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     This Just
  In: What I Couldn’t Tell You on TV by Bob Schieffer   Rating: ••• (Recommended)    | 
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   Conversational It’s easy to imagine yourself sitting at
  the dinner table with Bob Schieffer and listening to his stories, as you read
  the pages of This Just
  In. After I read the first few chapters, I switched to the audio version,
  narrated by Schieffer, and found that sensation enhanced. Here’s an excerpt
  from Chapter 18, Stumbling Along, pp. 233-5: Here's
  the difference between covering the White House and the other Washington
  beats. When you're the Pentagon correspondent, for example, and the secretary
  of defense takes his vacation, you can take your own vacation. Or just go
  home. When
  you're the White House correspondent and the president goes on vacation, you
  have to go with him. If that president was Jimmy Carter and he was taking a
  few days off in Plains, Georgia, and he didn’t want you along anyway, that
  could be fairly tedious, especially if it was over a holiday. If the
  president was Jerry Ford, it wasn't a bad deal at all. Ford owned a condo in
  the resort of Vail, Colorado, and for years, he and his family had been going
  there over the Christmas holidays to ski. When the White House announced that
  Ford intended to continue the traditional trip as president, and that the
  press corps who traveled with him would be allowed to take our families along
  on the press plane (we had to pay their way, of course), it seemed a great way to
  celebrate Christmas
  and ring in the New Year. Pat, and Susan, who had just turned five, and her
  sister Sharon, who was three, joined me on the press plane, with families of
  the other reporters. We rented a house on one of the Vail ski slopes from a
  man who had made his fortune as Vail's first garbage hauler, and invited my
  mother and brother and sister to come out from Fort Worth and join us. It
  turned out to be a great vacation for them—and for Ford, who went skiing every
  day. But
  there is a difference between going on vacation and watching someone else
  take a vacation, and even though Ford was doing little of consequence, the
  holiday season is always a slow news period and the Evening News
  broadcasts at all three networks wanted stories from us almost every night,
  which meant we had to do a certain amount of work. Gathering
  the news—and there wasn't much of it—wasn't the problem. Ford's new press
  secretary, Ron Nessen, a former NBC reporter, would hold a briefing, and then
  Ford would head to the ski slopes. We would trudge after him and get some
  pictures as he came skiing by with his family and Secret Service agents. Everyone
  who has ever skied knows that even the most adept skier occasionally takes a
  fall, but when the president of the United States takes a fall, that's news,
  and in a slow holiday news period, it was big news, and Ford took several
  tumbles. The
  coverage provoked considerable criticism, especially from some of Ford's
  aides, but as John Chancellor of NBC said, "When the president of the
  United States takes a header, what are you gonna do? Keep it a secret?"
  And at first. Ford himself didn't seem to mind. Putting
  together a story of the president falling on the ski slopes is not the
  hardest kind of journalistic task. It boils down to saying "Watch
  this!" and showing the pictures. The hard part was getting the story on
  the air. To do that, the three networks chartered a huge Alouette helicopter,
  which flew out from Denver each day and picked up one correspondent and one
  producer from each network and then flew us back over the Rocky Mountains to
  Denver, where we could develop our film at the local affiliate station and
  transmit our stories over leased telephone lines back to CBS News
  headquarters in New York. It was not an inexpensive proposition. In those days, it cost
  about a dollar a mile to lease the line to transmit the story back to New
  York, and when you added in the cost of the helicopter and other incidentals,
  such as lodging and transportation costs for correspondents and producers,
  the reports on Ford's ski accidents probably cost in the neighborhood of
  $25,000 each. It
  took something over an hour to get to Denver from Vail, and on clear days,
  the helicopter ride was breathtaking. One minute, the ground would be only a
  hundred feet below the chopper, then it would pass over a mountain peak and
  the ground would suddenly be thousands of feet below. It
  was not the view that took my breath away on the first flight. It was when
  the pilot told us that the air was so thin at those altitudes that the
  helicopter did not have enough power to get over the highest peaks.  Not
  to worry, he told us; the standard procedure was simply to wait until there
  was an updraft, which would easily lift us as high as we needed to go. It
  seemed to work. As we headed toward the highest peaks, he would simply fly
  the helicopter in lazy circles as he waited for a draft to give us the lift we needed and, sure
  enough, we would then be on our way. There
  was one other breathtaker. The weather was not always clear. On one-flight,
  we got caught in a white-out caused by blinding snow. I had been shot at on
  the Ole Miss campus and flown dive-bombing missions in Vietnam, but flying around in
  the mountains in a helicopter when the visibility was zero was not my idea of
  fun.  "This is great," I remember
  telling producer Mark Harrington, who was with me that day. "We're going to be
  killed trying to get a news story on the air about the president falling down
  on his skis."   When
  we landed in Denver that day, I was fairly shaken, and when Harrington and I
  called the Evening News in New York to tell the executive
  producer, Paul Greenberg, what we had in mind for a story that night, I was
  soon babbling about the harrowing flight. "I
  understand," he said, "but I've got big problems here. I can't be
  dealing with all that." Such
  is the world of television on deadline. Filing
  a story from Vail, in the Rocky Mountain time zone, meant that we were up
  against an early deadline. The News aired at 6:30 P.M. back on the
  East Coast, 4:30 in Denver, which meant we had to have the film developed and
  the story edited and ready for transmission to New York by around 4 P.M.
  Denver time. That meant that once we flew there from Vail, drove to the local
  television station and got the film developed, we had about forty-five
  minutes, never more than an hour, to get our story done. Since
  the networks didn't want to pay for another helicopter to take us back to
  Vail, we rented cars for the return trip, and since the mountain road between
  Denver and Vail was only two lanes in those days, the trip usually took four
  hours. That meant we were lucky to get back to Vail by 9 P.M. Except for a
  couple of exceptions, we repeated the process daily for two weeks. Even with the daily travel, the Vail
  encampment was not without its pleasures. Once we got into the routine, we
  were up early and took ski lessons before we began the day's news-gathering.
  On Christmas Eve, Ford put on a "news lid" for the evening and the
  next day, promising no announcements of any kind unless some emergency arose. My
  mother had brought out a big batch of tamales from Texas, and Tom Brokaw,
  then the NBC White House correspondent, and I threw a party one night for the
  press corps. Ford dropped by and, being the perfect hostess, Morn prepared
  the president a plate of tamales, carefully removing the tamales' corn-husk
  wrappings. It
  was a move she would always regret. The next year when Ford had begun to
  campaign for president, he went to Texas and, during a stop at the Alamo in
  San Antonio, someone gave him a tamale. Ford took a big bite—corn husk and
  all—and of course had to spit out the husk, to the delight of photographers. "The
  poor man didn't know tamales had a husk," Morn lamented. "If I'd
  just showed him how to unwrap them instead of removing those husks, he would
  have known." Schieffer brings similar energy to all his
  stories, and even his throw away lines are good. Pretend your listening to an
  engaging conversation as you read (or listen to) Shieffer’s memoir, This Just
  In. Steve Hopkins, June 21, 2003  | 
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   ã 2003 Hopkins and Company, LLC   The
  recommendation rating for this book appeared in the July 2003
  issue of Executive
  Times URL
  for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/This
  Just In.htm   For
  Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins
  & Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com    | 
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