@ ~ Wednesday, December 11, 1991 — North Shore News Trouble in paradise Bob Hunter IT SOUNDED like the dream shoot of the decade. The producer had hustled extra money from the notoriously tight-fisted big guys upstairs, enough to have herself, her cam- eraman, a soundman and me flown down to Nassau and put up at a resort for three nights while we recorded the standups for the special we were doing on dolphins. The Bahamas! Everyone else at the station had laughed incredu- lously. What'd you have to do to get sent to The Bahamas, for Christ's sake? Just to do stand- ups! Standups are those parts of a television program where the reporter suddenly appears, waik- ing along somewhere, delivering a monologue to the camera. I was a bit jittery, to tell the truth. It had beei 2 month or so since I'd given up evil nicotine. At the best of times, I hate airports, STRICTLY PERSONAL about to stop at just the right spot —- when a new problem would occur, like hornets attacking the crew or the monitor shorting the audio. “Cut! signalled the producer , 46 Cut! signalled the producer by running her finger across her throat, a gesture that began to acquire a tremendous burden of sub-text as the hours under the scalding Caribbean sun unreeled...99 customs, traffic, packing, unpack- ing. Being still stressed out from withdrawal, | knew the situation we3 fraught with the potential for disaster, It looked for the first evening, however, as though the Video Goddess might be smiling down upon us. Our hired guide was a charming fellow who had _ everything figured out. Locations were found with apparent ease. By mid-morning the next day, _ we were‘climbing out of the van onto a mile-iong stretch of des- erted beach, each of us bent under the burder of gear. | was wired un with a tiny mike at my collar, a battery pack stuffed into my back pocket. The idea was to walk barefoot along the edge of the breaking waves, talking to a camera so far away I could hardly see it. It was some kind of fancy super-zoom shot, see? Everything had to be just right, especially since we had come all . the way to The Bahamas to shoot this sucker. It’d better look good! The big challenge in television '. Of course is to keep a straight face. I mean, there 1 was, an adult male, walking along a beach, talk- ing into the air — conversational- ly, you understand, no need to shout — while the waves broke and the gulls called ... And a dog barked, spoiling the sound; and a plane landed at the nearby airport, spoiling the sound again; a car ‘vith a broken muffler passed; my voice cracked; 2 stray whiff of wind brushed static across the mike; I went blank; the cameraman lost focus; a cloud passed over the sun; another plane whined overhead; I forgot a verb; motorboats came in close to the shore to see what we were doirg, spoiling the shot... ’ Every time something went wrong, we'd have to start all over again, Sometimes (’d get halfway through my little heart-to-heart chat with the far-away camera, often I’d be just a couple of steps toward it, and sometimes I'd be within seconds of the end — perfect lighting, perfect sound, perfect focus, perfect delivery, by running her finger across her throat, a gesture that began to acquire a tremendous burden of sub-text as the hours under the scalding Caribbean sun unreeled, and J walked back and forth, back and forth, along one beach after another, talking and gesticulating to the empty air, a FRESH CRABMEAT $13 Ib. ' COOKED CRABS $6.00-7.00-8.00 each f SHRIMP PRAWNS SCALLOPS ONSTERS CLAMS MUSSELS con FILLETS SNAPPER FILLETS SOLE FILLETS HALIBUT STEAKS SALMON ~ WHOLE STEAKS — FILLETS camera crew hidden off in the distance, super-zooming in. The soundman, nw maiier how far away, could pick up every lit- tle sound I was making. He couldn’t talk to me, but 1 knew he, and he alone, could hear me. It was like having someone in- side your head, listening to your secret thoughts. It was just as well the sound- man alone could hear my mutter- ings and commentary, the lack of nicotine in my life rapidly becom- ing a major consideration as we went through take after take after take. Halfway through the second day, the big discovery was made that everything we'd shot until then was no good and would have _ to de shot again. A complex technical snafu, beyond my com- prehension. What this meant was revisiting half a dozen locations, getting ourselves past authorities and onto private property, trekking all the way out to the end of the deserted beach again ... Mainly it meant we were going to have to work tight through the full three days, no time off for cavorting on the beach, boys! So there we were — slaves in paradise. I thought