The nickname I was known as (at least by some) when I was working off-Broadway in the late '70s and early eighties was Boomer. I came late to the CB party and Boomer was already taken so my username is my real name (well, there IS a space missing...)
So. Boomer...:
In the '70s there was an outfit in NYC called Technical Assistance Group (TAG.) Twice a year they'd rent the Entermedia
Theatre for what was known as the Dance Umbrella. Week one was put-in, week two was the
headliner group (the first time I worked it it was Louis Falco) and weeks 3 through 6 we had 2 companies in rotating rep each week (eight performances) and a 'breakout' person or company on Saturday mornings. We did this all with one basic
plot plus specials. Needless to say, sleep was for sissies - but as a newbie in the Big Apple I didn't care. I was pretty broke and happy to have a 6-week gig.
Lighting control was two 2-scene presets with 36 dimmers each. That was
stage left.
Stage right was an old, ugly, dilapidated
road board. It was probably auto-transformers, had metal sides, and was basically used as a
flat surfaced storage area for paperwork, a large cardboard box with various rolls of tape, coffee, and donuts. Everyone figured it was long dead and we pretty much ignored it. The fly
rail was also
stage right - tee
track with lots of
pig iron stage weights.
We were in rehearsal one afternoon. The May O'Donnell Dance Company was onstage and Ms. O'Donnell was having trouble concentrating. (She was a
bit rickety, very cranky, and her hearing aids were turned up to just-under-squeal.)
Did I mention I had a really great flashlight? It took 3 or 4 C or D batteries. It was really bright, had a
clear lens with a nice red
lens shield, an all metal body, and a strong magnet built into the on/off
switch.
At any rate, I was tasked with getting some
glow-tape and marking the edges of the pile of
stage weights that were sticking out by the upstage
crossover so none of the dancers would stub their toes.
Well, I turned on the flashlight, went over to the
road board, and stuck it to some random place so I could dig around in the box of tape. There was a very loud
boom followed by some banging as the flashlight hit the tee-track. Ms. O'Donnell screamed as she pulled out her hearing aids. My world temporarily halted as all eyes turned to me. I found the flashlight amongst the
stage weights, sheepishly walked onstage, and gave a meager thumbs-up with one
hand and held up my flashlight with the other. Is was slightly bent and had a 1/4" hole towards the back.
Thankfully, no one was hurt, and as her assistant helped Ms. McDonnell put in her hearing aids, the sound man (who was up in the balcony) yelled out "Does it still work?" Everyone laughed at the absurdity of the thought. But, to my utter amazement, it did! From then on, amongst many in the sub-community of off-Broadway electricians, I was known as Boomer.
That flashlight served me well for several more years until someone decided it should get run over by a truck. But that's another story.