OK, so now I am officially a pimp. Oh, what a long, twisted path I have traveled to get to this place in my career, but I have finally arrived. Much like any other kid with a guitar and a dream, my ambition was to make beautiful music and be heard the world over. Alas, it is not meant to be, and destiny has placed my shining star behind an audio console, relegating me to life of servitude as I feverishly dial, fade, cut and boost my way to glory while utilizing the auditory magic of other shining stars. Always willing to rise to a challenge, I found myself tour managing, road managing, production managing and even promoting these shining stars of stage and screen. Often, by default, I would find myself doing these other jobs in addition to my engineering responsibilities. Be that as it may, it all seemed like a natural progression from one job to the other, and though I may have been a bit of a "gig whore," pimping was never part of my job description. As the years progressed, I learned that the more control I have of any given situation, the more I can ensure the success of the event. Therefore, I accepted the many new responsibilities thrust upon me, and while there are days that I still find myself behind a mixing console, much of my time is spent brokering deals, booking artists, arranging production, finding venues and even catering. It happened gradually over a period of time, but one day I took stock and realized that, without really knowing it, I had become one of the dreaded and much-maligned–I had become an "event… ent…ent planner…ner…ner." Well, not really, but I do have clients who hire me to book well-known artists for their private parties because I am also capable of bringing in the production the artist requires. In many cases, the venue where these events take place are a client's living room, backyard or some other weird location that the artists are not used to playing. By assuming all the various responsibilities associated with the event, I find I have to deal less and less with many of these 2.5K "planner" types who haven't a clue as to what a band might require, or why the roof for a stage cannot be a circus tent with center poles.
Anyway, despite what one may want to call me–and I have been called many things–I found myself going to Las Vegas to stage a show for one of my clients. My client's concept was to fly 150 of his closest friends to the oasis in the desert and entertain them in a classic Las Vegas style. Unfortunately Frankie, Dean and Sammy were not available, and Steve and Edie wouldn't play the event without a huge orchestra backing them up, a scenario which wouldn't work well in one of the party suites of the Palms Hotel. We then thought Don Rickles would be a good bet, but Don apparently will not work without a band either. Wayne Newton, believe it or not, is not my client's cup of tea, and Neil Diamond was out on tour. So the old style Vegas shindig was out, and I ended up booking the very talented Sandra Bernhard for the event.
Before I left New York, I made arrangements with a Las Vegas company to bring in the stage, sound and lights, after which I called the S.I.R. office in Vegas and determined that they would bring a baby grand to the event. I had spoken to all the necessary hotel people at The Palms to let them know what was to be expected, and everything was moving along smoothly. About two days before I was to depart New York, my client called and requested that I book a cocktail pianist for preshow entertainment and a DJ who could spin into the wee hours of the morning after Sandra performed her set. At that point in the game, using a major booking agent would have taken too much time, so on a whim I called the S.I.R. office in Vegas and asked Marty Mahony if he could help me in my talent search. Marty runs the Vegas branch of S.I.R., and in addition to his other responsibilities, he maintains a small talent agency and was more than willing to assist me in my time of need.
Upon arriving at The Palms, I learned that the party suite is a huge two-bedroom apartment with nine separate plasma screen televisions, three bathrooms, a Jacuzzi, a bar and an electric fireplace for those cold desert nights. Another interesting feature of the suite is that one of the showers has changeable colored lights and multiple water jets that fire in every direction and, if this is not enough, the hotel had the foresight to place a stripper's pole dead center in the shower and a window that overlooks the bar. With a flip of a switch from inside the shower, the window changes from opaque to clear, thus allowing the bar and the living room a perfect view of whatever activities might be taking place in the shower.
The following day, after everything was set up and in place, and as I was awaiting sound check, my client's assistant came to me and requested, on behalf of my client, that I arrange for a beautiful buxom blonde and a buff, dark-haired guy to dance together in the shower while the DJ played after Sandra's set. The idea was that directly after Sandra's performance, the DJ would hit the downbeat, and one of the dancers would flip the switch to change the window from opaque to clear and reveal to the party all that was taking place in the shower. While I have worked with a variety of artists throughout my career, I have never been called upon to book strippers for an event, but considering that I was in Las Vegas and with the desire to please my client, I rose to the challenge.
The first thing I did was open the phone book to "Strippers," which then led me to the escort section of the Yellow Pages. The companies are easy to find–each one has a full-page advertisement promoting their own unique services which, in the long run, are not that different from one another. Not knowing any of the companies listed in the phone book, I decided to call the hotel concierge, thinking that in Vegas, any selfrespecting concierge would know where to direct me in my unique quest for flesh. I was wrong and Vegas is apparently more family-oriented than I had remembered. I called the audio company and he gave me a number, but when I called, I was told that it might take some time to fill my request, so I then started perusing the full-page ads in the Yellow Pages.
Apparently, my request was not all that unusual, but each person to whom I spoke seemed to assume that the phrase "all lathered up and dancing together in a shower around a pole for 150 people" is a hidden code for some deviant act. I was getting to the end of the full-page ads when I finally spoke to one young lady who (after repeating the words "beautiful, blond, buxom, buff, lathered, dancing, no contact with the audience") informed me that I needn't worry, as she had been doing this type of work for 15 years and knew exactly what I was seeking. Evidently, that was her code for telling me that it was nice I was being discreet, but I was a pervert who was going to pay through the nose for my kinky desires.
The girl that arrived at the suite an hour before showtime was, to say the least, neither buxom nor beautiful, and whether or not she was a blonde is a matter of opinion. She knew nothing about dancing in a shower and had it in her mind that she would be "entertaining" at a bachelor party for 50 people. Also, when asked about her "buff, dark-haired male partner," she informed me that he had been in a car accident and the agency was at that moment looking for a replacement. Even though I was down to the wire, I could not allow her to even be on the premises without my credibility being challenged, so, with a quick shot of vodka, she was sent on her way. DJ Riano, after overhearing the whole ordeal, let me know that he knew exactly who to call for this type of job, and with a quick flip of his phone, he made the arrangements for the dancers. I never got to see Sandra nor the shower show because I took the red-eye back East so I could spend some quality time with my family the following day, but I did hear that everything went well, and thanks to Riano, I was able to keep my pimp hand strong.
