Most male anchors seemed to think angling for interviews was beneath them—they had that luxury. For “the ladies of the night” （that’s how Peter Jennings referred to the female co-anchors of evening newsmagazine shows）， scoring a get not only gave you bragging rights but provided a degree of job security. The competition that resulted fed into the sexist notion that we were backbiting nutjobs, scratching and clawing and ripping out each other’s shoulder pads like Krystle and Alexis on Dynasty. （I find it puzzling that turf wars involving ruthlessly competitive men barely register—David Muir sparring with George Stephanopoulos over who got to anchor special reports; Bryant Gumbel openly deriding fellow sports wiz Bob Costas. Maybe it’s because they didn’t have talons or wear heels and wouldn’t make for juicy, gendered copy.）
When it came to snagging big interviews, Lori Beecher was my secret weapon. She had an unparalleled ability to earn people’s trust. They wanted to either marry her, adopt her, or take her on their next vacation. And she stopped at nothing on the rocky road to yes.
One of our first coups was Lucille Bloch, whose diplomat husband, Felix, was now thought to have been a spy. Lori was trying to convince Lucille to do an interview with me for the short-lived newsmagazine Now I anchored with Tom Brokaw. Lori asked Lucille if she could come to North Carolina to meet with her in person. When Lucille said she’d be spending the day cleaning and playing tennis, Lori showed up with Pine-Sol and a tennis racket and promptly made herself Lucille’s constant companion.
Shortly after she arrived at the Bloch residence, a call came in. Lucille was busy, so Lori answered the phone.
“Hello, is Lucille there?” came the sultry voice.
“May I ask who’s calling?” Lori said sweetly.
“Diane Sawyer.”
“Just a minute, please.” Lori covered the receiver and paused for a few seconds, then got back on the line. “Hi, Ms. Sawyer, Lucille is unavailable right now, but I’ll have her call you back. What’s the best number?” Somehow, Lori forgot to give Lucille the message.
The next day, a letter-size FedEx arrived—return address ABC. Lori slid it under a big pile of unopened mail.
I’m guessing Lucille found the note from Diane a few days after my interview.
NOW THAT DIANE and I would be facing off in the morning, the GMA/TODAY competition started to careen out of control.
In August of 2002, Jacqueline Marris, 17, and Tamara Brooks, 16, were abducted, assaulted, and bound together with duct tape and rope in Palmdale, California. Somehow they managed to free themselves and smash their captor over the head with a whiskey bottle before the police showed up. The terrifying ordeal had all the elements of a morning-show blockbuster.
In an effort to secure an interview with Jacqueline and her mother, Nadine, Diane portrayed herself as a devoted family woman, just like her. And it worked; Nadine agreed to a sit-down. Meanwhile, our booker Gloria DeLeon, who was busily building her own relationship with the family, kindly pointed out to Nadine that Diane never even had kids—that she was a stepmother, whereas Katie Couric was a widow raising two daughters on her own. She was the family person. Gloria wore Nadine down, and it was decided they would talk to me. （Excuse me while I go take a shower.）
The only problem, said Nadine, was that her daughter had nothing to wear for the interview, since the police had seized her favorite pair of Dickies as evidence. So Gloria took Jacqueline to the mall and bought her a new pair.
Diane must have had steam coming out of her ears （I know the feeling）。 Trying to salvage the interview, she called Nadine, who innocently told her Jacqueline was out shopping with someone from TODAY. Good to know, I’m sure Diane thought. （Paying for an interview was a major no-no, even though that rule was often skirted with flowers, fancy dinners, and free trips to New York with a Broadway show thrown in.）
Luckily, I happened to be in LA when all hell broke loose. My friend and West Coast producer Audrey Kolina and I headed to Lancaster to do the interview at a hotel in town. Cue the Mission: Impossible theme: GMA found out and showed up at Jacqueline’s house, claiming they were there to take her to the interview. Jacqueline was confused and called Gloria.
“Don’t get in a car with anyone,” Gloria ordered. “I’m driving you.” On the way to the hotel, Gloria noticed they were being tailed—by a GMA booker and cameraman, it turned out, who suddenly gunned it and tried to run Gloria’s car off the road. She called 911.
Somehow we managed to tape the interview, which aired the next day. But if we got the story, GMA got the last laugh: An embarrassing piece in the New York Times said NBC was “forced to acknowledge” that one of our bookers “had violated NBC News standards by buying Ms. Marris a pair of pants on an excursion to a mall…and that the booker would face disciplinary action.” （When what Gloria really deserved was combat pay.）