Long days, long nights, high risk, largely unrecognized sacrifice, and the occasional bankruptcy. What madman makes this kind of career choice? Festival promoters, and there are hundreds of them. Some last for one or two seasons, a few last for years. We wondered how they got into the field, and how they survived and grew.

The original impetuses are varied. Michael Cloeren worked at a Poconos ski resort, and sought to make use of the facility in the off-season. Tom Mazzolini, working for the City of San Francisco, couldn't find shows he wanted to see himself. Doc Watson wanted to honor the memory of his son. Whatever the circumstances, however, the underlying reason is really the love of the music, the desire to educate many people, and to present quality and diversity. It ain't easy.

That first step can be a lulu. Michael Lang, who had organized Miami Pop in 1968 and who today says "I've never been in the festival business," made history with his second effort the following year, Woodstock. The first San Francisco Blues Festival, in 1973, aimed for the legal capacity of 600, but attracted some 2,000. Ted Boomer's first festival created havoc, jamming Windsor, Ontario streets and the US Canadian tunnel, driving the police crazy. "It was great," Boomer recalls. "We kept creating chaos, and because they wanted us off the street, they finally gave us the waterfront location we wanted."

On the flip side, in Pinedale, Wyoming, a small festival turned into a debacle—complete with fistfights— when the original promoter failed to pay the bands, including Tab Benoit, who played even though he was stiffed. A

blizzard hit the following year, and the festival opened to a crowd standing in icy rain and snow—in the third week in June.

Sometimes things work out as planned. Michael Cloeren ran a feasibility study in January of '92, got approval in March, and the Pocono festival debuted that August 1 and 2 without a hitch, and has been profi table every year. Lori Dean talked to a landowner one Saturday in July, by Monday had insurance, dumpsters, porta potties, etc., and in early September produced 12 bands. When attendance doubled the next year, she moved to a campground, built a stage, and capped attendance at 1,000 for each of two festivals. The first year, Jerry Pillow borrowed a stage from a traveling preacher who came through Helena, Arkansas, and started the King Biscuit Blues Festival, now the Arkansas Blues & Heritage Fest.