Brian Williams on NBC Nightly News
NEW YORK — Brian Williams is aware of the behind-the-scenes sniping about his succeeding Tom Brokaw on NBC Nightly News, a historic network changing of the guard that will occur Dec. 2.
Wiliams believes it's vitally important for reporters to get out of New York and Washington in order to do their jobs well.
NBC
He knows that some critics think he's no Brokaw, that behind his tanned, handsome face and well-cut suits is something of a lightweight. He has heard that there are those at NBC News who think that the Nightly franchise, which nets a cool $90 million a year, could lose steam with him at the helm.
"It's the ultimate subjective business," says Williams, 45. "We put ourselves on the line and say, 'Please invite us into your home,' and everyone is free to have at it. That's one of the great things about a democracy. People are completely entitled to their opinions, and I go home after the broadcast and go to sleep at night. My wife and children seem to like me quite a bit, and as long as that is true — people find this amazing — I'm really OK."
But perhaps to dispel another idea that some people have — that this college dropout is a bit of a snob — Williams picks a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint, linoleum tables and all, to meet for lunch.
He swears it's the best pizza in town as he wolfs down two slices, chased by a can of Pepsi. He also may be showing off a bit: He points to his framed photo on a wall, next to one of John Spencer of The West Wing fame.
After spending much of the past year on the road, Williams says, his game plan as anchor of the No. 1-rated U.S. newscast is simple.
"I've got to get out a lot," he says. "The New York-Washington axis can be a journalist's worst enemy. Stories have a funny way of sneaking up on you, and the American people have a funny way of deciding what their reality is. You've got to spend a night in Dayton and Toledo and Cincinnati and Denver and in the middle of Kansas."
An example of the kind of story Williams likes to report came this fall when he flew to Dundee, Mich., to take the pulse at Cabela's, the popular hunting and fishing mail-order house whose megastores draw 4 million customers a year.
Williams reported — presciently in light of President Bush's re-election — that Cabela's customers were a force to be reckoned with: God-fearing conservatives who like guns, fishing and the outdoors, and that in 2000, "six in 10 gun owners voted for President Bush."
One hunter, a young woman, told Williams in a checkout line that she had already picked the tree she'd shoot from when deer season opens.
Recalling that day, Williams says: "I own an air rifle, mostly to scare the deer in our backyard, but I wanted to go back to our newsroom and say, 'Guys, this is who you don't know. While we haven't been watching, this is what America has become.' Not to pander, not to customize the news, but a newscast that forgets what its audience has become and takes its eye off the ball in terms of what America is, is doomed to failure."
A different role
There is nothing wrong with reporting feature stories from the heartland, says network news analyst Andrew Tyndall — unless you are about to inherit the most powerful anchor chair in the country.
In that role, Tyndall says, millions of viewers look to you to synthesize crucial public policy issues with state, national and world leaders, not to shoot the breeze in barbershops or, while reporting on Hurricane Isabel in September 2003, to see how Nemo the clown fish fared at a pet store in Virginia Beach.
"Williams going for 'vox pop' stories is like saying Charles Kuralt will replace Walter Cronkite," Tyndall says, referring to the late CBS "On the Road" essayist.
But Williams has a different take on the role of the modern network news anchor. "When I land in a foreign place — let's take Tel Aviv — if I'm traveling with a cameraman, and he says, 'Look, have you ever seen so much barbed wire?' I say, 'Shoot it.' We are surrogates for our audience. We are representing them back home, and I try to keep that eye wherever I am."
In the past week, Williams has been reporting from Israel on the effect that Yasser Arafat's fading medical condition has had on the volatile situation there.
Instead of the obvious network anchor move, a sit-down with Israeli leader Ariel Sharon, Williams has checked in with Palestinians in a coffeehouse in Ramallah about a future without Arafat and with bus riders in Jerusalem about the specter of being blown up by a suicide bomb.
That's vintage Williams, says Steve Capus, Nightly's producer, who has known Williams since the '80s, when they were both in local news in Philadelphia. Williams' strength, Capus says, is connecting with ordinary people. And at a time when many Americans think the media are out of touch, Williams' reporting style may appeal to them.
"Sure, it's not the same as sitting down with Sharon, but in many ways Brian's stories convey the overall bigger-picture story," Capus says. "And if his experience can be used to relate a bigger story, then that's what we're going to do."
Williams' "biggest hurdle is that he's going to have to make this broadcast his own," Capus says. "This is now Tom's broadcast, and Brian has a different style and to some degree different sensibilities. It's going to take some time for him to hit his stride."
Brokaw has urged Williams to put his own stamp on Nightly, just as Brokaw did with stories about the environment and World War II veterans.To that end, viewers can expect stories on the presidency, the subject of a book that Williams is writing. They also can expect to continue to see Brokaw frequently, starting with Bush's inauguration. "I'd like Tom to file whatever is on his mind. I owe him everything," Williams says.
And in his spare time ...
Williams has more plebian interests than his soon-to-be rivals, CBS' Dan Rather, 73, a friend from CBS days, and ABC's Peter Jennings, 66.
A onetime volunteer firefighter, Williams talks excitedly about the prospect of handling hoses and climbing ladders again on an upcoming story. He has been a stock-car racing fan since childhood days at the Chemung Speedrome near Elmira, N.Y., and is part owner of a dirt-track stock car team.
"No one understands this NASCAR nation more than Brian," says NBC president Jeff Zucker, who once produced Nightly News for Brokaw.
Zucker admits to some apprehension around NBC about the upcoming switch, but he attributes the butterflies not to concern about Williams' abilities, but to the fact that there hasn't been an anchor change since Brokaw and Jennings were both named anchors in 1983.
Zucker notes that every time Williams has subbed for Brokaw, even for long periods of time, Nightly's eight-year No. 1 rank has held.
But critics point out that's because Brokaw's fans always knew he would return. They point out that on CNBC's The News With Brian Williams, its anchor failed to move the needle much — one reason why rival anchors see the upcoming switch as an opportunity.
Viewers of both morning and evening news shows are intensely loyal and won't shop around unless there's a reason to. Now they have one, says Jim Murphy, who produces Rather on The CBS Evening News. "Any change is good for competition."
But Murphy notes that NBC has a strong news operation that will be tough to topple, especially with a pro like Williams in the anchor chair.
Friendly competition
Williams "is clearly skilled," says Jennings, but he has no plans to change anything about World News now that he'll have new anchor competition.
Jennings predicts that just as he, Brokaw and Rather all have had areas of interest in which they excelled, so too will Williams. Watching Williams in Israel this past week, Jennings says, he smiled and thought, "Oh, boy, been there, done that."
On air, Williams' delivery can be a bit formal, which Williams attributes to "a couple of years of Catholic schooling." He's on his best behavior, he says, as if he were a guest for the first time in someone's home.
"I tend to think this is important business we're conducting," he says, very seriously. "Since 9/11, I can't remember a broadcast with a light moment, so that's how I defend it."
But off air, Williams is a cutup, known for his one-liners and practical jokes.
Murphy says that back in the '80s, on his last day at WCBS-TV, a phone call from Williams had Murphy thinking for a few seconds that it really was President Reagan calling to wish him well.
"Back then, there was nobody more fun to be around," Murphy says, an opinion that is seconded today by many NBC colleagues. "He's just a good guy to be around."
(Thank You USA TODAY)
Wiliams believes it's vitally important for reporters to get out of New York and Washington in order to do their jobs well.
NBC
He knows that some critics think he's no Brokaw, that behind his tanned, handsome face and well-cut suits is something of a lightweight. He has heard that there are those at NBC News who think that the Nightly franchise, which nets a cool $90 million a year, could lose steam with him at the helm.
"It's the ultimate subjective business," says Williams, 45. "We put ourselves on the line and say, 'Please invite us into your home,' and everyone is free to have at it. That's one of the great things about a democracy. People are completely entitled to their opinions, and I go home after the broadcast and go to sleep at night. My wife and children seem to like me quite a bit, and as long as that is true — people find this amazing — I'm really OK."
But perhaps to dispel another idea that some people have — that this college dropout is a bit of a snob — Williams picks a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint, linoleum tables and all, to meet for lunch.
He swears it's the best pizza in town as he wolfs down two slices, chased by a can of Pepsi. He also may be showing off a bit: He points to his framed photo on a wall, next to one of John Spencer of The West Wing fame.
After spending much of the past year on the road, Williams says, his game plan as anchor of the No. 1-rated U.S. newscast is simple.
"I've got to get out a lot," he says. "The New York-Washington axis can be a journalist's worst enemy. Stories have a funny way of sneaking up on you, and the American people have a funny way of deciding what their reality is. You've got to spend a night in Dayton and Toledo and Cincinnati and Denver and in the middle of Kansas."
An example of the kind of story Williams likes to report came this fall when he flew to Dundee, Mich., to take the pulse at Cabela's, the popular hunting and fishing mail-order house whose megastores draw 4 million customers a year.
Williams reported — presciently in light of President Bush's re-election — that Cabela's customers were a force to be reckoned with: God-fearing conservatives who like guns, fishing and the outdoors, and that in 2000, "six in 10 gun owners voted for President Bush."
One hunter, a young woman, told Williams in a checkout line that she had already picked the tree she'd shoot from when deer season opens.
Recalling that day, Williams says: "I own an air rifle, mostly to scare the deer in our backyard, but I wanted to go back to our newsroom and say, 'Guys, this is who you don't know. While we haven't been watching, this is what America has become.' Not to pander, not to customize the news, but a newscast that forgets what its audience has become and takes its eye off the ball in terms of what America is, is doomed to failure."
A different role
There is nothing wrong with reporting feature stories from the heartland, says network news analyst Andrew Tyndall — unless you are about to inherit the most powerful anchor chair in the country.
In that role, Tyndall says, millions of viewers look to you to synthesize crucial public policy issues with state, national and world leaders, not to shoot the breeze in barbershops or, while reporting on Hurricane Isabel in September 2003, to see how Nemo the clown fish fared at a pet store in Virginia Beach.
"Williams going for 'vox pop' stories is like saying Charles Kuralt will replace Walter Cronkite," Tyndall says, referring to the late CBS "On the Road" essayist.
But Williams has a different take on the role of the modern network news anchor. "When I land in a foreign place — let's take Tel Aviv — if I'm traveling with a cameraman, and he says, 'Look, have you ever seen so much barbed wire?' I say, 'Shoot it.' We are surrogates for our audience. We are representing them back home, and I try to keep that eye wherever I am."
In the past week, Williams has been reporting from Israel on the effect that Yasser Arafat's fading medical condition has had on the volatile situation there.
Instead of the obvious network anchor move, a sit-down with Israeli leader Ariel Sharon, Williams has checked in with Palestinians in a coffeehouse in Ramallah about a future without Arafat and with bus riders in Jerusalem about the specter of being blown up by a suicide bomb.
That's vintage Williams, says Steve Capus, Nightly's producer, who has known Williams since the '80s, when they were both in local news in Philadelphia. Williams' strength, Capus says, is connecting with ordinary people. And at a time when many Americans think the media are out of touch, Williams' reporting style may appeal to them.
"Sure, it's not the same as sitting down with Sharon, but in many ways Brian's stories convey the overall bigger-picture story," Capus says. "And if his experience can be used to relate a bigger story, then that's what we're going to do."
Williams' "biggest hurdle is that he's going to have to make this broadcast his own," Capus says. "This is now Tom's broadcast, and Brian has a different style and to some degree different sensibilities. It's going to take some time for him to hit his stride."
Brokaw has urged Williams to put his own stamp on Nightly, just as Brokaw did with stories about the environment and World War II veterans.To that end, viewers can expect stories on the presidency, the subject of a book that Williams is writing. They also can expect to continue to see Brokaw frequently, starting with Bush's inauguration. "I'd like Tom to file whatever is on his mind. I owe him everything," Williams says.
And in his spare time ...
Williams has more plebian interests than his soon-to-be rivals, CBS' Dan Rather, 73, a friend from CBS days, and ABC's Peter Jennings, 66.
A onetime volunteer firefighter, Williams talks excitedly about the prospect of handling hoses and climbing ladders again on an upcoming story. He has been a stock-car racing fan since childhood days at the Chemung Speedrome near Elmira, N.Y., and is part owner of a dirt-track stock car team.
"No one understands this NASCAR nation more than Brian," says NBC president Jeff Zucker, who once produced Nightly News for Brokaw.
Zucker admits to some apprehension around NBC about the upcoming switch, but he attributes the butterflies not to concern about Williams' abilities, but to the fact that there hasn't been an anchor change since Brokaw and Jennings were both named anchors in 1983.
Zucker notes that every time Williams has subbed for Brokaw, even for long periods of time, Nightly's eight-year No. 1 rank has held.
But critics point out that's because Brokaw's fans always knew he would return. They point out that on CNBC's The News With Brian Williams, its anchor failed to move the needle much — one reason why rival anchors see the upcoming switch as an opportunity.
Viewers of both morning and evening news shows are intensely loyal and won't shop around unless there's a reason to. Now they have one, says Jim Murphy, who produces Rather on The CBS Evening News. "Any change is good for competition."
But Murphy notes that NBC has a strong news operation that will be tough to topple, especially with a pro like Williams in the anchor chair.
Friendly competition
Williams "is clearly skilled," says Jennings, but he has no plans to change anything about World News now that he'll have new anchor competition.
Jennings predicts that just as he, Brokaw and Rather all have had areas of interest in which they excelled, so too will Williams. Watching Williams in Israel this past week, Jennings says, he smiled and thought, "Oh, boy, been there, done that."
On air, Williams' delivery can be a bit formal, which Williams attributes to "a couple of years of Catholic schooling." He's on his best behavior, he says, as if he were a guest for the first time in someone's home.
"I tend to think this is important business we're conducting," he says, very seriously. "Since 9/11, I can't remember a broadcast with a light moment, so that's how I defend it."
But off air, Williams is a cutup, known for his one-liners and practical jokes.
Murphy says that back in the '80s, on his last day at WCBS-TV, a phone call from Williams had Murphy thinking for a few seconds that it really was President Reagan calling to wish him well.
"Back then, there was nobody more fun to be around," Murphy says, an opinion that is seconded today by many NBC colleagues. "He's just a good guy to be around."
(Thank You USA TODAY)
posted by Scott Fish at 10:09 PM
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