Producer (2 page)

In other words, we are always working simultaneously on whatever is going on today, the rest of the week, and way into the
future. While we do this, one of the editorial producers does the research for the open of the show: Larry is extraordinarily
well-versed since he watches news all day long, but he still needs specifics. So one producer writes the open, others produce
the video components, and still others are in charge of the live show. That includes satellites, audio, graphics, phone calls,
the rundown, content, remote locations, and breaking news during the show. There are publicists, cameramen, makeup artists;
everyone is doing his or her individual job to create a live show.

And so each job is a piece of the whole, like a set of dominoes. It all has to fit together in harmony because if one domino
goes down, so do all the rest. Everyone has to know what everyone else is doing, and we perform this intricate dance every
day, all day long. If the show changes suddenly in the middle of the day, which happens very often, we start the process all
over again, with less time and more scurrying around. But we always get the job done.

So far so good for this particular day. It seemed that
Larry King Live
would go forward as planned. On our roster, we had conservative Ann Coulter, Democratic strategist Donna Brazile, and Elizabeth
Edwards, who was struggling with inoperable cancer and her ex-senator husband’s stunning infidelity. I thought we might include
some information on Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina who was also embroiled in an extramarital scandal, so the show
was off to a solid start.

I gave the go-ahead to check into the availability of Governor Sanford and a few others, but as executive producer I had to
keep in mind that Barbara Walters was airing an ABC special about ailing actress Farrah Fawcett that night. In her
advance publicity for the special, Barbara had suggested on
Good Morning America
that Farrah, who was struggling with the last stages of cancer, might not make it through the day. It sounded a little presumptuous
on Barbara’s part, but the actress had supposedly been at death’s door for quite a while. If she died today, I would have
to change the show. That was par for the course. I often changed the focus of a show when we were in the planning stages,
since I had to respond to what was going on in the world at each moment. But I hoped I didn’t have to.

I was in the middle of the morning booking call when, at 9:28 a.m., a flash showed up on my computer. Farrah had passed away.
Barbara had been right and we had some adjusting to do.

Adjusting on a moment’s notice is what this job has constantly demanded during the past seventeen years. Now we were facing
the death of a beloved actress and we had to change the show. We did an about-face. There was no doubt that the show we originally
planned was out. It was tough since we had to start from scratch again, but I didn’t freak out. That would have taken up too
much time and wasted too much valuable energy. We would replace show number one with show number two, which would be devoted
to Farrah’s death. We all got on the phone to reschedule our guests (we never cancel; we always reschedule) and round up the
appropriate people for the tragic new show.

When a show suddenly turns on its head because something important supersedes our plans, each moment is crucial and we are
filled with anxiety as we are required to book a whole new show in a very short period of time. It’s not unusual for me to
be ironing out the wrinkles of a show well into the
late afternoon, which is edgy since we air at 6 p.m. on the West Coast. By the end of a day like the one I was presently facing,
I have generally made hundreds of decisions, and the only way to do that is to remain calm. That would be the case today,
I realized, reminding myself to breathe as we began drawing up lists of guests who knew Farrah, as well as checking their
availability. Dreams of a simple day flew out the window as we began to prepare for show number two, but I had no idea how
crazy the day would turn out.

Before I got back on the phone, I shot off an e-mail to my friend Lisa Ling, special correspondent for CNN, and The Oprah
Winfrey Show. Her sister, Laura Ling, and a colleague, Euna Lee, had been detained in North Korea since March 17, 2009, for
entering the country without a visa. They had been covering a controversial story on human trafficking, and on June 8 the
women had been sentenced to twelve years of hard labor, having been found guilty of the “grave crime” of illegal entry into
North Korea, even though they were told by their guide that it was safe to do so.

Lisa had been working day and night to try to bring her sister home, and we had booked her, her parents, and the husbands
of the two detained journalists on the show to make a public appeal. I recall being very careful to accentuate Lisa’s needs
rather than making the show what
we
wanted it to be during that hour she talked with Larry. This was all about getting the women back, which overrode our desire
for good ratings. All of Lisa’s pleas and maneuverings needed to be handled with great delicacy because of how political and
disturbing the situation was. I couldn’t imagine how she was getting up in the mornings, so I e-mailed her daily, asking about
her progress and if there was anything I could do. This morning, I wrote:

Hi. Have you heard anything more? How are you holding up?

Lisa wrote back:

Hey, Mama. [That’s what she calls me.] I’m about to lose my mind.

This is so frustrating. I’ll be ok, just venting about bureaucracy…

Back to Farrah. Time was flying by as we contacted various principals in her life and tried to book them. So far, we had gotten
Dick and Pat Van Patten, Candy Spelling, Joan Dangerfield, and my dear friend Suzanne Somers. It was coming together, but
I stopped for a moment when a provocative e-mail landed in my in-box. The popular TMZ Web site, a huge leader in entertainment
news, had posted the following information:

1:44 p.m. We’ve just learned that Michael Jackson was taken by ambulance to a hospital in Los Angeles… we’re told it was cardiac
arrest and that paramedics administered CPR in the ambulance.

Oh, no. What was this? Please! I e-mailed the staff member who had sent it:

1:45 p.m. We might have to do something on this. Check it out please.

I got on a conference call with several of my producers while one of them phoned Jermaine Jackson, Michael’s brother, to find
out what he knew. She sent me this:

1:47 p.m. I’m on with Jermaine’s wife right now. They had no idea.

I immediately e-mailed Lisa Gregorisch, my close friend and executive producer of
Extra
. She always got the celebrity breaking news fast and we often validated our information with each other.

1:48 p.m. I am sure you know this. An insider just told me that an ambulance just went into the compound of Michael Jackson’s
home. No details or for what reason or for whom. Minutes ago, the ambulance just left Michael’s home with sirens sounding.

Lisa wrote back:

1:49 p.m. Yes, it could be cardiac arrest.

My staff continued booking the show about Farrah and I told them to keep Larry off all press calls, at home and on his cell
phone. We had to find out the truth about Michael Jackson before he said a word to anyone. What if Larry answered his phone,
was asked a question, and made a comment that was not true? When I was sure Larry would not answer any calls, I placed a call
to criminal attorney Mark Geragos, a regular on our show and a former lawyer to Michael. “Mark,” I said, “we’re hearing that
Michael Jackson might be very sick. Or dead.”

Mark said he would check it out. Five minutes later he called me back. “I’ve been told he’s dead,” Mark said, “but they’re
not confirming it yet.”

What should we do about the show? It was a tough call, but my gut told me this was more than a rumor, partly because I
knew that Geragos had reliable sources inside the LAPD. It was after 2 p.m. when my staff and I started booking an alternative
show, just in case the rumors were true, which was looking more and more likely. Show number three would feature the deaths
of both Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. It’s hard to book a show when you don’t know if someone is alive or dead. Imagine
the sensitivity required in asking someone to come on the show “if and when” their loved one dies. Or if he has already died.
And still, we had to do it.

My anxiety was at a high pitch when we had four hours left and we weren’t even sure what we were going to do that night. I
could lose my composure, which would waste precious time, or I could follow my gut, which told me that a tragedy of some sort
was occurring around Michael Jackson. I had come to trust my intuition after so many years of depending upon it, and besides,
I reminded myself, if it was a rumor, why would it still be circulating this many hours later? I felt the immensity of the
situation. If Michael was really dead, similar to the deaths of Elvis and Marilyn, it would touch everyone on an international
level. But we had to find out the truth quickly so we could put together the right show.

At 2:50 p.m., we got another e-mail from the TMZ Web site:

We’ve just learned that Michael Jackson has died. He was 50. Michael suffered a cardiac arrest earlier this afternoon and
paramedics were unable to revive him. We’re told when paramedics arrived, Jackson had no pulse and they never got a pulse
back.

Since it was TMZ, a celebrity and gossip entertainment site, it was still considered a rumor, but it was getting much too
real to ignore. Should I continue to book guests for Farrah as well
as Michael? There was no one to ask, so I made a quick decision. While the buzz about Michael’s death continued to escalate,
I sent out the following e-mail to my staff:

3:08 p.m., PST. Assuming the news is true, we will be going live at 9 and possibly at midnight. Concentrate on Michael Jackson…
it is a bigger story because it is a shock. Do not book any more guests for Farrah unless they know Michael. It is about Michael.

Show number four was in the works, and the first order of business was to confirm that the rumors of Michael’s death were
true. Each of us made calls depending on whom we knew best. I called back Mark Geragos, who was getting the news from his
sources. All of my producers and I were working in tandem with the network since they needed to get a production truck to
the hospital and Jackson’s home as we contacted every friend, colleague, and business associate of Michael’s, putting out
an APB on the guests we were trying to book at the last minute.

The hour was late and we were working on booking a long list of people when I pushed back from my desk, feeling light-headed.
When was the last time I ate? I hadn’t been this immersed in a story since Scott Peterson was convicted of killing his wife
and his unborn child. I walked into the living room to find my daughter sitting on the couch, reading a magazine. Walker was
on the floor beside her. “I’m pretty sure Michael Jackson is dead,” I told them. “This is a moment you’ll never forget.”

I remembered exactly where I was when John Lennon, Marilyn Monroe, President Kennedy, and Princess Diana had died. I knew
that if Michael really was gone, this was the same
kind of monumental loss that would send the entire world into collective shock. But I had a show to book. I returned to my
office and got back on the phone, so far removed from where I’d been when I woke up that morning, it was hard to believe it
was the same day.

In the next half hour, the
Los Angeles Times
reported:

Pop star Michael Jackson was pronounced dead by doctors this afternoon after arriving at the hospital in a deep coma, city
and law enforcement sources told the
Times
.

It wasn’t long after this bulletin that I was e-mailed a photograph of Michael’s head, presumably dead. The photographer wanted
money for it. He was wasting his time. Soon after, CNN made the announcement that Michael had died. Now it was official.

I dove headfirst into the business of finding out who knew Michael best and who we could get on the show in just a few hours.
Show number four was in full production mode, and still, I had to do my regular job when a crisis arose about something else
altogether. An executive producer wears a lot of hats, and it seemed that Billy Ray Cyrus had been on the show June 12 and
had concerns about his segments. It was a rare occurrence when a guest was less than satisfied—I couldn’t even remember the
last time—so I wrote Billy Ray an e-mail to the effect that I was a little busy with the current breaking news but I wanted
to apologize. I followed that with a short explanation of what had occurred and why. In essence, I took the blame, fell on
my sword, and sent the e-mail.

It’s a good idea to avoid blaming the other guy. If you made a mistake, just admit it. It might feel uncomfortable at the
time, but owning your mistake will make you look a far sight better than
coming up with a lame excuse that nobody believes anyway. For this very intense moment in time, it worked with Billy Ray.
I got an e-mail straight back from him, saying he couldn’t believe that on a day that two icons had died, I was still concerned
about him. He thought that was amazing and he wrote, “We’ll always have this moment of sharing the tragedy of the death of
Michael Jackson. He was so important to me and I am so sorry.”

I exhaled. Back to the work at hand. My staff had the tough and highly delicate job of letting the Farrah people know that
we were preempting her for the death of a more famous and celebrated star than the woman they loved so well. Then an e-mail
arrived from Lisa Ling. One would expect her to be completely wrapped up in advocating for her sister, but she was caring
enough to have moved outside of her own tragedy and thought of me: