Features

A Profile of Courtney Goodin
Part Two: Digits and Widgets

by David Waelder

The project that shaped the direction of Courtney Goodin’s career began on a dare. In 1982, he and Laurence Abrams were working on a commercial for Members Only clothing and the spokesperson was being cued with a QTV Teleprompter. Cuing devices (then and now) work by reflecting an image of the words onto a partially silvered pane of glass mounted in front of the camera lens at a 45-degree angle. The speaker can read the text while looking directly at the camera. It’s an ingenious device but the process of scrolling the text was quite primitive at that time.

The copy was printed onto rolls of paper with tractor-feed perforations at the sides. A mechanism with motors, belts and pulleys would roll the paper from one spool to another to move text across the screen. The potential for intrusive noise was obvious and the clattering machinery was a particular nuisance on that assignment. At lunch, Courtney sat down with the prompter operator and asked him, “Is anyone making a computer prompting system?” He replied, “Nah, it’s impossible to do on a computer. Computers just aren’t fast enough. There’s no way to do it on a computer.” Courtney just said, “OK,” but he took that as a challenge.

Courtney was familiar with the graphic capabilities of the Atari computer from his experience developing the Graphic Master image-editing program that he was marketing. He thought that the advanced graphics chipset used by the Atari was up to the task but there were some programming challenges. An effective prompting system must work smoothly; glitches or herky-jerky movement would be a distraction and undo the benefit of the prompting. There is a natural hiccup as the computer periodically refills its memory cache and Courtney had to devise a workaround that would permit smooth scrolling through lengthy passages. And it was important that it scroll smoothly both forward and backward and permit quick, jerk-free changes of direction. When he had that worked out, he developed a remote control using the same boxes he had used for the Goodsound Talk Back units. An operator would be able use the remote to scroll the text forward and back and smoothly ramp the speed up and down to match the reading pace of the talent.

With the software issues largely resolved, he and Abrams, his partner in this venture, turned their attention to designing a marketable product. Courtney redesigned the camera-mounted beamsplitter and devised more flexible support hardware to accommodate 16mm and 35mm film cameras and smaller video cameras as well as pedestal-mounted studio TV cameras. Previous teleprompters were designed for permanent installation in environments like news studios but their device could be quickly attached to a wide range of cameras without adapters or a bulky three-foot base plate. They also designed a custom case that opened into a freestanding operator’s console for quick setup. They called their new product “Compu=Prompt.” It was the first personal computer-based prompting system. This accomplishment was honored with an Emmy Award in 2010.

Courtney also devised a digital dongle to provide copy protection. A dongle is a device that must be plugged in to a computer to authorize use of a software program. Very little was available at the time to protect against an unscrupulous user simply copying the software and building a unit. While the use of an electronic key to restrict unauthorized use of software was fairly common, most of these devices were a simple resistor circuit and were easily circumvented. Courtney’s use of a digital code in the dongle was sophisticated for its time.

Producers were hesitant to adopt the new device but Courtney and Laurence knew they had a winner when they wrapped a commercial several hours early. Looking back on the day, the only factor that was different was the performance of the prompter. There was no downtime for copy to be reprinted and threaded onto a roll, no crinkling paper spoiling takes, no difficulty matching pace of the copy. When they needed to re-cue to the beginning, it was accomplished instantly with the push of a button, no more waiting for the prompter to roll the long roll of paper script back to the beginning. In short, there were no prompter delays at all.

It was a triumph of clever programming and engineering. A $150 Atari computer with a hand controller and Courtney’s proprietary software replaced a $12,000 mechanical prompter and did so with much greater efficiency. Courtney was able to sell the Compu=Prompt system for $4,000, an enviable markup.

As producers became aware of the advantages of this more flexible system, demand grew and Courtney had inquiries from all over. He even managed to sell several of his Atari-powered devices to IBM! He demonstrated a prompter for the Reagan White House but had no answer for their dilemma of what to do when the President would wander off script; for someone determined to go their own way, even a prompter was no help.

Regrettably, Courtney was a much better inventor than businessman. Although he had some interest from Panavision, the industry leading camera company, he elected to license the Compu=Prompt technology to Dreamdata, a partnership with two other people originally formed to market computer video games. But Dreamdata had no vision, no data, only dreams; sales and rentals of Compu=Prompt products became their only source of revenue. After several years of increasing sales and expansion, the other partners conspired to divert that income to themselves. It took a lawsuit to wrest the rights away from his former partners and Courtney and Laurence were unable to develop the product in a competitive market until the suit was settled 2½ years later. ProPrompt, the new company they formed, was successful in the rental market but found sales difficult since the Compu=Prompt system was still being marketed by the former partners during the lawsuit. By the end of the lawsuit, it had been more than seven years since the introduction of Compu=Prompt and competing computer systems from other prompting companies had been able to establish a foothold.

The bad experience recovering the rights to his prompting invention discouraged Courtney from developing other products that would need to be built and sold. He continues to provide the C-stand to microphone adapters sold through LSC and Coffey but is otherwise out of the hardware market. Our very small market didn’t support volume manufacturing so Courtney needed to fit components into boards and solder them by hand to make his preamps and talk-back boxes. Writing software offered the same satisfaction of finding a solution to a problem without the necessity of breathing toxic fumes from a hot iron.

He would soon have an opportunity to practice those code-writing skills. He purchased a Sound Devices recorder to transition from DAT to nonlinear sound. Right away, he was frustrated by his inability to listen to the recorded audio and also see a timecode display as the file played. This could be accomplished by playing the file in the recorder, of course, but not once the file was transferred and played in a computer. When he inquired, he was told that Pro Tools would accomplish this but he balked at purchasing a $1,200+ program just to listen to his own audio and check timecode. Learning that there was no reasonably priced software to do this, he turned his attention to making his own. A healthy part of success in any venture is recognizing exactly what needs to be accomplished and what is already available. Microsoft Windows comes bundled with Media Player software that can play any standard audio file. Moreover, Microsoft permits users to devise programs that use the core features of the Windows software so long as they don’t change the control interface. He wrote code that would use the Media Player engine for the audio reproduction while reading the metadata and displaying running timecode in a large window that could be used as a digital slate. It consolidated the metadata from many files into a human readable spreadsheet-like format that could be saved to disk. He also envisioned an application that might free him from the process of keeping sound logs, a laborious process with his cramped handwriting.

The resulting software, BWF Widget, has become an essential tool for both editors and sound professionals and is now available in a suite of variations. Licensed to Sound Devices, it is the basis for their original Wave Agent program.

In the course of developing BWF Widget, Courtney confronted the problem of an absence of file standards among audio equipment manufacturers. The various companies, from Aaton to Zaxcom, would interpret timecode implementation protocols differently and each was loath to bend their practices to match the other. Acting as an outsider with no personal agenda or competitive hardware to market, Courtney helped persuade the various companies to come to an agreement on how timecode would be applied in various frame rates and at different sample frequencies. Attempting to bring order to this Babel may be his greatest single contribution to professional audio.

The limited success of ProPrompt meant that Courtney had to continue working regular sound and video playback assignments to earn a living. Recently, he has been doing the video playback for Dexter. In some ways, his need for regular work has been our gain as he is presently serving his third term on the Local 695 Board of Directors and he has served several times on the Constitution and By-Laws Committee. He continues to refine BWF Widget and remains active in the field so there is no telling where his fertile imagination may yet take us.

Facing high-stakes challenges on a big-budget digital 3D feature film, Local 695 Engineer Ian Kelly makes it sound easy as he describes the unique production workflow he designed for the film Oz: The Great and Powerful.

by Ian Kelley

The way it was…

In the days of film, everyone knew what the workflow would be, from the producers to the lowliest camera assistant. Film went in the camera, was exposed and then sent off to the lab and everyone watched the dailies the next day. Sometimes magic happened, sometimes it didn’t. But for everyone, right through post, capturing the image and manipulating it had been refined over time right through to making release prints. Not anymore. New cameras and workflows emerge on a regular basis and unlike with film, there is no one correct way to make a movie. And added to that, the massive increase of visual effects means that ways to help the process have to be invented. 3D has further complicated workflows. Pity the poor producers with only a sketchy knowledge of the digital processes involved having to make very expensive decisions. For me, the most interesting part of a project is the design and the planning. It is the time when everyone’s needs on the production have to be assessed from what cameras are being used and what the deliverables are to what the workflow will have to be in order to accomplish the needs of the production through post. I usually try and map this out well ahead of time but it frequently changes as more information emerges.

Oz: The Great and Powerful

This film, which just wrapped principal photography, is a case in point. To be directed by Sam Raimi with Peter Deming as DP, it was to be a prequel to The Wizard of Oz and would be shot on recently completed soundstages in Pontiac, Michigan, thanks to generous tax incentives provided by the state of Michigan itself. Sam and his editor, Bob Murawski, are both from the area so that added an additional incentive to go there. My job was to be production video supervisor, a post I have occupied before on Alice in Wonderland for Tim Burton as well as The Polar Express, Beowulf and A Christmas Carol for Bob Zemeckis.

My work on the production began some three months before shooting began, starting with a test shoot in April of last year. For Oz, we tested both Red Epic and Arri Alexa 3D rigs. This was over three days at Universal on their new virtual stage and we tested cameras, recording systems and data management systems.

Once the test shoot was over and the dailies viewed, it was time to really start planning workflows for both cameras and recording and the data management once the shooting stopped. The DP obviously makes the decision as to which camera system but that will then dictate which hardware will need to be used and what software management systems will be used. Oz is a Disney film and the studio is very hands-on with regard to systems management so several meetings were held to discuss the best approach.

For the test, the Red Epics recorded to on-board SSD cards and the Alexa to a portable Codex recorder and there was considerable discussion about data management. For Alice, we had recorded to the big Codex studio deck and archived to LTO4 tape. I really like the virtual filing system on that deck although the machine is a bit of a boat anchor out in the field. Online storage was too expensive at that point (the movie was shot using Genesis and Dalsa cameras— file sizes were 8MB and 16MB per frame respectively) and largely untried to that date so the movie was completely tape based on LTO data tape, a somewhat painful way of working. For Oz, because of the number of VFX shots and the need to pull clips for turnovers on a weekly basis, it was decided that we would use online storage to keep all the media available although we were still going to archive to LTO5 data tape. For data management, we tested both FotoKem’s nextLAB and Light Iron Digitals’ OUTPOST systems. Both have their strengths but ultimately, we chose nextLAB.

For the actual shoot, it was decided that Panavision would supply three Red Epic 3D rigs plus two 2D Epic rigs—two on the 1st unit and one on the 2nd unit, with the 2D rigs for VFX shots such as reflection passes. Recording was to be on-board camera to SSD cards. Both units would have 3D video assist as well as 2D monitors for use on the set.

To add to the complications, there would also be three or more witness cameras and two remote recording booths for two of the characters who would later be animated with reference camera recordings made which would be used by the animators in post. Plus we had Encodacam that tracked the camera moves and drove Motion Builder backgrounds for real-time compositing—essential when so much of the movie was shot against blue screen. Both the composite and the background plates needed to be recorded.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

Planning

All of this has to be tied together in post of course, and this is where I insisted on the use of central sync and timecode for all cameras and recorders plus sound and witness cameras. This we achieved by using an Evertz 5600MSC master clock for each shooting unit with distribution amplifiers and patch panels built in to each DIT cart. We then made custom camera looms that carried sync and timecode, left- and right-eye pictures, return SIP (stereo imaging processor) feed and 3D rig control cables. I wanted to use fiber optic links to the cameras as we had done on Hugo but production ruled that out on expense grounds. As the movie was to be shot all on soundstages, that didn’t prove to be a big deal though. I did make “all-in-one” re-clocking boxes, for long cable runs, with BNCs on each side and AJA HD10DAs inside and these worked well.

I also wanted the different carts involved—DIT, stereographer, video assist, sound, Encodacam and puppetcam—to be tied together in a logical way, with a minimum of separate cables between them, to speed up setups. More cable looms and lots of sleeving later, I am now a familiar face at Pacific Radio in Burbank.

Prepping was done at Panavision through late May and June and much liaising was needed between camera, sound, video assist, VFX, Fotokem and Disney to make sure all the details were in place. We would be shooting in Pontiac—a long way from our usual suppliers of last-minute ‘stuff’—and Production wanted to know how much it would all cost. Finally, just after July 4, we loaded a 53-foot semi-trailer full to the brim with all the gear and sent it on its way.

Shooting crew

As well as the regular complement of Local 600 camera crew (who did a first-rate job of keeping all the gear organized), we had a DIT, a 3D rig technician and a stereographer for each unit. Working with DIT’s Ryan Nguyen, who I had previously worked with on Alice, and Paul Maletich, I pushed the idea of central sync and timecode distribution as that would really help our post workflow.

Originally, the color was to be graded after shooting (and after the SSD cards had been pulled from the cameras) but our DP wanted real-time color correction so Fotokem figured out a way to incorporate 3CP-created CDL file metadata into their workflow.

Kyle Spicer did media management on-set and Bryan and Eric from Fotokem did the work off-set in day and night shifts. All three did an excellent job.

The video assist was ably handled by the Local 695 team of Mike Herron and Roger Johnson on the main unit and Sam Harrison on the 2nd unit. Mike had opted for a Raptor 3D rig with four machines—one each for A and B cameras plus one for composites and one machine for playback reference. Mike could also drive the puppetcam recorder (also a Raptor 3D in dual recording mode) and the Encodacam background recorder with the big advantage that all the files were named and he could start and stop all of them centrally for playback to the director. Naming the files per the slate and take saved me hours in post!

Mike was kept extremely busy as Sam Raimi, our Director, made good use of video assist and of reference material from editorial as much of the movie had been storyboarded.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

The witness cameras were handled by the VFX crew and were mainly used to provide shooting references for Sony Pictures Imageworks, who would be doing all the VFX work. These cameras all had Lockit boxes that were jammed on a regular basis so at least the timecodes were correct even if the files had to be named later. But the guys proved to be very good at slating shots and keeping good reports even if some of them were quite hilarious.

The puppetcam setup was very complicated. The idea was that the actors providing the voices and facial performances for the two animated characters would be outside the stages in a trailer with soundproof booths. They would watch the action taking place on stage on large-screen monitors via cameras mounted on lightweight Eurocranes cranes operated by puppeteers. It would be their character’s POV if you like. The on-stage actors would see the off-stage performers via small screens mounted on the crane arms under the cameras. The pictures came from Sony EX3 cameras mounted vertically in the booths. They shot performers via halfsilvered mirrors with the camera images flipped vertically, rather like a teleprompter arrangement. The pictures were recorded in HD and then downconverted to send to the set. It was a good idea and it worked quite well. But the twelve-foot-long Eurocranes, operated by puppeteers wearing Steadicam belts, were awkward and got in everyone’s way so we didn’t use them much. But we did use the HD recordings of the actors in the booths who mainly watched the shooting camera’s images. The director was able to watch their performances on the set as Mike, the video assist technician, was in full control of the Raptor HD recorders and could play back everything simultaneously.

We used Sony EX3 camers for all VFX-related reference material as they could take external tri-level sync and timecode. An early test I sent to Imageworks proved that Avid DNxHD115 files were quite acceptable and would be used for turning over shots. I could have hugged them all for that decision as conforming the original media to the editor’s cut would have been very painful.

Sound wasn’t a problem—it was well taken care of. Our sound mixer was Petur Hliddal from Local 695, who I had previously worked with on Batman Returns with Tim Burton and on Old School. And I’ve worked with Local 695 microphone boom operator Peggy Names many times—always a delight to work with. They were ably assisted by Local 695 members Gail Caroll Coe, also a microphone boom operator, and John DeMonaco, working as the utility sound technician.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, first off, during prep, the Red Epic cameras would lose sync occasionally. The rig techs said they had a lot of trouble with this on a previous show and here it was happening again. I had my ’scope with me and, on checking the tri-level sync through the chain, all was well except for the output of the little Distribution Amp feeding the cameras. It was low, by .1 volt, despite getting the correct level in. I had a couple of little 1×2 D.A.s with me and they solved that problem.

It then transpired that the nextLAB system could not deal with AVI or Sony XDCAM files or transcode them. It ended up being my job to deal with any files that weren’t R3D files (which became known as Altmedia) and to transcode them to DNxHD115 using my Avid Media Composer and XDCAM transcoding software.

There is a common misconception that shooting digital means never having to say ‘cut’ as digital doesn’t cost money the way that film does. I had to explain to the producers that it takes 10 hours to archive one hour of material and that if we went over 2.4TB a day, simple arithmetic said that we would need more equipment and personnel or we wouldn’t keep up. That had the effect of concentrating people’s minds so that we returned to shooting an average of 1.5TB a day. All of this was archived on LTO5 tape and kept online on network-attached storage which ultimately reached a total of seven trays of 42TB each.

A further problem arose with our Red Epics. Latency became a big issue on some tightly operated shots. The minimum picture delay was two frames with the on-board Red display. To external displays, the delay could be up to five frames, depending on the monitor. I don’t think there is any way around this with 5K sensors and 2K monitoring with the current design of the camera. Our operators always managed to get the shot, although they had to be creative about anticipating movement.

Conclusions

We wrapped on December 22 after some 108 days of principal and four days of blue screen photography. Would I do it exactly the same way next time? Maybe. As I pointed out at the beginning of this article, there is no one ‘correct’ way to make a movie with digital cameras. Color correction on-set? Not necessarily. On Hugo, all color correction was done off-set as the DP was also the operator. Pre-built LUTs were used in Black Magic HD Link Pro boxes to approximate ‘the look’ that Bob Richardson wanted. And for 3D— should you converge on-set or shoot parallel and converge in post? Both ways are valid.

Technology is moving so rapidly that what was state-of-the-art six months ago isn’t necessarily so now. Techniques that weren’t available then are coming online all the time so ‘keeping up’ is essential. But not at the expense of risk. As I said to one of the producers— making a movie is like a swan sailing across a lake. You should be able to admire the artistry of the swan gliding along on the surface without any awareness of its little legs paddling away like crazy underneath. That’s our job, to make it look easy.

by Scott D. Smith, CAS

Author’s note:

This piece is a continuation of the article from the fall 2010 issue of the 695 Quarterly, which examined the early beginnings of the Local. While there is a wide range of historical events pertaining to the Local, I have chosen to focus on the events of 1933. Not only was this year crucial to the survival of the Local (and the IATSE as a whole), but it also closely mimics our current economic situation. All of the caveats contained in forward of the previous article apply here.

1933

While it is safe to say that 1932 was not a year that would be recalled fondly by most rank-and-file workers in Hollywood, few would have predicted the events that were about to be unleashed in the first quarter of 1933.

Although the general unemployment rate for the nation had risen to nearly 25%, many who toiled on the Hollywood lots were still fortunate to be working, in some cases making more than their counterparts elsewhere in the country. However, taken as a whole, the annual income for the average worker in the film industry was nothing to be excited about. While daily or hourly salaries may have looked attractive, earnings were frequently offset by long periods of unemployment with no income at all. (This was well before the advent of Social Security and Unemployment Compensation.)

Some studios, like United Artists, made efforts early on to keep their sound crews employed when off production. This might mean that someone who worked as a First Soundman during production would end up spending time as an Assistant Re-recording Mixer on the dub stage. Second or Third Soundmen, if they had technical skills, might be put to work in the maintenance shop between pictures.

This arrangement generally worked well for both the studio and employee. It provided steady employment for sound crews, which were still in rather short supply in the early 1930s, and allowed the studio to maintain a core staff of technicians to service their productions. This meant less training of new hires, which could be a headache for the sound department heads, as they sought to integrate fresh talent into their recording operations.

Not all studios subscribed to this practice, which meant that as soon as a show was finished, the sound crew would be idled at no pay until they were hired for the next project. While the studio system of the 1930s and ’40s may have the appearance of offering a more stable income for some crafts, the reality for many workers was similar to that of today, where employment was for the length of a show only.

Photo from Vitaphone set for a George Jessel short on Manhattan Opera House set ca.1926. The CTA microphone rigging is typical of the work that would be performed by the “sound grips.” (George Groves Collection)

It was sometimes not even that if you were unfortunate enough to be fired during production, a not uncommon event!

Given all these factors, it is understandable that most crew members during this period would strive to remain on good terms with both the directors and department heads, despite production schedules that called for six- or seven-day workweeks, 12 to 14 hours a day, and no overtime. While no one, from directors and actors on down, was happy with these conditions, the alternative was equally unattractive. The studio bosses knew this and the terms were made abundantly clear to all.

Those who didn’t play along would quickly find themselves unceremoniously escorted to the studio gate and thrown into the street along with their belongings. Not even department heads were exempt from such humiliation. Should you be deemed a “troublemaker,” your name would end up on the studio “blacklist” (which was rumored to have been exchanged freely among studios). Depending on circumstances, if you were fired at one studio, you might never find employment in Hollywood again.

The New Deal

On March 4th of 1933, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, having just narrowly escaped an attempt on his life the previous month in Miami (the bullet intended for him instead took the life of Chicago Mayor Anton J. Cermak), was sworn into office. It was during this inaugural address that he famously proclaimed: “the only thing we have to fear is, fear itself.” As it turns out, there was plenty to fear…

With Democrats firmly in control of both the House and Senate, FDR wasted no time enacting a series of legislative changes that were deemed necessary to restore confidence in the U.S. financial system. The first of these was a “Bank Holiday,” instituted within hours of its passage on March 9.

This act, known as the “Emergency Banking Act,” sought to restore confidence in the solvency of U.S. banks. Similar in many ways to the action taken by our current administration, this act called for tough new reserve requirements on banks, as well as providing federal bailout money for those banks deemed crucial to the functioning of the U.S. financial system. It also removed the U.S. from the gold standard.

On Monday, March 9, all banks in the United States were ordered closed while federal examiners pored over their balance sheets to determine their solvency. After four days of non-stop grilling by the Feds, just one-third of U.S. banks were deemed sufficiently solvent to be reopened. Although just a fraction of the banks were left standing at the end of the week, the effort was largely judged a success. The effect on Hollywood, however, was disastrous.

More Pain Ahead…

On Monday, March 6, two days after Roosevelt’s inauguration (and the same day as the Bank Holiday), Will Hayes (architect of the much despised “Hayes Code”) called an emergency meeting of the MPPDA Board of Directors. This private meeting, which lasted long into the night, was attended by studio heads from most of the majors, including Sam Goldwyn (Samuel Goldwyn Studio), Nick Schenck (M-G-M), S.R. Kent (Fox), Carl Laemmle and R.H. Cochrane (Universal), Jack Cohn (Columbia), Albert and Harry Warner (Warner Bros.), Adolph Zukor (Paramount) and M.H. Aylesworth (RKO). Oddly enough, Hayes was more focused on furthering his agenda regarding the “immoral” content of current films, rather than addressing the dire economic straits facing the industry.

Despite this, initial plans for industry-wide salary cuts were hammered out among the attendees, and later presented to other studios. These called for studio employees to take a substantial reduction in salary for a period of eight weeks. Workers who made $50 or more a week were to have their salaries cut by 50%, while those making less than $50 per week would receive a smaller reduction of 25%. A minimum salary floor of $37.50 was proposed for those making more than $100/week and a $15 floor for those making less than $100/week.

However, not everyone subscribed to the “party line.” Having implemented its fourth wage reduction just three weeks previously, Universal was initially against the cut. United Artists (led by Mary Pickford and her partners), was flat out against it. And there was further turmoil as some studios later proposed a permanent reduction in wages.

The reaction from labor, including writers, musicians and actors, was swift and decisive. On March 9, at least four IATSE locals (including 695) announced that, if the studios went ahead with their plan, they would strike. Adding to this already-tense atmosphere, an earthquake registering 6.3 on the Richter scale occurred in Long Beach late Friday afternoon of the same week. The quake caused 120 deaths and $60M in damage to areas in Long Beach and Los Angeles. People’s nerves were really frayed.

While the actions of the Roosevelt Administration to restore confidence in the banking system were mostly laudable, the speed at which the legislation had been enacted left little time to analyze its effect on various sectors of the economy. Studios, already in dire straits due to falling theater attendance, relied heavily on the flow of cash from daily box-office revenue to sustain their operations. With cash flow completely shut off due to the bank holiday, even relatively solvent studios began to founder.

United Artists sound crew ca. 1928. Ed Bernds in middle row, second from left. From “Mr. Bernds Goes to Hollywood” (Photo courtesy of Scarecrow Press)

The March 14, 1933, issue of Variety succinctly summed up the total effect of labor cuts on the industry: the reductions of March 1933, combined with those of the two previous years, totaled more than $106M. All told, film payrolls at the majors were reduced from $156M in 1931, to just $50M in 1933, a staggering cut in the workforce. It was estimated that at least 90,000 employees were eliminated from studio payrolls during this period. Keep in mind, this was just for the major studios. Cuts at the independents varied, with some reporting similar salary reductions. Some, however, held out as long as possible before following suit.

(In a bit of irony that could only happen in Hollywood, a number of production companies attempted to cash in on the story of economic crisis, with more than one studio announcing plans to mount a production while it was still timely. However, on March 12, Monogram Pictures announced that their production start for Bank Holidaywould be delayed for a month. The reason cited: the bank holiday!)

Many issues arose as a result of the initial meeting on March 6th. Which employees would the cuts apply to? Would film exchange, distribution and theater employees be included in the wage cuts, or just studio workers? Clearly, some aspects of the plan had not been well thought through.

Confusion abounded as studios, actors, directors and crews attempted to sort out the terms of the salary cut. Irene Dunne, working on the RKO picture Silver Chord, refused to sign the 50% reduction without consulting her attorney, effectively shutting down production. Other actors made similar demands.

Despite these events, the film exhibition business continued to thrive for certain pictures. David O. Selznick’s production of King Kong opened in New York on March 3rd to great fanfare. Shows ran simultaneously at both the 6200 seat Radio City Music Hall and the 3700 seat Roxy Theater across the street. Crowds lined up around the block and all 10 shows were sold out for four days running, setting a box-office record. Eventually grossing $2M in its initial run, King Kong was the first film in RKO’s five-year history to turn a profit. Clearly, there were few bright spots still left in the picture business.

Labor Guilds

As the battle over wages and working conditions raged on, groups representing various studio workers became even more fractured. Actors, who had made a previous push for unionization in 1929, were anxious to establish their own bargaining group. From the previous foray made at that time under the banner of Actors Equity, six disgruntled actors met to form the Screen Actors Guild (SAG). By November of that year, they had 1,000 members, including the likes of Gary Cooper, James Cagney and George Raft.

Similarly, the writers, who felt that the Academy was nothing but a “company union,” broke away to form the Writers Guild. With rudimentary offices shared with SAG in a four-story Art Deco building on Hollywood Boulevard, both guilds made a push for recognition by the studios. Although SAG had already been recognized by the A.F. of L., the studios, still furious over their withdrawal from the Academy, refused to bargain with either entity. Another four years would pass before they would finally gain acceptance.

The Strike of July 22

Although Local 695 had been successful in signing agreements with many of the independents, as well as making some inroads into Warner Bros., most of the majors refused to budge. An ultimatum had been issued previously to Columbia Studios that if they did not ink an agreement with Local 695 by 10 a.m. on July 8, the soundmen would walk. In an effort to accommodate the studio, this deadline was then moved to the next day (July 9). The deadline was then further extended to 2 p.m., and then 3 p.m. Later, Columbia general manager Sam Briskin called to request a further extension. He maintained that the studio was signatory to the Basic Agreement, so there should be no strike. For their part, the Executive Board of 695 considered this simply a stalling tactic, as 695 was not included with the four IATSE locals represented under of the Studio Basic Agreement. In fact there were nineteen other unions or guilds working on the lots, none of whom were covered under the agreement.

In further discussion over the next ten days, Columbia (through Pat Casey, acting on Columbia’s behalf as the rep for the producers), took the position that this was a jurisdictional dispute between IBEW (International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers) and Local 695 and refused to budge. On Thursday evening, July 20, Local 695 Business Agent Harold Smith presented a formal contract proposal to the majors (as well as to independent producer Bryan Foy of Eagle Lion Studios), giving them until midnight Saturday, July 22, for an answer. The gauntlet had been thrown down. As midnight Saturday approached, with no answer from Pat Casey or the studios, a strike was called.

On Monday the 24th, Variety reported that many of the IATSE crafts would honor the action, including the Camera Local (659), Film Technicians (683), Studio Projectionists (150), Studio Mechanics (37), as well as all film lab technicians and cutters. However, the Carpenters, Studio Electricians (working under IBEW) and Musicians unions claimed they were not part of the action, and did not plan to honor it.

The major producers remained firm in their position, still claiming that it was a jurisdictional issue between Local 695 and IBEW, and planned to appeal to Washington to settle the dispute.

The studios, in a grand effort to prove that they did not need Local 695, continued production on the following Monday using replacement workers. Paramount started early that morning, working without sound, rehearsing cast members while they trained new technicians. United Artists brought in replacements from ERPI, Metro brought over men from their recording operations, replacing them with telephone and radio technicians (although they admitted they “had no idea the kind of sound it will get”). Men working under the auspices of IBEW were also transferred from other departments, some of whom already had related training in recording and broadcast operations.

The studios also placed ads in the Sunday and Monday papers urging men with broadcast and telephone experience to apply for positions. Radio appeals were broadcast and, by the end of the day Monday, more than 300 positions had been filled.

For their part, the members of Local 695 were exemplary in their behavior during the strike. Despite increased police presence at some of the lots, there were no reports of any trouble. When soundmen picketing the gate at RKO were asked to disperse by the studio police, they did so quickly. In addition, there were no reports of problems from productions working to the midnight deadline on Saturday.

The studios appeared ready to deal with the action as long as needed. They offered bunks on the lot for replacement workers, so they wouldn’t need to cross picket lines. They also culled additional staff from research operations.

Difficult Decisions

Despite the havoc unleashed by the threat of salary cuts, production did manage to continue at most studios, albeit at a much slower pace and with varying degrees of success regarding the quality of their output. While most crafts supported IATSE’s stand against the cuts, the reality of trying to survive during extremely difficult times meant that many workers were ready to cross the line to gain entry to jobs that, even in good times, might be unavailable to them. It also gave studio heads the opportunity to try to break the hold of IATSE over many of the crafts.

Two years would pass before the National Labor Relations Act would be enacted. There was nothing to stop various organizations from mounting a campaign to represent workers. It was “open season” for labor, with a variety of splinter groups claiming representation for the various crafts. Local 695, previously part of Studio Mechanics Local 37, had IBEW to contend with. As the union claiming jurisdiction over sound technicians involved in installation and, at some studios, sound maintenance, IBEW was in a prime position to launch an effort to raid the soundmen of 695.

With the breakdown in negotiations between the studios and Local 695, IBEW launched a bold effort to force the studios (and Local 695) to bow to their demands. Because IBEW controlled all electrical operations such as powerhouses, generators and power distribution (although not set electric, which was under IA jurisdiction), they were in a unique position to gain control. According to an article in the July 25, 1933, issue of Variety, Harry Briggerts, the national vice president of IBEW (and the man in charge of all IBEW locals), stated that if the producers negotiated with the soundmen (Local 695), he would “pull all his men from the studios.” He also claimed that the American Federation of Labor had granted IBEW jurisdiction over sound operations, further weakening Local 695’s position.

Studios could perhaps function without qualified sound crews but they certainly could not do without electricity. Therefore, the IBEW had both Local 695 and the producers exactly where they wanted them.

Doomsday for the IATSE

As a result, Local 695 was effectively shut out of their bargaining position with the studios. This impacted not just the soundmen, but all of the IA locals that the producers were intent on breaking. Chaos reigned. By August 14th of 1933, the number of workers who had split from the IATSE ran into the thousands. The membership of Local 37 alone, numbering about 3,000 before the strike, saw its ranks decimated to just a few hundred members.

A similar scenario was taking place within Camera Local 659. As studios backed away from direct negotiations with the IATSE, many of the cinematographers (but not operators or assistants) pushed for recognition under the auspices of the American Society of Cinematographers (ASC). As nearly every member of the ASC was also a member of the IATSE, it is unclear what the advantage may have been to the members by switching bargaining to the ASC guild, other than having their wages reduced. It also caused a significant rift within the membership, which further weakened their position with the studios.

At this point, studio owners boldly proclaimed the strike had been bust, and that production had returned to normal. (Later on, however, some reps privately admitted the strike had cost the studios about $2M in lost production time, not to mention problems caused by poorly executed work.)

The National Recovery Act

Simultaneous to the events taking place in Hollywood, the Roosevelt Administration in Washington was busy passing New Deal legislation intended to speed up the economic recovery. On June 16th of 1933, Roosevelt signed a bill creating the National Recovery Administration (NRA), charged with putting in place a set of controls for labor and industrial production. This act, which grew to affect between 4000 and 5000 businesses and 23 million workers, had a significant impact on the film industry.

In an attempt to rebuild their faltering reputation, the Academy, by now really just a representative of the studios, took an active interest in framing the rules contained in the NRA code. Over the next few months, numerous proposals were put forward by reps within the industry. Many of these related to caps on salaries as well as the ability of employers to “raid” the talent pool of other studios by offering more money. Another provision called for the creation of an “industry board” which would limit the salaries of the highest paid talent. This was not the way things got done in Hollywood and, when the code was finally released in late November, there were howls of protest. After a Thanksgiving meeting between Eddie Cantor (the head of the new SAG organization) and Franklin Roosevelt, the offending provisions were suspended. By 1935, the act itself was struck down as unconstitutional and many of its provisions were carried over into the new Wagner Act.

Local 695 and the IBEW

With their position significantly weakened by the threat of a work stoppage by IBEW Local 40, the soundmen found themselves in an extremely difficult position. Although they had managed to sign contracts with a number of the independents, the majors had (so far) successfully argued that this remained a jurisdictional dispute, and that they were simply obeying the mandate of the A.F. of L., which had given the IBEW jurisdiction over studio sound operations prior to the formation of Local 695.

With the studios allied to his cause, Larry Briggerts of the IBEW proclaimed that they had at least 2,500 men who had experience in sound (a highly debatable figure). While IBEW men had significant involvement in the installation and testing of sound equipment during the rush to equip studios for sound operations, it is doubtful that many men had experience in actual recording operations (especially since, up until 1927, there had been no recording operations!).

As a result of their influence over studio electrical operations, by early 1934, with the A.F. of L. backing them up, IBEW was able to secure contracts with many of the studios. However, the terms of the contract were less than favorable for those working under them. To entice the studios to sign, IBEW had offered a significant reduction in the wage structure as compared to that of Local 695. The studios, elated at the prospect of being able to rid themselves of Local 695, quickly signed on. This did not bode well for the men of Local 695, who, still without a contract that stipulated working conditions, would now see their wages further reduced. A dark cloud hung over the Local.

1934

By February of 1934, the IBEW had managed to make significant inroads into the studios, signing contracts for the staffing of sound operations. The First Soundmen (mixers) were beginning to see the writing on the wall, and at that point, began to distance themselves from both the IBEW and Local 695.

In early March, a group of about 125 mixers issued a statement that they were forming their own guild, along the lines of those of the cinematographers who had spearheaded the formation of the ASC into a bargaining unit, separate from the camera local. This new entity, the Society of Sound Engineers, Inc., would become the new bargaining unit for the mixers, separate from either Local 695 or the IBEW. By May, yet another organization was formed, under the moniker of the American Society of Sound Engineers, with Harold Smith (who had resigned as business agent of Local 695 in April) at the helm.

And so it went, with a new salvo in the dispute being launched almost weekly. IATSE was not going to quit without a fight. In early March, the President of the International, William C. Elliott, made a trip to Hollywood to assess the situation. According to reports at that time, Elliott’s goal was to reestablish the IATSE’s control over laboratory workers, prop men and projectionists, bringing them in under the Studio Basic Agreement. As the situation with cameramen, carpenters, soundmen and studio electricians was still in flux, he no doubt felt the best hope for reestablishing the ranks of IATSE workers in Hollywood was to focus on the crafts that were not open to jurisdictional battles yet to be sorted out by the A.F. of L.

Local 695 Rises Again

For reasons that are not immediately clear, by the end of June 1934, plans for the formation of both the American Society of Sound Engineers and the Society of Sound Engineers appear to have faltered. As of June 30, it was announced in Varietythat Harold Smith was once again helming Local 695, having been recalled by its members. Since the Local still had a few contracts to service with some of the independents, it may have been felt by the

members and Board that the soundmen had a better chance of survival if they stuck together, rather than risk a further fracturing their position by splitting some members into a guild (a plan which was not going well for the cinematographers).

It is illustrative to note the wage scale that was negotiated by the IBEW as of February 26, 1934. Note that the structure for mixers and technicians working on the lot was different for those on location. The six-hour basic rate was to satisfy a requirement imposed by the new NRA labor legislation, which called for a 35-hour week in an attempt to provide more jobs.

There was no limitation on the hours for those working on location, although the contract did stipulate that crews would be fed and housed at the studio’s expense. As a quick comparison, in 2010 dollars, this would equal about $400/day for a mixer, $299.00/day for recordists, and $225/day for boom and utility. Even with the recession raging, this was hardly anything to get excited about.

The Future

The battle between Local 695 and the IBEW would continue to rage late into 1935. Despite the hardships of the era, many of the members of 695 steadfastly refused to work under the wages and conditions as outlined by the IBEW contract. Both Local 695 and IBEW continued to petition Washington and the A.F. of L. to make a decision regarding jurisdiction, with no clear-cut mandate.

However, the International still had a few weapons they could wield in the fight, and by the end of 1935, they would put them to use.

To be continued…

Kit Cool: New Device for Boom Operators

by Tim Song Jones
Photos by Soli Jones

New devices for boom operators don’t come along very often. So when I saw the post from Marty Atias about the Kit Cool, I had to investigate.

I had started a discussion on the Movingmicrophones website (created by Don Coufal) asking about injuries folks had received because of working as a boom operator. Fourteen years ago, I had a herniated disc in my neck that pinched a nerve between my fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae causing an excruciating stabbing pain. Physical therapy made a world of difference. Having to hold up that darn pole is just an ergonomic nightmare. And with film cameras slowly We boom folk, being near the bottom of that other pole, will get no sympathy or break on this.

The Kit Cool is a telescoping vertical metal pole (23” to 48”) with a belt clip on the bottom and cradle with four foam rollers on the top. Your boom pole rests on the rollers, which allows for cueing left and right.

The weight is taken off your supporting arm and you steer with the other arm as normal. For long static takes (or if you are the one-man-band mixer/boomer), you can boom with one hand. And since the boom is just resting on the rollers, you can take it off in mid-take to boom normally with both hands and just as easily put it back on the rollers. A strap that goes around your neck and the vertical pole keeps it vertical. It is like a stripped down Fisher boom or Cuemaster; you wear it but it has no articulation or extension/retraction abilities. You can use any boom pole.

The metal belt clip has a knob that pops into a hole on the bottom of the vertical pole. The knob fits just snug enough to be easily removed, but it won’t come out accidentally if the vertical pole is pulled up. The strap that keeps the vertical pole up has a padded section that goes around your neck, an elastic section so you can cue forward and back and a “chest cushion” that goes between the vertical pole and your chest.

In actual use I found it works very well. It is a good idea to keep your “free” hand on the boom pole when you can as a precaution. It can be easily shifted to boom from the left or right side. The foam rollers create no extraneous noises when cueing. I found I could even sit down with the thing on (minus theboom pole). I purchased mine for $575 plus shipping from the East Coast (no, not a freebie for review). And I know many of you might be thinking, “Heck, I could make that” and I’m sure it could easily be done. I suppose other items could be attached as well; a flag for shade, video monitor, clip to hold the “sides,” drink cup, flashlight, iPhone, harmonica… So far the Kit Cool has been a real relief and it just might save your neck or whatever ails you.

I just wish they could come up with a better name. So far, reaction on the set has been good (I expected some ribbing but it’s worth it).

It is manufactured in France (hence the odd name) by Boom Audio & Video (www.boomaudiovideo.com) and is distributed in the USA by ATS Communications (www.coolcam.us). There is a good video demonstration on the website as well.

by David Waelder

Reaction to the antenna test article has generally been favorable. Several members wrote to say they appreciated the specific information to help guide choices in antenna selection and deployment.

Some readers with extensive knowledge of the theory and practice of radio transmission had questions about the methodology of the test procedure and the validity of the conclusions. The purpose of the test was always to examine a variety of antennas to determine how they compared in actual use in the field and to what extent variations in deployment translate into advantages or liabilities. To be valuable, a superior system should produce observable results in line-of-sight testing. An advantage that is reliably apparent only in laboratory tests may be genuine but of limited consequence for the user. Additional testing with devices like a spectrum analyzer is an effort to quantify and confirm the results from the field and is really tangential to the effort. Still, measurements and results should be consistent.

Wolf Seeberg and Henry Cohen raised some issues that relate to design advantages that may not be revealed in simple walk tests. Wolf is the proprietor of a video rental company and was, for a long time, a member of Local 695. Henry Cohen is the proprietor of a radio rental and service facility in New York and publishes an online journal on radio performance. They both pointed out that antennas with a circular polarized design, like helicals, are not desirable because they have additional gain but rather because they receive out-of-phase signals with minimal attenuation. In ordinary operation, we strive to maintain consistent antenna orientation for best results. With a belt pack transmitter, the antenna is typically vertical so we align the antenna on the receiver vertically. As the signal bounces off buildings, however, the phase of the signal can be altered just as the spin on a cue ball is shifted as it strikes the cushion. The consequences of phase shifting are usually minor but may have real consequence in a situation where the transmitter and receiver are moving. Doing car-to-car work in city streets, with signals reflected by buildings as the cars pass, is a prime example. Drop-outs may occur as multiple signals, some in phase and some out of phase, arrive at the receiver simultaneously. The circular polarized antenna copes with these phase reversals more effectively than log-periodics that are designed for use in a particular orientation.

This is a valid point; a simple walk test does not reveal a characteristic that might be a significant advantage in a scene with moving cars. And, insert-car scenes are relatively commonplace in our work. Still, this is an advantage that applies only in limited circumstances. Both the Sennheiser CP antenna and the PWS helical design are unwieldy devices to rig and deploy, at least compared with sharkfins, and are conspicuously more expensive. Since they seem to offer little advantage in an ordinary walk-and-talk, I would recommend against purchasing them as part of the regular kit unless you are employed on a cop show where insert-car work is a weekly event. But it would be well worth renting a pair for those days when moving-car work in an urban setting is scheduled.

Wolf also raised the issue of consistency of performance over a range of frequencies. The original tests were performed at 561.800 MHz in Block 21, a popular choice in the Los Angeles area. However, antennas are typically tuned to a particular frequency and may not perform optimally at other frequencies. It was Wolf’s contention that some particular antenna designs offered more consistent performance over a range of frequencies. I took several antennas down to LSC to check performance over their operational range using their spectrum analyzer. We compared signal loss over a range of 450 MHz to 700 MHz at 10 MHz intervals. Some of these designs are rated for performance up to about 900 MHz but the FCC prohibits radio-mike operation above 698 MHz.

Results were interesting. Virtually all of the designs I tested were strong at 450 MHz and exhibited a drop around 500 MHz or 550 MHz. Then they tended to recover and stay nearly flat until 700 MHz. The drop around 500 MHz was typically about 5 dB; none of the previously tested designs exhibited the larger losses that Wolf predicted. I did notice that there was some performance variation from example to example, not just from one design to another. I tested different examples of both PSC and Ramsey LPDAs and found some differences even between two examples of the same design. Observed differences may indicate some variance in manufacturing runs or it may just be a consequence of slightly different hook-up hardware. While there were measurable differences, nothing I observed would alter the basic conclusions of the earlier tests.

In the interest of full disclosure, it should be noted that this set of spectrum analyzer tests was conducted inside a building where reflections would certainly compromise results. But our observations were generally consistent with a previous round of testing done outside at a distance of 500 feet. For tests at multiple frequencies, we needed to use a bench analyzer that can simultaneously transmit and receive radio signals. The portable device used in the previous testing can only be configured to perform one task at a time.

While we were taking measurements, I also took some readings using ordinary whips to investigate the question of how much signal is lost with a mismatched antenna. This is an issue that comes up from time to time as users, with an antenna from an alternate block ready-to-hand, question the importance of an exact match. The answer is that it seems to depend on the frequency of the signal. At Block 21, the use of a Block 27 antenna resulted in a signal impairment of only 2 dB or 3 dB when compared with a properly matched antenna. It didn’t seem to make any difference whether the mismatch was at the transmitter or the receiver end; the loss was the same. But, with a Block 27 signal, the use of a Block 21 whip at either end resulted in a 10 dB loss compared with a properly matched antenna.

These challenges raised some interesting issues but I stand by the broad conclusions of the earlier article with one modification. The circular polarized antennas do seem to offer a genuine performance advantage while moving in an urban environment.

A brief reprise of conclusions is in order:

1. Higher gain antennas offer improved performance but the range advantage is only about 20% or 30%. No antenna doubled the effective range.

2. All of the log-periodic designs seemed to offer a similar performance advantage relative to 1/4 wavelength whips.

3. In an open environment, a good dipole antenna, like the Lectrosonics SNA600, yielded very nearly the performance of the directional sharkfins. But the directional antennas may offer an advantage in a crowded RF environment by restricting unwanted signals.

4. There was a small performance benefit to wide diversity spacing.

5. Performance was improved when the receiving antennas were raised for clear line-of-sight to the transmitter. However, once line-of-sight was achieved, we saw no further benefit from additional altitude.

6. In normal usage, helical and circular polarized antennas offered no identifiable advantage over log-periodic designs. However, circular polarized designs offer an advantage when moving in an environment that reflects radio signals.

Acknowledgments

As always, I am indebted to Coffey Sound, Professional Sound Corp. and Location Sound for the loan of equipment to test. And special thanks are owed Location Sound for the use of the test bench and to Victor Solis for his operational skills. I should also note that Henry Cohen’s criticisms were in response to my request on the Lectrosonics User Group. Errors and omissions are mine alone.