Walking down the hospital hallway, drained and sad, I turned to my brother. “Johnny, I guess we need to write Dad’s obituary.”
He smiled. “Oh, Katie, no, we don’t. He’s already written it.” He’d also written thorough instructions, back when he was in perfect health, for his funeral arrangements, including that the local Presbyterian minister should preside, that Kiki’s son Sam should blow taps, and “under no conditions are you to purchase fancy urns”—for him, or when the time came, for our mother. Thrifty to the end.
On a steamy, sticky, southern day in August, we had a small graveside service in Eufaula. Each of us gave a eulogy. I noted that our father was neither handy nor sporty, but he was fair-minded, kind, and incredibly smart—“I now so regret teasing Daddy by starting to snore at the dinner table every time he tried to explain an issue or deliver some insight about history,” I said. I went on for pages and could have gone on for several more but closed with gratitude for “his loving presence in our lives—even after his death.”
I miss my dad.
76
Family Feud
AFTER BEING STUCK in second place for 852 consecutive weeks （more than 16 years!）， Good Morning America finally beat TODAY in the ratings. Rumors about Ann’s fate swirled. We’d later learn from media reporter Brian Stelter that the show’s executives had hatched a secret plan, code name Operation Bambi: Marginalize Ann to the point of no return. Thirteen months after being anointed, she was out.
On the morning of June 11th, 2012, I curled up on the couch, still in my pj’s, and tuned in:
“This is not easy to say,” Ann begins, “but this is going to be my last morning as a regular co-host of TODAY.” And suddenly she starts tearing up. Voice cracking, she tells the audience that they are “the real TODAY show family.”
Meanwhile, Matt is sitting right next to her on the couch, legs casually crossed, right arm draped across the back of the sofa à la Don Draper in the Mad Men title sequence. Given the gossip, you couldn’t help but conclude that he’d played a role in Ann’s demise.
“You have the biggest heart in the business,” he attempts, as Ann dabs her eyes with a delicate finger. “You put it on display every single day in this studio.” The two are flanked by a somber-looking Al Roker and Natalie Morales. A choked-up Natalie reaches across Matt to grab Ann’s hand. Now there’s an image for the ages: a tight shot of their grip inches from Matt’s sternum.
Just as I was thinking/hoping/daring to dream we were done here, the most cringeworthy thing happens: Matt actually leans over and tries to give Ann a kiss, grazing her temple as she visibly ducks.
And so ended Operation Bambi. But NBC’s troubles had just begun. Despite the declining ratings, Ann had some very loyal fans, and they rallied around her, threatening boycotts and ranting on Twitter:
@todayshow stinks without Ann…Shame on u for how u treated @anncurry…WHAT A BIG MISTAKE THEY’VE MADE.
It reminded me of Jane Pauley’s ouster 23 years earlier.
Handling on-air transitions is one of the toughest things in the business, partly because management often fails to understand the intimate relationship viewers have with the people who show up on their TV in the morning: smiling supportively, giving them a heads-up on the weather, reminding them what time it is, sharing news both good and bad, becoming part of the household hubbub. The audience learns about their lives and pet peeves—for instance, that Bryant Gumbel hated cheese （“I’d rather eat a pound of dirt”） and that Matt was such a germophobe he made no bones about wanting to swim in a tank of Purell after greeting fans on the plaza. Viewers knew that I’d sing at the drop of a hat, that Al loved to draw cartoons, and that Ann’s mother disapproved of her makeup. All that familiarity breeds deep loyalty in an audience, and if they feel one of their on-air friends has been wronged, they’ll turn.
Ann’s situation should have been handled differently. The TODAY show could have been straight with her rather than sabotaging her, but TV executives aren’t known for honest conversations. By the time they offered her the soft landing of compassionate globe-trotting correspondent, parachuting into disasters natural and man-made—a role she perfected—there was too much bad blood, and all she wanted was out.
I wonder if Ann felt vindicated by the ferocious backlash Matt suffered. He could have avoided the whole thing if he’d taken us up on a pretty sexy offer: to co-host the syndicated show with me, an idea we’d hit him with twice. The second time, ABC got heavily involved, with Bob Iger offering a package of opportunities at the network and apparently ponying up even more than he was paying me. I knew they’d have to break the bank to pry Matt away, and they were willing.