A masterful display in how not to emcee

I had the opportunity dozens and dozens of times during my career to play the role of master of ceremonies.

It was always an enjoyable — though stressful — assignment.

I spent 37 years as Orange Coast College’s community relations director and was emcee for galas, banquets, luncheons, breakfasts, awards ceremonies, inductions, retirements — you name it.

By default, I became the college’s go-to emcee.

I discovered how important it is for an emcee to be visible but never intrusive. The emcee walks a fine line. He or she must by degrees be witty, sincere, serious, sarcastic, friendly, emotional, dispassionate, flippant, organized and, most of all, in charge.

The emcee keeps things flowing. When the program lags, it’s up to the emcee to inject energy.

Most importantly, an emcee needs to work from a script and yet project a feeling of spontaneity. Never “wing it!” Adlibs are better scripted. Nothing is worse than an adlib that tanks.

And don’t impose yourself on the program. It’s not about you.

Anticipate anything that could possibly go wrong because over time it will. I’ve had sound systems quit on me; meticulously crafted scripts disappear from the podium; a glass of orange juice plop into my lap moments before the opening greeting; and a carefully organized tray of slides fall to the floor and scatter.

And, this is vital: when announcing names, get them right. Blowing a name — mispronouncing it or, worse, announcing the wrong one — can be catastrophic. It can literally be a deal-breaker as far as your career is concerned.

So, you can imagine the horror I felt the other night as I watched — in real time — what happened to emcee Steve Harvey.

Harvey, you must know — unless you spent the past two weeks prowling the bowels of the museums of Tashkent — is the poor guy who announced the wrong winner at the Miss Universe pageant.

Oh my.

I actually watched the telecast Dec. 20 (with my wife!) live on FOX. Well, it was live, sort of: a three-hour time delay is as close as we West Coasters get to “live” network TV.

Harvey announced Miss Colombia, Ariadna Gutierrez Arevalo, as the winner of the pageant. By inference, Miss Philippines, Pia Alonzo Wurtzback, who stood clutching Miss Colombia at center-stage, was runner-up.

Harvey left the stage of Las Vegas’ Planet Hollywood (I can’t imagine the chaos he stepped into!), and Miss Colombia received her sash and crown. Miss Philippines was hustled to the wings.

But, wait …

The music played on and on, and no one spoke a word for many anguished moments. Where was the specter of Bert Parks when we needed him most?

Miss Colombia, brandishing her bouquet, looked both ravishing and abandoned. Time took on cosmic dimensions. Seconds were measured in light years.

Although I couldn’t actually fathom it happening, I had a premonition of what was about to occur. It can’t be! How absolutely … awful! The train is headed for the blown trestle, in slow motion.

“Omigosh,” I laughed hysterically to Hedy seated next to me on the couch. “He’s just announced the wrong winner! How in the heck are they going to fix this?”

It was simply too delicious.

After about an ice age, Harvey returned to the stage. Uh-oh. Cut the music! I felt an overwhelming urge to close my eyes, but couldn’t. I was hooked up to an adrenaline IV drip.

“There’s been a mistake,” he said.

A snagged high heel? Much worse.

A friend of mine with pageant experience described the moment as “surreal.”

Harvey apologized.

To his immense credit he courageously took the blame for the monumental howler. He’d misread the card. Mistakes happen.

Mostly, I felt bad for Miss Colombia and Miss Philippines. One had the tiara unceremoniously ripped from her magnificent brow; the other was relegated to the sidelines, never to be given her due.

In the grand scheme of things it was lightweight silliness.

But, it’s now firmly ensconced in what I’d rank as the Top 10 worst gaffs … ever.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.