I had compelling personal reasons as well as sound professional reasons to travel to the Pacific Northwest to interview retired Hawaii newsman Bob Sevey for PBS Hawaii's newest weekly show Long Story Short.
You can see the interview, in two parts, this coming Tuesday, Nov. 20th, and the following Tuesday, the 27th, at 7:30 p.m. Nearly 80, Bob remains a masterful communicator and he shared marvelous perspective--with some surprises.
Bob Sevey is the man whom all of Hawaii knew and respected in his 20-year run as reigning news anchor--a huge presence in a time without cable TV or internet to fragment the audience.
He's also the reason I got into broadcasting. And he stuck with me in TV news, giving me more positions of responsibility.
Bob was Hawaii's Walter Cronkite. When he called to offer me a job in television news more than 30 years ago, I felt like looking behind me to see if folks were standing around, ready to laugh at the practical joke.
I was a young newspaper reporter, with no experience in broadcasting. Bob was an icon who had the credibility and the means to hire the best professionals for his hands-down, most-watched TV news in Hawaii. Many of my TV-savvy news colleagues had applied for the job Bob was offering me.
I pointed out my shortcomings. Bob listened patiently and simply said he thought I'd do a good job. I eventually stammered out a "no, thank you," giving him the reason that a labor action was looming and I didn't want to cross a picket line as my first step into a new field.
I thought that was that.
But a few months later, after the union dispute was settled and the picket lines dispersed, Bob called again.
This time, I accepted the job. He had more confidence in me than I did.
For many months as I reported for KGMB News, I thought my original misgivings were proving correct. I delivered my reports in sing-song, my hand shook occasionally as I held a microphone, my hair always found a way to misbehave and become a distraction to viewers.
I worried that Bob would call me in and say, "You were right, Wilcox. You're not cut out for TV."
When he didn't, I went to see him. "I'm sorry. I know I look like an idiot but I can't seem to do anything about it," I told him.
He didn't deny that I looked like an idiot! But he was unconcerned, saying one could pick up television polish and presentation skills. But what he needed most were people who could go out and dig up a good news story and tell it fairly. And he had no problem with my ability to do that.
I don't know any television news director today who would be willing to forego television technique for substance.
Fortunately, along the way, rubbing up against all of the talent in that newsroom, I learned to feel comfortable on TV. I began to write my reports for the ear rather than for the eye. I pictured myself speaking to friends and family and developed a more conversational style of reporting. I became an anchor as well as a field reporter.
Today I'm at the helm of this television station.
And it's all because Bob Sevey had the confidence to take a chance on me.
So--it was a great joy to see him again, living in retirement outside Seattle, and to talk with him about his life journey--the paths he took, the perspectives he gained, the memories he carries.
And it is a great sadness to hear his personal news. He has inoperable cancer.
His newsroom nickname was always "Cap" for Captain--because he loved sailing and because he ran our newsroom like a boat in changing conditions that required decisiveness, teamwork and constant care.
Cap is facing cancer like the captain he is. He's vigilant and he's prepared to make the best choices possible in an unknown sea.
He's feeling good, better than doctors figured he would. And the chemotherapy hasn't bothered him.
That bodes well as he scans the horizon. "I'm planning a cruise in January" he says, "and I'm still buying green bananas!"
Safe travels, Cap, as you continue to lead by example.
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