Newslady

NewsLady is the memoir of a trailblazing African American woman journalist whose life is about "firsts." Carole Simpson was the first woman to broadcast radio news in Chicago, The first African American woman to anchor a local newscast in the same city, The first African American woman national network television correspondent, The first African American woman to anchor a national network newscast And The first woman or minority to moderate a presidential debate. Hers is a story of survival in a male-dominated profession that placed the highest premium on white males. In this book she recounts how she endured and conquered sex discrimination and racial prejudice to reach the top ranks of her profession. Along the way she covered some of the most important news events over the four decades of her illustrious broadcasting career. Her inspirational story is for all trying to succeed in a corporate environment.

My task, I told them, was to hold the candidates' feet to the fire if necessary to get their questions answered to their satisfaction. To help accomplish that I told them I wanted to get an idea of the issues that concerned them most. They all went reaching for pieces of paper and note cards. They had all written up their questions. I said, "No, no. I don't want to hear your actual questions, just the issues you care about." I also reminded them that it was very dull television if they were to read to the candidates. I said they would come off looking much better if they memorized what they wanted to ask so that it looked like they were speaking from the heart and not a note card. They all nodded in agreement. Nobody wants to look bad on television. I decided to try them out on some of the issues that had dominated press coverage of the candidates. I asked if they were interested in the Iran-contra affair. President Bush turned out to have misled the public on how much he knew about the secret White House basement operation under President Reagan, which was selling arms to Iran and using the proceeds to support the guerillas trying to topple their government in Nicaragua. "Are you interested in that?" The voters shouted, "No." "How about the two Jennifers, one with a 'G' and one with a 'J?'" The reference was to the alleged sex scandals between George Bush and Jennifer Fitzgerald, and the one between Bill Clinton and Gennifer Flowers. The chorus of "no's" grew louder. I was playing the room. "Then how about Ross Perot and his charge of a plot against his daughter by the Black Panthers?" "No, no, no." They laughed almost in unison. With fake exasperation, I asked, "Well, then what do you care about?" "Health care." "The economy and jobs." "Social security." "Education." "Crime." "The budget deficit." "The trade deficit." "Moral values." The words and phrases coming from all directions peppered my ears. "Okay, okay. I've got it." Someone else spoke up saying he didn't like the candidates fighting among themselves and not offering the solutions to the problems that were making life difficult for too many Americans. At that particular time, President Bush and private Republican-financed groups had been running commercials casting aspersions on Clinton's character and trustworthiness. I thanked them for their candor and promised them that they would be fine representatives of America, reminding them that we would be history makers. I told them I was going to go get dressed and added, "I'll see you guys later." They applauded loudly for the last time. I knew we would all be fine and that the debate would be truly historic. Time for the all-important "getting ready for air." Larry, my stylist, would always say, "Time to make the donuts." I had chosen a red double-breasted suit. Ed Fouhy thought it was a good choice because the camera operators could more easily spot me on the floor, when they needed a shot. To complement, a white silk blouse, large pearl and gold earrings, dark hose, and plain black pumps. So patriotic was I feeling about that night that I had chosen some blue underclothing. Larry had a challenge with the makeup because I was not just being seen head-on, as if I was anchoring. I'd be seen from every angle because I would be moving about. There was thirty minutes allotted for getting miked, for final sound checks, and I asked for a few moments for my own mental preparation. Then we'd move directly into the ninety-minute live program. My make-up would have to last two hours. There would be no opportunities to touch up a shiny nose or lipstick smear. I begged Larry to work some magic because I didn't want to worry about how I looked on camera. Television viewers are so critical. He did a great job. I had on a face that would crack if I smiled too broadly. A final fingering of my hair and I was ushered to my place. The lights were ablaze. The audiences were in place. The voters waved to me and the man who had wondered about my shoes said, "You look really nice." "Thank you, sir." Everyone smiled. I had this audience with me. In order to not give preference to any candidate, they all were to take the stage at the same time coming from three different directions, but only after I had opened the program to give some introductory remarks about the historic nature of this town hall debate and our citizen questioners. A sound engineer hid my mike gear. I was connected by an IFB (the ear piece you wear) connected to the studio through which Ed, the producer, could talk to me throughout the program. He would give me time cues and remind me to cut off a candidate or a voter who was hogging time. He had told me at the outset that he would be choosing the voters for me to call on so that the cameras would have a chance to get in place. That makes for a smooth, professional production. It would also insure that people throughout the audience would get their chance to speak. That was fine with me. I had no agenda. The stage manager announced to everyone that there were five minutes to air. My precious minutes. I went over what I would say, because I didn't want to be seen reading any of my notes either. I had memorized my introduction. I thought of this as my shining moment. I knew I could handle this debate. I wouldn't blow it. I thought of all those obstacles I had to overcome in my career. I chuckled to myself and said to all those naysayers throughout my life, "Just watch me now." Cue Carole: "Good evening, I'm Carole Simpson. Welcome to the University of Richmond for the Second Presidential Debate...."