by Lisa Napoli
As a young man breaking into radio in Lafayette, Indiana, he’d convinced the owner of the local UHF station to let him launch a weekly dance show—a simple one-camera program for which he served as host, casting director, producer, set-builder, and ad salesman. Though sometimes he couldn’t lure young dancers to the set (high school sports proved a greater allure on a Friday), he was able to attract big-name talent who came through town, like Nat King Cole, Leslie Uggams, Gordon McRae—luminaries he’d never attract if he’d reached them in New York. The show proved the perfect “laboratory” to illustrate the power of a microphone and air time—and local programs.
Later, as a young naval officer working at the Pentagon, he saw firsthand the distortions and limitations of broadcast news—the short clips and sound bites that distilled the day’s events so superficially.
Distressed that the average American citizen couldn’t easily witness the inner working of government, Lamb had fought for the right for television cameras to broadcast democracy in action on Capitol Hill. Lawmakers had stalled, and then quibbled, about whether to allow this invasion of their hallowed chambers. Many were horrified at the idea that their proceedings would be made visible to the public that had elected them. For a time, it seemed a divided House might award broadcast rights to none other than the networks themselves. Lamb’s push for an independent, nonprofit service had mercifully prevailed. Cable-Satellite Public Affairs Network, also known as C-SPAN, had debuted in March 1979 with remarks from a young lawmaker from Tennessee, Albert Gore,3 who extolled the possibilities of the medium to revitalize democracy. “Television will change this institution, Mr. Speaker,” he said, “but the good will far outweigh the bad . . . The solution for the lack of confidence in government, Mr. Speaker, is more open government at all levels.”
To Lamb, the arrival of CNN was another sign that the entrenched system of reporting, and closed-door government, finally was breaking down.
“I’m as big a booster as you can find,” Lamb told Tush. “This is a terrific day in the history of news. It’s an important day. This country has been deprived of news that it could have gotten many years ago. So, I’m as excited as everyone else is.”
A handful of the thirty on-air “columnists” who’d been hired to fill CNN’s empty moments circulated by the food. Psychologist Dr. Joyce Brothers marveled over the dazzling array of equipment inside, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Anti-feminist crusader Phyllis Schlafly engaged in a heated conversation with Reese’s wife, Pat, about what became of babies born to mothers denied abortion. Conservative columnist Robert Novak admitted that he didn’t really understand cable television but acknowledged that multiplying the number of television channels was a “great step forward”—though toward what he didn’t explain.
In his neat white suit, the Reverend William Borders of the nearby Wheat Street Baptist Church explained to Tush that the new network was one of the great things happening in Atlanta. Of Ted and his idea, he beamed and said, “He’s absolutely the most fantastic, daring, courageous person of spiritual insight I’ve ever seen. I just wonder what he’s going to do next.”
Before anyone could find out what Ted might do next was the question of what would become of the venture whose imminent launch they were gathered to celebrate.
* * *
It had been one year, twenty-two days, and seven hours since Reese received the call that CNN was a go. The moment he had been waiting for his entire adult life had arrived. He’d been so eager to plunge in that when he’d agreed to a June 1 launch, he hadn’t realized it was a Sunday—typically, a dud of a news day. In a panic, he’d managed to push CNN’s debut till the dinner hour, which not only meant fewer hours to fill but a better party start time for the guests. Now if only the news gods would smile down.
Reese knew the critics didn’t believe viewers would ever choose news over entertainment. The audience might not know yet that they had an appetite for news, but he was going to prove they did. The greatest moment in history might actually be a heartbeat away. Soon they’d learn that if you dialed away from CNN, you’d risk missing it. What better drama could there be than that?
He had heard the sneering tone in the voices of reporters sent to quiz him these past few weeks, but it wasn’t just the journalists who were doubters. One banker, Robert Howitt of First Manhattan, declared it unlikely that CNN would have “any impact on either cable or broadcasting industries or their revenues.” Media buyer William Donnelly of Young & Rubicam confessed that in New York media circles, “an awful lot of people” were predicting—and almost hoping—that CNN would fail, for its success would upend not just news, but the entire advertising industry. New choices confused the established order. “Any establishment doesn’t like an entrepreneur,” he had said. “You know, ‘It’ll never fly, Orville.’ A lot of people don’t want to face the changes that would be caused.”
Bill Leonard, president of CBS News, wondered, “Why would anybody choose to watch a patched-together news operation that’s just starting against an organization like ours that’s been going for fifty years and spends $100 to $150 million a year?” That top network brass seemed poised for schadenfreude didn’t surprise Reese.
To hell with all the doubters, and with this frivolous party. Inside this old country club, converted to his specifications, history was about to be made, and he wanted off the dais so he could get inside. From this day forward, he believed, “presidents and kings, prime ministers and foreign ministers, the Pentagon, Congress, the media, and the public would have to adjust to CNN.”
Of the big picture, he was certain. Whether his troops could pull off the next three hours was the immediate concern.
* * *
Twenty minutes before six p.m., Ted ascended the stage and greeted the crowd, gesturing toward the three flags that were flying on the other side of the fountain.
One, he said, represented the state of Georgia, headquarters of the company. The second, of course, was the United States flag, which “represents our country and the way we intend to serve it with the Cable News Network.” And, lastly, he’d installed the United Nations flag because, he explained:
We hope that the Cable News Network, with its international coverage and greater-depth coverage, will bring both, in the country and in the world, a better understanding of how people from different nations live and work together, and within the nation work together, so that we can perhaps, hopefully, bring together in brotherhood and friendship, in kindness and peace the people of this nation and this world.
Now, it was time for the benediction.
“Let us pray,” said Reverend Borders, who proceeded to compare his host to Jesus Christ. “We thank thee this day—this day—for Ted Turner and all those who have worked with him. Continue, our father, in our behalf, in thy name, in thy name, in thy name we pray. Amen.”
With just minutes to go before six, Ted amended a piece by the poet Edward Kessler, which served as a mission statement.
To act upon one’s convictions while others wait
To create a positive force in a world where cynics abound,
To provide information to people when it wasn’t available before,
To offer those who want it a choice
For the American people, whose thirst for understanding and a better life has made this venture possible
For the cable industry, whose pioneering spirit caused this great step forward in communications
And for those employees of Turner Broadcasting, whose total commitment to their company has brought us together today
I dedicate the news channel for America—the Cable News Network.
The crowd dutifully rose for the pomp of the color guard, and the band began to play the national anthem. At the final note, Ted shouted his trademark, “Awwright!” as if he was in the front row at a Braves game.
In the mad dash up to this moment, it hadn’t occurred to anyone to install monitors for the guests outside to see what they’d c
ome to celebrate. As a drum rolled, a television camera, directed by channel 17 staff, slowly, almost with hesitation, zoomed in on the space-age dish farm. Was anyone out there in TV Land watching? Anyone who was now heard an off-camera announcer’s voice speeding through a globeful of cities, a teaser of where those dishes might soon transport you:
Saginaw Washington Birmingham New York US Naples Rome Los Angeles Niagara Falls Paris Tulsa Denver London Canton Newark Peking New Orleans San Diego Reno Nicaragua San Francisco Seoul Perth the Marianas the United Nations Vienna Buffalo Lima Kirabiti Islamabad Decatur Nashville Jamaica Jonestown Chicago Weatherford Topeka Tokyo Madison Fort Worth Fort Wayne . . .4
“The pit” control room at the moment CNN went live for the very first time on June 1, 1980, just after Ted’s dedication (which ran long). (Jeff Jeffares)
Inside, the director Guy Pepper, seated in the “pit,” the heart of the operation that until recently had been infested with rats, advised his crew, “Don’t forget, in television, shit flows downhill.” Then, the audience heard him speak the language of television, as CNN launched for business: “Ready camera three. One center up.”
The husband-and-wife anchor team from Sacramento had been personally selected by Ted for the honor of hosting the very first hour. For all the deliberations and rehearsals and angst, no one had scripted opening remarks. Moments before the debut, Kavanau, the brawn, and Zelman, the conscience, and Nagle, the heart of the operation, screamed at one another, five feet from the anchor desk. What should the first words uttered on Cable News Network be? Time had run out before a consensus was reached, so the smooth, California-chill anchors stopped wondering what the hell those shouting producers were going to tell them and simply dove in, as if they’d been sitting at the anchor desk for time eternal, waiting for their cue.
Reese beams with pride on the set beside one of his hires, anchorwoman Reynelda Muse. (AP Photo/Joe Holloway)
“Good evening, I’m David Walker . . .”
“And I’m Lois Hart. Now here’s the news . . .”
And for anyone in the 1.7 million potential homes who actually tuned in, the Cable News Network began, for the very first time, to hopscotch around the world for headlines.
* * *
“I’m so happy I could die,” said Ted, who’d snuck out of the party to go inside and gaze at the wonder of his $20 million investment. “Nobody believed we could do it. But there it is. I got to find a crow. Where can I get a crow? It should be a nice long large dead crow.” He planned to send it to that clown in the newspaper business who’d said he didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.
Reese stuck it to the critics in his own way. Twenty minutes into their maiden voyage, after a commercial for Maalox Plus antacid, the crew broke away from a spot advertising Nestea to a pooled live shot from Fort Wayne, Indiana.5 The news gods had answered his prayers by delivering a tiny morsel. President Carter had traveled to the Midwest to visit the civil rights leader Vernon Jordan in the hospital. Jordan had been the victim of a racist gunman several days earlier while in the company of a white woman. Jane Maxwell had spent the better part of the past twenty-four hours talking her way onto this live shot, reminding the local NBC affiliate what Reese had drummed into her: a “pool for one is a pool for all.” Now, in living glory, the president appeared live. The networks might include a soundbite of his remarks in their newscasts, but here CNN was beaming the briefing out live, unedited, as it happened—a curiosity rarely seen on television.
“How do you like the way we cut away from our first commercial to go to Carter?” Reese gloated to Ted. “It couldn’t have been better if God had written it.”
“That’ll show them,” said Ted, distracted. “That’ll show ’em we’ll never bow down to the advertisers. You can always run ads later. Who cares about ads anyhow? It’s a news operation.”
With that, he went in search of a television on which he could watch the end of the Braves against the Dodgers. (They were winning.)
In master control, Alec picked up tiny Jane and twirled her around with delight.
“You realize,” he declared, “we’ve just pulled the blocks out from under the runaway train of news.”
* * *
There was absolutely nothing monumental about what unfolded over the next sixty minutes. It looked like news, albeit much of it covering a subject that Ted had so frequently said he despised: violence. Rounding out the hour: live shots from Israel and Miami. Video from New York of the Israel Day parade. A long report on air safety. A preview of the upcoming Super Tuesday. An interview with the family of a convicted murderer about to die on death row. A teaser of an upcoming “exclusive” pretaped interview with President Carter that would run at eight p.m.6
What mattered was that the first hour was now history, and CNN was now real. Lois Hart signed off for the nightly sports wrap-up, with a neat little bow:
“Stay with us. We’re going to have all kinds of news, sports, weather, and special features, coming from now on and forever.”
Waves of relief swept over the CNN originals, those lucky enough to have been assigned to work this day. As they finished their shifts, they made their way to a party in the back room, singing and laughing and congratulating one another, relieved to have the laundry list of bewitching obstacles and worry of the past months behind them. Now they just had to do what they’d just done, over and over again.
Against all odds and obstacles, their ship had sailed, and initial reviews were favorable.
“Goodbye, Walter Cronkite,” Jonathan Miller of the Washington Post wrote. “Hello, Ted.”
Since D.C. wasn’t wired for cable, his colleague Tom Shales had to trek over the river to Arlington, Virginia, to view the maiden voyage. It was “obvious from the premiere,” he wrote, “that CNN means business and that it is anything but the plaything of a playboy. A new day dawned at dusk.”
Variety’s notice glowed. “Here is news, alive with all its wonderful technical warts and missed cues, and it all worked.”
But Dick Williams of the Atlanta Constitution posed the most pragmatic observation. “The question ‘Will Turner pull it off?’ has been replaced by ‘How long do you think it will last?’”
1 There’s dispute over whether the garden produced much vegetation. Some recall a bounty of radishes, beans, and zucchini, while others swear it was fallow because of chemicals added by the construction crew. Perhaps the truth lies in a bit of both stories: Research chief Bob Sieber says Ted looked out his office window one day, complained about the horticultural vision, and promptly ordered it removed. (In late 1981, the space was built out into the headquarters for CNN2.)
2 A copy of the tape was discovered by an intern in 2015 and lives online in a variety of places, including here: https://jalopnik.com/this-is-the-video-cnn-will-play-when-the-world-ends-1677511538.
3 You can see the first twenty minutes ever broadcast from the House here: https://www.c-span.org/video/?318387-1/televised-session-house-representatives. On June 2, 1986, Gore, having risen to the Senate, spoke during the first session televised from that chamber: https://www.c-span.org/video/?45919-1/30th-anniversary-tv-cameras-senate.
4 The entire first hour of CNN is available online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWhgKuKvvPE.
5 The White House Press Pool had been developed as a space saver and a convenience so that each network could rotate coverage of the president’s daily movements, freeing up crew time and space and minimizing disruption. The pool is different from the White House Correspondents Association.
6 Presidents make for splashy network beginnings. When CBS News launched its half-hour news format in September 1963, an interview with President Kennedy was featured.
CHAPTER TEN
Duck Hunting with Fidel
March 30, 1981, started out as one kind of rotten and, by mid-afternoon, had U-turned into rotten of a far more serious type. As the assignment editor of the Washington, D.C., bureau of the first all-news network, Cissy Bak
er, age twenty-two, faced a dismally boring slate of stories this dreary Monday.
An internship at a local television station during college had indoctrinated Baker in the macabre philosophy of a wizened broadcast journalist. She found herself daydreaming about what might spice up the day—a fire, possibly, or a shooting.
Turning her prematurely jaded ear toward the police scanner, Baker listened intently, hoping a morsel of news might reveal itself.
Desperately attempting to increase its subscriber base, CNN provided ads like these to cable operators around the nation to place in local papers. Other ads proclaimed CNN as purveyor of “the news of your life when you need it most,” and described the service as “Television You Can Take Seriously”—a nod to counter Ted’s earlier cable offering.
Producers at headquarters in Atlanta had learned, in the short ten months since the Cable News Network’s debut, to lean on the bureau to fill the never-ending news cycle. Sometimes, forty minutes into the hour, it would become clear there was simply nothing new to report. A desperate rush to cue up some taped piece that had aired earlier in the day would ensue.
The staff also knew, by then, the ironclad tyranny of Reese, who some called “the dictator.” He hawked every moment that went out on what he considered to be his airwaves, sometimes even calling the control room in the middle of the night to back-seat drive the coverage or simply scream about a decision he deemed stupid.
One original described the cascading shouts as the “blame game drill-down.” Reese would yell at Kavanau, who would yell at the producers, who would yell at the editors, who’d blame the writers, who lived in fear of the “green book,” where poorly written scripts were enshrined each day. “If they were, you were toast,” Joan Greig told Atlanta magazine. Gems included a story on an obscure holiday that began: “Yesterday went unnoticed by many people.”
The nation’s capital city offered a reliable, never-ending source of speechifying filler. The mere presence of CNN’s live cameras at press conferences and other events had started to kill the long-standing practice of revealing news under an embargo. No way to “hold for release” what had just been announced when CNN had broadcast out the news live.1
