Television news reporting
Despite the enormous satisfaction it is quite possible to derive from the business of putting together complicated news stories for transmission in a very short time, and the knowledge that real editorial power lies ultimately in the hands of deskbound executives, there is not much doubt that the glamour image of the average television newsroom journalist lags far behind that of those who appear in front of the camera. For while no viewer would be expected to name any member of backroom teams, descriptions of nationally known news performers – the ‘talent’ as they are quaintly called in the United States – trip easily off the tongue. So it is hardly surprisingly to find a high proportion of would-be recruits and starry-eyed newcomers to television news hankering after what they believe to be the ideal – to be seen by an audience of millions through news reports made in some exotic, mildly troubled spot on the other side of the world, enjoying what one member of the international reporting set has summed up as ‘a front seat on history’. In short, however unsuitable they might be as performers, they want to be famous.
This desire may be categorized as a perfect example of the greener-grass syndrome, for there are certainly some reporters who would dearly love to exchange their front seats for what they regard as the calmer back rows in the newsroom, pulling the strings. Even experienced television reporters privately admit that, after a while, the apparent glamour and excitement of their lives begins to pall. One described it a taxi-rank kind of job. Some learn sooner than others to detest rushing to catch planes and deadlines, living out of suitcases, eating hurried meals in unhygienic places abroad, witnessing at first hand unspeakable horrors of which the audience may ultimately see very little.
All this is in addition to the real personal dangers involved in covering the stuff of modern television news: war, natural disaster, civil unrest. That professional newspeople doing their job are just as much at risk as the combatants has been proved time and again over the years by events in South-East Asia, the Middle East and Central America. The worst recent example was Indonesia, which was considered to be the most dangerous war zone for the press since Bosnia in the 1990s. At times journalists are deliberately targeted. Even the most ragtag of irregulars, for all their apparent naivety, lack of discipline and modern military equipment, seem to be very well-informed about satellite communications and the power of television to influence their cause for good or ill, and behave accordingly.
Worried news organizations now issue comprehensive guidelines on how to avoid problems. Journalists preparing to report from potential trouble spots are checked for their health, sent on survival training courses run by the military, and are issued with flak jackets and other protective equipment before they get anywhere near the front line. Once in war zones they are expected to share the physical discomfort undergone by the troops whose campaign they are covering, keep their heads down when the shooting starts and still meet their deadlines. Being female brings with it no guarantee of special dispensation.1 Counselling may be necessary at the end of particularly unpleasant or traumatic assignments.
It is not only foreign journalists who are at risk. The New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has warned that the main threat to journalists comes from non-governmental nationalists and religious extremists. When the violence in East Timor was at its height in late 1999 a sign in the lobby of the Hotel Turismo in Dili said it all: ‘Kill all journalists.’
On the positive side, the CPJ’s view was that more journalists were getting into trouble because there were more journalists than ever before serving more news outlets then ever before. Dozens of countries where there was virtually no press freedom ten years ago now have thriving independent broadcasting outlets.
Many reporters are married with family responsibilities, and live with the uneasy feeling that any birthday party, wedding anniversary or other normal domestic occasion may be interrupted by a sudden telephone call commanding them to be on the next flight to somewhere or other. The wife of one former television news general reporter used to say the one thing which unnerved her above all was the sight of the small suitcase containing spare shirts, underwear and shaving kit, which stood permanently in the hall as a daily reminder of the emergency assignment which might come at any time: that, and not knowing whether the news ‘event’ would last a couple of days, a month, or more. Understandably, not all relationships endure that sort of strain.
Of course, no sensible reporter pretends it is all hectic. Most will readily recall hours wasted at airports, in draughty corridors of government or other buildings waiting for events to take place or people to turn up. Sometimes they did not. At other times doors slammed, telephones went dead, the answer was ‘no comment’ or something less polite.
In contrast there are pleasant, well-ordered and interesting assignments during which the reporter enjoys top-class travel, hotels and food, is met with enthusiasm, generous hospitality and a genuine invitation to call again. As a bonus there is membership of a small group of privileged witnesses to history as it happens. ‘Reporting television news is the only profession in which you can fly 5000 miles, drive 200 miles to a town you’ve never visited before, walk round the corner and meet 52 people you know.’2
The result of a job well done may be two or three minutes of good pictures, a visual by-line and an enhanced reputation, yet the dominating factor is that – apart from those occasions where circumstances demand otherwise – the reporter cannot be expected to work alone if the assignment is to be carried out properly. For while the solo newspaper journalist and the radio reporter in the field are as close to the office as the mobile telephone in their pocket, the television news reporter has to work with a camera crew, a satellite or microwave links unit or a television studio linked in some way with home base. Even in these days of compact, mobile equipment, this is bound to put the television news reporter at a disadvantage when it comes to the scrimmages which are inseparable from so much world news-gathering. There is little point in pushing through a crowd of equally pushy newspeople, only to discover that the camera-operator has been left behind struggling with his gear.
Yet to be effective the television reporter cannot be content to hover aloof on the fringe of a story in the hope of eventually being granted special treatment by the other participants. Despite the fact that the obtrusiveness of the camera, microphone and lights makes the team a target for attention and occasional abuse, any reporter who is not up with the herd and sometimes in front of it does not last very long in the job.
And then there is the irony that perseverance and initiative at times work to the reporter’s own detriment. How often it seems the fruits of a good television interview, grabbed against all the odds, are picked up by other newspeople in the pack and, with minimal embellishment, are turned into highly acceptable accounts for their own branches of the news business. At other times during the scrum it is impossible to discover who has asked the questions which are eventually heard on the sound track, but that has not always stopped the critics from blaming television reporters for any crassness, poor grammar or apparent insensitivity.
In the end, though, the reporter for television news is only as effective as his or her last report. There is no glory to be won from the production of a brilliant piece of work which arrives too late for transmission. Time, effort and money are wasted if, at the conclusion of an expensive foreign mission, the tapes are confiscated, never to be seen.
Few television reporters begin their careers as such. Most graduate from newspapers, news agencies or radio, and so lack only a knowledge of television techniques to become successful. Others are recruited for their specialist rather than journalistic experience. Some in both categories fail completely, while others turn out to be competent without ever fully understanding how to construct the well-turned phrase which complements rather than competes with the pictures, and it is not surprising that the best exponents of the reporting art are often those who have served a period as newsroom-based writers.
Leaving aside the matter of journalistic ability, a modicum of which must be assumed, the two basic qualities every reporter must have before being let loose in front of an unsuspecting world seem to be a reasonably personable appearance and clear diction.
In Britain, ideas have undoubtedly changed about what constitutes diction good enough for broadcasting. The general increase in news outlets, particularly since the arrival of local radio in 1967, has allowed all manner of accents and speech impediments to become suddenly more acceptable. Accents don’t matter if the voice is clear and does not contain distractions. However, the cruel truth about television is that even expert journalists can lack credibility in front of the camera in the studio, or on location. The most carefully researched, well-crafted piece of journalism is totally lost to the nine-tenths of an audience fascinated instead by a nervous tic, bobbing Adam’s apple, dental problems or an inability to keep the head straight.
That is not the only difficulty. What some viewers consider to be incorrect pronunciation is guaranteed to induce near apoplexy on the part of the critics, amateur and professional alike. Television critics and newspaper columnists regularly reprimand certain broadcasters, television news reporters included, for sometimes pronouncing the word ‘the’ as ‘thee’. It is worse with place names. Get a town in Wales wrong and you’ll know all about it! Imagine you live there yourself and you hear it totally mispronounced.
Still, at least such errors are capable of being corrected, unlike the expressionless monotones, glottal stops and nasal whines which apparently defy the best efforts of the voice coaches. Little can be done either, it seems, for those with voices so light and high-pitched as to make virtually no impact for broadcasting. A cruel fact is that it is much harder to repair, through training, a difficult voice than it is to improve a person’s appearance.
In contrast, chocolate-box good looks and speech which is too precise are considered equally off-putting, whether found in men or women. Among all except those who mourn the demise of the Hollywood glamour factories, the preference is for people who look and sound as though they lead real lives off screen.
All this merely goes to emphasize how easy it is to be critical. Given the curious chemistry at work in everybody’s likes and dislikes, it is interesting to speculate on the fruits of a computer programmed to produce a template of the reporter most likely to win universal appeal. No doubt that has already been done. But without the benefit of that research, it must all be down to intelligent guesswork and a single, old-fashioned word – style.
The novice reporter quickly discovers there is no short cut on the tortuous route which may eventually lead to general acceptance as a competent television reporter. There is likely to be very little in the way of formal ‘coaching’, as the average news service – a few enlightened training providers excepted – expects its newcomers to pick up everything except the basics as they go along. This is euphemistically described as ‘on-the-job training’, and comes as a complete surprise to reporters who may be expected to master the intricacies of ‘filming’ from their opening assignment.
Once some initial progress has been made, usually after a few painful lessons on the way, the new reporter may be taken aside by a more senior colleague and told gently about some of the most obvious flaws. Some of these might be avoided in the first place by attention to three factors which add to or detract from any on-screen performance: speech, mannerisms and dress.
Everyone who appears regularly in front of the camera develops a natural, personal style of delivery and emphasis, and although this individuality is to be encouraged, the aim in every case must be clarity, with delivery at an even pace. It must be neither slow enough to be irritating nor fast enough for the words to run into each other: no audience is able to take in much of what it is told by an excited reporter speaking at full gallop.
As part of a general tendency to group words and phrases in a manner which sounds odd as well as ungrammatical, one of the most common is the addition of non-existent full stops in the middle of sentences. The cure could not be simpler: sentences which are too long should be broken up into shorter ones.
Fluffed lines and hesitations inevitably mar otherwise fluent performances and perhaps lead to loss of confidence. Preparation is essential. Much of the time reporters are reading what they have written, so they should be familiar with the contents of the script well before they come to record or broadcast live. Rehearse as thoroughly as possible (mumbling in a corner, though a poor substitute, is better than nothing). Learn to ‘project’, with good use of voice inflection and pauses to make the script clearer.
When serious mistakes do occur there is no shame in asking for a second take, for even the most experienced performers expect to trip over their words from time to time.
Practice reading with a tape recorder and be as self-critical as possible when listening to the replay. Where faults seem to persist there is no harm in consulting professional speech therapists, who are able to devise little training routines for the tongue which can only increase the performer’s confidence.
In reporters with easygoing, relaxed personalities, tiny mannerisms may become endearing to the viewer. An occasional frown, raising of the eyebrows or head movement to emphasize a point, probably comes across as genuine involvement in the story at hand. For the rest, stiff, awkward movements, facial contortions and continual passing of tongue between dry lips are among the many tell-tale signs of stage fright. Usually this disappears once confidence comes, although not always. I know of one former reporter who, while completely at ease before the microphone in the radio studio, betrayed his nerves during appearances on television by prefacing almost every sentence with the word ‘well’, even though he knew it did not appear once in the script he had written.
Nervousness is not shared equally between recorded and live performances. In many ways the studio camera seems to magnify mannerisms which, to the consternation of studio staff, reveal themselves only under the strain of live transmission. Some reporters slouch back in their chairs, others tilt like the Leaning Tower or hunch their bodies so that one shoulder is thrust aggressively towards the camera. Possibly worst of all is the fear which has the reporter sitting literally on the seat edge. The result is a close resemblance to a jockey on horseback, except that to the viewer the rider here seems poised to leap out of the set and land in the front room. At least twitching hands are usually hidden by the camera angle.
To all those who suffer from it, this stage fright (no respecter of persons) can become increasingly confidence-sapping. Practice will make the biggest contribution towards overcoming it, especially if backed up by the close scrutiny of recordings of personal performances. The advice of production staff, given and received in the right spirit, will also help the novice to isolate and then dispose of the main problems which, if left to develop, might lead to permanent bad habits.
The medium itself imposes some restriction on dress: the sensitive mechanism inside electronic colour cameras seems unable to digest certain striped or checked patterns which set off disturbing visual hiccups known as strobing, and some colours (notably shades of blue) create ‘holes’ through which studio backgrounds appear. Aside from that, some news-type programmes have recognized how dress contributes as much as set design to the identity they wish to create.
Early morning programmes in particular seem to like the casual look, and some ask anyone who appears, visitors included, to dress accordingly. This fits in with the general requirement for reporters to wear what is in keeping with the programmes they are working for and the stories they are covering. For example, an open-necked bush shirt and denims would be entirely appropriate for covering a desert war, while formal business wear would not, and a studio interview calls for more formal clothes. The important thing for reporters of either sex is to avoid clothes and colours which the majority of viewers would consider inappropriate. For women, there are enough smart, businesslike styles available to preserve femininity without resorting to anything fussy, although almost anything women wear on television seems to be regarded as fair game for criticism and comment from fashion writers and others.
Figure 8.1 Preparing for action. Viewers everywhere have a right to expect professional television journalists to present themselves in ways appropriate to the story they are covering. For the reporter above, this meant a quick grooming in public before facing the camera. The scene was captured by the author on the steps of Sydney Opera House.
As for grooming, it would be unfair to expect the viewing audience to accept uncombed hair or a two-day beard where the reporters’ families would not, except in those situations where such an appearance would be relevant to the story.
Beads, jangling bracelets or long earrings are best avoided, as their movements are inclined to create distraction at the wrong moment, especially if they fall off. Lapel badges, in particular those which just defy identification, are fraught with danger. So is the whole range of ‘club’ ties. The possibility here is that the viewer might miss all that is being said while concentrating hard to see whether the coloured blob three inches below the knot is of real significance or just a gravy stain.
However the dictionary may define the role, the public perception of the reporter – as influenced by fiction and experience born of reading, watching, and listening to news – is most probably that of the journalist who goes out and ‘gets the story’.
But as with so many other areas of television news, reporter duties vary according to the size and importance of the organization being served. In some cases reporters are regarded as the most important editorial animal, responsible for generating their own stories and then seeing them through all the production stages towards transmission; in others every journalist except the editor/producer is categorized as a reporter, no matter how infrequently they leave base; in a few, the general reporter’s scope is much more limited, with daily on-location assignments carried out at the behest of senior editorial staff and planners of news-gathering activities, the final product shaped by newsroom-based writers and producers.
In places, the most noticeable movement has been away from generalists towards correspondents, higher-graded reporters responsible for areas of specialist coverage, the aim being to break away from what has been criticized as television’s tendency to react to events rather than originate material of its own. Although usually under the authority of the news editor, correspondents are regularly afforded time away from the daily grind in which to research and prepare their stories from their own sources.
Any generalists in the team, freelances included, may expect to be given a certain amount of briefing, even if it is limited to the approximate outline any contribution is expected to follow to enable it to take its place within the rest of the newscast. Where an assignment is foreseen as representing only one segment of wider coverage of a single topic, briefing is much more detailed. Good preparation is vital at any time. Given reasonable warning of the nature of an assignment, a diligent reporter will make a virtual fetish of reading up any available background material. On foreign assignments, this may run to dossiers built up from previous visits and include a diversity of facts ranging in importance from currency exchange rates down to the names and localities of reliable laundries.
Travel arrangements vary. To ensure speed off the mark, those news services able to afford it provide individual reporters with bought or leased cars, complete with two-way radio links, or at least contribute fuel and other running costs towards the reporter’s own private transport. Others find it cheaper to run a pool of office cars, perhaps providing chauffeurs to drive them so that reporters can be in and out fast without worrying about finding a parking space.
For those unwilling or unable to match such luxuries, reporters are expected to travel with the camera crews or simply jump in taxis, either paying as they go and recouping the expenditure later, or, as part of official account arrangements with taxi companies, signing the driver’s log at the end of each journey. Some news services operate a variation of the pool system, ferrying all operational staff to and from assignments in the same vehicle, but this has its drawbacks. There are apocryphal tales of news teams stranded miles out of town or at headquarters, officially unable to move until an office car became available, while some government building went up in flames at the hands of rioters.
The changing nature of news-gathering has inevitably had an effect on relationships in the field. Where at one time the news camera-operator was a member of a technical team with a separate sound recordist, the move towards single-crewing has led to greater interdependence between camera-operator and reporter. What has not changed is the ‘managerial’ mantle, which continues to fall on the reporter apart from those occasions when a field producer is involved, and which covers overall responsibility for the shape and content of coverage.
Figure 8.2 Example assignment sheet. A disciplined approach to news-gathering means including contact mobile numbers, rendezvous times and, for some assignments, possible hazards, such as proximity to farm animals.
In between lies a fascinating, ill-defined area of ground which in non-news location work would be covered by a director. For reasons chiefly of cost and mobility, it is generally accepted that television news teams in the field do not need to be accompanied by a separate director, the role being shared by reporter and camera-operator on the spot. So it is probably here that the greatest scope exists for disagreement.
The ideal working compromise consists of a reporter with good journalistic skills and an eye for pictures sketching an outline to be filled in by a sympathetic, experienced camera crew (of however many). Detailed discussion about the best way of achieving the desired end product is advisable before a single shot is recorded. But, in the final analysis, it must be the camera-operator who decides what is technically possible, depending on numerous factors including the available light and distance from the subject.
Once a general storyline has been agreed, the reporter then has to trust the camera-operator to supply what has been promised. Long arguments about the closeness of a close-up or the speed of a pan only hinder the completion of an assignment, and no professional news camera-operator would tolerate a reporter’s demand to look through the camera viewfinder before every shot.
Relationships are therefore important, particularly on some dangerous foreign assignments, where the degree of mutual trust could make all the difference, literally, between life and death. Sometimes reporters and crews will build up personal friendships and respect over a series of difficult, successfully completed assignments. Between others, the chemistry will be all wrong and no amount of attempted peace-making will put it right. To team a lazy reporter with a go-getting camera-operator, or vice versa and still expect the screen to reflect only successful results is wishful thinking. Far better to ensure, where possible, that incompatible factions are kept well apart.
Even when the prospects for cooperation are good, there is no sure recipe for success. The reporter must always remember to be considerate and tactful in the treatment of professional colleagues, resisting any attempts by misguided outsiders to create separate categories of ‘officer’ (reporter) and ‘other ranks’ (crew). Reporters who allow themselves to be swept off to the executive dining room while the camera-operators make do in the factory canteen deserve the inevitable opprobrium.
Equally, the camera-operator must be patient with a nervous or out-of-sorts reporter. After a long, tiring day with very little to eat or drink, it is often tempting to give the thumbs-up to a reporter’s performance known deep down to be flawed, just as the timid reporter, suspicious that something may be wrong, is prepared to accept a personal second best rather than risk offence by encroaching on crew mealtimes.
Getting the story right must come first. As one experienced camera-operator has put it: ‘If the reporter fails, I fail.’
In addition to the constant awareness of deadlines, there also has to be recognition of the need to be economical in the use of tape, not so much for the sake of cost as for the reason that the greater the volume of material, the longer the time necessary for viewing and editing, a task not necessarily always made easier by the addition of time-coding to recordings.
With an assignment completed and unedited pictures received at base, the reporter’s role becomes blurred. One of the main planks of the intake-output system is that it is the editorial staff back at the office who assume the final responsibility for shaping material to include in the newscast. Although the reporter’s guidance may be sought, the theory is that those most closely involved in the creation of items are not necessarily the best placed to make objective judgements about their value. This is apart from the possibility that all manner of developments may have taken place which downgrade the original importance of the assignment.
Yet many reporters, as specialists in their subjects, quite understandably resent being told which are the ‘best’ bits of their interviews, and in some quarters it would be regarded as unthinkable for anyone to come between reporter and story. Modern video packages especially are so dependent on the reporter’s ability to mesh the various pieces together that no producer or newsroom writer, coming cold to a project, would probably be able to understand much of it in any event.
Facilities allowing editing on site and the relay of completed reports have further enhanced the reporter’s control over their own material, and it would be against human nature to expect them to miss any opportunity of doing so.
1. See Anna Sebba (1994). Battling for News: The Rise of the Woman Reporter, Hodder and Stoughton.
2. Michael Cole, formerly of BBC News, quoted in Executive Travel, September 1985.