ENGINEARING REPORT
In his column on "sound labels" past and present ("Behind the Scenes," April), Bert Whyte recalled RCA's Chicago Symphony/Fritz Reiner recordings in the 1950s and 1960s. I was the second engineer on all these recordings, and I have a few insights that might prove of interest.
Let me first explain what my duties were. The equipment would be sent in from either Boston or New York--most of the time in the middle of the night, just preceding the day of the recording. Dick Bayne, our maintenance engineer, and I would arrive at Orchestra Hall at about 4:00 a.m. and set up.
Dick would line up the tape machines and equipment; I would be responsible for the mike setup, which was always the same (Lou Layton and Al Pulley determined the original mike setup). The New York crew usually arrived at about 8:45 for the 9:00 a.m. session, put on their white gloves, and we were ready to roll. Once in a while, Jack Pfeiffer or Dick Mohr would ask me to raise a mike a quarter inch or so. I would run the tape machines during the recordings.
Bert Whyte spoke of the rich patroness who donated the money for the 1965 restoration of Orchestra Hall. If I'd had her money and was paying what she did for her seats, I, too, would have been glad to donate $3 million for the rehabilitation of the hall. It was the greatest hall in the world for the recording of classical music, but, granted, it had its faults. Those in the hall's first five rows not only broke their necks looking up if they wanted to see the orchestra, but heard very little of the concert. Orchestra Hall had more than its share of "dead spots"; as good as it was for recording, it was just as bad for the audience.
When it was announced that the hall was going to be renovated, RCA engineering sent out the head of their acoustic labs to make measurements.
His name escapes me, but I remember that he originally came from Arlington Heights and had gone to the schools my kids were attending. I went with him to assist. If memory serves me, Mr. Whyte is right in his comments on the hall's new measurements. After the restoration, the two of us went back to the hall to see how it had changed. We just couldn't believe our findings. Of course, we knew it was the end of Orchestra Hall's recording days.
About this time, RCA was having trouble with Arthur Fiedler and gave thought to making the Chicago Symphony its pops orchestra. A Saturday night pops concert was arranged, with Morton Gould conducting. If it was successful, Gould was going to be appointed "pops conductor." During the morning rehearsal, I recorded with a mono 350, as allowed by the union.
Gould came off the stage with tears in his eyes. He knew that his career with the Chicago Symphony was over before it had started. We went back to our studios to give a listen. We were the two saddest people alive.
However, RCA had one last session after the restoration. Before the session, they tried laying 4 x 8-foot sheets of quarter-inch plywood over all the seats and along the walls to liven up the hall. It didn't work. That's when we went over to the Masonic Temple.
It, too, was very dead until Roger Anfinson, who replaced me as second man, came up with the idea of placing the mike up in the dome and feeding the output back as echo. This made it suitable for recording. It is my understanding that EMI booked the Masonic three times, and their efforts were cancelled because of the poor sound they were getting. It was then that a musician in the orchestra told them about RCA using the mike in the dome.
I spent some 30 years working for Columbia and RCA. I was the first engineer outside of New York hired by Columbia when it was bought by CBS. Bill Savory broke me into recording in 1938. I was with Columbia a year before I was called into the army. When I returned, the LP was just coming into being, and Peter Goldmark came out to Chicago to teach me LP mastering.
About the same time, a fellow by the name of George McProud came through Chicago to tell us about a new magazine he was starting, Audio Engineering. McProud asked me to write about mastering. A few years later, I was tired from Columbia on the pretext that they were going to get out of the record business before TV put them out. Many years later, Al Pulley told me it was a setup to get me over to RCA, so I could teach them something about LP mastering. It was something they'd cooked up over a monthly luncheon.
In April 1972, we were given notice that our studios would be closed in two weeks. A vice president from New York came out to Chicago and tried to talk me into staying with RCA. But I decided against it. My last date was with The Supremes.
I stayed on alone to close the studios. During those last months at RCA, I was so busy working around the clock doing overdubs that I had my 14-year-old twins come down to the studios and run the Ampex blockbuster 16-track. I showed them how to "punch in and out" while I took a nap. I walked out on my birthday, August 18, 1972.
The party was over.
(adapted from Audio magazine, Aug. 1989; by WILLIS CONNOR )
= = = =