Breakdown, shmeakdown

Even by the tumultuous standards of life in the Idoldome, Wednesday’s gathering for the ceremonial removal of Ramiele Malubay was circus-like beyond and above expectations. First the group rendition of “9 to 5,” with the singers wandering into the crowd and onto Simon’s desk, kicked the night off with a lively festival atmosphere. But quickly the mood pendulum swung the other way, as Brooke White, upon learning she was in the bottom three, broke into hysterical convulsions the minute the show went to break and had to be consoled by seemingly the entire production staff before she could take her place again.

Then, during the next break, someone in the mosh pit -- reportedly a young woman -- standing directly in front of the stools where Ramiele and Kristy Lee Cook awaited their fates collapsed. With two minutes to air, medics raced into the room, through the crowd and to the ailing woman. As precious seconds ticked by, the woman finally managed to get to her feet and was helped out with just more than a minute to air.

And finally, upon hearing her fate, Ramiele herself broke down. As her goodbye video aired, her fellow contestants and the crew huddled around to try to get her into shape for her looming goodbye song, which she managed to get through before being assisted off stage.

And all of this happening live -- or just off camera -- before the largest weekly audience in television.

On Wednesday, as at every taping in the Idoldome, whatever disaster may threaten, riding herd on it all, calling out orders to the crew, to the cast and to the audience over the loudspeaker, presiding as the circus master of the whole affair was one pixie-faced, gum-chewing woman striding the stage in a sweat shirt and drooping hobo hat with a sassy nasal drawl suggestive of a film noir gangland moll.

For Debbie Williams, the stage manager of “American Idol” since its second episode, the environment of a circus feels like home. Williams was born to a pair of medal-winning ice skaters. At 2, she joined her parents’ touring ice show, spending the next 13 years on the road with Ice Follies and Holiday on Ice. She moved to Los Angeles in the 1970s after being offered a job as a dancer on “Donny & Marie.” After the series ended, she sought a more stable career in television working as a production coordinator, then a producer. After the birth of her son, she sought even more stable work in stage management, becoming the only female member of a very small group of six or so people who produce America’s giant television spectacles. (Her credits include the award-show triple crown -- the Oscars, Emmys and Grammys.)

That ‘little show’

But Williams’ place in history really took shape in 2002 when a friend told her that a new show was being produced by Nigel Lythgoe and Ken Warwick, dancers like herself, and asked if she was interested in a job. Williams recalled: “We thought it was just a silly little summer series. I mean, if you take a look at the tapes back then, it was a little show. We started on that little stage, and we started with a piano player. And they just walked out and sang to the piano, you know?”

As the first season progressed, “we started seeing kids camping around the studio as we were coming into work,” she said. But it wasn’t until after the end of the first season, when the show taped a special episode in Las Vegas, that Williams realized she was part of a phenomenon. “All of a sudden, Ryan [Seacrest] and I are up by the prompter, and they let the doors open to MGM Grand, that big, big, big arena. And people were coming in dressed like Kelly [Clarkson] with the signs. I looked at him and I went, ‘Holy Toledo!’ ”

Six years later, Williams finds herself each week supervising a gargantuan thousand-balls-in-the-air machine as it moves toward Tuesday’s show time. For Williams, preparing for the Tuesday performance show, followed by the Wednesday results show, is a three-day fight against the clock.

“We come in on Mondays. We listen to the music. The kids get to rehearse the music with [bandleader Rickey Minor]. If there’s any problem musically, that’s the time to fix it. Because we don’t have any other time. Once we get there on Tuesday, every second is scheduled.”

What keeps the show feeling spontaneous in Season 7, however, is the ability of the perfectly calibrated machine to dismantle itself and put itself back together again on the whims and instincts of producers Lythgoe and Warwick, working with Williams. “On ‘Idol’ there’s always stuff left to question,” she said. “That’s what I love about it, because it’s kind of a free-for-all in that if instinctually something happens in rehearsal and Nigel wants to change it, everybody just goes with the flow. We have changed that show 15 minutes before we go on air.”

The judges, it turns out, can be an obstacle: “That’s usually the drama going on . . . whether they’re late, where are they, they’re en route. They’re on La Brea or they’re here. That’s our biggest challenge, getting those judges in those seats at the top of the show.”

‘Idol’ guide

What Williams describes as the best part of her job, however, is working with the handful of young people who make it up to the stage as contestants. It’s something of a mentorship in show business. “We use our time with them to try to teach them the ways, how to be respectful to a crew. No matter how low somebody comes on a food chain, they’re there working to make you look good. Treat everybody like a person and don’t get caught up in your own fame.” The process each week, as Williams tells it, involves trying to gently give the contestants pointers while leaving the power in their hands. “We try to guide them so that things work properly for camera. Some kids may come out there and they start pacing because they think they should pace when they sing. And so I’ll go up to them and say, maybe you don’t need to pace so much. You know, movement for movement’s sake doesn’t mean anything.” However, she continued, “we don’t ever impose, you know, because that’s a big part of the judging. It always has to be their choice and we just -- if we see something that can help it a bit -- we suggest.”

Asked what she thinks of this year’s group, Williams gushed: “These are kids that like each other and they’re pals and some of the older ones are motherly to the younger ones. And they’re fun to be around and they’re nice and they are a little more comfortable. They all have a little more of an idea of what they want to do, which is great. They have a sense of themselves.”

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richard.rushfield@latimes.com