We’re finally home from Newark, NJ and the 2007 Friends of Old-Time Radio Convention. I wanted to run a few of my thoughts up here, and then hopefully over the next few days I can find the time to look at the hundreds of photos I took to see if any of them actually came out, and get them posted (I want to install some new gallery software to this blog, to see if I can auto-add captions to the pics, something the existing gallery software doesn’t do.)

As usual, I was a little busy this year…I help out where I can, and schmooze where I can’t. ;) This year I seemed to be a bit more disorganized than usual (which is saying something), needing to make occasional shopping trips down Rt. 22 for things like a (*sigh*) tripod. The convention went off with the usual efficiency, though, due almost in toto to Jay Hickerson, who has been doing this so long I swear he could organize us in his sleep.

I was fortunate enough to talk to many of the subscribers to the Internet OTR Digest who attended the convention. I have to apologize, though…I found myself far too often hastily leaving folks while going from one thing to another. If you said hello to me, and I darted off to find a panelist or some other silly thing that needed to be done, please forgive me.

My wife went above-and-beyond, spending the entire day Friday on-the-road driving back home to pick up the Katester and rush back to Newark, arriving barely in time to grab dinner before the performances. Katie quickly became the belle-of-the-ball, helping as a runner during the raffle and just being a great kid the rest of the time. (Of course, everyone will understand that that is due to the influences of my wife…any devilishness she might display on the other hand is directly my responsibility.)

The recreations and performances this year ran the gamut from interesting to excellent; unlike others, I tend to be a bit more critical and found a precious few small issues with a few of the programs - this isn’t to take anything away from the hard-working folks who performed in them, understand, as my issues tend to go toward directorial decisions, and I am intentionally not pointing out any of my small critiques since they really aren’t worth spending time on. I only mention them at all because some people tend to uncritically praise everything, which while certainly a legitimate point-of-view tends to limit possible improvement. (There was one small misunderstanding for which I again apologize profusely…some people think they heard something that did not happen, but I am embarrassed that a few misheard as a blistering critique what I intended as a humorous boost. It’s over and dealt with, but I’m still feeling a bit sheepish about it.)

Again this year Fred Berney was slotted into the first panel of the day. This has the unintended side-effect of getting me out of bed far earlier than nature intended, and the associated grumpiness until the third or fourth cup of coffee on the part of your (at this point in time not-so-)obedient servant. Fred, thank heavens, is aware of this personality flaw in his assistant, and so is careful to keep his panel easy to videotape. Still, I’m pretty sure at one point I had the camera pointed at the back wall where Walden Hughes was broadcasting the convention to the folks listening to Yesterday USA…

Hal Stone was missed. Hal Stone is missed.

My daughter and I met Eddie Carroll Saturday evening…now for most people at the convention, introducing him as the Jack Benny impressionist extrordinare would suffice, but I know my audience, so I instead introduced him to Katie as the voice of Pinocchio’s pal, Jiminy Cricket. Mr. Carroll earned my eternal gratitude when he bent down, and so only she could hear, performed the voice for her as her eyes widened in wonder and delight. While with everyone else I enjoyed his portrayal of Benny that evening in The Jack Benny Show re-creation, his finest and most appreciated performance that night was for an audience of one.

In a turn of events suitable to only the most convoluted of mystery novel, as I was setting up my camera for the Sunday Morning panel the moderator, Anthony Tollin, entered the room, told me I would need to take over in his stead as he was not feeling well, and bolted toward the door. Yours-truly stumbled through the hour-and-a-half panel only with the kind help and assistance of some of the more steller performers at this year’s convention. Seated between Michael Gwynne and Eddie Carroll, with both working hard to save me from myself, and at the same dais with Peg Lynch, Chuck McCann, Stuffy Singer, Jeff David, and Gregg Oppenheimer (if you ever get the chance, ask him why he hasn’t been invited back to the Playboy Mansion…), the time was a blur of mixed terror and honor, and I sincerely hope the convention isn’t charged extra for cleaning up the puddle of flop-sweat that resulted from this emergency substitution in the batting order. (But I had so much fun I’m already plotting how to take Anthony out of the panel next year…let’s see…a gloved hand pours a mysterious vial of green liquid into his Mexican Coca-Cola, and…er…no, guess I’d better not.)

I’m certain I’ll think of more after a few hours’ sleep, but for the time being these are my impressions of the last few days. Over the next week, I’ll get some photos posted, along with any other thoughts that may come to me about this year’s convention.