This is one of those out-of-sequence stories that occur to me out of the blue. As a matter of fact, I was watching America's Funniest Home Videos the other night when they had a series of "Twenty Five Spurts In Fifteen Seconds," or something similar, showing clips of people being squirted in the face or elsewhere. I was suddenly reminded of the time in (I believe) 1992 when Image International had a gig at The Ritz Carlton Hotel on Amelia Island up near the Georgia line. It was a six-day gig from Friday to Wednesday. I was invited to the meeting, because Eddie and I were the shop at the time, and he was being sent out on some other job. This gig began with an outdoor symphony concert, with a 24' X 32' stage to build, and then an arcade to assemble brick walls for. (Ray sold forty brick panels. Al gave him twenty.) Then we had three days off, unpaid, before the big outdoor Games Night and strike on Wednesday night. The rules were read to us about our time at the Ritz - no pool use, no lounging in common areas, dress and act professional at all times while on hotel property - so I said, "If I'm not being paid, I'm going home!" Of course, this raised a ruckus. Kevin Rose said, "Don't you want a little vacation?" I told him I didn't call it a vacation if I'm stuck in a room with two other guys and can't enjoy myself in any way. Well, they weren't driving me home or flying me home, and I wasn't to ride my motorcycle there (heaven forbid!) So I asked for a round trip bus ticket from Jacksonville. That they went for, because nobody else in the crew could do the stage on Friday, or the Velcro wall on Wednesday.
For this party I built one of my most elaborate games, a slanting eight foot tall by four foot wide polygon, 6 inches thick, with holes of various sizes and placements for different point values. The whiffle softballs were tossed at the holes for points, and the internal structure channeled each ball from the hole to the slot at the bottom numbered with the corresponding points. It was very popular.
So on Friday, bright and early, we all piled into various cars and trucks and lit out for Amelia Island. After depositing our luggage in our rooms, booked in the name of crew boss David Manley, we set out for the truck to unload what we needed for the first day, the staging. It was brought out to the edge of the practice putting green, where I was instructed to set it up. I started out using big chunks of lumber to shim up the low places and make it level. But the client came along and told me he wanted the stage to kind of roll with the landscape. So I pulled out most of the shims and screwed together the frames as best I could with the roll of the landscape. The plywood decking was a little challenging to make pretty. I had barely begun plywood when the tent company came and asked for a hole to be cut in the center sheet of plywood for the center tent pole. This I did, then finished the plywood while the tent went up around me.
Saturday morning I awoke to find myself alone. I looked out the sliding glass doors to the green, where David Manley and his crew were almost finished painting the entire stage black. I turned away, but suddenly there was screaming from the green area. I turned back to see the guys scurrying away because the sprinkler system had come on. There were three or four Rainbird sprinklers shooting streams of water at the freshly painted stage. By the time they got the hotel to shut the sprinklers off, the stage was badly in need of another coat of paint.
We then began to load in and set up the brick panels for the arcade. This was in another tent, with a grass floor. We had it pretty much together when the games company arrived with the pinball machines, basketball game, air hockey etc. We were stringing extension cords all over the tent, and had just about finished when the Florida afternoon thunderstorm hit. Within minutes we were standing in two inches of water in the middle of dozens of electrical cords strewn around the floor. Time to go.
I got a ride to the Jacksonville bus station and was home before midnight. The return trip began late Monday night. I would arrive in Jax early early Tuesday morning. I had my suitcase loaded with one change of clothes and my tools. It was pretty heavy. I knew before I got there that what I wanted to do was to walk from downtown Jacksonville to the Island, twenty some miles. I damn near made it, too. At the bridge to the island was a little convenience store/bait shop. I used their phone to call Ray Ramsey. He came and got me. As I exited Ray's car, a hotel employee came and grabbed my suitcase. "I'll get that, Mr. Manley!" I told him a) I was going outside to the green with that suitcase and b) I had no tip money. "It's my pleasure, Mr. Manley!" I imagined that, after years of being taken for granted by the usual rich people, it was something of a treat for these employees to go the extra mile for us working stiffs, tip or no (and the client was paying them a big gratuity for all of the Mr. Manleys on the crew.)
So I did some prep work, stapling "loop" fabric on the plywood for the Velcro wall Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning began assembling three eight foot by twelve foot frames into a slanted twelve foot tall by twenty four wide climbing wall, with enough 2X4s to hold it together and stand it up. This took the major part of the day. Then I stood up my new ball toss game and helped with the rest of the party decor until nightfall, when a guy took my suitcase to my room and said "My pleasure, Mr. Manley!" I sat in the comfy chair and watched the party out the glass doors, dozing in and out until the real Mr. Manley called us out for strike. We had everything disassembled and in the truck before you could say "My pleasure, Mr. Manley!"
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
When The Pupil Is Ready...
In 1995, working at Presentations South, Inc., the job seemed to be: build a box, laminate it - build another box, laminate it etc. In the footsteps of Og, I proved myself to be really not very good at laminating - to the point where things I'd done went on display in the break room for the amusement of the rest of the guys. Jim Matthews kept telling me to ask the other guys for help and advice, which I did, but it didn't seem to help.
At Central Florida Display I did some laminating, but the sucky quality of my work kind of blended in with the general suckiness of Central Florida Display. At F/X there was a laminating department that got upset if the rest of us took work away from them. This suited me fine. For the next nine years, the fact that I couldn't laminate seemed to matter not at all.
At Mystic, whenever they didn't know what to do with someone, they stuck him in the laminating department. Early in my Mystical career I was thrown kicking and screaming into laminating. Pete was on vacation, so Paul was in charge of the department. I thought about putting on a brave face and just diving in. That sounded like a really bad idea. So I went up to Paul and said, "I'm here to help you with the laminating. The problem is, I've never been any good at it. Would you be willing to teach me?" And he did. He took me under his wing and showed me, step by step, from the most basic preparations through the gluing, the sticking, the rubbing down and the filing. By the end of the first week, my skills had progressed to the point where I could actually fly solo and do an acceptable job at a fairly complex project. This was a very good thing, because the laminating department only did about half of the laminating in the building. The cabinet guys pretty much all did their own, because they all did it so much better than Pete, just ask them. When the scenery division had laminating to do, there was usually a lot of it, and Pete's guys couldn't handle it all and get it done on time. I actually became one of the better laminators in the scenery section. All thanks to Paul, my sensei.
At Central Florida Display I did some laminating, but the sucky quality of my work kind of blended in with the general suckiness of Central Florida Display. At F/X there was a laminating department that got upset if the rest of us took work away from them. This suited me fine. For the next nine years, the fact that I couldn't laminate seemed to matter not at all.
At Mystic, whenever they didn't know what to do with someone, they stuck him in the laminating department. Early in my Mystical career I was thrown kicking and screaming into laminating. Pete was on vacation, so Paul was in charge of the department. I thought about putting on a brave face and just diving in. That sounded like a really bad idea. So I went up to Paul and said, "I'm here to help you with the laminating. The problem is, I've never been any good at it. Would you be willing to teach me?" And he did. He took me under his wing and showed me, step by step, from the most basic preparations through the gluing, the sticking, the rubbing down and the filing. By the end of the first week, my skills had progressed to the point where I could actually fly solo and do an acceptable job at a fairly complex project. This was a very good thing, because the laminating department only did about half of the laminating in the building. The cabinet guys pretty much all did their own, because they all did it so much better than Pete, just ask them. When the scenery division had laminating to do, there was usually a lot of it, and Pete's guys couldn't handle it all and get it done on time. I actually became one of the better laminators in the scenery section. All thanks to Paul, my sensei.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Tooling Up
My first day at Mystic Scenic Studios was surprising in many ways. For one thing, I found out that there were over a hundred employees with whom I'd be working - a lot of names to learn. For another, I was given, along with my employee handbook, a two page list of tools I was expected to own and use on the job. Everywhere I worked in Florida, they provided things like routers, drills, circular saws, jigsaws, belt sanders etc. They didn't want employees bringing in their own power tools and wearing them out on the job.
For the one thing, I was determined to learn everybody's name as quickly as possible. I've always been sketchy about remembering names, but somehow, a little-used part of my brain fired up. I learned all but a few within a couple weeks. I learned most people's names before they learned mine.
For the other, I bought tools with big overtime checks - which came along frequently in those early days. Belt sander first, then 1/2" chuck corded drill, jig saw, big router, laminate trimmer, 1/2" chuck cordless drill, tilt base trimmer, impact driver, orbital sander etc. I was still buying tools during the last weeks in Massachusetts in 2009.
The two owners of the company (until they finally split up in 2007) were Jim and John. One thing that was interesting about learning all those names was realizing that out of a hundred employees, six were Jims and seven were Johns. Those numbers fluctuated over four years, of course. John would hire a John or two, so Jim would have to bring in some Jims to catch up. In the spring of '07, John left and the Jims reigned supreme.
For the one thing, I was determined to learn everybody's name as quickly as possible. I've always been sketchy about remembering names, but somehow, a little-used part of my brain fired up. I learned all but a few within a couple weeks. I learned most people's names before they learned mine.
For the other, I bought tools with big overtime checks - which came along frequently in those early days. Belt sander first, then 1/2" chuck corded drill, jig saw, big router, laminate trimmer, 1/2" chuck cordless drill, tilt base trimmer, impact driver, orbital sander etc. I was still buying tools during the last weeks in Massachusetts in 2009.
The two owners of the company (until they finally split up in 2007) were Jim and John. One thing that was interesting about learning all those names was realizing that out of a hundred employees, six were Jims and seven were Johns. Those numbers fluctuated over four years, of course. John would hire a John or two, so Jim would have to bring in some Jims to catch up. In the spring of '07, John left and the Jims reigned supreme.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Frantic Searching
As mentioned in my previous posting, my last day at F/X was April 30th. From then until the end of June life was all about packing and moving and unpacking and setting up for a life in Massachusetts.
I went to Dedham to put in an application at Mystic Scenic Studios, a company I'd heard about because they opened a satellite shop in Central Florida for a short run a few years back. I knew they did good stuff, and I'd heard they paid well. But July is not the best time to go job hunting in show business. This was not a productive trip.
I took the MBCR, the Commuter Rail part of the MBTA, and far superior to the rest of it - just ask them - to Dedham, walked many miles in the blistering heat (this was the worst heat wave in Massachusetts memory) and found the address listed on their website. It was an abandoned
building, up for lease, with a sign on the door directing me to 293 Lenox Street in Norwood. I recognized the address of Mystic Millwork, a division of Mystic Scenic Studios. Did this mean that the scenery shop was out of business? And where in Norwood was Lenox Street? I made a mental list of three things I needed asap: a phone, a map and a restroom.
There was an office building very near the train platform. I was walking by the back door, glanced inside and saw a rest room right next to a stack of phone books for Dedham, Westwood and Norwood. Two of my three problems were solved. The phone book had a map section in the front. I found Lenox Street - it ran right along the Commuter Rail tracks. A nearby hotel had pay phones, so I called the number for the Studios, still listed in Dedham. A person answered, and she assured me that the studios were still very much alive. I asked if they were accepting applications. They were. Back to the Commuter Rail platform I went.
Of course, Norwood has two stops. Norwood Depot is on the north end and Norwood Central is a couple miles south. Where was 293 Lenox Street? No telling. Until, that is, I got off the train at Norwood Depot. That fact should tell you that I walked Lenox Street, which dead-ended into buildings and required a lot of extra walking to get there from here, past Norwood Central Station about a quarter mile. I arrived sweaty and exhausted, and the offices were being remodeled so the air conditioning didn't work. The application I turned in was not my best work, so it didn't surprise me that I heard nothing from them. The fact that much of the crew was busy remodeling told me that the dead slows of summer were in full force.
My next try was Local 11, the IATSE Stagehands Union in Boston. This was on a pouring-down-rain kind of day. Using a combination of my growing knowledge of the MBTA, my excellent Rand McNally map and my never-say-die attitude, I braved unmarked streets, unnumbered buildings and a sign on the outside wall written in Chinese characters, and found the office despite their best efforts to throw me off the scent. Once there, they treated me very well, even though Local 11 has never transferred a membership from another local and they weren't about to start with me. They took my information and put me on the overflow list - if a job comes along that requires more people than their membership, they'll call from the overflow list. I was at the bottom of a long list. Then, in say twenty or thirty years, they might make me a member. The business manager counseled me: "You know, if what you want to do is build scenery, you ought to go to work for Mystic Scenic Studios down in Dedham. They're not Union, but they treat their people well. Some of our guys free-lance down there when things are slow." They sent me to a drug testing facility in Government Center, Boston, which is required when you work at the Fleet Center, now known as the TD Banknorth Garden.
Then I tried Local 481 Studio Mechanics in Woburn. They gladly took my information, my application fee, my First Month's Dues and whatever other fees I had to pay up front. They told me I had to cajole two members in good standing into sponsoring me for membership, and then I might be voted in at the September meeting. The Business Agent counseled me: "You know, if what you want to do is build scenery, you ought to go to work for Mystic Scenic Studios down in Dedham. Some of our guys work down there when things are slow."
I went to the August meeting of 481 and talked to a couple of the guys, showed them my portfolio and gave them copies of my resume. They were impressed. They told me I ought to go to work for Mystic Scenic Studios in Dedham - they did when things were slow (which they often were.) When I got home, I emailed my resume to Andrew Shiels, the hiring guy at Mystic. I also sent one to Party By Design, als recommended by the 481 guys.
And I put in an application at The Home Depot in Watertown.
Local 11 called me to do a load out of a Kenny Chesney show at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro. I worked from 10:00pm to about 4:00am and netted about a hundred fifty bucks. That was the last union gig I ever did until last summer in Albuquerque.
The Home Depot called me for an interview. I went in and talked to the manager. He sent me to a drug testing place in Brookline and set me up for an orientation class the following Tuesday, provided the drug test results were in. Well, the test results were not in for any of us scheduled for that class. I went to Watertown and was sent back home. The training was rescheduled for Saturday. I was pretty bummed out.
Then Wednesday, Party By Design called me to come interview, which I did. They were happy with me and thought they could hire me, they'd let me know in a couple of days.
Then Thursday Mystic called me in for an interview. They were happy with me and thought they could hire me, and I should call back on Friday afternoon. Suddenly, on Friday, August 19th, I was faced with telling two of my definite prospects that I was not available.
On Monday, August 22nd, I hauled my tools to Norwood for my first day at Mystic Scenic Studios, a happy union that lasted almost four years.
I went to Dedham to put in an application at Mystic Scenic Studios, a company I'd heard about because they opened a satellite shop in Central Florida for a short run a few years back. I knew they did good stuff, and I'd heard they paid well. But July is not the best time to go job hunting in show business. This was not a productive trip.
I took the MBCR, the Commuter Rail part of the MBTA, and far superior to the rest of it - just ask them - to Dedham, walked many miles in the blistering heat (this was the worst heat wave in Massachusetts memory) and found the address listed on their website. It was an abandoned
building, up for lease, with a sign on the door directing me to 293 Lenox Street in Norwood. I recognized the address of Mystic Millwork, a division of Mystic Scenic Studios. Did this mean that the scenery shop was out of business? And where in Norwood was Lenox Street? I made a mental list of three things I needed asap: a phone, a map and a restroom.
There was an office building very near the train platform. I was walking by the back door, glanced inside and saw a rest room right next to a stack of phone books for Dedham, Westwood and Norwood. Two of my three problems were solved. The phone book had a map section in the front. I found Lenox Street - it ran right along the Commuter Rail tracks. A nearby hotel had pay phones, so I called the number for the Studios, still listed in Dedham. A person answered, and she assured me that the studios were still very much alive. I asked if they were accepting applications. They were. Back to the Commuter Rail platform I went.
Of course, Norwood has two stops. Norwood Depot is on the north end and Norwood Central is a couple miles south. Where was 293 Lenox Street? No telling. Until, that is, I got off the train at Norwood Depot. That fact should tell you that I walked Lenox Street, which dead-ended into buildings and required a lot of extra walking to get there from here, past Norwood Central Station about a quarter mile. I arrived sweaty and exhausted, and the offices were being remodeled so the air conditioning didn't work. The application I turned in was not my best work, so it didn't surprise me that I heard nothing from them. The fact that much of the crew was busy remodeling told me that the dead slows of summer were in full force.
My next try was Local 11, the IATSE Stagehands Union in Boston. This was on a pouring-down-rain kind of day. Using a combination of my growing knowledge of the MBTA, my excellent Rand McNally map and my never-say-die attitude, I braved unmarked streets, unnumbered buildings and a sign on the outside wall written in Chinese characters, and found the office despite their best efforts to throw me off the scent. Once there, they treated me very well, even though Local 11 has never transferred a membership from another local and they weren't about to start with me. They took my information and put me on the overflow list - if a job comes along that requires more people than their membership, they'll call from the overflow list. I was at the bottom of a long list. Then, in say twenty or thirty years, they might make me a member. The business manager counseled me: "You know, if what you want to do is build scenery, you ought to go to work for Mystic Scenic Studios down in Dedham. They're not Union, but they treat their people well. Some of our guys free-lance down there when things are slow." They sent me to a drug testing facility in Government Center, Boston, which is required when you work at the Fleet Center, now known as the TD Banknorth Garden.
Then I tried Local 481 Studio Mechanics in Woburn. They gladly took my information, my application fee, my First Month's Dues and whatever other fees I had to pay up front. They told me I had to cajole two members in good standing into sponsoring me for membership, and then I might be voted in at the September meeting. The Business Agent counseled me: "You know, if what you want to do is build scenery, you ought to go to work for Mystic Scenic Studios down in Dedham. Some of our guys work down there when things are slow."
I went to the August meeting of 481 and talked to a couple of the guys, showed them my portfolio and gave them copies of my resume. They were impressed. They told me I ought to go to work for Mystic Scenic Studios in Dedham - they did when things were slow (which they often were.) When I got home, I emailed my resume to Andrew Shiels, the hiring guy at Mystic. I also sent one to Party By Design, als recommended by the 481 guys.
And I put in an application at The Home Depot in Watertown.
Local 11 called me to do a load out of a Kenny Chesney show at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro. I worked from 10:00pm to about 4:00am and netted about a hundred fifty bucks. That was the last union gig I ever did until last summer in Albuquerque.
The Home Depot called me for an interview. I went in and talked to the manager. He sent me to a drug testing place in Brookline and set me up for an orientation class the following Tuesday, provided the drug test results were in. Well, the test results were not in for any of us scheduled for that class. I went to Watertown and was sent back home. The training was rescheduled for Saturday. I was pretty bummed out.
Then Wednesday, Party By Design called me to come interview, which I did. They were happy with me and thought they could hire me, they'd let me know in a couple of days.
Then Thursday Mystic called me in for an interview. They were happy with me and thought they could hire me, and I should call back on Friday afternoon. Suddenly, on Friday, August 19th, I was faced with telling two of my definite prospects that I was not available.
On Monday, August 22nd, I hauled my tools to Norwood for my first day at Mystic Scenic Studios, a happy union that lasted almost four years.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
