You don’t need a weather man to know which way the wind blows - Bob Dylan, “Subterranean Homesick Blues”
William G. Scheele isn’t the kind of guy who dutifully reports to the office every day, waiting for a corporation to hand him his destiny. He makes stuff happen. In 1984, he founded the Cleveland Artists Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to preserving the visual art of northeastern Ohio. After a four-year stint as CAF’s director, he opened Scheele Fine Art, where for eight years he exhibited contemporary art and the work of Cleveland School artists like Paul Travis and his father, William E., an artist and book illustrator who was the director of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History from 1949 to 1972.
Scheele went multimedia at the turn of the millennium. He began working with lasers and new media to create light spectacles for museums, corporate events and films. One gig was the laser-light show that celebrated Egypt’s post-restoration Great Sphinx. Four years later he founded NewCAT (New Collaborations in Art and Technology), Cleveland’s first institute devoted to computer-based art, an ambitious endeavor that, sadly, lacked funding and closed.
His current project is Kokoon Arts Gallery, on the second floor of 78th Street Studios, the West Side’s new art mecca. The current exhibition is “Earthly Delights,” Lee Heinen’s suite of Fauvist-inspired trees and landscapes executed in dashes of hot pink, flaming orange and fluorescent yellow.
But Scheele seems restless. He has more stories to tell. He’s thumbing through an album of black and white photos, all taken from 1969 to 1976, when he was the stage manager and soundman for Bob Dylan and The Band. Woodstock’s 40th anniversary must gotten him thinking about his youth, and he’d unearthed these photos that he’d put away for decades.
I recently spoke with Scheele at his gallery and then at Visible Voice Books in Tremont, where fourteen of the photos, most taken during Dylan and The Band’s 1974 tour, were recently on exhibit. These photos and additional ones, along with related ephemera, will be on view indefinitely at Kokoon. A slideshow is available on Scheele’s website. He wanted to talk about the experience that taught him to “do your own thing in life.”
OA: How did you land this gig?
WS: Jon Taplin, my high school classmate, somehow knew Albert Grossman, who was Dylan’s manager. I got the job through Jon. I flew to LA in April of 1969. The Band was recording their second album [The Band] at Sammy Davis Jr.’s house. They’d rented the house and turned the pool room into a studio. I was about to turn 21. This was just before Woodstock.
OA: Many of these pictures are taken from backstage, and there’s frequently a stool in the foreground.
WS: All of these pictures were taken on the 1974 Bob Dylan and The Band tour. [The Band was Dylan’s backing band on his ‘65-66 “gone electric tour,” and went on the road with him again in 1974.] The stools held [Dylan's] harmonicas and water cups. I was on stage every minute of every concert because that was my job. I took care of them and all their instruments. I was able to capture these weird things happening. Like this expression. Dylan rolling his eyes and just coming off stage. [He points to Spotlight.] I don’t remember where that was or when that was. I never experienced Bob and the Band from out front because I had to be on stage. I just picked up a camera and took pictures because I could.
Dylan at the keys circa 1974 (photo courtesy of William G. Scheele)
OA: Did Dylan and the Band have any pre-concert rituals?
WS: No, not like the MC5. I had a chance to participate with them a few times. No, these people were intellectuals. They’re not goo-gahs. Most rock music is goo-gah shit. Let’s make noise. Let’s rock out. These people weren’t that way. These people were musicians. They were like a classical quintet. Remember, ‘74 was the first time in eight years that Bob had been on the road, so especially in the beginning, they were kind of working on arrangements to songs.
OA: What did you do before and during concerts?
WS: Strings break. Vocal monitors were always a problem. We spent many years tweaking being able to hear. These days, people have ear pieces. They don’t even have speakers on stage anymore. But this was primitive times, when we still had speakers, and you had to place them so there’s no feedback. You’re tweaking how your sound is projected out to the crowd, but then you’re also tweaking the sound that the musicians hear on stage. Because they were perfectionists. You got people who are serious about their music, and they want to hear. They want to hear subtleties, not just generalities.
OA: Did they ever get demanding with you?
WS: No. None of these people were prima donnas. They were some of the most humble people I’ve ever met.
OA: How did your experience with Dylan and the Band shape your worldview?
WS: One major influence was the message to do your own thing in life. When I first returned to my homeland, I worked at a few different jobs to learn more about printing, architectural graphics and exhibits, but after a while I decided to create my own path. The great experience, however, was the opportunity to be a part of one of the greatest musical combos of all time, along with their friend, the greatest poet. Their music never fails to inspire me and keep the fire burning.
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