The idea that NBC might actually want me to read the news in front of the huge TODAY show audience seemed absurd. But I didn’t feel like I could say no, so I practiced, reading off a prompter a few times in the Washington bureau after the evening news, once the place had emptied out. I learned the importance of turning the pages of the script on the desk as I was reading the words on the screen. Everyone’s afraid of the prompter crapping out, and knowing you can default to the script if necessary is crucial. The other thing, which is harder than it sounds, is to make it look like you are talking instead of reading. Newspeople joke about “seeing God in the prompter”—the gobsmacked look you get if you’re fixated on the screen. I dedicated myself to avoiding that look.
Soon enough, I got the call, and hopped on the shuttle to New York.
CROSSING ROCKEFELLER PLAZA in the heart of Midtown, I felt like Marlo Thomas in the title sequence of That Girl. The colorful flags whipping in the wind, the sun glinting off the gilded Prometheus statue, the art deco skyscraper with its bronze and marble lobby and massive American Progress mural, made the mere act of showing up for work feel exhilarating.
The studio itself was a revelation. TV Land has an otherworldly quality; the cheerfully artificial sets bathed in cheerfully unnatural light create a sense of hyper-reality. It was like the scene in The Wizard of Oz when suddenly everything is in Technicolor.
Also otherworldly: Meeting Bryant Gumbel. Despite how confrontational he could be in interviews, he was incredibly welcoming and friendly to me. In retrospect, I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I came from the Pentagon, giving me instant street cred with him. Furthermore, at the time he was in ratings hell, and grateful, probably, for anything resembling a lifeline.
Reading the news that first time out, I was stiff as a board, although not a disaster, and they kept asking me back. Eventually, I got more comfortable and started relying on my sense of humor to bring a little levity to the proceedings. Whenever possible, I ended the newscast with something light and funny, a so-called kicker that gave the anchors something to react to. One time, the last story involved a skier who got lost on the slopes. Desperate to signal a search plane, he’d lit his money on fire. The pilot spotted the flame and the skier was rescued. When I threw back to Bryant, I said, “With my luck, I’d only have change.”
The crew hooted; Bryant practically belly-laughed. To be able to make Bryant laugh was a major test, and I passed. I can still remember how good that felt. From then on, my news producer Jim Dick and I were always on the hunt for a funny story to end the newscast with.
Then the producers asked me to take part in a cooking segment with Deborah. Michael Lomonaco, the chef at the venerable 21 Club, had come in to whip up some fondue. Stirring ingredients in a silver tureen atop a Sterno flame, he described the fancy European cheeses he used. With Deborah gorgeously standing by, I asked, “So this is better than Velveeta?” I grew up eating that brick of cheese-like substance, and knew much of America had too.
Again, the crew laughed, and so did Lomonaco. Maybe I was onto something.
17
A Two-Bagger
IN MAY OF 1990, Jay and I were at the University of New Mexico for his sister Sally’s graduation when I was summoned to 30 Rock for a meeting. Like, now. We saw her get her sheepskin and raced to the Albuquerque airport.
“What do you think it’s about?” I asked Jay as we settled into our coach seats. Were things so bad with Deborah they wanted to make a change? We almost couldn’t let ourselves go there.
We rode the elevator to Dick Ebersol’s leather-upholstered executive man cave. Before we even had a chance to sit, Dick got down to business.
“We love your work,” he said. “We think you’re doing a great job. Which is why”—Here it comes—“we want to offer you the newly created position of national correspondent for the TODAY show.”
I was confused. It didn’t sound like much of a promotion; why would they go to so much trouble to get me here for that? But okay. If they liked me enough to create a job for me, that had to mean something.
Then Ebersol opened a closet in his office and loaded us up with NBC Sports goodies: umbrellas, mugs, and tote bags bearing peacocks. I’d later learn the plan had been to offer me the co-anchor job—Deborah’s job. But somewhere in the air between Albuquerque and New York City, things changed. It turned out that Deborah’s grandmother had died, and NBC was worried about the timing fueling yet more bad press. Instead, they grew the team, adding Faith Daniels as newsreader; Bryant’s friend Joe Garagiola, to help him seem more warm and fuzzy; and me.