”Send the Altar Boy”

By Brian O’Keefe

I remember the stack on her desk. It was pretty big. I thought: Christmas cards in April..?  “What are you doing?”, I asked my boss of the moment, Judy Tygard. She was a senior producer at “48 Hours”, one of the many creative geniuses who worked in local news at one point or the morning network news program and came to shine in prime time and save the world. I did it backwards, starting out as Dan Rather and “48”’s researcher…then hit the morning twelve years later.
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> “I’m sending out thank you notes,” she almost whispered.  Handwritten.  Individual.  Personal and Real.  It was a ritual that she would schedule after “the storm”.  After we crashed a show….after we careened into the deeply emotional and often crisis-laden lives of complete strangers and spent at the least — two 24 hour periods with them or two weeks and then putting their faces, their children, their personal problems and inner most feelings…on national television for an unknown mass of millions to digest, witness and judge.  All that, without pay.  “It’s the least we can do.,” said St. Judith.
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> This particular group of thankees were getting a bonus: presents.  She had gathered donated clothing sent in by viewers, in boxes for the homeless people we had recently profiled and whose lives in semi-disaster we thrust upon a national audience not watching the somewhat wealthy Huxtable family on  “The Cosby Show”, our competitor.
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> Judy’s Friday ritual in the early 90’s was to me a great l esson. As members of the Fifth Estate we would intrude and dissect our subjects. The scrutiny was sometimes real tough to live through for both them and us.  Being interviewed on videotape by national journalists is sometimes a little like therapy.  After all, psychotherapy is simply talking through an issue or problem.
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> For one of my favorite Diane Sawyer essays (and there are so many) that aired on Good Morning America to mark the sixth anniversary of 9/11, I interviewed a 12 year old boy who discovered that his aunt who perished six years earlier as the first tower collapsed, had left behind a “hidden gift” and a premise for our piece.
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> After a few minutes of my questioning he began to sniffle and cry and within seconds was sobbing uncontrollably.  I ended the interview, held him, hugged him and let him cry as I mouthed to his mother, “Does he always get this emotional?”  And to my shock: “He’s never talked about her death before…this is a big step for him,” she told me as she herself was crying tears of joy.  I sniffled too.  Young Gabriel had a loving aunt who wrote a manuscript of an unpublished book about a little boy’s first day of school and how to not to be afraid on the first day of school.  It was about Gabriel and was dedicated to him.
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> I’m a pretty empathetic person.  Caring, a not so hidden gift, I got from the very best teachers: St. Judy..and my mother. (But please note: I ‘m no saint.)  My mother Bernadette Theresa O’Leary O’Keefe was a beloved ICU  burn nurse. She was the oldest daughter of ten children who lost both parents at a young age. Sensitivity is just something that comes natural to me.  “Send the altar boy,” another gem of a mentor and 60 Minutes veteran Steve Glauber would say when a particularly sensitive booking or interview required a kind, freckled Irish face to listen.
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> Glauber’s philosophy was once appreciated by Arthur Fonzarelli himself (WARNING: Fasten your seatbelts or take a Dramamine for this tangent. )

I will never forget one of the first and few 48 Hours broadcasts that included a celebrity angle. It was an hour about charity and my assignment was to cover the Carousel Ball for Diabetes run by Beverly Hills baron Marvin Davis and family. At the Merv Griffin/Golden Globes Beverly Hilton, before Merv or the Globes owned it.

 Fergie, Princess Diana’s celeb princess sister in law was the big guest of honor.  There was a mini red carpet area where famous people would comment about the charity and the event.  My questions for some reason seemed a little deeper than the local reporters around me.  Noone else nationally, save maybe CNN, were covering it since Fergie wasn’t doing press.

 So after interviewing pre-Governor Schwarzenegger, Henry “the Fonz” Winkler and a few B plus actors and actresses, the event inside began and we desperately waited for  a Fergie sighting.
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> My crew and I eventually wrapped up our equipment and was about to leave when someone came barreling out of the Ballroom and yelled, “Wait, wait!” And he was running towards us.  It was Fonzie: Henry Winkler!  Speaking to me:  “We were just talking about you at our table”…”who are you?”  Stunned I told him who we were and about our charity hour and he had better things to say: “You really listen..I could see it in your eyes..you asked the most thoughtful question that I never expected on a red carpet..ever”.  Blushing I thanked him for the compliment and said that because it was a documentary series we went a little deeper. He said something about seeing my soul, shook my hand and went back inside.
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>The Fonz saw into my soul. I was touched but a little embarrassed because I’m not so sure how real my listening is.  Because one of my producing methods is to maintain eye contact while the interviewee speaks and nod gently.  Looking at someone else will distract them and that’s very hard to maintain on a red carpet (AKA  distraction-ville.) But I do listen.
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> Years later I would meet his wife at the famous hairdresser salon where Jen Aniston and Diane and I would surprise a GMA Oscar princess (a girl who lost both her parents in high school and still went on to become valedictorian)…and told his wife about what Henry had said to me. Awkward because it didn’t seem to interest her as much as the story interested me.
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> Enough about me and my inner Dominick Dunne …and back to St. Judy.  I always thought other senior producers might be jealous of her because she was the people’s princess of senior producers.  And a Golden girl who looked half her age….to this day.
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> But one of dear Judy’s greatest and unforgettable lessons borne from her saintly character is something noone would envy. Grief.  In fact: unimaginable grief.  I can’t remember the year but it was early in our “48 Hours” togetherness.  Her family lived near Pittsburgh, an 80 minute flight away, and during that particular dark year or two, Judy would weather the awful storm of a parent’s fatal cancer. Twice. Her mother and father. Back to back, about a year apart.
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> I’m misty as I write this because the one thing Judy didn’t do is ask for sympathy. She trudged so strongly through what had to be the worst crisis of her life. Quietly.
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> In between writing thank you notes, mentoring young producers how to tell a story with heart and soul, putting together award winning full one hour broadcasts, Judy air-ferried back and forth at least once a week to Pennsylvania to doctors meetings, hospital visits and sadly, two funerals. I don’t even remember her taking much time off, save maybe after it was all over.  Even the flight attendants would know her from her weekly voyage. Noone deserved such deep heartbreak- let alone St. Judy.
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> Years later, when her colleagues Kathleen O’Connell and Marc Goldbaum would lose their son to cancer, Judy was like a mother to everyone who loved them…and their son. The neighbors, her own kids, the colleagues and former colleagues strewn all over the love-bunched television business.  Getting them through it….one day at a time.
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> So its no wonder that after a particularly magnificent show about the Clinton Inauguration  Andrew Heyward, the Executive Producer wrote an email that said, “If Judy leaves you might as well put up a sign: “48 Hours”: Gone Fishin’.”
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This woman taught me everything. Not just how to write thank you notes. “Feed your crew. ALWAYS feed your crew,” she once told me.  The cameraman and his or her audio technician lugging about 100 pounds together… mostly on one shoulder….sometimes in awkward locations …and for hours in a newfangled genre of handheld cinema veri-video.  Getting them lunch at no cost to them was repaid in spades. “Can we just get one more shot?”, I hear myself, leaving a diner off a highway in the middle of nowhere.

And of course her guidance on writing and having the viewer “fall in love with your character first”….were paramount. She nurtured young talent like no other, getting hungry tape PAs a cool shoot to tag along on. Good work was rewarded with notes, staff speeches, emails even sometimes a little gift. She is that rare class of producer almost ego less, self less, pretty much.

In my case, she did even more.   When my brief foray into syndicated television fell flat on its face after 7 months with the cancellation of Hard Copy of which I was Managing Editor…I needed to find work.

I had my heart set on two women…Shelley Ross and Diane Sawyer.  ((This is why Chris Cuomo called me a “skirt chaser” seriously…but with a giggle in his voice.))…. and what they were doing to morning television.   They were “magazining” it with show veteran and vice president Phyllis McGrady.  But despite my manipulative producing skills..I was rejected by both Phyllis and Shelley.  “We’ll keep your resume on file” both Phyllis’s typed letter and Shelley’s secretary’s email identically stated. A stone wall. A dead end. But then, a Saint came marching in – and wrote an email. Judy would always say that I created my own luck. But this time, true story, she did.

The, by now beatified, St Judy sent an urgent missive. (She oddly enough left CBS right around the time I did. Me to Hard Copy, she to ABC.) I don’t know what she wrote but she wrote it to all three women and then…maybe 6 minutes later my phone rang.

One meeting later, I was booked by Shelley Ross. I confessed how I was stalking her and DS…showed her a few 48 pieces..and I was in. It was love at first stalk…in both directions. My dream came true. Thanks to Judy.

Incidentally, her nickname perpetuated for years by me and St. Mary Murphy of Dobbs Ferry, was coined by Bernard Goldberg (most definitely not a saint but a great writer and masterful interviewer with white hair,) If I’m remembering correctly Judy was producing a “Verdict” “48 Hours” sequel show or a “48” trial based show in Orlando. She reminded the editorial team to squarely be fair to both sides of whatever story it was…hence her sainthood. St. Mary or St. Mary Noonan of Rockville Centre I’m sure will remember.

The moral to this entry: work hard, do your best and treat people right. And don’t ever forget to thank the saints in your life.

Thank you, Judy.