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<UID>
9602050124
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<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
961117
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, November 17, 1996
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM
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<PAGE>
1F
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<ILLUSTRATION>

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<CAPTION>

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<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

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<MEMO>

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<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1996, Detroit Free Press
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<HEADLINE>
DURING SWEEPS MONTH, IT'S UP, UP AND AWAY
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<BODY>
Let's talk about TV helicopters. 

  Let's talk about TV helicopters hovering over a police chase. Let's talk
about TV helicopters reminding us how their pictures are "exclusive" and their
pilots  heroic. Let's talk about TV helicopters creating pictures that suggest
a climax from the movie "The Fugitive."

  Then let's look at the calendar.
  As someone who works for newspapers and television,  I can tell you that
most of the time, each collects news in a unique yet professional fashion,
with a sharp eye toward accuracy and good taste.
  Except during ratings sweeps.
  Which might explain  the helicopters.
  Ratings sweeps -- month-long periods, used in the TV business -- turn
stations into rabid dogs, ready to electrify, amplify or even manufacture news
if it means more people will watch. Here's why: Ratings during these periods
determine ad rates, which determine how much money a station will make.
  Thus, the news during sweep months -- February, May and November -- is
simply more important to stations than the rest of the year.
  And as a result, dangerous stories become attractive, sex is sexier than
usual, and murder is a home run -- especially, creepy, horrifying murder.
  Which brings us to the Ford Wixom plant.
  And the helicopters.
 
Mutually exclusive
  "You're watching an exclusive report . ." was the sentence TV viewers
heard all afternoon Thursday, as a  wacko named Gerald Michael Atkins tried,
for several hours, to escape police after his rifle rampage in the Ford plant
killed one man and wounded three others.
  Not only were you reminded about the  exclusivity of the report -- which
was pretty stupid, because with three helicopters in the air, how exclusive
can it be? -- but you were also given interviews with "stress experts" who
postulated about  the pressures of factory life that might have led Atkins to
pull the trigger.
  Of course, as it turned out, Atkins didn't even work at the plant, and was
likely motivated not by stress but by an infatuation  with a woman. But such
facts require reporting, and reporting takes time, hours, maybe days. And time
is something you don't have when you're trying not to lose the viewer.
  But pictures! Pictures  are immediate! So the very expensive, high-tech
helicopters that three local  TV stations now employ were put to the test, and
they turned the whole scene into an afternoon-long movie -- with the same
voyeuristic overtones of the O.J. Simpson Bronco watch. Between the SWAT
teams, the police choppers, the armored vehicles and the heat-seeking radar,
viewers might have thought they were watching the  capture of Saddam Hussein
instead of a story that wasn't even a blip on the national stage.
  Which brings us to the question of perspective. Yes, this was a big local
story. No one wants to fear going  to work. But if the guy had turned himself
in to police  inside the plant, would we have had the same hours of TV
coverage? Would we have had an hour-long, prime-time special on Channel 7 and
a late- night  special on Channel 4 recounting the whole eye-in-the- sky
drama? 
  No? Why not? The same number of people would be dead and wounded, right?
The same horror would have taken place.
  Ah, but there  wouldn't have been a movie. It would have been less
entertaining. Which leads to an important question: Where does news end and
ratings-grabbing begin?
 
Discretion . . . all year
  Now, perhaps  my friends in the TV world are saying, "Aw, he's only
writing this because newspapers are in competition with TV." A fair statement.
And I readily admit that newspapers are as competitive as TV stations,  and
often exploit news to make flashy front pages.
  There are simply two key differences: 
  1) Newspapers do not have these dangerous ratings periods. They do not get
more credit for attracting  readers in one month than the next, thus creating
the temptation to look for sexy, dramatic news at certain key times (have you
noticed how many stations are sending their reporters on expensive, far- away
assignments this month, or how many "special investigative reports" seem
necessary this month, or how things like sex, diet, children and money -- buzz
words to attract viewers -- are magically in the  news this month?)
  2) Newspapers can only report what happened, not what's happening. This is
the great advantage of TV (and radio.) But it is also a huge responsibility.
By choosing to broadcast news events live, you are suggesting they are
important. Live broadcasters therefore need to keep things in perspective as
they're happening -- which is more important than reminding people who was
first  in the air. Or saying "exclusive" 100 times.
  I'm not saying our TV friends did not work hard or capture the facts in
this story. They did both. But reporting an event is one thing, milking it is
something else. And it's something the TV business needs to harness.
  After all, news-as-docudrama is getting more and more popular during sweeps
months. And when your annual income hangs in the balance,  it must be pretty
hard to yell "cut."
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THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
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