The Evening News (3 page)

He put two bills, a twenty and a five, on a waiter's tray on which three double scotches and a club soda had been delivered
.”
Just because you pull down twice as much as I do for half the work is no reason to hand the print press charity
.”

"Oh, for chrissakes
!”

Rita said
.”
Brod, why don't you throw away that old
cracked record
.”

Rita had spoken loudly, as she sometimes did. Two uniformed officers from
the airport's Department of Public Safety force, which policed DFW, had
been walking through the bar; they turned their heads curiously. Observing
them, Rita smiled and waved a hand. The officers' eyes took in the group
and, around them, the assortment of cameras and equipment on which the CBA
logo was prominent. Both DPS men returned the smile and moved on
.
Harry Partridge, who had been watching, thought: Rita was showing her age
today. Even though she exuded a strong sexuality which had drawn many men
to her, there were telltale lines on her face; also, the toughness which
made her as demanding of herself as of those she worked with came through
in imperious little mannerisms, not always attractively. There was recent
reason, of course-the strain and heavy work load which she, Harry and the
other two had shared through the past two months
.
Rita was forty-three, and six years ago was still appearing on camera as
a news correspondent, though far less often than when she was younger and
more glamorous. Everyone knew it was a rotten, unfair system that allowed
men to continue as correspondents, to keep on facing the camera even when
their faces revealed them to be growing older, whereas women couldn't and
were shunted aside like discarded concubines. A few women had tried to
fight and beat the system-Christine Craft, a reporter and anchor-woman
,
pursued the issue through the courts, but had not succeeded
.
But Rita, instead of starting a fight she knew she wouldn't win, had
switched to producing and, behind the camera instead of in front of it, had
been triumphantly successful. Along the
way she had badgered senior producers into giving her some of the tough foreign assignments which almost always went to men. For a while her male bosses had resisted, then they had given in, and soon Rita was sent automatically-along with Harry-to where the fighting was fiercest and the living hardest
.
Broderick, who had been pondering Rita's last remark, now said, "It isn't
as if your glamour gang is doing anything important. Every night that
tiny news hole has only tooth pickings of all that's happened in the
world. How long is it-nineteen minutes
?
”

"If you're shooting at us sitting ducks
,”
Partridge said amiably, "at
least the print press should get its facts straight. It's twenty-one and
a half
.”

"Leaving seven minutes for commercials
,”
Rita added, "which, among other
things, pay Harry's excessive salary which turns you green with
jealousy
.”

Rita, with her usual bluntness, was on the nose about jealousy, Partridge
thought. With print press people, the difference between their own and
TV news pay was always a sore point. In contrast with Partridge's
earnings, which were $250,000 a year, Broderick, a first-class, highly
competent reporter, probably got $85,000
.
As if his train of thought had not been interrupted, the Timesman
continued, "What your entire network news department produces in a day
would only fill half of one of our paper's pages
.”

"A dumb comparison
,”
Rita shot back, "because everyone knows a picture
is worth a thousand words. We have hundreds of pictures and we take
people to where the news is so they can see it for themselves. No
newspaper in history ever did that
.”

Broderick, holding in one hand the fresh double scotch he had been
sipping, waved the other hand dismissingly
.”
'S not relevant
.”

The last
word gave him trouble; he pronounced it "revelant
.”

It was Minh Van Canh, not usually a great talker, who asked, "Why not
?
”

"Because you people are dodos. TV network news is dying.
All you ever were was a headline service and now the local stations are taking over even that, using technology to bring in outside news themselves, picking off pieces of you like vultures at a carcass
.”

"Well
,”
Partridge said, still agreeably relaxed, "there are some who've
been saying that for years. But look at us. We're still around, and still
strong, because people watch network news for quality
.”

"You're goddamn right
,”
Rita said
.”
And something else you have wrong
,
Brod, is the notion that local TV news is getting better. It isn't. It's
getting worse. Some of the people who left networks with high hopes to work
in local news have gone back to the networks in disgust
.”

Broderick asked, "Why so
?
”

"Because local station managements see news as hype, promotion, massive
revenue. They use that new technology you talk about to pander to the
lowest viewer tastes. And when they send someone from their news department
on a big outside story, it's usually a kid, out of his depth, who can't
compete with a network reporter's know-how and backup
.”

Harry Partridge yawned. The thing about this conversation, he realized, was
that it was a retread, a game that filled vacant time but required no
intellectual effort, and they had indulged in the game many times before
.
Then he became aware of some activity nearby
.
The two DPS officers were still in the bar through which they had moved
casually, but had suddenly become attentive and were listening to their
walkie-talkies. An announcement was being transmitted. Partridge caught the
words, ". . . condition Alert Two . . . midair collision . . . approaching
runway one-seven left . . . all DPS personnel report Abruptly, hurrying, the officers left the bar
.
The others in the group had heard too
.”
Hey
!”

Minh Van Canh said
.”
Maybe
. .
.”

Rita jumped up
.”
I'll find out what's happening
.”

She left the bar
hurriedly
.
Van Canh and O'Hara began to gather together their camera and sound ' gear. Partridge and Broderick did the same with their belongings
.
One of the DPS officers was still in sight. Rita caught up with him near
an American Airlines check-in counter, noting that he was youthfully
handsome with the physique of a football player
.”
I'm from CBA News
.”

She showed her network press card
.
His eyes were frankly appraising
.”
Yes, I know
.”

In other circumstances, she thought briefly, she might have introduced him
to the pleasures of an older woman. Unfortunately there wasn't time. She
asked, "What's going on
?
”

The officer hesitated
.”
You're supposed to call the Public Information
Office-
”
Rita said impatiently, "I'll do that later. It's urgent, isn't it? So tell
me
.”

"Muskegon Airlines is in trouble. One of their Airbuses had a midair. It's
coming in on fire. We're on Alert Two, which means all the emergency stuff
is rolling, heading for runway one-seven left
.”

His voice was serious
.”
Looks pretty bad
.”

"I want my camera crew out there. Now and fast. Which way do we go
?
”

The DPS man shook his head
.”
If you try it unescorted, you won't get beyond
the ramp. You'll be arrested
.”

Rita remembered something she had once been told, that DFW airport prided
itself on cooperating with the press. She pointed to the officer's
walkie-talkie
.”
Can you call Public Information on that
?
”

"I could
.”

"Do it. Please
!”

Her persuasion worked. The officer called and was answered. Taking Rita's
press card, he read from it, explaining her request
.
A reply came back
.”
Tell them they must first come to public safety station
number one to sign in and get media badges
.”

Rita groaned. She gestured to the walkie-talkie
.”
Let me speak
.”

T
he DPS officer pressed a transmit button. He held the radio out
.
She spoke urgently into the built-in mike: "There isn't time; you must
know that. We're network. We have every kind of credential. We'll do any
paperwork you want afterward. But please, please, get us to the scene
now
.”

"Stand by
.”

A pause, then a new voice with crisp authority
.”
Okay, get
to gate nineteen fast. Ask someone there to direct you to the ramp. Look
for a station wagon with flashing lights. I'm on my way to you
.”

Rita squeezed the officer's arm
.”
Thanks, pal
!”

Then she was hurrying back toward Partridge and the others who were
leaving the bar. Broderick was last. As he left, the New York Times man
cast a regretful glance back at the unconsumed drinks for which he had
paid
.
Briskly, Rita related what she had learned, telling Partridge, Minh and
O'Hara, "This can be big. Go out on the airfield. Don't waste time. I'll
do some phoning, then come to find you
.”

She glanced at her watch: 5:20
P.m., 6:20 in New York
.”
If we're fast we can make the first feed
.”

But
privately she doubted it
.
Partridge nodded, accepting Rita's orders. At any time, the relationship
between a correspondent and producer was an imprecise one. Officially
,
a field producer such as Rita Abrams was in charge of an entire crew
,
including the correspondent, and if anything went wrong on an assignment
the producer got the blame. If things went right, of course, the
correspondent whose face and name were featured received the praise, even
though the producer undoubtedly helped shape the story and contributed
to the script
.
However, in the case of a "Big Foot
”
senior correspondent like Harry
Partridge, the official pecking order sometimes got turned around, with
the correspondent taking charge and a producer being overawed and
sometimes overruled, But when Partridge and Rita worked together, neither
gave a damn about status. They simply wanted to send back the best
reports that the two of them, in harness, could produce
.
While Rita hurried to a pay phone, Partridge, Minh and
O'Hara moved quickly toward gate 19, looking for an exit to the air traffic ramp below. Graham Broderick, quickly sobered by what was happening, was close behind
.
Near the gate was a doorway marked:

RAMP-RESTRICTED AREA
EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY
ALARM WILL SOUND

No official person was in sight and without hesitation Partridge pushed
his way through, the others following. As they clattered down a metal
stairway, a loud alarm bell sounded behind them. They ignored it and
emerged onto the ramp
.
It was a busy time of day and the ramp was crowded with aircraft and
airline vehicles. Suddenly a station wagon appeared, traveling fast, with
roof lights flashing. Its tires screeched as it halted at gate 19
.
Minh, who was nearest, opened a door and jumped inside. The others piled
in after him. The driver, a slim young black man in a brown business
suit, pulled away, driving as swiftly as he had come. Without looking
back he said, "Hiya, guys! I'm Vemon-Public Info
.”