by Ted Turner
Whenever I was home, I tried to put my time with my kids to good use and while I might not have been there as much as some fathers, I was around enough to know that my children were coming along really well and I was very proud of them.
17
World Citizen
CNN had been on the air about eighteen months when we discovered that Fidel Castro was a viewer. We weren’t distributing the channel to international markets at that point but our signal spilled into Cuba and when one of our crews went there they found that Castro had installed his own dish and watched us regularly. In fact, he was so enthusiastic about our service that he invited me to visit.
This gave me a lot to think about. My father had raised me to be distrustful of communists and this view was reinforced by the political climate of the times. I had been voting Republican for years and still considered myself a conservative, although I’d never been politically active. I had casually mentioned to people that I might run for president but this was never something I really considered seriously (and the only time I ever attended a Republican function was when I went to the Goldwater party in Atlanta but I was only there trying to meet girls).
Now that I was in the news business I wanted to become more involved in world affairs. I also believed that it pays to understand your enemy, and at that time, communists were our enemies. I joked that the invitation to Cuba might be part of a plot to have me kidnapped. But why would Castro want to kidnap me? (I was working so hard at the time that I remarked that a kidnapping might not be a bad thing—if they held me captive at one of their beach resorts I might even get a chance to relax.) But I also had some real concerns about the negative publicity this trip might generate. After thinking it over carefully and weighing the pros and cons, I decided to go. I accepted the invitation and flew to Havana for a week-long visit.
By the time of this trip—in February of 1982—Castro had been the target of more than twenty assassination attempts, and the itinerary we received was light on details regarding when or where I might actually see him. After touching down in Havana I was taken to the Riviera Hotel for lunch with the city’s mayor, and during that short car ride I was struck by what I saw. My image of a communist state was one of tanks in the streets, soldiers with guns, people walking around with glum faces. Instead, the Cubans looked just as cheerful as anybody. They dressed in bright colors and had smiles on their faces. I knew that all my movements were being controlled carefully, but while heading to see a zoo that was under construction, our driver got lost. We were on a dirt road trying to find our way when we stopped to ask a villager for directions. I needed to go to the bathroom and the villager let me into his house to use his. When I got inside, there was a framed picture of Castro on the wall. After hearing terrible stories about poor treatment during Castro’s regime, I was surprised by this admiration from one of his countrymen.
Later that afternoon I was taken to meet Castro himself. I learned before the trip that he liked baseball, fishing, and hunting so I brought as gifts a Braves cap and some fishing gear. This resulted in some unusual-looking luggage and his concerned guards gave my belongings a thorough once-over, but once they realized I carried nothing more threatening than some rods, reels, and tackle, the mood became relaxed.
Castro’s charisma was apparent the instant he entered the room. He’s a tall man and his eyes sparkle and dance when he speaks to you. We were clearly sizing each other up but our conversation was friendly and cordial. He appreciated the gifts and put on the Braves cap, but looking at the fishing gear he explained that he was a spearfisherman. I offered him a rod and reel demonstration and before you knew it, there I was, in the halls of Castro’s palace, giving casting lessons to Fidel and his bodyguards.
When meeting someone with a completely different background and contrasting point of view, I’ve always found it helpful to start out by discussing things you have in common. In this case, we broke the ice by talking about baseball and fishing, and we developed a strong enough rapport that Castro invited me for a visit that weekend at his retreat on an island in the Bay of Pigs. There, I was able to watch him spearfish and we hunted ducks together. He was talented at both and being together in these natural settings was a great way to relax and get to know each other. As careful as those guards were that first day, when we went hunting, one of them handed me a 12-gauge automatic shotgun. I have to admit that there was a moment when I thought to myself, “Here I am, ten feet from Fidel Castro with a shotgun in my hand. I wonder how much the CIA would pay to be in this position right now?” We actually became so comfortable that during that night after dinner, when we had both had some rum and smoked cigars, our conversation turned to world affairs. At one point I leaned over and asked him, “Are you really interfering in Angola and Central America?” Castro looked me right in the eye and said, “Yes, and so are you. What makes you think that it’s okay for the U.S. to interfere there but Cuba shouldn’t?”
I said, “Because we stand for freedom and capitalism and you don’t.”
Castro replied, “So what makes you think that you’re right and we’re wrong?”
My mouth dropped open. I’d had ideological discussions with other people—McCallie and Brown University professors, for example—about the relative merits of capitalism, communism, and other systems, but these were always at a theoretical level. Now I was having this discussion face-to-face with an intelligent, articulate person who was leading a country and who was our sworn enemy. I had always been taught that ideas and opinions like his were of little value, and while he didn’t convince me that his way was right, I must confess that experiencing the depth of his convictions firsthand, and his logical objections to U.S. policies, was a powerful experience. I barely slept that night, tossing and turning as I thought about our conversation.
After this eye-opening trip I flew home with a whole new desire to understand more about other cultures and political systems and to do what I could to increase communication and dialogue between nations. With this realization, and after seeing Castro’s interest in CNN, I knew that we had a real opportunity to build an international news business. It wasn’t long before we were having meetings with leaders from all over the world and working on distribution deals to make CNN not only the first twenty-four-hour news channel but also the first global television network.
I also began to expand my thinking about the kinds of programming that we would run on the SuperStation. Beyond movies, sports, and sitcoms, I realized that we could add documentaries to our lineup. As the networks chased viewers with increasing levels of sex and violence, I liked the idea of counterprogramming with high-quality documentaries that might do some good for society. John Denver had become a friend of mine—he was great guy and a passionate advocate for the environment. He let me know that Jacques Cousteau, the legendary oceanographer, had asked him if he knew anyone in the United States who might want to be his production partner. Cousteau had worked with ABC in the past but they were no longer interested in airing his shows. He had also worked with PBS and since that relationship had also come to an end, Denver suggested he speak with me.
I greatly admired Captain Cousteau. In my mind, if you had to pick a mother of the environmental movement it would be Rachel Carson, and if you had to pick a father, it would be Jacques Cousteau. When we met we hit it off immediately and I knew that airing his programming would provide a big boost for the SuperStation. We entered into an agreement through which TBS became Cousteau’s television partner. Not only did Cousteau go on to produce some terrific shows for us, I became good friends with him and his son Jean-Michel. One of my most memorable experiences was spending a week on the Calypso with my two youngest sons, during the shooting of a seven-hour series on the Amazon. I was proud to underwrite these prestigious shows and being around the Cousteaus made me want to work that much harder to use my influence to expose more people to the important issues facing our planet.
Another important influence on me was a woman named J
. J. Ebaugh, whom I met in Newport at the 1980 America’s Cup. At that time, J. J. was dating a crewmember of one of the other boats but later we began seeing each other. J. J. was very bright—her father was a medical doctor and professor—and she had a real zest for life and for learning. She also had her pilot’s license, and around this time I bought my first small, single engine plane and J. J. became my pilot. She was passionate about issues like world population, the environment, and arms control, and we discussed these and other important matters whenever we were together. On occasion, I’d sit in the co-pilot’s seat while she flew the plane and we would discuss the important issues of the day. Over a very short period of time I developed relationships with people like Carl Sagan, Audubon Society head Russell Peterson, Lester Brown of Worldwatch, and former President Jimmy Carter. Going back to my high school debate days, I’ve enjoyed discussing topics with people who don’t necessarily share my opinions. While getting to know these people, I often engaged them in interesting and stimulating conversations.
Being exposed to these big thinkers pushed me to consider how I might use our company’s cable channels to improve the world, but there was not enough of an audience or advertiser base to fund this kind of programming. Then I thought, What if we put together a nonprofit entity, populated its board with a diverse group of world leaders, thinkers, and advocates, and produced programs paid for by the group’s own fund-raising efforts? We could then air the shows on TBS and expose them to our growing audience. In addition to producing some interesting and provocative programs, gathering such a body of people might stimulate discussion and action on issues that could make for a better world.
I decided to create a foundation and named it the Better World Society. We announced the formation of this organization at a New York press conference in 1985 and I was able to attract an incredible board of directors from around the globe. We hired Thomas Belford as our executive director and our first four board members were myself, Jean-Michel Cousteau, Russell Peterson, and Lester Brown. I wanted to be sure that we built a group that had a majority of members from outside the United States, and in addition to former President Carter, we attracted three other former heads of state—President Obesanjo from Nigeria, Gro Harlem Brundtland of Norway, and Rodrigo Carazo of Costa Rica. Also joining the board were Dr. Georgi Arbatov from the Soviet Union, Dr. M. S. Swaminathan of India, Chinese government official Zhou Boping, Yasushi Akashi from Japan, former U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees Prince Sadruddin Aga Khan from Pakistan, and from the United States, former Secretary-General of International Planned Parenthood Julia Henderson.
Our statement of purpose was straightforward:
The Better World Society is an international nonprofit membership organization dedicated to fostering individual awareness of those global issues which bear directly on the sustainability of human and other life on Earth. Beyond awareness, the Society seeks to instill in citizens of all nations a sense of common responsibility for the fate of life on Earth. As well as an understanding of the constructive actions we can take, individually and in concert, to redirect our nations toward sustainable progress and world peace. From this perspective, the society will focus chiefly on the issues of nuclear arms control and reduction, population stabilization, stewardship of the Earth’s environment, efficient use of its resources, and fulfillment of the basic human needs of the world’s peoples.
Meeting with these people was an incredible experience. I came to see those from other countries not as “foreigners,” but as fellow citizens of the planet. I began to view the word “foreign” as pejorative and created a rule within Turner Broadcasting that the word could not be used either on air or in conversation around the office. Instead, the word “international” was to be used, and while we did run into some occasions where the term was unavoidable, as in the case of certain titles, like “Secretary of Foreign Affairs” or a named prize like “Best Foreign Film,” this was a rule we took seriously and I think it helped our employees think about the world differently. (One less serious moment came during a Braves telecast shortly after I issued this policy. One of our announcers, Skip Caray, described a player stepping out of the batter’s box to “remove an international object from his eye.” Most of our audience must have wondered what he was talking about, but Turner employees who were watching got a chuckle.)
While the Better World Society featured an incredible team and we financed and aired some great programs, raising the money every year took a lot of work, mostly for me, and not once did we ever reach our budget. I can remember flying to Chicago or New York to meet with wealthy individuals or foundations, making our presentation, then flying back to Atlanta and getting a check two weeks later for $1,000. While this fund-raising was frustrating, the intellectual stimulation we received from the board was tremendous and this experience had a profound impact on me. Having spent my career using war analogies to develop business strategies and with military leaders as my heroes, I began to think more about people who made peace their life’s objective. For many years, I had the busts of Horatio Nelson and Alexander the Great in my office and I decided to replace them with busts of Gandhi and Martin Luther King. My father had raised me with a “my country right or wrong” mentality. But as I thought through issues with more of an open mind, I began to question assumptions that I took for granted when I was growing up.
When we dissolved the Better World Society after six years of operations, I remember gritting my teeth and thinking to myself that the next time I do something like this, I’ll have made enough of my own money that I won’t have to be a fund-raiser. In the meantime, there was plenty of work to do if I was ever going to make that happen.
18
The Goodwill Games
I made my first trip to the Soviet Union early in 1984. I wanted CNN to become a global business and after my Cuba trip, I was hopeful that we could do business in the Soviet Union. When the driver who picked up our group at the Moscow airport drove us by a beautiful new facility, he explained, sadly, that it had been built specifically for the 1980 Olympics, the Games that had been boycotted by the United States in protest of the Soviet Union’s war in Afghanistan. Throughout our visit it seemed like everywhere we went there was another reminder of those Olympics and the more I saw, the sadder I was that our athletes had not been able to participate. Adding to my disappointment was the fact that the Soviets were thinking about retaliating by staying home during the 1984 Olympics later that summer in Los Angeles.
The situation was depressing. There was already so much distrust and so little communication between our two countries, and now both sides were deciding that they couldn’t join each other and the rest of the world for an athletic competition. My first exposure to people from other countries was through sailing, and it occurred to me that elite athletes have more opportunities to associate with their peers from around the globe than just about anyone. When they do, despite the competition they usually get along. It’s easy to hate people you don’t know, but it’s hard to hate people once you get to know them and recognize how much you have in common. The Russian people were more like us than they were different—they loved their families, they had pets, they enjoyed ballet and classical music, and they liked having a drink of vodka with their friends. This isn’t to say that our political differences weren’t significant—they were—but I felt that we’d never bridge these differences by simply shutting down communication and avoiding international gatherings like the Olympics.
After the Soviets made it official that they would retaliate with their boycott of the Los Angeles Games, I had an idea. Why not create a competition outside the Olympics that would allow American and Soviet athletes to compete? By 1986, it would be ten years since summer athletes from the two superpowers had competed head-to-head and I felt they would be eager for the opportunity. By this time, I had hired Bob Wussler from CBS, where he’d had experience producing large-scale sporting events for television. When I explained to Bob my idea, he g
rasped it immediately, and since he knew that I wanted this event to help bring our two countries closer together, we decided to call them the Goodwill Games. We loved this name, and though the original idea was to restrict the competition just to the United States and the Soviet Union, as we thought about it, we decided to make these games as much like the Olympics as possible and to extend invitations to the best athletes from all over the world. Soviet officials embraced the idea and agreed to host the games in Moscow. We were off and running on another new and massive undertaking.
To make it work, we had to convince the various countries to send their teams, and at first the U.S. federations struggled with their decision. Their athletes were eager to participate and it became almost impossible for them to say no. For sports that don’t have professional leagues (like track and field and gymnastics) the Olympic Games were the pinnacle, and since the boycotts had kept these athletes on the sidelines, they were eager to go to Moscow. Once the U.S. federations agreed to send teams to a Soviet-hosted event, the other countries followed. (We did have one disappointment. Just prior to the games Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger told the handful of American athletes who were members of the U.S. military that they would not be allowed to participate.) The games would be held in the summer of ’86 and we would televise them on TBS SuperStation. We negotiated deals with overseas networks to help us extend our reach and sell more advertising. To differentiate the Goodwill Games from the Olympics, we did away with preliminary heats wherever possible, making more of the competitions a final contest for the medal. I didn’t get involved in the planning of athletic competitions other than making sure that yachting was included, as I never would have been able to live it down in the sailing community if it hadn’t been! Ultimately, more than three thousand athletes from seventy-nine countries competed in eighteen different sports.
