Read Queen Unseen for Free Online Page B

the back of the stage. As John always had a good selection of drinks laid out for him, some of these would be consumed first as a bonus. Soundman Tony ‘Lips’ Rossi would be first in. The economic Rossi, also nicknamed The Love Criminal, over a period of three shows took the remnants of different bottles of John’s red wine to make up a full one. When quizzed as to why he had this re-corked and by now dubious winter 1980 vintage, he explained he was planning to woo the upper-class manageress of support act Straight Eight, a formidable fiery redhead. Some task for a streetwise Italian-American from Pennsylvania. Fully armed with the bottle of wine and a tiny amount of toot he had squirreled away, Rossi slipped over to The Park Hotel inBremen to undertake the grand seduction. It worked. They even got married! But not for long.
    Once the stage was almost clear and all my gear was safely away, I would dash out to the truck, which was already in position with the ramp attached, to start packing. I would run into the empty trailer with the driver, and together with a team of loaders stack and place the cases like a jigsaw. In some places in America the heavy house unions would only allow the crew to point and direct loading but not physically touch the equipment. I didn’t argue – but it did slow things up considerably.
    While loading out, one of the obstacles incurred was that of liggers: tenuously connected persons who attend rock shows – and are somehow always in the way! The cast of ‘ has-beens who never were ’ included all manner of poseurs, only interested in being seen backstage (preferably in the company of the band or celebrity visitors), enjoying free food and drink, invites to after-show parties and exclusive passes or souvenir handouts. Anything that made them look or feel important.
    Liggers adopted the attitude that the whole show has been put on solely for their amusement. Dirty roadie types? Uuugh! These self-important ‘luvvies’ and friends of friends never attended in Wurzburg, Newcastle or Omaha, Nebraska.
    At least they were never allowed on stage during a show. That was strictly for crew, and occasionally very close associates and wives or girlfriends were allowed to watch from the wings.
    â€˜Ratty, there’s a special guest here tonight. We’ve said he can watch the show from your side of the stage.’
    â€˜No way! These people just get in the way. They just don’t understand. I have so much to do during the show, and you know what Fred’s like. No way.’
    â€˜Sorry Ratty – we’ve already told him.’
    â€˜And I’ve told you! No way! That side of the stage has to be kept clear for me to work.’
    â€˜Ratty…’
    â€˜No, absolutely no way – do you hear me?’
    â€˜It’s Mick Jagger!’
    â€˜Oh, all right then. What would he like to drink…?’
    An Englishman’s home is his castle and an English roadie’s castle is the stage – his fortress and safe haven, secured during show time by Queen’s minders, a mixed bunch of wall-to-wall muscled Americans and likely lads from London’s East End: Big Paul, Big Doug, Tunbridge, Big Wally, Wally Gore, Big Terry, Big Black Vic – in fact, all the US-born minders were very BIG lads indeed. At one time in 1981, all three minders on tour were called Wally – the three Wallies! Minder Mad Jack, a scary martial arts expert, once saw a seedy-looking figure lurking beneath Fred’s piano and pounced to drag him out. That shadowy character was me. Jack didn’t last the tour.
    Another short-lived minder was a muscle-bound chap whose revealing photos were discovered in a gay magazine – and handed around the crew of course.
    The band party also included, at Fred’s request, a physiotherapist from Munich who had looked after Fred when he was recuperating from a knee-ligament injury, inflicted in 1984 during his