Please stand still while I point my hat at you

(I am pleased to deliver more prophecy from the mcarp archives…)

Tips from the I-Team toolbox.

A producer in my newsroom was working on one of those ‘evergreen’ investigative pieces (i.e., one of those stories whose shocking secrets you can stick in a file folder, ready and waiting to be ‘discovered’ for the next ratings period).

But, there was a problem.

The subject matter was a ‘sting’ of disreputable auto mechanics. The premise: find an older, high-mileage car, have it repaired to certifiably perfect running order by a master mechanic, then take it to other mechanics to see if they find anything ‘wrong’ with it.

The producer had followed the game plan, and sure enough, one of the mechanics she’d targeted told her the ‘perfect’ car had a leaking head gasket. But a telltale smear of oil down the side of the engine block proved that in fact, the gasket was leaking; our ‘master mechanic’ had missed it.

“No problem,” the producer reasoned, as her investigative piece started to disintegrate before her eyes. “I’ll have Frank write and voice it. He’ll know what to do.”

“How will that fix it?” I asked.

“You know,” she replied. “He can make it sound more investigative: ‘We discovered…’, ‘Our investigation revealed…’ — that sort of stuff.”

“In other words,” I said, “to make this guy look guilty, even though he’s honest.”

Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed in that case, and the story died in its sleep.

Somebody said all reporting is investigative. I disagree. In television, next to no reporting is investigative. Especially the stuff billed as investigative. Generally speaking, investigative reporting on local news is general assignment reporting with a few extra buzzwords and ominous pauses in the delivery.

For example:

“Our investigation revealed that these convenience store snacks are made mostly (ominous investigative pause)… of sugar.

“We took our hidden camera into this daycare center, and discovered that every afternoon, the staff makes the children take naps (OIP)… on floor mats.

Which brings us to the subject of hidden cameras. One station for which I worked sent a crew to cover a hockey game. While they were there, they shot pictures of underage teenagers buying beer at the concession stand. It was being done in plain sight, and they got plenty of footage.

But it didn’t look ‘investigative’.

So, the station sent a photographer to a subsequent hockey game with a hidden camera, wedged in his hat, to obtain dramatic, grainy, secret footage of the fluorescent lights overhanging the concession stand, plus the occasional few frames of a teen buying beer.

The camera, not the teens or the beer, had become the focal point of the story.

What was the point? The point was that the grainy, unsteady look of the hidden camera video suggests, rightly or wrongly, something bad is going on, and that something msyterious and James Bond-like is being done to uncover it.

Most investigative coverage can be pretty much summed up in the tease: “Coming up… we get the goods on a local businessman who doesn’t buy TV advertising.”

It somehow became conventional wisdom that investigative reporting must be, by definition, prosecutorial in nature. I think early episodes of 60 Minutes, with Mike Wallace and Dan Rather chasing bad guys across the parking lot, microphone in hand, left us with that belief.

But what if there isn’t a bad guy?

In the real world, issues don’t always have a clear-cut hero and villain. Sometimes — most times — everyone is a little bit right and a little bit wrong.

But you rarely see investigative reporting that doesn’t have comic book-like delineations between good and evil. And because the I-Team goes in with the intent that it is going to portray someone as ‘the bad guy’, stations tend to focus their efforts on people who aren’t likely to fight back. Advertisers and people with good lawyers get a pass.

I think the reason so much investigative reporting focuses on sex offenders (other than the obvious advantage of being able to put the word SEX in huge letters in a promo) is because sex offenders are a safe and easy target. No convicted sex offender is going to complain about being exploited for ratings. (And the fact TV news is notoriously unwilling to investigate, for example, used car salesmen is a pretty good indicator of how far down the scale it’s got to go before it feels safe getting the goods on someone.)

“Sex offenders could be living in your neighborhood!” Really. Given that we don’t do island penal colonies anymore, I’d say that was pretty much a given. There were more homicides and armed robberies in my neighborhood than sex offenses last year, but no reporter is digging up the names of all the convicted robbers and killers living around me.

When was the last time you saw an investigative report exploring better ways to deal with sex offenders, as opposed to a wide-eyed investigative reporter waving the printout of registered sex offenders at the camera?

Easy enough to report that they’re there; we already know that. How about some solutions?

There are obviously laudable exceptions to the rule. The Firestone tire story, broken by a TV station in Houston, proves it. There’s no question more Americans would have died had a local TV news reporter not tied together the string of apparently unconnected fatalities and lawsuits stemming from faulty tires.

And Firestone is a big company, with big lawyers. The auto maker most affected, Ford, is a major television advertiser.

It’s no wonder all those other stations are trying to claim credit for the story by claiming they were on first with weather video of some guy changing a flat tire along the Interstate.

(originally published by Michael Carpenter, republished with permission.)

Breaking Kayfabe

(This is the first of the mcarp essays, written more than 10 years ago by Michael Carpenter, a broadcast journalism refugee who found the light… republished with permission.)

Breaking Kayfabe

I learned an interesting word on the Internet a couple of years ago: kayfabe.

It’s a carney term, transplanted in later years to professional wrestling. It means to always keep up the illusion, and never allow a moment’s candor to reveal it’s all an act.

Pro wrestlers who’ve been out of the business for years will still swear it was all real: the grudges, the death cage matches, the ‘loser leaves town’ matches. Until WWF owner Vince McMahon decided to blow kayfabe all to hell, rare was the pro wrestler who would admit anything about the business was less than completely genuine.

(An aside: what the hell was John Stossel thinking when he confronted pro wrestler ‘Dr. D’ Schulz and asked him to admit he was a fake? What did Stossel think the guy would do — scuff his toe on the floor and say, “Aw, gawrsh, Mister Stossel. Ya got me red-handed”? Or maybe he would blame his producer.

Of course the guy beat the crap out of him. I would’ve probably done the same thing.)

McMahon may be willing to blow his own cover, but television news still sticks to its illusions. Sometimes, it’s forgotten they are illusions. I’ve known news directors who genuinely believed their anchors were covering a half-dozen stories a week, just because they saw promos saying they did — even though they hadn’t seen the anchors themselves set foot out of the newsroom in six or seven years.

As a friend of mine, still in the business, once said: “They lie to the viewers, they lie to us, they lie to each other, they lie to themselves. And they’ve been lying for so long, they’ve forgotten what the truth was to start with.”

These essays and anecdotes are a form of ‘breaking kayfabe.’ Those of you currently, or formerly, in the business will see little or nothing that surprises you. As for the rest of you, if it’s too tough to bear, maybe there’s a Seinfeld rerun on somewhere.

Mike Carpenter
Oklahoma City, November 2000

Y2KX

y2k

Of course, the proper name for the year is MMX. 2010. The Year We Make Contact, or some such rubbish. Start the countdown clock for the Mayan Calendar hoaxes.

I remember where I was ten years ago.

I was a member of the working media, assigned to sit at the “bunker” of the state of Alabama’s Emergency Operations Center, as all the authorities and grand-high Poohbah muckety-mucks gathered to observe — well, as it turned out, nothing.

Many of us had sounded the alarm that there was nothing to be alarmed about, but we were drowned out with the Millennial Panic that was Y2K. (Which, in another fit of ill-informed irony, wasn’t even the start of the Millennium, which began in 2001.)

Team Coverage of Nothing

I remember the news accounts leading up to that day. For months, the national media had a field day recounting doomsday scenarios for what would happen when internal clocks got thrown for a loop. The news media and the late-night comics had their way with the state of Alabama in particular. While private businesses, state and local governments were throwing budgets to the wind to corral this “Y2K bug,” companies and particularly municipalities in the Heart of Dixie weren’t following Chicken Little’s lead.

At one point in mid-1999, there was a wire story indicating that if Alabama tripled its Y2K preparedness spending, it would still rank last among the states. Of course, it was followed with dire predictions about what would happen, and the obligatory jokes about how Alabama didn’t have enough technology anyway, and was still coping with Y1K compliance…

…yet I don’t remember a single story after-the-fact about how Alabama didn’t waste billions of dollars preventing Dutch Tulip Blight, or the oncoming stampedes of Jackalopes. Funny how that happens.

Personal Impact

Because of Y2K, I spent that New Year’s Eve away from my fiance. She was at her apartment, and I was in Clanton at “Ground Zero” for “live coverage” of an “event” that was less than a zero. (By the time in was midnight in Alabama, more than a dozen time zones had already made it safely across the threshold. I think that would make it cease to be ‘news’ at that point.)

As it happens, I was able to pass a coded message to my now wife, in clear defiance of FCC guidelines about using the public airwaves for personal communication. My wife’s name, Brenda, happened to be the same as our lead female anchor. So when I punched the name in the sentence “Happy New Year, Brenda… I’ll be back to see you soon” none were the wiser.

Still, it sucked to be away on a nothing assignment.

Panic Feeds the Needy

There always needs to be a scare of some type, because there is a healthy percentage of the public that doesn’t feel Important unless it is seen to be caring about Big Important Things. Usually, when Big Important Things have to do with personal issues or matters of faith, they don’t have an impact. But when enough people use their panic about Big Important Things to  spur government action, they can be very adamant about saving the world with expensive remedies.

Afterward, they can call their prescription a grand success. After all, there was no Tulip Blight, and nary a Jackalope footprint in the snow.

Have a happy and blessed 2010. Make a resolution to keep things in perspective.

Cutting Corners

We’ve got that B-Roll!

“b-roll” is the term used for the video that is brought in after-the-fact to supplement a news story or a commercial.

When I was in television news, it was considered almost sinful to rely too much on file video. We prided ourselves on writing to the video we had, and not pulling generic stuff from the archives.

It was a sign of laziness if one were to write the copy first, then hunt for specific video to make it fit. More often than not, you get a better story by writing to what you experienced and perceived than some generic and stale ideal.

I knew many in the business, though, who were masters at using stale stock video. Some kept their own libraries of traffic, weather, schools and “people walking around.”

The “B” in b-roll doesn’t stand for “bland,” but that’s not a bad guess. It had to do with the early film editing process, where there were two channels being mixed together live on the air. Typically, you’d have the reporter’s narration and the sound bites on the A-channel, and the cover video (with natural sound) on the B-channel.

Modern editing has rendered these notions moot, because non-linear video setups allow for multiple tracks, overdubs, and slowing of video in an instant. Need to trim a little bit of video? No problem. The fancy dissolves and wipes are a cinch, too. Now you don’t have to pay attention to an A-roll and a B-roll, because each little bit is a snippet in its own right, and is sequenced automatically by a processor.

TV’s Future is in the Past

Yet, even with the video innovation, there are two lessons:

1) Jargon never goes away. We will still have “B-Roll” long after the generation who actually edited on film. Ask anyone in a TV newsroom, and they can tell you what B-Roll is, even if they’ve never touched film or can’t explain the origin of the term.

2) B-Roll will never go away. The declining population in newsrooms isn’t going to magically rebound when the economy improves, meaning stations (that survive) will do so by doing more with less. Shooting fresh video can be costly, and if you make a practice of discouraging the travel and time required to acquire video you can shoehorn a little extra “product” out of the crews you have.

And that’s what it is, “product.”

Which makes this fake ad as raucously funny as it is sadly prophetic.

(hat tip to my friend John McQuiston for finding this clip.)