Concert Security Means Work is the Pits

On a stage inches away, a legendary rock singer gyrates his Spandex-covered crotch. Pyrotechnics explode nearby. And just over the barrier, women are flashing their breasts.

For security workers at a rock concert, it's just another shift in the pit.

About 20 times during the spring and summer months, workers at Bieber & Associates head to the Montage Mountain Performing Arts Center to keep concerts featuring the likes of the Backstreet Boys and Bryan Adams running smoothly and safely.

Prior to the start of the recent Aerosmith concert, company owner George Bieber was armed with a clipboard and paperwork, organizing things backstage. Bieber attends to the major administrative responsibilities, while security supervisor John Willmot deals with hands-on security issues.

Veteran guards can predict the type of crowd by the artist featured at each show and Willmot expected an audience full of "rockers" for Aerosmith's show.

"They're not the Metallica crowd, but they're not George Strait either." Willmot noted. "I took 20 (security) people down to work a Metallica show at the Meadowlands, and it was a baptism by fire for most of them."

"During the Rod Stewart show, I could have taken a nap up front," laughed guard Joe Geda of Moosic Lake. "Nobody will be napping in front tonight."

Employees, with red "security" shirts stretched over their (for the most part) beefy frames strapped on headsets, grabbed two-way radios and waded through throngs of screaming fans.

Before the show, guards gather at "security central," the hub of activity that surrounds a sign-in desk where they find out which area of the stadium they'll be working that night.

The bravest (or craziest) among the crew work the front lines, otherwise known as "the pit." This cramped dark area, only a few feet wide, spans the length of the front stage.

Longing fans are kept out of the pit by a wooden barricade about 4 feet high, although the guards occasionally have to intercept a wayward fan who hurtles over the wall.

The pit is as close as admirers can get to their idols without actually being on stage.

So, for the rest of the night, this corps of security guards is all that stands between longing fans and Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler.

But even before any music starts, the guards are ready for work. Mary Komensky of Old Forge was working at the gates, ready to pat down spectators for prohibited items.

"I see them first. Regulations are the first complaint. People have to realize that bands set the rules, aside from the stadium's rules of no drugs, alcohol or weapons."

Here, ardent fans, some of whom have waited in line for hours, grow restless and impatient waiting for the gates to open.

"That's the first hurdle, getting everybody in safely," Willmot said. "As soon as we open the gates, they all want to rush in."

Although Komensky is petite, it's clear she can be forceful when she wants to be. "Brute isn't always a necessary force," she said. "We use politeness first. But I'm here to enforce the rules, and that's what I'll do."

Once the concert starts, the security in the pit get hit with the lines.

"Everybody's got a line," said Willmot.

As in: The singer's uncle is my mechanic.

Or: I left my backstage pass in my other jacket.

"We've heard them all," Willmot said. "Some are good. None work."

And for female fans, lifting your shirt won't work either, although nearby male concertgoers probably won't complain. Female groupies often resort to stripping (sometimes with a coy promise of something more) to try and sway security guards to permit them into restricted areas.

Despite boasting its share of action, Willmot said Montage is actually an enviable workplace for security people.

"We have management people, college kids, everybody," Willmot said. " It's a fun job for all of us."

Dressed head to toe in black Willmot has a unique shirt in recognition of his status the supervisor almost looks like he could be a member of one of the bands.

However, he's more like a director running back and forth from the security desk to the backstage production areas, relaying instructions over his headset as he goes.

It's Willmot's job to know every details and then pass the necessary information on to his staff. On this particular night, he reminds them that no laser pointers are allowed (they distract the band) and gives them a quick briefing on the various types of event passes (backstage, meet-and-greet, VIP).

Then he's off to handle a minor crisis near the parking area apparently someone is blocking access to one of the band's buses.

The show ultimately goes off with no major problems, but Willmot's job isn't quite finished when the music stops.

He still has to contend with fans who hang around after the show trying to get a glimpse of the band.

"You're cutting into my drinking time. I hope you realize that," he says, only half-jokingly to an over-zealous blond woman who has already exposed her breasts to countless guards, crew members and anybody else within flashing range.

But soon, the band is on the bus, the blonds have reluctantly gone home and the security staff can trade war stories.

Until the next show…

SideBar:

Steven Tyler gives new meaning to the term "family harmony"

Steven Tyler is content. Oh sure, the massage the rock star (now clad in a purple bathrobe) just received didn't hurt. But Tyler's source of joy is bigger than body rubs. Tyler was happy to be back prancing (okay, "prancing" in a way that looked like wobbling in style) on stage again. Back in his element, along with his three partners in crime.

Nicknamed the "Nine Lives Tour," the (not so funny) joke was whether the various members of Aerosmith would live through this concert junket.

Their appearance on stage earlier this evening was their first in months. Originally scheduled for this summer, the concert had to be postponed after a string of unfortunate accidents plague the band. First, drummer Joey Kramer suffered serious burns after a freak fire broke out while he was filling his car's gas tank at a service station. Then, Tyler tore his knee out while becoming a little too animated with his mike stand while belting out "Mama Kin." The result: tour-halting knee surgery, leaving him with the souvenir leg brace he sported on stage tonight.

"Most people don't get up on their feet till six, seven months later, but I took an aggressive stand. We had a number one record, so the last thing I wanted to say was, "Whoops, I'm going home.' So I put my brace on, and I went for it."

Though Tom Hamilton and Joe Perry have managed to avoid such dramatic injuries so far, the entire group did face a "nasty bout with the flu" recently.

Still, Tyler says he and his bandmates couldn't wait to get back onstage. For a group that's been performing for decades, the stage has a homey, familiar feeling. Speaking of home, Tyler says it's important for him to be an active father, despite his busy career.

He and daughter Liv worked together on the blockbuster hit "Armageddon," and he can often be spotted in the front row of daughter Mia's modeling shows.

Still, he regrets not being around more for his older daughters when they were growing up, and is proud to play a bigger role in the lives of his younger kids, Taj and Chelsea even though the youngsters aren't overly impressed by their dad's fame.

"Your kids never think of you as a 'rock god.' If you want a lesson in humility, have kids. You get home, and they put you right in your place. 'Daddy, you're an idiot.' Or. "Stop embarrassing me, Dad.' It's pretty funny."

The Tyler kids seemed to have inherited the musical gene, according to their proud papa.

"I sing so much around the house, they can't help but pick it up. My son, Taj, is singing up a storm now, and Chelsea plays the drums and the guitar and the harmonica. If you sing around kids, it'll become second nature. Like, my father was a Julliard classical pianist. Growing up in the house with him playing so much, I couldn't help but get his classical feelings."

And, on that note, Tyler closes the interview, trotting off to his awaiting limo. Ah, such is the life of a 50-ish father of four. To think, most dads have to settle for a Lazy-Boy and the TV remote.