This is a story I've told often, but not one I really ever thought would be important to tell.
Back in the 70's, during some other oil crisis, I was doing a daily radio feature titled "Tighten Your Belt."
I'll be honest. It was not easy to come up with something interesting every day. But one day, whatever I did, elicited a rather entertaining reaction.
"Hey, Paul, y0u got a call on line one."
"Thanks. Hi! This is Paul, can I help you?"
"Maybe! My name is @#$#@. I own *%$#* oil. Whadda ya doin' right now?"
"Just gettin' ready to leave for the day, why?"
"Grab your tape recorder and get on down here to Combs Gates."
I need to tell you at this point that this guy had the "Voice of God." My vocal range drifts between bass and baritone, but this guy made me resemble a soprano.
But I was young and brave in those days.
"I'll be right there."
Combs Gates was where you landed your private jet in Denver. They had a small, but lush meeting room. I was told I would find my interview there waiting for me. You know, how some times, men with really deep voices, turn out to be guys about 4'8" tall in heels? Well, no Wizard of Oz in this case.
I can't be totally accurate, but I'd guess my height at the time? Oh, 6'1". Weight? Maybe 210 lbs.
Well, this owner of what he called a small independent oil company, out stood me by about 6 inches, and out girthed me a minimum of a hundred pounds.
"Sit down," he says.
I suppose I should have "high-tailed" it out of there right then. But a combination of that youth, false bravado, curiosity and out right fear, had me responding positively to his command.
Let me finish his description. He had a very ruddy complexion, arms the size of sequoias, a neck that didn't really exist.
I sat down and started to push play and record on the machine.
"Hold on," he says. "Let's talk first before we tape anything."
(Precursor of "Go On the Record.")
"Not a problem," I say.
"Why is it, whenever there is a story about oil, we always get all this rotten publicity from you guys in the media."
Well, well, well. I guess if I'm about to be cut up and swallowed by Shrek, I might as well get in some final words. So, and I can tell you from my side, this is not paraphrased. It is exactly what I said, and I guess in retrospect, since I'm still alive, glad I said.
"IT IS BECAUSE YOUR INDUSTRY IS MADE UP OF GRIZZLED OLD FARTS LIKE YOU THAT THINK IT IS NEVER ANYBODY ELSE'S BUSINESS WHAT THEY'RE UP TO."
Oh, yeah, I got the expression you'd imagine, and I was thinking maybe I should have left some nice notes for next of kin. But you know what? That grimace, very slowly turned to a grin. And following a VEEEEERY long pause he says, (unfortunately I still hadn't turned on the tape recorder) "YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT."
With that, he flew back to Texas and immediately hired a sharp, reputable public relations firm.....clearly something BP might have considered.
I think I heard from him once after that. That oil crisis ended soon afterwards, and we all got back to doing what we were doing before it started. To be honest?
I hope this gulf situation doesn't end that way. We need some good solar powered cruise ships in the Gulf.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Mea Culpa Diva
Ante-pros! Seems like a well structured and thought out oxymoron, eh?
Instead it is a short form of ante-proscenium.
Ante-proscenium is a theatre term that often describes a production element that originates off stage. Oh, lets say like a follow spot, or spot light that follows the action of key players on stage. Bored?
Well I guess I was bored too during college rehearsals of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore. Let's see, that was back in 19*^$. You see I was sitting up in this slit in the ceiling (ante-pros) above the audience. I was operating the follow spot making sure every Diva Gets Her Due.
Okay, now jump up to a week ago.
A week ago is when I was doing my fourth ever piano recital piece. It was "All I Ask of You," from Phantom of the Opera. I really wanted to shine, particularly since it was a duet piece with my Piano Guru, Rosemary Rogers. And I have to say it was going pretty well. And there was good evidence the melody was recognizable. But more on that later. Right now back to Ruddigore folo spot.
Partly because I was bored, and partly because it was just something I always did, I found myself humming along with the airs of Gilbert and Sullivan. And over time during rehearsals? By golly I memorized all the lyrics of all the parts. And guess what? I started singing along during rehearsals. Nobody seemed to notice, and I was having a ball.
Back to my recital. About two thirds of the way through "All I Ask of You?" I hear this humming from somewhere in the first row. It is a resonant, well trained hum and at first I didn't think much about it. It seemed flattering.
I was probably thinking I was flattering the light opera stars during that production of Ruddigore, but I guess not. During technical and dress rehearsals all of us technical people put on our headsets so we could hear each other and get things right on stage. It also meant the director, the stage manager, the props manager, the sound manager, the lighting guru? They were all listening to me enhance Ruddigore. And I guess they didn't like it.
They were going out of their minds trying to figure out who was doing the accompaniment. It was not helpful, they said in harsher words than those. In fact whoever it was, was "screwing up the whole production."
Not being as sensitive as I am today, I just giggled to myself and ultimately shut up. And besides nobody ever said I was flat or sharp. And in case you're wondering? No I never did tell them who that was singing along.
Well back to the recital and that flattering humming coming from the first row. It must have been pretty good humming because I started paying more attention to it than what I was doing. And as I looked at the music in front of me, D's became A's, F's became E's. And then I froze like a Popsicle. Oh, I got through it. But now in retrospect I want to express my sincerest apologies to the cast and crew of the producti0n of Ruddigore at Long Beach State in the year 19*&^%. I hope you all went on to have smashingly successful careers in opera and theatre.
(I'm going to try and not hum at other people's performances from now on. It is not going to be easy. Ye that hum know what I'm talking about.)
Instead it is a short form of ante-proscenium.
Ante-proscenium is a theatre term that often describes a production element that originates off stage. Oh, lets say like a follow spot, or spot light that follows the action of key players on stage. Bored?
Well I guess I was bored too during college rehearsals of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore. Let's see, that was back in 19*^$. You see I was sitting up in this slit in the ceiling (ante-pros) above the audience. I was operating the follow spot making sure every Diva Gets Her Due.
Okay, now jump up to a week ago.
A week ago is when I was doing my fourth ever piano recital piece. It was "All I Ask of You," from Phantom of the Opera. I really wanted to shine, particularly since it was a duet piece with my Piano Guru, Rosemary Rogers. And I have to say it was going pretty well. And there was good evidence the melody was recognizable. But more on that later. Right now back to Ruddigore folo spot.
Partly because I was bored, and partly because it was just something I always did, I found myself humming along with the airs of Gilbert and Sullivan. And over time during rehearsals? By golly I memorized all the lyrics of all the parts. And guess what? I started singing along during rehearsals. Nobody seemed to notice, and I was having a ball.
Back to my recital. About two thirds of the way through "All I Ask of You?" I hear this humming from somewhere in the first row. It is a resonant, well trained hum and at first I didn't think much about it. It seemed flattering.
I was probably thinking I was flattering the light opera stars during that production of Ruddigore, but I guess not. During technical and dress rehearsals all of us technical people put on our headsets so we could hear each other and get things right on stage. It also meant the director, the stage manager, the props manager, the sound manager, the lighting guru? They were all listening to me enhance Ruddigore. And I guess they didn't like it.
They were going out of their minds trying to figure out who was doing the accompaniment. It was not helpful, they said in harsher words than those. In fact whoever it was, was "screwing up the whole production."
Not being as sensitive as I am today, I just giggled to myself and ultimately shut up. And besides nobody ever said I was flat or sharp. And in case you're wondering? No I never did tell them who that was singing along.
Well back to the recital and that flattering humming coming from the first row. It must have been pretty good humming because I started paying more attention to it than what I was doing. And as I looked at the music in front of me, D's became A's, F's became E's. And then I froze like a Popsicle. Oh, I got through it. But now in retrospect I want to express my sincerest apologies to the cast and crew of the producti0n of Ruddigore at Long Beach State in the year 19*&^%. I hope you all went on to have smashingly successful careers in opera and theatre.
(I'm going to try and not hum at other people's performances from now on. It is not going to be easy. Ye that hum know what I'm talking about.)
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