Newburyport - You don’t have to be a con man to get the job done, but it’s not a bad skill set to have because, strictly speaking, it’s not quite kosher. Big stars want to control ... well, everything, but especially the way their image is presented. So, if you want something better than a blurry cell phone image, you’ve got to be creative.

“There’s a science to it,” says Rocco Coviello, the Newburyport photographer and slightly over-the-top Bruce Springsteen fan, who has 24 credited shots of the Boss in “For You,” the mammoth collection of stories, recollections and confessions of Springsteen fans released late last year.

Like strategies for getting your equipment into the show: You strap the camera body to your back, filters and film to your legs, with tape (ouch) or velcro straps. And, seriously, stuff the 220-milimeter lens in your pants. You may have to walk with a limp. But the key here is diversion — the fanny pack. Fill it with binoculars, cell phones, that kind of thing. “They’ll notice the fanny pack right away,” says Coviello. “They’ll be so intent looking at it that they won’t worry about anything else.”

Another trick is securing “dummy” rolls of film to your wrist so if they catch you shooting during the show — and , face it, sooner or later they will — you palm the dummy roll and try slight-of-hand techniques to pull the old switcheroo when one of the security goons is standing in front of you, demanding the film.

Coviello couldn’t pull that off in 2000, when Bruce ratted him out from the stage during the third of five shows at the Fleet Center during the reunion tour with E Street Band. Coviello was at all five shows, natch. They were playing “Badlands.” He saw Springsteen nod in his direction. He saw security winding its way through the crowd. He was trapped.

They stood in front of him, told him to cough up the film or hit the bricks. He did some quick calculations: He had some great shots, but it was only eight songs into the performance — and he had more film. So he opened the back of the camera, stripped the film — exposing it, ruining it. They were shocked. He smiled, said to them “no way you’re getting my images,” and, after a plausible interval, got back to work.

Coviello, who moved to Newburyport in the early ’80s, was born and raised in Lynn. He describes himself as a “failed musician.,” He’s the little boy with the accordion who studied at Lou Ames, who played “Santa Lucia.” By the time he graduated from Lynn English in 1975 and Salem State College in 1979, he had also struck out on guitar and piano. But he had also put together a serious portfolio of photographs, chronicling the local and larger music scenes.

His friends called him the archive-keeper. He shot at the Pig’s Eye, Wayward Duck, Summit, Rhumbline and Little Earl’s, among other local haunts. He shot old-school local rockers like the Catalinas, the Runners, Little Sister and the Swanky Moes, who are making something of a comeback. His portfolio also includes Tull, he shot Jackson Browne, Doobie Brothers, Orleans, Pousette Dart Band, The Clash, Dylan. And on and on.

He’s a registered nurse, a marketing and liaison officer with Berkshire Health Care in Peabody. He also works in the dementia unit at Lynn Union Hospital and, for the past 10 years, been a part-time nurse at Governors Academy, the former Governor Dummer Academy. He’s also an avid cyclist and snowboarder.

“I live 28 hours a day,” he says. “I say live or get out of the way. That’s how you have to look at it.”

He’s also the father of three daughters — Kehley, 23, who went with him to a New Jersey show in 2002; Abbey, 21, who saw Bruce in 2005; and Colleen, the captain of the championship-winning Newburyport High School soccer team, who has never seen the Boss — “She’ll get her indoctrination,” her father says.

He’s never had any formal exhibits and has never gotten paid a dime for the work, although Newburyporters with long memories may remember Erunzo Records, the used record story on Inn Street, where some of his pictures used to hang. A number his Bruce images have been published in “Backstreets,” the Springsteen fanzine, beginning in the early ’90s — including the cover shot for the 20th anniversary edition.

That’s how “For You” editor Lawrence Kirsch found Coviello. He tracked him down three years ago, when the “For You” project was just beginning. In a “leap of faith,” Coviello sent his negatives to Montreal.

Coviello has seen Bruce maybe 40 times, which might seem a little too dedicated at first blush, but not within the context of a three-decade career. It’s not quite Deadhead territory, anyhow.

His first taste was in 1978 at RPI, a college in Troy, N.Y. Over the years, his fervor for the Boss grew. He liked the “passion and the honesty” of the music. At first, it would be a few shows on each tour — Boston and Worcester, but not Providence. That kind of thing. It wasn’t until reunion tour, Spingsteen’s first shows with the E Street Band in 11-years — yes, since 1988’s Tunnel of Love Express — that he went a little mental, hitting all five shows at the Fleet Center, both nights in Hartford and the last three shows at Madison Square Garden.

Time? You make the time. Tickets? Not as hard as you might think. Bruce tickets are hot tickets, but his fanbase is a “close network of friends,” he says. And they are always upgrading: You secure a ticket, just to make sure you get in the door, then you try to find a better one. People who scoop up tickets because ... well, because it’s Bruce, and can’t make it, sell, at face value, to other people, friends, or through a exchange service — at face value, at Backstreet. Or you can spend $600 on eBay. “We take care of each other,” he says.

So, by now Bruce is a bud, right? Nah, Coviello’s just one of the millions of fans. Although he’s met him — and even “bought him a drink” at an open bar during a charity event. (Someone else in the network got that picture.) And chatted up his wife Patti Scialfa in the hotel they were all staying at. No, no, no. He met her in the hallway and asked her if she was doing something different with her hair. She was, but asked him if he was “chatting up Bruce’s wife.”

There are lots of shows and lots of pictures, and each one has a story. A “clearly irritated” Little Steven in the hotel bar at 2:30 a.m. “All I want is a banana daiquiri,” he said. A somewhat blurry picture of the Springsteen shot from below? He had just stepped off the lower stage and was walking through the crowd, stepping on the arms of their chairs.

Best shows? Aug. 24, 1999, Row 5, Fleet Center 1999. Maybe. Or the tenth night at Madison Square Garden nine months later. Why? “This was the most eagerly anticipated tour in years, a road-hardened band that had been firing on all cylinders, and is going down the home stretch, leaving nothing behind,” he says. “They were emptying their guns. That’s pretty cool.”  www.Foryoubruce.com