a lot tighter. I had to show my pass just to get into the parking lot. That was new.

Harvey G had given me a backstage pass on the first prep day, and a special second, “all access” endorsed badge, which meant I could get to the real backstage area, around the actual performance stage. I could get everywhere. A runner has got to be able to run!

I wore the credentials around my neck on a lanyard. I looked official, and this was heightened by my faux production vest. Basically, it was a sleeveless jacket, with many, many pockets, of various sizes. They’re super useful when you’re going to be on your feet, and on the move all day. Proper production vests cost a fortune, I bought mine at K-Mart, in the fishing section, and it was cheap. 

It was a hot, sunny day, so to complete the look, I was wearing a pair of cargo shorts, a tee-shirt, and some sort of trainers, or sneakers made of canvas, but no socks. I grew up on the Jersey Shore, you never wore socks in the summer. Ideally in the summer, you were barefoot anyway, most of the time down the shore. 

Before everything kicked off, Harvey G gave me a walkie-talkie. He said he would call me if he needed anything, and in general to just help out where ever I could. 

My role was extremely ill-defined, but I had two things in my possession that gave me the air of being a central part of things. That would be the credentials around my neck, and especially the walkie-talkie. No one knew the reality, that I had no one on the other end that I could call for anything. All I could do was listen, and respond. One of the pockets in the vest I was wearing was big enough for the radio, so I was able to stash it when required. 

The real man in charge of the live show, was the legendary promoter, and hippy legend, Bill Graham. And saying he was “legendary” is still an understatement. I saw him a lot that day, he didn’t stop moving, and he was always busy, and in the middle of something. If anyone kept things running backstage that day, it was Bill. He impressed me, but then he used to impress a lot of people. What drive! He was killed in a chopper crash around 5 years later, RIP. 

For me, the day was fairly chilled. Someone would call for me on the radio, I’d reply, and be given a little task. Like could I go fetch some celebrity from the “star bar”, and take to them to one of the broadcast points. I did that a lot. 

If memory serves, besides the main performance stage, there were several other live positions set up for commentary, and interviews.  There was a main broadcast point, and several satellites. 

For example, there was a platform erected in the middle of the football field, that was being used as a live point. It was probably around the 50 yard line, I don’t remember exactly, but you had to fight your way through the audience to reach it, and then climb a ladder that was easily 500 foot high. I’m exaggerating, it was probably closer to 20, but it didn’t matter to me. I hate heights, and was happy not to be sent up there.  

One of the areas I spent a lot of time in was what we were calling the “star bar”, which included an adjacent live point for celebrity interviews. It was mainly an off-screen hospitality area for VIPs. 

Lots of the celebs I met that day, I shuffled from the star bar to one of these other live points. If you have a walkie-talkie, and a pass around your neck, famous people will follow you almost anywhere.  

There was also a stairwell, that ran from behind the star bar that connected it to the main backstage area. Anyone appearing on the main stage, other than the headliners, would make that journey. And if they did, I probably escorted them. 

Also backstage, was the arrivals area for performers, and VIPs. I saw quite a few big names there, and directed them around the stadium. 

Harvey G also showed me a small, mostly unused trailer, that was an air-conditioned production office, belonging to his department, in the main backstage area. There were screens inside it, showing the broadcast live feed, plenty of chairs, and a fridge stocked with soft drinks. He told me if any guests needed to cool off, to feel free to use it. 

Name Dropping

I’ll get my minor embarrassing story out of the way early. At one point I was instructed to escort Jorma Koukenen from the star bar to one of the live points. 

I called him Jorma a couple of times, as that’s who I was told he was, and I caught some bemusement from him, but I couldn’t work out why. That is until later on, when someone else told me I was misinformed, and it was actually Jack Casady. Both men were members of the original Jefferson Airplane, and worked together in Hot Tuna as well, That made them rock and roll royalty, so confusing  them both was inexcusable. Mr. Casady never corrected me, and I never got the chance to apologise to him for my error. In the unlikely event that he ever stumbles upon this piece, I hope he knows that he has my sincerest apology. MTV shouldn’t be messing stuff like this up! I really was embarrassed, and I still am today. 

Now, I’m going to drop to me anyway, the biggest, or perhaps I should say “the greatest” name of that day, and I got to shake his giant hand. I’m talking about Muhammed Ali. It’s one of the few times in my life I felt legitimately starstruck. 

I was overwhelmed, there was no bigger media figure from my childhood, and no bigger personality either. He was the champ, he was the greatest! So many of my friends had posters of him on their walls when we were kids. 

Mr. Ali had only been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease a couple of years before I met him, but I could already see the early signs of it that day.

I was beaming when I shook his hand, and said “it’s amazing to meet you, champ”. Yes, I called him champ. And if I could travel back in time to that moment, I’d say it again.

I’ll mention two other sets of arrivals. The first pair to turn up together was Little Steven from the E-Street Band, and the massively famous actor, Robert DeNiro. I have no idea why they were together. Are all celebrities friends?

Steve Van Zandt is a local New Jersey music legend. As well as being a member of the E-Street Band, he co-founded Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, and he was the lead singer in the Disciples of Soul. Oh, and he was Silvio Dante in The Sopranos too. I’d seen the Disciples of Soul perform once, at Big Man’s West in Red Bank, and I’d seen Steve perform with Bruce Springsteen in concert many times. It was cool to see him again.

What can you say about DeNiro that hasn’t already been said? One of the greatest film actors of several generations. Taxi Driver, and The Godfather Part Two would have been enough to cement his reputation as an amazing talent, but he just kept going. 

Around the time of the concert, DeNiro was filming “Angel Heart”. In it, he was playing a character named Louis Cyphre, which is a pretty straightforward play on words. I mention it because at the time, Mr. DeNiro had let his hair grow down to the middle of his back for the role. It was nearly as long as my own, and a memorable detail for me.

I didn’t really speak to either one of them at length, but I helped direct them to wherever they were needed. There was a real buzz around DeNiro. As celebrities go, he always seemed inaccessible, especially in the 70s and 80s, so seeing him in person was notable. 

The other thing that seeing Little Steven did, was further fuel a rumour, or hope, depending upon your perspective. The spectre of Bruce Springsteen lingered over the entire day. 

Would the Boss show up at a massive concert in his own backyard? Everyone hoped he would. People openly speculated about it all day, me included. I’d spent the summer of 1982 seeing him sit-in with all sorts of bands in bars on the Jersey Shore, so it wouldn’t have been unheard of for him to turn up unannounced. 

The other pair I saw turn up at the arrivals area were an actual couple at the time. The singer/songwriter Jackson Browne, and his then girlfriend, Daryl Hannah. 

I always liked Jackson Browne, and I wore out my vinyl copy of Running on Empty, but I can’t say I remember much about seeing him that day. All eyes, including mine, were on his girlfriend.

Daryl Hannah was breathtakingly beautiful. She radiated it, effortlessly. She was just wearing jeans, and a white tee-shirt, but she was still spectacular. On a day where there were beautiful women everywhere you looked, Ms. Hannah was at another level. You’ve probably noticed this yourself, as everyone did back in the 80s, but she looked even better in person than she did on screen. And she looked fabulous on screen. You get the idea. 

My weirdest memory of that moment was noticing that Daryl Hannah was barefoot. No feet kink here, quite the opposite, health, and safety. I remember thinking I wouldn’t want to be walking around barefoot backstage. It was dangerous, and a bit sticky. Eewww. 

At one point, I ran into my friend, Ted. We decided to sneak out to the parking lot for a crafty joint in my car. It was really easy to do on the set-up days, but now, on the day of the concert, it was a whole new world.

The parking lot was filled with fans that didn’t have tickets to get into the concert. Fan is short for “fanatic”, and some of the people I encountered as Ted and I made our way through the crowd were unhinged. They spotted our backstage passes, and swarmed us. 

I remember one woman grabbed my arm, and begged and pleaded with me to get her backstage, because she had a really important message for Peter Gabriel. Really important! I could tell by the crazy look in her eyes that she believed it too. 

Ted and I managed to get away from the crowd, and we tucked our passes into our shirts, as we made the rest of the way to my car. We smoked a joint, and returned to the gate, only revealing our credentials when we were in sight of the security guards who let us back in.

“That’s it for me”, Ted said, when I asked if he wanted to go out again later. The crowd was too much for him. I didn’t blame him, but I wasn’t going to let the parking lot zombies prevent me from popping out again. 

I don’t think I saw Ted again after that. He had a good life, but died way too young. RIP old friend. 

At one point, I was casually hanging out in the star bar with Carlos Santana, and Reuben Blades, along with some segment producers that I knew from MTV. It’s still surreal when I think about it. Carlos was as cool as he was humble, and normal. And he is as cool as they fucking come! I really liked him. 

And if you want surreal, this was by far, and without question the most surreal encounter I had that day. I was a big fan of this actor, and to be honest, I still am. His work in the 70s, 80s and even the 90s is amazing. I’m talking about Elliot Gould.

I grew up on Elliot Gould’s films, from the original big screen adaptation of M*A*S*H, to the conspiracy thriller, Capricorn One, he’s had an amazing career. He even played Marlowe in The Long Goodbye. Plus he was married to Barbara Streisand at one point, talk about another big star. I bet many of you will remember him for playing Ross and Monica Geller’s father on the classic 90s sitcom, “Friends”. 

My interaction with Mr. Gould was strange. Even now, I struggle to make sense out of it. It was in the star bar, and he approached me, I expect because of the ID badges, and walkie-talkie. He towered over me, I remember him being really tall. I’m the opposite of tall. He grabbed me by both shoulders. 

“Hey, you’re a big guy. Did you play football in high school? I bet you played football in high school! Did you play football in high school? You’ve got really broad shoulders!”

He was really smiley, and friendly. I sensed no anger or animosity in his voice. If anything, he was enthusiastic, and effervescent.

He held on to my shoulders way too long, as he looked me up, and down. I’m not a big guy, I’m short, but I do have broad shoulders, and a big rib cage, matched with stubby, thick legs. I was thinner way back then, but still a little stocky. I was certainly no football player. 

The conversation made me feel weird. Objectified. That was a new one on me. Maybe he was taking the piss out of me, maybe he was trying to flirt with me? Maybe he was drunk, or high? Maybe he was just weird. I still have no idea. It was as surreal as it sounds. 

I was finally able to get away from him, because my radio squawked. I didn’t know if they were calling for me, and at that point I didn’t care. I made my excuses, and left the star bar for the backstage area.

Randomly, I ran into Pat Benatar, and her husband, and lead guitarist, Neil Giraldo wandering around backstage. They weren’t performing, or appearing, they were just hanging out. I introduced myself, and asked them if they wanted to hang out in an air-conditioned trailer. They said yes.

I showed them into the production office trailer, and got them each a soft drink. I told them I had seen them perform at the Brendan Byrne Arena, right next door, a few years before, I was a fan, but I was relaxed about it. They were really down to earth, and appreciated the hospitality, and the praise. I got called to do a little job, and I had to return to the star bar, but I told them I’d come back when I could. 

This is where I got choked up. When I got up to the star bar, I discovered I was escorting Yoko Ono, and Sean Ono Lennon down to the main performance stage. 

This was June 1986, John Lennon was only murdered 5 and a half years before this. His death had a big impact on me, as it did to most music fans I guess. It was still pretty raw, and it was all I could think about as I introduced myself to them. I fought to hold in my emotions. 

Sean was just a kid, he would have been around 11 years old. Yoko was very softly spoken, and quite shy. I brought them down to the backstage area, handed them off to the stage manager, and said my goodbyes. I really was moved by this brief encounter. 

I turned around, and bumped right into Max Weinberg, the drummer from the E-Street Band. Immediately, I wondered if Bruce was about to materialise as well. 

I said hi to Max, and asked if he was lost. He had just performed with John Eddie, was looking for someplace to relax, and watch the rest of the show. I knew just the place.

I brought Max to the air-conditioned trailer, and introduced him to Pat Benatar, and Neil Giraldo. As you do. I told Max I was a fan, and that I’d seem him perform with Bruce countless times. He probably heard this sort of thing all the time, and he was used to it. 

I asked Max if he knew if Bruce was going to turn up. He said he had no idea, he didn’t even know if Bruce was in the area. But if he did, Max said he was up for doing another set with him. Yes!

At that point, one of my colleagues from the MTV offices popped into the trailer. It was Steve, the guy who discovered me smoking a joint on my first day as an intern. He was more senior than me, and had an actual assigned role as a coordinator at one of the live points. He was on a break, came into the trailer to grab a cold drink, and he found me there running my own mini-star bar. 

We stepped outside the trailer, and he asked me if I was just hanging around with celebrities all day. I said “yep”. He then asked me if I had any weed with me. Again I said “yep”.

We made our way to the gate out to the parking lot. I told him to tuck his backstage pass into his shirt. He asked why? I just said trust me. 

We managed to make it to my car mostly unmolested. It was a 1984 Toyota Supra, light blue. I had been thinking of selling it, since I rarely used it living in and around the big city. Steve really liked the car, and offered to buy it. And a few weeks later, he really did. 

When I got back inside the stadium, Harvey G called me on the walkie-talkie. He had an important task for me, and told me where to find him backstage. 

When I found Harvey, he handed me a satchel, with a shoulder strap. Inside it was a cold 6-pack of beer. I had to deliver the beer to one of the original  VJs, Mark Goodman. Mark was broadcasting from “the Hut”.

Remember “the Hut”? It’s that broadcasting platform in the middle of the football field, only accessible by a ladder that was like a million feet high, I was a million feet high too, thanks to my little sojourn in the parking lot with Steve. And I hate heights, and ladders. And ladders, and heights. Oh my!

The playing field was packed with punters. It was wall-to-wall, standing-room-only the entire way, as I threaded myself through the crowd to the base of the Hut. 

Once there, I had to clear security, which only took a moment. The all access pass was like a magic wand, and it allowed me to go everywhere. Even places I didn’t wish to venture, like the Hut. 

I began my ascent, slowly, one foot at a time, the cold beer chilling my back through the canvas of the satchel slung over my shoulder. I wondered if the TV cameras caught my historic climb?

Eventually I made my way to the top. It was bigger than I expected, with a cameraman, a producer, and Mark Goodman, as well as space for a guest, which at that point was vacant. 

I gave the satchel to Mark, and he said “thanks, man”. And that was the extent of our interaction, but he now had his cold beer. Mission accomplished!

I made my way back down the ladder of infinity, and snaked my way to the backstage area, and the trailer. Pat, Neil, and Max were still there. I got myself a cold drink, and sat down. I hung out with them for ages, just shooting the breeze, and watching the concert on the monitors. It was chill, Pat was especially nice to me, and really chatty. 

I had to go back to the star bar a few times, and at one point I bumped right into Lou Reed, almost literally on that back stairwell. I had caught most of his set earlier in the day, and told him it was great. He smiled, and carried on his way. 

Towards the end of the long day, I was just sort of hanging around backstage. I saw The Police as they were heading for their performance on the main stage. I made eye contact with Andy Summers, the guitarist. I said to him, “have a great set”, and he grinned.

I saw The Police in 1982, at the Meadowlands Arena next door, and it was one of the best concerts I’d ever seen. Sting is an amazing frontman, and incredibly compelling performer. Watching from the side of the backstage area was even better. This was a special performance, as technically the band had already split at this point, and only reformed to help Amnesty, and the cause. So I was doubly lucky that I managed to see their entire set. 

That was also true for U2, though I didn’t really get to interact with the band at all. I saw them take the stage, and watched their entire set from the sidelines as well. I remember them being shorter than I expected, like they were only my height. 

U2 too were amazing. I saw them again in London in the early 90s, at the old Wembley Stadium. I think it was the Zoo TV Tour. And before that, in 1990, I stayed in the same hotel as Bono in London for a few weeks. I used to see him in the hotel bar, holding court, every night. The Edge was there too, but I never ran into him. At the time, they were both working on a musical version of “A Clockwork Orange” that didn’t run for very long. 

There are loads of other people I saw that day, from Paul Schaffer, to Darlene Love, the Hooters, and John Waite. 

And there were a lot of people there that day that I didn’t see, like Christopher Reeve, and Michael J. Fox. I missed meeting Superman, and Marty McFly!

And I somehow missed Peter Gabriel completely. That crazed car park fanatic would have been very disappointed with me. 

All in all, it was an amazing day. I had a blast, and a half! By the time the concert ended, and I was good-nighted by Harvey G, it was well after midnight. And in the end, there was no sign of Bruce Springsteen. Oh well. 

I made the relatively short drive back to my place in Hoboken quickly, and I was completely exhausted. I was drained, but it was worth it. The memories of that day are still with me decades later. 

That’s the thing about celebrities. They meet normal people all the time. But for us normal people, meeting them is special, and memorable, even decades later. 

In Part Three – Crappy New Year!, the story takes an unexpected turn. 

(All words © Copyright 2023 – Doug – the northlondonhippy. All rights reserved)