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 From LAID OFF: Tony Capone in front of a dormant Great Northern paper mill. Photo by Andrew Reilly, courtesy the Salt Archive. Click Image for Full View. |
About Salt
From Donna Galluzzo ~ Executive Director, Salt
 |
Pam Wood started Salt in 1973 as a folklore & oral history course at Kennebunk High School in Maine. Students conducted interviews, took photographs, and edited the first issues of Salt magazine. In 1976, students led the effort to incorporate Salt as a nonprofit Maine corporation. Not long after that, Salt moved its headquarters to a Kennebunk boatyard and added boat-building courses to its list of offerings.
The first semester offered to undergraduate students was in 1982. Salt moved a few more times before relocating, in 1989, to 19 Pine Street in Portland. The move to its current location at 110 Exchange, The Salt Building, was made in 1999. Now, graduate and undergraduate students from around the country and the world attend Salt for a 15-weeks of intensive studies in either documentary photography, writing, or radio.
Salt magazine was a quarterly publication for several of these years. Salt also published several books, including The Salt Book and Salt II and, more recently, Maine: A Peopled Landscape.
Much of Salt’s success can be traced to Pam Wood, whose vision shaped Salt and guided it through its first 28 years. Her tenacity, her commitment to teaching and to students, and her belief that “less is more” are important aspects of Salt today.
Johnny Comes Home
Produced by Rupa Marya
PRODUCER NOTES:
 Portrait of Iraq War veteran John Marchelletta Photo by Danee Voorhees, courtesy the Salt Archive. |
John Marchelletta’s story is one we are not hearing in the mass media. Aside
from the daily escalating number of US casualties in Iraq, there is an
increasing population of people who are returning home physically unharmed, but
still suffering emotionally from the combat experience. A 24-year old Marine veteran, John tells us why he has trouble
sleeping at night now that he is home safe in Maine. He tells us how he
tries to find peace with a horrible incident in which two Iraqi girls were
accidentally killed. Produced in the fall of 2003, his story is one that almost every returning veteran shares, in one version or another.
Jaz – The Cleaning Lady
Produced by Jamie York
PRODUCER NOTES:
Jaz came in every day for lunch at the café where I worked after I graduated
from college. She had the light in her eyes and a voracious appetite for
conversation. While she ate we’d talk about whatever she was studying and
only later did I learn that she funded her academic learning by professionally cleaning. When I came back to Portland to go to Salt I thought first of Jaz and she agreed to let me record in her slipstream. Produced in the fall of 2000, this was the first radio piece I ever made and I hope I did her justice.
Laid Off
Produced by Rebecca Griffin
PRODUCER NOTES:
My collaborating photographer, Drew Reilly, found the guys in “Laid Off.” He
was talking to people in a little restaurant in downtown Millinocket. The
town’s paper mill had been closed for several months and guys from the mill were
spending a lot of time downtown. Drew is from New Jersey, so when he heard Tony
Capone’s Brooklyn accent leaping out from all those Maine accents, he felt
like he’d stumbled on someone from home. Tony is always telling stories, and he
had a way of making the mill layoffs sound like a great epic.
Drew introduced me to Tony and Gerry and we spent a lot of time with those
two guys over about three months. We had dinner at Gerry’s house with his wife,
went to class with them and just spent time hanging out in Tony’s apartment,
where he makes leather belts. Tony and Gerry had really become friends after
the mill closures because they were in algebra class together. Gerry’s Maine
accent fits in perfect contrast to Tony’s voice. When I was editing the tape, I
thought of Gerry as telephone poles — sturdy, solid posts on which to hang
Tony’s colorful story telling.
Roadway Renaissance Man
Produced by Carla Neufeldt
PRODUCER NOTES:
I was struck by the ways in which Tom Nunes engaged with his work. He has
an amazingly healthy perspective on–and relationship with–his job. Tom
appears to see it for what it is. While he harbors no illusions about toll
collecting as a life-altering, universe-stopping kind of a job, he has found
the places where he can push the envelope a bit, and so he does. Not for
the sake of being a difficult employee (which he isn’t–his supervisor and
colleagues all seem to adore him), but in order to make his work more
meaningful while he’s there. And when he goes home at night, he shelves his
toll job until he shows up at his booth the next day. He honestly doesn’t
stew about his work in the way so many of us do. Nor is his identity
wrapped up in what he does for a living. God, people can spend years in
therapy trying to achieve this kind of balance–and for Tom, it really seems
effortless.
The Producers
About Rupa Marya
Rupa Marya came to radio as another step in her work in humanism.
The American-born daughter of Indian immigrants who spent part of her childhood in France, Rupa’s sense of place in the world has made her at home
everywhere and nowhere.
As an undergraduate, Rupa double-majored in theater and biochemistry and
pursued additional studies in philosophy, beginning her formal studies of
people from the minute molecules to the masses. She spent time after college
writing and performing original music in San Francisco and Atlanta before
she went to medical school at Georgetown University. There she learned how
to integrate some of her work in art and science in caring for patients
holistically. After graduating medical school and returning home to do residency
at University of California, San Francisco, she wanted to take a hiatus
to develop her humanistic side after the long hours of internship when young
doctors become doctors. Rupa went to Salt to do just this. Her stories at Salt demonstrate the theme of how global
policies have deeply personal effects on seemingly ordinary individuals. She
hopes to develop this theme in her future work as she returns to San
Francisco to complete residency in tandem with continuing radio documentary
work at UCSF, following a new flexible track in training physicians that
allows time for both pursuits.
About Jamie York
Jamie York attended Salt in the Fall of 2000. His radio career began at
Sound Portraits, where he helped produce the Youth Portraits series and The
Execution Tapes. More recently, he was the New York Coordinator for The
Sonic Memorial Project, taught WNYC’s Radio Rookies and produced a special
for American Radio Works. He is a recipient of an emerging leader grant from
the Ford Foundation.
About Rebecca Griffin
Two years ago, I was a newspaper reporter. I came to Salt because I’d been
harboring this secret wish to make radio documentaries out of my newspaper
stories. I was so clueless on how to do this that I was embarrassed to tell people
what, exactly, I was going to school to learn.
But there’s no place like Salt for getting you to face your fears. You just
get out there with these headphones and a huge microphone and say, “Hey! I make
radio stories! Want to talk to me?”
Since Salt, I’ve moved to Medford, Massachusetts, where I live with my
boyfriend Matt. I’ve interned at Living on Earth and I’ve become an official Car Talk Lackey (a production intern). Basically, I help screen calls at Car Talk. I’m also working on a few independent radio stories and riding my bike a lot.
To pay bills, I’m a hospital telephone operator, where I hear lots of interesting voices and stories, but I have to process calls in about 30 seconds — so they’re all “shorts,” so to speak.
About Carla Neufeldt
Carla Neufeldt’s parent’s cut the family’s cable subscription when she was
seven. Frustrated, Carla eventually found herself listening to old episodes
of Jack Benny, The Lone Ranger, A Prairie Home Companion, and other campy
radio programs. She’s been entranced by radio ever since. While at Smith College, Carla took time off to attend Salt, where she enthusiastically dove into documentary radio. Her work has aired on Maine Public Radio and San Francisco’s KQED.
…
Producer Essays >>>
Learn more about Salt from its director and former participants.
The Salt Institute for Documentary Studies is dedicated to chronicling life around the state of Maine, but it is also turning out talent. Young radio producers go to learn their craft there and it seems to be working because much of the output is broadcast worthy, better even than much of what you hear on the radio. We picked a few samples for you (along with companion photographs from the documentary photography students), partly because they are vaguely connected through the thread of JOBS–the mind favors thematic groupings–but mostly, we selected them because, while the forms are conventional enough and would fit within your standard public radio format, each one contains at least one surprise, something you didn’t expect, generally something that makes you recognize a fellow human being.
NOTE: These pieces, along with a lot more from the Salt students are now available at the Public Radio Exchange (PRX) for stations to license/download and for listeners to review. Check them out. They’d make a good special, strung together, which is what we’re going to do with them at our station.
I was transfixed by this piece. It is so clean. There is no narrator, no spin from the reporter. I was so riveted by the narrative that I barely noticed the music. Great work.
janice gully
Wow. I wonder at the variety of reactions among various listeners, as Johnny publicly struggles with his conscience. And the discussions in journalism schools that this piece might inspire.
I was drawn right in by his tone, his manner of speech, his way of putting things. The story itself was suspenseful, even though I kind of knew what was coming. The attention to detail was exquisite, giving the story a sense of accuracy that seems to render discussions of objectivity and subjectivity moot.
One can only hope that radio stations are not afraid of stories without easy answers, stories that invite us all to help Johnny struggle with his conscience, as I think this piece so effectively does.
Thanks to Phil and JP for getting the ball rolling. Your comments are greatly appreciated. The students who produced the four pieces featured here at Transom are VERY eager to hear your thoughts. In each case, this work is their first ever. As the Director of the radio program at Salt, I , too, am VERY interested to see what people have to say. To be frank, it sometime’s feels like we conduct our work in a vacuum — it certainly isn’t an ivory tower — and having comments from peers and others "from away" as we say in Maine, would be terribly useful. I’m also happy to answer questions about Salt and the radio program. Just fire away. Cheers, Rob
I want to mention that our friends at POV Online have put up a new installment of their "Borders" project, this one on ENVIRONMENT, and Salt graduate Gregory Warner created four audio pieces for them, some with an accompanying photographic slide show by another Salt alum, Betty Bastidas.
The POV site is elegant. Check it out:
http://www.pbs.org/pov/borders/2004/water/index.html
Thanks so much to all the salt alumni and Rob for an excellent body of work, it was really tough choosing which pieces to feature.
A couple of questions: Can you give us an idea of how long these pieces took to produce, and were there any surprises along the way? Is making radio what you thought it would be?
When I began I was amazed to find that regular people say the most profound things, just in general conversation; but I am not sure if that is because you listen so much more intently (and again and again and again) whilst editing so you hear every word and nuance. SO has it changed how you listen to people?
And one for Rob, how is the Salt institute regarded in Portland. You must be quite well known as documentors of all things Maine-y. Do you have much to do with the students choices of subjects?
Portland is SUCH a cool city. I wanted to move there a few years ago just for the fabulous fish market down on the quay… oh yes and the excellent bars. It must be a great place to live and learn radio. Has the institute’s move from coastal village to the city change it at all?
Helen,
Lots of great questions. I’ll let the students respond to the questions regarding changing perceptions and surprises.
The semester at Salt is 15 weeks long. It is intense and arduous. We cover all things radio in fifteen weeks — from field recording to digital editing to scripting writing to narrative arc.
It takes just about the whole 15 weeks to produce two pieces. Students typically have had little to no experience.
We start talking about story ideas on the first day. During the first month, folks are busy producing a promo and a vox pop to learn some technical skills. But, at the same time, they are conducting research and contacting possible "subjects." Once the techy stuff is covered, we focus on interviewing and story development. For the latter third of the semester, we write scripts, edit, and move back to ProTools at the same time second stories are being worked on.
Yes, sounds confusing. But, we believe that working on the various aspects of production on two stories simultaneously reflects real-world work.
You should have moved to Portland.
I can’t imagine living anywhere else (although I’ve grown quite fond of Newfoundland).
When Salt moved from somewhat sleepy Kennebunk, Maine, to Portland, the stories started to change as did the student body — we moved from teaching high school students to teaching graduate and undergraduate students.
The writing and photo essays morphed from folksy features on "carriers of tradition" to a narrative journalism approach on stories with an urban feel as well as "old school Salt stories." Keep in mind, too, Salt was born at a time when folkways preservation and oral history collection was fairly prevelent. We emerged around the same time as Foxfire and the "back to the land" movement.
Another advantage to moving to Portland and working with older students is we cover more of the state. The early years at Salt focused on Southern Maine — which is still true — but we cover all of the state now.
Mind you, I’ve only been at Salt for four years and I don’t have all the 30 year history fully memorized. But, I think this is fairly accurate.
Students choose their own stories. I certainly chime in with leads and thoughts. And I participate in the grueling discussions surrounding the ever challenging question: "So what’s the story?" But, story selection is very much a bottom-up process.
Salt has a mixed reputation. On one hand, many folks have not heard of us even though we’ve been around for 30 years and we currently occupy a four story building with great visibility and a ground floor gallery in Portland’s Old Port. On the other hand, the folks who know Salt LOVE IT. Students either have to explain it from scratch or the door immediately opens wide.
Thanks for the questions!!
Rob
Thanks for the thoughtful comments about Johnny Comes Home. The pieces on the Salt page of PRX feature more wonderful stories by various Salt radio students. It’s great that transom and PRX are available to the radio community.
To Helen, yes making radio does change the way you hear the things people say and the sounds in your environment. Producing stories like these with a high attention to detail makes us more sensitive. At Salt, the structure of the radio class allows the sensitivity and intuition of one student to affect the rest of us in the room. Post-Salt, some of the radio students have convened on a regular basis here and in NYC to share ideas and support new work.
I’m also a musician, so listening has always involved rhythm and tone but now there’s something different that I focus on because of this kind of work. Now I notice the texture and definition that a voice has and what those qualities lend to a story. They can totally shape a piece, especially if the piece is sparse. I pay attention to that more now, and it makes hanging out with my friends (who all have wonderful voices) even juicier.
As a fledgling producer, even though I’ve worked on pieces that tell stories of other people, they’ve all come from a place of trying to find a resolution to some very personal query from within. (As someone recently brought to my attention… I’m consumed with unanswerable questions.) So I was deeply struck by how, in each of these stories, the producer made so much room—was so much a facilitator—for the expression of the person (or persons) that the piece was about—that they each seemed not so much to tell a "story", as to tell a " person". Not to diminish the larger questions and issues these pieces raise—it just seemed like such a wonderful strength, and I wondered if and/or how it was due to Salt’s "school of thought". Maybe it’s just something I never really understood about the documentary process before, but it made me acutely aware of the manner in which I’ve clung to telling my own stories—that there are other avenues out there and many other dimensions to be found.
Sue,
The question you raise is something we wrestle with all the time. I’ll try to answer briefly even though that’s not part of my character.
We regularly have discussions surrounding the following question: "Whose story is it?" which is what I think you are asking about. The answer tends to be twofold.
On one hand, it’s the producer’s story. They have the talent, skills, and training to tell a compelling, sound-rich story for radio. Indeed, it is the producer that "directs" or "conducts" the story.
On the other hand, it is, ultimately, the "subject’s" story. It is insanely important for the producer to recognize that they have been handed a gift — an individual has welcomed a producer into their lives, they are freely giving much of themselves, and they are trusting the producer to do justice to the "subject’s" story. So, ultimately, in my mind, it is the "subject’s" story and the producers to tell. It’s an important and valuable distinction.
You can blur this line quite a bit by collaborating with a subject in the telling of the story. A great example of that is "A Family Yarn" by Rupa Marya which can be found on Salt’s PRX page. In this case, the "subject" narrates the story and the story line was worked out, in part, with the "subject." That approach is quite taboo in journalism but something we are interested in exploring at Salt.
One other way to think about your question is this: We keep the pronoun "I" under lock and key. We take it out only when we think use of "I" will help to serve the story and the "subject" because documentary work is not about the documentarian but about the documentee.
Lastly, I would point you to the work of Studs Turkel. And, for radio, we spend a great deal of time listening to the work of Dave Isay (soundportraits.org) and Joe Richman (radiodiaries.org) among others. In Dave and Joe’s case, their "subjects" frequently narrate or tell their stories without the help of a "voice of god" narrator. This is VERY HARD TO DO, especially for first time producers. But Dave and Joe’s approach is a unique way to answer "Whose story is it?" and it informs our thinking here at Salt.
Hope that helps.
Rob
Transom fields dozens of "What mic/minidisc should I buy?" questions each week.
The sound quality of the Salt pieces was uniformly good. Does Salt have remote rigs it sends out with people? What mics and machines do you all prefer these days? This question is for Rob and also the producers. Feel free to offer advice about using the equipment too.
Isn’t Gear Talk relaxing?
Ahhhh, the gear question.
Field gear: Currently, Salt students are using handheld Sony decks — MZ-NF810CK. Prior to last semester, we used Marantz PMD222 cassette decks. Our mics are EV RE-50s along with two Audio Technica AT835 shotgun mics and a Beyer Dynamic shotgun (can’t remember the model number) complete with pistol grip, shock mount, zeppelin, and wind sock (affectionately referred to as the "dead cat.")
Studio gear: In the mic booth, EV RE-20. We have a 12 channel Mackie mixer wired to a Mac G4 with ProTools LE. We also use three iMacs with ProTools Free. Tannoy studio speakers blow out the windows. And we also use a consumer grade CD player and cassette deck.
As for using the field equipment:
Always wear headphones. It’s a state law in Maine.
Watch your levels.
Place the mic in lollipop or ice cream cone position (thanks to Claire from Blunt/Youth Radio Project for that analogy). Or, to coin a phrase from the photography faculty at Salt, "Use shoe leather." Get in close to people.
Let your interviewees in on the need for good sound. Tell them that you want them to sound good and here is what needs to happen to accomplish that….
Check the levels again.
Keep wind and ambient sound at your back.
Control the elements. To the best of your ability, record elements separately. Mic ambient sound from afar and near. Collect ambient sound where ever you go including a minute or two in quiet rooms.
Repeat level check.
Rob
Sue,
Your comment about each your stories resolving a personal query is interesting. I agree that these four pieces and a lot of the work at Salt radio do construct a lot of room for the subject’s story. With my piece, I went there interviewing him for a total of 8 hours and just hanging out without taping for another bit of time. It wasn’t until more than halfway through that I realized what the story would focus on, because it struck a deep chord in me, and it was the story John kept alluding to, sideways when we were hanging out watching TV and then when we were recording. He wanted to tell this story. So I think the choice I made to focus the seven minutes on that story was partially personal and also due to having some awareness of the larger gravitational pull in the room between us.
I think the center of gravity of a story has a natural pull and it is our job to find it, to let ourselves be sensitive to it and to explore it responsibly once we get there.
One of the stories in our group by Kate Sullivan was about Portland’s High School Cafeteria. Somewhere in the beginning of the semester, she said she wanted to do a story about school lunch- how it’s made, what it is, how the kids react to it. She didn’t want to do an issue piece, didn’t want anything too complicated. And she was going to follow around the lunch lady, a firespark woman who insisted at the first meeting that she didn’t want to talk about the race issue.
What race issue?
So Kate said, no of course not, I just want to do a story on school lunch! And over the course of 8 weeks, it became clearer that the race issue had to be addressed. Because there were two seating areas in the cafeteria (an upper caf and a lower caf) and the kids were racially segregating themselves- more so after fights erupted post-9/11 and partially because of the setup of the caf- and the kids were talking about it. Portland is one of the refugee resettlement areas in the US, so its high school has an extremely diverse population (some 40 languages are spoken there). However, Maine continues to be the whitest state in the nation.
So her story changed, morphed because she let it. And what emerged was a thoughtful sensitive portrait of a lunch room, tended to by a slightly out of touch lunch lady, focusing on race through a story about school lunch. It was brilliant but incredibly difficult.
So I think a story has a center of gravity, a story that needs ot be told. Other excellent reading on this matter is Agee’s Let Us Now Praise Famous Men (Agee is tortured by how to tell another’s story) and Doing Documentary Work by my personal hero, Robert Coles. If you want to see how others have dealt thoughtfully with these things, give them a look.
"the center of gravity of a story" Wow—I love that.
I’ve always been fascinated by the differences between the stories that people are trying to tell and the ones that they’re actually revealing—my strongest creative impulse seems to be to give "voice" to the things that other people don’t say (can’t, don’t or won’t) but I still keep thinking that/ wondering if there’s a difference between that and trying to capture one story on tape only to discover something else. I think one of the great joys of taping is that you never really know what you’re going to find and how intensely "in the present" that experience feels.
In a way, your story about Kate’s piece, still leaves me with the same question about my own approach. For instance… it sounds as though Kate perhaps had some particular memory of school lunch, or of being a kid that was the impetus for her choice of subject but that it resulted in her stumbling upon a much deeper and complex story which she then felt a desire and a responsibility to tell. If this had been me, for example…there probably would have been some additional (if not dominant) theme of my own personal drama/ history/ memories of school lunch and what that meant to me—that I feel a strong need and/ or desire to be a character in the piece itself and it was so interesting to me to hear these stories where the producer was really "outside" even if/when they were present narratively in the piece. I’m not saying in any way that one approach is better than the other—only that it pointed something up to me vividly.
The way you portray John Marchelletta reveals him and his struggle with " the uncertainty of their deaths" and how it "breeds uncertainty" in his mind and it also gives the listener a sense of your (the producer’s) questions about war, and responsibility, and the effects on a single human being of policies created by governments that create that situation in the first place—and reflects your gracefulness and artfulness as an editor. (In finding myself discussing "Johhny Comes Home", although the situation is utterly different… I can’t help but see the "revealing" similarities between John’s themes and my own in Girl Detectives–the guilt, the feelings of responsibility, how in the face of death we seem to always think that we should have been able to do more…)
Would you talk more about how you came to interview John in particular? In terms of our conversation here, did you have specific expectations of what you were looking for and/or hoped you would find when you first went in? What exactly was the hook for you creatively in choosing him? In the Salt profiles, the theme or your work is described as being about "how global policies have deeply personal effects on seemingly ordinary individuals"—that certainly could well describe this piece, but was a theme of this breadth what you brought in with you to John? How much did you know about him or the incident of the little girls before you went in? Were there things that you wanted or hoped for and didn’t get?
(And thanks for the suggestions about Agee and Coles.)
I met John through his amazing family, the Marchellettas. The family was the subject of another piece I did on their family yarn mill. John’s grandmother, Ruth, was the main storyteller of the yarn story and it was through knowing her and her family that I came to know John.
I just assumed there had to be an important story there and because he was a Marchelletta, I knew it would be a good time getting to know him. The trust I gained with his family prior to knowing him made entering his life and asking him questions about his fresh experience less disruptive, I think. The story he tells is just a little clip of several hours of stories, each one compelling for a different reason. John was a cook in the Marines for four years and was cooking up steak in Kuwait prior to putting down his spatula for a rifle and going to war. He’s insightful, thoughtful and engaged in a struggle. The stories found me, rather than me finding them.
What did others think about their subjects? Like with Jaz. How much did the other producers know of their subjects beforehand and how did you narrow in on what to tell and what to leave out.
It’s like taking a photograph, just as important is what you exclude as what it is you’re framing.
A great deal of the conversation that we had my radio semester was about this issue of framing. Especially in producing portraits, a form that I love. Rob has already written about trying to make sense of "whose story is it?" But Salt was the first place I had really wrestled with my responsibility and it in many ways remains the best place yet because I bought the time to really hash it out – without deadlines looming. How do you highlight the compelling aspects of someone in 7 minutes and not unfairly reduce them? Or worse edit them to fit a predetermined argument (e.g., thoughtful, creative people do seemingly rote work). Jaz raised these issues of representation that I’ve been trying to answer ever since. I loved her voice and the way she confounded my expectations about most everything but she’s idiosyncratic enough so that she could be played for laughs. I really worried about that. Conveying people is a sloppy exercise. Jaz, like most everyone, is a lovely group of people and she’s full of stories that highlight this. I left out the story about some of her male coworkers sabotaging her when she worked in construction, almost killing her. But the second chapter of the piece (speaking of sloppy exercises) was an attempt to ensure that her depth and weariness were as evident as her savant-like take on cleanliness and order. That’s what I read as a real way to tell the story after spending a lot of time with her It’s interesting to think that Rupa might have found something altogether different. It’s even more interesting to think what Jaz’s portrait of me would sound like.
I’m curious how other Salt students have negotiated the responsibility of producing and how the Salt documentary approach translates in the marketplace?
I enjoyed the piece, ‘Johnny Comes Home’. Much like the other members of this forum, I admired the smooth editing and "no-narator" style. Before listening, I had read SALT’s mission statement and even sent off for some information about the institute. As I listened, I suspected the producer’s choice to leave his own personal commentary out of the piece might have been strongly influenced by the culture of SALT. Mr. Rosenthal’s earlier posts seem to confirm this as he explained the question that is frequently up for discussion at SALT, "Who’s story is it?". I think it’s really brave to trust the storytelling power of your subject, and I wondered if the producer might have chosen the ‘no-narator’ style as a way to hold himself accountable – as a way to force himself to only tell the story that was there. The result was pleasant.
As a listener, I felt two weaknesses in the story. One is directly related to the absence of a narrator. Sometimes in a story, narration doesn’t just serve to augment or shape our understanding but provides us friendly company. I would have liked to understand what another human who, like me, was outside the story was thinking about it. I didn’t need help understanding, but I think hearing another listener’s thoughts – even if they are the producers – helps me clarify and sharpen my own. In this way, the ‘no-narator’ style limited the story for me.
The other weakness I perceived was the limited emotional exposure of John. This was a really heavy story, and I was surprised at the lack of emotion. I only recall a brief moment somewhere between minute 5 and 6 where I felt some conflict expressed through emotion. This made me wonder if the interviewing style of the producer may not have invited the subject to be as open with his emotions. Of course, the lack of emotion may have been a personality trait of the man himself.
In all, I really liked the work.
This made me wonder if the interviewing style of the producer may not have invited the subject to be as open with his emotions.
To realize how the interviewing process can change the audience’s perceptions is wonderfully astute, and I wish all audiences (and journalists) were that sharp.
But I have a different take on John’s apparent stoicism. I think it’s his way of coping with the Hell of war. I’m thinkin’ those of us removed from the situation, without nightmares and consciences to deal with, can more easily afford the emotional connection.
By the way, thanks to a suggestion in this forum, I just read Robert Coles’ Doing Documentary Work, and I’m working through James Agee’s Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. Highly recommended. I wish I had read them much earlier in my career. Maybe all those forgettable little stories I produced at various stations would have been more memorable if I hadn’t been so confused about whose stories they were. I’m almost sure of it.
Sara Paul who wrote for us about SALT on these pages at Transom, is featured in a film now showing on Sundance Channel about a woman’s attempt to beat her record of completing 77 crossword puzzles in 24 hours while riding the New York subway. It’s called "Marathon" and you can find more at the Sundance website.
Indeed, Joshua’s observation is astute. Interviewing style does help bring emotions to the forefront. Having worked with Rupa in class, I can attest to her impeccable skills as an interviewer. Indeed, it would seem that her bedside manner as a physician served her well in this case. Not everyone could handle this story with as much grace.
We spoke at length in class about John’s emotional state. In fact, we were very worried that Rupa’s questioning would elicit deep emotional responses, ones that might even be physically disruptive — he had already reported to her about blackouts. In preparation, Rupa spoke with folks at the veteran’s affairs office in Maine about approaches and issues.
Furthermore, we were worried that by opening up to her, he may become attached to her. This is a somewhat common issue between documentors and their subjects.
Rupa met with John several times for a couple of hours at a time. It wasn’t until late in the process that she fully broached the issue of his memory blackouts and "the two girls." It was important that he trust her before diving into the deep end.
At all times, Rupa was clear about her intentions and the scope of the project. While I wouldn’t call him a collaborator in the project in the way that, say, Dave Isay’s subjects are, John was fully informed and could decide not to participate at any time.
Eventually, John said to Rupa — I’ve not talked to anyone like this before. He said I’m worried about my family hearing this tape because they’ll hear things I haven’t even told them.
That, for me, illuminates Rupa’s prowess as an interviewer and it reveals his emotional state that Joshua picked up on.
Rob
PS. Rupa is travelling in India right now. I took a moment to answer this in order to keep the discussion moving while she is out of the country. I hope she’ll chime in when she returns. Other Salties???
Just want to say how much I admire you all … The program has become THE place to learn radio documentary in this country. It attracts and turns out the best and brightest (with the biggest hearts!) in the business. People are always asking me "should I go to this or that j. school" for radio- I tell them "forget it- head to Portland.." Rob- you’ve done such a spectacular job. Year after year, you guys inspire me. I’m so so so glad you’re doing what you’re doing. SALT is the future of radio in this country. Keep up the fantastic work!
dave
Hey All,
I’m back in fast internet connection world so wanted to respond to Josh’s comment. John’s emotional restriction was a challenge to work with in this story. As Phil commented, yes, it was his way of coping with the messed up things he saw. John’s a stoic, and where his emotional response registered was in his inability to sleep and in the way this story kept creeping up on him. It was not a cathartic, explosive bawling session, as maybe we are accustomed to expect from Hollywood’s scripting of demonstrative emotion. But rather a subtle expression suggestive of more to come.
That said, I also agree with Josh’s statement that my interview style might not have brought it out as well as another interviewer might have. Being a physician, although I was clear with John about what I was doing there as a documentarian, my concern for his mental wellness was always a part of the equation. Given that John was having signs of early Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and he wasn’t hooked into the VA after coming home (most vets from Iraq aren’t), I was concerned about how the telling of the stories would affect him, after I packed up my gear and left. So I found myself being more careful than I might have if I didn’t know anything about PTSD or if I hadn’t seen vets like that in my own clinical practice as a doctor. No doubt that combined with John’s predisposition to be reticent brought about the outcome of "emotional restriction" that we hear.
Insofar as interviewing skills, I need to keep practicing. Does anyone have a good book on how to improve interviewing techniques? Or does anyone have any good tips besides learning when to keep your mouth shut? It’s an art and I need tons of practice.
By the way I just got back from Bangalore. That is a wonderful city of sounds. Interviewing people who speak a different language is also incredibly challenging. Any tips there?
Rupa