The Us Festival, 1982, Part II

Behind-the-scenes

Us Festival 1982. World’s Largest Stage. Photo credit: Wade Byers, UPI

Continued from Us Festival 1982, Part I …

The final lineup: Jackson Brown, The Grateful Dead, The Talking Heads, Santana, Dave Edmunds, Fleetwood Mac, The Police, the Ramones, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, the Kinks and the Cars, The B-52s, The Beat, Gang of Four, Eddie Money, Pat Benatar, Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band and Jerry Jeff Walker.

Santana, The Us Festival 1982. Photo Credit: UPI

More than 175 people put on the US Festival on Labor Day weekend, September 1982. Steve Wozniak was shielded by Unuson from the everyday challenges and activities and mainly provided positive news…until all broke loose with Bill Graham in the days leading up to the opening. We moved our catered dinners out of Woz’s rented, on-site house as he and his wife, Candy were returning to stay full-time. Pregnant with their first child, she unexpectedly began labor a few days before Opening Day. She and Woz rushed to Los Angeles for the birth of baby boy Jessie. An hour later I got a call to purchase newborn clothes and diapers since they weren’t prepared for the birth. Surprisingly, they returned to the site that day. The timing couldn’t have been worse for Woz…or positive in terms of Jessie’s legacy.

I spent a month, in the spirit of “Us” selecting media who were allowed to attend, while overseeing the wire services who arrived a week earlier to set up their darkrooms and equipment. Many of the media contacts (paparazzi were not the major problem they became for Princess Diana) told me they were used to being treated rudely and rejected from other events by publicists. I saw them as my means to sell tickets and create a positive image for Woz and the event. Foreign press reps were waiting to book their flights and hotel accommodations from as far away as Russia and Japan, along with local and major US media, who worked with me and my assistants in the organization of their onsite needs. Four phone lines lit up day and night. We meticulously organized press passes and maps to be mailed to invited media two weeks before the opening. However, word reached me that Graham had taken control of the press and ticket booths. Without my contacts, I was unclear how he planned to communicate with them and choose who was invited. I proceeded with my plan but was beside myself that our hours and a year of organized work was replaced with unspeakable chaos for everyone. Hiring more staff to man the phones and make calls, we answered thousands of calls night and day and explained why that had not received passes and directions in the mail, that they would be at the press booth. Two thousand were declined. I look back on this power-play and think how easy this campaign would have been with the internet…and without competition from Graham.

The internal war between the two camps had begun. And I was targeted for not turning coat on Unuson.

A few days before the opening, I got wind that there was a press conference on site being held by a Los Angeles PR agency that Graham hired, featuring some of the talent. These suits had not set foot on site before this, nor knew anything about the campaign. I was furious. This was the second step in Graham’s takeover of the event.

Achalasia

One night Arnie Zink, the head of traffic and parking, and I took a break and headed for dinner at an Italian restaurant in San Bernardino. While discussing the virtues of Italian men, I passed out. My esophagus muscles constricted around my food. I couldn’t breathe. Panicked, Arnie thought I had died. Rushing to revive me, along with restaurant personnel, he paid the bill and sped to the site where a doctor said I was at my capacity for stress. Shots of B12 ensued for the next few days. This would be the beginning of an agonizing, 41-year struggle with a rare disease called Achalasia that I believe was brought on by the incessant stress of Graham and a weakened immune system.

Nightline

For months, I had been planning a live broadcast with the producer of the TV show, Nightline, which was slated to air the night before the Opening. I offered the male triumvirate of Wozniak, Bill Graham, the rock impresario and the rock star. Gathering my papers, as I was about to step into a limousine to oversee the interview on top of a nearby mountain overlooking the concert bowl. Woz’s wife, Candy appeared along with her new-born babe in arms and her mother. She insisted that they were going to participate in the broadcast with her baby. This was our first meeting. I gently explained that the producers wanted the three men who were involved in the event, something she had not. Furious, when we reached the mountain top, she left the limo and made her way to Woz. Nightline declined to include her. I was greeted by a red-faced Graham who screamed in front of the producers, Woz and Sting, YOUR STAFF IS UP HERE! GET THEM OFF THE MOUNTAIN NOW!! Stunned, I scrambled to think of who would have preceded me without permission. What staff? I asked. Pointing to a hippie-friend of Woz’s who seemed to float on an invisible cloud, he yelled, HER! I don’t know who she is, I explained, curious why such anger would be misdirected at me in front of everyone, but I soon came to see this was sabotage number two. GET HER OFF THIS HILL OR YOU WONT´T WORK THE US FESTIVAL! he yelled. I called the girl over and asked her to, Please explain to Mr. Graham that we don’t know each other. She did and left when I asked her to. Whether she was a friend of Woz’s or one of my staffers, this TV shoot was not Graham’s.

The Us Festival 1982. Photo credit: Wade Byers, UPI

Opening Day

Peaceful Glen Helen park, which we had to ourselves for more than a year, suddenly exploded in a tsunami of rushing bodies who raced up and over fencing surrounding the park. The stampede headed for the concert bowl to secure front-row, space on the newly planted grass. People lined up for what seemed like miles, waiting to purchase or present tickets before rushing to the concert bowl. The chaos at the press booth was something I couldn’t bear to watch, so I stayed at the main office watching the concert bowl fill up. Any fear I had about no one attended disappeared into the shock at the crowd which was beyond all expectation at 400,000 attendees. We kept an eye on a former police chief from San Jose who was part of the Unuson team. He had donned inappropriate combat boots and camouflage clothes, primed for war, his hand on his holster ready to strike at the slightest provocation. He appeared overwhelmed at the numbers and somehow felt crowd control was his duty alone.

Woz provided all of us with full-access gold passes. Word reached me through a Unison rep that Time and People Magazines were unable to reach me and wanted first access to Woz. I was puzzled as we didn’t have an appointment set and rushed to the backstage entrance to meet them in the press tent. I was refused entry by the Woz’s guard. You need a red pass. Frantic and confused, I ran back to the office in the beating down sun, a good 1/8 mile away, to be told that Graham had taken control of the event and locked out Unuson…and me. In Unuson´s efficient way, they somehow had obtained pass equipment and were printing and laminating red passes like flattened fruit rolls flying off a conveyor belt. I grabbed one and ran back to the gate to be rejected again. No entry. You need a red pass with a blue stripe. A half hour had gone by. People kept telling me that the press were all waiting for me for help which put the pressure on more. Exhausted from the heat, I ran back to the office a third time and grabbed a red pass with blue stripe — colors, dots, stripes, who remembers which sequence in the madness of it all.

Meanwhile Woz was on stage with his favorite musician, Jackson Browne oblivious that all of us were locked out of his event. This time, I ran into Arnie who had a golf cart. Hop in! I’ll get you through come hell or high water! One believed a cop then. But by the time we got to the barrier, red passes with blue stripes were as obsolete as a pair of 70s disco bell bottoms. We drove back to the office for a purple pass with green dots. Rejected again. Arnie took that golf cart and rammed his way between the guard and the barrier, nearly knocking both over. He drove to the second gate and was rejected. This time there was no way to get through. Furious, we drove back to the office and one of Graham’s men asked me if I wanted a ride to the stage in his truck. You have to lie down on the floor, he instructed. If Graham sees me, I’ll never work rock again.

I did as I was told, as the truck beelined past Graham’s quarters to backstage. As I ran up the stairs to the stage, Graham came out of his trailer and stood with hands on hips, staring at me in fury. I reached Woz, who stood on the lip of the stage in front of aa sea of wet fans who had been doused with hoses to combat the insufferable heat. The expensive, fast-growing grass had turned into an enormous mud puddle. They didn’t care.

I’ve been trying to reach you all day, but we’ve all been locked out by Graham, I told Woz over the deafening speakers. Time and People Magazines are waiting to interview you in the press tent. Without a thought, Woz said, I’m going to leave backstage and want you to follow me, leaving during the set of Jackson Browne, his favorite performer at the festival. We exited the backstage area through the barrier. I followed behind. As he stood watching, I turned to re-enter and presented my gold Woz pass to the guard. You can’t enter, he said. I explained that I was Woz’s press agent, that I had a gold pass which allowed me to go anywhere. Go stand with those people over there, guard said with authority, pointing to a group of Woz´s personal friends who also had been locked out; friends for whom he had built private bleachers that stood empty. WHO´S PAYING YOUR SALARY! Woz demanded, pushing his finger on the Us Festival logo of guards´ white t-shirt . Bill Graham is, said the guard, not recognizing Woz. I AM! She is my press agent and she goes wherever she needs to!

Somehow the Time reporter had gotten through the gates. Hearing the commotion, he came running to photograph and capture the story. I asked him to please not cover this, that there were a thousand positive stories in the audience and others I would give him. A couple of years later, his book, Woz, The Prodigal Son of Silicon Valley was published. In it, the reporter quoted Graham as saying that he had fired me. How could he fire me? I asked when called me for a quote. He didn’t hire me. Woz did.

The three day event was an overwhelming success in terms of attendance, logistics and planning. It succeeded in making Woz a household name. Devore was not invaded as townsfolk feared. No Hells Angels descended on the event. One person died and one was born, which was expected for a “city” this size. Peace reigned and if there were issues with the talent, only Graham’s camp knew. Graham donned a t-shirt saying “I Survived The Us Festival” which I found to be audacious. The truth is, we survived him despite his efforts to take control and ruin the work that we had birthed for 1.5 years of our efforts.

At 3:00 am while working in the office on Opening Night, I learned that my bed was confiscated by Unuson´s president for his friends, leaving me without sleeping arrangements. Rumor had it that cocaine was fueling a breakdown from the overwhelming stress. Soon he went AWOL from the event. I also nearly left, until a bed was found and Arnie convinced me that is what Graham wanted, to stay and not give in to his abuse. I felt as if I had birthed a perfect baby who was snatched out of my hands at birth. Why? My work was successfully delivered, the attendance was the largest of any rock event in the world. There was nothing left undone. Inside, I was devastated that such an incredible endeavor turned into such negativity so that Graham could come out on top. It took me until now, 41 years later, to talk in detail about my experience with the Us Festival.

Aside from the festival’s success, one major problem occurred. The ticket booth proceeds, which were controlled by Graham, went missing and Woz’s return on his $12.5 million investment was lost. My heart ached for him, but ever the optimist, he told me that he wasn’t in it to make money. His goal, too, was delivered — the introduction of Apple´s first personal computers and new technical advancements were introduced into the mainstream. And a great party was had by all attendees.

Following the event, the park returned to peace. The litter was cleaned, we all packed up our gear, and the site returned to near-normal over the course of time. The day after closing, we were all called to Woz’s onsite house for a celebration. He commended everyone for the festival’s success and said we were all hired back for the 1983 festival he planned to hold. A few of us openly grumbled about Graham, saying they wouldn’t work with him again. But many who didn’t have to deal with him were in. I knew that the second time for my efforts would be easier since all of the media contacts were intact and relationships solid. Many major media wrote to express their appreciation of their treatment under fire and said they were looking forward to covering the next event.

Celebrating the Us Festival 1982 and the birth of Jessie Wozniak. Steve Wozniak and Bonnie Metzger. Photo credit: UPI

While Graham and Woz kept the peace during the Festival, they had it out on a radio talk show after the event. The battle hit the media and spread. Woz had decided to hire a new rock impresario out of Denver who brought in his own team. Despite having submitted a recap of the campaign and a proposal for the following event, I heard nothing. It was fine. I was soon off on a film with a new musician named Prince and knew the future would be less stressful on my body and newly acquired Achalasia. Three months before the second festival, I got a call from the impresario, asking if I would come and save the publicity campaign. Tickets weren’t selling. I knew they were having problems because I had received numerous calls from the press asking me for information. They were in the dark.

I thought about it for a minute and responded that it would cost, that it was very late in game and I didn’t want to be the scapegoat for failures of the other PR firm. I threw out a fair figure and asked for appropriate accommodations and workspace. He hung up without a word. I guess he thought I would come running for the pleasure of it.

On October 25, 1991, I received a call from one of my press friends asking if I had a statement about Bill Graham. Thinking this was belated by 10 years, I asked why. Last night, he was killed in a private plane along with the pilot and his girlfriend, he said. The plane returned in bad weather from a concert in Northern California and flew into a transmission tower near Vallejo. The passengers were electrocuted and hung there in the plane until they were discovered the next morning.

No comment, I told him through my shock.

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