@What Rigger? Do you remember when one of the late night show hosts used to do his opening monologue in front of a large, glass-less, window frame; he'd be standing there with a bunch of books or plaques, read the first one,
throw it over his shoulder, the sound guy'd
play a clip of glass breaking and the host would read his next item. If he got a laugh, he'd occasionally put it back on the bottom of his stack to read again; anything that didn't get a laugh got heaved over his shoulder. Sometimes items would sail through the frame, sometimes they'd fall short, occasionally they'd sail past the frame totally missing it; nearly every item he tossed got the shattering glass
effect. If the sound dude was sharp, and if the item missed the frame, the host would wonder why the glass didn't shatter then look around, see he'd missed the frame and either ignore it or retrieve the item and give it a second heave.
For three or four consecutive years a week long God botherers' convention played our city's largest soft-seater. The first year the
house crew worked the gig, one day of set up and rehearsal followed by six days of 8:00 a.m. 'til 11:30 p.m. or midnight. The days were long, tedious and boring. The God botherers blew through coffee breaks, lunches and dinners bringing in tasty boxed meals for their attendees and bringing the crew cold coffee and donuts, if we were lucky.
The first year the
house crew worked the gig, all succeeding years none of the
house crew made themselves available. Several other crew members would take turns sitting in the enclosed lighting booth trying to stay awake and collect their overtime. Too many years I ended up sitting in the centre of
orchestra level initially baby-sitting the Neve progressing to a
Yamaha PM3000-40 by the last year I worked there. Every morning at 8:00 a.m. began with a host / MC speaking for 15 or 20 minutes listing the events of the day; some events were mandatory while others were more geared to girls, or guys, or intense bible study, or, or, or. Every morning's monologue featured a bag of goodies included as gifts for all attendees and the MC of the day would pick items from the bag and extol their virtues, usually placing them back into his bag or piling them on the
stage next to him. One morning a new MC materialized, plucked items from his bag, sung their praises, then tossed them over his shoulder in the manner of the national night show host. At home I owned the "Hollywood
Edge"
effect library on CD's. My library contained the exact clip of shattering glass as was used on the late show with Letterman or whoever the host was. The next morning I brought a player loaded with several clips of the very same shattering glass hoping the same MC would materialize again. This year the God botherers had assigned a teen age sound geek to live next to me in the tight confines of my booth in case I fell asleep or otherwise was unable to carry out my duties. The morning after the semi-comedic MC, I dragged myself in 30 minutes earlier than anyone else, made a space for my player on a box next to my knees below sight lines, picked an input. blew the
effect a few times, adjusted EQ and set a
level all before anyone else rolled in. A couple of minutes prior to 8:00 a.m. my student baby-sitter rolled in and immediately asked what the new piece of gear did. I
fed him some baffle-gab and prayed for the easy going host to appear. A couple of long days dragged by without the easy going host appearing. One morning my favorite host rolled in and he stacked his first few items on the floor; finally he plucked out a
book, expounded upon it, then heaved it over his shoulder. I seized the moment and cued the shattering glass
effect at an attention commanding
level, go
BIG or go home. The kid next to me dang near shat himself. The host was initially startled, then fell right into it, giving his spiel and heaving his books. Again and again I nailed the
effect. Again and again the kid next to me shat himself. The MC began playing it up, doing his spiel, then trying to fake me out by feigning a toss but hanging onto the item and faking another two or three tosses before finally letting it fly. I played along with him and matched him toss for toss; we were never closer than 50 feet but we developed a rapport. A few days later he appeared for another morning and we picked it up right where we'd left off. The kid next to me died a dozen deaths; it was the only year I enjoyed their annual visit. One more
happy memory of MiniDiscs.
Toodleoo!
Ron Hebbard