Good to be King
By King Harris
It was May of 1990. At the time, I was the news director and anchor at KEYT-TV in Santa Barbara and I was looking for a co-anchor to replace Paula Lopez, who had left for Hollywood, when the phone rang.
“Hello, this is King,” I said.
“Mr. Harris, this is Deborah Davidson calling from Tuscon. I understand you have an opening for an anchor?”
“We sure do,” I replied. “Send me a tape and resumé and I’ll get back to you.”
“Will do. Thanks, bye.”
It took me less than a minute before I realized who it was that called me. Holy smokes! I had just talked with Debby Davidson, whom I had seen over the years as an anchor at KTLA Channel 5 in Los Angeles.
Could I acquire a major market TV news personality for small-market KEYT?
I called her right back and told her to come up and see me, which she did. Despite a limited budget to say the least, I knew I had several things going for me — I had a resourceful and tremendous general manager in Sandy Benton; we had an award-winning news department with great photographers and reporters; we were in scenic Santa Barbara; and Debby was frustrated and disillusioned with the profession.
By that I mean it ain’t easy being a woman in the male-dominated profession where, at too many stations, the male anchors present all the hard news and the females read all the fluff.
I learned a long time ago that despite the whims of consultants, women were just as credible and capable — some even more so — than their male counterparts.
Having once worked with the highly spirited, Christine Craft, taught me that on the set, we’re even.
I remember tossing it to our sports guy at the time, “Well Mike, I guess the big word in sports tonight is déjà vu.”
At which Christine blurted out, “That’s not one word, that’s two words!” ‘nuff said.
Debby Davidson was just as emphatic, in her own stylish way. She was precise and meticulous, if not nearly perfect. She was well spoken and articulate. And in addition to being a skilled reporter, she was also a great interviewer and a very good listener.
He shined particularly bright in all of the telethons we did, especially Christmas Unity, where she out sparkled all the lights, ornaments, and poinsettias, even the tree.
What set Debby apart I think was one quality that you rarely see in television news, big market or small — she was a class act.
Which is why I didn’t mind at all meeting one of her requests upon her hiring, that she and I would exchange openings to the news every other night: “KEYT News with Debby Davidson and King Harris,” one night and “KEYT News with King Harris and Debby Davidson,” the next evening.
Even our advisors, Frank Magid and Associates, the top TV news-consulting firm in the world, didn’t seem to mind. But one day, they were bothered by something that came out of the blue.
Frank called me up from his Montecito home and said, “King, we at Magid just discovered something very interesting. On the set, you sit on Debby’s left, correct? We think you should switch chairs so she is on YOUR right because we have found that since the viewer’s eyes go left to right, it establishes a superior presence for the male.”
I shot back, “Frank, if you want to tell Debby Davidson that she should change anchor chairs, you go right ahead. I’m not touching that with a 10-foot pole.”
The only time I can remember Debby next to me on my right was when we were both out on the patio behind the newsrooms covering the Painted Cave Fire, which broke out not long after she got to KEYT.
She had yet to find her way around Santa Barbara but in giving out information, especially under the circumstances, one would never have known that. She was a real pro that way.
What often amused me were some of her quirks. For example, when we were sitting on the set together and every time she started furiously tapping her pencil on the desktop, I knew she was peeved about something and that I’d hear about it later.
Or watching her reaction one time to our eccentric meteorologist, Phil Mann’s, strange diatribe about his uncle being struck not once but twice by lightning, leaving him with two big holes in his stomach. It was priceless.
But Debby’s jaw dropped, her mouth opened and her eyes nearly sprang out of her head, as if she were saying, “Why is Phil telling me this?”
And Debby, being the Boston Catholic that she was, wasn’t endeared to news stories that were rather risqué; tales like those involving a husband hating, knife-wielding Lorena Bobbitt.
I can’t say as I blame her. I wasn’t comfortable reading them either.
Debby preferred local news because she cared so much about the community. She proudly served KEYT for 16 years.
I was greatly saddened to hear about her death recently after a courageous years-long battle with breast cancer. At the same time, I was grateful to have had the opportunity to work alongside her.
She raised everyone’s standards, including my own. Thank God she called.
