1. One night I got an emergency call from a studio in Hollywood. On an important overdub session the mic was dead, and things were at a standstill. I jumped in my car and headed down there. Inside the studio a lot of people were milling around in frustration. A condenser mic was set up for a sax player, and in the control room a beautiful Neve console was set up for overdubs, with a few pieces of rental gear.
The stereo and multitrack busses were fine, apparently the problem was specific to the one mic input. I wondered if it was just a bad mic cable, though the engineer told me he'd checked that already. As I walked from the control room to the studio, I followed the signal path "backwards" from the console. The output of a compressor led to a line input on the console. The input of the compressor was connected to the output of a de-esser, and the input of the de-esser was connected to the output of an equalizer. A mic cable went from the equalizer input under the door of the control room and out to the studio. In the studio, the mic cable was plugged into a U87 condenser mic.
Hopefully, you now realize what the "engineer" had missed. There was no mic preamp!
2. Speaking of mic cables, this was a true horror story. The place was United/Western, the session was a mammoth Frank Sinatra album project, all 100% live. In Studio 1 were about 60 musicians and a large chorus, in the vocal booth was Mr. Sinatra. The 40 input Harrison wasn't big enough, so we set up a rented Auditronics for the extra mics. Billy May was conducting from the podium, the studio was a sea of music stands, headphones, headphone cables, mics, mic cables, and mic extension cables, Neumann power supplies, etc...
The pre-session check out went fine but in the middle of the second track -- it might have been "It Had To Be You" -- the most God-awful crackle thundered through the speakers and everyone's headphones, complete with echo. It decayed to silence, followed by someone (perhaps Sinatra himself) grumbling "what the **** was that!" And then everything was fine, until 10 minutes later, when it happened again, ruining an excellent take.
The terrible thing was, there were so many mics, power supplies, cables, and preamps hooked up and the problem was so intermittent, finding it quickly was just impossible. And so the Star, orchestra, chorus, and engineer just tolerated it for the whole 3 hour call, grimacing and giving us staffers dirty looks the 5 or 6 other times that loud, horrible noise happened. After the session finally finished we checked everything in sight while breaking down. It was a yellow mic cable on one of the violins. God, that was horrible.
3. We staff techs always did our best, but often were blamed when things went wrong. One scenario was quite common with prima donna producers and engineers, that I most hated. It usually begain with one of us getting dragged into a session and hearing the words "the multitrack doesn't sound quite right". It nearly always meant that the vocalist was blowing his overdubs, or a musician was late, or the band couldn't agree on something, or the mix wasn't "happening", and everyone knew this. Still, we had to play along, they'd take an extended break, we'd whip out a greenie, and re-check the whole 24-track alignment even though it was fine. Sometimes we'd pretend to find and fix a problem, if they were watching. Often at the engineer would check the machine after they returned, feigning great seriousness in the tension filled room. Usually it ended with "hey man, it sounds perfect now! Let's get back to work." Can you say 'free studio time'?
4. Sometimes, no matter how late it got, the studio simply would not let you go home. The most common threat was non-payment, but more serious threats were sometimes made. At the hilltop compound of a wealthy producer, his armed security guards made it clear I was not to go home until every repair on the list was fixed, and I had no say in the matter. At an enormous technical facility in the desert, run by a well known "church" you not only needed permission to enter, you also needed authorization to leave -- a little like getting a Soviet exit visa. It was 10 PM, I'd had no idea what I was getting into but had done the job, and just wanted out. They had more problem lists, and offered me a bunk in the dorm and free meals, if I would just stay a night or two. I argued with a guard behind a latched gate, watching traffic zoom past on the highway. Finally they relented and allowed me to go. They paid me very well but I would never go back, not for anything.
5. Not a horror story, but I thought of this yesterday and it seems good to end with. I used to do tech work for Indigo Ranch, way up in the hills above Malibu. The Moody Blues recorded there, along with many other famous acts. Wonderful people. One day they had me repairing an LA-2A in Studio B, while Dylan was recording in A. As one of the owners was showing Dylan around, they stepped into Studio B and I was warmly introduced. I stammered a few words and knowing Dylan's need for privacy, gave him a lot of space. But somehow to Bob Dylan, the sight of me servicing an LA-2A was at that moment the most interesting thing in the world, and he just stood there and watched me, for the longest time... It was hard for me to focus to say the least, but looking back, this is a wonderful memory.