A Washington Post interview gone wrong with the "Car Talk" guys becomes an object lesson in how not to handle media relations
Oh, Brother: 'Car Talk' Guy Puts Mouth in Gear
Tom Magliozzi Opines and NPR Goes Into Reverse
By Mark Leibovich
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, May 4, 2005; C01
“Thou shall make the client available to the media—and then leave.”
--Ted Klein’s 3rd Commandment of Public Relations
We all love NPR, and we’re all concerned about reports of new interference from the Corporation of Public Broadcasting (CPB) into NPR and PBS operations. But this is not the way to keep the wolf from the door. (Oh right, that's the World Bank)
The guys who host "Car Talk" on National Public Radio -- brothers Tom and Ray Magliozzi -- were in Washington yesterday to visit with some of the powerful government officials whose support for public radio is so vital. They also sat for a rare interview.
"George Bush is a [unprintable vulgarity]," Tom Magliozzi says, about three minutes into the interview.
You might be thinking, well, that’s a good lede –this should be an interesting profile. I’m afraid not!
Rule Number One: When you're trying to ensure government funding, it's best not to refer to the head of said government as an unprintable vulgarity.
Now, if this were an ordinary interview and not one specially designed to implode in an embarrassing public spectacle, Click (or is he Clack?)’s comment would have been a throwaway the writer might have used at the end of the article. Too bad NPR blew it—big time.
Maybe this is why the "Car Talk" guys rarely give interviews.
"Yeah, you probably shouldn't say that," says Doug Berman, executive producer of public radio's most popular weekend show, who is sitting across the breakfast table at Cafe Luna on P Street. NPR spokeswoman Jenny Lawhorn agrees. As do Ray and Tom, aka "Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers" at least until Tom essentially repeats himself, twice.
Even here, this story could have gone on to a happier ending, if the NPR mis-spokeswoman had just left this alone after registering the obligatory disclaimer. As Zero Mostel said to Gene Wilder at their first awkward meeting in The Producers, the appropriate word is “oops.” That’s all.
This is the part of the story where NPR officials make it clear that the views of the show's personalities do not reflect those of its management.
"I'd like to point out that 'Car Talk' is editorially independent," Lawhorn says.
"Their jokes and jabs," she further states in a follow-up e-mail, "aren't in any way the official views of NPR and its member stations."
Follow-up e-mail? De trop, darling, strictly de trop. But as the poet didn’t say, “at my back I always hear CPB’s winged chariot hurrying near.” Tom’s vulgarism must have set off a 4-alarm panic at NPR. And as we all know, first reactions to panic are usually wrong.
This is an important distinction, since local public radio stations rely partly on the largess of Congress, some of whose members are Republicans. These stations, in turn, pay fees to NPR for programming. So NPR executives are understandably sensitive to what they call their "perception problem" -- that NPR is often considered a bastion of liberal sensibilities that are winning little love from Washington these days, or, for that matter, funding.
Is this what it was like in the McCarthy era? How many loyalty tests do we have to pass before we can call ourselves citizens?
But the Magliozzis are prime assets for the radio network, given that their stock in trade -- cars and humor -- is largely apolitical and is enjoyed across party lines. About 30 members of Congress of both parties attended a reception with the Magliozzis in the Rayburn Building last night.
The duo attracts 4.7 million listeners a week on nearly 600 stations. They debuted on Boston's WBUR in 1977 and took "Car Talk" into national syndication 10 years later.
We now return you to this regularly scheduled feature story, in the mostly harmless style section of the Washington Post, where the news is soft, light and fluffy. See how this story starts to move in a typical Style style as the house organ of this company town? No one reading this needs to be told what the Rayburn Building is (for those of you on the Left Coast, it’s a Congressional Office Building).
Click and Clack's radio shtick is indistinguishable from their real-life conversations, say people who know them. "People say, 'You sound just like those shmucks on the radio,' " Ray says. In other words, they sound like drunk raccoons with Boston accents who cackle perpetually and occasionally dispense car-related wisdom.
Good writing – “drunk raccoons with Boston accents” nice one! See what can happen when you let a reporter just do their job? But wait, there’s more from the Nervous Nellies at NPR.
"Eventually the conversation rolls around to car problems, no matter where we are," says Ray, 56, who still works a few days a week at the brothers' Good News Garage in their hometown of Cambridge, Mass. Tom, who is 67 and semi-retired, dabbles in building picture frames, among other pursuits.
But Tom and Ray are essentially blue-collar wiseacres, albeit with degrees from MIT (Tom graduated in 1958 and Ray in 1972). "They are equal-opportunity quipsters," Lawhorn says in her ongoing disclaimer over Tom's Bush quip. "They pick on everybody."
“Ongoing disclaimer?” Sounds like she sent more than one e-mail doesn’t it? Methinks she doth protest too much. Much too much!
Click and Clack's favorite everybodies include their callers, each other, their late mother (whom they have referred to on the air as a drunk and a criminal) and the nation's automakers. They once suggested on air that the Ford Festiva should come equipped with a funeral wreath. At breakfast yesterday, Tom Magliozzi characterized automobile executives with the epithet that he used to describe Bush.
Speaking of which, here comes another e-mail disclaimer from Lawhorn, the NPR spokeswoman: "Doug Berman says, 'We've never had a president Tommy liked.' "
OK, that makes it three, maybe four. Are the full texts on Romanesko yet?
Followed, two minutes later, by a phone call from Berman himself, emphasizing that the Magliozzis aren't really politically inclined and that it would be a shame if this story included Tom's unfortunate quote about the president. But in the event that it does, Ray wishes to distance himself from the sentiment.
A phone call? From the producer they’re always calling silly names in the credits? Oh, Berman, what did the suits make you do?
Followed, a few minutes later, by a more formal statement from Ray Magliozzi, issued through Lawhorn.
You too? Ray, Ray, Ray. These are dark days in Narnia, no question about it.
"It is my policy to vehemently disagree with Tommy, no matter what the issue," the statement says.
Now that that's cleared up, we move on to something car-related. Like, what do Click and Clack drive themselves?
"We drive ourselves crazy," Tom says. Among others.
Here we have a reporter trying desperately to get this story back on track, no matter how much the network weasels are mucking it up.
In the future, it would be much better for all concerned to let reporters interview subjects, as my wise late father would advise, with no one else in the room. Unless the subject is someone like Jack Abramoff, who needs to go everywhere with his lawyer.
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