Last time I wrote about my two families. A few of you asked the obvious follow-up... how do you end up with a crew like that? It doesn't happen by accident.
Here's how I think about it. A touring team is a pit crew, not a bunch of skilled mechanics. Talent gets you hired. Knowing exactly where the other guy's hands will be is what wins the race.
So when I put a team together, I'm looking at more than the resumé. I'm looking at people, culture, and systems.
The People
I need department heads who solve problems, not report them. If something breaks, I don't need a narrator. I need the person who already has a hand on it.
I need a tour manager I'm in lockstep with. If the TM and I aren't on the same page, the crew finds the gap and lives in it.
I need a strong production coordinator and production assistant layer. They catch the hundred small things... catering counts, runners, dressing rooms, credentials... that otherwise land on me.
And I need a head rigger with veto power. Safety calls get made once, without debate.
The Culture
Ego gets checked at the loading dock. One toxic crew member can sink a department faster than bad gear.
Fixing problems beats explaining them. "Here's what happened and here's what I did" is the only acceptable status report.
One Person, One Whole Department
On a tour years ago, we had one member of a department who just couldn't see the big picture. It didn't matter how often somebody pointed out that what they were doing was going to run over into every other department. It kept happening.
Eventually the other departments quit allowing it. Nobody would let that department's gear or cabling mix in with their own. That meant the whole department... every one of them, because of one person, got pushed onto the long way around. Less desirable gear paths. Longer cable runs. All so the rest of us weren't working around their stuff all day or untangling it at load out.
Here's the part I like. They figured it out. Their own team put in the work to get that person in shape, so the department could go back to working normally and stop running cable the long way.
Nobody got sent home. Their team fixed it. That's a crew that travels well.
The Systems
Good people still need a structure to work in.
One source of truth. Day sheets, advance info, and schedules come from one place. If people are working from three versions of the truth, something gets missed.
The advance is done before the trucks roll. Show day is for executing, not discovering.
A clear chain of command, posted and enforced. Everyone knows who they answer to and who answers to them.
Defined downtime. Burnout is the real tour killer. Days off and rest have to be protected. They can't be treated as optional.
The 45-Foot Tube
Then there's the part that has nothing to do with the gig.
We're usually 8 to 12 people living in a 45-foot tube. That's not much space for that many folks. Respecting everybody else's space comes before anything. Keep your things collected and clean. There's a lot of eating and drinking together too, so you learn to be aware of your own habits and be courteous about them.
Traveling badly is easy to spot. Leaving your things laying around the lounges or the bunkhouse. Not cleaning up after yourself. Being loud in the bunks. Letting doors slam. Talking loudly on your phone. Eating or drinking something you know you didn't bring and you know wasn't bus stock.
We used to say, "Don't waste your time putting your name on anything in the fridge or cabinets. No one is going to thank you for it anyway."
It's funny because it's true. But you can be the best tech in the business, and if nobody wants to share a bus with you, you won't be out here long.
The Local Crew
There's one more must-have, and it's a big one for me.
Treat the stagehands well and every load-in goes faster. Burn them and it doesn't matter how good your touring crew is. You're going to have a long day.
What I tell my people is simple. Treat the locals like they are part of our crew. No different than the people you share a bus with.
Because every show day, the pit crew gets bigger. We walk in and add a room full of people we met that morning... and by load out, they need to know where our hands are going to be too.
That starts in the first ten minutes of load-in... and that's the next post.