Walter Schoenknecht

Dead air thoroughly disturbs broadcasters... sends a chill down the spine. It begs questions about potential unfulfilled, about loss, about trouble. Is there a problem? Is everything all right? What happened?

Grab a beverage of choice, maybe a bowl of nuts or chips, start a game of Minesweeper, and curl up with the telephone

So who was it, I want to know, who decreed that an edit suite must be lit like an anthracite seam at midnight?

How'd you like your client to be in the movies? Bet I could arrange it for you.

But the simple fact is that since the infamous events of September 2001, business -- all business -- has been bad. Not "so-so," not "could be better," just downright bad.

I can tell you that last year was a good year for us, because we were asked to do at least one job the right way... our way.

Among the many creaky aphorisms I'm fond of dropping on those around me, none reflects that good ol' American bottom-line sensibility as much as this one: "You get nothin' for nothin'."

As in medicine, the highly focused television specialist lives and works at the pinnacle of his or her art. So what could be more exciting than when specialist meets specialist?

It's in every content creator's best interests to add yet another specialty to his or her list of marketable skills: Compressionist.

Last year, I successfully tracked down John Vrba, a man I've never met but whom I'd known vicariously for more than 25 years.

My earliest recollections of the use of stock footage conjure up three descriptions: expensive, difficult, ugly.