A Story Made for Television

By E. Graydon Carter

How the Reagan shooting turned the U.S. into a giant newsroom

Amid the noise and confusion of the attempt on President Ronald Reagan's life, ABC Cameraman Hank Brown coolly held his ground, keeping his camera rolling. The moment shots rang out on his right, reporters, Government officials and bystanders instinctively ducked for cover. But Brown stayed on his feet to capture a series of haunting images that by day's end were burned into the national memory: the President waving, then being jackknifed into his limousine by a Secret Service agent; Press Secretary James Brady and a Secret Service agent falling to the pavement wounded. Brown swung his camera around in the direction of the assailant, by then smothered under a swarm of armed Secret Service men and Washington, B.C., police. "Then I saw them kick a gun away, and I followed it to where it stopped near Brady's head," says Brown. "I stayed with that shot for a while, but then I was getting upset and sick and so I turned back to the scene with the assailant." During those numbing, terrifying seconds, says Brown, 32, a Viet Nam veteran, "I had to keep telling myself, 'Hank, do your job. Keep rolling. If you do it, it will help ABC and the police.' " Adds NBC Cameraman Sheldon Fielman, 42, who, eerily, had joined NBC the day President Kennedy was killed: "When it was over, me and my partner went back into the lobby and just shook. My leg was in spasms."

Their strong backs and steady nerves produced some of the most dramatic news film ever. Within half an hour of the shooting, the grim sequence was broadcast across the nation, and within two hours was transmitted around the world via satellite relay. As the tape was replayed, run through in slow-motion and held in stop action, viewers became almost numbed by what they saw. In many instances they were informed of breaking events mere seconds after anchormen. The adventure of live transmission was not, however, without its peril. Information was constantly being contradicted by new information. Most regrettably, all three networks broke the news that James Brady had died, only to reverse themselves minutes later to report that he was alive but in critical condition. As the story unfolded with all its fits and starts, American viewers caught a rare and instructive glimpse of the news-gathering process. In effect, they saw the news naked, before it is dressed up for the evening broadcasts and morning papers.

Reporters and TV correspondents on the scene had but one thing on their minds: to get to a telephone. Dean Reynolds of U.P.I. bolted to the front desk of the Washington Hilton, blurting to a clerk, "I gotta use your phone." Getting through to an editor, he shouted, "The President's been shot at!" "Let's go," replied the editor as two rewrite men joined the line, taking a sentence or two of dictation in turns before typing it into the computer. At 2:31 p.m., U.P.I, went on the air with its report, just a minute after White House Correspondent Sam Donaldson broke the story on ABC radio.

CBS Correspondent Lem Tucker, who had also witnessed the shooting, ran across the street and into a drugstore, shouting, "I'm from CBS News. I'll give you $100 to use your phone." Calling in his report, he turned to a store employee, "If I leave this phone, keep the line open.

If anyone offers you more money, I'll double it." Standing on a Lipton soup case so that he could watch the action outside the hotel, Tucker prepared a report for CBS radio that aired barely a minute after the U.P.I, report.

Moments later, Cable News Network Anchorman Bernard Shaw broadcast the first television report of the assassination attempt. A minute after that, ABC, which was rushing Brown's tape by courier to its studios near the hotel, broke into a soap opera, One Life to Live, with a similar announcement. At 2:34, ABC Anchorman Frank Reynolds went on camera. Then word came that Brown's film had arrived. Turning toward the monitor, Reynolds said, "You and I are going to look at this for the first time."

At CBS headquarters in New York City, Anchorman Dan Rather was just finishing lunch with CBS Chairman William S. Paley when he was handed a note saying that Reagan had been shot at. Rather immediately headed across town to the CBS broadcast center. "Within seconds after I walked into the building," says Rather, "I started ad-libbing. There just wasn't time for writing." He was on the air live for the next six hours.

For almost three-quarters of an hour, the networks and wire services reported that Reagan had not been hit. At 3:11 all three networks reported the awful news. "My God, the President was hit," said ABC's Reynolds.

As the afternoon progressed, it became evident that television was becoming not just the story's messenger, but part of the story itself. Ross Simpson, 39, a radio reporter for the Mutual Broadcasting System, managed to sneak up to the third floor of the hospital, where he became privy to detailed medical information about Reagan and Brady. For more than an hour he phoned his news desk with a series of exclusive reports. Finally evicted by hospital staffers, Simpson gave an extraordinary briefing to fellow reporters, which was broadcast on ABC. He accurately referred to Reagan's operation as a thoracotomy, or "open-chest surgery." NBC Correspondent Chris Wallace, 33, one of the reporters on hand for Simpson's ad hoc briefing, scribbled down "open-heart" surgery in his notebook. Repeating this a few minutes later during an on-air report, he in effect exaggerated the seriousness of Reagan's condition.

Reports that Brady had died began spreading in midafternoon. The rumor circulated among law-enforcement agents and on Capitol Hill, where an aide to Senate Majority Leader Howard Baker passed it on to reporters. CBS Correspondent Jed Duvall reported the story on the air, with Rather noting that it was not from official sources. Then, after being handed a note, the anchorman said that Brady had died and asked for a moment of silence. A.P. Reporter Maureen Santini asked White House Press Aide David Prosperi if he would find out whether the rumors were true -- at just about the same time that ABC's Bill Greenwood was asking if Brady was dead. "Yes, I will," Prosperi said to Santini, nodding his head, and Greenwood apparently mistook the sig nal as confirmation of his question -- though he insists he heard the words "he died." ABC and NBC also went with reports of Brady's death.

After word reached Reynolds that Presidential Aide Lyn Nofziger denied the report, the ABC journalist lost his composure. Fairly bristling with rage, he roared to off-camera staffers, "Let's get it nailed down, somebody. Let's find out.

Let's get the word here. Let's get it straight so we can report it accurately." For many viewers, Reynold's on-air outburst evidently heightened the drama of the day's events. The Nielsen ratings showed ABC with the largest share of the audience in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles.

Newspapers like the Chicago Sun-Times, Chicago Tribune, New York Post and New York Daily News replated their late-afternoon editions to report the assassination try. The Dallas Morning News put out its first extra in 33 years, printing 27,000 copies. Large morning papers provided exhaustive coverage the following day, filling in the gaps left by television news. Abroad, the shooting received al most as much coverage as it did in the U.S., with papers like the Rand Daily Mail in South Africa and the Times of London devoting then-- entire front pages to the story.

Thirty years ago, such comprehensive reporting would have been the talk of journalism. But last week its impact was dimmed by television's performance -- of ten confused, sometimes wrong, but al ways breathtaking. For one draining afternoon, TV turned America into a giant newsroom.

--By E. Graydon Carter.

Reported by Johanna McGeary and Susan Schindehette/Washington

With reporting by Johanna McGeary, Susan Schindehette

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