FairfieldNow

    Tabloid Revolution


    By Nancy C. Lilley M.A. '85, Media Relations Specialist

    reelHe never lived on campus. In his sophomore year at Fairfield he moved to a shack on the beach behind the Nautilus where his band, The Hormones, played punk rock for beers. And though he was taking a full course load as an English major and working 30 hours a week at a gun factory in Southport, he still found time to direct the programming at the University's radio station, WVOF, which provided an outlet for his creative, restless nature. His hectic schedule must have foreshadowed things to come since, ten years after graduating, this Fairfield University alumnus propelled himself to the forefront of the biggest revolution to hit broadcast journalism since Edward R. Murrow presided over the coronation of CBS News in the 1950s.

    This alumnus is Burt Kearns, Class of 1978, and author of Tabloid Baby, an insider's memoir of the advent of tabloid television which debuted with programs like A Current Affair and Hard Copy - both of which he produced. Kearns claims his Jesuit education gave him the discipline to flourish in the hard-driving, hard-drinking world of tabloid television. He says he acquired that discipline by "living through a semester's course" with Father John McIntyre, S.J., "the strictest, most demanding, frustrating professor I ever had."

    "I tried everything I could think of to get out of that class," says Kearns with a wince in his voice. "But in the end I stuck with it and Father McIntyre wound up teaching me discipline - which was most important because, as undisciplined as we are in our lives, all the best 'journos' I know are very disciplined at their trade. And, he showed me the importance of language - that authors don't 'try to' say something; they say it."

    Kearns also cites another semester-long course on Ulysses, taught by Prof. Lou Berrone, as contributing to his well-rounded education. "Imagine wanting to be a writer and getting the opportunity to spend an entire semester with James Joyce!" he says. "It doesn't get much better than that."

    Kearns fondly recalled his stint at the then fledgling radio station WVOF where he spent most of his spare time. "I inaugurated and hosted a talk show called Radio Anarchy," he says. "We allowed students to talk about whatever they wanted to on the air. It was pretty innovative at the time." In addition, his job as program director for WVOF also provided an outlet to indulge his lifelong passion for rock music.

    His road to the rough and tumble world of tabloid television was rather conventional. He began his career as a freelance writer for the local Fairfield Citizen-News and, upon graduation, took a job as a reporter at The Ridgefield Press. After only two years he moved on to its sister paper, The Wilton Bulletin, as its editor.

    "I did it all," he says. "I wrote the stories; I covered planning and zoning meetings; I went to Rotary Club luncheons and I ran around town taking photos of everything. I covered the town. That was my grad school."

    Kearns soon grew bored with small town news and suburban life and decided to take his chances in the Big Apple. "This girl I knew at Fairfield U. had a boyfriend who worked for Metromedia's Channel 5. I contacted him and the next thing I knew I was working on the assignment desk at WNEW-TV, Channel 5's Ten O'clock News." To boost his entry level salary, he'd leave right after his show and race across town to moonlight as a writer for CBS' Nightwatch and the CBS Morning News.

    Two years later, Kearns moved over to NBC where he was made the producer of WNBC-TV News 4's Eleven O'clock News, the highest rated local TV news show in New York. At first it was heady stuff, but "I soon got frustrated working for network news," he says. "The idea is for every news outlet to get the same story and present it first - or else in a different way." Then GE and its Chairman "Neutron Jack" Welch took over the network. "He saw waste and aimed to eliminate it," causing the network's union of 3,000 writers, editors and technicians to strike.

    The 17-week strike ended in defeat for the union and life at WNBC-TV was never the same. Temporary workers filled union jobs, overtime evaporated, positions were combined, benefits eroded, and the bottom line became the name of the game. Kearns sensed his days at News 4 were numbered, settled into an uneasy routine, and contemplated life as a corporate drone.

    Meanwhile an Australian named Rupert Murdoch had added Metromedia to his Fox News empire and was launching A Current Affair - a new show that was breaking all the rules of network news. They paid for stories. They re-enacted crime scenes. They used music to dramatize stories and sometimes questionable tactics to get home videos of ordinary people in all kinds of situations.

    His old buddies at Channel 5 started phoning Kearns trying to lure him back. "Things were exciting," they said. "The airwaves were opening to different kinds of stories run by different kinds of people." Murdoch had gone to the bars of Australia where he'd hired "journos" who had different sensibilities than American journalists. The guy in charge of A Current Affair was "a crazed Australian genius" named Peter Brennan and its host was a "semi-washed-up journeyman anchor" named Maury Povich.

    So, in 1989 Kearns jumped ship and joined forces with the Aussies to produce A Current Affair. "We had our own agenda," he says. "We did the stories no one else did. I'd have 200 local newspapers from across America delivered to my desk every day. I'd go though the Metro sections and look for the small town stories with age-old themes of love, lust, murder and mayhem that had national implications," he explains.

    Tabloid Baby"During this time we had all these stories to ourselves because network news was so far removed from everyday American life. The men behind ACA were foreigners who had a far better understanding of the national psyche then the network newspeople who spent their careers in windowless rooms. The Australians were experienced cynical newspaper veterans. For them, news-telling wasn't the privilege of the elite.

    "We had a Front Page mentality," he remembers. "Peter Brennan ran the show from a bar. He'd write down all the information on cocktail napkins and, of course, I'd have to stay there with him in order to get the show on the air. It was pretty stimulating stuff for a suburban kid from Trumbull, Conn. - hanging out in a bar 24-hours a day, living and breathing the show, fueled by alcohol and adrenaline. It was a very romantic, exciting time."

    A Current Affair was a smash hit - the hottest, boldest new show to hit the airwaves in decades. They covered it all: the William Kennedy Smith trial, the Preppy murder case, the Rob Lowe scandal, Joey Buttafuoco, Son of Sam, even the fall of the Berlin Wall. Kearns stayed with the show until the summer of 1990 and then he and the "bad-boy" Aussies moved on to Hard Copy - and to California.

    The tabloid TV genre continued to dominate the airwaves for most of the 1990s and Kearns kept surfacing as producer or consultant for A Current Affair until 1995. The success of ACA and Hard Copy spawned such shows as Inside Edition, An American Journal, and Premiere Story - a late-night newsmagazine alternative to Nightline which Kearns also produced. And then it was over.

    A Current Affair died in 1996; Hard Copy followed suit in 2000. "They were killed by their own success," opines Kearns. "The tabloid shows no longer offered an alternate take on anything." Beginning with the O.J. Simpson story, the mainstream media, ever conscious of the ratings, took over tabloid TV, cleaned it up, softened it and turned it into Entertainment Tonight, 20/20, and Dateline - escalating to new heights "during the Lewinsky scandal and Clinton shenanigans." Even the venerable 60 Minutes devoted much of its time to the fodder that fed tabloid TV.

    Kearns reflects that his tabloid experience "gave me a chance to sail with the pirates, to walk a thin line between revolution and anarchy, and to break down the barriers that the television news establishment had spent decades building." He says he hopes "we were able to democratize our selection of stories, by the way they were told and by the people who were allowed to present them."

    He spent three years writing his book Tabloid Baby, "the best-reviewed media book you've never heard of," which was launched with a bang in 1999 at bi-coastal parties in New York and Los Angeles. It received rave reviews from the likes of 60 Minutes' Mike Wallace, former anchor Maury Povich, and New York Post columnist Steve Dunleavy. Kearns geared up for a promo tour that included bookings on shows like Larry King Live, Dateline, Access Hollywood, and Roseanne.

    Suddenly, all his scheduled appearances were cancelled. The networks and major print media "pulled the plug" and staged a full-fledged publicity blackout because the "bigwigs" decided Kearns' book had attacked their sacred cows.

    Nonetheless Kearns soldiered on with his own 20-city book tour that began, appropriately enough, at Waldenbooks in Trumbull (where his sister hired a gospel choir), and continued throughout the nation with bookings on local radio and television stations. Tabloid Baby became a bestseller in Australia and was ranked No. 1 in Amazon.com's Radio & Television section.

    In 2000 Columbia Tri-Star bought the movie and television rights and is working with Tony Danza's Katyface Productions to produce either a movie or television series tentatively titled The Sopranos of Television News. Kearns' website, Tabloidbaby.com, continues to promote the book, which will be reissued sometime this year, targeted to journalism schools and media sections of bookstores.

    Kearns presently owns a production company, Frozen Television, with his partner Brett Hudson - also known as actress Kate Hudson's uncle. He has been producing a variety of documentaries for Court TV, called Mug Shots, the most recent of which profiled Sean Puffy Combs; Andrew Cunanan, the murderer of Versace; the Skakel case; and Mary Kay Letourneau, the teacher who became involved with a 13-year-old student. He plans to continue making documentaries, although he confesses he'd love to write another book.

    "I've already done one book on the Australian influence on American TV," he says, "now I'd like to write about the British influence on America - specifically the Liverpool influence."

    And speaking of British influences, Kearns is married to British television host, journalist, and producer, Alison Holloway, and is the father of two children: a son Sam, 5, and a daughter, Sally Jade, born in May. They live in Pacific Palisades, California.

    Kearns, now 45, doesn't especially espouse graduate school for journalists but instead advises those who are drawn to the industry to take a job on a small town newspaper and learn the ropes. "Just get out there and do it," he says. He believes Tabloid Baby would be a useful teaching tool for journalism students, not necessarily as a primer but perhaps a cautionary tale. "It shows that even though I didn't have a mentor in television or news, I was able to learn my way around."

    He says he "misses the friendships, the competition, the excitement of grabbing a story and owning it, as well as all the danger that went with the decisions we made." However, life now is better than ever in ways he "never would have imagined. I didn't get married or have children until I was 40," he says, but "being a father is the greatest responsibility I've ever undertaken. And the most rewarding."


    Booze Brothers Burt Kearns

    Who would have thought that the angel-faced Fairfield graduate (top right), would one day help usher in the tabloid TV revolution? At top (l-r), Kearns and field producer Wayne Darwen do their "Booze Brothers" routine, a lifestyle each has since left behind.


    Showgirl

    late-night scriptingThe wild, heady days of showgirls, late-night scripting (with attorney Rafael Abramovitz at his side), and producing tabloid TV are a thing of the past. Today, Burt Kearns has turned his attention to more mainstream pursuits, including the joys of parenting Sam (below, now 5) and Sally Jade (3 months) with his wife, Alison.

    Abbey Road


    Page courtesy of Fall 2001 FairfieldNow

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