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C A S Q U A R T E R L Y S U M M E R 2 0 1 7 37 You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up Coming originally from music recording, but after moving mostly to television, I felt truly honored to have mixed the Grammy Awards on air for more than 30 years. In the beginning, I mixed all but the orchestra myself, both production and music groups (the orchestra came to us from a local studio). Eventually, a music truck was added but I continued mixing production and shared the music. One year, when the Grammy Awards came from New York's Radio City Music Hall, the show honored a nominated opera singer. On the Wednesday prior to the show, the Academy held a special event for this opera singer. A performer, a big fan of both opera and the nominee, sang the same aria he would sing on the broadcast. For the show, there was an 82-piece orchestra on an elevator, several floors below the stage. At the proper time, the orchestra was raised to the stage where the honoree was to sing his signature performance of this well-known aria. This mix was on my dance card. Grammys at the Opera Years ago, I was production mixing an episode of a TV series, and noticed an addition to my sound cart when I returned from lunch. Some idiot had left a half-filled ceramic mug of old coffee right in the middle of my cart! In anger, I flung the offending object into the nearest trashcan. About 20 minutes later, an older crew member (maybe a grip or electrician?) walks up to me at the sound cart and asks if I knew where his cup was? I pointed to the trashcan, and then began to give him a serious reprimand, along with a lecture about why one NEVER puts anything spillable on the sound cart. I made it extremely clear to him that should anything or anybody cause that cup to tip over, it could possibly ruin a lot of expensive electronic recording equipment— forcing us to shut down for a while, as well as costing thousands in repair charges. The old man obviously got the message, and looked down sheepishly. At that moment, the DP tapped me on the shoulder. "Do you know who that is?" I shook my head. "That's Aaron Spelling." At that point, all I could mumble was "Ooops." (I actually used other language, but not nice to print.) Extending my hand to the DP, "Well, I guess it has been nice working here. Hope to see you all in the next life." Aaron smiled and then laughed. "Fred, relax. I can see that you were actually looking out for MY BEST INTEREST. You're right, leaving that coffee there was a dumb thing to do. Now, everyone, go shoot me a show!" Although I had received many a paycheck from him, that was the first time that we ever met in person. Happily, I did continue to receive many more checks from him over the years. –Fred Ginsburg CAS PhD Don't Leave Coffee on My Cart! This Really Did Happen Can I say from the outset that I am not superstitious at all but I was working on a movie in the depths of South Wales in the U.K. last year. The location was an old manor house and was reputed to be haunted by the ghost of a young girl. We had set up the cart in the billiard room and on about day three, I sat at the cart when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned round but there was no one there. Strange I thought, must have dreamt it. About 10 minutes later, both the boom op and I watched a Rycote windshield roll about two feet along the billiard table which is an absolutely flat surface. When we told the housekeeper, she just said that was the dead girl just checking us out. –Malcolm Davies A.m.p.s. CAS Now, during rehearsals and the broadcast, I am joined by a senior member of the Academy Broadcast Committee, one of the most successful and respected record producers, a Juilliard graduate musician and an old friend. He spoke to me for three days about the great surprise for the opera honoree as this singer performed at the Grammy event. Skip ahead to Grammy show day. Either shortly before or as we went on air, production called the truck and announced the singer was unable to perform that evening. After hearing about the Wednesday performance for three days, without much hesitation, I turned to my friend and suggested, "Why don't you have the singer who performed at the Grammy party do it." Almost immediately, someone came to the truck for the rehearsal recording of the opera orchestra to see if the key would work for that performer. Once again, I guess you know where this is going. The person who sang at the Grammy party stepped in, sang the aria, and the audience went wild. If you happened to see that program, that singer and opera fan was Aretha Franklin, the honoree was Luciano Pavarotti, and the aria was "Nessun Dorma." The friend that always sat with me was Phil Ramone. You know, you just can't make this stuff up. –Edward J. Greene CAS