Writer, Broadcaster

Tag: Wayne Richards (Page 1 of 2)

“Birth” of a Radio Play

One of a series of posts about working in radio back in the day.

(Here’s some more).

Phil Akin, Rob Sawyer, Michael Lennick, Joe Ziegler
recording “hubbub” for the CBC Radio play Birth

We spent a few weeks flinging notes back and forth, refining the script for our radio play Birth. A couple of sample notes:

Page 7, Line 3: Does Juan always say “goddamned” bugbots?  This is twice in a row.  Now, if he says it every single time, that could be funny…


Is there any reason why Dr. Askwith couldn’t be a woman?  To balance the cast…

(I didn’t realize at the time that the character was an homage to producer, writer, interviewer Mark Askwith of Prisoners Gravity and Space Channel fame.)

After signing off on the final polish we began to ready Birth for production. Michael Lennick, co-writer of the play with Rob Sawyer, let it be known that he was interested in directing it. Considering his background in television and film production he would have made out just fine. Where he might have lacked the grammar of radio drama production I could easily have helped out. But I was producer of the project. As such, I had the right to direct it. Because it would constitute my first opportunity to direct a radio play, and because I’m a selfish bastard, I wasn’t about to pass it up. I hoped it would be a stepping-stone to more such projects.

I explained this to Michael. He took it graciously.

Casting Director Linda Grearson helped us land some fine actors, including Phil Akin (The Sum of All Fears), Joseph Ziegler (founding member of Toronto’s Soulpepper Theatre), Jean Yoon (Kim’s Convenience), Andrew Gillies (later of Orphan Black, and who had been featured in my adaptation of The Cold Equations), Brenda Robins (Heartland), Jani Lauzon (Saving Hope, A Windigo Tale, and with whom I had worked on Six Impossible Things).

It typically takes one day to record a full cast for a half hour radio play such as Birth. On cast day I felt confident. Wayne Richards was my recording engineer. It was good to have a friend at the controls. The ebullient Rosie Fernandez was our Associate Producer. Such a positive presence. Michael Lennick, Rob Sawyer and I sat with Rosie behind the credenza in Studio 212. I would be able to consult with both Michael and Rob about the script if need be. I had spent several years watching various directors do their thing in this very room. If they could do it, I could do it. Right?

The cast of Birth: Jean Yoon, Phil Aiken, Joe Ziegler, Andrew Gillies

How hard could it be?

Harder than I expected.  

Wayne opened the mics on the Euphonix System 5. He hit record on ProTools. We did a take of the first scene. Afterward, I didn’t feel we’d gotten what we’d needed. I went out to the main floor of the studio to sort it out with the actors, among them Phil Akin. I knew Phil a bit, having worked with him before. I’d cast him hoping that along with being a talented actor his (relatively) familiar presence would help put me at ease.

Phil happened to have a Black Belt in Aikido. Once, I’d overheard him offer up some martial arts advice: “In a fight, the first thing I’d do is kick my opponent in the inner thigh. Give them a Charlie Horse. It would hurt like hell, disable them right away.” It so happened I was studying Matsubayashi Ryu Karate at the time. Once, at the dojo I attended, a black belt had asked me if I’d ever experienced a Charlie horse.

“No,” I said.

“You should,” the black belt told me. “So you know what it feels like.” Without warning, he kicked me hard in the inner thigh, giving me a Charlie Horse.

The pain was excruciating.

 So, I agreed with Phil on that point.

One of the shows I’d worked with Phil on had been an episode of The Mystery Project. I’d been the recording engineer. I’d had an issue with the first take of the first scene on that production too, but the problem had been technical. Something wrong with the quality of the audio. The actors had all sounded off mic. After confirming that nothing was wrong with the console, I checked out the Dead Room where Phil was waiting around the MS stereo microphone with the other actors. The problem was immediately obvious.

“Did you figure it out?” Phil asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Someone hung the microphone backwards.” (It might have been me.)

Phil mimed smoking a cigarette. Not just any cigarette. “Have another toke!” he said in strangled voice.

Back to the recording of Birth, shortly after the first take of the first scene. The actors were talking loudly amongst themselves and I was having trouble getting their attention.

“Take control, Joe,” Phil instructed, if not exactly conferring authority upon me, dangling it before me, at least.


But how?

I didn’t know what to say. I knew that something wasn’t working in the scene, but I had no idea how to fix it. No clue what to tell the actors. Other than give them line readings (saying the line for them) but it was my understanding that actors typically resented line readings, so I didn’t do that. All those years watching other directors, arrogantly thinking , “I can do that.” Every bit as naive as a director thinking they could sit down, roll up their sleeves, and operate the multitrack audio console just because they’d sat in the same room as an engineer for years.

I muddled through.

At lunch, I asked Michael how he thought it was going.

“It’s like being chauffeured in a Rolls Royce,” he told me.

Given my obvious lack of experience directing it couldn’t possibly have been true. Michael must surely have been wishing that he was directing the production himself. But he was far too gracious to say so.

Recording Engineer Wayne Richards at the controls

I was glad to get the cast recording over with. Once we finished taping I had far more control. I edited and mixed Birth in my favourite studio, Sound Effects 3 (SFX 3). As with my previous pet project Faster Than Light, I turned over every stone to get it perfect, or at least try to. I edited the dialogue tracks (picking and choosing from various takes) and laid in the sound effects. Michael showed up to help with the final mix.

Shortly before working on Birth I’d convinced my boss John McCarthy to purchase new plug-ins for the ProTools in SFX 3 (plug-ins are essentially special effects for audio). The usual plug-ins, the Gold Wave bundle, were good but limited. So, I had some great tools to work with. The only problem was, playing with the plug-ins, and trying to get everything just right, took me twice as long as it would have on a regular project. 

The upshot is that I didn’t finish the project in the time allotted. I had to come in on a day off. I worked all day, futzing around with the voice of the killer robots, trying to get it just right. Using my new plug-ins I finally managed to create an original treatment for the robot’s voice that I was happy with, that I didn’t remember hearing anywhere else on either TV or film (which had been my goal).

A few days afterward I had a meeting with one of our departmental managers about something else entirely during which I happened to mention that I’d come in on a day off to finish mixing Birth. I thought he’d be impressed by my dedication. Au contraire.

“You can’t do that,” he told me.

“Why not?” I asked. “It’s not like it cost the CBC anything.”

“It’s not fair to your colleagues,” he said. “Because you come in on a day off and they don’t, your work winds up sounding better than theirs.”

I mentioned this conversation to producer Bill Lane. “Talk about a culture of mediocrity,” he remarked. 

Birth premiered, Friday, July 8, 2005, at 10:00 p.m. across Canada on CBC Radio One as a part of a limited anthology series called Deep Night, executive produced by Gregory J. Sinclair.

Tragically, Michael Lennick passed away in 2014, way too young at the age of 61. Michael and I had hit it off, working together on Birth. Yet I never saw or spoke to him once afterward.

I really wish that had not been the case.

Rosie Fernandez, Michael Lennick, and Yours Truly behind the credenza in Studio 212

Stuart McLean

One of a series of posts about working in radio back in the day.

(Here’s some more).

Stuart McLean with a Neumann U-87
Stuart McLean

The Vinyl Café with Stuart McLean may not have been big, but it was small.

That was the show’s motto.

The Vinyl Café debuted in 1994. I was a fan from the beginning. It was a great show. How do I know it was a great show? Because it would trap me in my car long after I’d reached my destination. I just couldn’t stop listening. That was always happening to me with The Vinyl Café. Stuart McLean was one of the biggest celebrities CBC Radio had to offer, and The Vinyl Café one of the best shows. I never let Stuart know I felt that way. Maybe I should have.

 Stuart had been a long-time journalist with CBC Radio. He came to fame with his seven-year stint contributing to Morningside. He created radio magic with Peter Gzowski. Before that he’d contributed documentaries to Sunday Morning. He won an ACTRA award for Best Radio Documentary for contributing to that show’s coverage of the Jonestown massacre. Over time he became a best-selling author and the celebrity host of The Vinyl Cafe. He won the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour three times, was appointed an Officer of the Order of Canada, was a professor emeritus at Ryerson University in Toronto and well, you get the idea. But I knew him as the host of The Vinyl Café, both from listening to the show on the air and by working with him in the studio, at least when he wasn’t touring the show around Canada and the United States. 

Our first day working together I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Although I liked his show, I knew nothing about the man. Would he be full of himself? Have a bad temper? Treat me like a piece of the equipment? I was optimistic but prepared for the worst.

Stuart arrived in SFX 3, we greeted one another, and I directed him to the announce booth. He took a seat before the mic. I’d set up a vintage Neumann U-87 microphone for him, one of the best you can get, they go for about $3500 new. Stuart started talking. Then he stopped. He got a funny look on his face. He picked up a pencil and dropped it. The mic picked up the sound of the pencil dropping with exceptional clarity. It was an especially good mic.

U-87 Microphone

I got a bad feeling.

“It sounds weird,” Stuart said. “There’s something wrong with the sound.”

I thought, oh here we go. This guy has a hit show. He’s famous. Famous enough to be a pain in the ass.

Stuart messed with the mic some more, having fun with the sound, dropping pencils, making funny noises, just generally being playful, having a good time. Finally, he accepted the sound of the microphone, and we got down to the business of recording an episode of The Vinyl Cafe. He wasn’t a pain in the ass, and he never turned into one.

The producer of The Vinyl Cafe at this time was David Amer. Stuart had created The Vinyl Café with David. David worked on the show ten years before handing the reins over to Jess Milton. Stuart continued to credit David as the Founding Producer of The Vinyl Cafe for the rest of the show’s run.

David and I often chatted while editing the show. During one such chat he asked me, “How would you like to go out on the road with us? To record the show and do our music pickups?”

“You’d be better off with Greg DeClute for that,” I told him.

That was probably pretty stupid of me. I lacked confidence in my ability to record music at the time. Later, as the recording engineer for Q, I would record on average three bands a week. Still, I don’t regret telling David that. He did approach Greg. Recording music was Greg’s passion. He’d been properly trained for it. He had tons of experience and he was good at it. Greg was the right choice. He accompanied The Vinyl Café on the road for years. I think we can all agree that his music pickups sounded terrific. Greg told me afterward that going on the road with The Vinyl Café had been one of highlights of his career.

But I still got to package the show in the studio.

When David Amer retired, and it became necessary to appoint a new producer to the show, I believed that it should be either me, Greg, or Wayne Richards. We’d been champing at the bit to become producers. Why not save time, money and bother by just getting us to both record and produce the shows we worked on? When I found out that someone by the name of Jess Milton would become the new producer of The Vinyl Café, I was disappointed. Here we go again, I thought. Probably have to teach her everything from the ground up.

I met Jess one evening during a studio taping session. To my dismay, I liked her immediately. Nobody had to teach her anything. She was smart and capable and a perfect production partner for Stuart. She became an instrumental part of the show. For example, on the road, Stuart performed the same live show over and over in multiple towns and cities. This provided Stuart and Jess ample opportunity to refine the show before it was taped for broadcast. Each performance, Jess sat in the audience to track the audience’s responses, noting which of Stuart’s lines elicited the best laughs and which didn’t. Afterward they tweaked the show accordingly and record the refined version for broadcast. 

Stuart and Jess were an unbeatable combination. They were fun to work with and generous to a fault. One night my mother flew up from Prince Edward Island to visit me for a few days. I couldn’t pick her up at the airport because I had to work. I had to voice track Stuart for The Vinyl Cafe. My mother was a big fan of the show. I mentioned all this to Jess as we began to work. She got on the talkback and told Stuart.

“What’s your phone number?” Stuart asked me.

Later, when we were pretty sure my mother had arrived at my place, Stuart called my number. Mom answered.

“Hi Mrs. Mahoney? It’s Stuart McLean. I just wanted to thank you for loaning us your son tonight.”

They had a great chat. My mother was tickled pink.

She got to meet Stuart in person, too, when The Vinyl Café played Summerside, PEI. Jess arranged tickets for my folks. Jess and Stuart were generous with their tickets. They always offered my wife and I (and Greg and Wayne and Anton and their families) tickets for the live Christmas shows in Toronto.  

So yes, Stuart was a nice guy. He wasn’t without sass, though.

One day he arrived in the studio dressed to the nines.

I checked out his sharp new suit, looked down at my ragged jeans with holes in the knees, and said, “Gee, I didn’t know I was supposed to dress up for this gig.”

“Well, you were, asshole,” he told me.

(He was joking, of course.)

Stuart passed away February 15th, 2017, at age 68. It was a blow not just to those of us who knew him, but to everyone who had ever listened to Stuart’s special brand of radio whimsy. It was a privilege to have been able to work with such a man.

Faster Than Light: The Second and Third Pilots

An excerpt from Something Technical:

As I’ve written earlier, after the success of the Faster Than Light pilot, we did not receive a green light to proceed with a series. But that wasn’t the end of the story. The Director of Radio Programming at the time, Adrian Mills, did not reject the show outright. The following summer James Roy, now Acting Director of Radio Drama, approached me about doing another pilot for a summer run of the show. Presented in a half hour format, it would be Faster Than Light “light”.  Unfortunately, James had no budget for it.

Robert J. Sawyer
Host of Faster Than Light

No problem. We took a radio play directed by Bill Lane from the archives and built a show around it. I wrote a frame for the show about auditioning for a new host. Rob’s main competition was a robot called Huey (played by Julian Ford) whose main claim to fame was starring as a robot in the classic science fiction movie Silent Running with Bruce Dern. Huey didn’t get the job. Linda Spence also acted in this pilot as a fictional Associate Producer. The concept for Faster Than Light was gradually crystallizing in my mind: it would be a fictional show about making a science fiction radio show. A show within a show. Very meta.

Faster Than Light #2

The summer series didn’t pan out, though. James was willing to proceed, but with no funding and very little time to write and produce ten episodes, I didn’t think I could do the show justice. Seeing as it appeared we’d have an opportunity to try again later with proper funding and adequate time, I opted to wait. 

That fall we did get funding to do another pilot. For this attempt, I brought in Fergus Heywood to co-produce. Fergus had been highly recommended to me by Greg Sinclair. He enthusiastically agreed to help out. We were assigned Alison Moss as Senior Producer, who I always loved working with. I would eventually work with her on the summer replacement series Next with Nora Young. So it was a good team.

Chris Boyce, Head of the Program Development Committee, organized a facilitated session to help us further define the show. Fergus, Alison, Rob Sawyer, Chris Boyce and I all sat down to figure it out. Richard Handler, an experienced Arts producer, was also involved. This third pilot was a serious effort, but the whole spirit was completely different than the first pilot. The show would be half hour instead of an hour. It would include one full cast radio play instead of two, and it would not include a continuation of Captain’s Away, although I had written several episodes.

Chris had us come up with a mandate:

“To fire the imaginations of Canadians by presenting thought provoking encounters with masters of science fiction and fantasy along with engaging dramatizations of their work.”

When we were finally ready, I hired Wayne Richards to write and record original theme music for the opening of the show. We would use an original composition from Fergus Heywood for the closing. Having decided to make the theme of this pilot “The Other,” we secured the services of Cathi Bond, an experienced freelancer, to produce a short documentary on “the other” in science fiction films throughout history.

I wrote a high production frame for the episode that consisted of three parts. In the opening, a mad scientist creates a host for the show in an homage to Frankenstein, a classic “other” in science fiction. The mad scientist was played by Tony Daniels, who did a brilliant German accent as Dr. Frankenstein. Once the host has been created, he takes over and introduces the show. After the first part of the show, a second interlude or frame features the mad scientist conducting an experiment in which he accidentally transforms himself into a fly (an obvious homage to The Fly). Rob the host returns to usher us into the next part of the show, an original adaptation of Born of Man and Woman by Richard Matheson, adapted and directed by Barry Morgan. The end credits featured Rob as the host along with the mad scientist. Not realizing that the fly trapped in the studio with him is the mad scientist, Rob swats him.

FTL #3

I was attempting to seamlessly mix representational radio with presentational radio. The drama and the high production intro, middle and extro were all representational. You listened to those the way you would watch a movie or television show. They weren’t talking directly to the audience. They were meant to be entertaining as opposed to informative. Whereas the bits with Rob talking directly to the audience, and Cathi Bond presenting her short documentary, were presentational. The trick was to guide the audience from one style of radio to another without confusing them.

Ultimately the fate of the show would be determined by the Program Development Committee, a group of several experienced broadcasters assembled by Chris Boyce. I remember one of the members of this group listening to the opening of the show after I had finished mixing it. I was quite proud of it. I thought it was funny and that the sound effects and mix had achieved what I’d set out to do. This person listened to it, gave me no feedback whatsoever, and left the studio. My impression was that he didn’t get it, and didn’t like it. This did not bode well.

We finished the pilot and submitted it to the Program Development Committee. A representative of the committee phoned me sometime afterward to tell me the bad news. They weren’t going to pick up the show as it stood. They just didn’t think it worked. More work was required.

I didn’t entirely disagree. I didn’t think it had worked as well as the original pilot. The original pilot had had room to breathe. It possessed a certain charm. We hadn’t overthought it. The elements stood on their own. Rob brought a passion and an authenticity to it. The second pilot had itself been a Frankenstein monster. I liked the frame we had created for it. But I had been forced to edit the heck out of the radio play that I’d borrowed from the archives to make it fit. Even the audio quality of the radio play hadn’t been up to snuff; it had originally been recorded on tape and sounded a few tape generations old. The third pilot had more going for it. I liked the frame. I liked the opening and closing music. I liked Barry Morgan’s Richard Matheson adaptation. I liked Cathi’s piece. But somehow it didn’t all gell the same as the original.

Nevertheless, the committee still hadn’t given us a definitive “no.” They offered us a chance to make yet a fourth pilot. By now people in the drama department were calling me Wing Commander Joe, I had so many pilots under me.

 So, with a thread of hope still dangling before us, Fergus, Rob, Alison and I got together to talk about it. Rob made the point that maybe the show needed to be more serious, that our problem was trying to mix humour with seriousness. Thinking of shows like MASH and Life is Beautiful, I didn’t think that was the issue, though it could well have confused the Development Committee. Rob also objected to the CBC’s obvious efforts to make the show “stealth” science fiction. They didn’t want the show to be overtly about science fiction and fantasy. They wanted it to be something else that happened to include science fiction and fantasy. I agreed with Rob on this point. There seemed to be a slight bias against science fiction and fantasy. And not only that: against radio plays, too. Against storytelling. Against the representational. (This would be made abundantly clear when the entire radio drama department was shut down a few short years later, ostensibly as a response to financial pressures.)

Which was too bad. Because by now I had refined the concept even further. I was thinking that the host should be a sonic sorcerer, with the power to do anything, be anywhere. This concept, coupled with effective, liberal use of sound effects, would have several virtues. It would allow us to harness the enormous imaginative potential of radio. If the host wanted to be on the surface of Mars, he could be there in the blink of an eye—faster than light, if you will.  If he wanted to lasso a comet by the tail, he could.  He could pilot a spaceship, visit Heaven or Hell, single-handedly battle an army of knights… or simply conduct an interview. It solved the conceptual problem of how to veer from the fantastic portions of the show’s “frame” to the magazine elements of the show:  


FEMALE VOICE: (TREATED) Incoming vessel. You have three seconds to identify yourself before we open fire.

HOST: (TWO SECOND BEAT)  (TREATED)  I’m Robert J. Sawyer, commanding Faster Than Light on CBC Radio. Be advised that if you open fire, we will respond.

FEMALE VOICE: Acknowledged, Faster Than Light.  What, may I ask, will you respond with?

ROB:   How about an interview with Canadian Independent author Maaja Wentz?

You see how it would work? Playful and imaginative. Veering seamlessly from fantasy to reality. It would itself be science fiction and fantasy while presenting the same to our listeners.

Alas, it never happened. The committee never did say no outright, but the truth is, Faster Than Light as we conceived of it never stood much of a chance. What we wanted to do was too much at odds with what the powers that be at the time were willing to let us do. Greg Sinclair was head of the drama department at the time (but did not represent the Program Development Committee… I felt he was on my side). We discussed the project and mutually decided to pull the plug. To make it work for the CBC, we were going to have to turn it into a show that none of us believed in or wanted to do. Greg informed Rob Sawyer.

We never got the green light that I had dreamed about for so long.

Rollback, by Robert J. Sawyer

Still, I wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything. I’m proud of all three pilots. Rob and I became friends. I thank him for his generosity and time in trying to make it work. Later, he asked me to read and comment on the third draft of his novel Rollback (about a man and a woman in their eighties who agree to undergo a procedure to make them younger. It only works on the man. Of course, this has huge implications on their relationship. It’s a great read.) Rob made the protagonist a CBC Recording Engineer/Producer, which is what I aspired to be. He also featured me as a character in the novel, on page ninety-nine.

I went back to my normal life working on other people’s radio shows. That year CBC Radio launched a show called WireTap. I could barely make myself listen to it, out of jealousy, I suppose. Finally listening to an episode one day, I found myself impressed. I wrote the producers of Wiretap and told them how much I liked the episode, which had included some scby Roience fiction. I used my cbc.ca email address so that they would know that it came from a colleague. Nobody from the show ever responded.

Had I managed to get Faster Than Light on the air, I would have personally responded to every single email the show received.                      

Captain’s Away!

Random Science Fictiony Looking Pic

Once I finished producing The Cold Equations for our science fiction radio show pilot Faster Than Light, I turned my attention to the second radio play in the show, an original called Captain’s Away! (Which I always wrote with an exclamation mark in the title because I liked the look of it. According to Goodreads there are 758 books with exclamation marks in the title, most of which are kids’ books, including a bunch by Dr. Suess.)

I didn’t intend Captain’s Away! just for kids but it was something I thought kids would enjoy. It was based on an idea I’d had several years earlier that had stuck with me. Roy Orbison once said if you had to write an idea down to remember it, it probably wasn’t worth remembering. I’d written the idea for Captain’s Away! down somewhere but I hadn’t needed to. It was an idea that had definitely stuck with me over the years. 

The premise was pretty straightforward. A waitress is approached by a crackpot who refers to her as “Captain” and implores her to return to her ship in space to lead her crew on a dangerous mission.  Except that the stranger isn’t actually a crackpot and there really is a spaceship and circumstances force our hero to assume the identity of the captain with no idea what she’s doing as all the while the question lingers: is she the captain or isn’t she? And if so, why can’t she remember being the captain?

Intending the piece to be a serial, to be aired in ten minute episodes during each instance of Faster Than Light, I set out to write the first ten minutes for the Faster Than Light pilot. I wound up writing the first three episodes, but we only ever produced the first one. I wrote it as a light, comic piece with plenty of opportunities for cool sound effects.

I got into a bit of trouble during the writing of it. When I gave what I considered to be the final draft to James Roy, he pointed out that this was not the way it was done. I was supposed to have written an outline and then a first draft and then a second draft and then a third draft and a polish, with feedback at every stage to inform the next stage. I don’t think I actually knew that. I was used to writing fiction on my own. Writing with the input of others was an alien concept to me. But James was right. I was stomping all over the way things were supposed to be done. He accepted the piece just the same, though.

As I mentioned in an earlier post about The Cold Equations, we cast the actors for both The Cold Equations and Captain’s Away! at the same time. Casting, I discovered, is quite difficult. It was so hard to make up our minds. So many great actors to choose from. I really liked a fellow by the name of Julian Richings for the part of the crackpot stranger named Choki. Julian has a wonderful British accent that I thought would work nicely (I was delighted to see him turn up in both Orphan Black and The Expanse years later), but we opted for Sergio Dizio instead (whom we also cast in The Cold Equations), after Sergio wowed us with a faux Italian accent. Later, after hearing Sergio’s comic Italian accent in the production, Damiano Pietropaulo, Director of Radio Drama at the time, of obvious Italian descent, expressed some dismay at the accent. Until he brought it up, it hadn’t occurred to me that it could be seen as offensive. That certainly wasn’t my intention. But nobody else complained.

We cast Kristina Nicoll as the lead and Richard (Rick) Waugh of Muckraker fame as her boss (he also doubled as a bus driver for a couple of lines). Both were terrific.

I contracted Wayne Richards to contribute original theme music and he came up with a fabulous piece that I called the Ah Oooh song (I don’t know if it has an actual name). I finished the play with another original piece of music by Rod Crocker called Turnaround, which I also love.

Turnaround (Rod Crocker, artist, composer)

Making Captain’s Away! was a lot of fun and I was disappointed we didn’t get to make any more. To make up for it, I’m hard at work on my second novel, working title Captain’s Away (this time without the exclamation mark). It’s not quite the same story as the radio play version—it’s a lot less silly and there’s a lot more to it—but it has a bit of the same spirit.

And maybe one day we’ll make a radio version of it.

Captain’s Away! (Well, the first ten minutes, anyway)

Just for fun, here’s the script for the first five episodes:


By Joe Mahoney

KARIN KUDELKA, waitress, thirtiesh

ENSIGN CHOKI SUNERIN, early twenties

LEONARD SNODGRASS, Manager of the Pickled Onion, fortiesh

MIRIEL, female, thirty-five, hint of the islands



1. MUSIC:                                AH-OOH THEME

2. KARIN (NARR): Kudelka’s Log, Tuesday, July twenty-seventh.  It’s been almost a month since… the accident.  I still can’t believe he’s gone.  It’s so lonely without him.  I hear him all the time, but when I turn around to look for him, he’s not there.  What I wouldn’t give to see that handsome little face one more time.  The guilt is almost more than I can bear – it was my fault, after all.  If only I hadn’t left the window open!  Maybe I should just replace him, but – I don’t think I deserve another gerbil.  Sometimes I think I don’t deserve any pet at all.




6. SNODGRASS: (TREATED) Who’s this?

7. KARIN: You first.

8. SNODGRASS: It’s me, Leonard.

9. KARIN: Leonard…

10. SNODGRASS: Leonard Snodgrass!  That you, Kudelka?

11. KARIN: Omigod, M-mister Snodgrass, what time is it?


13. SNODGRASS: It’s late, is what time it is.  Do you not think, Kudelka, that it’s time you bought a clock?

14. KARIN:   I have one, it just doesn’t –


16. KARIN:     — work, is all.




19. KARIN: Hi, how ya doin’?  Okay, seventy, eighty, ninety, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven… uh oh.

20. DRIVER: Well?  You gettin’ on or not?

21. KARIN: Uh, do you have change for a twenty?


23. DRIVER: We only take exact change.

24. KARIN: Oh.  Darn.  Uh, gee — 

25. DRIVER: Look lady, what’s it gonna be?  On or off?

26. CHOKI: (MOVING ON) Hello, hi, excuse me… maybe I can help.


28. CHOKI:  There.  Is that enough?

29. KARIN: Yes, thank you.

30. CHOKI: You’re quite welcome, Captain.

31. KARIN: Captain?


33. CHOKI: Mind if I sit beside you, Captain?

34. KARIN: Be my guest.


36. KARIN: So, do you call everyone Captain?

37. CHOKI: Just Captains, Captain.  Excuse me.


39. CHOKI: (DISCRETELY) Choki to Kimay (KEE’MAY), I’ve found the Captain, she’s assumed the identity of a human female, brunette, with quite a smattering of freckles about her face. A clever disguise.

40. KARIN:   Uh…

41. CHOKI: I’ll keep you posted, Choki out.  (CHUCKLES) You’re asking yourself, why am I talking to my watch.

42. KARIN: Well yes, actually.

43.  CHOKI: You see, it’s not just a watch, it’s also a communicator.  We had them specially made.  Clever, eh?  Here, I’ll show you.


45. CHOKI: You see?

46. KARIN: Oh, I get it, it’s a toy.

47. CHOKI: Noooo Captain, it’s no toy, it’s as real as the Kimay.

48. KARIN: The Kimay…

49. CHOKI: The Kimay… the starship that brought us here.  You’re a little confused, aren’t you?  I didn’t realize –

50. KARIN: You think I’m the one that’s confused?

51. CHOKI: Thank heavens I found you in time, before the enemy –

52. KARIN: Oh boy.

53. CHOKI: When the psionic link went down, I –


55. KARIN: Gee, is this my stop already?  (MOVING OFF)  Thanks so much for your help, I’ll just be getting off now, thanks, excuse me?

56. CHOKI: (CALLING AFTER) But Captain, you don’t understand, we need to – the mission, it’s in jeopardy… Captain, the Kimay needs you!




59. KARIN: (BREATHLESS) I’m so sorry –

60. SNODGRASS: Third time this month, Kudelka.  Third time.

61. KARIN: Sorry, Mr. Snodgrass, won’t happen again, getting a new clock soon as I can afford one.  Then on the bus, there was this, this guy –

62. SNODGRASS: You’re on thin ice, do you hear me?  And it’s melting, just like the polar ice cap.  (BEAT)  Be sorry to see it go.

63. KARIN: (BEAT)  What go?

64. SNODGRASS: The polar ice cap!  All those polar bears – won’t be a one left.  Punctuality and polar bears – I shall mourn their passing.  Okay, get out of here, table twelve’s waiting, what’s the matter with you?  Take his tray, weirdo’s been waitin’ half an hour already.

65. KARIN: Like I said, Mr. Snodgrass, I’m really sorry about –


67. KARIN: (MUTTERING) Okay, okay… this his tray here? (GROANS PICKING UP TRAY) Fella’s got an appetite…




70. KARIN: (MOVING ON) Table twelve, table twelve, here we are… morning, sir, sorry to keep you waiting, I must say, this is one heckuva a big breakfast for just one per – (GASP) – you!

71. CHOKI: A ploy to remain seated, Captain, no time to eat.  Now listen: The enemy, they’ve affected your brain, I think.  We must get you back to the ship —

72. KARIN: Are you stalking me?

73. CHOKI: Captain, please —

74. KARIN: Stop calling me that!  I’m not your Captain, or anyone’s Captain, I’m a waitress, and you, sir, need help —


76. KARIN: What’s that?  What’ve you got there?  What are you-

77. CHOKI: P.T.A, Captain – personal time accelerator, for use in emergencies only.  It’ll buy us the time and privacy we need.


79. KARIN: What the – my god, what have you done?  It’s like, they’re all frozen!  Everyone!  Not cold to the touch, but –


81. KARIN: Omigod!  I just touched her and she fell over, I didn’t mean to — 

82. CHOKI: ‘S’okay, Captain… (STANDS UP), it’s not a problem, I’ll just get up and (GRUNTS WITH EXERTION) stand her back up, like so…

83. KARIN: Watch her head!  The table!


85. KARIN: Ooh!

86. CHOKI: That’s gonna leave a mark!  (BEAT)  Shame, too… it was such a nice table.


88. CHOKI: There!  Except for the big lump on her head she’ll never know what happened.

89. KARIN: What exactly is happening?

90. CHOKI: (RAPID-FIRE) The personal time accelerator, it speeds us up, we’re moving much faster than everyone else, too fast for them to see or hear us.  Got it?  No.  Okay, doesn’t matter, not important.  What is important is this:  You are Captain Karin Kudelka of the Kimay, you’re not from here, you’re a T’Klee, you’ve been hurt in some kind of accident, that’s why you can’t remember who you are.  Mighta been enemy action, maybe you just slipped on a banana, hard to say.  Thing is, we‘ve got to get you back to the Kimay before the damage becomes irreversible.

91. KARIN: Okay look you, I don’t know what kind of shenanigans you’re up to or how you know my name, but I’m not going anywhere.  I am not a whatever you said, I’m a waitress.  You, this, this thing you’ve done, I’m just delusional is all, it’s… the gerbil!  The stress of his death, it’s getting to me, the guilt, I’m, I’m losing my mind –

92. CHOKI: Captain.  There’s far too much at stake here.  If I have to, I’ll sling you over my back… 


94. CHOKI: Drat, time’s up.  Grab on to something, quick.


96. KARIN: Oh!


98. SNODGRASS: (STORMING ON)  Kudelka… Kudelka, was that you?  Did you drop your…  what’s got into you?  Look at this mess!  As far as the eye can see, nothin’ but scrambled eggs.

99. KARIN: Mr. Snodgrass… you were frozen, all of you, just like statues, you came back to life and I musta – (SNIFF; SHE’S TRYING NOT TO CRY) jumped, I didn’t mean to — (SNIFF) I’m just having a bad day (SNIFF SNIFF)…

100. SNODGRASS: Oh, Karin, Karin, Karin, there there, it’s okay, here’s a handkerchief.

101. KARIN: (SNIFF) Thank you.

102. SNODGRASS: It’s drugs, isn’t it?

103. KARIN: Huh?

104. SNODGRASS: You disappoint me, Kudelka.  Didn’t think you were the type. 

105. KARIN: No, no!  No drugs!

106. SNODGRASS: You’ll consider this an act of kindness some day — you’re fired.  Get help if you have to.  Now get your things and get out.

107. KARIN: Fired?  No… you can’t!  The rent, how will I… Mr. Snodgrass, please –

108. CHOKI: (APPALLED) Captain, please, the dignity of your station, begging before a mere human —

109. KARIN: You stay out of this!

110. SNODGRASS: Sorry, mind’s made up.  Oh, and Kudelka – if you wouldn’t mind, just, cleaning this up before you go?  Hmm?


End of Episode One




3. CHOKI: (BREATHLESS, MOVING ON) Captain, we have to get back to the ship.  The crew… you’ve been gone a long time, they’re restless.  I can’t blame them, the enemy, closing in —

4.  KARIN: “We” must not get “me” anywhere.  I’m going home.  Alone.  (MOVING OFF)  Taxi!  Taxi!

5. CHOKI: Captain!  Home is an awfully long way from here!

6. KARIN: (ON) What am I doing, I can’t afford a taxi.  (MOVING OFF)  Bus!  Bus!

7. CHOKI: Half way across the galaxy.  Remember?  No?

8. KARIN: (ON) Hypnosis.

9. CHOKI: Captain?

10. KARIN: Hypnosis.  That whole slowing down time thing in there.  It was a trick, wasn’t it?  You’re some kinda loony hypnotist.  Well thanks for the show, pal, but you’ve gone and got me fired!

11. CHOKI: Captain, you’re not well.

12. KARIN: (DERISIVE SNORT) I’m not well! 

13. CHOKI: Come with me.  Back to the ship, I implore you.  We’re in danger, all of us, great danger.  The mission… you want to go home?  Captain — there will be no home, not here, not there, not — not anywhere, unless you and I get back to the Kimay, back where we belong, and finish what we came for!

14. KARIN: Look you — wait a minute.  What’s your rank, young man?


16. CHOKI: Ensign Choki Sunerin, at your service, Captain.

17. KARIN: Ensign.  So I’m your Captain, am I?

18. CHOKI: Yes.  Yes, that’s right.  Captain Karin Kudelka of the Kimay, Marauder Class Starship of the Imperial Republic of T’Klee.

19. KARIN: Of what?  Never mind.  Okay.  If I’m your Captain, then you have to follow my orders.  That’s right, isn’t it?  Ensign?

20. CHOKI: Uh…

21. KARIN: (STERNLY) Ensign!

22. CHOKI: Yes Captain.  But —

23. KARIN: No buts!  I order you to go away!  Far, far away!  Vermont, at the very least!  And leave me alone! 

24. CHOKI: (GENTLY) Captain, with all due respect, you are not fit to command.

25. KARIN: That’s a direct order, mister!  You can’t disobey a direct order!  (BEAT) Can you?

26. CHOKI: I’m afraid I must.  We’re running out of time.  I’m sorry, Captain, but…


28. KARIN: Okay, what’s that, what’ve you got there –

29. CHOKI: S’okay, Captain, won’t hurt a bit.  Well not much.  A bit of pain, maybe –

30. KARIN: Hey!  Whattaya…  don’t you dare stick me with that thing!


32.  CHOKI: It’s for the best, Captain.  You’ll go to sleep, you’ll wake up on board the Kimay, and everything’ll be juuusssst fine.

33. KARIN: Oh no you don’t…!


35. CHOKI: Ooof!

36. KARIN: Mr. Snodgrass!

37. SNODGRASS: To the rescue, it would appear.





41. SNODGRASS: A little something to help you relax.

42. KARIN: Thank you, Mr. Snodgrass.

43. SNODGRASS: (SITTING DOWN) Where was I… oh yes.  When I saw the weirdo hadn’t paid his bill, I went after him.

44. KUDELKA: With a frying pan.

45. SNODGRASS: Naturally.

46. KARIN: Did you – did you have to hit him so hard?  I mean – I know he was crazy, but —

47. SNOGRASS: He was assaulting you with a deadly… with a deadly… thing, you know.

48. KARIN:    I know, but… he was kind of sweet in a way.  Calling me “Captain” all the time.  Captain!  Usually it’s “Honey where’s my baloney sandwich?”

49. SNODGRASS: Yes.  “Captain.”  Curious that.

50. KARIN: You’re being awfully sweet too, Mr. Snodgrass.  To tell you the truth, I didn’t —

51. SNODGRASS: Think I had it in me.  Yes, I know.  You all think I’m some kind of “monster,” don’t you, heh heh.  Well there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Kudelka.

52. KARIN: Um… Mr. Snodgrass… seeing as how you’re being all nice to me and all now, um…


54. KARIN: No?

55. SNODGRASS: No.  You can’t have your job back. 

56. KARIN: But – but Mr. Snodgrass…!

57. SNODGRASS: This may sound harsh, Kudelka, but… well… jobs are for people who show up on time.  They’re for people who don’t drop things, and… who aren’t about to die horribly.

58. KARIN: That aren’t about to… huh?

59. SNODGRASS: Kudelka, I’m gonna to show you something I haven’t shown anyone in years.

60. KARIN: Oh, I’m not so sure I wanna see that —


62. SNODGRASS:    (TREATED AS AN ALIEN) My true face!

63. KARIN: (GASPS) Mr. Snodgrass!  You’re hideous!

64. SNODGRASS: (TREATED) I beg your pardon!  I’ll have you know I’m considered quite the catch back on Necronia Prime.

65. KARIN: Necronia…

66. SNODGRASS: (TREATED) Prime, my dear Captain.  My homeworld.  Yes, that’s right: I know who you are, even if you don’t.  I heard every word your ensign said.

67. KARIN: (WEAKLY) Homeworld?

68. SNODGRASS: (TREATED) Oh, how I long for those crimson skies, those sulphurous seas!  Here everything’s so… bright and… fuzzy, I – I simply can’t stand it any longer.  Fortunately, once I’ve extracted what I need from your feeble brain, I won’t have to.  What have you to say to that, Captain Karin Kudelka of the Kimay?

69. KARIN: Uhhhh… help?



End of Episode Two



2. KARIN: (UNDER HER BREATH) This is not happening.  It’s not happening!

3. SNODGRASS: (TREATED) We’ll have to be quick about this, Kudelka.  Come over here.

4. KARIN: No…! 


6. SNODGRASS:   I just insert the…



9. SNODGRASS: Turn it on, and…


11. KARIN: Oh…!  Oh, it hurts! 

12. SNODGRASS: Yes.  Yes I’m sure that it does. 


14. SNODGRASS: But you mustn’t think me cruel, Kudelka. Merely expedient.  You see, the truth is, I’ve always been rather fond of you.

15. KARIN: Right!

16. SNODGRASS: We have much in common, you and I.

17. KARIN: What could I possibly have in common with a monster like you –


19. SNODGRASS: (BEAT) Monster?

20. KARIN: Have you looked in a mirror, pal?  I mean, you know, since you ripped off your face?  A little something to consider: Instead of a gaping hole in the middle of your face?  How ‘bout some kind of, oh, I dunno, nose

21. SNODGRASS: Show me your true face, Captain.  Talk to me then of monsters.

22. KARIN: My true face…? What do you mean my true face?

23. SNODGRASS: (CHUCKLES) Never mind, Captain.  No time for that now.  Now —

24. KARIN: I’m warning you, I’ll scream.

25. SNODGRASS: Oh good. I was rather hoping you’d scream.  Soundproof walls, Captain.  Scream to your heart’s content.



28. SNODGRASS: Time to find out what you know.

29. KARIN: What I know?  I don’t even… know about what?



32. KARIN: (SUFFERING) Wait!  Wait…I know…

33. SNODGRASS: What?

34. KARIN …pain…

35. SNODGRASS: My dear Captain.  We all know pain.  Tell me something I don’t know.

36. KARIN: Okay!  Okay!  Just don’t… I’ll tell you something, something I know…


38. KARIN:     I know…

39. SNODGRASS: What?

40. KARIN: (BABBLING, DESPERATE) What do I know?  Uh… well, I’ll tell you one thing, I know that this is really a bad day, ‘cause Mr. Snodgrass I have to tell you I thought that yesterday was a bad day, I mean, you’re gonna laugh, but I got my little finger caught in a cheese grater, trying to get it out I thought I’d rip it clean off, man did it hurt  — but compared to today that was nothing

41. SNODGRASS: (INTERRUPTING) Captain, Captain.

42. KARIN: What?

43. SNODGRASS: The Apple.

44. KARIN: Apple…

45. SNODGRASS:    I need to know about The Apple.

46. KARIN: (HASN’T A CLUE) The apple.  Yes.  Yes, of course.  The apple.    

47. SNODGRASS: It’s the entire reason you’re here, isn’t it.  To find The Apple.  Bring it back to your people.  Win this silly war with it.

48. KARIN: (TRYING TO FOLLOW) Win the war with the apple…

49. SNODGRASS: So what I need to know, Captain…



51. SNODGRASS: …is… where is The Apple?

52: KARIN:  I don’t know!

53: SNODGRASS: Maybe you have it already.  Do you?  No?  How close are you to finding it?

54. KARIN: Mr. Snodgrass, please…

55. SNODGRASS: ‘Cause it’s here, somewhere.  Oh yes, I know it is.  Has to be.  So close I can practically smell it.

56. KARIN: (BEAT) Without a nose?


58. KARIN: Oh…!  Oh, Mr. Snodgrass.  Why are you doing this to me?

59. SNODGRASS: Make no mistake, Kudelka, you’re doing this to yourself.  Tell me where the Apple is and all the pain will stop.  It’s as simple as that. 

60. KARIN: It is?

61. SNODGRASS: It is.  I promise.

62. KARIN: You do?

63. SNODGRASS:     I do.  I really do. 

64. KARIN: Umm…


66. KARIN: Uh… what about the fridge.  Have you looked in there?



69. SNODGRASS: Tsk tsk tsk.  Why do they always insist on dying horribly?




73. SNODGRASS:  What the…?




77. MIRIEL:   Hello, Captain.  Long time no see.


End of Episode Three



2. KARIN: (IN SCENE): (FRANTIC) Gotta… gotta get a grip.  Gotta think!


4. KARIN: Have ta… organize my thoughts… maybe, maybe write things down…

5. KARIN (NARR): (STILL FRANTIC) Kudelka’s Log, Wednesday, July… July…

6. KARIN (IN SCENE): What’s the date today?

7. CHOKI: Human calendar, Captain?  Or T’Klee?

8. KARIN: (BEAT) Never mind.

9. KARIN: (NARR): They’ve taken me in some kinda — some kinda car.  Who?  I don’t know. Why?  Dunno that either.  My… my job — gone!  Eggs!  Everywhere… boss some kinda – freak! Nose! Gone, all gone.

10. CHOKI: Captain… Captain, are you okay?  Sir, she’s shivering.


12. MIRIEL: (FROM FRONT SEAT TO BACK) Don’t worry, Ensign — we’ll get her looked after as soon as we can.  Get her seatbelt on — I’m gonna take a shortcut.

13. CHOKI: Yes sir. 


15. CHOKI: Captain, if you could just–

16.  KARIN: (IN SCENE) Don’t –! Touch me.

17. CHOKI: Captain, your seatbelt.

18. KARIN: I’m not your captain.  And I may be crazy, but I still know how to…


20. KARIN: … how to… how to get a…! Arrgh!  How do you get this thing to —

21. CHOKI: Just… you just have to –


23. KARIN: (BIG SIGH) Thanks.

24. CHOKI: You’re welcome, Cap – you’re welcome.


26. KARIN: (SHAKY) Look, Ensign – whatever your name is – maybe – maybe it wasn’t such a good idea me coming with you.

27. CHOKI: No, no, Captain, don’t say that—


29. CHOKI: (PAIN) Oh!

30. KARIN: What? What’s wrong?

31. CHOKI: Nothing… it’s nothing…

32. KARIN: It’s your head, isn’t it? Where he hit you —

33. CHOKI: My head’s fine. Really. 

34. KARIN: Really?

35. CHOKI: Absolutely. My real head, anyway.  But this one? Hurts a lot!

36. KARIN: (BEAT) Could you sound any more like you have a concussion?

37. CHOKI:      I just need to get back to the ship, Captain.  I’ll be fine then. We all will. (SOTTO VOCE) I think.

38. KARIN: Oh yeah.  The ship.  The – what did you call it?

39. CHOKI: The Kimay. You – you do remember her, don’t you, Captain?

40. MIRIEL: Ensign.

41. CHOKI: But – but sir, she’s got to remember! If she doesn’t even remember the Kimay, how can she can possibly –

42. MIRIEL: Ensign! 

43. CHOKI: Yes sir.

44. KARIN: Look you… people – or whatever you are — what if – and just, just go with me on this, um, what if I don’t remember anything because, you know, call me crazy, but, ah, because there isn’t anything to remember! Eh? And – and — and – and maybe it isn’t me that’s crazy at all but, but – and, don’t get mad — ha ha! so to speak — but, but, but it’s you that’s crazy, and not me!  Eh?  Or, or, or this is all some kind of a joke, some kind of really, really horrible, mean joke —

45. MIRIEL: Karin —

46. KARIN: (WEAKENING) A joke that… that Mr. Snodgrass put you up to… except – except that – you guys – it really hurt the stuff he did to me, you know…? 

47. MIRIEL: Karin, listen to me. You’re going to be okay — 

48. KARIN: No, no I don’t think so.  I am anything but okay! —

49. MIRIEL: You’re scared… confused. I don’t blame you – all you’ve been through.  Hang on.


51. MIRIEL: I’ve no idea what happened to you, Karin – why you can’t remember who you are. I know it must’ve been something bad.  But we’re going to figure it out, you and me – all of us, together. You have my word on that. We’ll sort it all out just as soon as we… uh… (SHE’S SAID TOO MUCH)… as soon as we…


53. MIRIEL: Um… as soon as we, ah, soon. We’ll sort it out soon.

54. KARIN: As soon as what? What were you going to say?

55. MIRIEL: (SIGH) As soon as we cross over.

56. KARIN: Cross over.  I don’t even want to know what that means.


58. KARIN: Stop the car.

59. CHOKI: Captain…

60. KARIN: Stop the car.  I mean it! I’m getting out.


62. CHOKI: Captain no!

63. KARIN: You’re got three seconds and then I jump!

64. MIRIEL: Karin –

65. KARIN: One!  (BEAT) Two!

66. CHOKI: Sir — I think she means it, sir!

67. MIRIEL: Of course she does, Ensign. She rarely bluffs, our Captain.

68. KARIN: Three!


70. MIRIEL: (FACING BACK SEAT FOR FIRST TIME) Well? Karin. Go if you’re going.

71. CHOKI: (AGHAST) Sir? You’re not going to just –!

72. MIRIEL: That’s enough out of you, Ensign.


74: KARIN:      I just… it’s just —

75. MIRIEL: Mm?

76. KARIN: It’s all just so… insane!  I mean… isn’t it?

77. MIRIEL: Oh yes, Captain, quite insane, I assure you.


79. MIRIEL: We have a long ways to go yet, Captain — if you would be so good as to close the door?


81. MIRIEL: (SIGH OF RELIEF) Yessirree… a long, long ways.


End of Episode Four



2. KARIN:    I was afraid of this.

3. CHOKI: What, Captain?

4. KARIN:    I don’t see it.

5. CHOKI: What are you looking for?

6. KARIN: Your ship. The… the Kimay. I thought you were taking me to the Kimay. (DERISIVE SNORT) You know, you almost had me convinced. 

7. CHOKI: No… no, Captain — we are taking you to the Kimay, really!

8. KARIN: So… what.  Is it down there?  Under the water?

9. CHOKI: Noooo….

10. KARIN: Wait! Don’t tell me: it’s in a cave in the cliffs.

11. CHOKI: Noooo….

12. KARIN: (SARCASTIC) Is it a cloud?  A tree? No, no wait, I got it — it’s a bug, isn’t it.  A ladybug, or — or a bee!  And we have to shrink to get in it. Right? Am I right?

13. CHOKI: A good guess, Captain —

14. KARIN: But?

15. MIRIEL: No. The Kimay is not a bug.

16. CHOKI: You see, the thing is, Captain, the Kimay is not actually here.

17. KARIN: (ASIDE) Why am I not surprised? (LOUDER) All right, then — where is it?

18. MIRIEL: Tell her, Ensign.

19. CHOKI: Yes… well, you see, Captain, it’s difficult to say exactly where the Kimay is at any one time.  We have to keep it out of harm’s way, you see, because of the, ah, well the war and all… and — um, should I be…?

20. MIRIEL: It’s okay, Ensign, she has to hear about it sometime.

21. KARIN: The war… Snodgrass said something about a war. Kept asking about… an apple?  Can that be right? Maybe I didn’t hear him right.

22. MIRIEL: We are at war, Captain.

23. KARIN: Over an apple?

23. MIRIEL: No.

24. KARIN: Well that’s good. (CHUCKLES) Be a pretty silly war, over an apple.

25. MIRIEL: Wars have been fought over less, Captain. 

26. KARIN: Yeah? Like what… grapes?

27. CHOKI: There is an apple involved.  But it’s not a real apple – we just call it an apple.

28. KARIN: Let me guess – it’s really a grape.

29. MIRIEL: Ensign. Tell her about the Kimay.

30. CHOKI: Yes sir. You see, Captain, the thing is, we don’t actually know where the Kimay is.

31. KARIN: You don’t.

32. CHOKI: No.

33. KARIN: So… what. This is some kind of a game, then?

34. CHOKI: Oh no, Captain.  By no means.  You see, we may not know where the Kimay is…


36. CHOKI: But we know how to get there.  Choki to Kimay.


38. CHOKI: Kimay, we have the captain.


40. CHOKI: Yes.  We have the captain.  Standing by to cross over.


42. CHOKI: Understood.



45. KARIN: (AFRAID) What’s that?

44. CHOKI: Psionic field.  It’s up, sir.

45. MIRIEL: Good.  That gives us… what.

46. CHOKI: Seconds, minutes… hard to say.


48. KARIN: A sonic what?  What do you mean by “cross over… you’re not talking about beaming up, are you?  Know what I think? You guys watch too much television.  You should listen to the radio more!

49. MIRIEL: Get a move on, ensign.

47. CHOKI: (OFF) Yes sir. 

48. KARIN: What’s he doing?  (PANIC) Where’s he going?

49. CHOKI: (OFF) It’s okay, Captain!

50. KARIN: No!


52. KARIN: No… no, Choki, what are you… don’t do it! Don’t jump!


54. CHOKI: Let – go, Captain!

55. KARIN: But – but Choki – it’s gotta be a hundred feet down there! There’s rocks – you could hit a rock beneath the surface!

56. CHOKI: (STRUGGLING TO FREE HIMSELF) Captain, there’s — no time —

57. KARIN: But – but Choki!  You’ll drown! Or – or wind up a quadriplegic! Or worse!

58. CHOKI: Captain, it’s – it’s how you do it!  How you get to the Kimay!

59. KARIN: Choki…!  Choki… You! Help me!

60. MIRIEL: (OFF) He knows what he’s doing, Captain.

61. KARIN: Choki… Choki damn you!



64. KARIN: Choki! Omigod… omigod Choki!  I – I can’t see him!  Where’d he go?

65. MIRIEL: (APPROACHING) He’s on board the Kimay, Captain.

66. KARIN: (URGENT) I don’t see him on the rocks… he must be in the water! Quick! Call 911!

67. MIRIEL: I’ll go next.  You need to come right after, Captain.  No dawdling… the field won’t stay up forever.

68. KARIN: Whattaya you guys… in some kinda cult?

69. MIRIEL: See you on the other side, Captain.


71. KARIN: Noooo!  Oh no… I – I can’t believe this… omigod, there she is!  In the water! Can’t… just… gotta, gotta do something!


73. KARIN: Maybe – maybe can’t save both of them… but… but gotta try at least!  Wasn’t a syncronized swimmin’ champ for nothin’!  All right.  Here goes! (TAKES A BIG BREATH)





End of Episode Five


The first radio drama project that I worked on regularly was a weekly half hour sketch comedy called The Muckraker. The Muckraker aired every Saturday morning at 11:30am, and promised to “take you behind the headlines for the real story on the latest news.”

The Muckraker was a fictional online newspaper staffed by five intrepid reporters, a device that allowed us to set up actual news stories from the previous week. Once the stories were set up, the show segued into comedy sketches about those stories, with the cast assuming the roles of various colourful characters poking fun at Canadian and International news.

According to the internet, The Muckraker was created by a fellow by the name of Gary Pearson. I never actually met Gary. I knew who he was because I’d once seen him perform an excellent impression of Captain Kirk in a live comedy sketch show, but I don’t remember ever seeing him set foot in the studio.* That doesn’t mean he was never there. Nor is it a bad thing, as the writing team was ably represented by head writer Jerry Schaefer (whom you might remember as Possum Lake animal control officer Ed Frid on the Red Green show).

Gary Pearson
Gary Pearson

Searching the net, I see that a fellow by the name of Chris Earle also wrote for the show, but I never met him either. It’s possible that others wrote for the show too, but if so I have no idea who they were.

The Executive Producer of The Muckraker was Anton Leo. Anton also directed most episodes. Anton apparently achieved modest fame in the seventies as “Waiter With Tray” in a series of beer commercials, but I had no idea about that until I looked him up just now.

I took turns recording and mixing episodes of The Muckraker with fellow recording engineer Wayne Richards, alternating weeks. Anton Szabo (not to be confused with Anton Leo) did the sound effects for most if not all shows.

The Muckraker cast was a talented bunch. I liked them all. Peter Oldring (currently featured in This is That) did an old man voice that is the funniest old man voice I’ve ever heard. It should be considered a national treasure. Every now and then I would get him to do it just for me. I don’t know why he doesn’t talk in that voice all the time.

I enjoyed Richard (Rick) Waugh’s performances so much that I wrote a part just for him in a pet project I did a few years later (more about that in another post). You know Rick, you just don’t know it—you’ve heard him many times doing commercials on private radio.

Richard Waugh
Richard Waugh

Mag Ruffman is well known as her alias Debbie the Tool Girl. Mag was a pleasure to work with.
Deann Degruijter was a ball of positive energy. Looking her up, I see that she recently finished a stint as the voice of Mayor Goodway on Ryder and the Paw Patrol. According to a website for the show, Deann is both “female” and “alive.” It’s great to have the former confirmed and I’m happy to hear about the latter.

Glen Gaston, according to the internet, has appeared in both movies and theatrical productions since Muckraker. Sadly, I can find no web sites confirming his gender.

We packaged Muckraker on a pretty tight schedule. The writers produced scripts for us late Thursday afternoons just in time for recording sessions Thursday evenings. While the cast read through the script a couple of rooms over, I’d peruse my own copy to determine the best way to block each scene. By blocking, I mean arranging how the actors moved through the scene with respect to one another and the microphone.

Sometimes, as I’ve written elsewhere, the blocking was as simple as having the actors stand next to one another facing the microphone. Other times it was more complicated. I’ve also written about that, but it won’t hurt to provide another example:

A mother is shouting out her window at her son, who’s climbing a tree outside on the front lawn. She’s afraid he might fall out of the tree and break his neck. How do you make a scene like that sound convincing on the radio without recording it on location? (We didn’t have time to visit all the locations in our script. Even if we did, they might not have sounded convincing. In the world of audio, with no pictures to help your brain figure out what you’re hearing, stuff doesn’t always sound like what it actually is.)

In Studio 212, I might have placed the son inside the Dead Room (no hard surfaces for his voice to reflect off, simulating an outdoor environment), and his mother in the main studio within some artfully placed soft-sided baffles. There was a window between the Dead Room and the main studio to allow interaction between the actors. By tweaking the actors’ proximity to the microphone and one another, and by adding the appropriate ambiance in post, I could make a scene like that sound pretty convincing. Studio 212 really was brilliantly conceived, designed to give production teams maximum flexibility to recreate just about any environment, internal or external, that they could conceive of.

It was arguably the director’s job to do this kind of blocking, but not every director had sufficient experience or interest. Wayne and I usually helped Anton Leo block the scenes. This is not a slight against Anton: his expertise was comedy, not blocking radio plays. Directors such as Gregory J. Sinclair, James Roy, Bill Lane, and Bill Howell, on the other hand, who were profoundly interested in the medium of radio drama, were constantly pushing the boundaries, and often surprised me with their innovative blocking. Most of what I know about the craft of making radio plays I learned from them.

Despite assisting with the blocking, I was still pretty green when I was working on The Muckraker. And I was pretty much flying without a net. Recording during the evening, there was no one around to help me if things went south, apart from Anton Szabo, who, though resourceful, had not been trained on the Neve Capricorn.

I was so green, in fact, that I didn’t even know how to hard reboot the Mac Computers if they froze.

“Press the power button for five seconds until it restarts,” John McCarthy told me shortly before my first evening shift, courteously refraining from rolling his eyes.

In my defense, this was 2002. It was my first exposure to Apple computers. I didn’t like Macs at all back then. I’d been a hard core PC guy since I’d bought my first IBM XT 286 back in 1991. I knew the PC operating system. I was familiar with DOS. I didn’t know anything about Macs. There was a lot about them that drove me nuts.

For example, on the Mac Quads we used to run our editing software, it was not possible to eject the CD tray from the Mac computer itself. You had to do it through a button on the keyboard. The problem with this was that the computer was not located in the control room with us. Because the computer was noisy (not good when you’re working with sound), it was housed in a completely different room down the hall, connected to the monitor, keyboard and mouse in the control room via extremely long cables amplified by range extenders (I think). I’d go to the Mac in the other room to insert or remove a CD only to discover that I’d forgotten to eject the tray from the keyboard, forcing me to go back to the control room to hit eject.

Then there was the spinning wheel of death. When a Mac computer hung, it hung real good. It would display a colourful little wheel on your monitor that would spin forever and ever, and God help you if you forgot to save your work before the Spinning Wheel of Death showed up.

Back to The Muckraker. During each take, I would sit in the control room, hunched over the console, listening closely to each take. I was listening to make sure there were no issues with the sound, but I was also listening to see if I could help make the scene any funnier (I fancy myself a writer with a particular interest in humour). Sadly, the Muckraker team wasn’t the least bit interested in my input. Only once did they ever accept one of my suggestions. It was for a sketch that concerned an incident with Jean Chretien. Back in Aug 16th 2000, then Prime Minister Jean Chretien was touring an agricultural show in PEI when a twenty-three year old protestor shoved a pie in his face.

“You have developed a funny way of serving pies these days,” Chretien told supporters later. “I’m not that hungry.”

This sort of thing was right up Muckraker’s alley. The resulting sketch related the broad details of the incident: the Prime Minister getting pied in the face, and the protestor getting arrested. There was a line: “I’m taking you into custody.”

I suggested we change the line to, “I’m taking you into custardy. Uh, custody.”

Hey, I’m not saying it’s the funniest line ever. But of all my suggestions during my time with The Muckraker, that’s the one they took. It was Rick Waugh who agreed to deliver the line. Thanks Rick.

The infamous Chretien Pie Incident
The infamous Chretien Pie Incident

We usually finished recording the cast around eleven pm. The cast and crew would bail, leaving Anton Szabo (not to be confused with Anton Leo) and me to clean up. Afterward, I would race home as quickly as possible to hit the sack because I would have to be back in bright and early the next morning to edit, assemble, and mix the show. Neither Wayne Richards nor I were particularly fond of this quick turnaround. Once, rushing home on Highway 401, I got stopped by a cop for speeding.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” he asked me.

“No,” I told him honestly.

“There are jets that fly slower than you,” he said.

Keen to get home, I’d been doing over 140 k/hour without realizing it. Luckily, I was only fined fifty bucks and didn’t lose any points. Except with my wife, that is.

During our Thursday night recording sessions, Associate Producer Tracy Rideout kept track of the good takes. (Tracy would go on to become the Executive Producer of CBC Radio comedy). Friday mornings when I came into edit and assemble the show, we worked off Tracy’s notes.

Fridays were as annoying as Thursday evenings were fun. It was a pretty intense day. For a while, the show aired on Friday nights as well as Saturday mornings, so there was a lot of pressure to finish mixing by eight pm.

The mixing process was essentially the same as any radio play except that instead of mixing it in studio 212, where it had been recorded the previous night, we mixed it in Studio 213, otherwise known as Sound Effects 3, or SFX3. SFX3 would quickly become my favourite studio. Mixing in SFX3, I had access to ProTools, a Digidesign Pro Tools Control 24 mixing board, one piece of outboard gear (a Harmonizer), and a suite of Waves Gold Plugins. Plugins are software effects processors that allow you to manipulate sound in all sorts of fancy ways.

On a conventional radio play the recording engineer would edit the voice tracks and then hand the project over to the sound effects engineer to assemble the sound effects, and together they would mix the show under the supervision of the director.

On The Muckraker, Anton Szabo (not to be confused with Anton Leo) always prepared his sound effects before the recording session, recording many of them live into the sketches. The rest of the sound effects he would load up in the hard drive, readily accessible. Having the sound effects already recorded and pre-loaded greatly reduced the time needed to mix the show. This was critical, because it still took a damned long time. Anton (Szabo) usually didn’t participate in the Friday mix sessions. SFX3 was a smaller studio. It was easier and more comfortable just to have one engineer working with the director and associate producer.

I can’t speak for Wayne (who, you might recall, engineered the show every second week), but the way I mixed the show was scene by scene, editing the dialogue first, then fleshing out the sound effects (and music, if there was any). Ideally, we’d take the best single take of each sketch based on Tracy’s notes. Unfortunately it never worked out this way. Anton Leo always insisted on listening to every bloody take. Then he’d take bits from several takes to create a composite take. All this futzing around slowed down the process and drove me and Wayne nuts (I can safely speak for Wayne on that point).

“Why doesn’t he just follow the damned notes?” we’d ask ourselves.

Of course, he was trying to get the funniest bits into the show. Ironically, years later, when Greg DeClute and I started directing, editing and mixing our own radio plays, we were infinitely fussier than any of the directors we ever worked with, including Anton.

Creating each episode was a painstaking process, but it was also pretty rewarding as the show came alive. It was also quite an education. I learned how to make dialogue pop. I made crazy edits that I never thought would work but that did anyway. I manipulated sound in crazy ways, using all the tools at my disposal, bending sound to my will, mwa ha ha.

At first, levels drove me crazy. You want the volume of the show to be consistent throughout, within a certain dynamic range, peaking at about -20 dBfs (decibels relative to Full Scale). I came from live radio where I managed levels on the fly. Maintaining consistent levels in the digital domain was trickier. I worked off two meters, a stand alone dBfs meter on my left and a similar meter on the DAT machine to my right. The meter on my left also showed me whether my content was in or out of phase (which you can hear, but it’s nice to have visual confirmation. More on phase later).

There’s a phenomenon called threshold shift. You probably experience this in your car when you’re listening to the radio. When you first get in the car, you set your car stereo to a certain level, then you get driving and the road noise is loud so you crank the radio up. You get out on the highway and it’s even louder so you jack the radio up even more. At the grocery store, you get out and buy your groceries. When you get back in your car and turn it on, you can’t believe how loud your radio is. You’re a victim of threshold shift.

I also experienced threshold shift mixing radio shows, but it was more about ear fatigue. As the day wore on, my ears got tired, and as my ears got tired, I gradually made everything louder, forcing me to revisit parts of my mix to make the levels consistent. Eventually, I acquired the discipline to do this as I went along, constantly checking levels on both meters to ensure consistency. And I would try not to vary the volume of the studio monitors, a lesson John Johnston had taught me a decade earlier.

They were long days, mixing Muckraker. Twelve, thirteen hours days followed by the long commute home. Once we finished mixing the show, we still had to print it in real time onto DAT tapes (later we burned it onto CDs). If there was a mistake, we’d have to stop, fix it, and start again (we didn’t usually make mistakes; we didn’t have time to). Once printed, Anton Leo would grab the tapes and run them up to the third floor to Radio Master Control for broadcast. More than once we weren’t entirely sure we’d make it in time.

After a while they stopped the Friday night broadcast so we only had Saturday to worry about. This bought us more time, but it also meant that we could tweak even later into the night. And when we switched from capturing the show on DAT tapes to burning it onto CDs, it didn’t really save us any time. In fact, it sometimes added time. To make a CD, we had to “bounce” the show into a two–track (stereo) version in Pro Tools, and then use a program called Toast to burn the CD.

This was usually pretty straightforward, if we set the bounce up properly. But there was one stretch of several weeks when the Mac Superdrive wouldn’t burn the CD properly. If we couldn’t burn the CD, then we couldn’t get it to Master Control for broadcast. When we burnt a CD that didn’t work, and that we couldn’t reuse, we called it “burning a coaster” as that’s all the CD was good for. I burnt a lot of coasters during that period. Eventually Audio Systems (which is what radio maintenance was called back then) fixed the Superdrive for me.

That wasn’t the only technical problem I experienced. One Saturday night I was at home watching a movie with my wife when the phone rang. Muckraker was on the air but I wasn’t listening to it. Having recorded and mixed the thing, I’d heard it enough already. It was Director/Exec Producer Anton Leo on the phone.

“They all sound like ghosts,” he complained. He was talking about the cast.

Reluctantly, I turned on the radio. Sure enough, half the cast sounded like they were only barely there. They sounded like I’d recorded them from the next room over. Anton told me that the cast sounded that way in most of the country. Curiously, they sounded fine in parts of Alberta. Although he was too polite to come right out and say it, Anton clearly wanted to know how the hell I’d wrecked his show.

Immediately I suspected that the cast sounded this way was because the show was being broadcast out of phase.

What does that mean exactly?

It means that the show’s audio, in particular the voices of the actors, was cancelling itself out.

How could this happen?

Sound travels through the air in waves. Saying that sound travels in waves can be misleading though. Many people think of sound as looking like the surface of water, with peaks and troughs, because the motion of sound is often represented visually as a sine wave. This is just a convenient way to visually illustrate what’s going on. The truth is sound waves travel through air as longitudinal waves. Longitudinal waves don’t have peaks and troughs. What’s actually happening is that as sound passes through a pocket of air, it displaces particles of air before and after that pocket as the energy of the sound wave passes through it.

Without going too far down this rabbit hole, when an object creates a sound wave that passes through air (such as a human voice), it creates low and high pressure areas in the air around it—areas where the air particles are bunched up, and areas where the air particles are spread apart. These are called compressions and rarefactions respectively. They are not the peaks and troughs of waves; they are just different concentrations of air particles.

Compressions and Rarefactions
Compressions and Rarefactions

How does phase come into this?

When two compressions come together—two areas where the air particles are bunched up—followed by two rarefactions—areas where air particles are less concentrated—the sound waves reinforce one another. This is called constructive interference and will result in louder sound. If, on the other hand, a rarefaction meets a compression—a low pressure area meets a high pressure area—then the longitudinal waves will cancel one another out. If they cancel one another out completely, the air particles will behave as though they were at rest, with no interference at all. This is called destructive interference, and will result in no sound.

Obviously, the interaction of longitudinal waves in a medium such as air is rarely straightforward, especially when enclosed within reflective boundaries such as walls, with other reflective objects such as furniture scattered throughout. So in the real world it’s unlikely that sound waves would completely cancel one another out. They can, however, do a lot of damage to one another, and that’s what I thought was happening to The Muckraker that night. I thought that I must have done something during either the recording or the packaging process that resulted in that particular show being out of phase.

Sound can wind up out of phase for several reasons. It can happen at the recording stage. An actor might stand in the wrong spot relative to the microphone. Recording using a style called MS Stereo (I’ll spare you the details of that), we kept a close eye on the phase meter when we had several actors ranged around our MS Stereo microphone. If an actor wandered in behind the microphone, he would get recorded out of phase. I was pretty sure I hadn’t let that happen.

There is an issue closely related to phase called polarity. They are often confused because both polarity and phase manifest themselves in similar cancellation and interference issues. They are not the same, though. Phase has to do with timing and signal delay. Polarity is when you have two possible choices that are mutually exclusive, such as a fan blowing air or a vacuum drawing air in, or flipping a coin either heads or tails, or observing positive or negative when you insert a battery, or deciding whether to be good or evil. When you’re talking about sound, polarity is a question of direction of flow of electrical current.

Polarity issues can arise from bad or incorrectly used cables, microphones, and loudspeakers. On the home front, for example, a listener might have audio issues because their stereo speakers are wired up wrong. Many people do this without even realizing it. If you accidentally reverse the polarity of one channel on one of your speakers—putting the black (negative) speaker wire where the red (positive) one is supposed to go, then you will mess up your speaker drivers, which work by rocking back and forth. If you reverse the polarity of a speaker, one speaker cone will behave opposite of what it’s supposed to, going forward when it’s supposed to be going backward, the opposite of the cone in the other speaker (assuming the other speaker’s wired correctly). When this happens, the longitudinal sound waves from the two speakers will partially cancel one another out, resulting in weak bass and weird stereo imaging, which you don’t want.

Here’s a trick: Take your two stereo speakers and place them about a foot apart facing one another. Turn the stereo up. If it sounds big and juicy, the polarity is likely fine and all is well. If it sounds thin and tinny, the speakers might be wired incorrectly. Try reversing the wires in the back of one speaker. You should hear a significant difference in the quality of sound. You want it sounding big and juicy, with full bass. (Note that if you reverse the polarity of both speakers, you’ll be fine, because then the speakers won’t be cancelling one another out any more. Don’t talk to me about absolute polarity.)

But the odds of everybody in Canada except those in parts of Alberta having all their stereos wired up incorrectly were inconceivably slim. So that probably wasn’t the issue.

I worried about it all weekend. When I got to work on Monday I immediately brought it up with the guys. Nobody could figure out what I might have done.

I’m afraid the punchline’s a bit anti-climactic. Within a day or so, transmission techs discovered that the problem had been a bad patch in the CN Tower. Either a cable had been patched wrong or the cable itself had been wired incorrectly, reversing the polarity. The reason the show sounded fine in Alberta was because Alberta received the show via a different means of transmission.

It was a good to know I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not that it mattered if I had; I would have had to just own up to it and learn from it.

Which some poor transmitter tech no doubt had to do this time round.

*Memory is a funny thing. It’s entirely possible that the man I saw perform Captain Kirk so effectively that night long ago was someone else entirely. However, I am absolutely certain that Gary created The Muckraker. I know this because it says so on the Internet.

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