At the no go show you could stay all day, you didn't know...what to say

First all aboard the A bus
Then to B Bus we all switch
But mixing using cheesy wipes
Gets Propel in such a stitch!

Each of the three television studios in the Communication Building had an associated control room located nearby, usually a room next door that was viewable through a thick pane of glass. Student directors could see and communicate with the talent on the floor not only via the equipment but also by simply turning their head, looking through the glass, and sticking out his or her tongue. This action conveyed such a rich spectrum of emotion and was used more than it should have been. There were no rules in place to prevent such things from repeating.

The control room for Studio 3 was a respectably-sized room and probably could have had more going for it had it not been made into a junkyard. And really, not even a good junkyard – more like a walk-in closet that needed emptying. One corner of the room contained equipment for Studio 3; surely there was an audio board and maybe a cart machine, too, though neither had been top-of-the-line merchandise in years. Opposite this was even more archaic equipment but regulated to boxes or stacked vicariously in strangely-shaped piles that wobbled when someone stomped or sneezed or even spoke.

Between all of this was a towering contraption about three-feet-square, maybe five-or-six-feet tall, and on wheels. I laugh when mentioning the wheels as I vividly recall someone trying to move the monstrosity to retrieve a fallen paper and having no luck: the wheels were either jammed, worn down, or just for decoration. The reason didn’t matter. This was the video switcher.

There were two main components of the switcher, or mixer as it was sometimes called:

• The bus, essentially a row of buttons indicating various inputs (e.g. camera 1, camera 2, VTR [video tape recorder], etc.).
• The fader bar, what was used to create transitions between the two busses.
  

Let’s make this easy by using the equipment in Studio 3 – essentially the only equipment: Camera 1 and Camera 2 – and shoot a conversation between Rachel and Brad. On the mixer bus we’ve indicated our inputs with camera 1 punched up in Bus A and 2 in Bus B (see graphic). There was a preview monitor for each input and both Brad and Rachel were properly framed and in focus: camera 1 has a shot of Brad facing left and camera 2 has a shot of Rachel facing right.

Cue talent.

In the simplest of mixers, whichever bus the fader is delegated to is active and directed toward the output source, or program monitor. On the switcher the A bus is active and the monitor shows Brad. Brad asks Rachel a question. The director instructs a switch to camera 2; this is done by the switcher operator moving the fader bar down to the B bus. Now the B bus is active; the monitor shows Rachel.

The program then continues going back and forth and viewers are subject to some sappy story of Rachel and Brad trying to rekindle their relationship. Or something like that.

The transition between the two busses varied, as it could be a swap between the two inputs (i.e. a “cut” or “take”) or something a bit more elaborate, such as dissolves or fades or the dreaded wipes. Wipes came in numerous forms: star-shaped, heart-shaped, or iris-shaped, which was a growing or shrinking circle. In all the studios in the Communication Building, as well as in all the television production rooms, were graphics machines that enabled text, basic graphics, and a compendium of wipes.

Dr. Propel hated wipes to the point that he instructed to write down one of his cardinal rules: “Wipes are cheese.” Wipes were nothing more than cheesy effects that were overused and perpetuated by those incapable of original thought. Our wipes were pretty cheesy: there was a cow wipe (the image of a cow grew to fill the entire screen with the second input), the rolling dice wipe (two die are rolled from the center of the screen, grow larger, and the second input image is seen in the dot as the cube comes closer), and the mildly-popular Peeping Tom wipe (a woman walks by an open window, is shocked to see someone peeping in, and she pulls down the curtain that reveals the other input).

In short, wipes were as cheesy as some of Propel’s jokes and mannerisms. That, and the switcher was relatively easy to use.

Now we just had to take what we learned after using all the equipment and apply it to usage outside the classroom.

That meant the radio station. Fun times were just ahead.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Switch
(Engine Alley)
Engine Alley
From the album Engine Alley
1994

At the no go show you can stay all day
You won't know no no what to say
If it's a radio show it might be better that way
There's too many people with nothing to say
You can go, you can go
Radio show Radio show
You can go, you can go

I switch on the rayjo (at a quarter to 12)
And then I switch off the rayjo (at a quarter past 12)
When I switch on the rayjo switch! switch!
I have to switch off the rayjo

At the no go show you could stay all day
You didn't know no no what to say
It was a radio show and it was better that way
There's too many people with nothing to say
You can go, you can go

I switch on the rayjo (at a quarter to 12)
And then I switch off the rayjo (at a quarter past 12)
When I switch on the rayjo
And when I switch off the rayjo
Switch! Switch!
When I switch on the radjo
I have to switch off the radjo Ho Ho

Living Room Camera

Zoom, Truck, Tilt, and Dolly
Now Pedestal and Pan
Silence in the studio
For the dancing camera man.

Midway through the semester, the Introduction to Broadcasting course switched gears and the focus went from audio to video. I remember a few people later commenting that they “liked the radio portion” of the course better “than the television.” This was sort of a misnomer, as that part of the class really didn’t focus on “radio” more than it did on “audio.” The idea, of course, was to use the lessons learned from audio production and apply them to video production. As Propel noted, “Unless you’re going into silent film, then the audio portion of the class was a waste.” Typical Propel humor.

Then, too, the discussion changed in our hands-on lab course...though I just noticed, all these years later, that the class maintained the name “Radio Workshop” even though we now met in Studio 3.

Ah, Studio 3 – such an appropriate name. You’re familiar with the comparative list “good, better, best” I’m sure. Studio 3 in the Communication Building would be the “good” of this list, though the loosest sense of the word “good” and the epitome of “third best.” I don’t know if it had been built for anything other than a training area because it was too small and too under equipped to serve in any other role. When we walked in the first time I was amazed at just how little there was: two studio cameras in the center of the room, a semi-circle of chairs around one wall, a small table that held the light controls, and decorative squares of soundproofing. Master Control for Studio 3 was in an adjoining room and was just as a sparse – some rudimentary machinery and a few more of that hard plastic swivel chairs similar to the ten or twelve in the studio.

Learning how to move the camera was the obvious lesson. To that end, our off-the-wall instructor had taken the time to put together a game in the studio that looked similar to dance steps one finds on the floor or a flowchart. I don’t know if this was something he prepared for earlier this semester or if it was a holdover from previous years, but I quickly got the impression it was not something new.

The rules were simple: there were between 40 and 50 circles fastened to the floor. One circle was green and this was where the student operating the camera would start. Another student, acting as director, sat in the control room and instructed your next move. The goal was to get the camera to one of the red squares on the floor. That seemed easy enough except Dr. Propel had changed four of the circles from white to yellow and you had to maneuver the camera to each of these four circles before you could touch a square (the yellow circles were interchangeable such that every student had a different path each time he or she played the “game”).

The instructions given by the director were either “to dolly” or “to truck” the camera.

• “To truck” the camera meant moving the camera tripod or pedestal to the left or to the right. The camera mounted to the tripod or pedestal does not move. The instruction “truck 1 to the right” would take the camera from Circle 1 to Circle 2 on the graphic.
• “To dolly” the camera meant moving the tripod or pedestal forward or backward. Like trucking, the camera itself does not move. The instruction “dolly in 2” would take the camera from Circle 2 to Circle 3 on the graphic.
  

Dr. Propel wholeheartedly supported erroneous instructions such as “truck out 4 spaces” or “dolly left 2 spaces” to see who was paying attention.

What instruction was given to get the user from Circle 3 to Circle A?

At the yellow circle (Circle A) Dr. Propel took over with the instruction:

• Pan: the horizontal left-and-right movement of the camera; the motion was comparable to someone shaking their head “no.” The tripod or camera mount remained motionless.
• Tilt: the vertical up-and-down movement of the camera; the motion was comparable to someone nodding their head “yes.” The camera mount also remained motionless.
• Pedestal: the vertical up-and-down movement of the camera tripod; the motion was comparable to someone standing on tip-toe whilst looking straight ahead.
• This leaves zoom, a control on the camera itself that allowed us to “zoom in” to obtain a closer view of something or “zoom out” to obtain a wider, more distant view.
  

So at Circle A Dr. Propel might say, “Pan right and zoom in on the picture of the man running.” We would then swivel the camera to the right – making sure to not move the tripod – and then zoom in on a picture Dr. Propel had taped to the wall. “Now, tilt up and get a shot of the ceiling.” That was easy. “Now pan down and zoom in on one of your classmates.” Okay, so...wait – you can’t ‘pan down.’ So we were paying attention...we were passing the test.

So the student director trucked and dollied the camera operator to another yellow circle where again Dr. Propel would bark through a series of orders. The idea was to give the instructions and make the movements as quickly as possible, as if we were shooting an action scene of some sort.

It made for some interesting classes at first, but, as one could imagine, it got old fast – especially when we all expected Propel’s incorrect instruction and moreso his giddy laugh when we were on to him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Camera
(Jerry DiRienzo)
Cell
From the album Living Room
1994

Flawless Microphone Check

You want to be in radio
It’s what you claim to like
But shy and silent students – no!
Best step up to the mic!

Let’s cut to the chase on the microphones (which hipster DJ-types in the know refer to as “mics”). There were three types that Dr. Propel made a big deal about early on: moving coil, ribbon, and condenser. This generally confused those who thought there was one type of mic: the hand-held.

• In moving coil mics, electricity is formed by moving a conductor through a magnetic field. A thin diaphragm vibrates in response to sound energy. An electrical current is created with a pattern corresponding to the pattern of the original sound.
• Ribbon mics have a thin metal ribbon suspended between the poles of a magnet. Sound energy causes vibrations of the ribbon that move through a magnetic field to produce an electrical current.
• Condenser mics use an electrical element called a capacitor which stores a charge. The charge is applied to the back plate of the condenser. Movement of diaphragm varies the electrical pattern on the back plate. These mics used a battery-operated power source to create the charge on the back plate.
  

If any of this went above your head then you have a sense at how out of place some of us freshmen felt. We weren’t engineers, we weren’t electricians, and we were of the mindset that we didn’t need to know this. But we were wrong and we not accustomed to the pop quizzes of Dr. Propel where we would have to diagram the difference types of microphones, detailing on their components and what made them work.

Now it doesn’t take a genius to realize that if you’re majoring in communication or trying to make a career in radio then you’re going to have to use a microphone. I say this because I think there was at least one person each semester that I was aware of that didn’t want to speak into the microphone. Really, now...you (or your parents) have paid a substantial sum of money to get into this course, you’ve gotten this far into the introduction class, and you appear to gab away with friends before, after, and during class...so why can’t you get on the mic?

Let’s see...there was this kid named Stephen Cornell my freshman year. We were both in Propel’s class – and may have been in the same Friday lab section – and he had also signed up for news. While I was on in the morning, Stephen somehow got one of the top notch afternoon “drive time” newscasts that I thought were more for students with seniority. I got the impression he thought he knew more than he really did – he may have been the one who bragged his high school had a radio station, which someone said was probably nothing more than reading off “morning announcements” a couple days a week.

I also got the impression he wasn’t as high-and-mighty as he made himself out to be: during the second or third week of my newscasts I had a visit from Troy Meadows, the news director. He was making the rounds to check in on his staff and, after giving me some pointers on the broadcast, mentioned he was glad I wasn’t one of those who had to have a reader – especially pulling a 7 o’clock shift. I was unclear on the term “reader.” Turns out there were a few freshmen that got in a little over their heads and were so nervous that they froze when it came time to read their copy [news script]. It was revealed that Troy had actually done over half of the newscasts that first week. I can understand the students being timid: this was going to be their first time speaking on the radio. No hour-long lab practicum in front of the equipment can set you up for the realization that your voice is being beamed across the city, county, and beyond (well, not that far beyond – our tower’s radiated power wasn’t that effective...).

Most people that I knew that stressed out about speaking into a microphone had their issues early on; after a few weeks this panicky mentality was gone (“weeks” sounds excessive but bear in mind most of us had weekly music shifts).

Granted I didn’t say they got better with age.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Station Question Box
Topic: Equipment, usage of
Question: Should I talk into the microphone when I’m on the air?
Answer: Radio is one of the most amazing and creative broadcast mediums in that it requires no audio to operate. This station tries not to break the “Dead Air” law of the FCC which states that “radio stations that broadcast dead-air are providing a community service.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Microphone Check
(Hollow Tip)
Hollow Tip
From the album Flawless
1998

Turn up the radio

Mix and route the audio
Through channels on the board
And if you’re running in the mud
Your pot can’t be ignored.

If I had been under the impression that I would only see Dr. Propel on Tuesdays and Thursdays then I was sadly mistaken. I would not escape the zany humor of the Introduction to Broadcasting instructor on Mondays, Wednesdays, or Fridays because those were the days I was required to attend Communication 105.04, officially known as Radio Workshop on the class schedule, and best known to us students as “lab.”

The good thing about this “class” was that soon after the semester started Dr. Propel announced that for a majority of the semester we only had to come to lab one day a week. Each of his four sections of COM 105 was divided into three and the students reported to one of the first-floor production rooms on our designated day. The word “Friday” is scrawled in a freshman hand upon my syllabus so I assume that was my chosen day. That actually worked out okay with Dr. Varvas’ history class not convening on Fridays.

These labs pretty much ran congruent with what we were discussing in our class; if the class were discussing the audio console (or board) then chances were good that our next lab would consist of some hands-on practice with the console.

Sadly, there were a lot of people in the lab and that I met over the next few years who found operating the board a daunting task. I think they were frightened off by the perceived complexity and convinced they were going to break something if they pushed the wrong button or something. Hardly. In fact, the consoles in the smaller practice production rooms were about as complex as the rooms themselves, which were more like small closets with barely enough room for two people let alone the equipment. Inside, and wired into the board, were a microphone, reel-to-reel machine, a cartridge machine, a turntable, and a CD player. All the good stuff.

One of the first things we learned about the board was its function: to mix, to route, and to amplify. Mixing seemed the obvious concept, what with the various inputs that the board operator could mix together (such as voice and music). The key thing to know was that each signal could be controlled separately to prevent, in this case, the music from drowning out the announcer.

Routing allowed the board operator to determine the path of the signal: was the signal sent out over the air (as it was in the main studio) or was it sent into a cue channel, which let the operator hear the audio source but without going over the air. The signal could also be turned off or on.

Amplification is the boosting of the audio signal to a broadcast-quality level. For example, the signal from a turntable is too low to broadcast over the air and therefore the board operator must use the console to amplify that medium’s signal.

Controlling the volume of each signal on the board – the mic, the turntable, the CD player, etc. – was a potentiometer, or pot. My notes indicate it was officially called a variable resistor but in layman’s terms it was nothing more than something to control the volume. All the older model consoles we had when I started had pots that were round knobs that the user rotated; newer model consoles had bars that performed the same function when raised vertically (these were mostly called ‘slide faders’ but were none the less potentiometers of the first order).

Part of Propel’s shtick was his frequent use of the word potentiometer in lessons and in quizzes. One of our earliest quizzes – proceeded with the direction to “take out...two...sheets...of pay-pah” – started off with the instruction to “spell potentiometer.” For the rest of the semester most pop quizzes involved the potentiometer.

I never knew Propel’s reasons for making us memorize the spelling and definition of the component but it obviously worked:

P-O-T-E-N-T-I-O-M-E-T-E-R

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Turn Up the Radio
(L.A. Greene & Roger Scott Craig)
Harlan Cage
From the album Double Medication Tuesday
1998