Truth, Gossip and Sleaze

LAST YEAR POPULAR CHICAGO DISC jockey Joe (JoBo) Bohannon told his morning listeners that he had what ""could be the story of the century.'' What was of such import? He said a prominent television anchorwoman was carrying the child of a Chicago Bulls basketball player. The story rocketed around Chicago quicker than a Bulls fast break. But it was dead wrong. The anchorwoman, Joan Esposito, was pregnant by her husband, who had committed suicide shortly after conception. Contending the ""widespread repetition'' of the rumor had defamed her, she filed an $8 million suit, which is pending. Two weeks ago, JoBo and partner Ed Volkman were fired by their radio station, CBS-owned B-96. The two DJs couldn't be reached; B-96 declined comment.

Radio shock jocks have never been confused with Walter Cronkite or, for that matter, Woodward and Bernstein. Bad taste has made Howard Stern into a huge ratings hit. But this incident, and another recent one at a St. Louis radio station -- which ended in a suicide -- has only further muddied the line between news and gossip. As Esposito discovered, radio DJs aren't journalists -- and don't claim to be -- yet they have become the great conceivers and disseminators of gossip and rumors that get passed on as news. The normal journalistic standards, like getting corroboration, are nowhere near the sound booth. This is a problem not only for the targets but also for the increasing number of Americans who consider shock jocks an important source of information. ""The person talking to you in the morning or afternoon or drive time is a friend and somebody you trust, and they can say all kinds of things, and you generally feel they're telling you the truth,'' says Esther Thorson, professor of journalism at the University of Missouri.

Take the case of Bob Richards, a married weatherman for St. Louis station KSDK-TV. His alleged affair with another woman was reported in the local press after the woman sought a protective order forbidding Richards from further contact. Talk-show DJs at several radio stations promptly began to ridicule Richards. One station played sound effects of an airplane; an amateur pilot, Richards had flown over the woman's house.

But the most controversial step came at WKBQ-FM, which aired a live, impromptu interview with the woman, Donna L. Henry. Complaining that her side hadn't been presented properly, she offered to play telephone-answering-machine tapes of messages that Richards had allegedly left her. The DJs, Steve Shannon and D. C. Chymes, who had earlier lost their jobs for six months over a racial slur, aired the tapes immediately. Richards is purportedly heard pleading for Henry to see him again. That night, Richards took his plane out for a flight and nose-dived it into the ground. He died instantly.

WKBQ general manager Bill Viands strongly defends the DJs. He said they used the word ""alleged'' 15 times during the interview to protect Richards, and later asked him to come on the air but received no response. Shannon also expresses no regret about airing the tapes and disputes the notion that a radio show could cause someone to decide to commit suicide.

In the wild world of talk radio, DJs aren't the only purveyors of on-air trash. People who call in have spread rumors about everything from linking the Central Intelligence Agency to John Kennedy's assassination to Bill Clinton's sex life. As long as DJs don't encourage such gossip, they probably can't be held liable, either in the courts or by the Federal Communications Commission. In the current media environment, dirty linen -- even if it's not true -- is fair game.

Uncommon Knowledge

Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.

Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.

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