Telling Tragedy

Throughout this week, I've found The New York Times' coverage of the Virginia Tech tragedy to be particularly compelling. But one of the most interesting articles was not on the front page, it was on the cover of the arts section--and it was about the role nightly news anchors have played in this week's television coverage.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/19/arts/television/19watc.html



The article started with a referrence to Charlie Rose's interview with Brian Williams, when Williams said this:

Broadcast has changed. But a few things have not changed: that is, sometimes when there's tragedy, people come back to the so-called mainstream, they come back to the television networks and the newcasts--like the one I anchor. We believe that still to be a societal trend.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8296210094950493429&q=charlie+rose+brian+williams&hl=en

After I read the article and watched the Charlie Rose interview, I started think more and more about Williams' comment. I think back to September 11th and how glued I was to my television screen, despite the fact that the tragedy was unfolding practically outside my Manhattan apartment window.

There's something inexplicably reassuring about the connection you can have with a television anchor. Of the many memories I have of September 11th, one of the strongest is of watching Peter Jennings for what felt like 76 hours straight. There was a comfort in seeing his mix of steadfast composure and insupressable grief.

I agree with Williams that the role of newcasters as protectors and informers is never more apparent than during a tragedy. But I also, like The New York Times reporter, found the nightly news coverage this week a little too effusive. Perhaps the difference was my own proximity to the tragedy. Perhaps the difference was the danger I felt during one and the pure grief I felt in the other.

But perhaps the difference was simply the reality that, with each new tragedy, the media is more and more prepared. On September 11th, it seemed that newcasters were trying to remain composed and neutral but physically couldn't because of their own overwhelming grief. This week, it seemed the newcasters made a choice to show their grief and to make their own presence particularly emotionally driven. It's a subtle difference, but one that I think translates dramatically.

The Times writer, Alessandra Stanley, pointed out Katie Couric's quick arrival in Virginia--only to set up shop inside the Alumni Club, from where she conducted interviews that felt particularly like a psychologist's session. The notable exception, Stanley said, was Charles Gibson. Not only did he wait a day before traveling to Virginia, but he also remained significantly more composed throughout his coverage.

When tragedy strikes, all eyes may turn back to traditional television news. But there's a delicate balance to walk as a newscaster when those eyes are turned.