A brief intro to life at a public TV station, KCPT in Kansas City

Besides my sabbatical, I would have other issues dogging me in the autumn of 2001: writing and publishing antagonisms.
The planned cover for my New Orleans mystery, “Bourbon & Bliss,” arrived from Dead End Street, my e-book publisher. “Bourbon” was book number five in the Palmer Morel mystery series, my first novel accepted by a publisher, and this cover, a dark-haired babe popping out of her clothes, was more like a cartoon than an effective, sinister approach.
First, if the picture supposedly depicted Bliss, the tall, sexual, ex-volleyball player, it was wrong because Bliss was a blond. Second, the picture did not have any element of New Orleans magic in it, important for the cover: mystery, music, and mood. True, it showed the dark, sensual side of Bourbon Street, but it was trashy, not magical. The women on the cover might have been seen in the topless places, or as streetwalkers, but they did not emulate the physicality or background of my two leading ladies, Bliss McCarthy and Corky Kennedy. I e-mailed a message to John Rutledge, my publisher and editor, hoping for improvement.
Next on my agenda was setting up a schedule to get my sabbatical going at KCPT, the public television station near Thirty-First and Main.
After a long series of phone calls to Warren Maus’s secretary, Lois Martin, frequent e-mails and fretting, I finally set up a time to begin. Warren Maus, the 55-year-old Vice President of Marketing and Development, had been a fellow English teacher at Johnson County Community College some twenty years ago. We had occasionally played tennis together and had a good, mocking relationship.
Now, after working various other jobs, one at the VFW, he was in charge of all the KCPT auctions, all the phone calls, and all the letters requesting donations. Warren was an important cog in the KCPT money-raising scheme.
His office was located in the old Channel 5 building, under the huge, rust-colored TV tower so prominent in the Kansas City skyline. This building had at one time been a drug store frequented by Harry S. Truman.
Today, he was busy debriefing his team concerning the TV auction that, over the weekend, had netted the station about $250,000, a very good sign. Also, KCPT had celebrated its fortieth anniversary, and the national chair of PBS had been one of the honorable visitors. On Saturday, Jim Brickman, the pianist, had played at Starlight, a popular, local outdoor theater in Swope Park, as part of the celebration.
Warren was wearing a blue button-down shirt with a tie. He also was wearing a pair of those new, small oval eyeglasses. His mustache was full-blown, and his longish black/gray hair swept back from his forehead, a few spikes on unruly hair sticking up on top.
He really did not have much prepared for me this first day. In fact, Warren seemed disorganized, not ready for an intern who wanted action. Instead, the visit became more of an orientation.
However, his detailed explanation of the latest TV auction was thorough and enlightening. Showing me chart after chart, spreadsheet after spreadsheet, Warren pointed out how much better KCPT’s fund-raising was doing in comparison to other cities of similar size.
Turning the charts around on his desk so I could read them, Warren used a pencil to point out salient facts, and his ability to read these numbers upside down amazed me. Furthermore, he explained, even though KCPT took in $250,000, he still felt two more weekend sessions would be needed.
Frequently interrupting the flow of his explanation, conducting business via the phone or checking his e-mail, he kept talking, giving me a lesson on finances in 45 minutes, always able to get back to the figures after being summoned by a secretary or by another KCPT operative.
Soon, he personally took me on a tour of the old building next door, now being converted to studios and storage, mostly. I noticed many signs posted, reading, “Danger: Asbestos.” Thinking to myself, I wondered: What is the danger from asbestos: inhalation of particles, asthma, cancer?
We weaved our way around workmen and equipment, over piles of wire and cable, through office areas, sound stages and up and down stairways. A monitor in a glassed enclosed room showed “Barney” on cable for Kansas City’s kids.
We passed through the small sound stage set up for the auctions, about fifteen phone stations, a booth for the technician and a stage floor where the volunteers stood and gave the KCPT spiel. It was quite a bit different from the time some ten years ago when I had volunteered to be a phone call taker; the room seemed smaller and more compact.
Stepping through a doorway to another stage, we saw video-operators preparing the set for the show “Conversations with Cynthia Smith,” to be shot today at noon for replay sometime in the future. No one seemed to know the guest Cynthia was going to interview. Cynthia, now KCPT’s Vice-President for Content & Communications, was an ex-big-time, local news anchor who had retired from local television and never went back to it, preferring public TV instead.
After the formal tour of the old building, we went back to the refurbished area, formerly a printer’s shop that housed Warren’s office and many others. Part of the flooring near Warren’s office could not be laid properly because the ink from the old printing presses had super-saturated the wood, so the glue for the new floor would not stick to it. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off this area.
In quick succession, I met Warren’s secretary, Lois, and Bonnie Rabicoff, Director of Auction who formerly had worked with ex-Mayor Richard Berkley. Bonnie makes presentations about KCPT to various influential groups. Today, Bonnie would give a presentation at noon and I was invited to attend.
Interesting to me, Warren had introduced me today, laughingly, as the “boy intern,” since I was so obviously older than KCPT’s usual interns. Knowing Warren’s sense of humor, I didn’t take offense at the time, but later I would think his sarcasm was his real attitude toward having someone in his space. Didn’t he take my assignment here seriously?
Then, before Bonnie’s presentation (Warren called it an SOS meeting. Why, I don’t know.), I had a chance to do some typing on Chapter Twenty-Two of my novel, “Gulf Ghost,” as well as have a cup of coffee in the little, exposed lounge area in the middle of the corridor: cold, aluminum chairs, coffee makers and cups, four machines, one dispensing sandwiches that was “leaking” again one employee commented, as he passed by.
At approximately 12:04, Bonnie introduced me to the three people who would be present at her meeting: one woman from the Nelson Gallery, one man from MARC, and another woman with some college affiliation I didn’t catch.
So, we all walked over to the old building and took seats on the darkened set of the Auction, each one of us getting a chair and a phone on the risers. Once seated, my neighbor, Mike, introduced himself and after I told him I was helping Warren, Mike said, “Welcome aboard.” I felt I was on some kind of runaway train.
Since KCPT has until 2003 to get ready for digital operation, Bonnie’s presentation was an attempt to work up support for the concept, and to get cooperation between those colleges that might use such a community network. Together with a former teacher who now directs programming at KCPT, Bonnie showed us a series of digital/computer-like streaming videos that could be used in education institutions or by viewers at home once DM becomes operational.
Wally Amos, of “Famous Amos” cookies, was on the screen reading to children. Bonnie explained that this DM program could be stopped and other items downloaded for in-depth learning. Each of the Amos reading programs (30 minutes in length) was said to cost $150,000, very expensive education for 30 minutes, I thought, especially since five to seven new teachers could be purchased for a year at the same price. Couldn’t a teacher simply call Wally Amos or someone else just as famous to come and read to the students, live, in person and for free? Was I wrong to doubt the efficacy of these new formats?
Then, all of us were served a boxed lunch (chicken salad, fruit, cookies, bottled water) from ‘Californo’s,’ a Westport restaurant. The plastic containers were noisy to open, and since the presentation had started, most of us hesitated opening our lunches, but did eventually begin eating as quietly as possible.
Afterwards, going out into the bright sunshine, I took photos of the KCPT exterior, the large tower, the construction going on in front of the old building. I was curious. How were the workmen handling the dangerous asbestos? They seemed to be throwing everything in a big trash bin parked outside on 31st Street, some of the trash littering the street and sidewalk.
Soon, I was driving down Main to Pitch Weekly at its new address, checking out its exact location so I would find it easily the next day.
After reconnoitering the area, I returned to the JCCC campus to pick up a laptop computer to use at KCPT, in case Warren could not find me a workstation or cubicle of my own. Later, I discovered the battery was not working properly, stymieing my goal of being a self-sufficient computer operator. Maybe I’d have to buy a used laptop over the net.