The Joy of Sets!
From Joseph’s Coat to Arena stages: A Stage Manager’s Tale
If you ever asked me, “What’s the best job in the world?” I’d probably tell you it’s being a stage manager. Not just because it grants you a front-row seat to the magic (though that’s part of it), but because it’s a love child of chaos, precision, and a good old sense of humour.
My journey began back in 1989, when I was an aspiring actor and landed my first job through a mate of mine as ASM on Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Ah, that glittering world of Lycra, neon, and endless drinking sessions. I was one year out of drama school, wide-eyed, very innocent but I clutched my toolkit that I had managed to scrabble together, had a great singing voice and believed that the stage was where the magic happened—and it was for me. Little did I know that this was merely the training ground for a universe of all kinds of future madness.
I landed a few acting roles in various theatres and was hoping to do a panto in Ireland where some “political actors” decided they didn’t need the front of the theatre, so we ended up not going, but I mainly got offered ASM/DSM roles. I had a great singing voice for my age and unusual for the time as it was a proper bass voice against the trend when Les Misérables etc were leading the way for high tenors only. I liked the processes of stage managing, the order it took to mark out a rehearsal room floor, the incredible staying power it took to sit in prompt corner on the weathered uncomfortable stool whilst cueing the curtain open and basically being a small important part of an arty machine that toured the country to entertain.
The big change for me over to what I do now was getting an audition for Buddy through an actress I was working with at the time, who knew the producer. I turned up with the three prescribed songs and stood on the stage with the band on the west end stage. I managed to not remember the words to OH Boy which has about twenty words in it and they are just repeated!! I tried Big Boppers song, which really suited my vocal range and fluffed those lines as well. I knew it wasn’t going well, and so did the producer. He was very kind and invited me down to the stalls. He was very complimentary about my signing voice and kindly glossed over the disaster he had just witnessed. He moved effortlessly to another compliment and said “ I understand you’re are a good stage manager though” I took that as a cue that my acting career was well and truly done. We had a good laugh, and I apologised for wasting his time. They offered me the role on tour with Buddy as DSM, but I had a large project coming up in the corporate world and didn’t go back to theatre after a Ballet tour in 1994.
My early days, however, involved threading through the chaos of Joseph’s colourful ensemble, gently persuading backstage divas that, yes, the costume change could happen in under 37 seconds, and that yes, and for the love of all that’s glittery, make sure the kids don’t try to touch the smoke machine.
As I moved from backstage to the command centre (a.k.a. prompt corner, usually stage left), I learned that no two days are the same. Whether it was the fainting cast member, the sneezing audience member with hay fever, or the leading actor was slightly worse for wear for the drink, the art of managing live theatre was perfecting the delicate balance of chaos and control.
I toured a lot of plays with smallish casts for various producers in London working as a DSM, calling the show and dealing with personalities, some of a gloriously funny and captivating nature and some proper (deploy favourite derogative word for dickhead)
Enter the 2020s: Stadiums, exhibitions, and live events on a scale that makes the original Bill Kenwright Joseph look like a school play, (evidence above!). Here, the stakes are higher, the wires are longer, and the temperature rises faster than the bass drops. And yet, the core principles remain for live events, clear communication, (even when comms go down) meticulous planning, and an ability to laugh when things go spectacularly awry.
Fast forward a few decades, and the stage has evolved from black box theatres to vast Arena’s hosting thousands. Well, not just evolved—the scope and scale have grown exponentially, but some things stay wonderfully constant: the need for a calm voice, quick thinking, and a sense of humour that can survive a lighting desk meltdown at 2 a.m.
Meltdown and strops were some of the reasons I left theatre and then coming into the corporate game I found the original folks who had left theatre for the glamourous world of “technical/ corporate Theatre” as it was called then, were in the driving seat and I witnessed some very similar behaviour, I just got paid more to watch it!!
One thing I’ve learned is that you haven’t truly experienced a live event until you’ve had a “technical issue” during the opening VT, or when a hastily opened dock door blows your drapes which knocks over the props and the magical atmosphere is lost somewhat for a minute. The key difference between theatre and stadiums? In theatre, you can whisper reassurances in a quiet voice. In an Arena, you shout into a megaphone and pray to every tech god you know.
And let’s not forget the “character-building” moments— like comms failing whilst getting Ladysmith Black Mambazo on stage in the round in Johannesburg, so people didn’t come on from 2 sides until I ran to make it so by standing in the middle of the stage and shouting over the crowd like with the screams of a wraith to the confused expectant singers and audience.
When I get the offer nowadays, I have to think about what keeps me coming back, to stand in the dark, still get butterflies and have sore feet and sore back from standing up for hours, year after year, event after event, is the thrill of being part of orchestrating something magnificent from a jumble of wires, lights, and people. The unspoken camaraderie—shared glances, quick nods, and the knowledge that when the curtain goes up, we all hold the same secret: we’re just a bunch of experienced chancers trying to keep the show on the road.
And the joy? It’s discovering that no matter how big the venue—be it a cozy theatre or a massive arena—the reasons remain the same: the detailed preparation, the love of live performance, the unpredictability, and those moments of shared triumph when everything comes together.
I have a lovely team of Stage Managers who I have come across both here in Italy but also around the world, so if you need anything worldwide just drop me a line.
So, to anyone thinking about stepping into this crazy, wonderful world: bring your sense of humour, your patience, and your willingness to laugh when things don’t go exactly as planned. Because in the end, that’s the real magic of being a stage manager: turning potential chaos into unforgettable memories.
Pictures available of me in Joseph on tour proper, are on the dark web, probably!!
