by Ric Teller
Plenty of people were upset when one of the NFL playoff games aired exclusively on Peacock, a pay streaming service owned by NBC. We chose to watch the game which cost just a few pennies more than a Grande Oy Veh Latte at your local coffee vendor. It was not our first venture into the Peacock world. We are big fans of the Tour de France, an amazing bike race and an equally special television broadcast. NBC teased us with a few days free, then streamed the rest of the twenty-one days of competition on Peacock. Of course, like so many in our business, I had plenty of time to watch the tour last year. In a business that can be tenuous in normal times and was very difficult in COVID times, the complications of dealing with the emotional and financial ramifications of strikes by the actors and writers brought unprecedented challenges with few simple answers. Our business is changing and I’m not ashamed to say that I’m glad to be near the end of my tenure rather than just starting out.
I’ve only walked a picket line on one strike. In 1985, the bargaining unit at KTLA, represented by Local 695, was not able to reach a contract with management. Negotiations were contentious, and eventually, time ran out. We carried our signs across the studio entrance/exit on Bronson Avenue from early in the morning until after the KTLA News at 10 was finished, and the parking lot had emptied. Memories are scarce from that long ago, but I do remember one evening I was picketing with a couple of engineers who told stories about being part of the team that covered the atomic bomb broadcast in 1952. The government and the networks enlisted television pioneer Klaus Landsberg who, along with John Silva, the inventor of the Telecopter, planned and implemented the setup of microwave hops from the Nevada desert to Mount Wilson. Some locations were not reachable except by helicopter. Engineers were flown in and camped out. With little preparation time, they successfully broadcast the bomb test not only on KTLA but shared with all the networks that provided nationwide coverage (where available). The one location where you couldn’t see this live event was nearby Las Vegas, where television was still a year away.
It’s true that I’ve had more than my share of storied tales, but nothing like that jaw-dropping adventure. After picketing for a month or so, our strike was settled, but by then, I had made the difficult decision to leave my staff job and try the freelance life. The experiment is still in progress, I’ll let you know.
More From the Wayback Machine.
One day, exactly forty-some years ago, Hector Highton, who was in charge of sports and stagecraft at KTLA (Channel 5), took me aside and told me that almost all that I needed to know to do my job, I would learn while working. He was a professional hockey player who had a proverbial cup of Tim Horton’s coffee, playing goalie for the Chicago Blackhawks. The story I heard was that Hector came to KTLA to work on an ice skating show called Frosty Frolics, but that was before my time. Actually, it was before my birth. He believed education could be helpful, but our work is so specific that gaining knowledge from experienced coworkers would be most important. In 1979, the education I brought to KTLA consisted of some music classes and a couple of years as a part-time student in the recording engineering program at Golden West College in Huntington Beach. In some ways, Hector was absolutely right. I had no television knowledge, the only time I had been in a studio was to see all-star wrestling live at KHAS TV in Hastings, Nebraska. My adopted grandmother, Nellie Fergus, was a fan and decided the family should go. We cheered and booed the antics of Jack Pesek, Mad Dog Vachon, Haystack Muldoon, and the incomparable Verne Gagne.
As I think about it now, in some ways, the tools I brought to the job were beneficial. My musical background was helpful in that I knew how instruments made sound and how to capture it, although I had questions about how to mic uilleann pipes. Golden West College had a recording studio and when I finished classes there, I knew a bit about signal flow, patching a studio, editing audio tape, and operating some of the basic gear. Not ready for primetime, but certainly a reasonable start. Additionally, I could drive a forklift, a skill learned from my days working at an NC+ corn processing plant in Nebraska. There are still places that offer formal education in television, and many online resources have become available. Not long ago, I downloaded Shure’s Wireless Workbench 7, a free software for RF spectrum management, and much more, then watched several tutorials giving me a basic overview of usage. But to Hector’s point, my on-the-job education from the amazing and generous engineers at KTLA afforded me a great beginning to this unexpected career. I will always be grateful to them.
In case you didn’t know. Casey Weiss, Local 695 Director of Education and Training, manages a wide variety of interesting programs. Check the calendar on our website to see what is available: https://www.local695.com/education-training/
At KTLA, we had complete interchangeability within the engineering unit. You could do audio, camera, video, tape, TD, or any of the various engineering jobs to keep the station on the air. A great idea in theory, until one Saturday morning when I was scheduled to be in Master Control. By that time, much of the station was automated, but my shift included a UCLA basketball game scheduled to be received on the Scientific Atlanta dish that was sitting in the parking lot. As was the procedure, I checked the satellite order, in those days it was on paper, moved the dish to the correct position, and dialed up the assigned transponder. A while before the game, bars and an identifier were supposed to appear. It didn’t. Thirty minutes out … nothing. Fifteen minutes … still nothing. At that point, I telephoned Hector Highton (those of you who knew him can imagine how much I was looking forward to that conversation). He informed me that the transponder number had been changed and I should have received updated paperwork. We agreed that I should have received the new information. I didn’t. He gave me the updated details and I accessed the correct transponder. The proper signal appeared with minutes to spare. Go Bruins.
Neither rain, nor sleet, nor hail, nor close lightning strikes, nor really close lightning strikes, could keep us from putting mics on the banjos, dobros, guitars, mandolins, and more banjos at the 50th Telluride Bluegrass Festival.
Lightning science: Whenever lightning strikes, it heats the air to nearly fifty thousand degrees. The rapid expansion of the heated air produces a sonic boom that we hear as thunder. The explosion blasts apart the oxygen O2 molecules. As the air cools, the oxygen atoms get paired back up, but some groups of three form into ozone which has a very distinct odor, reminiscent of the #19 sandwich at Langer’s Deli. Ahhh, the smell of lighting.
The Festival job is not a sprint, it’s more of a marathon. We presented thirty-two performances in the four show days and although it is a bluegrass festival, quite an interesting variety of musical styles are offered. Each day, the music begins by 10:30 a.m. (although we often rehearse an act or three before that) and ends near midnight. The Festival is a very well-attended music event, not a television show, there are no cameras or production trucks involved. Each performance is a full measure running an hour or more, sometimes quite a lot more. The terrific audio crew gathers from New York, Colorado, Chicago, Baltimore, and Los Angeles, members of Locals 1, 22, 100, and 695. Thanks to Skip Kent for inviting me to be part of this wonderful event multiple times.
The covered outdoor stage in Town Park gives performers (and crew) a breathtaking view of the surrounding mountains.
Yes, the days are long, but the music is terrific, and the crew is a special group.
Like any 50-year-old event, traditions have been established and are honored to the best of our ability. This year, we were treated to Chris Thile, Béla Fleck and the Flecktones, The Peter Rowan Band, who decided to add drums just a few minutes before their set began.
Microphone digression: Dear music mixers, the music A2’s would like you to know that our bottom snare mic of choice for live events is a Sennheiser e604. It attaches well, does not require a mic stand, and once in place, will not move about or flip over. Thank you.
Performances from Nickel Creek, Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Punch Brothers, Emmylou Harris, Robert Plant, and Alison Krauss, and many more added to the fun.
The Telluride House Band gave us an amazing set from the legends: Sam Bush-mandolin, Béla Fleck-banjo, Stuart Duncan-fiddle, Jerry Douglas-dobro, Bryan Sutton-guitar, and Edgar Meyer-upright bass. A few years ago, we were talking to Edgar about his bass, built by Johann Baptiste Gabrielli in 1769. He immediately responded, “It’s not my bass,” then went on to explain that he, like many others before him, is just the custodian of that magnificent centuries-old instrument. When he is finished playing it, someone else will become the caretaker. A remarkable outlook from a supremely talented musician.
It’s true, I do have a fondness for music specials, especially big live shows, and I’ve been very fortunate to take part in some really fun, challenging events. When the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame opened in Cleveland back in 1995, they threw an unforgettable concert at Cleveland Municipal Stadium (The Mistake on the Lake). The show, all 7½ hours, was a combination of Hall of Fame members, future members, and a few acts that were popular at the time. I could list each performer, but it would make this ramble look like the papers I wrote for seventh-grade social studies (any long list to help expand the word count). On a personal note, I was very happy to see that Al Kooper was inducted last year. He has always been a favorite of mine.
Another special I enjoy is the Kris Special at The Way Station Coffee Shop in Santa Clarita. Open every day but Tuesday.
The route for this summer’s Tour de France has been set. The Grand Départ will take place in Florence, Italy, and because of the Paris Olympics, the final leg will be in Nice, France. Skip the Starbucks, save your pennies, and pay the Peacock for this wonderful event.