This week while Tropical Storm Michael was coming ashore in the Florida panhandle, a video went viral of NBC reporter Kerry Sanders nearly getting blown off his feet while live on the air. Fortunately for Kerry, Jim Cantore of the weather channel was nearby waiting for his satellite time and was able to come over and help Kerry remain upright despite losing his hard hat.
Source: NBC News The Weather Channel and NBC are competitors; The Weather Channel is owned by The Weather Group LLC.; a consortium that was owned by NBC Universal (Comcast), The Blackstone Group and Bain Capital until it was sold to Entertainment Studios earlier this year. But despite that competition, Jim did not hesitate to come over and help Kerry out. He did it in a way that the viewers at the time could not tell that he was the one rendering aid. He saw a fellow broadcaster in a tight place and came quietly over to assist.
When I saw the viral video on U-Tube my first reaction was to think that it is good to know that there can be cooperation in the middle of competition: the band of broadcasters is as strong today as it used to be. It also reminded me of some of the terrible weather conditions that was the background to one of the most memorable events of my career.
My scariest moment came while I was at WIS Television and Radio One winter’s day in the early 70’s, a low pressure center came up from the Gulf of Mexico and into the very cold air mass in place over the Carolinas. That day, we started to get ice pellets, freezing rain and 20 – 30 knot winds in the early afternoon. I was in master control getting things set up in the studio while Tom our studio supervisor was at the remote site aiming the microwave transmitter on the roof of the Carolina Coliseum at the receiver located on a steel grid platform some 350 feet up our 400 foot self standing tower downtown at the studio. He called me on the radio saying that he had the transmitter on and it was time for us to align it to the receiver.
We tried for an hour but the best we could do was to get a marginal signal from the receiver. It was a real possibility that we would not be able to broadcast the Carolina Men’s Basketball game. This was a really big deal. It was the Frank McGuire as head coach era and losing this game would have a huge financial impact on the station. I began to wonder if there was a problem with the receiver so I did my Kerry Sanders/Jim Cantore imitation walking out onto the ice covered parking lot in the wind with a pair of binoculars to look up the tower at the 4 foot parabolic dish on the receiver.
Sure enough, despite being carefully secured by steel wires after it was aimed at the Coliseum the month before, the high winds had popped one of the wires and the dish was now 20 degrees out of alignment. Someone had to climb the tower, realign the receiver and secure it back. The roads were nearly impassible so calling in a tower crew was not an option. It was up to our 58 year old chief engineer or 29-year-old me. He handed me the portable radio and said be careful up there. Now just to be sure, this radio was not a handheld that could be stuffed into my back pocket. It was an 8 inch, by 3 inch by 6 inch brick that weighed about 20 pounds with its battery and antenna attached.
So on went my knit hat, my gloves, my tool-belt and my heavy jacket. The radio was firmly strapped to my back. All I had with me were my street shoes, they would have to do. I slip-slided across the roof top of Studio A, and made my way over to the tower leg closest to the door that led out from Master Control. I must admit that my eyes got pretty big and round as I looked up the 350 feet that I was about to climb. The rungs of the ladder going up the tower were covered in a quarter inch layer of rime ice. It was at that moment that Larry Verne’s famous words from the song “Mr. Custer” crossed my mind “What am I doin' here?”
Still being young and immortal, I put that thought behind me and started up the tower. Mind you, this was in the days before OSHA work safety regulations had real teeth, so there was no safety strap, no hitches, no nothing. My “safety net” was the small triangle of steel girders that made up the tower’s structure. In my naivety, I was sure that I could grab one of those if I slipped.
To make a long story short, somehow I made up to the receiver and using the radio to talk to master control below and the remote site a mile away, we got the receiver lined back up and locked down. Just to be sure, I added five more tie down wires as there was no way I was going to climb this tower again. Up there on that ice coated steel grate, with wind driven ice pellets bouncing off every part of me. I realized how stupid that stunt was.
My second tower story occurred in 1977 or 78 when we were planning on the installation of our Marti remote system at WIS Radio. We needed a point high enough to cover most of the state so we thought the 1,250 foot tall WIS Television tower would be a good choice. It was my job to do a site survey on the tower to see if there was a good place to mount the repeater so that we would have the coverage we wanted. This was going to be different, I thought. I chose a beautiful day, with light and variable winds to ride the tower elevator up to the 1,000 foot steel grid platform and have a look. This will be easy-peasy I thought as I boldly stepped aboard the single person elevator that measured 2 ½ by 2 1/2 feet by 6 ½ foot. On the way up, my confidence waned as I realized two things; the elevator has the same dimensions as a coffin, and that a tower that tall moves around in the slightest wind. When I got to 1,000 feet, the structure was inscribing a 4 to 6 foot figure 8 in the light wind. Fortunately there was a tower painter’s harness available and you can bet I used it. Also, knowing that I was going up the tower that day, I had my old Navy issued Chucka boots on as well.
That cured me! I was no longer young and immortal and I have never climbed a tower since then. What’s more, I never will. Oh MY!
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