A window

About eight years ago I was sitting in a hotel room in Beverly Hills with Carroll O’Connor, interviewing him about the suicide of his son which was brought about by years of drug abuse. At that moment I was having a complete out-of-body experience. How did I get here?

I was sitting across from Archie Bunker himself, a man who was as gentle and mild as his alter-ego was loud and abrasive. I lobbed some softballs at him before I got into the meat of the interview, which would focus on his son’s tragic death. He answered each question thoughtfully, but there was a sense he wanted to move on, and discuss his son.

By this point he had spoken to whoever would listen about the scourge of drugs and how they contributed to his son’s suicide, so it wasn’t like I was a special case. It was by no means an exclusive. By this time he had an agenda and I was one of many who helped him carry it out.

Because I’m a pop culture junkie I was awestruck to be in this man’s presence, an American icon that changed the face of television forever. I’m often quick to say this experience was the highlight of my career in journalism but that’s because he was a celebrity - a lovely man, but a celebrity nonetheless.

When I was a reporter I tended to turn my nose up at the stories that centered on events over people. I preferred feature to hard news. What I loved most was sitting down with someone and hearing their life story. Very often these people would try to beg out of an interview, for fear of being seen as publicity hungry. Usually their stories had the potential to inspire others to good work, and that was my stock line when trying to convince them to consent to an interview.

99.9% of them said yes and more often than not the first person they inspired was me. Obviously, I never followed explicitly in their footsteps but they often rekindled my faith in humanity.

There was nothing more satisfying than establishing a one-on-one rapport with a subject. Sometimes they would need some gentle prodding and other times you were lucky if you got to ask two scripted questions. Sometimes you steered the interview and sometimes the interview steered you. Even if I did not share a personal interest in what we were discussing I was often fascinated by their journey and energized by their enthusiasm.

For five years I was constantly meeting people who did so much good, and a good many of them had experienced some kind of tragedy or hardship that was spurring them to action. It was impossible not to be moved by them.

I was also consistently amazed that these people trusted me enough to allow me this intimate look into their lives, and that I would distill a far-reaching conversation into something accurate and coherent, that captured who they were. I always loved the moment where you knew you had established trust and the rapport was there. I think I loved it more than the writing aspect of the assignment.

Growing up I believed I did two things reasonably well – writing and talking. I enjoyed both and indulged in them as often as possible (when I say “talk” I mean really converse about something substantial). When the time came to buckle down and think about a career path I only had this vague notion about getting paid for doing what I did best. I regret not being more proactive in this enterprise, but somehow I backed into a career where I get paid to do those two things I love so much.

I never had a head for business, math, science – all the money making professions! But that’s OK. I do what I love and I make ends meet.

I haven’t been a reporter for some time but my current position does allow me the occasional interview, and it’s in those moments I feel the most personal and professional satisfaction.