TWELVE CASE STUDIES IN RADIO FIND
TELEVISION NEWS DEPARTMENT
MANAGEMENT AND POLICY

Thesis for the Degree of M. A.
MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY
BRIAN CI RUBLEIN
1968

nit-.513

 

- ng-fi- w e v»
1 Iq“*‘f3~£’¢ifi‘fi
.
{a Igga 2'. fl.“ I? I“. 2";
' fiiztfifi': “:1 ’ f“ ? fl}? ' 1 m
. - 4.7%... ".39.: ’Ifl‘l

ate

 

Ueeivemgrgy
K;

x...“ w

       

V nmomc Iv
HMS & SMS'
”9K BINDER? INC.

  

 

 

 

 

RETURNING MATERIALS:
}V1631_J Place in book drop to
LJBRARJES remove this checkout from

w your record. FINES wiTT
be charged if book is

 

 

 

returned after the date
stamped beIow.

 

 

 

 

ABSTRACT

TWELVE CASE STUDIES IN
RADIO AND TELEVISION NEWS
DEPARTMENT MANAGEMENT AND POLICY

by Brian C. Rublein

This thesis consists of twelve case studies in tele—
vision and radio news department management and policy. The
cases are all based on actual situations that confronted
various news directors in the day-to-day pursuit of their
duties. The material for the case studies was obtained in
conversations and interviews held by the author with twelve
different news directors.

The first case study presents some problems of a news
director when he is faced with a too-small staff and Operating
budget. Case two examines the situation faced by a news dir-
ector at a UHF station who is trying to attract viewers with
VHF television sets. The third case presents the problem of
a news director ordered by the station owners to omit stories
of racial conflict from all newscasts. Case four offers the
unique problems of a small news department whose primary
competition is the newspaper that owns the station. In case
five, the news director of a major-market television station

must organize a news bureau at a station that, in the past,

had de-emphasized news. The question of whether or not to
editorialize on a controversial matter of local community
interest is discussed in the sixth case.

A radio news director trying to decide whether or
not to initiate a full-time correspondent in the state
capitol provides the basis for case seven. Case eight pre-
sents the problems faced by a man who serves as both radio
and television news director at university-owned educational
stations. Case nine asks how a newly hired news director at
a rock station can compete with his former employer, the t0p-
rated news department at a middle-of-the—road popular music,
classical music and sports station. The tenth case presents
the problems of a news director at an all-Negro radio station
who wants to make the news relevant to the black community.
The eleventh case is the story of a medium-market news dir-
ector who, after more than thirty years in radio, must decide
whether or not to stay in radio work or accept a lucrative
business offer from outside the industry. The final case
examines the problems of a man who must begin a news bureau
at a rock station in a major city.

A brief history of the case study method is also in-
cluded in this thesis, as well as a description of the metho-

dology used in preparing the case studies, and some remarks

about the applicability of this type of thesis for students

who hope to enter the field of radio and television news.

é/mwf’

TWELVE CASE STUDIES IN
RADIO AND TELEVISION NEWS
DEPARTMENT MANAGEMENT AND POLICY

BY

Brian C. Rublein

A THESIS

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Department of Television and Radio

1968

Accepted by the faculty of the Department of
Television and Radio, College of Communication Arts, Michigan
State University, in partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the Master of Arts degree.

Veda/Md fl/ \

Director of Thesis

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my wife, Garnet, who provided the impetus, and

to my advisor, Dr. Thomas Baldwin, who offered suggestions.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE
I . INTRODUCTION. C C O O O O O C . O O O O O O O 1
II. DISCUSSION OF METHODOLOGY . . . . . . . . . . 6

III. CASES

1. An undersized staff and budget. . . . . 9
2. Attracting a VHF television audience. . 19
3. Coverage of racial stories. . . . . . . 28
4. Competing with a newspaper. . . . . . . 35

5. Organization of a television news
bureau. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

6. Deciding when to editorialize . . . . . 51

7. Beginning a state capitol news
bureau. O O O O O O C O O O O O O O O 60

8. Problems at educational stations. . . . 67

9. Reorganizing a radio news
department. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

10. Covering news for the Negro
community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79

11. Possible shortcomings in news work. . . 84

12. Beginning a news bureau at a rock
station . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

IV. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS . . . . . . . . . . . 99

BIBLIOGRAPI-IY. O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O 102

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

The use of the case study as a teaching aid for
education dates back to the years following the American
Revolution. In 1788, the Medical Society of New Haven,
Connecticut issued a volume entitled "Cases and Observa-
tions by the Medical Society of New Haven County."1 The
publication of this book marked the initial use of the case
study, a method of education that would become commonplace
in medical schools throughout the country in the years to
follow.

New Haven was also the site of the first use of the
case study in another important academic area: law. In
1870, the president of Harvard University asked Christopher
Langdell, one of three professors on the Harvard Law School's
faculty, to reorganize the school's curriculum; the initia-
tion of the use of the case study was a direct result of

2
Langdell's efforts. In 1871, Langdell wrote of why he

 

1D. Henryetta Sperle, The Case Method Technique in
Professional Training (New York: Bureau of Publications,
Teacher's College, Columbia University, 1933), p. 7.

2Ibid., p. 3.

 

began to use the case study method of instruction:

.... I was called upon to consider the sub—

ject of teaching .... in connection with a large
school, with its routine and daily duties. I
was expected to take charge of a large class of
pupils, meet them regularly from day to day, and
give them systematic instruction ... To accomplish
this successfully, it was necessary, first, that
the efforts of the pupils should go hand in hand
with mine....; secondly, that the study thus re-
quired of them should be of the kind from which
they might reap the greatest and most lasting
benefit; thirdly, that the instruction should be
of such a character that the pupils might at least
derive a greater advantage from attending it than
from devoting the same time to private study.
How could this threefold object be accomplished?
Only one mode occurred to me... and that was, to
make a series of cases, carefully selected from
the book of reports, the subject alike of study
and instruction.3

By the early 1900s, the Langdell method of case study instruc-
tion was being used by a majority of law schools in this
country.

In 1908, Dean Edwin F. Gay of the Harvard School of
Business incorporated the use of case studies in business
instruction after viewing the success of the teaching method
in the Harvard Law School.4

Wallace B. Donham became the Dean of the Harvard

Business School in 1919. He provided the impetus for a more

 

3Ibid., p. 5.

4Malcolm P. McNair and Anita C. Hersum, The Case
Method at the Harvard Business School (New York: McGraw—
Hill Book Company, 1954), p. 25.

efficient and extensive use of case studies.5 In the years
since Dean Donham's reign, the Harvard Business School has
continued to expand and refine its use of the case study
method.6
How is the case study used in classroom instruction?
According to Charles Gragg, the case study provides a
"record of a business issue" that "actually has been faced
by . . . executives." Gragg states that the case is offered
to students along with the "facts, Opinions and prejudices"
that faced the executive when he made his decision. The
case is then analyzed and discussed by students, in attempts
to arrive at their own conclusions.
Further insight into the use of the case study method
is offered by Bollinger and Day:
The cases .... do not necessarily lead to

a single "right" answer upon which the class

and the instructor are expected to reach unani-

mous agreement. In fact, some of the discussions

most conducive to the deve10pment of penetrating

analysis and balanced judgment may at first leave

the student with a feeling of frustration, since

no uniformity Of class Opinion may have resulted.

The purpose of the case has been served if it
provokes intelligent discussion, independent

 

51bia., p. vii.
6Ibid., p. viii.

7Ibid., p. 6.

thinking, and progress toward the ability to
make sound, well—considered decisions.

Under the direction of Professor Leo Martin, the
Chairman of the Department of Television and Radio at Michi—
gan State University, management students have made some use

of the case study method. At this date, Egli,9 Baker,10

Carson,11

and Schmeling12 have provided case studies based
on discussions with various broadcast executives.

All of the case study work completed thus far in

Michigan State University's Department of Television and

 

8Lynn L. Bollinger and John S. Day, Management of

New Enterprises, A Casebook of Problems on the Establishment
and Qperations of New Businesses (Homewood, Illinois:

 

Richard D. Irwin, Inc., 1954), p. 3-4.

9Richard Alvin Egli, "Eleven Case Studies in Broad-
casting Management Based On Actual Station Problems" (unpub-
lished Master's thesis, Department of Television and Radio,
Michigan State University, 1965).

10Robert Hunt Baker, "Fourteen Case Studies in Radio
Station Management Based on Actual Station Problems" (unpub-
lished Master's thesis, Department of Television and Radio,
Michigan State University, 1966).

11Robert Prescott Carson, "Twelve Case Studies in

Radio Station Management Based on Actual Station Problems"
(unpublished Master's thesis, Department of Television and
Radio, Michigan State University, 1967).

12David Gene Schmeling, "Twelve Broadcast Management
Case Studies Drawn from Actual Television and Radio Station
Situations" (unpublished Master's thesis, Department of
Television and Radio, Michigan State University, 1967).

Radio has consisted of material directed at students of
broadcast management. This thesis represents a departure
from that pattern.

It is the belief of the author, that the case study
method can also be useful in other areas of television and
radio study. This thesis attempts to use the case study
method in one of those areas: it presents actual problems
and situations that might conceivably be faced by someone
who enters the field of television or radio news and public

affairs.

CHAPTER II

DISCUSSION OF METHODOLOGY

The information in each of the case studies in this
thesis was Obtained through a personal interview conducted
by the author. In each instance, the initial contact with
the news directors interviewed was made by telephone. At
that time, the nature of the prOposed interview was explained.
Then, an appointment was made.

It should be stated that all Of the news directors
contacted were willing to co-Operate (although with one of
these men, arranging a convenient interview time was to later
prove impossible). All told, fourteen different news dir-
ectors were interviewed, and the case studies from twelve
of the men were subsequently used in this thesis. Interest-
ingly enough, the interviews that did not provide enough
material to serve as the basis for an adequate case study
were the first two conducted. Rather than reflect on the
two men interviewed, this fact would seem to prove that the
author learned, as a result of his lack of success with the
first two men questioned, how to conduct the interviews

that followed in order to gain useful information.

6

All of the interviews were conducted in the news
directors' offices. Even though many of the peOple inter-
viewed wanted suggestions of problem areas in which the
author was interested, he found it better not to try to
lead the interviewee into specific topics of conversation.
If the subject proved to be reticent, the two men simply
talked about the news bureau until one aspect of its Opera-
tion seemed to suggest itself as being unique and well—
suited for a case study. That particular area was then
explored at length, with it often being necessary for the
author to ask questions.

Extensive notes were taken at each interview, and
these notes later served as the basis for the case study
that was written. In all instances, the essential elements
of the case were not tampered with; however, certain basic
facts about the station, the city in which it was located,
and the news director were changed so that all Of these
elements would be anonymous in the final case.

After each case was written, a COpy was sent to the
interviewee, along with a release form giving the inter-
viewee's permission to use the case study for educational
purposes and as a part of the thesis. A letter of thanks

accompanied each COpy of a case that was sent out, and in

each letter it was explained that if the subject of the
study objected to any portion of the case he received, he
could ask for it to be changed before he signed the release.
Ten of the twelve cases were accepted without change, and
the changes requested in the remaining two cases were Of a
minor nature.

The cases used in the thesis do not provide answers
to the problems they pose. Instead, the student is given a
great amount Of information about the aspects of each par-
ticular case. It is hOped that this information might
inspire discussions and a variety of approaches to the solu-
tion of each problem. There are no "right" or "wrong"
answers. In each case the student has the essential infor-
mation available about the circumstances surrounding the
problem that was available tO the news director when he made

his decision.

CHAPTER III

CASES

CASE 1

Lou Willis stared at the new station budget lying
on his desk. "Damnit," he thought to himself, "no extra
money for the news department, and no money for promotion.
How in the world do they expect us to compete with the other
stations when they won't give us anything to work with?‘I

The problem facing Lou Willis was not entirely unex-
pected. Willis had been appointed news director Of WOOO—TV
immediately upon graduation from college. His task at that
time had been to build a competitive news Operation almost
from scratch; now, more than a year later, as he sat in his
small office, staring at the new station budget, the immen-
sity of the problem confronting him was driven forcefully
home once again.

Just eighteen months before, Lou Willis had lived in
a small, walk—up apartment on Hill Street in Ann Arbor. His
undergraduate college career was drawing to a close, and
Willis was spending considerable time trying to decide where
to go to graduate school. His undergraduate minor was his-
tory, but he had decided to study radio and television in
graduate school. He was the news director Of the campus
radio station, and for three summers had worked as a staff

announcer at WOOO-TV in his home town.

10

Shortly before graduation, the offer of a job came
from WOOO-TV. Earlier that year the station had been sold.
Under the old owners, W000, even though an ABC affiliate,
had a negligible news Operation. The only news offered on
the station had been a ten minute wire summary read at
11:00 every night by an announcer.

The new owners decided they wanted a full time news
department. Willis had been recommended by other peOple at
the station who knew he was about to graduate, and more im-
portant, wanted a career in news work. So, because of the
recommendations, and also because of his knowledge of the
market and experience, Lou Willis, at age 22, was Offered
the news directorship of WOOO—TV, a station with a potential
audience of more than half a million peOple. It did not
take long for Willis to decide to pass up graduate school
in favor of the job.

Willis began work the day after graduation. The
challenge he faced was immense. As he sat in his Office
and thought back on the events of the last year and a half,
Willis felt justifiably proud of the gains he had made.

Yet two hard facts stood out from the budget in front of
him: no extra money for the news Operation, and no pro-

motion during the next year. Willis wasn't naive enough

11

to eXpect to get all the money and promotion he wanted at

one time. But he certainly had expected the amount of

money and promotion channeled toward the news department

to grow at a slow, but steady pace. He was fully aware

that building a respectable news department took time and
patience as well as money and promotion. "All the time and
patience in the world aren't worth much though," thought
Willis, "without a realistic Operating budget, and a viewing
public that is aware Of what you are attempting to accomplish."

Willis began to review the events that had taken
place since he came to WOOO—TV. Somewhere in his past
activity there possibly was an answer or a clue; an answer
that might enable him to find out what, if anything, he had
done wrong. Or perhaps a clue as to what action he could
take in the future.

When he had first come to WOOD-TV, Lou Willis had
decided upon somewhat of a long range plan for establishing
a news department. He was determined that since there had
been no news department at all in the past, he first had
to capture a small share of the news audience for W000, and
from that time on, grow.

It was necessary for Willis to become completely

familiar with the competition. There were two other stations

12

in the local market, one affiliated with CBS, and the other
with NBC. They divided the audience for their newscasts
almost exactly in half.

The CBS station had an eleven—man staff. Its approach
to news tended to be sensationalistic. The station did not
editorialize, but its presentation Of news was frequently
very biased.

The other station had an eight-man news department.
Five of the eight men were also announcers, and as such, had
union contracts that required them to spend a certain pro-
portion of each day in the studio. This station was owned
by the city's only newspaper, and depended a great deal on
the paper for news it used on the air. In years past its
news bureau had been Operated by excellent men. Now, how-
ever, its newscasters were lackluster and its news program-
ming was very conservative.

Based on the knowledge that one of his competitors
was sensationalistic and the other not very interesting to
watch, Willis decided that the best approach he could take
would be to build a news department that, from its inception,
would be known for its integrity and factual reporting. No
less important, he also hOped to be able to sell WOOO's

newscasters as "personalities", reporters who would eventually

13

attract viewers because of their reputations as on—the-air
reporters.

During the time Willis was determining his staff
needs, WOOO continued with its ten-minute news summary at
11:00 p.m. Willis, however, took the place of the announcer.
This single newscast continued from June to September.
During that time, Willis analyzed his news department needs.
He decided that he needed a crew of five men to effectively
cover the market. The station owners gave him enough money
to hire one man. Willis returned to Ann Arbor and hired a
man he had become acquainted with while going to school.

In late September, W000 initiated a 5:30 p.m. week—
day newscast, and it expanded its 11:00 p.m. news from ten
minutes to one half an hour. The 5:30 news was fifteen
minutes long, and it went right into the quarter hour net—
work news show. For the expanded 11:00 broadcast, the
station added separate sports and weather segments. For
sports, W000 hired a part-time sports man. The 11:00 p.m.
news was in direct competition with the city's other two
stations. The 5:30 news, however, was thirty minutes
earlier than both competitors.

Willis' 11:00 p.m. newscast was only a partial

success. From the beginning, the news segment of the

14

program was sponsored. However, by the following February,
neither sports nor weather had been sold. And even though
Sponsored, the 11:00 p.m. news was capturing only five per
cent of the audience.

In late February, WOOO decided to remove itself from
the highly competitive 11:00 p.m. news market. The station
also drOpped its part-time sports man and eliminated the
weather portion of the broadcast.

One week earlier, Willis had approached management
with the idea of putting on a fifteen-minute news show later
at night, perhaps from 11:45 to midnight. Whereas the 5:30
news covered local and regional events along with a brief
mention of sports and weather, the later program might stress
national and international news, and also touch briefly up—
on sports and weather. WOOO had no network program at 11:00
p.m., so Willis came up with the idea of starting a movie
at that time, cutting into the movie at 11:45, and then
finishing the film after the news at midnight. The news-
cast could be called "News Break".

The statiOn management went along with Willis, and
the gamble paid off. At the next rating period, WOOO-TV
had 19% of the audience for "News Break". The following

spring's ratings went even higher -— up to 31%.

15

Encouraged by the public acceptance of its gamble,
WOOO decided to try a morning program with Willis and a
woman serving as co-hosts. The program began in June, and
was divided into four parts: two news segments (one
national and one international) along with two interview
segments.

With the advent of the morning program, Willis
switched to the day shift. He began to work both the
morning show and the 5:30 news. The 11:45 "News Break" was
left Open. And Willis had to work out some way to fill the
slot.

The station's second newsman could not do the late
broadcast, because he was needed during the day. He served
as a photographer-reporter, and did inserts and sound-on-
film reports for the station's two newscasts.

However, WOOD-TV had a booth announcer who wanted
to be a newsman. In the past he had been a newscaster for
an area radio station. Considering the circumstances he
was a fairly logical choice to serve as the next WOOO news—
caster. The station owners did not want to hire him as a
newsman though, because they would then have to hire another
booth announcer. This decision caused problems for Willis.

The announcer's union contract forbade his doing any news

16

work or preparation of news COpy during his booth shift.
The only route open to Willis was to decide to have the
11:45 news written by one of the station's producer-
directors, and read on the air by the announcer.

From that time on, WOOO-TV's news department con-
sisted of two full-time newsmen, an announcer who read COpy
prepared by someone else, and occasionally two stringers
who filed stories from nearby counties. As he sat in his
office, Willis had to admit that his news operation gave
the appearance of being much larger than it was; he was well
aware though, that the staff was too small to do an adequate
job of covering the market. And just as important, it was
too small to even begin to compete on an equal basis with
the other two local stations.

Since coming to WOOO-TV, Willis had constantly
attempted to get the station to promote the news department.
In order to compete, he knew that peOple had to be made
aware of WOOO-TV's news broadcasts. Unfortunately, virtually
no promotion had been done for news. The station's promo-
tion department was too small to work effectively for the
news department. Too much time and effort had to be spent
working for the sales and programming departments.

W000-TV did have occasional cross-promotional

l7

agreements with a local radio station, but news was never
mentioned in those spots. In addition, the station's owners
refused to advertise in the local newspaper because it
owned one of the competing stations. Such advertising,
WOOO's owners reasoned, would only fatten the coffers of
the Opposition.

As was the case with the new budget, Willis knew
the lack of promotion was due to the station's owners.
They had come to WOOO-TV from a small station in New Mexico.
The situation there had been considerably different from
that at W000. In New Mexico, all of the competing stations
had begun at the same time. The market was small, and a
great deal of promtion had not been necessary. Willis
traced the lack of money for his department to the fact that
WOOO's owners had had a one-man news department in New Mexico.
At that, their news Operation had won several wire service
awards. There was no doubt but that the men who controlled
WOOO—TV were accustomed to a small news department and a non—
competitive market.

Six months earlier, Willis had been offered a job
as a reporter for one Of the competing stations. He had
turned it down. Now, he could not help but wonder if he had

made the correct decision. Perhaps he had gone as far as he

18

could with WOOO.

It was absolutely necessary to have a larger staff
and some effective, imaginative promotion. Willis knew he
could not compete with the city's other stations with a small
staff; in fact, he realized that he could not even do an ade-
quate job Of news coverage with a small staff. Without pro—
motion, however, WOOO would never get a sizable audience,
even if it did have a big staff. It had long been apparent
to Lou Willis that active promotion could serve the news de—
partment well, even while it was small. Promotion would make
peOple aware of the department's existence; it would let them
know that WOOO was building a news Operation. And it could
also make the viewers aware of the station's newscasters.

Willis realized that he would get no additional money
during the period covered by the budget on his desk. But
somehow between now and the next budget, he had to convince
management Of the need for a larger staff and more promotion.
He knew that WOOO's news department had arrived at a road-
block. Without additional money and promotion it could not
continue on, but would be forced to stand still.

The future direction of WOOO-TVZs news department
depended entirely on the approach Lou Willis made to the
station owners. Somehow, he had to arrive at a decision, a

plan Of action. And he had to do it soon.

19

CASE 2

"That's the story, Mike. I hate to dump this in
your lap while you're still getting used to the Operation,
but I really think it would be to our benefit to try to
reach some conclusions fairly soon."

The man speaking was Les Beamer, the station manager
of WXXX radio and television. He was seated at his desk,
and across from him sat Mike Ditmer, the recently appointed
news director of WXXX.

Beamer continued. "We've been sitting on this situ—
ation too long without making any decisions. What I'd like
to have you do is come up with some possible alternatives
within a day or so.....before my meeting with the station
owners in three days. Then we can sit down and talk about
them before my meeting,-and maybe I can get some sort of a
ball rolling with the owners by the end of the week."

Mike Ditmer stood up. "All right, Les. I'll see
what I can do. It's a pretty unusual problem. I don't
think the answer will come easily."

Beamer grinned. "DO they ever?"

"I guess not."

As he closed the door to iLes Beamer's Office and

started back to the newsroom, Mike Ditmer's mind was filled

20

with thoughts. The situation Beamer had just described was
certainly unique. And it would certainly call for an early
test of his abilities as a news director.

Although he had been at WXXX for five years, Mike
Ditmer had been appointed news director only two weeks pre-
viously. The man he succeeded had been hired away by a
television station in Chicago, and Ditmer, to be sure, was
still "feeling his way", still getting used to his new posi-
tion as head of a twelve-man news department.

WXXX was located in a mid-western industrial city of
more than 200,000 peOple. All told, WXXX television's
coverage area reached a total population of 475,000. And
it was those 275,000 peOple outside of the city, yet within
the coverage area, that had been the basis of the discussion
moments before in Les Beamer's office.

The situation faced by WXXX TV was very unusual.
When the station had begun Operating in 1954, there had been
no VHF channels available, so WXXX had received a UHF allo-
cation. For the same reason, the city's two other television
stations had also been given UHF channels. All of the area's
surrounding communities, as, indeed, most of the country,
had VHF TV .

Since its inception WXXX had been aware that it was

21

not attracting a very large prOportion of its potential
audience, and it was well aware Of the reason, too. Very
simply, the peOple in the area surrounding WXXX were in
the habit Of watching VHF, and not UHF television. There
were two cities of more than 450,000 people to the south
and west; those cities had VHF channels, and most peOple
in the surrounding areas were able to watch stations from
one of the two cities. As Les Beamer had said in his
Office, it was almost as if there were a wall surrounding
the city in which WXXX was located. The peOple within the
wall were used to watching UHF TV; to those living outside
the wall, UHF television was something rarely even considered.
For years, WXXX TV had wanted to be able to attract
some of the viewers located outside its immediate coverage
area. The station would be in a strong position to sizably
increase its audience if it could somehow find a way to
get the VHF viewers in the outlying areas to turn to UHF,
and WXXX TV. The moment Mike Ditmer had become news dir-
ector, an idea had begun to form in Les Beamer's mind, an
idea that might possibly be able to attract VHF viewers.
Beamer's idea was intricately tied in with the news depart-
ment and its news director's concepts regarding the WXXX TV

news Operation.

22

Under the man who had preceded Mike Ditmer, WXXX's
news coverage had been essentially local in nature; the
station's eight newsmen and four photographers had rarely
been sent out of the metropolitan area served by WXXX.
Mike Ditmer envisioned the Operation of his news department
in a different way, however; to Ditmer, the 200,000 people
living in the metrOpOlitan area were not the only ones who
should be served by WXXX news. There were also over a
quarter of a million peOple living outside the city, and
Ditmer firmly believed that some attempt should be made to
serve those peOple, too. Admittedly, almost all of those
peOple owned VHF receivers. Just the same, Ditmer was by
no means convinced that WXXX television could not reach
them. Certainly, he felt that WXXX news had a duty to at
least try to reach some of those peOple outside the metro-
politan area.

As news chief, Mike Ditmer had the goal of having
his bureau offer the most comprehensive news coverage
possible. And to Ditmer, making an attempt to reach a
majority of his potential audience was a long step toward
that goal.

As the station manager, Les Beamerasaw things

from a slightly different point of view. Of course, he

23

recognized the prestige and competitive necessity of having
a tOp-flight news department. Beamer's main concern, how-
ever, was the overall Operation of WXXX. He was well aware
of the large audience already possessed by WXXX TV; he was
also painfully aware of the size of the audience that his
station did not reach. For in hard figures, the audience
not reached by WXXX TV was bigger than the audience reached.
The thought of the advantage to be gained by getting those
people in outlying areas with VHF receivers to change over
to UHF to watch WXXX made Les Beamer smile. If the feat
could be accomplished, his station would gain a very sub-
stantial edge on the two other local television stations.

Mike Ditmer made himself a cup of instant coffee at
his secretary's desk and went into his own Office to think
about the situation. Both men, Ditmer and Beamer, had
agreed that the news department was the most logical way
to try to reach the seemingly unattainable audience of VHF
viewers. To the ways of thinking of both men, the VHF
set owners might watch WXXX on UHF if WXXX had a news Opera-
tion that supplied them with information about their own
communities.

Most of the surrounding pOpulation was made up Of

relatively small towns and rural communities, located in

24

two states. There was one outlying city, in the same
state, with a population of 73,000. The city had one news-
paper, one AM radio station, and no television stations.
For many years the competition between this city
and the one in which WXXX was located had been intense.
The other community was the county seat for a neighboring
county with a pOpulation of more than 210,000 peOple. In
recent years, the pOpulation of the larger county had shown
a steady decline, while the growth rate Of the smaller
county had steadily risen. Moreover, the community Of
73,000 had been chosen two years before as the site for a
large automobile manufacturing plant. The uneasy feeling
between the city in which WXXX was located and the city in
the next county had grown during the weeks the automobile
manufacturer was choosing the location for its plant. The
competition for the factory had been intense, with many
accusations of unfair tactics hurled back and forth during
the time the two communities were courting the auto company.
A sizable portion of the potential outlying audi-
ence was not even in the same state. More than 50,000
viewers were in a bordering state. The people in that state
also had VHF receivers, so the problem faced by WXXX in

trying to attract viewers there was the same as in its own

25

state. One important factor had shown up in audience sur-
veys, however: a considerably higher percentage of people
in the neighboring state were willing to change from VHF

to UHF TV, than were willing to change in WXXX's own state.

Essentially, those were the facts with which Mike
Ditmer had to work. To get part of the outlying audience,
he would simply have to have his news department pay more
attention to events happening in locations away from the
metrOpOlitan area. Exactly how to go about it was an
entirely different matter.

Mike Ditmer could not help but wonder if he could
attract viewers from all of WXXX's outlying areas at once.
He knew there were differing groups of peOple in the sur-
rounding communities; and of course, those different groups
of peOple had varied interests. What would be news to some
viewers might not be news to others. Ditmer thought his
potential audience might be divided into two groups: those
peOple gathered around the nearby county seat, and those
peOple in the border state. The border state lay directly
east of WXXX; the county seat was almost directly to the west.

Ditmer wondered if he could substantially increase
the audience by just assigning his local newsmen to cover

more stories in outlying areas. Or would it be better to

26

simply have one man on his staff serve as a roving reporter
who would do nothing but cover stories in the same state
and in the nearby state? If such a man were designated,
would he be able to attract an audience? Or would he be
moving around too much to allow any sizable group of peOple
to get used to watching WXXX news in order to find out in-
formation about themselves?

Another distinct possibility for Ditmer was to Open
up another news bureau. It seemed Obvious to Ditmer that
such a bureau would have to be in either the next state or
at the nearby county seat, for these were the two outlying
areas with the most homogeneous pOpulations. The potential
viewers in the next state might be easier to attract because
they showed more of a prOpensity to turn to UHF television.
Yet at the same time, the potential audience in its own
state was much bigger for WXXX, even if, admittedly, it was
also more hostile.

If he did decide to Open a bureau in an outlying
area, how would it be run? And by whom? Would he assign a
local man to move to the bureau, or should he ask Les Beamer
to hire a new man, someone from the particular area in which
the bureau was located, to run the Operation?

Unfortunately, time was one element not available to

27

Mike Ditmer; all of these questions would have to be an-
swered swiftly. And Ditmer was fully aware of the weight
his judgment would carry in relation to Les Beamer's final
decision. In the end, he knew the problem was his to work
out; in the end, he realized that he would be the one held

mainly responsible for the final results.

28
CASE 3

Somehow, none of it seemed possible. As Ed Brockman
eased his car slowly around the corner and began to drive
up rain-swept Main Street Hill, he could not help but turn
the events of the last few days over in his mind. He thought
of the recent Thornton affair and of the subsequent trouble
it had caused; also of events that had happened long ago --
big stories he had covered, and upon occasion, brOken.

There had been many such stories, too, through the
years, for Ed Brockman was a good reporter. He had been at
KCCC radio for more than 24 years, eighteen of them as news
director. Since 1954, when the television station began, he
had also served as television news director. Under Ed Brock-
man's direction, KCCC radio and television had developed
Outstanding news departments. They had won many awards,
and for years KCCC's TV and radio news departments had been
considered by many peOple to be the best in the city.

KCCC was located in a community of 310,000 peOple
in the northwest part of the United States. There were two
other competing stations in the city and one newspaper. The
newspaper was the cause of Ed Brockman's concern at the
moment, a concern that ran so deeply that he was going to

request a meeting that day with the owners of the TV and

29

radio station to get his feelings about the entire Thornton
case, and its subsequent ramifications, out into the open.

Two years before, the newspaper, the Clarion, had
bought out KCCC radio and television. There were no per—
sonnel changes when the new owners took over, but it soon
became apparent that there would be at least one important
policy change. And that policy change directly affected
Ed Brockman and his news department.

At the same time the Clarion bought KCCC, a new
mayor had been elected. When the new mayor had asked the
editors of the paper to pay heed to the request of the local
Human Relations Board that stories with racial overtones be
played down, the editors had listened sympathetically. They
agreed with the mayor and the Board that trouble could very
easily be heightened and emotions stirred up after reading
about racial tension.

When the TV and radio stations had been purchased,
the new owners had made a similar request of Ed Brockman and
his news department. To Brockman, the request had smacked
Of censorship, and he readily voiced his Opposition to such
control over his department. However, the owners were uncon-
vinced by Ed Brockman's arguments, and so, for two years,

the entire matter had been in limbo. Precisely what could

30

be reported, and what could not, had never been decided
upon. No lines had been drawn, no definitions made. The
issue had never come up simply because there had never been
a racial story that might warrant toning down. The situa-
tion had changed less than a week before.

The story had its beginning on the far west side of
the city in an area pOpulated largely by Negroes. Within
the area, there was a public high school with more than
seventy percent Negro attendance. At the school, a seven-
teen year old Negro boy, Bill Thornton, had been discovered
stealing from a car in the teacher's parking lot. The boy
had been caught by a white teacher. Rather than call the
police, the teacher had reprimanded Bill Thornton and called
the boy's parents to tell them Of their son's activity. The
student had appeared quite relieved that the police had not
been called when he left school that afternoon. The same
night, however, Bill Thornton took his own life with a pistol
in the basement of his home.

The following day, over half of the Negro students
at the high school boycotted their classes. A crowd of
several hundred black people, most of them students, gathered
outside the school that same morning. Many of those in the

crowd carried signs calling for the dismissal of the teacher

31

who had reprimanded Bill Thornton. In a short time, the
crowd became unruly, and several rocks were thrown through
school windows. The police were summoned, and within the
hour, school had been called off for the remainder of the
day.

That night, small groups Of Negroes roamed the streets,
causing sporadic trouble. No rioting of a major nature oc—
curred, but the situation was potentially very dangerous.
The next morning, classes were again cancelled at the high
school. And for the second night in a row, bands of trouble-
makers roamed the streets.

During the first day and night of trouble, Ed Brock-
man had carried nothing about it on the air. He had wanted
to, but had been told not to mention it because of the pos—
sibility that new emotions might be stirred up. On the
second day of trouble, KCCC had cautiously reported the
story, and then, only because every other station in the
city had reported it.

As a result of his station's reluctance to carry
the story, Brockman believed the morale Of the men in his
news department was lower than it had ever been in his
years at KCCC. Because of the low morale of his staff, and

because he believed intelligent guidelines could be set down

32

for the coverage of racial stories -- guidelines that
would make supression of these stories unnecessary —-
Brockman was determined to talk to the owners of KCCC.

Strangely enough, he had a certain degree of sym-
pathy for the way the station owners felt; at very least,
Brockman thought he could understand their motivation. In
many instances, such as the Watts riot Of 1965, and to a
lesser degree, the Newark riot, two years later, broad-
casters had been severely criticized for their work. Many
of those critics held television and radio newsmen partially
responsible for the worsening of the Watts uprising. There
were instances in Newark in which it seemed that reporters
had been irresponsible and sensationalistic in their cover-
age. Often, the critics argued, trouble had begun or been
identified at certain locations because of radio and TV
news reporters.

To Ed Brockman, it seemed logical for a station
owner or manager to be conscious of the fact that news re-
porting could do damage in such instances. The Kerner Com-
mission report on civil disorders, prepared in the aftermath
of the Newark and Detroit riots of 1967, contained a section
devoted to the news media. The report listed many of the

dangers inherent in television and radio coverage of civil

33

disorders. For one thing, live coverage of riots was
severely criticized. Such reports, similar to those made
by heliCOpter at Watts, could be extremely inflamatory.
Another inflamatory factor could be the appearance of tele—
vision crews and equipment at the scene of a riot. In addi-
tion, newsmen were cautioned against broadcasting false
rumors of pending trouble, and relaying exaggerated accounts
of happenings and mistaken facts.

The report also gave reasons that Brockman felt were
vivid testimony to the fact that KCCC should cover such disturb—-
ances as had taken place during the last two days. For one
thing, the commission found that television and radio were
much more important than newspapers as a source of news for
peOple living in the ghetto. TO Brockman, this was a very
important discovery. He believed that TV and radio could be
a driving force in the lessening of tension; that it could
do much to calm nerves in times Of disorder. He also thought
that television and radio was in a good position to try to
establish a dialogue with ghetto inhabitants, a dialogue
that might lead to the discovery of why riots and disorders
take place.

Ed Brockman was sure of one thing. KCCC could not

afford to ignore racial matters any more. As he turned his

34

car into the parking lot of the station, Brockman began to
consider possible elements of the guidelines for riot
coverage that he would have to present to the stations'

owners .

35
CASE 4

Michael Hallam gave a start as he glanced at his
watch. It was 10:00 p.m. Earlier that day, he had promised
his wife that he would be home no later than 8:30, and he
had not been aware of the passage of time.

Hallam sat back in his chair and yawned. He decided
that he had better phone Julie and tell her he was leaving
the station. He knew she would not be upset by his not
having been home when he promised; in fact, she probably had
not even expected him. The duties connected with his new
job had made it necessary for Michael Hallam to work late
into the night for the last two weeks. His wife understood.

Hallam pushed the papers on his desk into a slipshod
pile and turned out the lights in the Office. He started
down the hall toward the lobby.

"Good night, Mike. Another long day, huh?"

Hallam smiled. "Yeah. I'm beginning to think I
should move in here permanently."

The man who had spoken to Mike Hallam was Sam Hansen,
the night-time newsman for radio station WHHH. Hallam was
his boss,the news director of the station. It was a position
he had held for only fourteen days.

The late night air was chilly as Hallam closed the

36

front door and started across the parking lot to his car.
The temperature was slightly below freezing, and portions
Of the small amount of snow on the ground had frozen into
slick patches of ice.

The climate in the eastern city in which Hallam
worked was certainly nothing to rave about. Hallam had been
at WHHH for twelve years, and during that time, he had Often
complained about the uncomfortably hot summers and the cold,
snowy winters. In truth, however, neither Hallam nor his
wife had ever seriously considered moving to another city.

The environment at WHHH had been a good one in which
to work. And climate not withstanding, the city was a pleasant
place to live. Both Mike and Julie Hallam thought the city's
size —-- 103,000 --- was just right, large, yet not too
large. Moreover, they had acquired many friends through the
years. And now, their twelve year Old son was at an age
where it would be very hard for him to leave his friends.
No, Mike thought, he had absolutely no desire to move. Par-
ticularly since he had just been appointed news director.

Hallam originally got into news work almost by mis-
take. He had been an accountant back in 1950 when he and
Julie were married. Less than a year later, he was drafted

into the Army as a result of the Korean War. By one of

37

those completely unexpected accidents of "fate" that seem
to happen so Often in the Army, and with no background other
than membership in a high school radio club, Mike Hallam
found himself in Armed Forces Radio. He enjoyed the work,
and when he received his discharge, he decided to become a
radio newsman. For a year and a half, he worked for a
small station in central Ohio, and then, he moved to WHHH.
WHHH had a very small news bureau, considering the
size of the audience it reached. The town in which WHHH
was located had over 100,000 people living in it; and largely
because of a city ten miles away with a pOpulation of over
160,000, WHHH reached an audience of over 280,000 peOple.
For twelve years, since Hallam had first come to the station,
WHHH had Operated with a two-man news staff. When Mike
Hallam became news director, however, he convinced the sta—
tion manager to add a third newsman. He was now in the pro-
cess of searching for a reporter, and many of the long hours
he had spent at WHHH had been devoted to trying to come up
with ways in which to make the most effective use of a
three-man news bureau.
It was a ten minute ride home for Mike Hallam. As
he turned his car out onto the highway, Hallam thought about

the uniqueness of his situation at the station. WHHH was the

38

only full-time "good music” station in town. Its power was
5000 watts, and it was on the air from 5:30 in the morning
until 12:00 midnight. WHHH's competition came from three
other local stations, and at times, from three more stations
in surrounding communities. The three local stations prO-
vided the most competition for news, and, at that, Hallam
had to admit, the competition was not very intense. The
other local stations had only one—man staffs. They did
little actual news work, and, for the most part, were con-
tent to confine their news broadcasts to the reading of
national and state wire copy. The polls showed that WHHH
news far outdistanced its competitors in terms of audience
size.

The main competition for WHHH, in terms of both news
and advertising, was provided by the city's only newspaper,
the Star Journal. The Star Journal had a daily circulation
of 68,000 and a Sunday circulation of 76,000. Most impor-
tant, the newspaper owned WHHH. It was a potentially dan—
gerous situation, at very least; Hallam had thought of it
often. In the twelve years he had been at WHHH, however,
the station had been completely free of influence from the
paper. The station's management had never attempted to

dictate news policy. In spite of the fact that the Star

39

Journal owned WHHH, Hallam knew his news department could
make every effort to compete with the newspaper. Precisely
how to compete, with only three men, was the question Of
the day.

There was no city wire in the town WHHH covered,
and the only way to find out about local news was to do it
by personal contact. SO, right away, the station was at a
disadvantage. To say the least, the Star Journal, with its
large staff of reporters, was better able to cover local
news. Mike Hallam had to find a way to have a three-man
staff broadcast the station's thirteen local newscasts
every day, and still be free to go out and search for stories.

When the station had only two newsmen, much use was
made of the telephone to cover local stories. Now that he
had been promised a new reporter, Hallam was determined that
he and his staff should get out on the street more and do
more digging for stories. Such a feat would be difficult
in a city of 103,000; and the problems would become critical
when the need arose to cover stories in the larger metro-
politan area of over 280,000 peOple.

Back in the Office earlier that night, Hallam had
toyed with the idea of changing the schedule of newscasts.

Even if he did this, his actions would be somewhat limited.

WHHH was an ABC affiliate,

40

and,

as such, was required to

carry certain newscasts from the network.

day log of

\DmflmmbWNH

n>k3k>HIH|~I~+~PJPJHIHI~
NJHIOIOCD~J0\m-§LDNJFJO
O O O O O O O I O O O O O

24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.

6:00
7:00
8:00
8:55
9:00
9:15
9:55

1:00
1:55
2:00
2:55
3:00
3:55
4:00
4:55
5:00
6:00
7:00
7:25
7:30
7:55
8:55
9:00
9:55

to
to
to
to
to
to
to

to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to
to

WHHH included

6:05
7:10
8:10
9:00
9:15
9:20

10:00 a.m.;
10:55 to 11:00 a.m.;
11:00 to 11:05 a.m.;
11:55 to 12:00 noon;
12:30 to 12:40 p.m.;

1:15
2:00
2:05
3:00
3:05
4:00
4:05
5:00
5:05
6:15
7:15
7:30
7:40
8:00
9:00
9:05

10:00 p.m.;
11:00 to 11:15 p.m.;
11:55 to 12:00 midnight;

thirty newscasts:

a.m.;
a.m.;
a.m.;
a.m.;
a.m.;
a.m.;

p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p-m-:
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;
p.m.;

local
local
local
local

news
news
news
news

The current week-

network news round-up
network news commentary
network news

local

local
network
network

news

news
news
news

local news

network

news

local news

network

news

local news

network

news

local news
local news

network
network
network
network
network
network

local

news
news

network news

network news

commentary

commentary

news
news

commentary
network news

news

local news

Hallam could not help but wonder if there might be a way to

rearrange the local news schedule to give his men more free-

dom.

At the same time,

he was concerned over whether it

would be wise to drastically change an established news

schedule,

one that had proven successful and capable Of

41

attracting a large audience. It was very difficult to get

peOple to change their listening habits, and alterning the

news schedule might be taking tOO much of a chance.

Another possibility that had crossed Hallam's mind

was to try to work out an assignment sheet that would keep

the same broadcast schedule, but at the same time give each

man a specific beat that would be covered every day. Cover-

ing such beats would take quite a bit of time. The police

station desk, detective bureau,
office, City Planning Director,
cil Office, County Court House,
City Commissioner; all of these
sought out regularly. Perhaps,

reporters could handle air work

Mayor's office, Solicitor's
Municipal Court, City Coun-
County Prosecutor, and the
contacts would have to be

just perhaps, WHHH's three

and also cover a beat every

day without driving themselves to distraction.

Large, wet snowflakes were beginning to fall as

Mike Hallam turned down the street that led to his house.

What he would do, he thought, would be to try to tackle the

problem from both directions.

He would develOp a revised

broadcast schedule and assign his men to regular beats. And

he would also set up a schedule

of beats that left the news-

casts the way they were at the moment. Then, he would

choose between them when he finally hired his third newsman.

42

"Another couple of days," Mike Hallam thought to
himself as he pulled into his driveway, "another couple of
days. Maybe then I'll be able to start getting home early

enough to have a warm dinner." The prospect made him

smile.

43

CASE 5

Vern Middleton looked out the window. It was still
snowing. Hard. It had been falling since about 9:00 in the
morning, and, by now, more than eight inches had accumulated
on the ground.

The storm had come quickly and with a vengence. The
weather had been unseasonably warm for the last week, and
all up and down the eastern seaboard, peOple had talked hOpe-
fully of an early Spring. Unfortunately, their wishes were
not to come true. From a sunny, mid—afternoon high of 58
degrees yesterday, the temperature had drOpped to 29. And
the drop in temperature had been accompanied by the worst
snowfall of the year.

The conference room on the ground-level floor of
WYYY TV was filled with cigarette and cigar smoke. On a
table in the corner, a pot of coffee slowly percolated.
There were three men in the room, each in his shirt sleeves,
each smoking, and each with a coffee mug in front of him.

To an outsider, it would seem Obvious that the men had been
in the room for some time, perhaps even several hours. In
fact, such an observation would be true. It was 5:00 in
the afternoon, normally quitting time. But the business of

the men in the room had not been completed, and outside,

44

traffic was so snarled, and driving conditions so bad, that
they had decided to stay. Perhaps they could reach some
conclusions. At very least, the snow might stop, and the
roads might be cleared before they left.

Vern Middleton was the youngest of the three men,
35 years Of age, and news director at WYYY TV for slightly
over two years. To his right, at the end of the table, sat
John Raynor, 43 years Old and the relatively new manager Of
WYYY; he had been at the station for only eight months.
Directly across from Vern Middleton was 39-year old Dick
Thayer, the station's program director for three years. The
three men had been in the room since 12:45 that afternoon.
The sole topic of their discussion had been a prOposed
change in programming at WYYY.

The station at which the men worked, WYYY TV, was
located in an eastern city whose metrOpOlitan area included
over two and a half million peOple. Slightly more than two
years before, the network with which WYYY was affiliated had
decided to make an all—out competitive effort in the area
of news and public affairs. Up to that time, the network,
as indeed many of its affiliate stations, had operated with
only token attention paid to news programming. The network

had begun to move in an opposite direction two years ago

45

when it had brought in new peOple to head its news and
public affairs department.

Soon, WYYY TV had followed suit. And Vern Middle-
ton, who for five years had been an on-the-air reporter for
one of the city's other TV stations, had been hired by WYYY
as its director of news and public affairs.

When Middleton first came to WYYY TV, he described
his reaction as one of "shock" at the size and quality of
the news Operation he had inherited. .The station had only
one camera crew, one street reporter and one studio newsman;
they had been expected to cover a city of over two and a
half million peOple.

Middleton lost no time in beginning to reorganize
the news department at‘WYYY. Basically, the problem he
faced had been to gain audience acceptance for WYYY's news
department. This feat was made difficult by the fact that
WYYY was located in a city that had never before taken the
station seriously as far as its efforts in news were con-
cerned; a city that had two other network stations, each
firmly established in the area of news and public affairs.

As soon as he arrived at WYYY, Middleton hired two
more reporters. In a relatively short time, about seven

months, he had three silent film crews and three sound-on-film

46

crews; and the number of reporters at the station had in-
creased to seven. In the following months, Middleton changed
the peOple who anchored the television news reports. In
total, including peOple who worked behind the scenes, WYYY
went from a news staff of four people to one of eighteen
peOple in a year and a half.

During Middleton's first year and a half at WYYY,
the station presented a fifteen minute early evening news
show at 6:30, and a half hour newscast at 11:00 p.m. Al—
though the ratings improved for both shows, the early pre—
sentation had proven to be somewhat of a problem because the
rating increase had not been very substantial. The program's
time period was a distinct disadvantage. For one thing,
WYYY's 6:30 p.m. local news began a full fifteen minutes
after both competing stations finished their local newscasts.
And, in addition, by starting at 6:30, WYYY's competition
was a network news broadcast from both of the other local
stations.

The station had been happy with the ratings of its
11:00 p.m. newscast. It was plain to see, however, that
something would have to be done about the earlier, quarter-
hour news. There were really only two paths Open to the

station: it could keep the early news at 6:30 and resign

47

itself to low ratings and the very long period of time ...
perhaps several years ... that would be required to gain
audience acceptance; or it could try to change the viewers'
habits with a dramatic change in its programming schedule.
From the time it first became apparent that the ratings of
the early news were too low, Vern Middleton and the station
manager, John Raynor, had leaned toward the latter course,
that of making a change in the station's programming and
trying to attract viewers because of that change.

The meeting in the conference room was being held
because of the station's desire to initiate such a change
in its schedule. The network had a quarter-hour newscast
that WYYY picked up at 5:45 p.m. Just one of the questions
being asked by Middleton, Raynor and Thayer was whether
WYYY's early news report might precede or follow the net-
work news. (Up to now, the station had delayed the broad-
cast of the early news until after the 6:30 local news.)
The time of the newscast was only one question, however.
There were many other variables, too.

The idea of a change in programming had first begun
to circulate a half a year before. In the interim period,
several polls had been financed by the station, and their

results had proven interesting and valuable. The largest

48

study had been an attempt to find out what kind of an audi-
ence would be available if WYYY were to change to an earlier
time period for its first evening news report. The study
showed that 65 percent of the total metrOpOlitan pOpulation
was home by 5:00 in the afternoon. Nearly 250,000 indus-
trial workers were, in fact, home earlier ... between 4:00
and 5:15. And more than 125,000 government workers were
home by 4:45. Clearly, there were many people available to
watch a 5:00 newscast. And to Middleton, Raynor and Thayer,
getting on the air with local news before the competition
made more sense than following their local broadcasts.

There were other questions, too, involving such a
change. WYYY TV had committed itself to a full color local
newscast; this was something everyone at the station wanted.
A problem arose because the laboratory and the color pro-
cessor were located at the northern outskirts of the city,
some 17 miles away. Would it be possible to work with such
a situation? Would the station be able to get the film
processed and out to its facilities in time for a 5:00 program?

Most certainly, reorganization of the staff would be
necessary. How might this be done most efficiently? And
how could a WYYY 5:00 newscast be made different from other

local newscasts?

49

Middleton, Raynor and Thayer had also talked at
length about what kind of peOple a 5:00 news hour might be
aimed at. They knew how many peOple would be home by 5:00,
and they knew, too, that more women would be home at that
time then men. Now, they had to become more specific.

Might it be conceivable to aim their early news primarily
at a female audience? And if they did this, would the men
in the audience who would be home by 5:00, industrial and
government workers, for example, still watch the program?

In addition, there were several other issues that
had to be resolved. One of those issues involved the use
of a weatherman. Another station in the same city had a
weatherman who had proven enormously successful. The com-
peting weatherman told funny stories and recited humorous
limericks on the air. The public loved him, and through the
years he had become perhaps the city's most pOpular tele—
vision figure. The problem facing WYYY was what kind of a
man it could hire to compete with the other weatherman.

Another item to be worked out was how to rationalize
and publicize a possible change to an earlier time period to
the public. And finally, if such a change were decided upon,
WYYY would have to find something attractive to program at

6:00, directly Opposite local news on both competing stations.

50

To even think about all of the problems involved in
a schedule change of this magnitude was almost frightening.
Yet, "think" was exactly what Vern Middleton, John Raynor
and Dick Thayer would have to do. And as the snow continued
to pile up outside, each of the three men was fully aware
that a large portion of the long night ahead would be spent

in just such activity.

51

CASE 6

"...and furthermore, I'm not going to stand here and
let a bunch of so-called intellectuals from out of town ---
who don't know a darn thing about what's going on —-— stand
up here and insult my city and tell me how to run iti"

With those words, the heavy-set,red-faced man turned
away from the podium. He picked up his coat and walked
angrily off the stage, pushing his way through the confused
crowd of peOple, and out the rear door of the auditorium.
Within a few minutes, the more than 400 peOple in the hall
began to leave.

From his seat near the podium, Carl Benedict pulled
the micrOphone cord from his tape recorder and watched the
crowd leave. He sighed, and prepared to go back to the sta-
tion to file his story for the late newscast.

If it were possible to be completely impartial, Carl
Benedict should have been happy because he had a good story,
with an excellent tape-recorded actuality. But in this
instance, it was difficult to be neutral. He had hOped that
something useful and constructive might come from the meeting.
He had never thought the mayor, of all peOple, would walk
out of the gathering, as he had moments ago.

Carl Benedict was the director of a four-man news

52

department at a radio station in a city of some 65 thousand
people. The story he was covering, on thesurface at least,
dealt with urban renewal. But, in a way, it was also a

story about the deplorable conditions under which some men
are forced to live. The meeting that had just broken up had
afforded an Opportunity to do something constructive to cor-
rect those conditions. And Carl Benedict was unhappy because
the meeting had ended in failure.

He had been at WLOQ for three years, and before that,
had served as news director at a small station in northern
Minnesota. At WLOQ, Carl Benedict was in charge of a remark-
ably successful news Operation. With news departments at
most other stations struggling to break even financially,
WLOQ made a considerable amount of money from its news broad-
casts. It had cost the station $30,000 during the last year
to Operate its news department; in return, the department
had earned the station $60,000.

WLOQ carried five fifteen minute newscasts per day
and one daily ten—minute news analysis. In addition, the
news department produced documentaries and carried all city
council meetings live. Benedict believed in an interpreta-
tive approach to news broadcasting. Within that framework,

he expected his newsman to get involved with the news. To

53

Benedict, objectivity was not always possible, nor desir-
able. His men could not always be disinterested observers.
He wanted his men to be concerned with the outcome of events,
because often the way they reported them had an influence

on the way those events turned out. The success of his ap-
proach was borne out by the fact that WLOQ had won several
wire service awards for its news reporting.

He had often been accused of biased reporting, par-
ticularly by local city officials, but Carl Benedict defended
his position with vigor. By having his men actually concerned
with the outcome of news, he believed their news reports were
more complete and interesting than they otherwise might be.
By being aware of the different aspects of any given story,
Benedict felt his men were more readily equipped to avoid
mistakes and give accurate reports.

Benedict did not view himself as a crusader. He
simply believed in presenting as true a picture as possible
of the different forces at work in the community. The urban
renewal story he was covering was a conflict between two of
those forces. The two forces, in this case, took the form
of two different plans for the use of a large expanse of
land in the city that was marked for urban renewal.

WLOQ was located in an industrialized city. Fifty-

54

four percent of the city's pOpulation was involved in manu-
facturing. Carl Benedict believed that he worked in a city
wrought with problems: public apathy, racial unrest, and
poverty. Moreover, he believed the city suffered from an
acutely unbalanced economic base and totally inadequate city
planning. There was much evidence to support his views.

In the last municipal election, for example, only
34 percent of the city's registered voters turned out. Be-
yond a doubt, however, the city's biggest problem, according
to Benedict, was of a racial nature. Earlier that year, in
fact, the state's civil rights commission had branded the
city as one of the state's potential trouble spots because
of racial tension.

On the surface, the city was well-integrated.
Twenty-five percent of its pOpulation was Negro, and most of
the twenty-five percent had jobs in one of the area's major
factories. Beneath the surface, though, living conditions
for most of the Negroes were deplorable. A 1955 city ordin-
ance forbade public housing. Consequently, slum—landlordism
was rampant, and most of the Negroes were forced to live in
an Oppressive ghetto. The simple fact was that most black
peOple who came to the city in search of factory jobs usually

got the jobs they sought, but could not find anywhere decent

55

to live.

The Negro could find little solace in the voting
booth, either. City-wide elections chose the seven city com-
missioners. Thus, the only black peOple elected to the com-
mission had always proven most amenable to suggestions by
the white majority. In the words of Carl Benedict, they
were "Uncle Toms."

Largely because of these living conditions and cross-
currents of tension, the architecture department Of one of
the state's major universities had undertaken a one-year
study of the city. As many as 70 people had been involved,
and the departments of sociology, psychology, political
science and economics had provided research personnel to
assist in the study. The result was a detailed diagnosis
of the ills of the community, documented by volumes of evi-
dence, complete with films and slides, and followed by a
step-by-step reconstruction of the city in model form.

The major premise of the university group was that
too many cities --- such as the one under study —-- viewed
urban renewal as simply the demolition of delapidated build-
ings with no thought toward rebuilding and little concern
for the people involved.

The university's urban renewal plan had been unveiled

56

at a public meeting in one of the city's high schools

earlier that same night. The presentation had been highly
critical of the city and the other urban renewal plan pre-
sented to the city, and in the midst of it, the mayor had
walked out. That was the meeting Carl Benedict had covered.
He had hOped the meeting might Open some doors for the future;
instead, those doors seemed more tightly closed than ever be-
fore. And because of that fact, Carl Benedict, as news dir-
ector, was faced with a dilemma.

Basically, the dilemma was whether or not to edi-
torialize in favor of the university's urban renewal plan.
The station had never editorialized before. There was no
policy statement against such activity; Benedict had not
done it in the past simply because he had not felt it was
necessary on other issues.

There were a number of factors that seemed to miti-
gate against his editorializing at this time. Chief among
them was the fact that the university plan seemed to have
little chance for success. The city commission and mayor
were against it, as was the city's only newspaper. Moreover,
the commission, the mayor and the newspaper all favored the
alternate urban renewal plan, a plan that was completely

different than the university's. In addition, the station's

57

management had seemed only luke-warm to the idea when
Benedict had broached the possibility of editorializing
several days earlier. He knew that if he pushed it with
management, he would be able to speak out on the subject.

But looking at it realistically, in terms of potential lost
advertising revenue and outside pressure on the station, Carl
Benedict could only wonder if it would be worth the effort.

One of the problems was that the editorials would
have to do more than promote a university urban renewal plan
that had been rejected; they would also have to convince
peOple that the second urban renewal plan --- favored by all
city officials and the city's power structure --- was wrong.
In reality, Carl Benedict wondered what he could hOpe to
accomplish by editorializing.

The plan favored by the city offered almost a com-
plete contrast to the university plan. The plan, presented
by a realtor from a nearby city called for the razing of
the deve10pment area, which was one mile long and 2000 feet
wide. Twenty percent of the cleared land would then be used
for stores and office buildings and 80 percent for parking.

By contrast, the university group did not believe
that bulldozers were a necessary beginning to all urban re-

newal projects. The peOple involved in the study said the

58

private plan would destroy too much: homes, street patterns,
part of the city's character, and, just as important, an
area that peOple could use to identify with the city. Conse-
quently, the university would not tear down all buildings.
Instead, the area and many of the buildings would be re-
modeled. The university group also prOposed to build a deck
over much of the renewal area. The deck would preserve
existing street patterns underneath, and would allow for
more usable building space on tOp. Negro groups in the city
thought the university plan was much more visionary than the
private plan. Benedict agreed.

In the Opinion of Carl Benedict, the city was stag-
nant. There were too few parks and recreation areas, and
virtually no culture. There was no consideration for minor-
ities. The university plan could provide a starting point
for a newer, more enlightened city. But, as things stood
at the moment, Carl Benedict knew there was little chance
for the plan's success.

With the newspaper and city government against the
university plan, he was convinced that a true picture of the
plan's benefits had not been presented to the peOple of the
city. By editorializing, he wondered how many of those

‘people he could hOpe to reach? How many minds could he

59

change? How many apathetic peOple could he make concerned?
As the city's only radio station, could WLOQ provide an ef-
fective counter-balance to the editorial voice of the news-
paper and the firm position of the city council? And in the
long run, by editorializing now —-— even if the university
plan failed --- would it still be possible for him to accom-
plish some good? Would the editorials provide information
that had been missing in other communication channels? If
such information were provided, could WLOQ provide the im-
petus that might ultimately result in a more responsive city
council, so that future plans, such as the university's might
fare better?

All were questions he would struggle with for long

hours before arriving at a conclusion.

60

CASE 7

The red light over the Associated Press teletype
machine blinked on and off several times to indicate that a
bulletin was about to come over the wire. WOBO's news dir-
ector, Bill Sampson stood in front of the machine to read
the story.

The dateline was the state capitol. According to
the wire service, the governor was going to hold a news con-
ference the next morning, at which he would announce the
appointment of a new administrative assistant, a man who at
the moment was chief aide to the mayor of the state's largest
city.

Bill Sampson muttered softly to himself and walked
out of the newsroom and into his office next door. This was
a major story. The governor and mayor were political rivals,
and in fact, were expected to run against each other in the
coming Fall's election.

The story, Sampson thought, would have made a good
exclusive for WOBO's news department. Yet, even though it
had a "stringer" in the state capitol, the station had not
received the story from him.

To Bill Sampson, this fact provided an excellent

example of why WOBO's relationship with the state capitol

61

stringer was unsatisfactory. The stringer was a very capable
reporter -— Bill Sampson knew this --- and had, in fact, done
fine work for WOBO in the past. However, he was also a
stringer for three other stations in the state, and there
were many stories he had missed. By the very fact that three
other stations were also paying for his services, he simply
could not devote all, or even a majority of his time to WOBO.

Bill Sampson understood the reality of the situation,
and it in no way lessened his enthusiasm for the stringer's
talents. In fact, he admired his part-time reporter so
much that he wanted to hire him as a full-time staff member.
For over a week, he had been collecting information in prepa—
ration for the day he would ask the station's owners for an
increased budget that would allow him to hire the stringer
as a full—time capitol correspondent.

He was not sure the station's owners would agree to
hire another newsman at this time, but Bill Sampson still
thought the time was right to ask. There were, Sampson
believed, a number of factors about WOBO that bode well for
the possibility of its becoming the state's first radio sta-
tion --- outside of the capitol --- to have its own capitol
bureau.

WOBO was located in the state's largest city. It

62

was a clear channel station whose signal reached most of

the pOpulation of the state. All told, during the day, the
station's primary coverage area reached over fifteen million
peOple. At night, WOBO's signal was considerably stronger.
The station had drawn mail response from over 40 of the
continental United States.

Variety was the key word in WOBO's programming. The
station featured year—around sports coverage, talk shows and
popular and classical music; in addition, its news and pub-
lic affairs department was generally regarded as the best in
the city.

The reputation of WOBO's news and public affairs
department was due largely to the competence of its reporters
and the quality of their newscasts. WOBO was affiliated
with a network, and in addition to network newscasts, the
station carried eight local news shows per day of at least
ten minutes length, and it also featured five—minute news-
casts throughout the day.

Within the last two years, there had been a dramatic
change in the station's newscasts. Two years ago, WOBO had
been bought by new owners. With the old owners there had
been a minimum use of actualities in the station's news pro-

grams. The new owners wanted actualities used however, and

63

the result was facter paced, more interesting newscasts for
WOBO. The station now made liberal use of local actualities
from its own men and national and international inserts from
the network. WOBO's news and public affairs department was
considerably smaller than most peOple would imagine. The
station had seven reporters who did newscasts. One of the
seven men was always on the street in the mObile unit.

Despite its size, WOBO was a leader in the area of
news programming. It had been the first station in the city
to establish a news bureau at the city hall. (Afterward,
several other local stations followed suit.) Currently, one
of the station's newsmen spent several hours a day at the
city hall, and then came into the studios to prepare two
late afternoon newscasts.

In Bill Sampson's mind, there were several excellent
reasons for WOBO to establish a capitol bureau. Chief among
those reasons was the fact that WOBO was a clear-channel
radio station. Its power and the size of its audience made
'WOBO something considerably more than a local station; it
‘was a regional station, with its audience encompassing almost
all of the state's population. As a regional station, it
had to offer a wider range of news than would a local station.

.And to Bill Sampson, one of the best ways for WOBO to increase

64

its regional news stance was to establish a state capitol
bureau.

Another reason for a capitol bureau, Sampson thought,
was the fact that it would give WOBO's news department an
advantage in competing with the news departments in the city's
television stations. It would simply cost too much for any
local TV station to set up a state capitol bureau.

There were other aspects of the situation that also
appealed to Bill Sampson. One was that WOBO, by acting now,
would be the first station in the city to establish a state
capitol bureau. There were rumors that one other radio sta-
tion in the city was giving serious consideration to the
matter of starting a capitol bureau. Sampson did not want
that station to start such a bureau before WOBO. He wanted
the competitive edge of being first.

Once begun, Bill Sampson was confident the bureau
would immediately begin to benefit the station. WOBO would
then be able to have regular actualities from the capitol,
and the station would also get "exclusives," something that
was now impossible because the stringer worked for other
stations, too. Finally, the State Senate had voted last
year to allow live broadcasts from the Senate floor, and

WOBO would be able to make use of this new rule.

65

There were other factors that had to be considered
too, however. The establishment of a capitol bureau was a
major step for the station. It would be expensive ---
perhaps as much as $20,000 for the reporter's salary and
line charges -—- and there was no proof that WOBO would have
its investment returned on a continuing basis. Would a
capitol correspondent provide the station with enough stories
to make the money spent worthwhile? The current governor
was a national political figure, but what would happen if a
man less interesting replaced him? Would a less news-worthy
man in the governor's office lessen the value and importance
of a capitol bureau? This was an important issue, because
Sampson would have to convince several peOple of the bureau's
merits: first, the station manager, then the general man—
ager, and if those two barriers were cleared, the corpora-
tion that owned the station.

Another matter of importance was the fact that there
were no broadcasting facilities in the capitol. All broad—
casters had to work in the same room as neWSpaper reporters.
This fact complicated the situation considerably. WOBO
would try, of course, to secure broadcasting facilities at
the capitol. However, if their effort failed, they might

have to open an office near the capitol, and this would add

66

to the cost of the Operation.
At the moment, Bill Sampson had two major areas of
concern. He first of all had to convince the station's
owners, by going through channels, that a capital bureau
was needed. If this endeavor proved successful, he would
then have to offer a detailed study of how he proposed to w“
set up and Operate his bureau. There were many variables
involved and Bill Sampson knew his task would not be easy. 'wi
Still, he looked forward to the possibility of confronting
the station manager, general manager and owners with his
ideas. Bill Sampson was that sure his basic premise ---
that a capitol bureau was needed —-— was correct, that even
though he had not formulated his final arguments, he was

positive he would succeed.

67
CASE 8

The prospect of it all made Len Josephson almost
want to shudder. He had worked as news director for WYNS,
State University's radio station for nearly eight years.
And earlier that same week, he had been offered the job of
news director of the University's television station, WOPD,
in addition to his duties at WYNS.

He had thought about it at length; he knew the
amount of work involved would be immense. Yet, at the same
time, he could not refuse. It was too much of a challenge.

State University had over 20,000 students, and it
was located in an eastern city with a pOpulation of more
than 30,000 peOple. WYNS was a 5000 watt AM radio station
with a dawn to dusk Operating schedule that had been run by
the University for over thirty-five years. The station was
professionally run, and had twenty full-time employees. In
addition, it also provided work Opportunities for some
students on a part-time basis.

In actuality, having the dual position of radio and
TV news director was not entirely new to Len Josephson. On
a much smaller scale, several years before, he had served
as news chief for both WYNS-radio and WOPD—TV. But at that

time, WOPD had an extremely limited approach to news.

68

Mostly, what Len Josephson had done was present one daily
ten-minute newscast, prepared from wire—service copy. He
had performed this function for over a year and had then
gone back to radio exclusively when a speech professor had
agreed to read the daily news show for WOPD.

Now, the television station was asking him to return
as news director. Only this time, WOPD envisioned a much
more active news bureau --- one that would present special
programs and documentaries in addition to two daily news—
casts. The work-load in the combined radio-TV positions
would be enormous. Len Josephson had thought about the offer
for most of the week, before, earlier that same day, finally
accepting the new position. Now, he was sitting in his
office, looking through reports and other bits of informa-
tion. His job was to try to figure out how to effectively
Operate both a radio and television news department. The
situation was fraught with complications.

Chief among those complications was the fact that
radio station WYNS and television station WOPD were located
nearly a mile apart, in different areas of the campus.
Another complication was the somewhat limited budget with
which to work.

As news director of WYNS, Len Josephson was responsible

69

for newscasts throughout the day. WYNS had quarter-hour
newscasts at 8:00 and 11:30 a.m. and at 3:15 and 5:45 p.m.
The station also had five-minute newscasts during each of
the remaining hours that did not have fifteen minute news
shows. In addition, the station had a tradition that called
for the use of actualities, whenever possible, in its news-
casts. At WYNS, Len Josephson was the only full-time, pro—
fessional employee in the news department; but he was able
to employ, at all times, two or three students at the Uni-
versity to work part-time in the news room.

The television station wanted Josephson to be respon-
sible for two ten—minute newscasts per day, at 12:00 noon
and 6:15 p.m. WOPD also wanted him to present regular half-
hour news and public affairs specials. He was already pre-
senting radio news specials, so the additional responsibility
at the TV station could conceivably pose serious problems.

Two immediate problems concerning the use of visual
material at WOPD presented themselves. The station did not
have a general file, or morgue, for photographs and films.
And, as news director, Len Josephson would not have a film
crew strictly for news work. The TV station's film crew
was under the direction of WOPD's film department. Any

assignments made by the news department would have to be

FT:

70

made through the film department. The news department would
exercise no control over the final content of film; WOPD's
news bureau would simply have to work with whatever it
received. In regard to this situation, it seemed highly
unlikely that a complete sound-on-film crew would be avail-
able for spot news work, either. More than likely, much of
the news film taken would be silent.

One of the most serious situations confronting Len
Josephson was whether it would be possible to operate two
separate newsrooms at WYNS and WOPD, considering the distance
between the two stations. Perhaps it would be better to try
to combine the newsrooms under one roof. If this were the
case, where? And how would it be accomplished? And what
would be the most efficient way to present the respective
newscasts if the television and radio newscasts were operating
under one roof?

The budget was, of course, another problem. At the
radio station, Josephson had been able to hire student help.
With the combined duties, he would still be able to hire
student help. But he could not help but wonder how many
students he would need, and how to assign their duties. For
example, would it be feasible to have separate staffs for

radio and television? Or should there be one staff, with

i.

71

 

its members crossing over in their duties between both
stations?

His current budget would allow him only to hire
student help. Yet the beginning of the new fiscal year was
near, and Len Josephson knew he would soon be called upon
to make recommendations for his two Operations. Projecting
into the future, he could not help but wonder what additional
help might be useful. Could he use a graduate assistant?
Or might it be necessary to have a full-time, professional
assistant news director? The possibilities were numerous.

Another concern at this time was the kind of news-
casts he would present on WOPD-TV. With two ten—minute
newscasts per day, he could not help but wonder what the
composition of his newscasts should be. In other words,
should the emphasis be on local and and state news to the
exclusion of national and international news, or should the
Opposite be true? He was also concerned with the question
of whether it would be wise to duplicate stories that would
also be covered by network newscasts and local commercial
stations. The composition of his television newscasts was
extremely important, and Len Josephson knew a great deal of
work would be involved in deciding what would actually get

on the air.

72

Yet another concern was how to produce documentaries
for both radio and television. Undoubtedly, this kind of
programming would be an important part of his job at WOPD-TV,
as it was at WYNS. The problem was to find a way to be able
to get programs done for both stations.

There could be no doubt that the nature of educational
broadcasting differed greatly from that of commercial broad-
casting. To be sure, Len Josephson had a much more limited
budget than did news directors at most commercial stations.
At the same time, however, Josephson believed there were
very definite advantages that went along with working for an
educational, university-owned station. For one thing, the
teaching rolls of the university included authorities in a
variety of fields. These people could offer insight into
almost any issue or tOpic that might arise in the news.

He was aware of the tremendous amount of work that
faced him, and Len Josephson knew that the job he now had
would include more than deciding how to run the WOPD tele-
vision news department: he would also have to revamp his

radio news operation at WYNS.

73

CASE 9

Ron Jackson eased himself into the chair behind the
huge desk in his office and looked around. What he saw was
a wall lined with photographs and plaques. For the most
part, the photographs were of well-known peOple who had been
interviewed by WCBC newsmen; and the plaques were awards
that had been won by the WCBC news bureau. There had been
many famous people interviewed by WCBC newsmen, and there
had been many awards, too.

As the recently appointed news director of WCBC
radio news, Ron Jackson was pleased, and, at the same time,
somewhat puzzled as he looked at the wall. He was pleased
because he knew that he was undoubtedly inheriting a fine
news Operation, one with a long history of capable work.

He was puzzled because that same competence had never been
cause for a large following for WCBC news on the part of
the public.

For years WCBC had been second in news ratings to
WBBB. That essentially was why Ron Jackson found himself
occupying the news director's office at WCBC. For most of
the years WCBC had been beaten in the ratings by WBBB. Ron
Jackson had been the news chief at WBBB. Now, Ron Jackson

was at WCBC, hired away from his former station in the hOpe

74

that he could duplicate his success at WBBB and make WCBC
the tOp-rated news station in the city.

The task would not be easy. Ron Jackson knew this
as he began his first day at his new job. WCBC was located
in a city of over one and one—half million people. And, as
Ron Jackson knew only too well, the peOple in the city were
deeply rooted in their support of WBBB. And WBBB's news
department had also won many awards.

One important physical factor separated the two sta-
tions: that factor was power. Even though both stations
covered the metrOpOlitan area, WBBB had much more power.
While WCBC was a 5,000-watt station, WBBB was a 50,000—watt,
clear channel station. And exactly how important that dif-
ference in power might be in terms of the content of his
newscasts was just one of the things Ron Jackson would soon
have to decide.

There were other differences between the stations,
too. For one thing, WBBB had a smaller news staff than did
WCBC. It was to Ron Jackson's credit that not many listeners
were aware of the size of WBBB's staff. Only six men worked
in the WBBB news department. One of the men spent the morn-
ing and part of the afternoon at city hall. And the other

six staff members divided studio newscasts and on-the-street

75

duties. (The city hall reporter also did two newscasts
per day.)

Six reporters was a small number for a news bureau
at a clear-chennel station in a city with a pOpulation of
over a million and a half people. Yet, Ron Jackson had
used those six men to their utmost effectiveness. The
question facing Jackson at WCBC was what could be done with
four more reporters than he had at WBBB. That was the
pleasant prospect that confronted Jackson at his new station.

In the past, WCBC's newsmen had not done much work
outside the studio. They had not been "on the street" to
give the station many actualities. Ron Jackson felt that
he could make better use of his reporters. The actual jobs
that would be assigned to all of WCBC's newsmen would be very
important. How the men were used would have a vital effect
on the make-up of the station's newscasts.

At WBBB Ron Jackson's news staff had presented
seven fifteen-minute newscasts per day, and one ten—minute
newscast. There were also several five-minute newscasts
each day. All of WBBB's news programs were presented on
the hour. WCBC, however, presented its news, mostly in
five-minute programs, at five minutes before each hour.

The network with which WCBC was affiliated presented all of

 

76

its news at that time. There was one exception to that rule.

Between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m., the station presented an hour-

long block of local and network news and commentary. In an

attempt to gain inroads into the news audience at his old

station, Ron Jackson would have to decide the effectiveness

of the current news schedule on WCBC. Was it possible to “
get enough news into a five-minute newscast to compete with

a station that presented longer newscasts? And in a competi—
tive situation, was it to WCBC's advantage or disadvantage

to give its news five minutes before WBBB?

WBBB had been a middle-of—the-road station, empha-
sizing music, sports and talk features. WCBC was a rock
station. Ron Jackson would also have to concern himself
with how much of an effect WCBC's program format would have
on his news format.

One other problem that needed a solution was in
determining what the role of the news director should be at
‘WCBC. While at WBBB, Ron Jackson had assumed a regular
load of newscasts. He had presented the 8:00 a.m. and 12:00
noon news and had also been in charge of the station's
nightly business news report. He was not sure he wanted to
follow this same pattern at WCBC.

The man who had preceded him at WCBC had been extremely

77

active as a reporter. He personally covered almost every
big story that occurred. This prOpensity for covering
stories himself, rather than delegating authority to members
of his staff, was not the way Ron Jackson chose to run a
news department. To Jackson's way of thinking, the previous
situation at WCBC had caused a morale problem: the newsmen
knew they would most likely not get the chance to cover big
stories because they would be covered by the head of their
department, instead. To Jackson, another negative aspect
of this situation was that it robbed the newsmen of valu-
able experience in covering stories. He knew, for instance,
that the reporters at WBBB had had much more experience in
covering and reporting stories than had the reporters at WCBC.

Ron Jackson had also given some mind to becoming
strictly an administrative news chief. At the present time,
there seemed to be a great deal of thought favoring this ap-
proach among radio and television news bureaus. Just the
same, however, at WBBB, Ron Jackson had been the highest
rated radio newsman in the city. By being strictly an
administrator he could not help but think that he might be
failing to use one of his most effective weapons in the
rating battle with WBBB.

In addition, Ron Jackson was not completely sure

78

that it would be wise to entirely divorce himself from on—
the-air news work. He wondered if he might not have better
rapport with his staff if he had some small amount of air
work.

All of these questions, and many more, demanded
answers. And Ron Jackson knew that if he provided the right
answers, he might well be able to provide WCBC with what it

wanted so very much for its news programs: a larger audience.

79

CASE 10

Rob Wilson spun his chair around from his desk and
prepared to rewind the tape on the recorder to his right.
He was a bit displeased with what was on the tape, and he
wanted to hear it again. Wilson was the news director of
WCFM radio, and the content of the tape was but one of
several problems he faced at the station.

He had been news director for five weeks, and since
coming to the station, Rob Wilson had become very conscious
of the fact that WCFM presented Opportunities and problems
for a news director unlike those of any other station in
the metrOpOlitan area.

The uniqueness of Rob Wilson's situation arose from
the fact that he was black, and the station he worked for,
WCFM, was programmed entirely for the city's Negro pOpula-
tion. In its advertising, WCFM referred to itself as "Soul
Radio," the city's only "Afro-American programmed, owned and
Operated station."

WCFM was a lOOO-watt, a.m. station in one of the
country's largest cities. Within the city limits lived more
than 650,000 Negroes, and WCFM aimed its programs entirely
at this audience. The Litton Broadcasting Company, which

owned WCFM (and an all-jazz station, WJAZ-FM) considered

80

WCFM's audience a selling point for advertisers. An article
entitled "The Believability of Negro Radio," given by WCFM
to advertisers and prospective advertisers, put forth the
view that the Negro market could not be covered effectively
by the general media. An all-black medium, such as WCFM,
was a far more effective way of realizing the potential of
the Negro consumer. According to the article, WCFM's
listeners respond to the station's advertising because they
know it is aimed directly at them.

At WCFM, Rob Wilson had inherited a schedule of news-
casts from the previous news director that, for the time being
at least, would not be changed. The station operated 24 hours
per day, and five—minute newscasts were presented on every
hour, with headlines given each half hour. The one exception
to that rule occurred every week-day afternoon from 3:30 to
3:45 when WCFM presented a fifteen-minute news program called
"Newsbeat." In addition, Wilson was also responsible for
short newscasts given every two hours on the FM station,
WJAZ. Often, it was necessary for Wilson to tape—record
these newscasts because they were not always given at pre—
cisely the same time as were the newscasts on the AM station.

There was one other newsman at WCFM and he and Rob

Wilson each handled an eight-hour shift. Wilson generally

'P.

81

worked from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. and the second newsman
from 4:00 p.m. to midnight. During the hours from midnight
to 8:00 a.m. the news was usually read from wire c0py by
the all-night and early morning disc jockies. Occasionally,
newscasts were taped, for WCFM, as well as WJAZ. for use
when there was no one on duty in the newsroom.

One of the problems Rob Wilson had become aware of
in his five weeks at WCFM was the use of a listener Opinion
feature called "Soul Sound—off." This feature provided a
phone number listeners could call at any time to have their
Opinions on the issues of the day tape recorded. The re-
corded messages were then broadcast throughout the day at
the end of newscasts.

Wilson was unhappy with "Soul Sound-off," and the
tape he had just rewound in the newsroom represented one
of the reasons he was not pleased with the feature. The
woman whose voice was on the tape called on the average of
a half dozen times a week. Rob Wilson knew there were sev-
eral other peOple, too, who were doing the same thing ---
having their views presented several times per week via
"Soul Sound-off." Wilson thought the general idea of a
forum that allowed WCFM's listeners to express their Opinions

to be sound. At the same time, however, he did not believe

82

that the format of "Soul Sound-off" was even touching upon
a cross section of listener Opinion. Rob Wilson wanted to
attract a wider variety of Opinions on the station. He did
not know precisely what he would do, but at the moment, he
did know that some changes in the Operation of "Soul Sound-
off'l were called for in the future.

The actual content of WCFM's newscasts was also a
concern of Rob Wilson. His predecessor at the station had
included international, national and local news on every
newscast. Wilson was not sure he wanted to follow this
policy. As a youth, he had lived within the ghetto section
of the city WCFM served, and Rob Wilson knew that ghetto
dwellers listened a great deal to WCFM. The question in
Wilson's mind was whether a news format that included inter-
national and national stories would be of interest to ghetto
inhabitants. The previous news director had also included
:news of special interest to Negroes, but this had not been
a major portion of his newscasts.

In his first weeks at WCFM, Wilson had followed the
established format for news. But now, he had second thoughts.
‘Was there a better way to reach black peOple? For example,
Inight it be better to aim the news more at Negroes by in-

<:luding items that directly pertained to them? Should he

83

play up this aSpect of the news, and play down the other,
more traditional news? Could WCFM afford to emphasize Negro
news to the exclusion of other news with the idea in mind
that listeners who wanted other information could readily
find it on other radio stations, or on television?

Another question concerned the size of the staff and
its relationship to the possibility of longer newscasts. For
the time being, these concerns were secondary, but Rob Wilson
knew that some day he would like to be able to do longer news-
casts; he eventually wanted at least ten minutes for news
every three hours. This was impossible with only two newsmen,
however, and Wilson wondered how, at some future date, he might
approach management about a larger staff and more time for news.

For the present time, WCFM's only newscast longer than
five minutes was the quarter-hour "Newsbeat." As matters
stood, "Newsbeat" was simply a longer newscast following the
established station format for news content. Wilson wondered
how he might make this program more appealing and important
to black peOple.

WCFM did carry many programs of a public service nature.
These were not the responsibility of the news director. As
Rob Wilson saw it, his job at WCFM called for him to make the

station's news programs relevant to the city's black population.

84
CASE 11

"That's the story, Bill. We can start you at $14,000
per year -— and needless to say, we'd‘love to have you here at
the Association. If you could let me know your decision
within a week, I'd appreciate it."

"Thanks very much, Tom," Bill McDaniel replied.

”I'll let you know as soon as I make up my mind."

McDaniel replaced the telephone in its cradle and
leaned back in his chair. It was 8:35 p.m., and Bill McDaniel
was sitting in his den. The man he had just talked to, Tom
Seiver, was the president of the State Hospital Association.
His call had been a prelude to what would prObably prove to
be many fitful hours for McDaniel. For Seiver had offered
him a job as director of information at the State Hospital
Association, a job that paid more money than McDaniel was
currently making as news director at radio station WOAM.

And within the next week, Bill McDaniel was going to have
to decide whether or not he was going to accept the job.

McDaniel had been news director of WOAM radio for
ten years. The station was located in a midwestern indus-
trial city with a pOpulation of more than 110,000. All told,
McDaniel had been involved in radio work for over thirty

years. Any reluctance he harbored about accepting the job

85

at the Hospital Association was due to the fact that radio
news work was really his first love; if at all possible, he
did not want to change his occupational area.

An interest in radio work was something that Bill
McDaniel had nurtured for most of his life. His first actual
employment in the field had come in 1938, when, at the age
of 18, he had begun work at the University of Minnesota's
radio station. The years following this had seen McDaniel
employed by a variety of radio stations. Until 1943, McDaniel
had worked in general radio production, and after that he had
concentrated entirely on news work. For a year, he taught
radio classes at the University of Minnesota while doing
free—lance work for stations in Minneapolis, and for a short
time several years later, he was a motion picture stunt man
while working for a station in Hollywood. Outside of these
extra jobs, Bill McDaniel had been employed in no other field
except radio for over three decades.

All told, McDaniel had worked for more than one dozen
radio stations in all sizes of markets, from large to small.
His radio work had given him employment in such diverse parts
of the country as Denver, Salt Lake City, Hollywood, Detroit
and Grand Rapids. He had also worked in small markets such

as Bimidji, Minnesota; Aberdeen, South Dakota and Grand

86

Forks, North Dakota.

At WOAM, Bill McDaniel was making $10,000 per year.
For a man who had been news director at the station for ten
years, and who had worked in radio for thirty years, a
salary of $10,000 seemed far from sufficient. McDaniel was
well aware of this fact.

Through the years, Bill McDaniel had formulated some
conclusions about the radio industry. One of those conclu-
sions was that it was extremely low-paying. To be sure,
there was money to be made, but that money seemed to be
only at stations in big cities. This presented Bill McDaniel
with his biggest problem; for another conclusion he had reached
after his years in radio was that he did not want to live in
big cities. He had worked successfully in several large
metrOpOlitan areas, and had received offers from several
others. But so intense was his dislike for big-city life
that he had vowed never to move to a large city again. In
fact, at the present time, McDaniel and his family lived on
a small farm.

Bill McDaniel realized his situation was unique. In
broadcasting, most peOple hOpe for upward mobility. And
"upward mobility" in the majority of cases meant moving to

higher paying jobs at larger stations, in larger cities.

87

McDaniel had hOped to reverse this trend; namely, to find

a well-paying job in a small or medium sized market. He
did not want the prestige of a large market job; he simply
wanted security for himself and his family. And at this
moment, security was something he desperately needed. His
two children were in high school and would soon be starting
college. And financing two college educations at approxi-
mately the same time would be no small task.

McDaniel's search for security had led him down many
paths and had seen him try many different approaches to the
industry. He had been a newsman and a news director; he
had worked for a newspaper-radio station chain by setting
up news bureaus at stations that had previously had no news
Operation; and for a time, he had even owned his own station
in a small town in central Ohio. He had exhausted himself
trying to make enough money to support his wife and two
children. And he had come to the realization that the only
way to make money in radio news was to work in the big cities.

Besides the financial aspects of the job offer from
the Hospital Association, Seiver's overture to Bill McDaniel
was attractive for another reason, as well. In the last
half year, he had become increasingly unhappy over the

status of the news department at WOAM.

88

The owner of the station had been in poor health,
and as a result, had delegated almost all of his authority
to WOAM's program director. The man serving as program
director was a former disc jockey, and for the last few
months, McDaniel had felt that the program director was
trying to eliminate newscasts in order to play up the sta-
tion's rock format. JUst one month earlier, McDaniel had
been ordered to shorten the hourly, night—time newscasts
from five minutes to three minutes so that WOAM could get
back on the air with music before its competition completed
their newscasts. McDaniel protested vehemently, but to no
avail.

The situation had been particularly hard for Bill
McDaniel to tolerate because at one time, WOAM had empha-
sized news a great deal. The station's news department had
broadcast several fifteen—minute newscasts per day and in
the process had won many awards. Now, however, McDaniel
had to admit to himself that it was growing extremely
difficult for him to take pride in his news work at WOAM.
Only one quarter-hour newscast per day remained, and it
seemed clear that the station did not think news was impor-
tant to the teen-aged audience at which WOAM aimed its

programming.

89

In a way, the situation at WOAM was secondary to
Bill McDaniel. If he decided to stay in radio, he knew he
could get another job. The main question in McDaniel's
mind was whether or not to remain in radio. He wanted to;
there was no doubt about that. But after thirty years, and
with three other people to take care of, he wondered if he
could afford to refuse the Hospital Association job.

McDaniel had long felt that small and medium—market .

 

radio stations did not take good enough care of their own
workers. And he was concerned about the lack of an adult
approach to radio in most medium-sized markets such as his
own. Somewhere there had to be a way to reverse the trends
that Bill McDaniel had experienced. Somehow, there had to
be a way to assure financial security for radio newsmen out-
side of the large metrOpOlitan areas.

Bill McDaniel had worked in radio through the medium's
heyday, through the years when being in radio news meant in-
volvement in a vital and exciting industry. Today, it was
different. There was no doubt about that. Now, McDaniel
wondered if being in radio news, in anything but a big city,
was a losing prOposition if a man hoped to gain finanCial
security. He wondered if being a successful radio news

director or newsman, in a medium-market was now a thing of

90

the past. After over thirty years in the field, McDaniel
could not help but wonder if he had reached the end of the

line, with nowhere else to turn.

91

CASE 12

Roger Mann could hardly believe what he had just
heard.

Sitting across the table, Louis Angelo smiled.
”That's right, Roger," Angelo said. "The Operation doesn't
have to make money. In fact, we don't want it to. At the
same time, however, we do want a tOp—notch news bureau. And
we're willing to pay well to get it."

"Well, I have to admit that that certainly is a
switch," Mann replied. "I guess I'm just used to working
for stations that want their news bureaus to try to pay for
themselves, or at least make some money."

Angelo caught the eye of a waitress and ordered two
more drinks. "It is a bit unusual, I know. But the reason-
ing behind it is sound. When we switch formats, and call
letters, every bit of intelligence we can muster indicates
that we'll hit the market like a bombshell. We're going to
be big --- hOpefully, number one. And that means we'll
make money ....”

"Excuse me, but when will the change take place?"

"In about two and a half months, give or take a
couple of weeks, depending on how quickly some of the details

are ironed out. Anyway, as I was saying, one thing we do

92

want at the station is a good news bureau. And we know

that good news bureaus don't just happen overnight. They
take talent, and time, and money. One thing a news Opera-
tion doesn't need —-— eSpecially one just starting out -—-

is a constant pressure from management for it to make money.
So, we'll remove that pressure. The station will absorb the
cost of the news bureau. We just want the bureau to be good.
And if you take the job, you'll pretty much have a free hand
in deciding what you want."

Roger Mann lit a cigarette and grinned. "What do
you mean, 'If I take the job'---of course I'll take the job.
The way you've explained things, it sounds beautiful. And,
it's also going to be a whale of a challenge."

"That's why you're our man for the job," Angelo
said as he placed some money on the table to pay for the
drinks. "We know you can handle it."

Mann had a difficult time containing his elation as
he and Louis Angelo walked out the door of the club and into
the bright sun-light of the autumn afternoon. This was the
moment he had worked years to achieve. Since his college
days, he had worked at a succession of radio stations in
the mid-west and south. For the past three years, he had

been news director at a station in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

93

Now, with the discussion that had just concluded, Roger
Mann found himself news director of a radio station in one
of the largest markets in the country.

Later that night, after flying back to his home in
Fort Wayne, Mann began to go over the brief-case full of
material he had collected at the station that same afternoon.
There was a great deal of information Mann would have to di-

gest in the next few months: information about the city and i

 

its peOple, the station, and the competition. Even though
he would not go on the pay-roll for five weeks, Roger Mann
knew he would have to spend every spare minute until that
time assimilating information. And he knew he could not be-
gin one minute too soon.

The station that had just hired him, WSSS was located
in one of the largest cities in the country. For years, the
station had programmed middle-of—the—road pOpular music.
WSSS had also gone in for sports in a big way by carrying
all of the games of the city's major league baseball team,
as well as the football games of a nearby Big Ten school.

At one time several years before, WSSS had been one
of the city's tOp-rated radio stations. In the last few
years, however, the station's ratings had plunged downward.

Cutting deeply into WSSS's share of the audience were two

94

stations in the city that programmed rock music. Finally,

in a last—ditch move, WSSS's management admitted that rock
music might indeed be the wave of the future, and they called
in one of the country's tOp program consultants, a man whose
ideas on how to program rock had transformed many failing
radio stations into highly profitable ventures.

The end result of the program consultant's study of
WSSS and the city in which it Operated was recommendation
that the station undergo a complete transformation: new call
letters, new rock format and new on-the-air personalities.
The station had agreed to the plan. In the near future, the
format change Louis Angelo had mentioned to Roger Mann would
actually take place. At that time, WSSS would change to an
all-rock station, with new call letters, WDOM, and new air
personalities. There would be no more play-by—play sports,
but there would indeed be news, and it was for that reason,
to head the news bureau at the new WDOM, that Roger Mann
had been hired.

The situation in which Roger Mann would find himself
at WDOM was fairly unique. For as large as was the city
WDOM would serve, there was really very little competition
among the city's television and radio stations in the area

of news. There were three television stations in the city.

95

One local channel had the television news audience locked
up; another TV station had only one street reporter, and the
third major station aired no local news at all. In radio
news throughout the city, the situation was, if anything,
even less competitive. There was one station that gave news
a prominent place in its broadcast schedule; but aside from
that station, there was little other effective news program-
ming, and almost no competitive spirit between the stations
in the realm of news.

WSSS (soon to be WDOM) currently Operated with a
full-time news staff of two men. In addition, the news
department had one part-time employee. At very best, WSSS's
news department offered no more than a "rip and read" Opera-
tion to its listeners.

Since the two rock stations would provide WDOM with
its most direct competition, Mann knew that he would have
to familiarize himself with their Operations. Of those two
stations, one carried network newscasts and the other had
only local newscasts. This second station's newscasts were
done rapidly, with reverberation, and the station paid great
heed to news tips phoned in by listeners. Once a week, the
source of the week's best news tips received monetary awards.

Before he assumed formal control of the WDOM news

96

department, there were a number of other areas that would
have to be examined closely by Roger Mann.

For one thing, he knew that WDOM would have no net-
work affiliation, so all of his newscasts would have to
originate locally. Mann would have to give a great deal of
thought to the number of men he would want in his news de—
partment. And he would have to think of how to deploy them.

Mann would also have to decide how long his newscasts
should be and at what times they should be aired. The other
stations in the city carried newscasts that varied in length
from two and one-half to fifteen minutes; a decision would
have to be made on the prOper length for WDOM's newscasts.
Newscasts on other stations in the city were carried at a
variety of times: on the hour and half hour; at twenty
minutes before and twenty minutes after the hour; and at
five minutes before and twenty-five minutes after the hour.
Roger Mann had given some thought to broadcasting WDOM's
newscasts at fifteen minutes before and fifteen minutes
after the hour, and he wondered if, in the industrial city
in which WDOM was located such a move on his part would be
wise.

Another critical area involved deciding what news

should be covered. In other words, should WDOM be concerned

97

principally with national, international, state, or local
news; or should there be a combination of all or several
of those kinds of news? Another factor was the station's
power--—2,500 watts---and what effect, if any, it would
have on the content of the newscasts.

Roger Mann would also have to consider other matters
that were related to the physical make-up of WDOM's news-
casts. For example, should actualities be used? And how
much, if at all, should the station's fast-paced rock format
be projected into its news format? Indeed, were there any
aspects of the rock format that might lend themselves to
the programming of news?

The acquisition of a first-rate staff was yet another
consideration for Roger Mann. How could he go about it?

And should he try exclusively for experienced newsmen, or,
in some instances, would it be advisable to try to hire
younger peOple with less experience? In such a large mar-
ket, could he justify hiring younger peOple, with potential,
and bringing them around to competence by having them learn
as they work?

Roger Mann wondered about the feasibility of WDOM's
news department having an all-night newsman. At present,

no other station in the city had an all-night newsman, so

98

certainly such a move by WDOM would be a "first." Mann
wondered, however if the move would be worth the effort; he
wondered what possible dividends might come from the added
expense of employing an all-night news man.

Finally, Mann would have to decide what the selling
point of WDOM's news would be? What would WDOM be able to
say about its news department that would get peOple to begin
to turn to it as a source of information? He did not need
ratings; that fact, he knew for sure. But he also knew
that this was no excuse for not trying to attract listeners
through sound news work. He knew that WDOM's news bureau
would have to offer listeners something unique, something
they could not get at other stations. The question was, what?

There were other problems, to be sure. But basi-
cally, the situation facing Roger Mann at WDOM was to start
from scratch, so to speak, and build a news department for
a rock station in a metropolitan market of over three million
peOple. It would be extremely difficult, but at the same
time, the task represented the Opportunity Roger Mann had

always hOped for. And he was happy.

CHAPTER IV

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

This thesis contains twelve case studies in tele—
vision and radio news department management and policy. The
thesis also includes a brief chapter on the history of the
case study method, and another chapter on the methodology
used in the preparation of the thesis.

All told, three of the cases in the thesis dealt with
men who, in different situations, were faced with organizing
news bureaus. One case dealt with how to handle stories with
racial overtones, and one was concerned with the issue of
editorializing. One man spoke of the problems involved in
working for educational stations; another talked about some
of the shortcomings of a career in news work. One news dir-
ector at a UHF station wanted to attract viewers with VHF
television sets; another man wanted to organize a news bureau
in the state capitol; and another was faced with a situation
whereby his primary competition was the newspaper that owned
the station for which he worked. Finally, one man was con-
cerned with a budget and staff that were too small, and
another, the news director at an all-black station, wanted

99

100

to make his station's newscasts more meaningful to the black
community.

In reviewing the content of these cases, the reali-
zation is disturbing to the author, that, on the whole, the
news directors did not seem very concerned with the content
of newscasts and how it related to the community. Indeed,
too many of the news directors did not seem at all concerned
with precisely what kind of peOple made up their audience.

To many of the men interviewed, being a news director seemed
to involve, first and foremost, getting high ratings, be—
cause in the end, high ratings were the ultimate proof of
success. How to serve the community was not of primary impor-
tance; in fact, in most instances, the news directors did not
seem to envision their departments as important forces in the
community. With few exceptions, the men questioned seemed

to think of their bureaus as simply working in the communi-
ties in which their stations were located, not as actually
being a part of those communities.

For the most part, the news directors interviewed
exhibited a degree of reticence about divulging too many of
the problems dealing with their Operations. To be sure, all
of the peOple interviewed were honest, and spoke frankly

about the circumstances surrounding each of the cases

101

discussed in this thesis. The tOpics the news directors
were actually willing to talk about, however, seemed, for
the most part, to involve somewhat bland and uncontroversial
areas of their work. There were some exceptions to this rule,
but all too often the news directors showed great caution
about what they said, caution that might, in part, be ex—
plained by the fact that news directorships are essentially
middle-management positions, and as such are subject to
varying degrees of control from above. Plainly, if you are
a news director, you must be careful about being too frank
with strangers about your work, lest you leave yourself Open
to criticism and ramifications.

Certainly, the author does not wish to convey the
Opinion that most of the cases represented in this thesis
are without substance. To some extent, he believes that all
of the cases are useful, if for no other reason than the
fact that they are all true, and most assuredly represent
some of the kinds of problems people who hOpe to work in
the field of radio and television news are apt to face in
their chosen occupation. If questioned about whether the
cases represent an accurate cross section of problems faced
by news directors, however, the author's answer would have

to be negative.

 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baker, Robert Hunt. "Fourteen Case Studies in Radio Station
Management Based on Actual Station Problems." Un-
published Master's thesis, Michigan State University,
East Lansing, 1966.

Bollinger, Lynn L. and Day, John S. Management 9: New Enter-
prises, A Casebook 9f Problems 93 the Establishment
and Operation 9; New Businesses. Homewood, Illinois:
Richard D. Irwin, Inc., 1954.

 

 

 

 

Carson, Robert Prescott. "Twelve Case Studies in Radio
Station Management Based on Actual Station Problems."
Unpublished Master's thesis, Michigan State University,
East Lansing, 1967.

Egli, Richard Alvin. "Eleven Case Studies in Broadcasting
Management Based on Actual Station Problems." Un-
published Master's thesis, Michigan State University,
East Lansing, 1965.

McNair, Malcolm P. and Hersum, Anita C. (eds. ). The Case
Method 33 the Harvard Business School. New York:
McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1954.

Schmeling, David Gene. "Twelve Broadcast Management Case
Studies Drawn from Actual Television and Radio
Station Situations." Unpublished Master's thesis,
Michigan State University, East Lansing, 1967.

Sperle, D. Henryetta. The Case Method Technique i3
Professional Training. New York: Bureau of Pub—
lications, Teacher's College, Columbia University,
1933.

102

....JIIIIIIIII

IIIIIIIIIHIIHIIIIIIIH

3
0
3
9
2
1
3

III
I
l
l
l
l
I
I
Ill
1
I
II
III
Ill
III
III
I
1
III