Guardians of the Revolution

My Days on Prince's Purple Rain Tour

Some moments in life define us—experiences so powerful they become woven into the fabric of who we are. For me, working security on Prince's Purple Rain Tour was exactly that kind of experience.

The electricity in the air at Joe Louis Arena on opening night still gives me goosebumps when I think about it. From that first show to the finale at the Orange Bowl, which they renamed the "Purple Bowl" for that night only, I had a front-row seat to music history in the making.

None of it would have happened without Charles "Big Chick" Huntsberry, the man who changed the course of my life. Chick didn't just introduce me to the Close Protection industry—he took me under his wing and showed me what it meant to be a professional in this business. When most people saw chaos, Chick saw patterns. When others panicked, he remained calm. These weren't just skills; they were an entire philosophy about protection work that he passed down to me.

Together with my childhood friend Mark Brown, Chick helped connect me with the opportunity to work for Prince. I'll never forget the day I got that call. Suddenly, I wasn't just working security—I was part of something revolutionary.

The tour itself was a whirlwind. Backstage was its own universe with its own gravitational pull, and Prince was undeniably the sun we all orbited around. His talent was otherworldly, but what struck me most was his work ethic. The man was relentless in his pursuit of perfection, demanding just as much from himself as he did from everyone around him.

I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by incredible people throughout the tour. Earl "The Fabulous 1" Jones, Prince's hairdresser, was one of the kindest individuals I've ever met. His genuine warmth made everyone feel valued and seen. Wally Safford was hands down one of the funniest people I've ever known—his quick wit and perfectly timed jokes kept us laughing even during the most grueling stretches of the tour. These men weren't just colleagues—they became family.

Then there was Gilbert Davidson, my college football teammate who became a lifelong friend; Alan Leeds, the tour manager whose organizational genius kept the whole production running smoothly; and of course, Mark Brown, who'd been there since we were kids shooting hoops in the neighborhood.

What made the Purple Rain Tour special wasn't just the groundbreaking music or the spectacular performances—though there were plenty of both. It was the people. It was watching Prince transform from a brilliant musician in rehearsal to an absolute force of nature on stage. It was the camaraderie that developed among the crew as we navigated the challenges of life on the road. It felt like we were all part of something bigger than ourselves.

Sadly, many of the people who made those days so special are no longer with us. Chick, Earl, and Wally have all passed on, but their impact remains. I carry their lessons with me every day—Chick's professionalism, Earl's kindness, and Wally's sense of humor that could break the tension in even the most stressful situations.

Sometimes late at night, I can still hear the roar of those crowds, feel the bass vibrating through the floor, and see Prince commanding the stage like no one before or since. Those memories are treasures I'll never part with.

The Purple Rain Tour wasn't just a job. It wasn't even just an adventure. It was a masterclass in excellence, taught by some of the most talented people in the business. And for a kid who never imagined traveling beyond his hometown, it was nothing short of transformative.

I owe a debt of gratitude to everyone who made it possible—to Chick for opening the door, to Mark and Gilbert for their friendship, to Alan for his guidance, and to Prince for creating the magic that brought us all together.

Gone but never forgotten. Just like the Purple Rain Tour itself.