Page 31 of Prime Time

For the first interview she limited her questions to the general’s personal history, his childhood, his education, his early years in the army.

“You aren’t a native Texan, though you’ve lived here since your retirement.”

“No, I was born in Missouri and grew up there. My father was an iceman.” He related a few anecdotes about his parents and his one brother, who had died during the thirties.

“How is it that you came to retire in Texas?”

“Well, I’ll tell you about that, Andy.” He was totally unaffected by the camera and talked to her as though they were alone. It was her own disregard for the camera once it started rolling that put her interviewees so much at ease. She took the subtle time cues from Warren with barely a blink of her eyes. The subject never noticed.

The general told a story about how he had first come to the hill country of Texas with a friend to hunt elk. He fell in love with the limestone-dotted hills and lovely rivers fed by underground springs, and decided that he would settle there after his retirement.

“And did you get an elk?”

He laughed. “No. I never could shoot worth a damn. You can ask my son, Lyon. I never made higher than marksman in the Army. My contemporaries teased me about it unmercifully—they said that if the soldiers under my command hadn’t been able to shoot any better than their general, we’d have never won the war.”

On that note Andy concluded the first interview.

“Terrific!” Jeff said, switching off his camera and unlatching it from its tripod.

Lyon started pushing the wheelchair through the maze of lights and cable. “We’ll need him for about five minutes more, Lyon,” Andy said. “We have to do reverse questions.”

“What’s that?”

She explained that when only one camera was being used, after the interview the photographer would move his equipment over behind the subject, this time focusing on her. She would repeat some of the questions she had asked, but the general wouldn’t respond, only sit still. Then an editor would mix the two segments of tape, first s

howing Andy asking the question, then the general as he was answering it in the real interview.

“It’s a trick to make it seem like we had more than one camera. The transitions are edited so smoothly that the audience never notices they’re there.”

The general took his directions from Jeff, who was holding the camera on his shoulder and focusing on Andy past the general’s head.

“Dad, are you all right?”

“Yes, son. I haven’t had this much fun and excitement in a long time. During the war whenever I was interviewed, there were swarming reporters with flash cameras in their hands. Every once in a while I did a radio interview, but this is different.”

Andy was glad he was enjoying himself, but she didn’t like the high color in his cheeks any more than Lyon did. She did the reverse questions flawlessly and quickly. They were finished within a matter of minutes. Tony switched off the hot lights.

“You’re a true pro, sweetheart,” Jeff enthused, hugging her tight and kissing her smackingly on the cheek. Gil had gently separated the general from his microphone and was now unhooking hers, taking care not to snag her dress. Lyon was assisting his father into the wheelchair, but hadn’t missed Jeff’s show of affection. His eyes were hard as they drilled into her.

Out of regard for the general’s health the crew had refrained from smoking. Now they all filed out the front door to take in their required ration of nicotine.

Andy knelt in front of General Ratliff’s chair. She looked up into the lined, age-spotted face. “Thank you. You were wonderful.”

“I enjoyed it. I thought perhaps you’d change personalities when the camera came on, that you’d become hard, curt, and demanding. I should have known you’d remain the gracious lady that you are.”

She stood up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’d better rest. We’ll be at it again tomorrow.”

Since they had gotten a late start, it was almost dinnertime by the time they secured the equipment for the night. As with most cinematographers, Jeff treated his camera like a baby and coddled it lovingly. Tony’s lights were safely restored to their metal boxes. Gil’s microphones were replaced in their cushioned cases.

They were like ten-year-old boys over the idea of sharing their quarters with real cowboys and hastened down to the bunkhouse to take their evening meal. The general ate off a tray in the seclusion of his bedroom. Andy had to endure a virtually silent meal alone with Lyon.

“Are you satisfied with how the interview went today?” he asked. They were well into the main course before he broke the oppressive, unnerving silence.

“Yes. Your father is a natural before the camera. Often we have to remind the interviewee that he’s talking to me and not to the camera. They want to look at it instinctively. But your father was oblivious to the camera and the lights. He was an interviewer’s dream.”

“Your crew seem to like you.”

Andy knew there was more to the statement than a surface observation. “We’ve worked well together for years. Sometimes I’m assigned other technicians. It’s not always the same ones, though this team is my favorite. They’re very professional.”

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