"This is the night Barbara Walters interviews Monica Lewinsky.
The station tries to air as much of my show as they can
before Monica comes on.
Suddenly my feelings about Monica Lewinsky turn competitive.
What is happening to me?"

Worry, agony, elation: a psychiatrist's first pledge tour

Hallowell pledges at New Hampshire PTV with Cynthia Fenneman, who also served as executive producer of his special.

Originally published in Current, April 19, 1999

By Edward M. Hallowell, M.D.

In March of 1999, I had the near-millennial experience of pitching for 17 public television stations in 23 days. To prepare for this, I had to go to medical school, become a psychiatrist, write seven books, but most important, lose some weight and buy a nice suit! My family braced for my departure by weighing in with their opinions, including this from Jack, my six-year-old son: "Daddy," he mused, "why would anyone want to listen to you talk?"

In search of listeners and viewers, I went to various cities around the U.S. with my show, "Worry: Controlling It and Using It Wisely," which was based on my book of the same name. What was it like for a middle-aged, New England psychiatrist to go on TV? Here are some day-to-day recollections:

Monday, March 1: I arrive at the Baltimore airport. A delightful woman named Gil meets me and escorts me to my hotel. She proves to be typical of all the public television professionals I meet on this trip: smart, friendly and full of zip. That evening I am dropped off at Maryland PTV for the first pledge broadcast of my program.

Like a kid on his first roller-coaster, I have no idea what awaits me. An experienced speaker, I am used to audiences and cameras. What I am not used to, however, is an invisible audience and instant ratings provided by ... telephones!

I watch as my show, of which I am quite proud, starts to run. Then, a third of the way into it, like my baby being brought out for review and possible purchase, it is put up for sale. I stand before the camera and urge callers to support public television and my baby, er, show. Suddenly, I have embarked on a career in sales. I find that the process is at times exhilarating, at other times agonizing. I develop a new sympathy for anyone selling anything. When the phones don't ring, my heart sinks like a rock. What do you do now? Cry? And when they ring? What do you do? Go crazy?

At the end of the first break, staff members look at each other, biting their lips. Someone sighs. The first break is always slow, I am told. We go back to the green room. We strategize. Push the book, someone suggests. Tell them what is in the book but not in the show. Soon, the second break comes. Like a boxer who's taken a few jabs getting up out of his corner, I go back to the set. This time, more people call. My baby is attracting some smiles. My heart rises a bit.

We go back to the green room. The on-air people with me are visibly more upbeat, because the pledges have picked up. I am beginning to sense what it must be like to work in public TV. I am awfully glad I have a day job.

The third break brings even more calls. I am told we made more than goal. Staff members start to relax and laugh, as bitten lips heal. I remark how difficult it must be to ride this roller-coaster every day, all year. I receive small smiles that say, "You don't know the half of it." But I am beginning to.

Tuesday, March 2: I'm in Tampa, at WEDU. The NCAA men's basketball Final Four will be here soon. Mike Seymour takes me under his wing and tells me some stories about public television before we go on. I can see he gives his heart and soul to this work. I want very badly for my show to do well, not only for me, but for Mike, and for the station. Mike tells me that mine is a good show, but you never know how a given show will do on a given night. It reminds me of what I tell my patients: all you can do is do your best. The rest is in the hands of ... whatever it's in the hands of.

Wednesday, March 3: Now I am home, due at New Hampshire PTV tonight. On the plane up from Florida a bug catches a ride in my bloodstream. By 5 p.m., I have a temperature of 103. I splash cold water on my face. My doctor tells me to go to bed. I tell him the show must go on. He prescribes something, which works by the time I get to Durham. I feel like a trooper! This is the night Barbara Walters interviews Monica Lewinsky. The station tries to air as much of my show as they can before Monica comes on. Suddenly my feelings about Monica Lewinsky turn competitive. What is happening to me?

Promoting a show about worry, I am going through what feels like Worry Boot Camp. Will people call? Will they pledge? Staff members give me verbal rubdowns. Numbers of calls are low, but the average size of the pledges is high. Bad news and good news--this is what I'll hear all month. I get so wrapped up in the whole emotional experience of the show that I drive off wearing the station's microphone, as the bugs in my blood begin to regroup. I mail the microphone back the next day, but keep the bugs.

Saturday, March 6: I appear on WMFE in Orlando in the afternoon. My illness has succumbed to hefty antibiotics. (Later in the month I will receive a letter from John Felton, program director at WMFE, thanking me for coming down and complimenting me on the high quality of the breaks. I discover that this is what distinguishes public television: in the television world of sharks, the people in public television are more like dolphins.)

Sunday, March 7: I'm in Conway, near Little Rock. Audrey, at Arkansas PTV, accompanies me on the air. She is a spunky, spicy ball of energy who has given much of her life to public television, and to improving the state of Arkansas in general. She points with pride to the computer consoles each of the volunteers has. "Not many stations have this equipment," she tells me. She begins the show by introducing me as "Bill Hallowell." I remark that the people of Arkansas must have Bill on their minds. Audrey does a great job, then after the show she takes me on a scandal tour of Little Rock, pointing out the Excelsior Hotel, the Rose Law Firm and a McDonald's that the other Bill used to jog to when he was governor. Audrey also proudly points out the Vietnam memorial she helped get built.

Monday, March 8: KERA, Dallas: Glenn Mitchell, host of a public radio show in Dallas, and Paula McClure, former host of Good Morning, Texas join me on the show. They are super. I coach myself before I go on, Tell them what is in the book but not in the tape, push the practical tips, be positive and lively, be concise, give meat. I put my heart into it, taking inspiration from how much I believe in public education. The phones ring. Paula tells me about the spa she has opened since she left commercial television. The phones pick up some more. I think about Paula's spa. I find that a relaxing thought gives me fresh energy for pitching. I tell people on the air that a spa is good for worriers.

Tuesday, March 9: Now I am in Miami. WPBT. As usual, the staff there gives it all they've got. I am becoming quite a fan of public television, especially as I get this crash course in how hard it is to do it right, night after night. I still can't figure out what makes the phones ring. I sense that one reason my show goes slower than say, Gary Null's, is that my topic, controlling worry, offers less than eternal life. I try to counter that with lots of positive, practical information. If I can just hook them with how helpful the show can be in their daily lives, they should stay tuned. This seems to work.

Friday, March 12: Detroit welcomes me. The show goes well--it's one of the best nights of the tour. We go way over goal, but I can't tell you why.

Saturday, March 13: Colchester, Vt. As much as the phones rang in Detroit, they don't ring this afternoon on Vermont PTV. The station talent is great, as usual, but we don't get the volume of calls we hope for. Is it the NCAA basketball tournament? Maybe people in Vermont don't worry?

Sunday, March 14: Snow delays me getting from Vermont to Maine Public Broadcasting. I arrive in Lewiston with only about 10 minutes to spare. Steve Faloon and Peter Clowes see to it that I get on in time. The pace picks up as compared to Vermont. But now I confront a new worry, other than making the telephones ring. A snowstorm is brewing and I am supposed to go to New York the next morning. But I put that problem out of my mind, as I reach out to the people of Maine. I follow a bit of my own advice, which is to prioritize. Right now, all that matters is the Maine audience. The snow can wait.

Monday, March 15: Snow, it says on the midnight news back in my hotel room. Following my recipe for worry control, I get the facts and make a plan. I take the train. I arrive at WNET with plenty of time to spare. Friends in New York call me after the show to tell me how good it was. I hear from the station that it made $920 per minute. Still, we had hoped for a higher total. I am beginning to feel the competing pressures of quality versus ratings. I know my show is quality. But how can I boost ratings?

Wednesday, March 16: KCTS in Seattle. Nicole Metcalf and Paula Nemzek. Good people. This is one of the constants of the trip. Someone calls in and wants to speak to me off the air. It is a woman who is worried about her grown-up son. We talk a while. I get a sense of who is on the other side of the camera. After a break, one of the volunteers hands me a note that reads, "A renewal subscriber wants you to know that the program is 'awesome.' She's watching it for the second time and is taking lots of notes to share with others." That gives me an idea. I start to suggest people pledge and get the book or the tape to share with others who worry, and that they take notes to share with worriers who might feel too worried to watch!

Thursday, March 18: Portland, Ore. First break is slow. Second is better. Third is best. This is a pattern that holds everywhere. I actually watch my show after the first break. I haven't seen it in a while, and I realize that I feel glad to be getting this information out to the public. Comments from staff and talent make me feel proud.

I start looking forward to my next show, due out in August along with my book, on connectedness. The show is called, "Connect: The Power of Human Relationships." The staff gets excited as I tell them about it. Becky, one of the program directors, leaves me a bag with Beanie Babies in it to take home to my kids. An amazingly thoughtful gesture.

Saturday, March 20: WNIN in Evansville, Ind. The staff is worried that I will think the station is too small for me to bother with. I am worried that they'll think I am not a big enough name for them to bother with. We both find out how groundless our worries are, as we have a great time together! This proves one of my rules of worry control: if you get the facts, worry often subsides.

Sunday, March 21: I arrive in Atlanta on the day of the Academy Awards. Fortunately, my show is scheduled for late afternoon, before Hollywood starts up. In trying to think of ways to make the telephones ring, I offer my own personal e-mail address to anyone who pledges $200 or more. This seems to appeal. I have wonderful conversations with the talent between breaks. I wish I could stay longer.

Wednesday, March 24: I am home. I am excited to go on Channel 2. My kids watch WGBH in Boston every day. My son tells me to wear a green tie he has picked out, instead of my usual red one. I say ok. I feel a rush of excitement. The show goes well, making 20 percent more than the goal the station had set. Maybe it was the green tie.

Thursday, March 25: Last stop. Baton Rouge and Louisiana PTV. Most calls come toward the end, as usual. After the show there is still a woman on the phone. She wants to speak to me. I say sure. She just wants to tell me what a help I have been to her. I thank her and wish her well. A fitting way to end the trip. I enjoy a cup of coffee with chicory, and say good night.

The Days Since Then: As a psychiatrist, I would have to say you've got to be crazy to do this. The pressure, the risk of rejection, and the travel all make it onerous. But, on the other hand, I loved it! Why? I guess because I believe in the cause, but also because the people were so great, and there was excitement in the uncertainty of it all.

I think back on what went right, and what went wrong. What went wrong is I wish more phones rang in some cities. What went right is that the phones rang in other cities, but most important, the show gave all the people who watched it solid information that will improve their lives.

In these three weeks, I learned that the pressure of pledge shows is tremendous. Each time you go on, you go on trial. If you are Suze Orman or Gary Null, you pretty much know the verdict in advance, but if you are someone like me, you don't.

You live for the good times, but you know it is worth it, no matter what. You hear from people you have reached. No matter what the numbers were, my deepest satisfaction was in connecting with the people, both the viewers and the diverse crews at all the stations.

An image comes to mind when I think back on my trip. At WNIN in Evansville there is an upright piano in the main hallway of the station. A converted old mansion, WNIN feels more like someone's home than a TV station. When I saw the piano, I asked if anyone ever played it. "It's there for whoever wants it," someone replied. "I know Randall, the custodian, plays it. Others must, too, because I hear it all the time."

That piano is public television. It's there for whoever wants it. Nobody takes or gets much credit for playing it, but people hear it all the time.

I want to say to public TV, thanks for letting me play your piano. Thanks to all of you who put the piano in our lives in the first place, thanks for keeping it in such good shape, and thanks for continuing to bang out such great tunes!

Edward ("Ned") Hallowell, M.D., is an author, lecturer and board-certified psychiatrist with a private practice in Cambridge, Mass. In addition to the recent book, Worry: Controlling It and Using It Wisely, he has written two books on Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and a comprehensive book on emotional and learning problem sin children, When You Worry About the Child You Love.

 

To Current's home page

Earlier news: Nutrition author Gary Null, mentioned by Hallowell, suggests that viewers who take care of themselves could live 140 years.

Outside link: Web site of Edward Hallowell's Hallowell Center in Concord, Mass.

 

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