Читать книгу That Wasn’t the Plan - Reg Sherren - Страница 8

For two years, I trained at Canadore College, which was nestled on top of a hill amid silver birch trees just outside North Bay. It was a fabulous place to learn. I worked as a DJ at the college’s radio station, participated in the nightly newscast and did some semi-professional acting on the side (that dream was still alive). During school breaks I managed to get gigs as an announcer/operator back home at CBNLT, broadcasting on television across Western Labrador.

But my first work placement had more to do with selling than broadcasting. It was down in Toronto, where I apprenticed at a national advertising agency. It was all demographics and data spit out by a cool, brand-new tool in radio advertising, something called a “computer program.” It was fascinating that a machine into which you typed simple facts and figures could then analyze the ratings in the ten largest radio markets in the country. In mere moments, it would do its magic and spit out the most cost-effective way to reach between one and two million eighteen-year-olds across Canada. It was the very beginning of a new form of technology that would change the world forever. But to me, it was about selling advertising, not making radio. I was fascinated by it and perhaps a little afraid of it, but I did know one thing: it wasn’t for me.

When I returned to North Bay some months later, I was close to broke. College was ending and my future was looking rather hopeless. Then I heard they were looking for a television news anchor in Thunder Bay, Ontario. I hadn’t done any television in months, and at twenty-two, I was pretty sure this job possibility was a long shot at best.

But I went into the studio, wrote up a newscast, set up a camera in front of the old news desk and played one of the most important acting roles of my young life, that of a television news anchor. I fired the tape off. Three days later I got a call telling me I had landed the role—I mean the position—of main television news anchor at CKPR-TV. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was still almost broke and a long way from Thunder Bay. I was even farther from Labrador, and apparently heading west.

That same morning a good college buddy of mine, who for various reasons was unable to finish the course, dropped by to see if I’d gotten the job. I told him I was now a television news anchor—if I could figure out how to get to Thunder Bay. “Do you have any money?” he asked. “I have a hundred and fifty bucks to my name,” I replied. “Give it to me,” said Bob, and I did. Later that evening he returned with almost $400. How he had accomplished this feat I was afraid to ask. “Go, man, and do your thing. You’re going to make it,” he said. Bob had a lot more faith in me than I did. He went on to a career in computers and raised a fine family. I have never forgotten his support and kindness. It was that good karma again.