Typecast
In the trenches of the control room, during an evening newscast. Even while wearing a groovy Tommy Bahama shirt, I’m in “game mode” and focused on the job ahead of me.
Let me answer a few questions thrown my way over the last several weeks.
Of course.
Working on it.
They should’ve won.
I’ve thought about it.
It stinks.
I think it went alright.
The overlying answer to these answers is “No, I didn’t drop off the face of the planet.” There was so much in June which commanded my attention. I won’t get into too many of the details here, but I will say this past month has reinforced me on where I need to be.
That’s probably been one of the main points of my life - even as a child. I was never one who fit into any group or category. The line I’ve used to describe my early years is “At school, I didn’t know that many kids … but, all the kids knew who I was.” This is good and bad. The good is there was notoriety and it was hard for someone to not remember my presence.
The flip side is it was hard to carve out a niche for myself when others already see me in a certain light. Growing up, you’re branded a certain type of child by your peers and you can’t seem to shake it off. The 5th grade offered a glimpse of that. In a school talent show, I did a lip sync of the famous 1950’s song “Chantilly Lace”. Even still, I have some people I grew up with remember that public display.
Yet, I can’t stand hearing that song today. I was typecast as this carnival-like showman and I had an uneasiness to it.
That feeling really didn’t hit me until near the end of my time at KUSA in Denver. It remains, so far, the apex of my career in daily journalism and I have many friends still there. I, however, remember one day one of my superiors said to me “Jesse, when you’re live at 4 or 5 and have the fans around you, this newsroom stops.” It was that same feeling again. Was I being appreciated for being a journalist or as a ringleader of a circus?
Back at my desk at the end of another evening shift. Even the screensaver reminds me of my ultimate prize. The mantra on top of my monitor is a headline from my all-time favorite editorial in “The Onion.”
It wasn’t until I came back home to Eau Claire, Wisconsin in 2015 that I really got it. There’s a balance we do in this profession of being “the star” and the trusted voice. That’s probably why I was able to plop into any role - reporter, anchor, producer, etc. - and get the job done. Like a utility infielder in baseball, I can do whatever was needed and have a decent result.
Even so, the downside is never becoming proficient at a specific task. When I was at KUSA, I would marvel - and still do - at the amazing storytellers there, the top-flight producers, and the powerful photographers the station employed. As I said in a previous post, I would stand in that newsroom, look around, and ask “How in the hell did I ever get here?” The short answer to that question is “My versatility,” but by doing everything, I was great at nothing.
Only now, more than 20 years into this career in daily journalism am I hone my focus on one area of expertise.
Yes, I was a long-time reporter - news and sports. Yes, I can hold my own on the anchor desk. Yet, it’s now as a producer where I am sharpening my teeth and have felt the most at-home in this stage of my life. In another TBD post, I talked about my first-ever time in a television studio. It wasn’t the vanity of being in front of the camera that won me over as a 7-year old kid. It was all of the work which the viewers didn’t see. That’s where, to that kid, the magic occurred.
More than 30 years later, I’m still one who enjoys getting his hands into the muck and crafting a production.
My profession of television journalism is unique, in that many people miss or don’t realize all that goes into a finished product. This past weekend, I was at a family get-together and, even here, I had to reassure people I hadn’t been fired. They had grown accustomed to constantly seeing me as a reporter and fill-in anchor. So, when I vanished, it was like I was dead to the world.
“Nope, I’m now just that man behind the curtain,” I said, in reference to “The Wizard of Oz.”
That’s probably the best way I can describe being a television producer. You are not going to have the vanity which comes from being in front of the camera. The flip side is you can maintain a level of anonymity in your personal life.
The Garbage Plate - a nice, filling weekend breakfast at the old watering hole. This has to be the most bang-for-your-buck meal you can get in town!
Back in my Denver days, I remember sitting at a diner one Sunday morning. I was still in my sportcoat and tie, after anchoring the “Prep Rally” segment on the morning show. Before I could get my order in, the man bussing tables came over and said hello. This was common as - and, I’m not far from exaggerating this - much of the state of Colorado knew who I was and what I did for a living.
Ok, my Ron Burgundy moment has passed.
On this particular Sunday morning. Well, as I started to enjoy my meal, he came back to my table and was eventually sitting in my booth. I mean, there’s flattery … and then, there’s being intrusive.
This is a lesson to those younger people who get entranced by the “glitz and glamour” of being on local TV news. Yes, you have a fair amount of notoriety, but you also get … well, people wanting to sit with you and share their stories while you’re eating eggs and sausage.
I once had a job where I worked eight or nine hours in a day and didn’t know what I had accomplished when I went home that night. In local TV news, the start, middle, and finish are seen at a short-term level. I have something each night which says “Here are the fruits of my labor.” To that, there’s also the gratification of knowing I can do it all again tomorrow - wipe that slate clean and try to do better the next time out.
A wonderful sunset recently at La Casa Horne.
My life has always been filled with the desire to find the next challenge, that next quest which puts my talents to the test. For me, there needs to be missions in life that have a tangible start, middle, and finish. So, if you see me out and about, don’t typecast me as someone who’s beyond his years or someone who’s a never-ending master of ceremonies.
I am Jesse and cast me in the light which makes all of my qualities work the best for you.
