by Ric Teller
Encounters.
So many encounters. We’re lousy with the famous and infamous on every talk show, awards show, and special, just ask Craig. Working in the entertainment side of television, you might meet anyone from the Beatles to Bette Davis. In fact, some Beatles and Bette might both show up later in this ramble. I love when every once in a while, on the set, on location, or even in everyday life, I get surprised by an unexpected encounter.
When you watched Star Search, and don’t deny it, I know you watched. The host, Ed McMahon, made an entrance, walked downstage, and at some point, an arm raised from the audience to hand him a microphone. Sometimes that arm belonged to Val Valentin, a top recording engineer, and a friend of mixer Ed Greene. His list of album credits is stunning. An unlikely A2, Val would come and regale us with tales of his days as Director of Engineering for MGM and Verve Records, being in the studio with Frank Sinatra, and much more. It was always great to see him, perhaps never more so than at a show for Sinatra’s 75th birthday at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, where Val was escorting Ella Fitzgerald. Ever the gentleman, Val properly introduced us, and I tried not to gush like a fanboy. But Ella Fitzgerald! She and Frank closed the show together, singing a Rodgers and Hart number with the Henry Mancini Orchestra. It was terrific! That show was also where I met Ray Charles. No, not the one you are thinking of. The “other” Ray Charles. Go ahead, look him up. I’ll wait… As with Val, Ray was a true gentleman. It was a great pleasure to work with him, most often on the Kennedy Center Honors.
I met Scott Ostler recently. You may ask, who is that? I’ll tell you. He is a revered newspaper sports columnist. One of the best and funniest. His son was a contestant on America’s favorite quiz show. I work there. Scott was in the audience. I first read his work in the Los Angeles Times back when the sports section had Jim Murray and baseball box scores. He was recruited by editor Frank Deford to write for The National Sports Daily, a short-lived, tabloid-format newspaper that lasted just under eighteen months in 1990-91. For sports fans, it was terrific. Since then, Scott has written for the San Francisco Examiner. I really admire his work. It was nice to be able to tell him.
Did you ever go to The Reseda Country Club? Honestly, I don’t remember attending a show there but did work on an episode of a popular sitcom that featured the Beach Boys playing live. Well, I believe it was live-ish. At lunch, I picked up a tray with the requisite chicken-like substance from catering and took a seat in a quiet area. About thirty seconds later, a man sat down across from me. I looked up and realized that I was having lunch with Carl Wilson. We talked about baseball and other stuff, not music so much. But the whole time, I was silently shouting to myself, “You sang, ‘God Only Knows’!!!”
The first time I saw a motion picture being made, it was Stagecoach. No, not the John Wayne version. Sheesh. It was the 1966 remake, starring Ann-Margret and Red Buttons. We saw them shooting an action sequence at the very scenic Caribou Ranch on the front range of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Later in life, I got to tell both of them about seeing the stagecoach being attacked. Ann-Margret remembered how beautiful the location was. Red Buttons tried to go to catering but never got a dinner.
A couple of years later, in New York City, I saw another film shooting on location. I was with my family. We were walking back to the Americana Hotel after dinner at Mamma Leone’s and saw a crew out on the street shooting Midnight Cowboy. About ten years later, I got a ticket while driving in Los Angeles. I don’t remember the specifics, but I was allowed to go to traffic school back when you attended in person. Jon Voight was also in that class, and I told him about watching them film. We were both in an eight-hour class that included a meal break. I took John to lunch at Café Tel Aviv on Fairfax, an easy walk from the class location. It was a nice break from school, a good memory, and a tasty falafel.
In keeping with the theme of unexpected lunch encounters, I was traveling somewhere in some airport to work on some show some time ago. The layover was long enough to sit and have a bite of lunch. I ordered a nondescript chicken sandwich and moments later, a very attractive woman walked up and asked if she could join me for lunch. Yes, of course. We chatted and laughed and agreed about how interesting life can be. After lunch, we said a cordial goodbye and headed in opposite directions to make our next flights. I did a lot of shows with Naomi Judd over the years. She was a sweet person, a talented artist, and a lovely lunch companion.
At the beginning of this column, I mentioned the Beatles. So, let’s talk about their album, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. OK, let’s just talk about the front cover of that iconic album featuring the four lads in uniform and about sixty-five cutouts and wax models of people with varying degrees of fame.
I’ve encountered nine.
- Three Beatles—At the Grammys and other occasions
- Shirley Temple—Grand Marshal of the Tournament of Roses Parade
- Dion DiMucci—Sang “I Wonder Why” on a PBS ’50s music special
- Marlon Brando—An appearance on Michael Jackson: 30th Anniversary Celebration at Madison Square Garden Sept. 10, 2001
- Bob Dylan—The 2011 Grammys (find it on Vimeo)
- Mae West—Ringo and I were both in Sextette, her last movie
- Huntz Hall—I introduced myself to the original Dead End Kid who also played Horace Debussy “Sach” Jones in the Bowery Boys series. He was on the KTLA lot shooting something and enjoyed that a person from the younger generation (I was in my twenties) recognized him.
One more unexpected Beatles-related story. A few years back, I was climbing around on a band riser adjusting drum mics for a Grammys performance. The kit belonged to Abe Laboriel, Jr. He’s a heavy hitter and sometimes the mics and stands move around a bit. As I reached for one of the overheads, to give it a little love, a voice behind me asked about the placement. Without looking around, I answered that I thought by aiming the sweet spot of the overhead mics slightly away from the snare, clearly the loudest drum, it would have a better chance of hearing cymbals and the overall kit sound. At some point, mid-sentence, my words hung in the air as if they were frozen in a cartoon dialog bubble. I realized that I was discussing drum mic placement for a Paul McCartney performance with Geoff Emerick, the engineer who recorded Revolver, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and Abbey Road. I got off the riser, introduced myself, and continued the conversation with “…wherever you would like them.” He was a kind and gentle man whose gifts have enhanced my life for more than fifty years.
And more recently, at the Grammys, we were sound-checking Billy Joel and his terrific band. After all the instruments were good, the terrific music mixer John Harris requested that I ask Billy to sing something. I walked to the piano, leaned over, and asked Billy if he would sing “Something.” He did. The George Harrison song.
Each of those encounters was special. I’ve only asked to take one photo and have only requested three autographs in all my working years, but I’m very happy to hang onto the memories.
It is difficult to explain to those not in our business how specific our jobs can be. In forty-plus years, I’ve made one commercial (with Monty Hall and an elephant), and once, a long time ago, I worked for two days on a feature. Two. Total. I can’t remember the name of the movie. My career has been a combination of talk shows, sitcoms, game shows, and a lot of award shows and specials. Sometimes the crews are pretty big but often the same friendly faces appear in the hello portion of the day. When we say, “I’ll see you on the next one,” there is a very good chance that it will happen. Perhaps because of the size of the crews and the complicated challenges of doing a big live show, there is often a feeling of camaraderie. And when things go well, of accomplishment. Does that family feeling translate to episodic, features, and other formats where groups work together for long periods (both clock and calendar)? I hope so. At 35, I began playing regularly in the big-show sandbox. It was 1987, and I had been working in television for eight years. When I started to freelance in early 1985, the idea of joining that esteemed group seemed unlikely. Then some of the regulars began mixing shows and a spot for an A2 opened for me. After all, I could lift heavy things and drive a forklift, they, in turn, could make every difficult live television show work successfully under any circumstances. No pressure.
This new situation presented an exciting set of possibilities, including one that I have tried wholeheartedly to embrace. We endeavor to help our fellow crew members get to important family events, perhaps a birthday or anniversary, a child’s band concert, a dance recital, or a ballgame, we will try to make it happen when we can. Of course, sometimes (often) the timing doesn’t work out. But when it does, it feels really good.
The retirement report:
As my friend, Mr. Mays, reminds me, we are somewhere between the back nine and the walk to the clubhouse. Not being a golfer, I hope to find other ways to wisely use my time in retirement, whenever that comes. Everyone says that staying busy and active is the key; there are retirement options for nearly every interest. I’ve always enjoyed the social time aspect of work (some would say storytime) and hope to find a way to include that in my next ventures. Whenever I stop working, I will strive to maintain the close friendships that have enhanced my life. So many hellos. One difficult product of age and work longevity is the increasing number of goodbyes. Friends and coworkers who are leaving us. That is, the big leaving us, not just moving to Florida. As these passages come, it is important to be present for each other and to remember how these friends have enhanced our lives whether sharing tangible skills or teaching life lessons. I was sad to learn that two of the great engineers from my days working at KTLA have passed recently. Murray Clawson and John Cook were encouraging, shared knowledge, and pushed me to learn and become better and more valuable at my job. In addition to their expertise, they were both really good men who will be missed. I am fortunate to have known them.
My career has been a combination of talk shows, sitcoms, game shows, and a lot of award shows and specials. Sometimes the crews are pretty big but often the same friendly faces appear in the hello portion of the day. When we say, “I’ll see you on the next one,” there is a very good chance that it will happen.
At almost every awards show and special in recent memory, Margot Carlson and Kris Claver greeted us and took care of our parking, credentials, and other bits of production business. Every time it was personal with kindness and smiles. When Kris got sick, a GoFundMe page was started to help with her care. Within a few days, the fund counted six hundred donations. Since she passed, at every show I see friends wearing a credential with her photo. Family supports family. Make the time for a phone call, send a card, go for a visit, bring food, it all makes a difference. My mother often provided a dish she just called vermicelli. It is a warm, filling, comfort food gift. Mom was a terrific cook, but we always wondered how a Jewish woman from a small town in Nebraska became locally famous for her Italian-American casserole. Give a little of yourself, it will help bridge between hello and goodbye. As my sixth-grade teacher Noel Roberts closes each correspondence: “Take care of each other.”
My good friend, Robyn, believes that my ability to recall and write about this history is enhanced by AI (alta cocker intelligence). No doubt, she is correct.
Oh, I almost forgot. The Bette Davis story. She came to KTLA to be interviewed by television’s Tom Hatten. I introduced myself and asked if I could place a lav on her. She said no.