A column I did in 1988 reflects the many unusual experiences of a long journalism career. Here’s a boiled down version of it:
Norm Fletcher broadcast hundreds of Northwestern athletic events during 30 years on local radio. But records show that he did play-by-play for just one game while fighting a fire in the pressbox.
The plywood pressbox perched atop the west side bleachers of the University of Southwest Oklahoma football stadium in Weatherford seemed a little shaky.
Film crews and coaches from Northwestern were assigned to the tin roof of the facility. They climbed a ladder on the side of a light pole to reach their positions. Sitting in metal folding chairs, they communicated with coaches on the sideline with walkie-talkies.
Inside the pressbox were two rows of school desks. The back row was elevated slightly on a wooden platform. There was no glass on the front of the box. The wooden flaps to close the structure were tied back with rope wrapped around hooks in the ceiling.
Lighting was provided by a single string of naked bulbs the length of the pressbox. The wire was looped over bent nails along the ceiling and plugged into an outlet on the back wall.
The great old Nashville Banner sports writer Freddie Russell wrote a book entitled Bury Me in an Old Pressbox. Freddie might have had this one in mind.
Fletcher had to stand on the back platform to see the field. He bent forward to keep from banging his head on the ceiling and used his hand as a visor to shield the glare from the light bulbs.
Just as the teams left the field at halftime, sparks started flying from the ceiling. There was a crackling noise, a lot of smoke and then flames along the row of lights above us.
Fletcher and the rest of us tried to douse the fire with cups of Coke that had just been distributed. The flames were not diminished by the soft drinks, which dribbled back down on us.
We rolled up game programs and slapped at the fire. Fletcher had a program in one hand and a microphone in the other. He thrashed at the blaze while keeping folks back home informed of the halftime excitement.
Determining that we were losing the battle to save the structure but comforted by the fact that my school desk was right by the only entrance or exit to the pressbox, I reached for the door.
The doorknob, one of those white ceramic-looking things like my grandmother had in her house, came off in my hand. The door wouldn’t budge.
Somebody suggested that we could just jump out of the open front of the box. But a quick assessment of that option revealed that it was about a 30-foot drop to the metal bleachers.
Motivated by that study, we kept swatting at the flames with programs, caps and sweaters. Fletcher gave listeners a play-by-play.
Fletcher’s microphone never lost power, but the public address system did. That created problems for the band, which had been standing motionless at mid-field awaiting a cue from the announcer to start the halftime show.
Bewildered band members stared up at the pressbox. The director, whose arms had been poised in a band leader position for several minutes, turned around to face the box trying to determine what was going on.
The public address announcer finally leaned out the front of the pressbox, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “And now the Southwest Oklahoma band will form an S as it plays…”
Somebody held his feet as he dangled from the box hollering. Marching musicians who were supposed to be facing straight ahead kept turning toward the pressbox in an effort to hear if they were in sync with the narration.
A couple of guys in white overalls and tool belts arrived with water buckets and towels. They apparently blotted the fire out. I’m not sure, because we all bailed out when they opened the door.
Everybody but Fletcher. He stayed to continue his on-the-scene coverage of the biggest event that year in Weatherford, Okla.
The next week, Fletcher showed up for Northwestern’s game with his usual collection of radio broadcast equipment, which had been expanded with the addition of a little red fire extinguisher.
REPRINTED FROM THE NATCHITOCHES TIMES