fans—five hundred of them—are patiently awaiting the promised schmooze session. Give them a quick sweep and then head down. I’ll spot you when we’re at thirty.”
Tieg started toward the double doors, adjusting his earphone before he answered. “I’ll come down the center aisle,” he said as they met at the door. She began to adjust his tie. “Pick me up with the forward camera just before I make my way up to the stage.”
“Done.” She pressed the tie against his chest, gave him a wink, and spoke into her microphone. “He’s coming through. Cue them up.”
Amy slipped quietly through the door; fifteen seconds later, a deep, resonant voice broke through the dull hum of voices just beyond the doors.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Tieg Tonight .” A smattering of applause accompanied the sudden hush of the room. “We’ll be on the air in just a few minutes, so sit back and relax, and please give a warm welcome to the host of the show … Mr. Jonas Tieg.” Tieg waited for the cue from Amy; a moment later, the doors opened in front of him, the applause considerably louder as he strode into the spotlight. The classic gym-cum-meeting hall, with ever-present stage and wooden floor agleam under untold layers of wax and varnish, served as the setting for this evening’s off-the-beaten-path taping of the show. The studio equipment had been slotted into an area just below the far basketball hoop, cameras and booms at the ready for the on-air cue. Tieg raised his right hand in a fist of appreciation and then set off into the crowd. As he moved through the audience, he seemed a man with boundless energy; a man with vision, they would say.
“What a pleasure to come out here and listen to what you people have to say,” boomed Tieg, shaking one man’s hand and turning to another. He continued to wink and nod his way through the now-standing audience; two minutes into the ritual, he heard Amy’s voice in his ear. “We’re at thirty.”
Tieg pulled himself away from one adoring young lady and started for the stairs at the far end of the stage. The set looked small, the bookshelves and desk pulled far down on the stage, but Tieg knew the cameramen would work their magic. He stopped just short of the steps and waited for the intro. “Smile, Jonas,” came the voice in his ear as the familiar music swelled up.
He did as he was told, speaking under his breath, the tiny microphone on his tie keeping him in touch with his producer. “The plane’s scheduled out of Rochester at eleven forty-five?”
“It’ll wait if we run late.”
“Not tonight, Amy. In and out. That’s the plan.”
“But what about your adoring fans?” He heard her laugh. “They’ll want some time with you after the show, Jonas.”
“In and out.” He waved at a young man in the front row, smiled as he talked. “Not tonight.”
The voice boomed over the music, the audience now at full pitch as Tieg took to the stage.
“Tonight, from the grand state of Vermont, the town of Elkington welcomes Jonas Tieg and … Tieg Tonight .” The applause sign flashed mercilessly, though without reason, the audience already in full lather. Tieg walked slowly toward the desk, applauding the audience and pointing to one or two unknown faces in the crowd. He got to his chair and sat just as the music reached crescendo. He then adjusted the microphone on the desk, moved a small stack of papers to the side, and looked up, a broad smile on his face. It was time to inspire, he told himself. Time to bring the vision to life.
“My, oh my, aren’t we a spirited bunch tonight.” The audience erupted one last time; Tieg waited for them to settle down—nodding, waving, stacking the pages—until, staring into the number-one camera, he continued. “Let me extend an Elkington welcome to everybody watching out there. As you can hear, we’re a bit on the rowdy side tonight.” Another wave of applause. “Folks, we’ve been in ten
Tieg started toward the double doors, adjusting his earphone before he answered. “I’ll come down the center aisle,” he said as they met at the door. She began to adjust his tie. “Pick me up with the forward camera just before I make my way up to the stage.”
“Done.” She pressed the tie against his chest, gave him a wink, and spoke into her microphone. “He’s coming through. Cue them up.”
Amy slipped quietly through the door; fifteen seconds later, a deep, resonant voice broke through the dull hum of voices just beyond the doors.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Tieg Tonight .” A smattering of applause accompanied the sudden hush of the room. “We’ll be on the air in just a few minutes, so sit back and relax, and please give a warm welcome to the host of the show … Mr. Jonas Tieg.” Tieg waited for the cue from Amy; a moment later, the doors opened in front of him, the applause considerably louder as he strode into the spotlight. The classic gym-cum-meeting hall, with ever-present stage and wooden floor agleam under untold layers of wax and varnish, served as the setting for this evening’s off-the-beaten-path taping of the show. The studio equipment had been slotted into an area just below the far basketball hoop, cameras and booms at the ready for the on-air cue. Tieg raised his right hand in a fist of appreciation and then set off into the crowd. As he moved through the audience, he seemed a man with boundless energy; a man with vision, they would say.
“What a pleasure to come out here and listen to what you people have to say,” boomed Tieg, shaking one man’s hand and turning to another. He continued to wink and nod his way through the now-standing audience; two minutes into the ritual, he heard Amy’s voice in his ear. “We’re at thirty.”
Tieg pulled himself away from one adoring young lady and started for the stairs at the far end of the stage. The set looked small, the bookshelves and desk pulled far down on the stage, but Tieg knew the cameramen would work their magic. He stopped just short of the steps and waited for the intro. “Smile, Jonas,” came the voice in his ear as the familiar music swelled up.
He did as he was told, speaking under his breath, the tiny microphone on his tie keeping him in touch with his producer. “The plane’s scheduled out of Rochester at eleven forty-five?”
“It’ll wait if we run late.”
“Not tonight, Amy. In and out. That’s the plan.”
“But what about your adoring fans?” He heard her laugh. “They’ll want some time with you after the show, Jonas.”
“In and out.” He waved at a young man in the front row, smiled as he talked. “Not tonight.”
The voice boomed over the music, the audience now at full pitch as Tieg took to the stage.
“Tonight, from the grand state of Vermont, the town of Elkington welcomes Jonas Tieg and … Tieg Tonight .” The applause sign flashed mercilessly, though without reason, the audience already in full lather. Tieg walked slowly toward the desk, applauding the audience and pointing to one or two unknown faces in the crowd. He got to his chair and sat just as the music reached crescendo. He then adjusted the microphone on the desk, moved a small stack of papers to the side, and looked up, a broad smile on his face. It was time to inspire, he told himself. Time to bring the vision to life.
“My, oh my, aren’t we a spirited bunch tonight.” The audience erupted one last time; Tieg waited for them to settle down—nodding, waving, stacking the pages—until, staring into the number-one camera, he continued. “Let me extend an Elkington welcome to everybody watching out there. As you can hear, we’re a bit on the rowdy side tonight.” Another wave of applause. “Folks, we’ve been in ten
Similar Books
