Happy New Year from in the Wings!

As I wrote the above sentence I realized, rarely do I or most other managers do the majority of their work "in the wings." For the lay person who may be reading this, the wings are the spaces both left and right of the stage beyond the view of the audience. When a manager is also involved in the creative process of their acts, as I am, they will typically be on site during any and all performances.

Recently, when Bill was at the Suncoast Hotel and Casino the end of November, I spent the majority of my time working with the amazing technical crew, either "in the wings" or up in the light booth. More often, when you have an ongoing show, night after night, you'll spend much of the show time either in the house (audience) or in your office and NOT in the wings.

"Yeah, so what Jeanne, who cares!" I simply want to share the connection a creative manager feels with their act during any given show regardless of where they are physically working. It's the special gratification that one feels that, at least for me, keeps me in the business. When Bill gets a standing ovation, I couldn't feel it any stronger if I were on the stage. When his throat is dry, I find myself clearing mine. The connection is overwhelming. And it gets really scary when…

One night while Bill was doing his "12 Days of Christmas" at the Luxor, I was up in my office doing payroll and the intercom was on, of course allowing me to hear the show live. There was a long pause in Bill's monologue and my heart started to pound. Something was terribly wrong. As I started up the stairs to the office I heard Bill says, "Bring up the house lights, bring them up!" For those of you who know Bill, he is a typically calm, even-tempered personality and there was a panic in his voice. By the time I had arrived In the Wings, the stage hand had already called security who called 911. Bill heard some commotion in the audience but because he couldn't quite make out what it was, he needed the house lights on to help. There was a gentleman in the fifth row having a heart attack.

About 20 minutes later, paramedics had the guy on the way to the hospital. The entire audience, cast and crew were all a bit shaken and we had a second show that night as always on a Tuesday. I made an executive decision to cancel the rest of the first show, happily refund or re-ticket clients for the second show. To our amazement, most of the audience came back to the second show and responded with such grace and appreciation to Bill Acosta and the age old adage, "The show must go on!" To this date, we've yet to have such an appreciative caring audience. The feeling and experience was a once in a lifetime event.

Yes, the man lived! Of course, we were all so very relieved. I'm sure I don't have to tell you the amount of comments that were flying once we knew he was OK. "Bill, you're 12 Days, killed him!" "He died laughing." And on and on and thank God this story has a happy ending. Until next time, whatever your job is, be passionate about it and feel a connection. It makes work worthwhile whether you're at a desk or in the wings.