This time I was on my own and flying into Tampa to meet with the Stadium authority about bringing Led Zeppelin to town. Terry Bassett had first come to know these guys. Joe Zalupski was the Director and his right-hand man was Bob ******, his manager. Joe was on the “hip” side but always very proper as “the director.” He was smooth. Bob was a nervous sort but let you know he ran things at Tampa Stadium. He always made those kinds of inferences when Joe wasn’t around. The Tampa Sports Authority also oversaw the baseball field where the Cincinnati Reds conducted their spring training at the time. The Reds have since moved on to Sarasota and the Yankees have taken over Tampa as their spring site. Anyway, the meeting went well and I headed back to Atlanta to do my homework and prepare a budget for the show with the new figures I’d received from Pierce.
On that May 5th, 1973 day we packed 56,272 paid into Tampa Stadium. Hundreds of white doves were flown in from New York. “There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold and she’s buying a stairway to heaven. When she gets there she knows if the stores are closed, with a word she can get what she came for. And she’s buying a stairway to heaven, uh uh uh.” On that Robert Plant note, the doves were released, who knows where they ended up, but it all made for a very surrealistic moment at one of the biggest concert presentations of that year.
Stairway To Heaven is considered by many to be the most popular song in rock ‘n roll history. Several personnel from Concerts West were on hand for that performance. Joe Crowley out of the Seattle office, who was always in charge of staging f or a Led Zeppelin show, was putting in his normal eighteen hour day. He had the amazing ability to get along with Led Zeppelin’s grotesque and hugely overweight manager, Peter Grant. Among Joe’s “important” responsibilities was to make sure that the two sides of the stage and the back were roped like a boxing ri
ng. That was to make sure that Peter, when stumbling around the stage in a Quaalude induced stupor,
(photo: Peter Grant & Robert Plante)
wouldn’t fall off and break the bottle of Blue Nun that he always seemed to be guzzling. Yes, Rock n’ Roll in the 70’s WAS everything you expected it to be.
One of Joe Crowley’s assignments when the band played Seattle was to find a “woman of the night” for Peter. So Joe headed on down to Seattle’s First Avenue and latched onto a black hooker looking so fine in her five inch heels and dressed to the nines. She was informed that her next encounter would perhaps be with the most disgusting man of her career but he was a person of great wealth and it would be well worth her time. After the woman had retired to Grant’s room, you can imagine the look on Joe’s face when a bellhop at the hotel informed him that he knew this woman. And she wasn’t a woman at all but a guy in drag. A look of dread fell over Joe’s face as he knew he would be forced to face the wrath of Peter Grant.
At the time Led Zeppelin was one of Concerts West’s biggest money makers and Crowley figured at the very least he would lose his gig. Imagine his surprise when he was congratulated by Grant. What imagination! What a guy was that Joe Crowley!. A hooker in drag was just what Peter had in mind.
Anyway, after the successful Led Zeppelin performance, Bob ***** and his now “seasoned” staff couldn’t wait ‘til the next show. They suddenly knew the ways of rock concerts; there was nothing to this game but there was one thing they’d learned. There weren’t enough police on hand for “The Zep” as Bob now liked to refer to them. But on this particular day I was talking to he and the stadium staff about an entirely different kind of act. We were talking about bringing in the group Chicago. We’d play to just one side of the stadium. Chicago wasn’t like Led Zeppelin, these guys were tame. Most of them ex-studio musicians with the emphasis on musicians. People came to see Led Zeppelin for the music and show. Fan flocked to see Chicago strictly for the music. So it was a well behaved 18,000 people that enjoyed the Chicago and all their many hits in 1974 at Tampa Stadium. I also enjoyed it. That is, until I got the bill for the police.
Bob ***** had taken it upon himself to order over a hundred off-duty cops. He certainly didn’t want another Led Zeppelin when, god knows, we were hugely understaffed.
Remember, I said Bob was the nervous type and after all, he had to answer to the Tampa Stadium Authority, his bosses. Imagine his dismay, a few months after the Led Zeppelin show, when marijuana sprouts came peeking through the hallowed turf of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Pot seeds had fallen to the ground. Every time a joint was rolled, a few seeds escaped and with the humid weather in Central Florida and the extra amount of watering this professional football field received, it was just the perfect environment for cultivating. I never found out how Bob explained it or how the problem was dealt with. All I remember is the frantic sound of him on the other end of the line, chewing me out for allowing something like this to happen.
Two years later Led Zeppelin was to make a triumphant return to the scene of their previous huge success at Tampa Stadium. This time it was to be “The Concert” of their North American Tour. I was now living in Los Angeles and had opened a Concerts West office in that city.
Because of my past dealings with the Tampa Stadium Authority I was selected to organize things leading up to and including the day of the show. Two days prior to the show I should have realized how things would go. Perhaps this was an omen.
As I drove to the stadium on North Dale Mabry, I looked up at the reader board over the front of a lounge a couple of blocks away. It read, “WELCOME FRED ZEPPELIN AND HIS GROUP.” Things went downhill from that point.
The usual nervousness from Bob *****, “What time will The Zep get here?” Kids were already camping out in the area, “We’re going to have to search them for pot this time.”
“Bob, we can’t do that, there'd be nobody' left!”
And on and on…
Comes the day of the show. This was going to be HUGE. Fans had hitch-hiked from as far west as California and as far north as New England. It was billed as THE event of the summer. Led Zeppelin in Tampa Stadium – shit, you had to be there for this one or at least say you were.
The band was flying in from Miami where they were staying at the Doral Beach Hotel. While at the hotel they’d already flooded the game room and had run up a quarter million dollars in damages for that alone. The Doral didn’t mind. Hell, they marked up everything three and four fold. As far as the band was concerned, they probably didn’t know the amount. It was all handled by their attorney Steve Weiss, manager Peter Grant and road manager Richard Cole. And of course Concerts West, as expected, would front the money. Visualize the amounts of cash flowing these days- a 250k was chump-change.
It was a daytime show set to start at 2p. No opening act, it was all Led Zeppelin. The group was to arrive around noon. They had a large entourage with wives and kids, all coming to Tampa. It was close to Disney World and we’d hired clowns and costumed little people from Orlando just to come and entertain the family members in the dressing room before the show. Popcorn venders, balloon blowers and a Disney mouse or two. We were ready for Led Zeppelin AND their families.
The weather looked threatening around 10 o’clock that morning and Bob and I were both on needles and pins. We’d constantly call nearby McDill Air Force Base for the latest weather update. “It’s going to rain for a bit but it won’t amount to much and then it’ll be gone.” I’d learned from living in the Atlanta area and traveling frequently throughout Florida that a thundershower in the afternoon is a near daily occurrence. But why did it have to happen today? We had some showers off and on, nothing that amounted to much. Bands have been known to play in much worse conditions but of course with all the electrical equipment on stage it was always a risk.
Around noon the band arrived. They’d flown in of course in their private plane from Miami accompanied by Steve Weiss, Peter Grant, Richard Cole and many family members all escorted by my old friend, Tom Hulett. He was always the one to head up a Led Zeppelin tour. He had developed a good rapport with Steve through their earlier days with Jimi Hendrix.
Weiss also represented Jimi, which had been the first touring act for Concerts West.
So “Mister Nonchalant” Tom Hulett came bouncing in glad-handing everyone. Bob was so relieved: the group was here and the REAL boss of Concerts West had arrived.
Tom knew how to kiss it up to those who needed it but still remain bigger than life in the world of show business; at least in his own mind. Those of us who had seen this act over and over just chuckled inside.
“The weather?” I filled Tom in on the situation, a shower or two but it would blow over and not amount to much. So off everyone went to the Buccaneers' dressing rooms amongst the clowns and mice.
“What’d ya say we call McDill again Bob?” Update still the same, nothing changed.
Before you knew it, it was SHOWTIME! This event was HUGE! There must have been sixty to seventy-thousand, probably more. As the smell of weed wafted throughout the stadium, the clock edged up to two pm. The band still hadn’t shown on stage but they’d be along momentarily; As soon as their kids finished with Bozo the Clown and the popcorn.
It wasn’t long before I heard guitars being tuned and just like that, Led Zeppelin had taken the stage. On the way up the stairs to the stage Hulett again asked me about the weather. Perhaps a light shower, nothing serious. “Let’s get the show going Tom while the weather’s good,” I encouraged. “Don’t be so nervous,” he told me.
Easy for him to say, I’d been hanging with Bob **** for a few days, it rubbed off.
And then it started, the concert was underway. I can’t even remember the song because about a minute into it, the rain began.
Then the music stopped! The showers continued for a few minutes and before you knew it, everyone was leaving the stage.
Shit. “Tom, Tom, keep them up here, this will blow over in a couple of minutes.”
But Hulett was busy, herding band members and directing roadies to round up the families.
Led Zeppelin wasn’t heading for the dressing room. They were headed for the limos. They were leaving! “Shit, Tom they can’t leave!” I pleaded.
It was too late. The last words I remember from Tom Hulett, “Tell ‘em we’ll be back tomorrow.”
If only things were that simple.
I had to go on stage and tell the thousands in front of me that the band wasn’t going to perform today. They would be back tomorrow. “Hold on to your ticket stubs, which will get you back in to tomorrow’s show.”
Only I couldn’t be heard- the roadies had disconnected the sound system because of the rain. The sound was only working on one side of the field. This problem was brought up before the show but quickly discarded because we always had the group’s sound system.
Many in the crowd didn’t know the situation- that Led Zeppelin would supposedly return to perform the next day.
I headed for the Buccaneers' offices to figure out my next move. About that time, the skies parted and it was beautiful. That made it even more difficult to explain why the concert hadn’t continued.
Gathering my thoughts I explained to Bob that we’d do it tomorrow just like we did it today. He was quick to inform me of all the extra costs; double police, stadium personnel, stagehands. “Not a problem Bob” as I went searching for a valium.
Now, a guy I'll call Carl enters the picture. He’s a Concerts West employee out of the Dallas office assigned to assist in the show. We were on the third floor of the Tampa Bay Buccaneer offices and he informs me that a mob is gathering downstairs and he’s told them to line up to get their money back. “What!! You What? We don’t have any money here; it’s all at the ticket agencies.” I couldn‘t refund money if I wanted to.
I believe in my entire lifetime that was the most fear I ever experienced. I sent Carl back down with a bull-horn to explain that money isn’t here and that they can get back in to tomorrow’s show with their ticket stubs. And if someone wants their money back they can return their ticket stubs for a refund. But not today- Monday at the ticket agencies.
They continued to rant and rave but time takes care of things and in what seemed like hours, the crowd was thinning. It was then that Tampa Stadium Director Joe Zalupski appeared. He was very calm and just wanted to know what happened. I explained and admitted that we most likely overreacted and stopped things too soon. Could we reschedule the show for tomorrow? Much to my surprise, that wasn’t a certainty. “There’d have to be meetings,” Joe said. “I don’t know, let me call the mayor and police chief.”
The grumbling by stadium personnel continued and calls were now coming in of damage reports. Bob called the police station. “What’s going on,” he asked. “You’re kidding,” a worried look on his face. Bob turned to me and said, “They are breaking windows in every strip mall and shopping center in a four mile radius.”
Between that wonderful news and the frown on Joe Zulupski’s face just before he left, made me wonder if we’d be able to pull this off tomorrow at all. Joe was having dinner at home and would be back later. It was obvious he was disgusted.
Bob and I were trying to get some of the show’s bills together; when the phone ran. It was Zalupski. He’d set up a meeting at the stadium with the mayor and the police chief but they couldn’t be there until 11 o’clock.
We stayed busy, I made a few phone calls to California and soon it was meeting time. I was selling my ass off to the city officials that were gathered, trying to get this thing on again tomorrow. “How do we know the same thing won’t happen again?” “How can you assure us the group will even show up?” Those were the questions that were being thrown at me. I was doing my damndest and I felt inside my gut that I was winning.
Just then Carl entered the room. Remember the employee from Dallas? He was holding a bottle of wine and had obviously partaken in one of the big recreations of the '70, dropping Quaaludes. He’d had a minimum of two. He listened for a moment to the conversation between me, Mr. Mayor, Mr. Police Chief and Mr. Zulupski. The “the man from Dallas," with all the class he could muster under the circumstances, was leaning against the wall and fading fast. In that brief moment it was lights out and all over for Carl. He had literally slid down the wall and was slumped to the floor.
It was also all over for MY act and Led Zeppelin’s as well. I leaned over to Sims Hinds, an assistant of mine from my Atlanta days and said, “Get that fucking guy out of here.”
The mayor and police chief had seen all they needed to see, telling Director Zalupski he should be more selective with whom he does business. What, you mean Concerts West hadn’t made a good impression?
So, I called Hulett to inform him there will be no tomorrow. He was dumbfounded. I had the feeling he thought it was my fault because I had failed to pull it off. Monday the ticket agencies began refunding. Phone calls between the Seattle Concerts West accounting office and Tampa Stadium authorities assuring that all monies would be paid in full.
If there was one thing that Concerts West was known for, besides sliding down walls, was that our word was golden. We never knowing screwed anyone that didn’t have it coming. Years later it was discovered that one of the major partners was screwing the others but that’s another story. I was finally on my way back to Los Angeles, having aged at least a couple of years and radio was looking better to me all the time!
great story. i really could feel i was there.
keep 'em coming!
Posted by: Puget Sound Blathers | October 29, 2011 at 08:55 AM
Love this book (what I have read so far)
Posted by: Ed Bennett | October 29, 2011 at 06:57 PM
Interesting read ! a Led Zep fan back then.
Posted by: KS | October 29, 2011 at 08:15 PM
What I don't understand is why Dick Curtis would collaborate with Michael Hood who has constantly waged smear campaigns against the very people that Curtis hs worked for in the Seattle radio market. I understandt that Dick wants to sell books but does he have to sell his soul to the Hood Devil to do so/ Hood has attacked and maligned a number of Curtis's radio colleagues. Why, Dick, why?
Posted by: Jim | October 30, 2011 at 12:55 AM
Jim ... Dick is not selling this. It is his informal recollection of events to be shared with family and friends. His sharing of the content is because people have expressed an interest in his content. (Hope that helps)
Posted by: Eric | October 30, 2011 at 09:43 AM
Michael Hood and Dick Curtis are old friends from the '60's and practically related. I believe Hoods sister was married to Dick at one time and vice versa. Hood himself was married to one of Dick's ex-wives i"m pretty sure. He worked at KJR and I believe KOL as a car parker and events muscle. He is a nephew or something of Al Cummings, the old morning talker which got him into the Seattle radio business. He was always a bridesmaid, never made it on-air to my knowledge. He might be blackmailing Dick to get this stuff. Maybe he knows too much.
Posted by: Chuck Bobuck | October 30, 2011 at 08:39 PM
I would pay money to see the stuff Michael has been asked to with hold> Thanks for this book, Dick. It's fascinating and I didn't even grow up in that era. What a life you have led!
Posted by: Rod Blume | October 31, 2011 at 08:28 AM
Hi Chuck Bobuck. Just to set the record straight, Michael Hood and I have never met each other and we have never talked on the telephone to each other, EVER. Chuck I think you should write yourself a book...purely fiction, of course.
Posted by: Dick Curtis | October 31, 2011 at 03:40 PM
What Dick Curtis said.
Posted by: blathering michael | October 31, 2011 at 09:05 PM
Still....but WHY, Dick? Michael Hood could be considered as a mitigating factor in the death of Mike Webb--who was a former PD of KVI! He has done more to destroy careers and tarnish the names of radio people who work VERY DAMN HARD in an industry that is very unforgiving and cruel. On one hand Hood is jealous of those on the air, but then extends the other hand to a radio legend to tell stories.
Posted by: JimF | November 12, 2011 at 12:51 PM