John Slattery was your typical local news reporter. He fit the mold: solid, good looking, professional...dependable. There was nothing flashy about him. You were just used to seeing him on the scene of a fire, a flood, a homicide, a traffic accident, or on location in some distant war zone.
. So the guy puts in 30 years (not to mention an early five or more on radio and at dinky stations in obscure towns). He gives his last report. And has a heart attack.
How do you rationalize that? What's the priest gonna say at the funeral? His work was done...he had a full life? That he didn't fucking deserve, at 63, to have five, ten, twenty good years with the wife and family, and maybe write a memoir or use his local fame for charity?
Dana Tyler, one of the local news anchors, had a tough time holding back the tears as she read the prepared statement from the CEO at CBS. After all, she saw the guy just the other day. She probably was part of whatever stupid office party was thrown for him.
Disgusting news...no, but disturbing news. A newscaster who survived covering wars and homicides and crimes...drops dead hours after his final broadcast. That sure was a final broadcast.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.