Crowds, Cops And Rock 'N' Roll -- Are Today's Concerts Safe? The Answer Depends On A Mix Of Preparation, Psychology And Good Will

Since the birth of the big rock event, promoters, organizers and fans have had more than a few lessons to learn about concert security.

Some shows are legendary for their infamy: At California's Altamont Speedway in December 1969, one fan was killed by Hell's Angels who were hired as security for a Rolling Stones concert. A decade later, 11 people were trampled to death while trying to get into a Who concert in Ohio. And three months ago in Rome, N.Y., there was Woodstock '99, for which organizers tried to resurrect the love-and-peace mythology, only to have three days of music end with a fiery riot, hundreds treated for injuries and no less than five allegations of rape.

But of the thousands of music events that are organized each year, only a handful of the most incendiary make their way into the public consciousness. Promoters have used past mistakes to forge guidelines for avoiding massive disruptions.

"Obviously, you can't plan for 20,000 people having a problem all at once, but you are prepared for that contingency," says Universal Concerts' Bill Parsons, general manager of the Gorge Amphitheater and industry veteran. "It's been 30 or 40 years now that we've done these concerts, and that turning of 20,000 at once - nothing's happened. Should it happen, we are preparing for it all the time."

There still may be more to do. "The industry has the resources and the talent to make concerts safer than they are today," says Paul Wertheimer, a watchdog of rock concert security. "(Organizers) present it to the public as if it's an arena that they can't control." He is president of Crowd Management Strategies, a Chicago-based consultation firm that tracks concert-related injuries and fatalities in its Annual Rock Concert Safety Survey.

"Every time a kid dies, they know why this is going wrong," he adds. "The number one thing that creates situations is poor planning and poor management."

In the Northwest, our vibrant music scene has prepared local promoters and authorities on what's necessary to tame and please a crowd. Large-scale festivals have evolved from loose, spontaneous affairs to highly coordinated events like next weekend's Bumbershoot festival, which brings 100,000 people a day to the Seattle Center.

Local concert history is not un-scarred. At a 1971 impromptu rock festival called Sunrise, 800 people were driven out of Sun Lakes State Park in Grant County with tear gas because of improper permits; that same year, the Satsop River Fair and Tin Cup Races attracted about 100,000 and resulted in 19 injuries. At three different rock shows in Seattle in the early '80s, two people were killed and at least 24 injured. In this decade, the Showbox, KeyArena and other venues have been the sites of small riots or concert-related injuries, and large tours like Steve Miller, Pearl Jam and Neil Young, as well as Lollapalooza, brought crowd problems to the Gorge Amphitheatre.

Less is more

But those are the exceptions. Most concerts happen without major incidents, and for good reasons.

Because there are no Washington state laws that set guidelines for crowd control, promoters must rely on experience and the lessons of the past to determine when security levels and tactics are right.

When it comes to keeping a rowdy crowd tame, less may be more. The Gorge in Grant County, a 20,000-capacity natural amphitheatre, is one of the state's largest venues. Purchased in 1994 by Universal Concerts (then MCA Concerts), the Gorge hosts large-scale events nearly every weekend in the summer months, and problems often crop up in the adjoining campground.

Roger Hoen, manager of the campground, recalls an instance when a minimal display of force literally snuffed a potential situation there.

"A couple of years ago, a bunch of people rolled a hay bale into the campground and lit a fire. The police came, the fire truck came with lights blazing, and the crowd wouldn't let them in to put it out," he remembers. The incident occurred in 1996 when Lollapalooza fans started a bonfire and blocked firefighters from extinguishing it, resulting in a riot that prompted the immediate expulsion of 7,000 from the campground. "Last year, they did the same thing, rolled a bale of hay in, and lit it on fire. This time, the police and fire department came, but with no lights, no incident, and they put the fire out."

Hoen's account illustrates how the days of pronounced control by law enforcement officers or brutish private-sector guards may be over. Successful security for concerts and festivals has less to do with fan-to-staff ratios than more sophisticated, sociological planning. No longer are police primarily responsible for managing the crowd, nor are qualifications for event staff based on size and strength alone.

"A badge in a crowd setting is a very negative thing, psychology-wise," says Dave Christiansen of Starplex/CMS, a crowd management company that has been used at the Gorge since 1989. He says that the "peer group" methodology is critical.

Christiansen staffs sold-out Gorge shows with 100 to 300 employees at the amphitheater alone, depending on the show. "If you have a mosh pit at a high-maintenance, aggressive show, you have to have a crew that will fit the crowd. We adapt and change staffing and their look," he says. Blazers, black slacks and tie may be a suitable uniform for Neil Diamond, but his crew dresses down to polos amongst the young throng at KUBE Summer Jam.

And 60 percent of his crew is female, for a good reason. "If there are two big jocks in an argument, and you send a woman in to talk to them, most times they will not hit a gal, and they will back off. It diffuses the testosterone."

Problems in the campground

The Gorge's security situation is complicated by its one-of-a-kind campground, which is operated jointly by the farmer that owns the property, Universal Concerts, and concession subcontractor/campground management Ogden Entertainment. It's a boon for partying and pooped-out fans, but the bane of those trying to keep it under control. Under the previous owners, the Gorge's parking lot was closed immediately after shows, forcing fans to drive long distances back home or inundate local camp areas. The amphitheater became synonymous with safety hazards both on and off the road, unregulated crime and rampant trespassing.The camp is the venue's effort to minimize crowd impact.

"What we're doing is bringing all of the problems that used to devastate the community to a single place," Hoen says, "and do everything we can to police, secure and make it safe rather than something the local community is trying to resolve in a hundred places."

After high-capacity shows, between 30 and 100 private security staffers man the Gorge campground. Christiansen says that the staff is then responsible for roving the grounds, identifying potential infractions, and alerting the sheriff's department of crime suspects. Starplex's employees perform citizen's arrests and searches for contraband in the form of "public safety inspections."

Grant County Undersheriff Michael Shay says uniformed officers usually will not enter the picture until event security has made the first move in any situation. Officers use the Gorge campground as their staging area on performance nights, providing a display of authority, but only posting whatever officers may be available that evening.

Having served for 18 years and witnessed the evolution of the Gorge as a venue, Shay acknowledges how inflammatory the appearance of law enforcement can be.

"We won't put our uniforms in there," he says, adding that even his undercover team of narcotics officers are held back after a couple of citations because they're too easily identifiable. "But when we go in, we go in force."

Shay says that most camper infractions are due to minors in possession or consumption of alcohol, marijuana possession, traffic violations and assaults. The number of arrests some weekends can fill up their jail, and last year, the sheriffs and state patrol issued 1,400 tickets in a single weekend.

Although he can appreciate the promoters' good will, it's not without its negative effects. "They want to be good neighbors. They pay to clean up garbage and keep it out of farmers' fields, and promote a good-neighbor policy," he says. "The problem is that the patrons don't have the same policy." Because of this, he has his own opinion of the campground and its inhabitants' proclivity for "lawlessness." "The base camp is a disturbance in general, it's a nuisance," he says. "I don't know what else to call it."

Local residents and police aren't the only ones disenchanted with the camp and its overflow. "Personally, I don't like the campground that much, but we have to offer them something," says Christiansen. "If we force someone on the road who's been drinking all day, and they kill someone, what good is that?"

Hoen says Universal is negotiating to buy the campground and exercise greater control over it. "We're at the edge of really being able to manage it the way it needs to be managed."

Why the long lines?

Bill Parsons was a pioneer of peer group security in the late '60s in Los Angeles; he owned the private security firm now known as StaffPro before joining Universal in 1987. He emphasizes the fact that venue coordination with authorities has been streamlined in the last four decades. Universal holds monthly meetings with Grant County authorities, the State Liquor Control Board and other local interests.

"There wasn't as much cooperation and communication as there is now, and the need to meet with the police departments and all local law enforcement. We now have to work with alcohol control in addition to the traditional security concerns. We also have to manage traffic for access into the facility."

If you've ever wondered why you had to circumnavigate lines of temporary fences in the middle of Seattle Center just to get into the KeyArena or Memorial Stadium, it's because organizers figured it out the hard way.

"Facilities have learned to use physical barriers to try to break up crowds," says Parsons, citing the mistakes of the fatal Who incident. "A large crowd was allowed to get right up to the glass doors, and no barriers and barricades were set so that it wasn't one large bubble of people."

Drinking also must be monitored. "Alcohol is another influential factor on mood and mannerisms of the crowd," says Wertheimer, a sentiment echoed by organizers, security and authorities alike. Washington's strict alcohol consumption laws, under the authority of the Liquor Control Board, already restrict consumption to beer gardens at outdoor events. Sales are ultimately determined by the venue, however, and concession managers like Hoen can opt not to sell alcohol at certain events altogether. Because largely underage crowds were anticipated, the Gorge's public beer garden was closed for both KUBE Summer Jam and Nickelodeon's All That and More teen pop festival.

Getting it right

Ultimately, the safety of a show must rely on the goodwill of everyone there: promoters, security, concessionaires and fans. The challenge for promoters is to ensure every event has that environment.

Even a concert-industry critic like Wertheimer is optimistic that the right balance can be achieved between safety, security and fun. He remembers visiting Seattle a few years ago to check out shows like Ween at the Crocodile or Presidents of the United States at local club RKCNDY. "I couldn't believe how calm and cool it was and how relaxed the scene was," he said. "Give them the right environment and still have a plan and precautions: This is the balance you want. It should be seamless and understood by fans."

"There's no reason why it can't be done right," he says. And maybe in the Northwest, we're getting closer.