One summer between my college years I was working on a production of Cendrillon--opera version of Cinderella sung in French. The interior of Cinderella's house was done in massive modern art style and the centerpiece of the first act was an enormous hearth unit, 10' wide, 10' deep, and 12' tall. The fireplace itself was about 3' high and 5' wide, the ledge above it was 2' deep, and 4' above the platform in front, and the wall above the ledge was 7' high. The fairy godmother was preset behind the upper wall, a panel of which would be flown up (sliding in tracks built into the wall) and then slid closed after she stepped through in the midst of a bunch of moving light magic and orchestral fanfare. I was stationed behind that same wall so that I could immediately disconnect the lift lines from the wall panel in prep for the absolutely INSANE Act I -> Act II scene change, and also so I could be there "just in case" something went wrong.
Now a note about the fly system in this space: The counterweight system used Tiffin locks. If you've never seen, let alone used these before, be glad. The big claim to fame is that they have a lovely safety feature: a foot pedal that must be depressed to move a line, so that if something goes out of weight or something you can just step off the pedal and the line will lock. A good idea in theory but a PITA in practice because the lock mechanism has about 18 bajillion adjustment points, any one of which can make the pedal too hard to depress or too sensitive so that during a fast move if your weight shifts just a tad off of the pedal the lock engages, lurching the lineset to a stop and robbing it of that inertia you've built up.
Furthermore, and more relevant to this story the locks have JAWS that surround the rope with very little clearance, which makes them strong and secure, but also means that they eat tape spikes for lunch and can't accommodate a line stab.
So back to the story.
During one particular performance, I stood up and tucked myself out of view behind the wall to watch the panel fly up, while the fairy godmother prepared for her grand entrance, all as normal so far. The orchestra crescendoed, and the panel slid smoothly up. . .and right out of its tracks. The flyman had not checked his spikes during preshow, and his warning spike had been ripped right off of the line by the tape-hungry rope lock.
The singer, not noticing this, stepped through and began her aria as normal, and before I could finish thinking "OH %^#*@%!", the panel began to fly back in. The bottom right corner hit the top of the track, and the whole wall tipped forward, right above of the fairy godmother, to the collective gasp of the audience.
Let me tell you, hearing 700 people gasp in unison is a downright chilling sound.
As the flyman continued to haul in (the panel was light and it was a fast move, so I don't think he noticed the weight shift at first), the panel tipped further forward until I reached up and grabbed the bottom corner, yanking it upstage and free of the wall it had landed on. The right side dropped and was caught by its lift line making that distinctive clatter-wobble of cable and trim chain and the panel swung and clunked against the back of the fixed wall, finally coming to rest with a graceless *THUD*. Thankfully, no one had been hurt, the act finished uneventfully, and the scene change was its usual insane but effective chaos.
So what went wrong?
1) No hard stop had been installed on the wall that would prevent it from coming free of its tracks.
2) The flyman was relying on tape spikes where they had been proven to be unreliable.
3) The flyman had neglected to check the condition of his tape spikes during preshow.
4) The stage manager called the in cue as normal after the panel was pulled out of its tracks.
5) The flyman executed the in cue, when he should have known it was unsafe to do so.
The big lesson here is not only to take every necessary physical precaution (1,2, & 3), but also to be sure everyone involved knows what to do during any conceivable failure (4 & 5).
Now a note about the fly system in this space: The counterweight system used Tiffin locks. If you've never seen, let alone used these before, be glad. The big claim to fame is that they have a lovely safety feature: a foot pedal that must be depressed to move a line, so that if something goes out of weight or something you can just step off the pedal and the line will lock. A good idea in theory but a PITA in practice because the lock mechanism has about 18 bajillion adjustment points, any one of which can make the pedal too hard to depress or too sensitive so that during a fast move if your weight shifts just a tad off of the pedal the lock engages, lurching the lineset to a stop and robbing it of that inertia you've built up.
Furthermore, and more relevant to this story the locks have JAWS that surround the rope with very little clearance, which makes them strong and secure, but also means that they eat tape spikes for lunch and can't accommodate a line stab.
So back to the story.
During one particular performance, I stood up and tucked myself out of view behind the wall to watch the panel fly up, while the fairy godmother prepared for her grand entrance, all as normal so far. The orchestra crescendoed, and the panel slid smoothly up. . .and right out of its tracks. The flyman had not checked his spikes during preshow, and his warning spike had been ripped right off of the line by the tape-hungry rope lock.
The singer, not noticing this, stepped through and began her aria as normal, and before I could finish thinking "OH %^#*@%!", the panel began to fly back in. The bottom right corner hit the top of the track, and the whole wall tipped forward, right above of the fairy godmother, to the collective gasp of the audience.
Let me tell you, hearing 700 people gasp in unison is a downright chilling sound.
As the flyman continued to haul in (the panel was light and it was a fast move, so I don't think he noticed the weight shift at first), the panel tipped further forward until I reached up and grabbed the bottom corner, yanking it upstage and free of the wall it had landed on. The right side dropped and was caught by its lift line making that distinctive clatter-wobble of cable and trim chain and the panel swung and clunked against the back of the fixed wall, finally coming to rest with a graceless *THUD*. Thankfully, no one had been hurt, the act finished uneventfully, and the scene change was its usual insane but effective chaos.
So what went wrong?
1) No hard stop had been installed on the wall that would prevent it from coming free of its tracks.
2) The flyman was relying on tape spikes where they had been proven to be unreliable.
3) The flyman had neglected to check the condition of his tape spikes during preshow.
4) The stage manager called the in cue as normal after the panel was pulled out of its tracks.
5) The flyman executed the in cue, when he should have known it was unsafe to do so.
The big lesson here is not only to take every necessary physical precaution (1,2, & 3), but also to be sure everyone involved knows what to do during any conceivable failure (4 & 5).
