Happy Birthday, Steve M

I'm not "mic-shy" because of this man.

I've told this story before, including his classes because he teaches, and I've co-taught with him and guest-lectured, he's gotten me work, I've gotten him work. We've shared a lot of joy and pain together, and we've run parallel lives since we first met.

Which was college. 1975, right before Fall Quarter, I believe.

I was going to be taking a Communications 360 , which was billed "Introduction to Broadcast Writing and Production." In it, we were going to be working at the radio station on the UW campus, KCMU (90.5 FM--10 watts of POWER! It's now KEXP, at a new place, a new frequency). I walked into the station, which was a bit disshevelled--there was a couple of long tables, with strong oak wood-chairs--all strewn with newspapers and ripped, curling pieces of paper, a wall of cabinets, an ancient AP news-ticker, and the studio, which was two rooms, separated by a double-paned glass window.

I would spend an inordinate amount of time in those two rooms over the next two years.

I had scanned the room, and a head popped out of what I would learn was the Control Room.

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked the head with large glasses, black curly hair, and a Groucho-esque moustache.

"I'm going to be taking this class in the Fall..."

"Y'are? Good! I need a news-cast at the bottom of the hour."

"Now?"

"No, in ten minutes. I need a news-cast five minutes long and you're going to do it. Go gather the news, put it together, and I'll point to you at half-past."

".......where do I get the news?"

"That AP machine by the wall. Just 'rip and read.'"

So, I got to work. I didn't know if he was a teacher, a student, or what...but he needed a news-cast and he asked me, so I was going to give him a news-cast. I went to the AP machine that chattered away, the first of many in my career. That machine would spit out a bulletin that Elvis had died during one of my music-shifts, and I immediately switch-backed the show, and turned it into an Elvis tribute, and before I knew it, the studio was filled with Communications students who just wanted to hang out, and talk Elvis and play records and be a part of a small acknowledgement of the passing of History. I'll always remember the looks on their faces--confused, sad, not entirely believing it, working through it. Elvis was dead. Man, that was big!

I was reading news blurbs, found the latest weather report, some slugs on sports, went through and pre-read everything a few times over, checked names and what was easy to say and what wasn't--made corrections. I think I was ready. I went into the booth, still reading over things. Steve was behind the glass, filling out the "log" for the FCC, pulling out records for after The News (with Me). I didn't pay much attention--I had a news-cast to do!

Another thing: I almost took a radio class in High School. But, I quit after the first day. Too much work! Jeez, I needed to graduate, I couldn't spend all my time doing that! So, now, here I was, again. If I could travel through time I'd tell 1975 Yojimbo, "Hey, kid! You were right the first time! But do it anyway, it's a lot of fun."

Plus, you'll have a friend for life.

Steve came out of a song, talking over it as it faded away. I put on a pair of big, clunky hard-plastic gray head-phones, and watched him turn it over to me, and I started reading. There was no "Here's the News!" No "Hi everybody, I thought maybe you'd uh...want to hear what..uh..was going on..." No "Good evening Mr. and Mrs. North and South America and All the Ships at Sea, Let's Go to Press! FLASH!" No preamble. News. For five minutes. I looked up at one point and Steve had left, probably to grab a cigarette. I was all alone. Just me, and absolutely no listeners. I read for five minutes, with I'm sure a few stumbles which I don't remember, but I kept going and about 20 seconds from the end started giving the forecast for "Seattle, Tacoma and vicinity" and I was off. Before I could say anything else, Steve was back on mic, thanking me and we were back into records. "Nice job!" I looked at him, like he was crazy. "I didn't have a chance to be nervous!" "No!" "I wanted to do a good news-cast." "Good!"

That's how Steve does things. No fear. No doubt. Throw you in, both feet. He still teaches that way. "We learn by doing." Not by talking about it. Do it.

I've never been "mic-shy," ever. But I've recorded hundreds of people who are, some of whom you'd think shouldn't be. I've seen people freeze in front of the microphone, paralyzed. I've seen them staring at the thing and babbling, unable to put two words together. But not me. Hit the mic switch and I cool down. I can talk, ad-lib, get comfortable--I'll freeze in front of a camera, but never a microphone.

Because of Steve.

It's his birthday today--what is it, 53? That's his wife Nancy, who's nowhere near 50, affectionately crowding into the picture, although at the time they were still BF-GF. They have a smart, devoted son named Kenneth, who seems to be wiser every time I see him.

Nice job!

Happy Birthday, Steve! And thanks! This is the only microphone available to me to broadcast this.