Evening News

by Arthur Hailey

  Within the next fifteen minutes, ABC, NBC and CBS all carried bulletins including short segments of the Jessica tape. Fuller details were promised on the networks' news programs next day, with more bulletins if needed. CNN, with a news broadcast in progress, simply inserted the story and was ahead of everyone else. Chippingham stayed with his original decision not to interrupt present programming, but to release at midnight a carefully constructed bulletin, now being prepared.

  At 11:45 he left his office for the Horseshoe, which had been activated for the occasion. Norm Jaeger was occupying the executive producer's chair. Iris Everly, in an editing room, was working with the tape of Jessica as well as others to be used for background. Don Kettering, who would anchor the special midnight news, was in makeup, at the same time reading over and amending a draft script.

  ”We'll just be telling it straight,” Jaeger told Chippingham, "with no CBA reaction at all. We figure there's plenty of time for that later—whatever you want it to be. Incidentally, everyone else including the Times and Post has been phoning, asking for reactions. We've told them all we don't have any and the subject is simply being considered.”

  Chippingham nodded approval.”Good.”

  Jaeger gestured to Karl Owens, seated across the Horseshoe.”He has an idea, though, about what a reaction might be.”

  “I'd like to hear.”

  Owens, the workhorse, plodding, junior producer who had already come up with a series of ideas and whose painstaking probing had identified the terrorist as Ulises Rodriguez, consulted notes on a four-by-six card, his standard data bank.

  ”We were told in the Sendero Luminoso document that five tape cassettes, intended to replace our National Evening News, will be delivered to CBA—the first on Thursday of next week, the others following day by day. Unlike the tape of Mrs. Sloane which we watched tonight, those tapes will apparently be delivered to CBA only.”

  "I know all that,” Chippingham said.

  Jaeger smiled as Owens continued at his own pace, unperturbed.”What I'm suggesting is that we continue to hold off disclosing any CBA reaction until Tuesday. Except that on Monday, to keep interest alive, you could say there'll be an announcement the following day. Then on Tuesday that announcement would be: No further comment until we receive the tape promised for Thursday, and after that we'll make our decision known.”

  "Where does all that get us?”

  "It gets us to Thursday, six days from now. Then let's assume the Sendero tape comes in.”

  "Okay, so it's in. What then?”

  "We put it in a safe where no one can get to it, and right away go on the air—breaking into programming, generally making a big fuss—saying we've received the tape, but it's defective. It must have got damaged on the way; most of the content got wiped out. We tried to play it, then fix it, but we can't. As well as putting all that on TV, we'll feed it to the press and wire services, making sure the message is repeated to Peru, so it gets back to Sendero Luminoso.”

  "I think I follow your reasoning,” Chippingham said.”But tell me anyway.”

  "The Sendero gang won't know whether we're lying or not. What they will know—just as we do—is that that kind of thing can happen. So maybe they'll give us the benefit of doubt and send another tape, which could take several days . . .”

  Chippingham finished the sentence for him.”. . . and would mean we couldn't possibly start their broadcasts on the day they specified.”

  "Exactly.”

  Jaeger added, "I guess Karl would get to this eventually, Les. But what he's saying is we'll have gained several extra days' reprieve—if it works, and it just might. What do you think?”

  Chippingham said, "I think it's brilliant. It makes me glad we got the nitty-gritty shifted back to news.”

  * * *

  Throughout the weekend the news about Sendero Luminoso's demands and the videotape of Jessica stayed prominently in the news, with growing interest around the world. Calls flooded in to CBA requesting some comment from the network, preferably in the form of an official statement. By arrangement, all such calls were routed to CBA News. Other CDA executives and managers were advised not to respond to questions on the subject, even off the record.

  At CBA News three secretaries, summoned for special weekend work, handled the calls. In every case their response to questions was the same: CBA had no comment and, no, it was not possible to say when a comment would be made.

  The absence of a CBA reaction, however, did not stop others from expressing opinions. A majority view seemed to be, Hold the line! Don't give in!

  A surprising number, though, saw no harm in the kidnappers' demands being met as a price of the prisoners' release, prompting Norm Jaeger to comment in disgust, "Can't those birdbrains grasp the principles involved? Don't they see that by creating a precedent we'd invite every lunatic group in the world to kidnap television people?”

  On the Sunday TV talk shows "Face the Nation ... .. Meet the Press” and "This Week with David Brinkley,” the subject was debated and extracts from Crawford Sloane's book The Camera and the Truth, read aloud, particularly:

  Hostages . . . should be regarded as expendable.

  The only way to deal with terrorists is . . . not striking bargains or paying ransom, directly or indirectly, ever!

  Within CBA, those who had promised Les Chippingham to keep secret the ultimate decision not to accept Sendero Luminoso's terms appeared to have kept their word. In fact, the only one to break it was Margot Lloyd-Mason who, on Sunday, advised Theodore Elliott by telephone of everything that had transpired the night before.

  No doubt Margot would have argued she was acting correctly in keeping the Globanic chairman informed. Unfortunately, right or wrong, her action paved the way for a devastating leak.

  5

  Globanic Industries World Headquarters occupied a mansion style office complex set in its own private park at Pleasantville, New York, some thirty miles outside Manhattan. The intent in choosing that locale had been to remove high-level thinking and policy making from the daily pressure-cooker atmosphere of Globanic subsidiaries in industrial or financial areas. Globanic Financial, for example, which was managing the Peru debt-to-equity deal, occupied three floors of One World Trade Center in the Wall Street area.

  In reality, however, many ancillary matters affecting Globanic outposts spilled into the Pleasantville headquarters. This was why, at 10 A.M. on Monday morning, Glen Dawson, a preppy young reporter for the Baltimore Star, was waiting to interview Globanic's chief comptroller on the subject of palladium. Currently the precious metal was in the news and a Globanic company owned mines producing palladium and platinum in Minas Gerais, Brazil, where labor riots were threatening supplies.

  Dawson waited outside the comptroller's office in an elegant circular lounge which gave access to the suites of two other high Globanic officers, one of them the conglomerate's chairman and CEO.

  The reporter, seated in an inconspicuous comer, was still waiting when one of the other office doors opened and two figures emerged. One was Theodore Elliott whom Dawson recognized instantly from photographs he had seen. The face of the other man was familiar, though Dawson couldn't place it. The two were continuing a conversation begun inside, the second man speaking.

  ”. . . been hearing about your CBA. Those threats from the Peru rebels put you in a difficult spot.”

  The Globanic chairman nodded.”In one way, yes . . . carry on, I'll walk you to the elevator . . . We've made a decision, though it hasn't been announced. What we're not going to do is let a bunch of crazy Commies push us around.”

  "So CBA won't cancel their evening news?”

  "Absolutely not! As for running those Shining Path tapes, not a hope in hell . . .”

  The voices faded.

  Using a magazine he had been glancing through as cover for a notepad, Glen Dawson quickly scribbled the exact words he had heard. His pulse was racing. He knew he had exclusive information which countless other journalists had been
seeking unsuccessfully since Saturday night.

  ”Mr. Dawson,” a receptionist called over, "Mr. Licata will see you now.”

  On his way past her desk, he stopped and smiled.”That other gentleman with Mr. Elliott—I'm sure I've met him, but couldn't place his face.”

  The receptionist hesitated; he sensed her disapproval and renewed the smile.

  It worked.”It was Mr. Alden Rhodes, the Under Secretary of State.”

  "Of course! How could I forget?”

  Dawson had seen the Under Secretary of State for Economic Affairs once before—on television, appearing before a House committee. But all that mattered at this moment was that he had the name.

  The interview with Globanic's comptroller seemed endless to Dawson, though he tried to conclude it as quickly as he could. The subject of palladium had not interested him much, anyway; he was an ambitious young man who wanted to write on subjects of wide interest, and what he had stumbled on seemed a timely ticket to a more exciting future. The comptroller, however, was unhurried in describing the history and future of palladium. He dismissed the labor unrest in Brazil as temporary and unlikely to affect supplies, which was what Dawson had principally come to find out. At length, pleading a deadline, the reporter made his escape.

  Checking his watch, he decided he had time to drive to the Baltimore Star's Manhattan bureau, write both stories there, and still make the paper's main afternoon edition. Driving fast, mentally stringing words and sentences together as the miles flew by, he headed south on Saw Mill River Parkway, then Interstate 87.

  * * *

  Seated at a computer terminal in the bureau's modest office at Rockefeller Plaza, Glen Dawson quickly wrote the palladium story first. It was what he had been sent to do and an original obligation was now decently fulfilled.

  He then began the more exciting second story. His first report had gone to the financial desk and, since he was assigned there, so would the second. He was certain, though, it would not remain at financial for very long.

  His fingers danced over the keyboard, composing a lead.

  As he did, Dawson wondered about an ethical question which he knew would have to be asked and answered soon: Would publication of the information he was now writing place the kidnap victims in Peru in greater peril than they were already?

  More specifically: Would the Sloane family hostages be harmed by revelation of the CBA network decision to reject the demands of Sendero Luminoso, a decision which obviously, at this point, was not intended to be disclosed?

  Or, on the other hand, was the public entitled to know whatever an enterprising reporter like himself was able to find out, no matter how the information was obtained?

  Though such questions existed, the plain fact was, Dawson knew, they were none of his business or concern. The rules in the matter were precise and known to all parties involved.

  A reporter's responsibility was to write any worthwhile story he found. If he discovered news, his job was not to suppress or modify it in any way, but to write a full and accurate report, then deliver it to the organization that employed him.

  At that point what had been written would go to an editor. It was the editor, or editors, who must consider ethics.

  In Baltimore, Dawson thought, where his story would be printing out at another computer terminal, that was probably happening right now.

  As he concluded, he pressed a key to get a local printout for himself. However, another hand reached out and got the printout first.

  It was the bureau chief, Sandy Sefton, who had just come in. A veteran general reporter, Sefton was a few years from retirement and he and Dawson were good friends. As he read the printout, the bureau chief whistled softly, then looked up.

  ”You got a hot one all right. Those words of Elliott's—did you write them down right when he said them?”

  "Within seconds.” Dawson showed the older man his notes.

  ”Good! Have you talked to this other guy, Alden Rhodes?”

  Dawson shook his head.

  ”Baltimore will probably want you to.”A telephone rang.”Want to bet that's Baltimore now?”

  It was. Sefton took the call, listened briefly, then said, "My boy's gonna lead the paper tonight, right?”

  He grinned as he passed the phone to Dawson.”It's Frazer.”

  J. Allardyce Frazer was executive editor. He wasted no time, his voice authoritative.”You haven't spoken to Theodore Elliott directly yet. Correct?”

  "Correct, Mr. Frazer.”

  "Do it. Tell him what you have and ask if he has a comment. If he denies saying it, report that too. If he does deny, try for a confirmation from Alden Rhodes. You know the kind of question to ask?”

  "I think so.”

  "Let me talk to Sandy.”

  The bureau chief took the phone. He winked at Dawson while he listened, then said, "I've seen Glen's notes. He wrote Elliott's words on the spot. They're clear. No chance of a misunderstanding.”

  Replacing the phone, Sefton told Dawson.”You're not home free yet; they're debating ethics. You carry on with Elliott. I'll try to locate Rhodes; he can't have got back to Washington.” Sefton crossed the room to use another phone.

  Dawson tapped out Globanic's number. After going through a switchboard, a woman's voice answered. The reporter identified himself and asked for "Mr. Theodore Elliott.”

  "Mr. Elliott is not available now,” the voice said pleasantly.”I'm Mrs. Kessler. Is there something I can do?”

  "Perhaps.” Dawson carefully explained why he had called.

  The voice became cool.”Wait, please.”

  Several minutes passed. Dawson was about to hang up and call again when the connection came alive. This time the voice was frigid.”Mr. Elliott advises that whatever you think you heard was confidential and may not be used.”

  "I'm a reporter,” Dawson said.”If I hear or learn something and it wasn't told to me confidentially, I'm entitled to use it.”

  “Mr. Dawson, I see no point in prolonging this conversation.”

  "Just a moment, please. Does Mr. Elliott deny having used the words I read to you?”

  "Mr. Elliott has no further comment.”

  Dawson wrote down the question and answer, as he had the previous exchange.”Mrs. Kessler, do you mind telling me your first name?”

  "There is no reason to . . . well, Diana.”

  Dawson smiled, guessing Kessler had reasoned that if her name was to appear in print, it might as well be in full. About to say thank you, he realized the connection had been severed.

  As he replaced the phone, the bureau chief handed him a slip of paper.”Rhodes is on his way to La Guardia in a State Department car. Here's the number of the car phone.”

  Dawson lifted his phone again.

  This time, after a ringing tone, a male voice answered. When Dawson asked for "Mr. Alden Rhodes,” the response was, "This is he.”

  Again the reporter identified himself, aware that Sandy Sefton was listening on an extension.

  ”Mr. Rhodes, my paper would like to know if you have any comment on Mr. Theodore Elliott's statement that CBA network will reject the recent Sendero Luminoso, demands and, in Mr. Elliott's words, 'we're not going to let a bunch of crazy Commies push us around.”

  "Theo Elliott told you that!”

  “I heard him say it personally, Mr. Rhodes.”

  "I thought he wanted it kept confidential.” A pause.”Now wait a minute! Were you sitting in that hall when we walked through?”

  "Yes, I was.”

  "Dawson, you've tricked me and I insist this entire conversation be off the record.”

  "Mr. Rhodes, before we began talking I identified myself and you did not say anything about being off the record.”

  "Fuck you, Dawson!”

  "That last was off the record, sir. By then you'd told me.”

  The bureau chief, grinning, gave a thumbs-up signal.

  * * *

  The ethical debate in Baltimore did not last long.
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  In any news organization there always existed a predilection toward disclosure. However, with some news stories—and this was one—certain questions needed to be asked and answered. The executive editor and national editor, who would oversee the story, posed them to each other.

  QUESTION: Would publication of CBA's decision imperil the hostages?

  ANSWER: The hostages were in peril already; it was hard to see how publication of anything could make much difference.

  QUESTION: Would anyone be killed because of publication?

  ANSWER: Unlikely because a dead hostage would cease to be of value.

  QUESTION: Since CBA would have to make its decision known in a day or two, what difference would it make to be a little early?

  ANSWER: Not much, if any.

  QUESTION: Since Globanic's Theo Elliott revealed the CBA decision casually and others must know of it, was it likely to stay secret much longer?

  ANSWER: Almost certainly no. At the end, the executive editor expressed the conclusion of both: "There isn't an ethical problem. We go!”

  The story led the Baltimore Star's main afternoon edition with a banner headline:

  CBA SAYS NO TO SLOANE KIDNAPPERS

  Glen Dawson's by-line story began:

  CBA will say an emphatic "No” to demands by the Sloane family's kidnappers that it cancel its televised National Evening News for a week, replacing it with propaganda videotapes supplied by the Peru Maoist rebel group Sendero Luminoso.

  Sendero Luminoso, or Shining Path, has admitted holding the kidnap victims at a secret location in Peru.

  Theodore Elliott, chairman and chief executive officer of Globanic Industries, the parent company of CBA, declared today, "What we're not going to do is let a bunch of crazy Commies push us around “

  Speaking at Globanic's headquarters at Pleasantville, New York, he added, "As for running those Shining Path tapes, not a hope in hell.”

  A Star reporter was present during the Elliott statement.

  Alden Rhodes, Under Secretary of State for Economic Affairs, who was with Mr Elliott when the statement was made, declined to comment when questioned by the Star, though he did say, "I thought he wanted it kept confidential.“