The end of my broadcast career

This clip is from the News Leader on Dec. 20, 1977.

WTVR TV station manager Jack Mahoney asked for my resignation on Monday morning, Dec. 19, 1977. I refused. I figured if I was going to go, he'd have to fire me. At least then I'd be eligible for unemployment insurance.

So Jack fired me. He told me to clean out my desk, hand over my keys to the car that the station had provided, and go away.

I asked if there would be any severance pay. "No," he answered. He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I told him I had great respect for him, but that I didn't feel that it was appropriate for me to shake hands with someone who'd just fired me without severance pay. I could tell that my refusal upset him.

I went down to the newsroom, which was empty except for Jane Gardner, who was getting ready to anchor the noon newscast in about 2 hours. All of the reporters and photographers were already on the streets. I told her I had been fired and began to pack up my belongings in a cardboard box. Then I realized I didn't have a car any more, so I'd have to walk home -- a distance of about a mile. Carrying a cardboard box. Somehow, the prospect made the end seem even more pathetic.

With the grace that had always been her hallmark, Jane offered to drive me home. She'd have to leave the newsroom empty, which was something we never did during the daytime. But she insisted, and I accepted.

When I got home, I stashed the cardboard box in a closet, called my family to tell them what had happened, and spent the rest of the day puttering around the apartment. I didn't really know what else to do. I watched Jane anchor the noon newscast, but there was no mention of my firing.

In the middle of the afternoon, Jack's secretary called to say he had changed his mind about severance pay. The offer was for two weeks, and a check would be mailed to me.

At 6 p.m., my firing was the lead story on "News/90." Right after the report aired, my phone began ringing. Every time I hung up from one call, it would ring again. Friends, viewers, professional colleagues -- they all wanted to know how I was doing and what my plans were. Plans? I didn't have any. How was I doing? I was still in shock.

People in the business understood clearly what had happened. The buck stopped at my desk. The station had done what it had to do to regain its credibility.

But friends and viewers didn't understand. Over and over I heard people say, "You've been there since the early 1960s and they fired you for making one mistake?" Yep, they did. But the mistake was huge.

Then came the calls from reporters at the Times-Dispatch and the News Leader. I told them I was going to take some time to regroup. I also said this would be the first Christmas during which I'd be able to spend more time with my family. That was the kind of quote they were looking for, and it featured prominently the next day.

The next few days were a blur. The phone kept ringing non-stop. A friend who owned a Dodge dealership brought me a car and told me to use it at no cost until I got back on my feet. The manager of the Holiday Inn across the street from the station offered me a job in public relations. A group of Episcopal ministers from Richmond called to say how unfairly they thought I'd been treated and to announce that they'd be picketing the station. A radio station in Roanoke and a TV station in Norfolk called to offer me jobs. I said thanks, but no thanks. I wanted to stay in Richmond.

Two days later, both papers ran letters to the editor, all castigating WTVR. Friends suggested that perhaps the station would reverse its decision, but I knew that would never happen. It had begun to dawn on me that there might be a subtext to the story: I had made Harry Byrd Jr. very angry, and he was a crony of the man who owned WTVR.

In the years since, I have often wondered why Byrd didn't use Mark Twain's famous line, delivered after the New York Journal had erroneously printed his obituary: "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated," he said.

Christmas 1977 did turn out to be a good holiday season. I spent more time with friends and family. And gradually, the telephone stopped ringing constantly. When it did, it was usually a close friend on the other end of the line. They looked after me at a time when I needed it.

One of the calls I took over the holidays was from the young reporter who had taken the hoax call. She told me she was going to resign because she didn't think it was fair that I had been fired and she hadn't. I spent almost an hour persuading her not to give up her career. "It makes no sense for both of us to be unemployed," I told her.

(Within a year, she did resign. She went to law school and is now a very well-respected attorney in Richmond.)

Here's a tip based on what happened to me. If you're going to get fired, it helps if it makes front-page news: Everybody will know you need a job.

A week after Christmas a casual acquaintance -- a friend of my sister's -- threw me a lifeline. She had a television project for me, and it would pay well. More on that next time.