by Bill Evans
“I don’t have any comment right now, except to tell you that those pictures are private, and I don’t want you using them.” Then, in a last, desperate attempt to sell his plea, he said, “Those pictures are also three years old.”
“I appreciate your predicament, Mr. Charles, and we will take under consideration your request. However, if there is a story here that our viewers need to be informed of, we will tell that story. And before we tell this story, if there is one, we will give you every chance to comment on the record. Do you want to talk to us?”
The minister hung up. The news director knew right then and there he had a story. Otherwise, why the phone call? And in Jack Router’s sick sense of humor he muttered to himself, “And God bless.”
***
Jennie and her cameraman, Greg Simmons, arrived at James Robertson’s condo inside Palm Valley Country Club. Robertson had rented the place to stay in while going through his divorce proceedings, which had been quietly going on for several years, up until this point, when, as in a lot of high-financed divorces, things turned ugly.
“Jennie, can I offer you and Greg a Coke or something to drink?” Robertson was trying to be the perfect host.
“No sir. We’re good.” Greg had set up his tripod and a few lights. He placed a microphone on Robertson’s shirt, up by the top button. Jennie already had her wireless mic on as she took her place in the chair facing her subject.
The cameraman said, “Jennie, we are ready. Camera is rolling.”
“Please say and spell your full name.”
Reporters always asked this in case the studio wanted to put the subject’s name on the screen.
“J-A-M-E-S and R-O-B-E-R-T-S-O-N.”
“Today you delivered to me a series of photographs. Are these the pictures you sent me?” Jennie handed James the manila envelope. He took out the pictures and looked very briefly at them.
“Yes, those are the pictures.”
“Mr. Robertson, who are the three people shown in the pictures?”
“That is Pastor Steve Charles, his wife, and my wife, Carol. As you can see, the two women are topless.”
Jennie thought that her subject was very good. He didn’t just trust that the station would show the pictures—he stated the obvious, that the women were topless.
“Why did you want me to have these? What is the significance from a news standpoint?”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Becoming friends with my minister was one of them. He’s supposed to be a trustworthy counselor to his congregation. He should be above reproach.”
Jennie’s pager vibrated, and as she listened to Robertson describe his relationship with Pastor Charles, she read the text message. Call me ASAP. It was from Jack.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Robertson. I need to call my news director. Please forgive me.” Jennie unhooked her microphone and stepped outside the screen patio door so she would have some privacy. Three minutes later she returned and put her microphone back on and sat down to continue.
“Mr. Robertson, TV3 has learned through your divorce papers that you have accused Pastor Charles of having an affair with your wife.” Greg panned the camera for a closeup on James Robertson, who didn’t show any surprise. This was exactly what he had hoped for.
“Yes, that’s true. And these pictures back up my allegation that Steve Charles did not have the moral fiber that he preaches about every Sunday.”
“So, is this really about your divorce and the fact that you hold your pastor responsible for breaking up your marriage?” Jennie was pleased that she asked that question; she felt and knew she had raised her game.
“Absolutely, I hold him more than just somewhat accountable. I’m not innocent and don’t pretend to be. But he’s my pastor.”
“What do you mean when you say you are not innocent?”
Robertson showed signs of being uncomfortable for the first time during the interview.
“I had an affair with Mrs. Charles. Pastor Charles found out and took revenge by having an affair with my wife. So, he’s not the sole blame for our divorce, but for God’s sake, he is my pastor. My indiscretion wasn’t really even an affair. We had an arrangement with our two marriages. Hence the picture of Pastor Charles in the hot tub with our wives. We were actually swingers until the pastor took it a step further, playing outside the rules we agreed to.”
Jennie took a few minutes to let what was just said sink in. She checked her notes and then threw out one last question.
“Mr. Robertson, we hear that there might be some financial improprieties connected with Pastor Charles and the church. Do you know anything about this? Or have you heard anything about this?”
Robertson considered whether he wanted to answer this question. He had accomplished what he wanted to do with this interview. He’d let TV3 chase the rest of the story.
“I’ve heard a few things, but I don’t have any firsthand knowledge of anything. I’ve been mainly concerned with my divorce and trying to gain custody of my kids.”
Jennie signaled to cut the video camera off and unclipped her microphone. “Thank you for your time. Can I call you to follow up if I have any questions?”
“Yes, of course.”
Greg packed up the tripod and his camera along with the lights, and within five minutes they were out the door and back in their TV3 news van.
Tom Preston had reached out to the home office of the Evangelical Free Churches of America, the parent denomination of Christian Community Church. No one would talk to the TV3 anchor. Tom knew by their reactions that something was in the works. He definitely got the impression that they were expecting the press to be calling. Tom left his contact information even though he didn’t expect to get a call from anyone.
Jennie and Greg left the Robertson condo in Palm Valley and drove down the road a short distance to Woodhaven Country Club, where Jennie had arranged to meet an anonymous source from inside Christian Community Church. She agreed to camouflage the face and voice of her interviewee so no one would recognize the person. This would only add to the drama of the whole story.
Once through the gates at Woodhaven, the security officer gave the TV3 van clear instructions to the address they were going to. Woodhaven Country Club was one of the older clubs, but in the case of this particular condo, it was well taken care of—a little two-bedroom that was modestly decorated and extremely clean.
An older woman answered the door after Jennie rang the doorbell. Pleasantries were exchanged, and Jennie did everything she could to assure her interviewee that her identity would be protected. Finally, it was time to do the interview.
“We’ve promised to keep your identity a secret. You’re connected to Christian Community Church. What role do you play there?”
“I worked in the business office until last week.” The voice was clear and distinct but would be electronically muffled in the edit room before the interview was aired.
“Why did you leave the church’s employment?”
“I was no longer comfortable with the things I was hearing regarding the church’s finances.”
“What do you mean? What kind of things were you hearing?”
“Questions were being asked about funds being comingled between accounts. There were questions about a donation that was given to the church that somehow ended up in the Get More of Life nonprofit organization. I just wasn’t comfortable with all the drama or stress, and that’s why I decided to leave.”
“Has anyone discovered any wrongdoing at this point?”
“No, but I do know that there are several audits being conducted by different organizations.”
“Different organizations? What organizations would those be?”
“The church, for one, is conducting its own audit. The parent church is also conducting an audit.”
“When you say the parent church, do you mean the Evangelical Free Churches of America?”
“Yes, I believe that’s their name.”
“Is there any
thing else that you would like to add?”
“I don’t think so. You might want to talk to any of a dozen people that have left the church. Several of the board members have resigned, as well as several of the assistant pastors on staff. A lot of us have left.”
Jennie played it smart, acting—as any good reporter would do—as if she already knew the information that was being shared.
“Thank you for your time. We will do everything possible to protect your identity. I promise,” the young reporter assured her subject.
Greg once again packed up the equipment, and within ten minutes the two TV3 newspeople were heading back to the station.
Jennie immediately called her news director. “Jack. I’m not sure if anyone else has this, but several board members as well as quite a few of the assistant pastors have resigned their positions over this. There are also multiple audits going on over the church’s finances.”
“We heard about the audits, and about some of the board members. We didn’t know about the assistant pastors resigning. Come back so we can put this together, and let’s see if Steve Charles, the good pastor, wants to talk on camera.”
Jack dialed Steve Charles’s number, not expecting him to answer. He didn’t. The news director left a message:
“Mr. Charles, this is Jack Router, the news director for TV3. We are going to air a story tonight regarding allegations that you acted inappropriately as the senior pastor of Christian Community Church. We also would like to ask you questions about some of your financials and the audits that are taking place at this time. Please call me back. We’d like to give you a chance to tell your side of the story.”
Jack purposely left such a detailed message to let the pastor know that this was extremely serious. Jack hoped it was enough to persuade the pastor to talk on the record.
***
It was one hour before the five o’clock newscast. Jennie was with the live truck outside the Riverside County Courthouse in Indio. She would tell the story of the divorce and custody battle between James and Carol Robertson. The interview with James Robertson would be played, but not the whole thing. The newsroom would hold parts of it back to use at six and again at eleven. This first story would also set up the six o’clock tease, where TV3 would reveal the photographs as well as the interview with the anonymous former employee.
At 4:30 the direct line in the news director’s office rang. “This is Jack.”
“Jack, this is Pastor Steve Charles. I got your message. I’ll be happy to talk to you, but I won’t be able to until tomorrow. I would suggest you hold off on the story until then.”
“Mr. Charles, with all due respect, we’re going to run the story tonight. We’ll be happy to interview you later this evening, tomorrow, or whenever.”
Steve Charles stayed calmed but showed his disappointment. “I’m sorry to hear that. As I said before, I will sue you and the station for any damage you cause me or my family or our church.” And with that the phone went dead.
Jack walked to the news set, where Tom Preston was getting ready to start the newscast.
“I just heard from Pastor Steve Charles. He says we should hold off on the story. He says he’s going to sue us.”
“Are we killing the story, boss?” Tom Preston asked, looking at his co-anchor and then his news director. He already knew the answer. Killing a story because of an idle threat was not in Jack Router’s makeup. If anything, it made him want to run the story even more.
“No way! We’ve got this right. We’ve done everything we needed to do to check this story out. Let’s kick the shit out of it. Everyone needs to be on your game tonight.”
Jack turned and walked out of the studio so the newscast could begin.
All three newscasts that night went perfectly. And stories like this had legs that lasted until the whole story ran its course. TV3 would stay on top of this story for the next several months. No lawsuit was ever filed.
20
JACK GATHERED HIS newsroom troops for their afternoon editorial meeting.
“Okay, quiet down. We’ve got a lot to discuss regarding our spring break coverage. The past several years have been crazy, and our mayor is saying he’s going to take control of it this year.”
“Sonny, Sonny, Sonny.” The main anchor shook his head. “I love this mayor. He gives us so many stories to cover. Not to mention some unbelievable quotes. And this is still only his first year.”
“Yeah, but once he was elected he started making rumblings about shutting down this year’s spring break. Half the businesses downtown are going nuts about this notion. The other half seem to be waiting to see what Sonny is going to propose.”
It was January 1990 and Sonny Bono was determined to make a difference as Palm Springs’ mayor. He wanted to make a statement and make sure his city was a safe and family-friendly one. His idea was that more people would come to spring break if families could trust it was not going to be full of the rowdy college crowds of years past. The national media always had a field day showcasing what they described as the riots in Palm Springs.
“We live here, and the national media blew this riot business way out of proportion. Most of the people here, especially the downtown restaurants and bars, love it,” Tom said, giving the new people in the newsroom his perspective from being on the scene every spring break for the past decade.
Jennie asked the question everyone wanted answered. “Do we know what Sonny’s plan is?”
The room waited as the news director explained, almost laughing as he did it. “Well, believe it or not, Sonny wants to ban G-strings and bullet motorcycles.”
The newsroom roared with laughter.
“You are kidding, right? The answer is getting rid of G-strings and motorcycles? What a ridiculous idea,” Tom Preston said.
“Okay, settle down. Seriously, that is what is being talked about. We need to get someone on the record about this.”
Tom Preston pitched his protégé for the story. “Let’s give it to Blake and see what she can do with it.”
Some of the experienced people in the room saw right through Tom’s suggestion. No one fought it, though.
Blake spoke up as soon as her name was mentioned. She never wanted to miss any opportunity. A story on the celebrity mayor shutting down spring break in Palm Springs could be big. It would look great on her demo reel.
“I’d like the shot, Jack. Let me work my city hall connections and see what I can find out.”
The news director thought about it and then threw something else out to the room.
“Okay. Terri, you work this story, but we have another Bono story working at the same time. Gene Autry, owner of the Angels, has made a request to Sonny and the Palm Springs City Council for a renovation to their practice field to the tune of ten million dollars. Without it, he’ll move the team to Arizona for spring training. Tom, I want you to chase this story. Both stories involve Sonny Bono and the council. So, you and Blake work together. Let’s see where they go from here. If Sonny is going to shut down spring break, he will have to announce his plans rather quickly. He’s almost out of time.”
The news meeting went on for a few more minutes. Then it broke up so everyone could get back to work. Jack Router felt renewed energy in the news department. Having Sonny Bono as mayor was proving to be fun.
***
January in the Palm Springs resort market was known for the ever-growing “White Party”—one week when over ten thousand gay men and lesbians converged on downtown Palm Springs, which had the second largest gay population in California. It brought a huge financial windfall to the market. It also brought a lot of challenges to the local news organizations, especially the TV stations.
John Miller met with his news director to discuss coverage plans.
“Jack, you need to make sure you have a meeting with your reporters and photographers. Make sure they understand what we can show as far as pictures for our stories. And, Jack, why do they call it White Party?”
; “The clothing is all or almost all white,” Jack answered and agreed with the ground rules laid out by his boss. For the past five years, he’d had to be extra careful about his coverage of the White Party. There were huge events every day and night during this week. A lot of skin and a lot of what some would consider inappropriate touching was very visible. John didn’t want to offend his viewership. You could show and tell the stories of the White Party, but you had to make sure you kept it TV-appropriate for the local viewers.
Three days into the White Party, it happened. Every year there were consequences—that was just something that happened when ten thousand people gathered to party hard. Being gay or lesbian doesn’t have anything to do with it, most of the time. That wasn’t the case this year.
“Tom. Greg. Come into my office, please.”
The main anchor walked by Greg Simmons, the chief photographer.
“What did we do now?”
Both men knew that the news director saying “please” was not a good sign. Jack directed their attention to his TV screen.
“Watch this.” Jack hit play. The screen filled with a story from last night’s newscast on the White Party. “This is footage from our live shot last night. Do either of you see anything wrong with this?”
“What should we be seeing?” asked the anchor.
Jack rewound the story and played it again, pointing at a crowd shot of men dancing and groping each other.
“Shit.” The anchor was quick this time to see what his news director was showing him.
“You see it?”
“See what?” asked the chief photographer, who still hadn’t caught up to everyone else in the room.
“That’s Don James,” claimed the anchor. “I didn’t know he was gay. Hell, I don’t think anyone knew he was gay.”
Don James, the number one DJ in the desert and owner of DJ’s, the place where the media hung out, was in their video—he was the same man Lisa saw former sales manager Ross blow, so Tom wasn’t quite right.
