‘It can wear on you, and you get depressed’

Ubaldo Salvador is upbeat and gregarious by nature. But as the coronavirus pandemic that brought the local and global live-events industry to a halt in March stretches on, staying optimistic has become more challenging for this dedicated concert and festival stage crew veteran. “I just feel like it’s a really crappy time,” said Salvador, a 47-year-old Chula Vista native, who recently lost an uncle to the virus.

“I wish it was better,” he said. “I wish it was like normal. Dealing with so many things at once — COVID-19, the work situation, the heat — makes it really hard. But I’m staying positive as much as I can.”

Salvador’s main job as the stage manager at Observatory North Park has been, much like the venue itself, dormant for nearly six months now. His biggest gig this year outside of San Diego fell through not once, but twice.

“I was supposed to work

the Coachella festival in Indio this spring,” he said. “Then they moved it to October, which also won’t happen. Right now, I don’t see anything happening until next summer with the kind of work I do. It makes it hard to keep your spirits up, but you do what you have to do.”

As the stage manager at the Observatory, Salvador was employed as a seasonal worker by concertindustry giant Live Nation, which bought the 1,100capacity venue in the heart of North Park in 2019.

The company, which announced mass layoffs and furloughs this spring, subsequently saw its secondquarter earnings for 2020 plunge dramatically. Live Nation reported a loss of $431.9 million, compared with the $3.16 billion it earned in 2019’s second quarter.

Working at the Live Nation-owned Observatory alone, even in the pivotal role as the venue’s stage manager, did not pay all of Salvador’s bills. He regularly augmented his income by working corporate events and concerts in venues small (Casbah) and large (Petco Park).

All his freelance gigs disappeared in the wake of the pandemic. For Salvador — whose stage manager position saw him happily work 10- to 14-hour days — the sudden transition to joblessness was as unexpected as it was initially disorienting.

“It’s pretty weird from being on the go, all the time, to all of a sudden being at home, all the time. It can wear on you, and you get depressed,” said Salvador, who with his former wife shares custody of their daughter, Ryder, 18, and son, Cash, 16.

“I was the first one at work each day and the last to leave, and I loved it,” he continued. “I’m used to seeing at least 1,000 people a day at each show. And now, it’s my girlfriend and my daughter and son. I love having more time with them, but it was like: ‘Boom!’ Now I know what it’s like when the artists who are on tour say they’re all alone in their hotel room.”

With far more free time on his hands than he ever imagined or wanted, Salvador is doing his best to look to the future.

“I don’t sit around and mope about a situation,” he stressed. “I do something about it. If there’s no liveevent work by the fall, I’ll look for something else. I have no idea what that might be. I’m open.”

In the meantime, Salvador networks weekly with concert-industry colleagues and drives by his parents’ home to say hello. He also rehearses once a week in Tijuana with his punk-rock quartet, Bumbklatt, named after a 1998 song by the heavy-metal band Soulfly.

“I’m constantly spraying disinfectant everywhere,” Salvador said. “Not just on my hands, but my whole body, the microphones, guitars, and everywhere. I go crazy with that.”

Salvador is not a member of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, Moving Picture

Technicians, Artists and Allied Crafts of the United States. He was aided greatly by the $600-a-week pandemic unemployment assistance he received from the federal government, but that funding ended in late July.

“It’s a big difference, and I’m worried about making rent again,” Salvador said. “I live very simply and try not to accumulate big bills, like I did when I was in my 20s.

“So we’ll wait until rent gets paid, buy some food, and then see how much money we have left for the month. My son just started 10th grade and my daughter just started at Southwestern College. Luckily, I don’t have to buy my kids new school clothes this year because their classes are all online.

“The situation now is like fish when the water runs out. It hasn’t happened, not yet. But if we don’t do something soon, we’ll be dry.”

“I wish it was better. I wish it was like normal.”

NELVIN C. CEPEDA U-T