The Roof Top Gig
It was the 4th of July, and I was booked with a 12-piece band, The Natural Gas Co., to play on the roof of the old brick Yamhill-Market building downtown. This was before everyone had cell phones.
The load-in instructions involved an interior loading dock off an active street and a freight elevator used by a busy restaurant. Load-in wasn’t to be before 5:00 PM. I arrived few minutes early and the sound guy was already parked in the one-car space in the loading dock, so I double-parked, put my flashers on, and quickly loaded half my drum set past the dumpsters, up the greasy stairs and into the freight elevator. It was a hot July and there was no air moving and the place stunk of rotting food. When the oversized elevator arrived, I slid my gear into it, closed both the large double doors and hit the up button. The shaft was somewhat sealed and all I could think about was getting to the top to get away from that smell. Two and a half floors later, the elevator stopped. It was 5:00 PM, a Sunday, and a holiday, and it was on a timer that shut it down for security reasons; of course, I didn’t know that at the time.
Puzzled, I waited for a minute to see if the power would come back on. Then I realized the one bulb in it was lit, so it wasn’t a power outage. Then it hit me, I was stuck in this thing, in a nearly empty building. There was a button for emergencies, I pushed it. Two feet above the button was a 12” brass-alloy bell that would make Avedis Zildjian proud. I was instantly deaf. Getting someone’s attention in this nearly empty building would require ringing that bell, though, so I tried blocking both ears with one arm over my head and the other to push the bell; it was better than nothing, but that bell was amazingly loud.
Twenty minutes later, someone actually noticed the bell and went to find someone who knew who to call to rescue me. I was sweating pretty good at this point, and wondering how long until I could get some water. The elevator shaft had to be in the low 90s, and it was humid with no moving air. Also, I wondered if my car would be towed, to where, and how I could borrow half a drum set, if it had been, and in time for the gig.
It took another 30 minutes for the building manager to have someone drive him back downtown (he was already celebrating), to unlock the timer and turn the lift back on. When I got to the top, the entire band was set up already, the bandleader was pacing, and I smelled like I had slept in the street behind a dumpster all day.
Fortunately, when I got back down, my car was still there, and after a couple of loops, I found a parking space for it, hand-carried the rest of the kit two blocks to the gig, and was set up with a minute to spare. Over the years, I’ve played on that rooftop a few other times, but I’ve refused to use the freight elevator.