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KPTV Channel 12 runs only one evening newscast:
at 10 pm.
The
Project for Excellence in Journalism has done an analysis
of what makes up a good local newscast. It's on the Internet
at www.journalism.org
/whatgood.html
KOIN
news directer Kerry Oslund has taken his station from a
limp-along third to a contender for the ratings crown.
Other
anchor teams: Tracy Barry and Joe Donlen anchor the 5 pm
news on KGW; at KATU, it's the newcomers who ultimately
replaced Emry and Gianola: husband and wife John Marler
and Cathy Marshall.
No,
that's not real brick on the KOIN set.
KOIN
has an exclusive two-year contract to advertise on 41 of
the 43 new MAX trains.
Next
year KPDX, the local FOX affiliate, will open a new studio
and begin producing its own local news shows. Currently,
KOIN provides news to KPDX.
Former
anchor Julie Emry says the thing she misses least is having
to make every day a perfect hair day.
KGW-TV
news director Rod Gramer says his old-fashioned journalism
will prevail over KOIN's gimmickry in this month's run for
the
ratings.
In last
November's sweeps, at 5 pm KOIN came in first in the number
of total households, followed by KGW and KATU. But numbers
can be deceiving. KGW took the highest number of 25-to-54-year-olds,
who bring in the big bucks from advertisers.
Each
Neilsen point represents about 10,000 Portland households.
A "share" is the percentage of people at any given time
who are watching television. If you added up all the share
numbers, they would equal 100.
Lars
Larson's The Buzz, which airs at 6 am every day on
KOIN, has been a ratings disappointment. Larson is hopeful
that Bryant Gumbel's return to morning television with CBS's
The Early Show, which premieres Nov. 1 at 7 am, will
give his ratings a boost.
KOIN-TV
is owned by Lee Broadcasting Co. of Davenport, Iowa, a media
consortium that owns nine other TV stations, 22 daily newspapers
and 75 weekly and specialty publications.
KGW-TV
is owned by A.H. Belo, a Dallas company that also owns 17
TV
stations and a number of newspapers, including the Dallas
Morning News.
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Anticipation:
how the weather report drives the local news
It's 4:58 pm on Friday. Shirley Hancock checks her makeup
in a compact mirror, then snaps it shut. Next to her in KOIN-TV's
news studio is her co-anchor, Jeff Gianola.
One flight above them, producer Tiffany Mueller is watching
the dozens of television screens that line the wall in front
of her. Mueller is closely monitoring three screens that
show what the local network affiliates are broadcasting
so she will know when to cut to the news.
Behind her stands Kerry Oslund, KOIN's news director at
the CBS affiliate. "The key," he says excitedly, "is to
be first out of Maury, Oprah and O'Donnell."
Suddenly Mueller warns Hancock and Gianola through their
headsets, "We're going way early." Hancock nods, and the
anchors wait for the cue.
As Maury Povich begins his closing remarks, Mueller is
poised. As soon as he's finished, she gives the signal to
go.
Hancock comes to life. "Good evening, everyone..."
Oslund nods in approval: They made it on the air before
KGW and KATU. Why is that important? As channel surfers
started stirring, Oslund explains, they'd find KOIN news
under way while the other stations are still rolling credits.
Oslund's day is made up of hundreds of such competitions,
and in this one, he came in first. Being first is everything
in television, even if it's just by a few seconds.
Television news--it sucks, right? It's vapid yet sensationalistic,
dazzling yet monochromatic. But each night, television news
enters the homes of some quarter-million Portland metro-area
viewers. What's more, the majority of Americans use television
as their main news source. Whether it's weather, traffic
or what's happening in Salem, Portlanders depend on the
happy faces in the glowing box.
Most of the time local television news is predictable,
comfortable and consistent. But four times a year, the television
industry goes into its own version of carnival, and this
week the music is starting to rise. Hang on to your couches,
fellow potatoes, we're about to enter sweeps--the 28-day
Nielsen ratings period, otherwise known as "the book," that
will set advertising rates for the local affiliates for
the next quarter.
Love it or hate it, the competition between local TV stations
for viewers says a good deal about the state of journalism:
the cult of personality, the lack of interest in policy,
the eroding wall between commercial concerns and journalistic
ones and, finally, the importance of dogs.
More on that...after this.
Portlanders are all too familiar with the TV-news stations'
rating-grabbing antics over the past few years: Infrared
cameras, satellite trucks, high-tech weather gear and, of
course, the helicopters. More important than all this hardware,
however, is the human touch. And the best way to viewers'
hearts is through the anchor.
There is no media relationship more personal than that
between viewers and local television anchors. While critics
may say they're nothing more than talking heads, anchors
are crucial to a local news station's success. That's why
their faces are plastered everywhere in town--from billboards
to bus stops.
"They're called anchors," says Jim Upshaw, professor of
broadcast journalism at University of Oregon, "because they're
supposed to be the rock to which our attention returns between
news stories."
We celebrate their marriages and pregnancies. We suffer
through their illnesses and bad haircuts. Their chat between
stories signals whether we should feel outraged, frightened,
encouraged or inspired by their video offerings. And if
we like them, we'll come back to see them every single day.
Like KOIN's Jeff Gianola.
Gianola, 44, has been in the Portland news business for
16 years. He grew up in San Diego and came to KATU in 1983
from a stint at a Santa Barbara, Calif., station where he
was the general-assignment reporter. After doing the weather
and morning anchoring at KATU for a few years, he was moved
to evening anchor in 1985.
When people describe Gianola, they say he's just an average
nice guy who says hello to strangers on the street and is
nice to children and old people.
Julie Emry, his partner at the anchor desk at to KATU for
13 years, says, "He's just extremely real, there's nothing
phony about him."
Gianola does seem to express genuine concern. Last week,
KOIN did a story about a person the police call "Diaper
Man," who gets his ya-yas by pretending to be developmentally
disabled in order to hire unsuspecting caregivers to change
his diapers. In describing Diaper Man's fetish, Gianola
looked viewers in the eyes and paused just so before saying
the word "masturbate." It was a perfect blend of sincerity
and sensationalism--the sort of skill that prompts news
director Oslund to say that what Gianola has cannot be taught
and cannot be bottled.
"I have no idea why Jeff Gianola is so popular," he says.
"He's not the most handsome guy in the market. It's more
this instant feeling that he'd be a good guy to go have
beers with. And you know what? He is."
For 15 years, Gianola stayed at KATU. In addition to his
anchor role, he hosted the public-affairs show Town Hall
and created a popular feature, "Wednesday's Child," in which
he highlighted each week a kid who needed an adoptive home.
Then things went sour between KATU and Gianola. He was
put on a three-day suspension last November during sweeps
for blowing up at a staffer. The word was that Gianola was
getting out of control.
Emry, who left the news business last spring, scoffs at
that. "I think it is so ridiculous, the temper thing. He
is a very Italian personality...he may blow up, but he will
be the first person to come back and say 'I'm sorry.'"
Gianola says he suspects KATU wanted him out, perhaps because
he was the highest-paid talent in an increasingly cost-conscious
environment.
"I had given them my blood and sweat," Gianola says, "but
they devalue people when your contract is coming up. I think
I left there with my head held up pretty high, but I would
have loved to have spent the rest of my career at KATU."
In August 1998, Gianola moved over to KOIN television,
for what he says was less money but a better contract. Oslund
was ecstatic--KOIN's research had been saying that Gianola
was the most popular anchor in the market. He put Gianola
on at 5 o'clock, pushing aside long-time anchor Mike Donahue,
who is now reporting and anchoring only the 6 o'clock news.
In July 1998, pre-Gianola, KOIN was tied for last place
with a 7.1 rating at 5 o'clock--KATU had an 8.2 rating.
In September, the month after Gianola moved, KOIN had jumped
to 7.6, and KATU was in last place at 7.4.
When an anchor moves, it's common for the losing station
to experience an initial drop in ratings. But KATU has bounced
back, and today the 5 o'clock race is basically anyone's
call. KATU remains No. 1 at 11. KATU news director Gary
Walker says, "This is a three-way race both for households
overall and for demographics."
Gianola's hiring was the final move of KOIN's three-year
push to get out of last place. According to Oslund, after
KOIN was creamed in the ratings during the flood of 1996,
parent company Lee Enterprises spent millions of dollars
to update the station--from building a new set to buying
a helicopter.
"I like to tell people: We are NASA, we had built the rocket--and
with Jeff, we found the right astronaut to strap on to the
front," Oslund says.
If Gianola is the astronaut, Kerry Oslund is ground control.
A large man with a resemblance to Jay Leno, Oslund is a
Gresham-grown hometown boy who came back to the neighborhood
to work for KOIN 3 1/2 years ago.
Oslund, 38, practically grew up in television. He's been
in the business since he was an 18-year-old intern at the
University of Arizona. He has won four Emmys and says he
has directed news coverage for everything from the Rodney
King riots in Los Angeles to the war in Somalia.
Oslund is an intense, rapid-fire quote machine, as likely
to laugh at the absurdity of his business as he is to get
defensive about it. He believes in a simple message, oft-repeated.
To him, local TV news is "that which customers are, will,
or should be talking about," whether that's Hurricane Floyd
or the New Carissa.
"If the people in Gresham were talking about Bosnia--and
I'm not saying they are--that would be local news," Oslund
says.
Oslund's reputation is as someone who will do anything
to get the audience share. He admits that for a story about
the recent string of incidents in which cars have been rushing
through intersections to beat light-rail trains, he wanted
to crash a truck into a train to see what it looked like.
The insurance was too expensive, but it's the kind of thing
he says is necessary to get the attention of viewers so
that he can feed them some real news.
"Look," he says, "people don't get dressed up, bring in
the family and say sh, sh, the news is coming on...let's
all watch. People are busy. For the most part, we're a glowing
box in the corner of everyone's living room while they're
doing other things, and we need to wave our arms, jump up
and down and say 'Hey! We have something to show
you.'"
Last year Oslund was promoted to director of news for his
parent company, Lee Broadcasting Group, which means he's
setting the tone for nine other TV stations across the country.
"You know what?" he says. "In this station, I don't have
to be a journalist. There are lots of great journalists
working under me who will take care of that."
Across town sits the news director for KGW-TV, Rod Gramer.
From the window of his office near Lincoln High School,
he can see the MAX trains plastered in images of KOIN's
anchor team. Gramer is as staid as Oslund is flamboyant,
as thoughtful as Oslund is impetuous. He has an unusual
background for a TV news director. He spent 14 years at
the Idaho Statesman newspaper, ultimately as the
editorial-page editor. Eleven years ago he jumped to television,
specifically to the dominant station in the Boise market,
KTVB, a sister station to KGW.
Gramer will not publicly criticize KOIN or Oslund's methods,
but it's clear he thinks Oslund is more showman than newsman.
He is keen to point out that there is a difference in local
news. Before an interview with WW, he prepared a
written testament of his philosophy for KGW. "Content is
king," it says, then it outlines the ways in which he thinks
KGW stands apart as a serious news organization. The station
has, for example, full-time environmental, Capitol and investigative
reporters.
KGW reporter Walden Kirsch has worked for more news directors
than he wants to think about, and while some were better
than others, he says Gramer may be the first real newsman
among them. "The news directors I've worked for have not
been hardcore journalistic. He's the first one in my entire
career who has some credentials as a news director."
The coverage of the death of golfer Payne Stewart in a
Learjet crash on Monday, Nov. 18, shows the difference between
the two news directors.
Both stations broke the story in the morning and stayed
with it all day. Most interesting, however, is how they
handled it at 5 o'clock.
KGW did 7 minutes and 40 seconds of Payne Stewart coverage--including
a taped interview with local golfer Peter Jacobsen, a friend
of Stewart and a Learjet pilot--then went to live coverage
of the latest attempt to move the New Carissa.
KOIN, however, took it further.
During the 5 o'clock news, KOIN ate up most of the newscast
with an "exclusive" live (as opposed to taped) interview
with Jacobsen. Warren Petrie, KOIN's combo journalist/helicopter
pilot, did a live spot about Learjets, with a tour of the
cabin and a description of what it would be like when the
windows froze. KOIN's resident health reporter, Nurse Kris,
theorized that because of the loss of cabin pressure, Stewart
and the other passengers had probably passed out and did
not know they were about to crash. At 15 minutes into the
news, KOIN was still on the story, long after the other
two stations had moved on to other things.
The blanket coverage was too much for anchor Shirley Hancock.
"We were the only ones who had Peter live, and that's great,
but I felt we needed other things in the newscast," she
says. "If you're concerned about ratings, there were other
things that are more important."
There may have been more important things, but the viewers
didn't care about them. The next day the ratings showed
that KOIN's saturation coverage won the 5 o'clock time slot
with a 22 share to KGW's 19.
Oslund knew that Portland, like the rest of the country,
was talking about Payne Stewart. To switch to another story
was to risk losing viewers to another station.
It's a reality Mark Hass knows well. Hass recently went
off the air as a reporter for KATU's Channel 2 to run for
a seat in the House of Representatives. Hass has long been
respected as one of the few television journalists who went
after the dry but important stories. But he doesn't kid
himself about viewer loyalty. "I know when they see a Mark
Hass story about education reform or land use," he says,
"they're switching to ESPN. I can just feel it."
When Hass goes to speaking events, he says, he goes prepared:
"I've learned to take with me the overnight ratings. When
they say, 'Why can't you be more like MacNeil-Lehrer?'
I show them. The night before MacNeil got a 1.4 share
in the ratings. Bart Simpson got a 24."
Given that reality, it would make sense for local TV-news
stations to attempt everything from the sublime to the ridiculous
to gain audience share. KGW's Gramer wouldn't disclose his
plans for November, but Oslund concedes that he's planning
several investigative pieces, one involving an undercover
camera. He'll also be sure to pepper his news with subjects
that his research shows are popular with viewers: health
and animal stories.
Which explains why Gianola recently donned an electronic
dog collar.
Gianola says that earlier this year he was thinking of
getting such a collar for his cocker spaniel, Yancy, but,
after doing some research, he decided they were too painful.
He pitched the story to Oslund, who thought it had great
potential. As part of the taping, Gianola actually donned
two types of collars--on his wrist and ankle--and zapped
himself.
"It was a dumb thing to do," he says, "because it hurt
like hell--but it was important for the story. You're going
to put one on your dog? Well, would you put it on yourself?"
Oslund saved this story for November.
"Are we running it because of sweeps?" Gianola says. "Yeah.
Is part of the payoff to see Jeff Gianola get zapped by
a dog collar? Yeah. But it's an important story."
To Gramer, that's not news--it's a stunt similar to an
incident last year during sweeps, when Gianola went one-on-one
with a professional wrestler.
"You're not going to see an anchor wrestling here," Gramer
says. "And you're not going to see an anchor in a dog collar."
The irony is that the stations are fighting over an increasingly
fragmented and indifferent audience.
The reasons aren't all that hard to figure out: cable television
and the Internet. There are more cable channels than buttons
on the remote, and it's all too easy for surfers to get
drawn in to shows other than the local news. And the Internet
provides the immediacy of television, but with the possibility
of more in-depth coverage.
In addition, according to UO professor Upshaw, the audience
for television news has aged with the medium, and it is
not reaching new viewers.
"Anecdotally and statistically," Upshaw says, "they're
not getting younger viewers. Young people's lives have been
surrounded by television, and it's now dropped into the
background. They've never counted on it for current events."
Part of the reason for that, he says, is that young people
are simply not interested in the news. But it's also, he
says, that they are more media-savvy and realize that television
isn't telling them anything they need to know.
Stations are desperately trying to capture this market
while fighting the loss of their current audience. All three
local affiliates have Web sites that include the breaking
news of the day, links to their live "skycams" and biographies
of the top broadcast personalities. So far, however, the
sites are not spurring people to jump from their computers
to the television.
The fragmentation of the market will only get worse with
the switch to digital TV, which will begin next month. This
will ultimately allow local affiliates to have multiple
channels, each targeting a different audience: The Portland
Pet Channel, for example, or a local weather channel.
Gianola is well aware that his days as king of the media
mountain may be numbered. "I think the days of the real
popular anchors will be gone in five or six years," he says.
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Willamette Week | originally
published November 3,
1999
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