The storytellers

The petite nurse sitting at the makeshift news desk goes silent as the man aiming the video camera counts off on his fingers 1, 2, 3, then points dead ahead. An on-air light’s red glow barely registers on a side wall, blown out by bright stage lights and a blue backdrop. It’s showtime in the Mayflower Retirement Community as 82-year-old Tom Savino calls “action” with a silent wave of a finger. With some tutorial help by Jason Morrow from the “Growing Bolder” TV show, all of these shows are directed, hosted, shot and edited by seniors who live at the Mayflower in Winter Park.
“They trained us, showed us how to use marks on the floor, the production process, but it’s all run by us,” Savino said.
There are no scripts here as the production crew puts out shows ranging from updates on bingo and bridge games to short documentaries. They’re shooting a promo right now for a health seminar coming up, but with their news and talk shows, it’s right off the cuff.
“At first we did a lot of prep,” show host Sally Hall said. “A lot of looking down, reading, trying not to make mistakes. We found out that people liked it more when we were just casual.”
There were some early stumbles when the TV production unit started in the summer 2015, but not many, Hall said. Friday morning, she tries to sneakily snake a lapel microphone off her shirt, but it gets caught. Her attempt at a smooth move undone, she laughs it off. They’re not pros, but after 18 months in the business, they’ve found their stage presence.
Jack Williamson, who just turned 90, gives off a Sir Richard Attenborough vibe in off white slacks and a white polo shirt. He’s an accountant originally from Iowa, but he’s no retiree. He did 70 tax returns this year. With a white pompadour and an easy grin, he’s relaxed and on point once the camera turns on and his mic goes live.
Savino, who traveled the world while he worked for AT&T, directs the action, the hosts keep their eyes on the camera in between joking around, and the show flows along.
“We’ve gotten to the point where we know what works,” Williamson said.
When they decided to do a series of interviews of residents as a sort of story catalog of their lifetimes, they tried studio Q&As at first, but the words weren’t coming. They moved into residents’ home apartments, and it clicked.
“We try to make programs where residents say, ‘Oh I know that person; that’s interesting to me,’” Williamson said.
That doesn’t mean they don’t have to exercise some editorial restraint. Keeping interviews the right length can be tricky when some seniors get into it.
“Some of them have gotten a bit carried away,” he said, smiling.
When Savino turns off the red light on the camera, that’s when 80-year-old Henry Morrell starts cutting.  
He takes a clip of pastel-adorned morning show hosts Elizabeth Brothers and Rae Delfosse and zooms in a bit, putting a lakeside backdrop behind them, digitally. He tweaks volume levels on the banter between the two ladies with a click and a slide of a few humps in the sound wave. He’s gotten so good with editing that he now teaches Adobe Premiere to would-be filmmakers. He shows off his how-to video, pointing out the mouse arrow as it moves on its own, laughing a little as he watches his handiwork.
Morrell was an engineer for most of his adult life before switching over to photography. Savino said Morrell was a lifesaver when he arrived, speeding up the editing process in this 10-foot-by-12-foot studio.
“It’s cozy, but it works,” Morrell said.
A lot of this is just preserving stories for the future, Williamson said. They know residents won’t always be here, so they want them to tell their stories while they still can. Savino, an affable, matter-of-fact Brooklyn native, recalls a man he wanted to interview but hadn’t gotten the chance. When Savino asked a friend about the man he wanted to talk to, the response was a bit puzzling.
“It’s too late,” Savino’s friend told him.
“What do you mean it’s too late?” Savino said. “He’s still here.”
“You don’t understand,” his friend said. “It’s too late. He’s still here, but he’s gone.”
Trying to preserve as many war stories as they could, they partnered with University of Central Florida students to film veterans of wars that happened most of a century ago. Now they have an anthology of personal military stories from the Mayflower’s resident veterans, dating back to the lead-up to World War II.
Rehearsal for another program wraps, and it’s almost lunchtime. The “on air” light turns off, but Morrell’s still working away as the door closes behind him. There’s always more to do, he said, a hint of pride to his voice.
“People here want to tell their stories,” Savino said. “That’s what we do.”  
Her workday over, Hall, still wearing her TV host clothes, steps outside the door and sees a friend pushing a white cane along the floor. She gently takes her arm and guides her down the hall.  

Contact Isaac Babcock at [email protected].