GREENSBORO — Pete Schroth
takes a break from cleaning the gutters on his Greensboro home to munch
on rosemary french fries at one of his favorite local restaurants,
Sticks and Stones.
Between bites, Schroth recounts his
journey from his days of booking the Avett Brothers to traveling the
world the past two years as the now internationally known band’s stage
manager and lighting designer.
The journey began in 2004 at Schroth’s former coffee shop, the Green Bean, in Greensboro.
A
few regular customers persuaded him to book the Avett Brothers. (Now,
the band includes brothers Scott and Seth Avett, Bob Crawford on bass
and Joe Kwon on cello.)
Schroth was hesitant to feature a
band he had never before heard, but he took a chance and, for the first
time in Green Bean history, sold tickets to the show.
The cost? Two dollars. Now, a ticket to an Avett Brothers’ concert can cost $25 to $38.
That night, the band played to a sell-out crowd of 99.
“The
night of the show a gentleman walked up to me and said, 'Is this your
place?’ ” Schroth recalls. “I said, 'Yes sir,’ to which he answered,
'Well, my boys are about to blow the doors off of it.’ “
That
was Schroth’s first chat with Jim Avett, Scott and Seth’s father. Years
later, it was Jim Avett who took Schroth to the airport to meet the
band in Phoenix for his first gig as its stage manager.
“I
was pretty excited to see what was about to happen,” Schroth recalls.
“It was a crazy, insane, high-energy gig, but I missed most of it,
working behind the counter serving up coffees and PBRs. It was a great
night and most absolutely one of my favorite shows I have never seen.”
Decide what to be and go be it
Schroth
went on to book the Avett Brothers in 2006 at his former music venue,
the Flying Anvil in Greensboro, as well as twice at Greensboro’s War
Memorial Auditorium in 2007 and 2008. Along the way, seeds of a desire
to work for the Avett Brothers were planted in him, although he never
really expected anything to come his way.
His business
venture with the Flying Anvil lasted only eight or nine months before it
closed. Schroth says it was a terrible blow to his confidence. He
retreated to the country with his wife, Anne, and their children. He
bought some goats and tried to sort things out. He worked briefly at a
veterinarian’s office and as a handyman at Greensboro Montessori School.
Then one day, a phone call from Scott Avett changed the course of Schroth’s life. Avett wanted to offer him a job.
“I
was caught off guard,” Schroth says. “I had a lot of questions, but
Scott was incredibly gracious and patient. I couldn’t just blindly pack
my bags and hop on a bus, leaving my family behind. My family is my
life, and I had to be sure it was the right thing to do.”
As
Schroth contemplated accepting the job, he visualized an image of a
wagon belonging to him and his family and hooking it up to an Avett
wagon train. With the Green Bean sold and the Flying Anvil closed,
Schroth visualized his family sitting high on a hill in an old,
weathered covered wagon.
“I imagined we suddenly could
see a wagon train down in the valley below, and there’s lots of music
and good times and a chance for a better future. I’d be a damn fool not
to head down there and join up.
“So, I took my covered
wagon, full of my family and my things, and headed down into that
valley. That was that. Our wagons are still hitched.”
Road full of promise
A
typical day before an Avett Brothers’ concert starts about 11 a.m.,
unloading the trailer and setting up the stage. Schroth’s wife, Anne,
prints and sews the stage backdrops through her company, Red Canary.
By
3 p.m., the band does a sound check for 30 minutes or two hours,
depending on the venue. Doors usually open about 7 p.m., and the band
and crew gather for a quick huddle before Schroth runs to his task as
lighting designer.
The show ends usually about 11 p.m. or
midnight. Then another two hours are needed to break down the gear
before they are back on the bus, physically exhausted but mentally
exhilarated and ready for their next destination.
Schroth
compares the tour bus to a submarine with a hall of beds that is dark
and quiet. There are 12 bunk beds stacked three high. There’s also a
front room, kitchen, dining room and bathroom. Although privacy is
almost nonexistent, people may use a smaller room toward the back of the
bus to get away and maybe read a book or send a few emails.
The
Avett Brothers average about 90 to 100 shows per year. Schroth is on
the road five to 10 days at a time, although the recent Europe and
Australia tour lasted the longest at six weeks.
On
Saturday, Schroth will be back on his home turf when the Avett Brothers
perform to a sell-out crowd at the White Oak Amphitheatre in Greensboro.
Being
on the road can take its toll. There is homesickness, long hours and
tight quarters. But there’s also good music, great people and priceless
moments.
The following are email excerpts Schroth sent from the road during that recent tour.
June 23
So,
here we are in London, and I have thought of another oddity of being on
the road. We travel in a pack of nine guys, sometimes 10. We are always
together and almost always in tight spaces. On the bus, dressing rooms,
hotel rooms. Our world becomes very surreal. Then suddenly we are
surrounded by a big crowd of people for a few hours and then poof … we
are back on the bus to the next city. We go from small and solitary to
largely public very quickly.
Aug. 17
I
have always been a visual artist. I cannot play a single instrument. I
can whistle pretty good, but music eludes me. I watch these guys as they
stand face to face and work out a brand-new song, a chord progression
or even a good old-time number. The silent communication between the
whole band is what leaves me dumbfounded time and time again. Then,
suddenly, they are up on stage in front of hundreds of people playing a
Bruce Springsteen cover, and the crowd is going crazy.
Last
night in Munich, Germany, was one of those shows that made the hair on
my arms stand up. Every now and again, the band and their audience
become one big mass of energy. There is no separation. Each group feeds
off of the other, and each group feeds the other. There is an equal
exchange of energy, and something truly magical happens, something
spiritual.
Cave men made music. It is one of our
oldest traditions. It draws up together and makes us one. Take it all
away and we can still whistle a tune.
Aug. 23
So,
here I sit in a hotel room in Amsterdam. My oldest boy back home just
went to karate practice, wifey is gearing up for the boys to return to
school, and the young one has lost both his front teeth. It is hard to
be away from home. The adrenaline of a show, the smiling faces, the
crowd … it is all a trade-off. We depend oh so very much on the crowd to
lift us up. We arrive exhausted, but once show time rolls around, the
juices start flowing, then it’s on. The energy sparks. Tomorrow night we
will all be refreshed and ready to rock out.
August 29
Looking
back on all the experiences of the last three weeks touring through
Europe. Truly incredible. Great energy. I think the best show for me may
have been to a small Danish crowd of retirees that were somewhat
trapped in a tent due to a major rain storm. I don’t know if any of them
had ever heard a single Avett song, but they had a blast, and so did
we. Good times.
I’m coming home ...
Back
in Greensboro, Schroth never unpacks his toiletry bag but completely
shifts gears into family life. Mundane tasks such as cleaning gutters or
giving the cat medicine are welcome rituals. He says thoughts of his
wife, kids and friends are what keeps him moving on the road.
“Throwing
a baseball with the kids, having a glass of wine on the front porch
with friends while the cicadas hum, all these things are mine,” Schroth
says. “If all of this falls apart tomorrow, I know for certain that my
wife and my kids and my friends will be there for me. I want to keep
that whole.”
Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com
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