Real broadcast news is disappearing

_I made the jump from print to
broadcasting in the late 1960s.
The television networks were
anchored by news icons who had
established strong credentials
as true journalists: Walter Cronkite,
Chet Huntley, David Brinkley and
Howard K. Smith. I chose to work
for Westinghouse Broadcasting,
where Rod McLeish and Carl Rowan
hung out as commentators. Solid re-
porting and good writing had a home
over the airwaves.
Back then, radio programmers saw
newsrooms as a necessary evil. They
were expensive. Trained and talented
reporters and anchors didn't come
cheap. And they required expensive
support in equipment, news wires
and transportation.
The ban on over-the-air cigarette
advertising took effect at the end of
my first year in radio. Just about
every commercial break had con-
tained an ad for Winston, Newport,
Marlboro, Kent -- you name it. Then
there were none. I didn't realize it at
the time, but the ban on cigarette ad-
vertising would eventually bring
about an end to our pastoral news-
room existence.
Radio and television sales depart-
ments had to replace a major chunk
of advertising -- and fast. They in-
vaded the tranquil turf of the news-
papers, competing for retail adver-
tising. The days of easy national
advertising were over.

Advertising dollars became
scarcer about the same time news
salaries and newsroom technology
advanced. The spread of FM radio
more than doubled competition on
the radio dial. Broadcast program-
mers started to look into newsrooms
as fertile ground for budget cuts and
change.
I remember serving as a news di-
rector in the late '70s and early '80s,
jealously guarding against intruders
from broadcasting sales depart-
ments. It became a losing battle. The
awards we won didn't seem to mat-
ter; cutting expenses did. I was be-
ing forced to dismantle the news-

_____________

Programmers have
invaded what was once
the sacred ground of
the newsrooms.

rooms I had worked so hard to
carefully recruit and build.
That's when I left the business.
My greatest fears have become to-
day's broadcast reality. Corporate
broadcast ownership is now driven
by investor returns. Programmers
have answered the call and invaded
what was once the sacred ground of
the newsrooms. A new breed of net-
work anchors has taken over: People

who have grown up under studio
lights. People who have worked their
way up though soft morning show
network programming, wearing silly
costumes and sampling celebrity
chef food. People who never experi-
enced the true grit of frontline re-
porting and deadline writing.
We now have Katie Couric.
The decision to place her in front
of the CBS network anchor desk was
a programming -- not a news -- de-
cision. It is hardly revolutionary. Ed-
ward R. Murrow sat uncomfortably
puffing away at his sponsor's ciga-
rettes, voyeuristically invading
celebrities' homes each week on the
smarmy "Person to Person" so he
could unleash his true journalistic
talents on hard-hitting weekly docu-
mentaries on "See It Now!"
But now we have Katie Couric --
with no balance. No tradeoffs. There
are no journalistic talents to un-
leash. As another CBS anchor used
to say, "and that's the way it is." His
predecessor said it more succinctly:
"Good night, and good luck!"

Dick Stone,
president,
Dick Stone Communications
Inc., Highland Park

Editor's note: Dick Stone's 26-year
news career includes stints as UPI
Jakarta bureau chief and as a reporter
and news director for WIND and
WCFL radio in Chicago.