**We return for the final installment of Dinky Dawson’s hilariously captivating tale of the legendary gig wagon races, this time featuring Fleetwood Mac. If you missed Part I, you can read that here, and Part II here.

The airplane creaked and groaned as the pilot gave it more gas. Mick Fleetwood and Danny Kirwan were not too happy either, but Peter Green, Jeremy Spencer, and I nervously started laughing to cover our fear. The stewardess came out with more drinks and I managed to get a bottle of Scotch for John McVie and me. Although it seemed like days, within hours we were landing at Antwerp, just as John and I finished the Scotch. Even Peter, usually a teetotaler, had been drinking. As our landing gear met the tarmac, the plane erupted with applause. After a quiet and quick customs stop, the bands were taken to the hotel, and the roadies sorted out and loaded the gear into the trucks.

We all felt good as we entered the soccer stadium, where there were two big stages with a six-foot gap separating them. The promoters had built two stages, thinking one act could play while the next group set up. The sound system was a huge hodgepodge of every group’s sound gear and nothing was compatible. To top it all, Baz was in charge of setting up the sound system. It was a mess and, for once, I was glad the Mac had left our gear in England. Walking to the trucks, I saw a line of equipment heading to the stage, carried by an army of English roadies that seemed to appear from out of nowhere.

“Hey, where did these worker ants come from?” I asked Baz, pointing to the roadies. “They weren’t on our plane.”

“Yeah, they came over earlier to set up the stage. Nothing for you to do,” said Baz. “Put that over there,” he called out to a roadie. “Here, Dinky, you take this. The lads have already emptied the plane and don’t need it anymore!” Baz handed me half a bottle of Scotch.

“I’ll drink to that,” I laughed, taking a big gulp as I watched the drunken crew move the equipment. It wasn’t even noon.

Baz had decided to put the mixing consoles in between the two stages, figuring it would be easier to move between the two stages this way. Fortunately, the weather was fantastic, which was a good thing since the stage had no cover. And, amazingly, the hodgepodge sound system actually worked really well. Most of the speaker cabinets were columns containing four in-line 12-inch speakers. The 20-plus columns on each side of the stage were loud. As soon as Baz and his crew cranked up the system, the gates opened and people poured into the gig, ready for a noon start. No one even thought about a soundcheck.

I checked out the first act and then went to the backstage bar. It felt as if I was back at the Speak with all the different popstars hanging out ready to play. I found John McVie having a great old time and had a few drinks with him. I was starting to get a good buzz on when I decided it was time to work onstage during the next set change. As the set ended, Baz tried to jump up onto the stage from the mixing consoles. Whack!—he missed his footing and fell back, knocking one of the consoles over. I rushed over to help him, but Baz was laughing sheepishly. He was okay but his ego was bruised. Later, just before the Mac’s set, I slipped off the stage, barely missing the mixing consoles by a hair. Didn’t feel a thing, though. By now I was seeing double. We played to a very large, enthusiastic crowd who kept cheering for more, but when I leaped up to fix a loose cable, I fell off the stage again, feeling very embarrassed as I picked myself up. I sat down behind the consoles, mixing on autopilot. Seeing my predicament, Peter laughed uncontrollably while Jeremy jumped out from behind his amplifier to see what was going off. From this point on, I knew I was plastered. I had no idea what the mix sounded like, but I was told the next day that I had done well. Yet after the show, it was tough packing up the gear.

John McVie came looking for me to make sure I was okay. “Dinky,” he said, “I can be your guide. You’ve been drinking too much!” But we both needed a guide as John had hit the bar as soon as he was off the stage and he, too, was feeling no pain. Peter couldn’t stop laughing. I don’t remember much more, but I do remember waking up in a big, puffy bed with a big, bad hangover. The worst was making the return journey to England in the same prop airplane. Peter was still laughing, but Mick was very serious about the gear and the show.

“Dinky,” he said sternly, “this is our work. We can’t afford to lose our gear. And people pay to see us play.” But Dennis Keane, Fleetwood Mac’s band roadie, told him that the gear was taken care of and would be waiting for us in England. Then Mick opened the morning newspaper to find a large photo of Fleetwood Mac on stage. The article praised the whole show, complimenting the Mac for a great performance. Mick started to lighten up. I haven’t seen Baz since this gig but I’m sure he has the same fond, foggy memories as I do.

On the 22nd of April, Fleetwood Mac, B.B. King, and Duster Bennett (with Long John Baldry as master of ceremonies) played the Royal Albert Hall, London. Though much loved, the old Victorian hall presents a challenging load-in with its numerous, narrow stairs making it difficult to move gear. To help, my good friend and mentor Charlie Watkins, from Watkins Electric Music (WEM), sent extra roadies, including some of my good friends from the Speakeasy. Charlie also sent extra sound equipment to augment Fleetwood Mac’s WEM system. We had been talking for some time about how great it would be to have a sound system with a separate vocal system that would add clarity and midrange to the sound. For this gig, Charlie decided it was time to try one out. He set up two red, six-foot-round, parabolic dishes with a black 10-inch speaker facing into each focal point. We hung these parabolics on both sides of the Royal Albert Hall organ and powered each with 40-watt WEM amplifier. I sent just the vocals to the dishes and what a difference it made. The sound was awesome. Even B.B. remarked how good it sounded.

After the show Mick Jagger came up to Mick and me. “I liked the giant boobs on the organ,” he said. “And they sounded good, too.”

I thought that was the best comment all night.

Theater in the Round

Orleans: Still the One!

The Kinks: Demon Alcohol