Posted by chicagomedia.org on May 21, 2009 at 10:09:45:
In Reply to: Warner Saunders--In Two Acts / Act One: The Activist posted by chicagomedia.org on May 21, 2009 at 10:09:07:
Act Two: The Anchorman
Chicago, 1968 - The assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. sparked race riots across the country. President Johnson ordered 5,000 federal troops to Chicago, the New York Times reported, "to combat an insurrection" in Chicago.
At the street level, looters and arsonists were demolishing the city, despite the public threats to shoot them all on the spot. City officials tapped respected community rebel rousers Warner Saunders and journalist Vernon Jarrett to produce a community affairs program to quell the violence. They named the program "Stop."
"They asked, 'So how can we stop you from tearing your place up?'" Saunders recalls. "So they asked us to put on a television show. And we were naive enough to think that the people who stole the television sets were going to bed watching us."
As it turns out, the protestors, the hoodlums, the late-night workers and the radicals alike were watching.
The "Stop" show, Warner gushes, "got the largest rating that they ever had at WLS-TV Channel 7. We brought in the community, all the people who were considered radicals who castigated the system. We must have stayed on for three hours with every radical in town, and this was the first time they saw themselves on television, and it was live. Afterwards, the station asked Vernon and me to do another show. We got our heads together and came up with "For Blacks Only."
The show was a success, and everything was going well until Warner was downsized.
"(The station rep) was grateful but said they had to let me go because they had too many Negroes on air. At the time, Jim Tillman and Betty Odom, were on air, and the three of us was just too much."
Being a community spokesman had its perks, and one big perk was his relationship with WMAQ-TV news anchor Floyd "The Tuna" Kalber. As fate would have it, Warner had always been Floyd's eyes and ears on the street, and when Warner lost the television gig, Kalber gave him a second shot.
"That shows you the power of the news anchor at that time," Warner smiles. "He brought me over to NBC and said, "I want this guy to be the editorial director." I didn't even know what that was. But they compromised."
Ironically, compromise was rarely on Warner's agenda when he locked horns during a heated interview.
In 1970, Channel 44 launched "The Big Show" with Warner and Mary Jane Odell. "Channel 44 was a renegade station," Warner laughs. The show was a perfect fit - and a sleeper hit.
On one episode, in particular, the community organizer shouted down State's Attorney Edward V. Hanrahan, during an interview. Attorney Hanrahan authorized the December 4, 1969, raid on the Black Panthers, killing Fred Hampton.
Hampton was Warner's friend.
Tempers ran hot, and death threats were made. "I ate him alive, and his brother came over to me and said, 'I'm gonna get you.' He said that right in the studio," Warner says. "I told him, 'They didn't stop making guns when they made yours.' I was too stupid to even know - I was so full of piss and vinegar. Fred was my friend, and I had a great deal of respect for Fred. And that was murder" - Saunders' voice trails off.
Ed Morris was the general manager of the station and was blown away when "The Big Show" -- a show the other station folks ignored -- was nominated for an Emmy Award and won.
"We go up to the stage and get our Emmy," Saunders says. "We come back to the table and sit down. And then Ed says, "You're great. But you're fired because we don't have any more money," Warner laughs and shakes his head. "He fired us right at the Emmys."
But Warner Saunders bounced back, as he always did. The tall man blessed with the news anchor prose and the community's trust, always found - or made - his way back to the top of the game.
As a reporter, Warner has documented some of the most precious moments in human history. He's seen change, and 17 years ago, he sat knee-to-knee with Barack Obama, also a community activist, who eventually guided the world's conversation about change.
But all change is not progress, Warner surmises, as he prepares to leave the anchor's seat. Technology is changing the nature of newsgathering and devouring traditional journalism jobs along the way.
"For the companies that own these television stations, the percentage of profit is very low, so they've got to dump the personnel and replace them with machines. It's a frightening prospect, but time marches on, and you've got to recognize that's what is happening. I don't know where the dust will settle and who will emerge as the victor in this. It's a huge fight going on right now."
At the heart of his concern is the fate of bright-eyed minority journalism students and if those who remain in the newsrooms will do their part to nurture them.
"Art Norman just left NBC," Warner says thoughtfully. "Art and I were the ones who always had interns. We have interns all over the United States. We saw that as our duty, and that's what we did."
Today, Warner Saunders is crafting his third persona - something a little less public to address the pathology of arrested development within disenfranchised communities.
Warner wants to know, how does one solve the riddle of the circus elephant?
"They tie a little stake to a circus elephant and nail the stake in the ground. The elephant believes he can't go anywhere. Of course, the elephant could easily pull the stake out and go, but it doesn't move. If believes it must stay there, that's all that counts."
Saunders continues, "I've been in the business from the radical guy on the street running with gangs to Civil Rights to television and I've seen a lot over those 40 years. We're asking the wrong questions. And we've got to think about asking different questions to find the kinds of responses that may work."
Warner Saunders wants to convince the circus elephant to move.