Arthur Hailey: Evening News

From Dallas-Fort Worth, this word just in on what may be a tragedy in the making. We know that minutes ago there was a midair collision between two passenger planes, one a heavily loaded Airbus of Muskegon Airlines. It happened over the town of Gainesville, Texas, north of Dallas, and Associated Press reports the other plane—a small one, it's believed—went down. There is no word at this moment on its fate or of casualties on the ground The Airbus is still in the air, but on fire as its pilots attempt to reach Dallas Fort Worth Airport for a landing. On the ground, fire fighters and ambulance crews are standing by . . .

While his fingers raced across the keyboard, Sloane reflected in a corner of his mind that few, if any, viewers would switch off until tonight's news was concluded. He added a sentence to the tell story about staying tuned for further developments, then hit a key for printout. Over at Teleprompter they would get a printout too, so that by the time he reached the broadcast studio, one floor below, it would be ready for him to read from the prompter screen.

As Sloane, a sheaf of papers in hand, quickly headed for the stairs to the third floor, Insen was demanding of a senior producer, "Dammit, what about pictures from DFW?”

"Chuck, it doesn't look good.”The producer, a phone cradled in his shoulder, was talking to the national editor in the main newsroom.”The burning airplane is getting near the airport but our camera crew is twenty miles away. They won't make it in time.”

Insen swore in frustration.”Shit!”

* * *

If medals were awarded for dangerous service in the field of television, Ernie LaSalle, the national editor, would have had a chestful. Although only twenty-nine, he had served with distinction and frequent peril as a CBA field producer in Lebanon, Iran, Angola, the Falklands, Nicaragua and other messy places while ugly situations were erupting. Though the same kind of situations were still happening, nowadays LaSalle viewed the domestic American scene, which could be equally messy at times, from a comfortable upholstered chair in a glass-paneled office overlooking the main newsroom.

LaSalle was compact and small-boned, energetic, neatly bearded and carefully dressed—a yuppie type, some said. As national editor his responsibilities were large and he was one of two senior functionaries in the newsroom. The other was the foreign editor. Both had newsroom desks which they occupied when any particular story became hot and either was closely involved. The Dallas-Fort Worth Airport story was hot—ergo, LaSalle had rushed to his newsroom desk.

The newsroom was one floor below the Horseshoe. So was the news broadcast studio, which used the bustling newsroom as its visual backdrop. A control room, where a director put the technical components of each broadcast together, was in the News Building basement.

It was now seven minutes since the Dallas bureau chief had first reported the wounded Airbus approaching DFW. LaSalle slammed down one phone and picked up another, at the same time reading a computer screen alongside him on which a new AP report had just appeared. He was continuing to do everything he could to ensure coverage of the story, at the same time keeping the Horseshoe advised of developments.

It was LaSalle who reported the dispiriting news about CBA's nearest camera crew—though now rushing toward DFW and ignoring speed limits en route, still twenty miles from the scene of action. The reason was that it had been a busy day at the Dallas bureau, with all camera crews, field producers and correspondents out on assignment, and by sheer bad luck all of the assignments were a long way from the airport.

Of course, there would be some pictures forthcoming shortly, but they would be after the fact and not of the critical Airbus landing, which was certain to be spectacular and perhaps disastrous. It was also unlikely that pictures of any kind would be available for the first feed of the National Evening News, which went via satellite to most of the eastern seaboard and parts of the Midwest.

The only consolation was that the Dallas bureau chief had learned that no other network or local station had a camera crew at the airport either, though like CBA's others were on the way.

From his newsroom desk Ernie LaSalle, still busy with telephones, could see the usual pre-broadcast action in the brightly lit news studio as Crawford Sloane came in. Television viewers watching Sloane during a broadcast had the illusion that the anchorman was in, and part of, the newsroom. But in fact there was thick soundproof glass between the two so that no newsroom noises intruded, except when deliberately faded in as an audio effect.

The time was 6:28 P.m., two minutes before first-feed air.

* * *

As Sloane slipped into the anchor desk chair, his back to the newsroom and facing the center camera of three, a makeup girl moved in. Ten minutes earlier Sloane had had makeup applied in a small private room adjoining his office, but since then he had been sweating. Now the girl mopped his forehead, dabbed on powder, ran a comb through his hair and applied a touch of hair spray.

With a hint of impatience Sloane murmured, "Thanks, Nina,” then glanced over his papers, checking that the opening words of his tell story on top corresponded with those displayed in large letters on the Teleprompter in front of him, from which he would read while appearing to look directly at viewers. The papers which news readers were often seen to shuffle were a precaution, for use only if the Teleprompter failed.

The studio stage manager called out loudly, "One minute!”

* * *

In the newsroom, Ernie LaSalle suddenly sat up straight, attentive, startled.

About a minute earlier, the Dallas bureau chief had excused himself from the line on which he had been talking with LaSalle to take another phone call, Waiting, LaSalle could hear the bureau chief's voice but not what was being said. Now the bureau man returned and what he reported caused the national editor to smile broadly.

LaSalle picked up a red reporting telephone on his desk which connected him, through amplified speakers, to every section of the news operation.

”National desk. LaSalle. Good news. We now have immediate coverage at DFW airport. In the terminal building, waiting for flight connections, are Partridge, Abrams, Van Canh. Abrams just reported to Dallas bureau—they are onto the story and running. More: A mobile satellite van has abandoned another assignment and is en route to DFW, expected soonest. Satellite feed time, Dallas to New York, is booked. We expect pictures in time for inclusion in the first-feed news.”

Though he tried to sound laconic, LaSalle found it hard to keep the satisfaction from his voice. As if in response, a muffled cheer drifted down the open stairway from the Horseshoe above. Crawford Sloane, in the studio, also swung around and gave LaSalle a cheerful thumbs up.

An aide put a paper in front of the national editor who glanced at it, then continued on the speakerphone, "Also from Abrams, this report: On board Airbus in distress are 286 passengers, eleven crew. Second plane in collision, a private Piper Cheyenne, crashed in Gainesville, no survivors. There are other casualties on ground, no details, numbers or seriousness. Airbus has one engine ripped off, is attempting landing on remaining engine. Air Traffic Control reportsfire isfrom the location of missing engine. Report ends.”

LaSalle thought: Everything that had come from Dallas in the past few minutes was totally professional. But then, it was not surprising because the team of Abrams, Partridge and Van Canh was one of the crack combinations of CBA News. Rita Abrams, once a correspondent and now a senior field producer, was noted for her quick assessment of situations and a resourcefulness in getting stories back, even under difficult conditions. Harry Partridge was one of the. best correspondents in the business. He normally specialized in war stories and, like Crawford Sloane, had reported from Vietnam, but could be relied on to do an exceptional job in any situation. And cameraman Minh Van Canh, once a Vietnamese and now an American citizen, was noted for his fine pictures sometimes shot in dangerous situations with disregard for his own safety. The fact that the three of them were onto the Dallas story guaranteed that it would be well handled.