Studio Archaeology

By Aaron On Apr 15, 2012 In Articles

The Zenfilm space is undergoing a transformation.

A bit of a shuffle is taking place . . . a recalibration of sorts. Our two editing suites will soon get some much needed relief as our third suite is erected in our studios. Dedicated digital compositing, color correction, ridiculously impressive processing muscle . . . the new room will add a lot of depth and speed to our post production pipeline. A network reconfiguration will result in the entire Zen office acting as a collaborative hub, working together even more seamlessly than before, more powerful than ever. If the machines one day rise against us, we sheepishly admit that it may have started here.

We are very proud of the Zenfilm space; the downplayed decor creates an artistically comforting atmosphere that seems to coax creativity out of you. Hi-tech gadgetry lives alongside antique relics, the walls adorned with the work of local artists and gifts from clients and acquaintances. You’re rarely out of reach of a musical instrument, and it’s never long before another friend from extended family over at SugarHill Studios or ZenHill Records comes rambling through. This is the space in which we live, work, play and imagine.

One pleasant side effect of all of this moving and rearranging is the consistency with which you stumble across forgotten treasures. This place is full of them . . . there are more stories to be told throughout the office than there is even time to inquire after. While you may be fairly familiar with the kinds of things that leave the Zenfilm office, we think it’s time to share some of the things that never leave the office.

Like this old magneto phone.

Ross recalls the story. In the early ’60′s when his father was working in the General Office of GTE (now Verizon) in San Angelo, Texas. He had a few customers in the service area that still had crank-style magneto telephones and needed everyone to upgrade to rotary dial phone, which was the current technology (Ross too has a habit of keeping us all up to date on current tech). Not everyone was buying it.

One old farmer in particular refused to go along with the newfangled contraption. To him, it was an unnecessary cost to replace something that was working just fine. He liked spinning the crank to ring a bell in the Central Office, which would be answered by a friendly operator that knew his name.  To GTE, it literally resulted in a specific rack of equipment left running to serve this one last phone. There was even an lone operator in front of a wooden patch board, waiting to manually connect the farmer to the feed store or his cousin Sally. Mr. Wells Sr. even offered to cover the costs of upgrading out of his own pocket, but the farmer would have none of it.

Time passed, as it often does, and eventually a position at GTE HQ in Manhattan opened up for Mr. Wells. The trip north was planned, and just as the Wells began to migrate, a parting gift was presented. Someone at GTE had finally done it . . . the farmer’s old magneto phone was bequeathed as a trophy from the long battle to upgrade West Texas.

Here that phone sits among many other objects.. with their own stories to tell… all which contribute to who we are, where we came from.  A wise man once sang (for union scale)  ”their house is a museum when people come to see ‘um”….

As construction continues….we will report as other artifacts are uncovered on the Zen dig.