Columnist John Katsilometes: A memorable brush with a TV star

Monday, March 26, 2001 | 8:24 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@lasvegassun.com or 259-2327.

Ismael deserves an award. Maybe a Cable Ace award for Best Performance by a Cable Installation Technician.

He was acceptably punctual, arriving at 5:10 p.m. when my cable house-arrest sentence could have lasted another two hours. He apologized, asking if I'd been there all day and explaining he'd just come from a tricky re-connect at a luxury home up in Summerlin. The way he made it sound, bomb defusions have been less nerve-racking.

Ismael carried two new cable boxes and explained the features of each. He took notice of our TV and its various components (somehow we've rigged a toaster oven into the DVD player) stacked clumsily on the mantle above the fireplace.

"Nice setup," he lied.

Being a shorter fellow, Ismael could not reach behind the mass of electronics piled 7 feet high. With the authority of a surgeon calling out for a pair of forceps, he requested a folding chair.

"Steady me," he said. In the spirit of mutual trust, I complied.

An overextended Ismael untangled wires and meticulously reconstructed the Leaning Tower of Sony, occasionally grunting and blotting sweat from his face with a forearm.

"There's a second outlet," he said. It wasn't a question -- Ismael had clearly done his homework.

"Bedroom. Upstairs," I said, blinking and spitting out the words in my best Jack Webb impression. "This way."

"VCR?"

"Correct."

"No problem."

The first man I've entertained in the master bedroom, Ismael found his way to the dresser and the 1985-vintage Trinitron. "They don't make 'em like this anymore," Ismael said, unknowingly praising the purchasing savvy of my wife's late great-aunt Harriet. "These babies were really built."

Ismael hooked up Old Harriet and looked around the room.

"How long you been here?"

"It's our first week."

He then handed me a very long stretch of cable.

"What's this for?"

"It looks like stuff's going to be moved. Better be safe. With an extra-long cable you can set up anywhere."

"Thank you, kind sir."

Ismael smiled and hurriedly left for his next mission, calling out, "Later, bro," as he drove away.

A couple weeks later Ismael's handiwork glowed and blared with the Oscar telecast. It's the only awards show I'll watch in its entirety, purely for masochistic reasons because I hate the Oscars. I reached the proverbial point of no return years ago when Billy Crystal was anointed a comedic genius for his annual suck-up job of hosting the show, which he has apparently used to land plumb acting roles (great job of carrying De Niro in "Analyze This," by the way).

But from time to time I enjoy getting the blood boiling. That's why, when I'm particularly bored, I'll watch Jay Leno's monologue. It really pumps up the adrenaline and I'm convinced that shared human characteristic is why Leno keeps beating Letterman in late-night ratings.

Anyway ...

As Sunday's Oscar telecast (and its accompanying egos) swelled unchecked, I thought of Ismael, who made it all possible. He's no Tom Hanks, but he's a well-grounded professional devoted to quality TV. Worthy of an award, even.