Sunday, March 07, 2004
Me and TV
Television news became part of my life nearly 40 years ago.
Television news became my profession a decade later.
It was 1971.
I had just come through the 60's.
Memories of that tumultuous decade are still vivid to those of my generation. But just as we were a generation notable in the way we differed from our parents, so too are the memories.
If you ask most baby boomers to name the television images that were refinancing moments for them, many will include the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the Beatles first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, the Vietnam War and man’s first landing on the moon.
That’s what most white baby boomers remember.
For African-Americans, the images were different.
Police dogs unleashed on civil rights demonstrators, Martin Luther King, Jr. proclaiming, “I have a Dream,” the Kennedy assassinations, both John and Bobby and finally the death of Martin Luther King, Jr.
For many Hispanic, Asian and Native Americans, the assassinations of the Kennedy’s and King are also important.
Central to all these memories are the images we saw on television. For me, the images and their effect were profound.
Black America was flexing its collective muscles, moving from the non-violent posture of the civil rights movement to the strident and sometimes violent message espoused by Black Power advocates. Television had shown us the brutality of Southern segregation contrasted against the brave nobility of the Freedom Riders and civil rights marchers. But it also showed our cities in flames and the violent expressions of Black Rage.
As a young Negro (soon to be Black, Afro-American and now African-American), I was fascinated by the images I saw on television. It showed me things I had never seen. At the time, I had no idea I would actually work in the medium that was showing me these powerful images. Despite being raised by parents who told me I could do anything I put my mind to, I had no reason to think about television because I rarely saw anyone “colored” on TV. With the exceptions of ABC's Mal Goode, the first network correspondent of color, Bill Cosby's I SPY and Diahann Carroll's JULIA, television was as lily-white as the segregated schools of the south. When the NBC announcer proclaimed that this program “is being brought to you in living color” we noticed that the fabled peacock had no black tail feathers.
The urban riots of the mid and late sixties changed the complexion of television. Suddenly, white newspaper editors and television news directors realized they couldn't cover this story. Their white skins excluded them. A white reporter or photographer in an urban riot zone was on a suicide mission.
In its eagerness to “get the story,” the heretofore-closed doors of mainstream journalism, opened a crack. In newsrooms throughout the country, massagers, and mailroom personnel and in some cases janitors who were men of color (women still didn't rate) became “reporters.” What this meant was that they were sent into the riot areas with a notebook, told to write down what they saw and then come back and relate those stories to a white reporter or editor who wrote the story. A few were lucky enough to get a byline below the white reporters name, most got nothing other than the experience of being in the field. But the door had cracked open just enough. For me and those like me, that was all we needed.
But as the old cliché says, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” More on that when we continue.
Television news became part of my life nearly 40 years ago.
Television news became my profession a decade later.
It was 1971.
I had just come through the 60's.
Memories of that tumultuous decade are still vivid to those of my generation. But just as we were a generation notable in the way we differed from our parents, so too are the memories.
If you ask most baby boomers to name the television images that were refinancing moments for them, many will include the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the Beatles first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, the Vietnam War and man’s first landing on the moon.
That’s what most white baby boomers remember.
For African-Americans, the images were different.
Police dogs unleashed on civil rights demonstrators, Martin Luther King, Jr. proclaiming, “I have a Dream,” the Kennedy assassinations, both John and Bobby and finally the death of Martin Luther King, Jr.
For many Hispanic, Asian and Native Americans, the assassinations of the Kennedy’s and King are also important.
Central to all these memories are the images we saw on television. For me, the images and their effect were profound.
Black America was flexing its collective muscles, moving from the non-violent posture of the civil rights movement to the strident and sometimes violent message espoused by Black Power advocates. Television had shown us the brutality of Southern segregation contrasted against the brave nobility of the Freedom Riders and civil rights marchers. But it also showed our cities in flames and the violent expressions of Black Rage.
As a young Negro (soon to be Black, Afro-American and now African-American), I was fascinated by the images I saw on television. It showed me things I had never seen. At the time, I had no idea I would actually work in the medium that was showing me these powerful images. Despite being raised by parents who told me I could do anything I put my mind to, I had no reason to think about television because I rarely saw anyone “colored” on TV. With the exceptions of ABC's Mal Goode, the first network correspondent of color, Bill Cosby's I SPY and Diahann Carroll's JULIA, television was as lily-white as the segregated schools of the south. When the NBC announcer proclaimed that this program “is being brought to you in living color” we noticed that the fabled peacock had no black tail feathers.
The urban riots of the mid and late sixties changed the complexion of television. Suddenly, white newspaper editors and television news directors realized they couldn't cover this story. Their white skins excluded them. A white reporter or photographer in an urban riot zone was on a suicide mission.
In its eagerness to “get the story,” the heretofore-closed doors of mainstream journalism, opened a crack. In newsrooms throughout the country, massagers, and mailroom personnel and in some cases janitors who were men of color (women still didn't rate) became “reporters.” What this meant was that they were sent into the riot areas with a notebook, told to write down what they saw and then come back and relate those stories to a white reporter or editor who wrote the story. A few were lucky enough to get a byline below the white reporters name, most got nothing other than the experience of being in the field. But the door had cracked open just enough. For me and those like me, that was all we needed.
But as the old cliché says, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” More on that when we continue.
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