The Back Story:
In 1990 I took the
Pointer Sisters on a Middle Eastern USO tour of duty
stations in what was then
Operation Desert Shield.
We were due to be met in Bahrain at the airport by a representative of
the
Bob Hope office who would, we were told, meet us with visas, shepherd us through the immigration process, get us settled in our hotel, and give us nightly briefs on the next day's events.
After a several hour delay at London Heathrow due to striking baggage handlers, on arrival in Bahrain we were met only by a US Air Force major, "
Major Bob" as we soon dubbed him. Needless to say, as many road stories go, there was no one with the promised visas from the Hope organization. Hope and his crew, we soon learned, were held over on the front lines in Saudi Arabia meeting and greeting the troops who were dug in there, and shooting B- roll for the NBC TV Special that would be taping live in Bahrain which would pay for the entire trip and then some for Mr. Hope and company.
That's how it worked in those days. Hope would get the acts for the TV show which was a paying gig and USO and the DOD would get you for the rest of the week visiting
troops. It was win win for everyone.
Meanwhile, we were now on foreign soil without visas, had not yet been processed through immigration, and there was no one, as promised, to take care of those little minor details that occur when groups of celebrities tour. And, quite a group it was. While the men, like
Johnny Bench and
Lee Greenwood, had all arrived a day early and were easily admitted into Saudi because they were males, the women infidels of the tour, we were told, were denied entry by the Saudis.
That left the 3 Pointers, their significant others, myself,
Ann Jillian,
Marie Osmond, and a TV actress who was big at the time,
Kristina Haaj, and their spouses, in our host's absence, in my charge.
Being a quick study in those days, it didn't take me long to realize that by being the only Professional Tour Manager (employed at the time by the Pointers, I might add) in the country at the time, I was the only one in the bunch capable of keeping this tired, hungry, and angry mob from descending into total anarchy. And, since I was about to spend the next week and a half amongst them, out of self defense I quickly and aggressively took charge, gathered all the passports, and proceeded to negotiate our entry into the country.
Two hours and a gross overpayment for visas later, Major Bob, his crew, and
I finally got everyone in our DOD provided bus and on the way to the Diplomat Hotel which would be our base for the entire tour.
The June Pointer Incident:
Each morning a bus crewed by two buffed out young Marines would be waiting in front of the hotel at the specified time. On the floor between them was a duffel bag containing some comm eqt, and a few military weapons.
One morning, June greeted the young Hispanic driver and asked him where he was from. "LA, Ma'am" he replied. "Is that a real gun?" she said. "Yes Ma'am. We were thinking of doing some drive by's later" he said in an exaggerated
Cheech Marin tone. She almost busted a gut laughing and from then on, everyday she made a point of spending some time with him and his partner while we waited to get underway. June was always outgoing and adventurous in that way.
Each day the bus would take us to either a Helicopter, or a small boat, which would convey the entire troupe to duty stations either on a battleship, carrier, hospital ship,or a MASH unit at a land locked base out in the boonies,. Sometimes the choppers would just land us directly on a ship. Consequently, we were on the choppers enough to each have staked claim on a seat that was our individual seat.
Tour bus and road etiquette dictates that you don't claim jump another persons seat. Only the greenest of rookies would even attempt a low move like that.
Enter the husband of another Pointer Sister. Getting on the chopper that morning Mr. Sensitive pushes past June and takes her seat next to the bulkhead. June turned to me to vent her anger with a few choice and colorful epithets. My usual reply to June in a situation like that was " Now Miss June, it just ain't worth it." She leaned over and said in my ear: "Yeah, but Karma is a mother f-----, and what goes around comes around!"
Settled in and en-route to the hospital ship Mercy somewhere in the middle of the Persian Gulf, we sat back to enjoy the trip.
After awhile I could see the postage stamp sized White Hospital ship below us in the far distance. At that point Mr Sensitive,
Kermit, if you will, unbuckles his seat belt and gets up from his (June's) bulkhead seat next to the hatch door. Just as he stands up, as if on cue, the hatch door blows out of the chopper and begins to tumble down to the Gulf. in less time than it takes to write this, one of the two Navy Seal crewmen grabs "Kermit" by the lapels, throws him against the opposite bulkhead, covers him securely with his own body and mouths to me, "he goes in, I go in".
What seemed like it took ten minutes in my mind actually occurred in seconds as I continued to sneak glances at the hatch door still tumbling down to the Gulf in slow motion.
Without missing a beat June leans over to my ear again with a Cheshire cat grin and says: "I told you, Karma is a mother f-----!"
We landed safely on the Mercy and the female pilot who had befriended June (to the point of giving her the only remaining headset so she could listen in on all the comm traffic during the flight) told June and I that in her many years of flying choppers she had never seen or heard of a hatch door blowing out like that.
Jim Cantale
ESI Events/Los Angeles
