Dinky Dawson
In 1988, Mark Weiner, an attorney and friend I had known for years, called me about a new boy band that he thought I should check out.
“Dinky, you should take a look at Dick Scott’s new band. They’re rehearsing near Fenway Park. They’re going to be huge!” Mark was friends with Dick, former assistant to Motown’s legendary Barry Gordy, who ditched his retirement after he heard the group Maurice Starr and his brother, Michael Jonson, had put together in their Roxbury studio. So I made note of the band, figuring I would call John Messina to drop in on a rehearsal. And then I didn’t do anything for a few months until they were added to a bill at the Channel, where I was production manager and sound engineer. That band was New Kids on the Block.
Why does an old school roadie/soundman sign on to work with a teeny-bopper boy band? Well, I figured it was time for me to see what was happening on the new scene. Actually, my first introduction to NKOTB was via a memo from Warren Scott, the Channel’s main booking agent.
“Dinky,” the note read, “A new band’s opening for Miles Jay and Melissa Morgan on Wednesday, March 30, 1988, doing only three songs. No more than three songs; make sure they’re off the stage in time.”
As it turns out, that gig never happened for them due to technical problems. However, a few months later, on May 1st, NKOTB opened for headliners E.U. with Elroy Smith MC and Anastasia DJ. At the time, most of the Channel shows featured punk, alt-rock, metal, and reggae/world music bands. To me, this show was different from any other Channel show at that time, reminding me of the “book shows” I had worked with at the South Shore Music Circus. All the sound and lighting cues came from a playbook chock full of EQ, compression, and volume settings designed in the studio by their producer, Starr. Using studio recordings as a reference, the backbone of the early NKOTB performances was a one-inch, 16-track recording machine with the band playing to a click track as the Kids sang and made their extraordinary dance moves. As the Kids tired from their strenuous routines, the house engineer would cue in the machine tracks. This created a very exciting, visual production for a screaming, adoring audience that loved the consistent musical renditions of the songs every night.
So I signed on, and it wasn’t long before rehearsals began. Realizing that I needed help with the production and 
anticipating that the group would really hit the big time, I enlisted Timmy Miller, one of the Channel sound guys, to help me with audio production. It turned out to be a serendipitous move. Just as NKOTB broke out nationally, I had a serious car accident. So Timmy became the FOH engineer, quickly adjusting to the timing and required cues, as well as to the personal needs of the rapidly rising boy band.
The NKOTB Hangin’ Tough tour quickly transformed the local Boston band into a national, in-your-face, full-blown pop sensation. Shows moved from auditoriums to arenas and then stadiums. Everywhere you looked, there were young girls and their mothers looking for autographs, photo ops, and anything else that was NKOTB related. At their shows, concessions made more money than ticket sales. Once they became idols, girls would stalk them, hiding in hotel lobbies for hours until they showed up. Mothers would try to bribe security and road crews with everything from money to sex for a close glimpse of the boys. On the whole, security was great, getting pre-signed promo photos to give out to the adoring fans. Even the boys’ mothers were enlisted to help with publicity at shopping malls and meet-and-greets.
As they became international idols, two teenage girls from Japan flew over to follow them from venue to venue, hanging out outside hotels and stage doors. We saw them so frequently that security and road crews became protective, concerned about their safety. In Long Island, it became apparent that the girls were running of cash, trying to sleep in hotel lobbies or outside of gigs. When the Kids found out, they got them a hotel room, had them call their parents, and then got tickets back to Japan for both of them.
Despite all their fame, my daughter, who was in high school at the time, wasn’t too impressed. Meeting Donnie Wahlberg for the first time outside of Disneyland, she looked at him and noted the NY Yankees cap tilted on his head. “Nice hat,” she said sarcastically. “And you say you guys come from Boston?” Donnie smiled sheepishly. The next time she saw him, he was wearing a Celtics jersey, which he eagerly showed her from the stage.
During one leg of the stadium tour, the Kids bought motorized scooters to dash around the venues, often crashing into walls and rails. Somehow, one scooter was taken into a hotel, and after admonishing the culprits who were buzzing around the posh hotel’s halls, security flushed the fuel down a toilet. We learned a few hours later that a few floors down someone dropped a cigarette into a toilet. Ka-Boom!
When the Kids played Sullivan Stadium, the then-home of the New England Patriots, I was deluged with requests for tickets. Many came from South Boston’s Irish community, as the Channel was located on the edge of Southie. Soon, local cops from Dorchester, where some of the Kids lived, were also making requests. The NKOTB management was happy to provide them with tickets for 25 families, and at the gig, children and their chaperones had a great time as they screamed out their favorite songs to their favorite NKOTB.
To cap a successful tour, the Kids played Madison Square Garden on November 23, 1989, preceded by a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner, hosted by Dick at the Parker Meridian Hotel, to thank everyone for an incredible year. Unfortunately, I was in a lot of pain—it felt like a kidney stone, but I had a show to mix. Shortly after dinner, as soon as I arrived at the Garden doubled over with pain, I looked for the nearest lavatory near the Knicks locker room. After what seemed to be a long time, I passed a large stone and immediately felt better. Relieved of the constant pain, I put the stone in a small bindle and went to see the band.
“Hey, Donnie,” I greeted the Kid. “I have some great shit in this bindle, but it needs some bad chopping.” Looking a little puzzled, Donnie watched me open the small bindle, disclosing the jagged crystal inside.
“Check it out,” I smiled. “This comes from a lot of years of rock ‘n’ roll!” Realizing it was a kidney stone, Donnie fell on the floor, laughing hysterically. “You okay, man?” he asked. We both had a great laugh before the show.
At the time, and even now, most critics overlook what the New Kids brought to the music industry. They had all the trimmings that come with pop stardom—screaming girls, constant fanzine coverage, ridiculous entourages. Nonetheless, their backbone was created by African Americans, who used a proven formula to bridge cultures through music and entertainment. Maurice Starr and Dick Scott brought the right kind of beats to the young pop band, mixing the ethnicity of Roxbury with Southie’s and Dorchester’s white culture. I tip my hat to those lads after all these year!
No comments:
Post a Comment