Wozniak and The 1982 Us Festival - Part 1
Launching Steve Wozniak Worldwide
In June, 1980, messages were left on my voice mail three times over two weeks. I didn’t respond. Something about computers - a word I had vaguely heard in the ether - but associated with IBM´s room-sized mainframe contraptions that a boyfriend had worked on. I picked up the phone on the third try and listed to broad, brush-stroked-details about a project for the inventor of the Apple Computer. The names Apple and Wozniak meant nothing to me, nor did Unuson Corporation (Unite Us In Song), the company Woz started for the project. I’m flying down to the Long Beach Airport to meet you, can you make it on Thursday? he asked. Persistence and his flying down spoke loudly.
Sitting at the airport over a cup of mud coffee and a cardboard lunch, I listened patiently to the outrageous scope of the project. A 3-day rock´n roll and computer extravaganza. No site had been secured yet which made me distrustful. A $12.5 million budget funded entirely by Wozniak. That got my attention, as that kind of money in those days was beyond imagination. Bill Graham, San Francisco’s rock impresario was contracted for the staging and talent securement. Great! I had worked successfully with Graham on a photo shoot for Ringling Bros. Circus four years before. A cockamamie theme of “Us” to usher in a new “Us Generation” from the “Me Generation” of the 60´s. This made my skin crawl. What did Us have to do with rock and the introduction of new computer innovations? It was farfetched, confusing and misguided in my mind. But the theme was set in cement by a friend of Woz’s who had spent a number of years working in Japan where employees worked as one and individuality was discouraged.
Despite my initial misgivings, the budget and enormity of the project hit me viscerally where my best advisors reside. When making decisions of any sort, I learned to stay out of my head and to use my brain for cut-and-dried decisions, like where to bank or what underwear suited various phases of my changing body. Easy. No emotion needed. My gut screamed as butterflies flapped against my tightening insides. My heart beat fast and my breathing increased — telltale signs that this project was my next best step. Where do I sign, I asked, trying to hide my enthusiasm. We’re interviewing five top Los Angeles public relations firms at Unuson. We’ll let you know the date, he responded. The flapping wings in my stomach went limp as my head churned around the improbability that I would successfully land the project. I had left a big LA ad agency and my sports and entertainment clients to work in a field that allowed me more personal creativity than pushing clients’ ad campaigns through the copy and art, the production and accounting departments who were all unfit for fast paced entertainment needs. I then presented the finished campaign at clients’ offices like a waitress serving a chef’s culinary creations to a table of hungry customers. Oh! Lest I forget: I was also fed up with a boss’s molestation on a business trip and a client’s tales of what happened to him in 1952 under the very table at which we sat at the Los Angeles Forum.
At the time of the airport meeting, I was a sole PR practitioner with no office and three small corporate clients, strategizing my way into the movie industry, perhaps as a talent agent, a consultant to a celebrity, a unit publicist on a film. I was recommended for this new-business pitch through a close friend at Lucasfilms who had joined George Lucas in San Francisco at the start of his career, prior to Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark movies. We thought she was insane to move to Los Angeles with no job description, working for a relatively unknown. In no time, she traveled the world to negotiate contracts with toy manufacturers and developed Lucas´ Licensing and Merchandising Department, the first such business in the film industry. Her work surpassed that of her lawyer-boss, who Lucas had fired before giving her his job. The lawyer moved on to join Wozniak on the Us Festival project. It was he whom I met at the airport.
Using what I learned as a Northern California publicist for brilliant promotional company, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, and as their advertising agent at DJMC Advertising in Los Angeles, I created a daily, 1.5 year PR plan that that led up to the festival. I was simultaneously terrified yet confident. I had never pitched a client before as they all had come knocking. There are always two wars within me, whether I produce an event, paint a canvas, design and knit a sweater, renovate an historic 1800s ark (houseboat) or build a house in Mexico. This is the nature of innovative work. Fear and confidence fighting for control. One must choose confidence every time the butterflies take flight and toss insecurity to the devil. As the last one scheduled to present, I watched groups of big-gun suits leave the company’s conference room one by one, waiting for Unuson’s decision. I walked out with the project.
There was a lot resting on my shoulders. Ticket sales for one. There was no precedent for such an event except Woodstock which was organic and didn’t involve explaining this new computer technology. This event had a budget that assured many things would succeed. To put a wet finger to the wind, I met with two different top Hollywood PR men who knew less that I did, and who eventually called to ask if I would hire them to work on the event. My biggest fear was understanding and being able to translate Woz’s world to the media and the general public, as well as getting the media to even listen to my 1-minute telephone follow-up pitches to our press release mailings. While no one dared to mention an expected attendance figure, I used 200,000 according to the number of camping facilities and 250,000 parking spaces that were to be constructed. Woodstock drew 300,000 and therefore was bigger. One might have said that the US Festival would be a walk in the park. But without today’s technology, that was the farthest thing from the truth. With no internet, email, cellphones and fax machines, the publicity campaign required enormous amounts of time and manual labor, expensive worldwide telephone calls and constant strategy changes to generate media interest. Add to this, I am one who, to this day, believes that no one will attend any party, promotion or event that I produce, despite never having a failure…except the Us Festival’s first press conference.
I’ll take him to a nice dinner at a French restaurant in San Francisco, I told my clients the week before flying to Berkeley to meet Woz. He had taken a leave from Apple Computers after he designed the Apple I and II to finish his Electrical Engineering and Computer Science degree that he started years before. He was living in a student apartment at UC Berkeley under the pseuydom, Rocky Clark. He fooled no one. Around this time, he and his new wife Candy, a former Olympian kayaker, and two friends were badly injured in a plane crash which Woz was piloting. He had an awakening, he later told me, that he could introduce the new Homebrew Computer Clubs´technical innovations, and his and Steve Jobs´computers, using music to draw the youth. His idea seemed outlandish and took me awhile to absorb since technology itself was a confusing concept that I had to first unravel, and then understand how it would affect our future. At this point he had become a multimillionaire for the invention of the Apple I and II and their various components.
Don’t take him to a French restaurant! He will not be comfortable! I was warned. He prefers pizza and coke. Armed with just that and the PR campaign bound in a notebook, I started up the slippery, mossy steps to Woz’s apartment. SPLAT! The whole lot flew off in different directions as I fell to my knees. At the top of the stairs, stood a young, bearded man who stood looking at me but not moving. This is how I greet new clients, I laughed, frantically gathering up the papers, spilt cokes and pizza before the 10-second rule was up. I took two more steps. SPLAT! At this point, chivalry jumped in and my belongings, the food and a mortified I were helped up and into the apartment where I was directed to cushions on the floor.
To my relief, Woz’s generous demeanor smoothed over my horror. It helped me to relax enough to eat while getting to know him, after which I presented the campaign. I found him to be very approachable, yet with a razor sharp mind that cut to the quick. He was a man of chosen words who seemed to have little interest in knowing me or how I qualified for this task. He was all business, despite having a side that loved playing pranks on people. It was clear that he had little previous experience with the media as he refused to deal with television because he felt it was untrustworthy. Without television, we are crippled, I explained. There was no Silicon Valley then and no technical magazines. While Jobs was brilliant at marketing Apple, the burgeoning industry was out of the mainstream. I assured him that we would start slowly with his one-sheet, tech-news buddies and graduate to interviews with local business, news, music, entertainment editors, then wire services including Reuters, Associated Press (AP) and United Press International. (UPI) and finally fan out to national and international media after we secured local interest. He arranged the first three interviews with his friends who we met individually at a pizza parlor in Berkeley. I critiqued him after each interview until his confidence grew and his message about the goal and details of the Us Festival were refined. In time, he became a subtle trickster with the media. They never knew what hit them.
Through another client, I learned his close friend was a man named Michael Fuchs who was the head of the new Home Box Office (HBO). My client made a call on my behalf that paved the way for a conversation. I called and asked if I could fly to New York and spend a half hour to discuss a large event that he might be interested in covering. Four times I was rebuffed via his assistant until he called back to say he was coming to Los Angeles and would give me 15 minutes of his time, not 16. I had Woz fly down from San Jose and a slide presentation set up at the Beverly Hills Hotel. An hour before Fuchs made his entrance, the equipment failed. The next hour was spent frantically calling all over LA for replacements which took what seemed like days to arrive. The tension was unbearable. Everything arrived and was being set up just as Fuchs entered the room. He spent an hour with us, won over by Woz and the overall plan. He decided to send cameramen to the festival with the idea of doing a follow-up documentary film on the event.
Glen Helen Public Park in Devore, California, a horse town outside of San Bernardino, was secured by Unuson for the site. The fire and police departments, mayor and other dignitaries were brought into the planning stages before the work began and quietly provided small “gifts” such as a brand new, red fire truck and more that went unspoken. One night at the start of the project, the Devore residents were in an uproar at a public meeting. One pistol-packing rancher turned to me and threatened problems if the Hells Angeles or concert attendees overran their town. No problem! said Unuson’s vice president. A helicopter pad was installed for emergencies, guards were hired to block off the entrance and Hawaiian vacations were granted to a few who wanted to escape the 3-day event.
Bill Graham’s staff arrived on site to pave the way for the staging and talent accommodations. We all interacted well without any problems. Work started on the world’s largest concert bowl. Two miles of irrigation pipe was laid in to water a new fast-growing (Monsanto?) grass seed. The parking and camping spots were under construction by the Unuson construction crew, while traffic was planned and overseen by the retired chief of the California Highway Patrol, Arnie Zink and his brother who was also retired from the Patrol. A triage and two emergency helicopter pads were installed to assure help for any injuries or deaths. Five hundred Port-A-Potties were contracted and 200 concession stands brought in. Backstage, talent accommodations were created away from prying attendees and staff. Two circus tents were raised for the world’s first tech exposition and another as a mess hall for my 1,000 media attendees. Since there was no electricity for the news services’ needs. So areas for their RV’s were cleared while phone booths and telephone lines were installed for the transmittal to home offices of immediate news updates and photos.
Talent Accommodations. Photographer: Unknown
When I landed the project, I rushed to rent office space in Westwood Village where I lived. Gathering up my New York sister, neighbors and friends with solid business backgrounds, I staffed not only the project but other entertainment accounts who hired Metzger & Company to promote their upcoming LA shows.
While driving between Westwood and Devore each week, it became clear that I needed to be onsite with Woz (when he flew down) and the crew to develop story angles for ongoing press releases we spewed out each week to international media contacts I developed for the event. Home on site was an industrial trailer that I shared with Unuson’s president and vice president, who married early into the project. They slept on one end, rocking the trailer at night, my sister and I in the middle, and Arnie and his brother flanking the other side. We all worked harder each day than I had ever imagined, often collapsing with Graham’s team into a natural hot spring at a nearby nudist ranch to unwind and smoke pot.
Home for Six of Us at Us, 1982; Truck accident to our home (R). Photos: Bonnie Metzger
Since there was no technology then, all communication I developed with media from Russia, Japan, Argentina, Mexico, Canada, Europe and the States, was done by typewriters and mailings. One staffer at my Westwood office was assigned the arduous task of typing, Xeroxing, folding, stuffing, licking, sealing and mailing 3000 press releases twice a week for six months that announced the latest updates and talent for a year leading up to Opening Day. It is no mystery why she didn’t speak to me for years afterwards, nor was it hard to understand why my staff rebelled when I wasn’t available to manage my other clients in person. I was working 18 hours a day, 7 days a week. My weekly trip back didn't do it for them, but they got the work done despite not understanding the pressure and workload I was undertaking in Devore.
You are a team in the trenches of such an environment. At war within the team, as it turned out, and at war with yourself to pull off the impossible. Every fiber of your being is on high alert. Sleep is replaced by a review the day’s work and the work to be done. Laughter and camaraderie kept things light. On-site massages helped tired bodies. Temporary bonds were easily developed, as they are on films. Arnie, the former Chief of the California Highway Patrol and I developed such a bond.
Beloved by everyone including the Graham camp, he was the ballast for our ship. One day, he awoke and found a lump behind his ear. A month after he returned to the site, we were shocked to see that half of his face was paralyzed. His eye and lip drooped from an accidental cutting of his facial nerve. Look what they did, Squirt! he said. He repeated a similar wail when he lost all of the hair on his degenerating body. As a former cop, Arnie was used to arresting people for driving while stoned, so the idea of smoking pot to ease his cancer took some coxing. We gave him a kilo and I taught him how to use it. Many nights I drove him to the top of a mountain to talk about what he was going through, as he was tight lipped and used humor as a cover. In time, both pot and his ability to talk openly to me were his saviors and lessened the load he was carrying, he said. We catered to him at our nightly dinners at Woz’s onsite house when Woz was away, giving Arnie massages, food and love as he laid his head in my lap and his feet in another’s. He was 58, handsome, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was vibrant, funny and deeply caring to everyone. He was one of the best men I have known. Unuson named a road in his name. At the dedication ceremony, he was flummoxed about the attention he was getting. He stayed on to complete his work despite his pain and inevitable future.
Tickets couldn’t be sold on publicity alone; the event needed a solid ad campaign. I returned to LA to meet with a number of top ad agencies who, it was clear, were not experienced in fast-paced entertainment and would have been a hinderance to my needs. Thankfully, I found an excellent boutique ad agency which was experienced in entertainment advertising, TV and radio promotions which would successfully support the PR effort and ticket sales.
Rolling Stone Magazine was key to the campaign’s kickoff. Wozniak WHO? the music editor asked. My explanation of who Woz was held little interest in him. We have seen concerts come and go because of no money, he said in a haughty voice over the phone. We have $12.5 million, I insisted. Who’s the talent? he asked. He got me there. At that point I had a site and no talent as Graham was busy on The Rolling Stones European concert tour and was behind in securing Woz’s favorite bands whose schedules were being booked up fast. Without talent, you don’t have a story, he said.
A week later I called him back. You are missing out on the largest rock ‘n roll story since Woodstock! I insisted. He reluctantly gave me a column with the threat that if the festival didn’t happen, my name was mud. In retrospect, I should have called Jann Wenner, the owner/publisher, who had offered me a job six years earlier as the magazine’s advertising manager, after rejecting me as his assistant when the magazine first started in San Francisco. I was not hired for the fatal mistake of saying it was an underground magazine. He might have saved me the screaming wrath that was to come my way from Bill Graham for only securing a column.
Out of respect for the local community, I held a press conference to announce the festival plans in San Bernardino. Woz flew down for the occasion. Only one local weekly magazine reporter showed up. With burning hot, fried egg on my face, I feared it was my end. My insides sunk in a dread and fear that I couldn’t shake. I treated the reporter as if he were the editor-in-chief for the Los Angeles Times, and was thankful for Woz’s generous understanding that not everything goes as planned. The Us concept and an unknown Woz were just not cutting it. I had to rethink the strategy. Snap! I got an idea. To see something is to believe it. I invited key local and LA media to visit me on the site. In cowboy boots and a pick up truck, I drove them around the site, one by one over a weeks time to see the scope of the festival, followed by meetings with Woz and Graham individually, once Graham had returned from Europe. Bingo! The story went viral. Soon my 6 phones lit up all day long from 3000 media wanting story updates and passes to the event.
I was confident that my previous success with Graham during the circus photo shoot and his ensuing use of the circus theme for a concert and office decor, would insure a good working relationship. I soon learned that was wishful thinking. After he lambasted me for my Rolling Stones “failure” despite the fact that I had no talent to promote, and a ticking time bomb over my head to generate ticket sales, he put me on his black list, along with the Woz team which he despised. Their weekly meetings were an education in New Age behavior — a hand-holding circle complete with meditations before the meetings began. There are times that I have felt “too Yankee”. This was one. I was very uncomfortable with what I saw to be an unprofessional, inappropriate ritual that made both Graham and I want to flee. Woz was never there so I don’t know how he would have taken to it.
Soon, Graham wanted me to deflect to his side. I explained that I was an independent contractor and belonged to no one and that Woz was paying my fee. Sophie’s Choice. Every encounter with Graham after that raised purple veins in his neck (not to be confused with Purple Rain which was my next project), as he screamed at me and others for reasons only he knew. I believe that his anger stemmed from our seamless — and non-dramatic— success in the work we all undertook prior to his arrival. HE was the king of rock ´n roll. Who were these interlopers!? I give hats off to Unuson´s president and vice president who’s positivity and undying belief in success lead a very tight ship.
Little did we know what Graham had in store. Nor how he would affect my health.
****
Part II to follow.