1988 REPUBLICAN NATIONAL CONVENTION : Brief Images : Snap Decisions Guide TV View of Convention

Staging a political convention is a little like setting explosives--once the fuse is lit, things happen pretty fast.

The party professionals can do a lot in advance. They can angle the klieg lights for the proper corona. They can try to “spin” the way reporters view the story. They can even teach southpaw George Bush to gesture with his right hand.

But, for the 40 million to 50 million Americans who watch a convention on television, what is seen is largely a matter of hundreds of snap decisions made by a tiny group of people, those who direct and produce the broadcasts at the four television news networks.

Consider the work of NBC director George Paul and his executive producer, Joseph Angotti.

Networks Get Briefings

The networks get more access than any other news organizations to what the party is planning at a convention and how it will be staged. There are meetings over a period of months and daily briefings from the party’s top people.

But the most important element of politics on television--what pictures go on the air--is decided literally with the snap of a finger and beamed from camera to consciousness.

There is no time for review, just a cut to the next shot every three or four seconds, image upon image, creating a sense of political reality in electronic pentimento.

Director Paul is sitting outside the Superdome in a trailer called the control room, facing a wall with 19 different camera shots on television monitors. To his left sits associate director Pat Lang, keeping track of time and where they are in the program. Technical director Steven Cimino, to his right, executes the orders.

In another trailer next door, connected by an open mike, sits excecutive producer Angotti. He talks to anchorman Tom Brokaw and the correspondents, Paul to the camera operators.

It is opening night in New Orleans. The White House video about the President is ending and a floor demonstration is erupting as Reagan reenters the hall to deliver his speech.

“Stand by nine,” Paul shouts. “Dissolve to nine slowly, through to nine, slowly, through to nine, give me through to nine.”

Snap of Fingers

Paul leans toward the camera he likes, shouts the ready signal and, a second later, calls for the shot with the number and a snap of the fingers.

“Ready five. Five!” he shouts. “Ready twelve. Twelve! Take nine. Where’s five? Take five. Ready nine.”

The images are there only an instant--a man in funny hat, a businessman, a child.

“My job is to amplify what the speaker on the podium is saying,” Paul will explain later. So, even if some large share of a crowd is ignoring the podium, Paul will troll for the emotional pictures.

That is one reason why, even though many delegates cannot hear the speeches on the floor, television is unaffected.

And it also is a reason, Paul agreed, that a convention at which only one-third of the delegates are women looks much more balanced on television.

Cut to a Woman

They cut to a woman looking adoringly at the podium.

“Nice, nice, nice,” Angotti says over the microphone from the other booth.

“Yeah, I know you like tears,” Paul answers. “Give me 11, 11, 12, 12.”

Paul cuts to a shot of a black woman crying. “Finally!” Angotti says, delighted with the show of emotion, and those standing in the back of the studio break into laughter.

Soon, Reagan begins to speak.

“Where is that?” Paul shouts, looking at a text of the Reagan speech.

“He ad-libbed it,” someone says from the back.

“You’re kidding!”

Reagan is talking about Social Security, and Paul orders his camera operators: “Give me some older people.” Reagan is talking about the future, and Paul orders: “Give me some children, I want children!”

Suddenly, not one of the 19 available cameras can find a child.

Shots of Rejoicing

It is sunrise in America again, Reagan says, and Paul is looking for shots of Republicans rejoicing.

“Take seven, take seven.” This is a businessman waving a “Reagan, Four More Years” sign.

“Stand by, six. Watch this one, Joe, take six, there you go Joe”--a baby clapping.

“Take eight”--a man in a suit in exultation.

“Pool one”--back to Reagan. The crowd is cheering. There is a crescendo, and suddenly a moment of great applause.

“Hello, America!” Paul shouts. He is cutting to new shots every few seconds, and suddenly the 60-year-old director is on his feet. He swivels his hips in a twist-like dance and says, as if to the President himself: “Start pumpin’, baby! I’m buying, he’s selling!”