TURKISH DE-LIGHT 1999

Well what else could you call an article about a working trip to Turkey? My mobile chirped just as I came out
of the Bank. It was Tuesday morning. Hello Mike, its Malcolm Nelson here, (formerly CBST now T&D Centre,
Wood Norton) You know that TRT (Turkish Television) had approached us to do some training in June /July?

Yes I did, I was already getting my brain into gear for a trip to Turkey with Tim Wallbank from Wood Norton
to run a two week lighting training course in Istanbul, of all places.

Well, they have asked us if we can provide an LD to advise them in lighting their general Election programme
in Ankara in a couple of weeks time.

Ankara was a place in the atlas, or on the radio dial when I was a kid, either way I didnt anticipate what was
coming next.

As you know, Graham (Freelance) Rimmington had said that he would go and help them out, but he has found
out that he and his wife have a holiday that clashes. Would you be prepared to go, Mike?

A heavy truck rumbled by giving me a few seconds to gather my thoughts. Whats the time scale, Malcolm? I
offered. Well, they would like you to be there on Sunday (this Sunday?) for a week leading up to their General
Election programme on April 18
th
.

Gulp, the phrase can I get back to you on that came to mind. Something niggled me, I couldnt quite put my
finger on it.

Twenty minutes later, I had my diary open and my poor old porous brain had a reminder. I too, had a short
break organised with my wife to Barcelona, starting on the Saturday of the week following. I recalled Wood Norton and
said, yes, I would be happy to do the job, but I would have to be back in this country by late Thursday, to give myself 24
hour turnaround before our city break to Espana. I really did think that Turkish TV would not want to know about a five
day visit, after all, what show have you ever worked on where you have walked away four days before the show day?

Surprise, surprise; within 24 hours I got a call from Wood Norton; my flights were booked. Oh really, does
that mean.. I realised that as I spoke, yes it did mean that I was indeed booked for a job in a far flung country. Now
I know that the John Watts and Mark Kenyons of this world get all these foreign trips that they can chat about as though
they were visiting their local supermarket, but it did focus my mind somewhat to think that in four days time I would be
on my way to that name out of an atlas.

The BBC training took over. I made a list of things that were essential, necessary and desirable, in that order,
for this particular trip. It seemed appropriate that I should see, and ideally take with me a tape of the Beebs General
Election Studio coverage, with me. I thus carried out a two pronged attack. Wood Norton promised to get hold of a tape
which would be with me in time. Hmmmm. I didnt doubt their sincerity, but in good old belt and braces style, checked
out my very own branch of the Beeb in Cardiff. Yes, the news librarian said sweetly, you can come in and see the
programme on Beta, but we cant let you take the tape out of the building. Well, I am a freelance after all, need to
know (and see) and all that. So I did, and very exciting it was too watching pictures of a long dead election programme,
I can tell you.

The following day, as I was working my way down the list of essentials, I heard a motor bike roar up the drive.
Now that was a bit of a surprise, cos I dont know anybody who has a motorbike. The milk comes on a float, the paper
with a boy and a dog.. I digress. It was a motor cycle courier of the kind who rush about Londons crowded roads
delivering this and that to Offices, Embassies and Airports. He lifted his visor and smiled slightly wearily at me. Was
I.. yes I washere is a package for you. Feeling a video cassette through the bubble wrapped envelope, I knew
that the Beeb had come up trumps (at what cost?). Did he want a coffee? Well, yes, but most of all, could he use the
bathroom? I know that this was his first visit to the Principality and perhaps he wasnt sure about the natives, but I
wasnt going to turn him away after a couple of hours crouched over his throbbing (purring?) BMW. Over coffee and
biscuits he told me of his strange approach to my home, via a route that could only have been devised by AutoRoute.


Within the half hour, he had left by a somewhat more logical route to his
home city, and I could settle down to watch the video out of the plain brown
envelope. It was remarkably similar to the programme I had seen in a darkened
room the previous day, and no less captivating. Now this is my opportunity to
justify the enormous amount of money I had recently spent on a digital camera. I
had regaled admirers with the virtues (of the camera) of being able to instantly
process the pictures on my P.C. (when it wasnt being an expensive paperweight)
and print them out at home, thus bypassing the trek into town, twice, to take, and to
collect.

It actually was useful, and I say this most sincerely folks to print out
shots of that long dead election onto hard copy. It was useful when I spoke to Geoff
Beech, the L.D. who had lit the show, to the set designer at TRT, and to me, as I
saw that maybe there was a chance that I could re-create the look of the show, maybe, 1000 miles away from TC1.
Needless to say, I spoke to Geoff, and his recollections added to my snaps in forming a lighting plan, in my brain, at
least.

During the remaining few days prior to my trip, I developed a taste for World news in my paper, Turkey in
particular. It seems that the Foreign Office had put parts of Turkey on a list that meant: proceed with caution. It wasnt
the bit of Turkey that I was going to visit, so I mentally put it on the back burner. Less settling was the news that a
Turkish Airlines plane with all its crew had perished in southern Turkey just a few days prior to my trip on its way to
Kosovo to bring back refugees.

Ankara also had an excellent English Web site which actually put me back in the right frame of mind, with talk
of restaurants and unmissable night life.

And then it was Saturday, and I was off to Heathrow, to spend a night, well, until 0500 anyway, in a soulless
expensive room just a few hundred metres from the runway. I know Heathrow is busy, everybody knows that, but it was
still a surprise to look out of the window at 0515 and see an airborne line of ACLs queuing up for touchdown. Moving
lights descending as gracefully as any well co-ordinated rock concert rig could.

Turkish Airlines whisked me on their metallic magic carpet to Istanbul where there was a short wait for a
connecting flight to Turkeys capital city, Ankara. Now, it just so happens that only last year, my wife and I visited
Istanbul for a city break weekend. Been there, got the T-shirt, etc., etc. Istanbul is a pretty amazing city, believe me, well
worth a visit with a few of your air miles, or a few million of your profile points.

As the second smaller magic carpet ascended over the old city of Constantinople heading further east than I
had ever been before, a nagging doubt visited me, not for the first time. What was I letting myself in for? If I made a
hash of this job, not only would my own reputation go down the pan, but, in TRTs eyes, that of the BBC who had
provided them with this expert. Our training trip to Istanbul might be compromised, and my work with Wood Norton
as well. What indeed was I letting myself in for?

The other slightly more logical side of my brain told me that I had been lighting all manner of shows for about
twenty years and ought to be able to cope. That wasnt quite enough to reassure me.

The plane descended through snow capped mountains onto the barren, Russian Steppes type landscape. The
guide books say that it had a population of about 30,000 in the 1930s; now it is more like 4 million. The city is all at a
height of about 1000 metres above sea level (were talking the top of Snowdon) and as we approached the runway, it
seemed that there were no walls and precious few trees or boundaries of any kind.

I will admit to always having fancied coming out of the customs channel and seeing my name up on one of
those boards held by a smiling young lady. My luck was in! Mike Baker, in big letters jostled for my attention amongst
the many meet and greeters.

Ebru was one of the two interpreters provided by TRT during my working hours, and she showed me to the
chauffeur driven car that awaited me outside the terminal. Ankara was seen through a windscreen as the rain bounced off
everything in sight. As we approached the city through a straggling series of somewhat ramshackle establishments, I was
gently reminded that Turkey was an emerging nation and so it seemed. Nowhere looks good in the rain, how many

My video arrives........
times have you been somewhere on holiday in the sunshine, only to see the same place in bad weather, and realise that
we in the UK have actually got some rather nice countryside, if not the weather, of our own.

From the centre of the city we started climbing to its southern heights, and heights they were. Past all the
embassies, government buildings and international hotels we climbed and climbed and climbed for some 8 kilometres.
The rainwater cascaded in torrents down the grooves worn by countless heavy trucks, like two parallel streams, testing
conditions for the driver, who had clearly got some
ambitions to Grand Prix racing.

Ebru pointed out this floodlit massive building on
the approaching horizon. There is TRT, she said. The
building was built on the top of the hills at the
southernmost extremity of the city, and it was huge! I have
been in some big buildings but this one took the biscuit.
Twelve stories high, and accommodating some 5000
employees, a veritable Broadcasting Megalith. Within its
perimeter, it has many shops, supermarkets, dry cleaners -
and all just for the use of the staff.

I was shown to my quarters. TRT has a hostel
wing which provides accommodation for the many staff
who have to commute between Ankara and Istanbul on a
regular basis. Down long, wide dimly lit corridors I
followed Ebru; past a hotel type reception area and on to my room, well, actually a suite of rooms. This was where, I
was told, the General Director of TRT, lived for four years before securing his own accommodation. Huge bedroom
with balcony, en-suite bathroom and kitchen with well stocked (wine, whisky, soft drinks) fridge. Hey, this was nearly as
good as home!

After a shower and a quick apertif, I rejoined Ebru who
offered to show me the venue for their Election Programme
before we went out for a meal. Because TRT had not completed
its main production studios on this new site, they had chosen to
stage it in their enormous (everything about TRT was big, or vast,
or impressive) library. The roof was of a multiple sawtooth cross
section, the vertical bits were glazed windows, 300 of them,
allowing light onto the slopey bits which provided a nice, even,
bright North light for the readers below. Great for a library, less
good for a TV show spanning night and day.

There was a single run of scaffold tube around the
perimeter of the library, which had a gallery all around its shoe
box shape. The room was about 40 metres long by about 15
metres wide and perhaps ten metres high. A number of lamps, all
HMI had been rigged. A mixture of 2.5s, 1.2s and 575s.
Although rigged, it was clear that they had not been focused. The
set was largely in place, and indeed had similar features to that gripping video that sat languishing in my luggage. I slept
on it, helped by a never ending supply of Yeni Raki (Pastis) and excellent food in a nearby restaurant, accompanied by
Ebru. Live music at the table added to the ambience of a splendid evening.

Monday dawned. Breakfast was served at my table; other lesser (!) guests had to help themselves. At times like
this you realise that the BBC still has an excellent reputation abroad, and as its ambassador, I was treated like a king.

0900 came and having trekked around the vast building, I eventually found the library and entered the arena
once again. It was a cloudy day but my trusty old Seconic light meter indicated 800 lux of ambient coming down from
that roof full of windows.

Emir, my other translator, who spoke English with a Cambridge/American accent, having spent time in both
places, knew what I was thinking as he shared my gaze skyward. This light will spoil the image on the Pro cube wall
and on the two BP units, will it not? Absolutely, I agreed, wondering how easy it was going to be to get things done,

TRT's impressive main building

The Library on arrival
quickly. It was time to prioritise my problems. Blackout was clearly number one. The Back Projection units were not of
the latest design and would struggle to compete with normal studio lighting. Now normal lighting, to me and probably
you, is about 800 lux. The programme was to start at 2200 hours and go through the night until midday. Now, assuming
blackout, was it to be an HMI or a tungsten rig. If it had been a clean sheet of paper, tungsten plus dimmers would have
been an easy decision. It reminded me of the old anecdote of the traveller who arrived at the crossroads in the middle of
nowhere, only to find that there was no signpost. There was, however an old tramp sat by the side of the road. When
asked which was the best way to the travellers destination, he was told, Begorrah, if I was going there, I wouldnt have
started from here in the first place!

But I looked at the amount of rigging that had already gone up and didnt have a heart to ask them to take it all
out (I do hope some of the Chargehand electricians that I have worked with over the years are reading this) But even
before I made that decision, I needed to know what lighting kit was actually available. There had been much talk of a
lighting depot, now was the time to investigate. I visualised a lighting hire shop just down the road, but was not prepared
for the reality. TRT had their own depot full of a variety of fairly familiar heads, from Mizars to 4K HMIs. Their very
own, all bought and paid for! Par cans, 5Ks. 2Ks, pups et al. Now how many Broadcasters do you know who have all
that? Clearly accountants havent moved in to Turkey yet. They even had a storekeeper who knew about his stock! And,
lo, there were dimmers-lots of them. I was beginning to relax.

I received an invitation to join Tarik Baykur for lunch. Tarik is my contact at TRT, head of training, a former
film cameraman. It was clear that he was an ideas man, committed to new technology, definitely not a Luddite, and that
he would stand no nonsense. We dined in the executive dining room on the 12
th
floor after a hurried meeting with the
D.G., no less. This is the man from the BBC, etc. etc. Well, I did meet John Birt once, for what its worth.

Because of my decision to keep
the HMI rig, I pondered as to whether I
half or fully corrected to tungsten. Did
TRT have the correction gels? The
answer was to bundle me into a car
along with the rest of the sparks and
exercise one of the staff cars by taking it
to the old Broadcasting centre, wherein
resided their main (soon to be replaced)
news studios. Down in the depths of the
building, some three floors below
ground level, I was shown into a dingy
room which was full to the gunnels
(whatever they are) with correction
filters-ND, CTO, CTB, and a variety of colours. Roll after roll were standing in the original wrapping, barely touched
and suffering only from a surplus of dust and spiders. Rosco did well out of this contract! What I couldnt understand is
why they hadnt actually used any of said, expensive products. I never did find out why, but I was mighty relieved that
they were there. I made up a shopping list, and it was in the car faster than you could say Turkey.

Although I initially favoured half correction, I did change my mind to full correction to tungsten, perhaps
because I really wasnt sure how the senior engineer would cope with mixed colour temperature. Now, I had a meeting
with the senior (racks) engineer, and a very respectable and smartly dressed gentleman he was. (It seemed to me that
anyone above the rank of tea boy or cleaner wore suits and ties). Via Emir, we established that he wanted to know what
lighting level I was going to light to. I had no hesitation in answering 800 lux. His raised eyebrows and Emirs carefully
worded reply told me that that was not an expected response. Emir eventually translated the chief engineers response
that the manufacturers specification of 2000 lux at F 5.6 or F8, and why wasnt I lighting to that (their preferred) level.
Dear Readers, you must work out for yourself what your reply would have been and how you would have communicated
it to the senior engineer of TRT. Fortunately, I had the experience of the whole broadcasting world on my side, 2000 lux
belonged to the early days of experimental image orthicon colour cameras at Lime Grove, as far as I was concerned.
There was no way..

Thank you very much, now can I get on with my task? I was being bombarded with questions and continually
being asked what equipment I would need. I finally got everybody to accept that I needed to get away from the action
and plan what I was going to do next. Tarik Baykur provided me with some AutoCAD type floor plans to a scale of
1/100. I settled down in my room with my lighting stencil and colour swatch.


Will I ever get a blackout?