The Arrogance of the Media

Except for not having time to watch it anymore, I generally have nothing against television. Sure, I can't tell you what night "ER" comes on, but I appreciate the lure of the set--after all, I'm a child who grew up watching anything that was on, from "The Facts of Life" to the local news. Even though I don't watch it, lately I've had a few opportunities to see it being made, and one thing is clear: from the courtroom to the moon, if anything happens, television crews won't be far behind.

During the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, I was employed by the DNC as part of the student security team. The main security for the event consisted of examining the credentials the guests were required to wear around their necks at all times. Before entering the door to the floor, we had to stop everyone and examine their credentials by sight and by touch. Of course, this system held up the traffic flow, but most guests were generally sympathetic and understanding of the reasons for the precautions.

However, the members of the media--at least the ones who came through my door--were not. A favorite tactic of the crews was to have the enormous cameraman block me with his equipment, or try to distract me in some way, while the others ran past. They grew more creative as the week ran on, while the crowds swelled. At around 9 p.m. on Thursday night, the Chicago Fire Marshal decided that there were too many people on the floor. However, this was an arena, there were no real doors, only portals, so the marshal decided to have the students physically block the path by making human barricades.

Just as the president was ready to appear and make his speech, a CNN reporter who had made the fatal mistake of using the rest room at the wrong time tried to get back through to her seat. Since her crew was safely inside the arena, she had to fend for herself. She backed up 20 feet and got a running start. Microphone pointing the way, she ran straight into me, figuring once I was knocked out, entrance would be easy. As I restrained her and yelled for my supervisor, she tried to be rational. "Don't you know who I am?" she pleaded. "This is what I've been here all week for," she whined. Finally, as a Chicago firefighter broke through the crowd to see what the girlfight was all about, she let out one last bellow: "THIS EVENT CANNOT HAPPEN WITHOUT ME!"

Five minutes later, as the firefighter held her back while she screamed, the president proved her wrong.

I was reminded of this whole debacle when I was at the ice-skating gala "An Evening with Champions" this past weekend. Like the convention, it was impeccably planned, full of good acts and run by patient organizers. Still, it had its share of media people who thought their own show was far more important. Their victim: the master of ceremonies, Paul Wylie '91, who had to face the camera at all times. He was nervous to begin with--to skate, to host and no doubt to be representing Eliot House as one of its most famous young alums. Then, to top it all off, he had to be on the ice, on skates, in a tux, with a hand mike, and read a teleprompter, all the while heaving from having just done his own routine. He was so frazzled by the end of the evening that it was no surprise he fell flat on his face during the allskater finale. The producer called for a retaping, and Wylie and the rest of us had to try to muster whatever remaining enthusiasm we had after a night of retakes and elaborate staging for the camera.

I can't deny that the taping of "Evening" was for a far more noble purpose than the taping of the convention circus. Even though TV viewers won't be paying to see the show, they will become more familiar with the Jimmy Fund and the Dana Farber cancer Institute, which both raises awareness and may contribute to further fundraising.

Better, I guess, that the live audience sit through acts until they are perfect enough to be taped than to air a sloppy show that no one wants to watch on television. But I wish that the media didn't feel like they had to call the shots. TV shouldn't have to be so perfect. If I were sitting at home, I'd much rather see the encore with Wylie sliding on his belly. His recovery was amazing. And so was the view.

Corinne E. Funk's column appears on alternate Tuesdays.