BENNY & LARRY (LARRY)

LARRY KASPER

In a way, Larry would belong to the second tier, except he came into the stagehand in round about way, via a mop and bucket he wielded in the Corral Bar across the street from Gopher Stage Lighting. He became a valuable gofer for the company, available, not asking for a big salary, not expecting to be paid when he wasn’t working, and not expecting to get stagehand jobs out of it.

And Joey B, half owner in Gopher, was responsible for getting Larry as a gofer. And as when the St. Paul local asked the Minneapolis local if there was anyone in the local that would work in St. Paul when they got busy, Joey brought up Larry’s name, on the condition that if Joey was working there at the same time as Larry, or as Joey referred to Larry, Mule Head, they wouldn’t be on the same crew. The reason was simple.

There was a right way.

A wrong way.

And Larry’s way.

To do things

And Larry would stand and argue and argue until things were done his way. Not that his way didn’t work, it was just such a round about way to do things. And often took so much longer than doing it the right way.

Take the scaffold tower load out during Prince’s Purple Rain set- up, tear- down, and on and on for six weeks in different venues in the Twin Cities. We had to set up and take down a scaffold tower to see if it would be feasible for the tour. It wasn’t. Send it back to LA. By then, my crew and I were going on 30 hours without a break, except for eating in spit shifts before when we finished the game with the darn tower. Then we had to get it ready to be loaded on the flat bed truck.

Larry was the fork driver. The flatbed driver told him how he wanted everything loaded. Larry argued and told him how he wanted to load it. Now, as we watched this drama unfold, it was plain to us that either way would be okay.

(Just load the goddamn rig

so we can go in the hallway and lay down on some

packing blankets.)

Larry got the driver mad and it became a ridiculous argument between two mule heads. It went on for almost an hour before the driver caved and told Larry to go ahead, just load it so he could strap it and get on the road for LA. Task finally completed. and just as the driver was about to climb into the truck, the work lights went out, the stage lights came on, and the music began. Prince’s rehearsal had begun. Larry took off to the catering room

The driver swore up a storm. He asked us how long before the rehearsal stopped so he could get the big door open and drive out of the building. He swore up a storm when we shrugged our shoulders and suggested coming back in the morning. ‘Well, I can get out, can’t I? I got to see if I can get my motel room back for another night and call LA to tell them I’ll be little late… 24 hours late.’ He looked around. I don’t see that SOB now. I suppose he someplace laughing about the trouble he caused me.’

‘No. He’s up eating. He didn’t cause this delay to get you mad. It’s just his bullheaded nature. That why we call him Mule Head.’

‘Mule Head!’ the driver shouted. ‘No! A big horse’s ass.’

Larry was also very surly to most people, especially the young St. Paul stagehands. He liked to tease them.

(‘Run and get me a hammerfor. What’s a hammerfor? Well, most people use it to drive nails.’)(‘Run and ask Paul to borrow his left handed monkey wrench’)

He never picked on any of my sons or nephews though. I don’t know if it was because he liked their work ethic or because they were my family. Or both.

His family, aka wives, was as convoluted as Benny Miller’s ozone machine. There was six marriages but one was to a previous spouse. That double blest spouse was a medical doctor… And a very attractive woman. Nobody ever figured that union out.

During one of the marriage spans, they had a son. Or maybe they had a son and then got married or remarried.

Once, when the lad was about sixteen or seventeen, Larry brought the son on a call to show him how his dad made a living. And to show off his son to us. Nice kid, polite, easy to talk to, interested in what we were doing. Someone suggested that he should put his name on the hiring list and get some good paydays to help pay his way to college. Larry found out and we never saw his son again.

It was either the fourth or fifth wedding that Larry invited his favorite stagehands to attend. Not the ceremony, but the reception afterwards. Free food and drink and dancing. It was held on the top floor of a building by the bus depot. There was a good turnout.

And as you approached the stairs going up to the shindig, there was a big sign.

It basically said: the bride-to-be called off the wedding but the party was still going on as planned. If you are bring wrapped gifts put them on the big table and take them back home when the party is over. If you planned to give a gift of money, put it in your billfold or perhaps your wife’s purse. It gave no reason why the wedding had been called off, but ten to one, it had something to do Mule Head wanting his way.

(Bill K liked the way the gifts were handled. Bill had three weddings and the first two involved gifts. The first was shortly before he was sent off to fight in Korea. His ‘dear john’ was in the form of a divorce and a note saying ‘Sorry’. When asked about the wedding gifts, Bill said he never gave them a thought. She kept them all. Must have thought the honeymoon was gift enough.

His second marriage was a few days before pheasant hunting opened in South Dakota. He tried to explain to his new bride that he had to go because he always went. He got back to a divorce citation. His mother said the bride sold all the wedding gifts to her, and offered to give Bill any of them back that Bill might want. He only took a decorative beer stein and an electric blanket. The bride kept all the gifts of money.

His third marriage was a winner and lasted until his wonderful wife died of cancer.)

Larry thanked me for turning him on to AA meetings. Not that Larry ever abused liquor. Just the opposite. Larry would nurse a drink of VO and water while the other stage hands went through three rounds of beer and shots.

(Bill K loved to ask if you knew why Larry only drank VO whiskey. Because it was the only whiskey Larry could spell.)

I had told Larry about the poker games that the AA held after the Saturday meetings. My dad had been one of the instigators in setting up the games. Larry became a regular. Never gave up his VO but chewed gum to hide any whiskey breath. He no longer took any stagehand calls that would interfere with his poker games. Dad said Larry never talked much at the games and was a better than average player.

Larry’s win or losing at the games had no influence on his stagehand work. He was still a surly Mule Head on the job.

Then one day the call steward couldn’t reach Larry. His phone had been disconnected and his apartment vacated.

It was several years later I discovered that Larry was a full time poker player in Laughin. Nevada. I ran into him by accident at the Edgewater Casino just as he was about to enter the poker room. He conversed a short time with me as if he had never upped and left. Couldn’t figure out why anyone back in the Twin Cities missed him. Because from his point of view, he didn’t miss any of us. He said he lived in Bullhead City across the Colorado River. Didn’t invite me to visit him and as much as told me if I was going to play poker do it someplace else. He was just as surly as I remembered and I bet just as bull headed.

Most of the stagehands were glad he left town, but not me. He always seemed to give me something to amuse me.

And so ends

Benny & Larry saga

a couple of unforgettable

stage hands