The Big Risk
A mini-memoir by Dwight York
Introduction
The Legendary Buffalo Chip Campground, Sturgis, South Dakota, is the biggest entertainment venue at the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Every August—for nine straight days—thousands gather. Not only for great concerts, but also to partake in lots of fun adult-themed shows and activities: motorcycle races, bikini contests, tattoo artists, fire dancers, zip-lines, roller derby, machine gun shooting, midget bowling… All while enjoying readily available alcoholic beverages. A good percentage of guests camp out—in tents, trailers, RVs, and cabins. Most stay all week. It’s called the “best party anywhere.”
For eight straight years (2009-2016), I performed stand-up comedy on a variety of stages throughout the campground. Not surprisingly, my shows were generally a disappointment. Usually, because of my inability to draw a crowd. Regrets? Sure, but I had a few fun shows. Plus, quite a few shows I’ll never forget. Which is worth something, right?
I also got to see a lot of conerts—more than a few of these memorable: Aerosmith, Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Ozzy Osbourne, George Thorogood, Cheap Trick, Styx, Journey, Lynyrd Skynyrd, ZZ Top, Alice Cooper, Def Leppard, Boston, The Guess Who, John Fogerty, Mötley Crüe, Toby Keith, Zac Brown Band, Queensrÿche, Collective Soul, John Mayall, Tesla, Hinder, Rob Zombie, Skid Row, SLASH, Gregg Allman, Jeff Bridges, 3 Doors Down, Lita Ford, 38 Special, Reverend Horton Heat, Buckcherry, Elle King, War, Lukas Nelson, and “Weird Al” Yankovic.
On August 5th, 2009, Steven Tyler of Aerosmith fell off the stage during their performance at the Buffalo Chip Campground which ended their 2009 summer tour. I found the following excerpt about the mishap on Rolling Stone. It brought back memories.
Aerosmith’s sound system failed during their performance of “Love In An Elevator”…. Tyler began dancing on to keep the crowd enthused. “I wanted to go out to the crowd to continue the show… so, the Train Kept A- Rollin’ and I ran out on the catwalk and grabbed my mic to finish the song,” Tyler said in a statement following the tour’s cancellation. “I was doing the Tyler shuffle and then I zigged when I should have zagged…AND I slipped, and as I live on the edge…I fell off the edge!”
I can relate.
Winter 2009
It is said that a man’s dreams die hard. I can testify to that, but the twenty years of chasing mine had surely taken their toll. Although as a professional stand-up comic, I had achieved a level of success for which I was proud (a level few who attempt this crazy business ever attain); I was still, after all these years—all the blood, sweat, and tears—still barely scratching out a living in all but obscurity. Sure, I could say I was “living the dream,” but I was shattering that dream to pieces in the process. Tired of being broke and miserable with the routine hell-gigs I was forced to accept, I was becoming increasingly disillusioned and had come to the sad realization that if the elusive big break didn’t soon come my way, this old road-dog couldn’t much longer soldier on.
Stand-up comedy is a tough business. But what’s even tougher is giving it up. As depressing as thoughts of quitting were, they also served to light a fire within. That same steely determination that kept me going all these years was not about to let my lifelong aspirations die. Not without a fight. Call it desperation if you will, but I was itching to do something gutsy. In an analogy of climbing Mount Everest—I was tired of trekking around the safety of the base camp. I wanted my shot at the summit.
That was my mindset the fateful January day I began talking over the telephone with another dreamer. Steve Heinbaugh was an out-of-work on account of a bum-knee floor-installer with an entrepreneurial spirit and a love of stand-up comedy. His latest dream was to bring top-quality comedy shows to his little corner of South Dakota. Steve had a website and a track record of losing his ass. But he also knew prominent local businessman Rod Woodruff, and when he said he could arrange for me to meet with him, should I come to town, I told him to start printing posters. Although I was not optimistic that a trip to the Black Hills in the dead of winter would be fun or profitable, I was itching to make my pitch to the famous owner of the Legendary Buffalo Chip.
Bringing my comedy act to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally had been on my mind for years. Though I didn’t own a motorcycle, my hippie-drifter-outlaw persona and a vast arsenal of adult-orientated drug, drinking, and sex jokes had always been appreciated by the biker crowd. My wildest career dream was to have a comedy special on HBO—and believed the ultimate location to have it filmed was at the biggest motorcycle rally in the world. Surely, filming a show for hard-core bikers would make for compelling television. And the perfect setting for giving my stage persona the brand it deserved. Throw some bare-breasted biker-babes into the mix, and you’d have an uncensored comedy special the masses could rally around (pun intended). If I couldn’t sell that concept to HBO, I was never going to sell one. But first I had to prove I could make my show work in such an environment. Probably, it would have been easier to climb Mount Everest.
Steve came through. He put together a Black Hills Comedy Tour—Sturgis, Spear Fish, and Belle Fourche. Woodruff met us one cold winter afternoon at a sports bar in Belle Fourche. It was informal. Woody (as his friends call him) drew the layout of the campground on a bar napkin, describing where his stages were located and where comedy might be attempted. I explained my vision and touted my act’s unique ability to fit into the big biker-party mix. It was a bold proposal on my part with virtually no financial risk to the shrewd and penny-wise campground owner and CEO. Give me some stage time between bands in exchange for a place to pitch my tent and a chance to sell my new CD. Woody agreed. Though my proposal was modest and but a foot in the door, I couldn’t have been happier if he’d written me a big fat check. I had my shot at the summit.
Anybody who knows anything about stand-up comedy would argue—this was a gutsy move on my part—to the level of foolhardy. Probably, nobody but me would dare make the attempt—even if he were getting paid. Conventional wisdom being that any attempt to do stand-up comedy on an outdoor stage for a crowd expecting to hear music was a recipe for disaster. Plus, factor in the audience at a motorcycle rally literally being a tough crowd. Though usually prone to worry and quick to second guess myself, this time I had no doubt I’d stumbled upon precisely the bold career move I needed to orchestrate my big break. A few hours after our meeting, while paging through the previous year’s Buffalo Chip Gazette, I read Woody’s annual letter. He closed with, “Ride free, take risks.” Those four words struck a chord. It was a sign the fates were smiling upon me. Not since my senior year of high school—while smoking pot—when I first heard Time for Me to Fly off of REO Speed Wagon’s new album, had a tiny phrase had such a profound impact. Of course, I was aware that thousands would’ve read Woody’s motto, but in my mind, it spoke directly to me. Wasn’t I about to take the hugest of big risks? Surely, I had been riding free (metaphorically) my whole life. High this time on adrenaline and wishful thinking, I was probably also under the influence of a full-blown mid-life crisis; this risky endeavor, my brand-new Corvette.
To be continued…
To read the rest of the mini-memoir, The Big Risk, join my email list. I’ll send it to your inbox. It’s a PDF file and about the size of a magazine article (6,000 words). Or email me: dwight44york@gmail.com
