Alex Linder
May 24th, 2005, 08:36 AM
Funny story...
http://www.freep.com/news/locway/wilson20e_20050520.htm
PART ONE: Newsman Steve Wilson: Bulldog or bulldozer?
TV muckraker is loathed by some, but has won fans with fearlessness
May 20, 2005
BY SHAWN WINDSOR
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER
The most combative journalist in Detroit walked away from his latest confrontation with the mayor Tuesday disheveled and seething. He'd just been cursed, shoved, grabbed, kicked and punched. His dress shirt was untucked, his hair was a mess. Sweat dripped down his forehead.
It was inevitable, really, that the melee would break out -- the only question was when and how forcefully the whole thing would explode.
TV investigative reporter Steve Wilson and Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick had had other dustups -- most notably an incident in Washington, D.C., when Wilson flew there to catch the mayor with a microphone, a camera and an attitude he knew would make compelling, and, some say, revulsive television.
The money shot featured one of the mayor's bodyguards shoving him into a wall after Wilson had badgered Kilpatrick for an answer about the city's lease of a red Lincoln Navigator for his wife, Carlita. It was the kind of jaw-dropping footage that has helped make Wilson a ratings star in Detroit's competitive TV news market. And has given ammunition to his critics.
He arrived at WXYZ-TV (Channel 7) late in the summer of 2001 after a nearly four-year absence from TV news. He'd been fired at his previous gig in Tampa over disagreements with station management about a public health story. He sued the station, and the case dragged on for years. The spectacle turned Wilson into a hero to several left-leaning groups around the country but also branded him a malcontent in the mainstream TV news business.
Or so he thought.
Since the ABC affiliate in Detroit took a chance on him, Wilson has become must-see television for WXYZ's viewers. They've watched the reporter -- not your typical TV pretty boy -- secretly follow Macomb County officials and businessmen to Costa Rica and insinuate that they were hiring prostitutes, and barge into the home of the Eastern Michigan University president and open expensive cabinet doors and demand answers about why millions of dollars had been spent on the home.
Local viewers know Wilson best, though, for his reports last winter about the infamous Navigator.
So when Wilson showed up at Kilpatrick's re-election campaign kickoff Tuesday afternoon in front of newly built homes and hundreds of mayoral supporters on Detroit's west side, it was foreboding.
The beaten path
As soon as the mayor unfurled himself from his black Escalade and began shaking hands on his way to the campaign stage, Wilson, followed by his cameraman, Ramon Rosario, approached to ask questions.
"We'll do it later with everybody else," Kilpatrick told him. "You're not special."
For the next hour or so, as the mayor and his family and allies spoke from the stage, Wilson paced about, convinced the mayor was blowing him off.
When the speeches ended, the mayor's spokesman, Howard Hughey, announced to the swarm of reporters that Kilpatrick wasn't taking questions. As he stepped down into the crowd, a few reporters asked anyway.
Wilson scurried around to the front of the moving pack, as a half-dozen security and staff members encircled the mayor, trying to cut a path back to the Escalade. The bodyguards began pushing Wilson. Kilpatrick's personal assistant DeDan Milton grabbed Wilson. Someone kicked him in the shin. Wilson turned and kicked back. Seconds later, someone punched Wilson in the gut.
Kilpatrick supporters began shouting for Wilson to back off, to quit harassing the mayor. But the pushing and shoving continued. A child was knocked down in the scrum.
Undeterred, Wilson kept lobbing questions.
"No answers today, Mr. Mayor?"
Finally, the mayor reached his SUV. As he climbed in, he turned to Wilson:
"Quit buying prostitutes. You quit buying prostitutes."
He was referring to an allegation by Warren city officials last year that Wilson had paid for prostitutes in Costa Rica to set up a group of public officials and businessmen there on a fishing trip. The charges have never been proved, but the rumors persist.
The mayor said it again.
"Quit buying prostitutes. Fat ass."
He closed the door and the motorcade, at least five cars strong, sped off.
Dozens of supporters, reporters and a few bodyguards milled around the scene, amazed by what they'd seen. Wilson wasn't finished. He spotted Kilpatrick's sister, Ayanna Kilpatrick, and walked toward her, only to be rebuffed by security. A few minutes later, he noticed the mayor's chief of staff, Christine Beatty, and cozied up.
She turned away.
Two bodyguards rushed over and forearmed him back.
"This is a public street," Wilson shouted.
It was all caught on tape.
Hughey, standing nearby, said Wilson doesn't play by the rules.
"In my dealings, I've never met any reporter who goes to such lengths to create a theatric situation," he said, shaking his head.
Wilson finally walked away and got into his Ford Escape. Inside, still sweating, he vented.
"I'm the guy out in front who won't stop," he began. "Did you see that weenie from Channel 4? He asked one question and stopped."
He grew louder.
"There's nothing that will be more effective than showing that mob scene on television with those thugs," he said. "They kick you when they can. They sucker punch you when they can. Do I do all that for great film? No! I think people deserve answers and I think we ought to demand them."
There it was, Wilson's journalistic philosophy distilled into raw, unedited sound bites. Had he gone too far? He would ponder that question later.
For at that moment, he had tape of a scene that captured nearly everything about his career: the unrelenting doggedness, the willingness to embarrass himself, the insertion of himself in his stories, and the line between journalism and entertainment that he pushes every time he picks up a microphone.
Many think Wilson is the embodiment of the ambush interviewer, sneaking up on his targets where they don't expect him. Wilson prefers to call them "unscheduled accountability sessions."
[part 2 & 3 through link]
http://www.freep.com/news/locway/wilson20e_20050520.htm
PART ONE: Newsman Steve Wilson: Bulldog or bulldozer?
TV muckraker is loathed by some, but has won fans with fearlessness
May 20, 2005
BY SHAWN WINDSOR
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER
The most combative journalist in Detroit walked away from his latest confrontation with the mayor Tuesday disheveled and seething. He'd just been cursed, shoved, grabbed, kicked and punched. His dress shirt was untucked, his hair was a mess. Sweat dripped down his forehead.
It was inevitable, really, that the melee would break out -- the only question was when and how forcefully the whole thing would explode.
TV investigative reporter Steve Wilson and Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick had had other dustups -- most notably an incident in Washington, D.C., when Wilson flew there to catch the mayor with a microphone, a camera and an attitude he knew would make compelling, and, some say, revulsive television.
The money shot featured one of the mayor's bodyguards shoving him into a wall after Wilson had badgered Kilpatrick for an answer about the city's lease of a red Lincoln Navigator for his wife, Carlita. It was the kind of jaw-dropping footage that has helped make Wilson a ratings star in Detroit's competitive TV news market. And has given ammunition to his critics.
He arrived at WXYZ-TV (Channel 7) late in the summer of 2001 after a nearly four-year absence from TV news. He'd been fired at his previous gig in Tampa over disagreements with station management about a public health story. He sued the station, and the case dragged on for years. The spectacle turned Wilson into a hero to several left-leaning groups around the country but also branded him a malcontent in the mainstream TV news business.
Or so he thought.
Since the ABC affiliate in Detroit took a chance on him, Wilson has become must-see television for WXYZ's viewers. They've watched the reporter -- not your typical TV pretty boy -- secretly follow Macomb County officials and businessmen to Costa Rica and insinuate that they were hiring prostitutes, and barge into the home of the Eastern Michigan University president and open expensive cabinet doors and demand answers about why millions of dollars had been spent on the home.
Local viewers know Wilson best, though, for his reports last winter about the infamous Navigator.
So when Wilson showed up at Kilpatrick's re-election campaign kickoff Tuesday afternoon in front of newly built homes and hundreds of mayoral supporters on Detroit's west side, it was foreboding.
The beaten path
As soon as the mayor unfurled himself from his black Escalade and began shaking hands on his way to the campaign stage, Wilson, followed by his cameraman, Ramon Rosario, approached to ask questions.
"We'll do it later with everybody else," Kilpatrick told him. "You're not special."
For the next hour or so, as the mayor and his family and allies spoke from the stage, Wilson paced about, convinced the mayor was blowing him off.
When the speeches ended, the mayor's spokesman, Howard Hughey, announced to the swarm of reporters that Kilpatrick wasn't taking questions. As he stepped down into the crowd, a few reporters asked anyway.
Wilson scurried around to the front of the moving pack, as a half-dozen security and staff members encircled the mayor, trying to cut a path back to the Escalade. The bodyguards began pushing Wilson. Kilpatrick's personal assistant DeDan Milton grabbed Wilson. Someone kicked him in the shin. Wilson turned and kicked back. Seconds later, someone punched Wilson in the gut.
Kilpatrick supporters began shouting for Wilson to back off, to quit harassing the mayor. But the pushing and shoving continued. A child was knocked down in the scrum.
Undeterred, Wilson kept lobbing questions.
"No answers today, Mr. Mayor?"
Finally, the mayor reached his SUV. As he climbed in, he turned to Wilson:
"Quit buying prostitutes. You quit buying prostitutes."
He was referring to an allegation by Warren city officials last year that Wilson had paid for prostitutes in Costa Rica to set up a group of public officials and businessmen there on a fishing trip. The charges have never been proved, but the rumors persist.
The mayor said it again.
"Quit buying prostitutes. Fat ass."
He closed the door and the motorcade, at least five cars strong, sped off.
Dozens of supporters, reporters and a few bodyguards milled around the scene, amazed by what they'd seen. Wilson wasn't finished. He spotted Kilpatrick's sister, Ayanna Kilpatrick, and walked toward her, only to be rebuffed by security. A few minutes later, he noticed the mayor's chief of staff, Christine Beatty, and cozied up.
She turned away.
Two bodyguards rushed over and forearmed him back.
"This is a public street," Wilson shouted.
It was all caught on tape.
Hughey, standing nearby, said Wilson doesn't play by the rules.
"In my dealings, I've never met any reporter who goes to such lengths to create a theatric situation," he said, shaking his head.
Wilson finally walked away and got into his Ford Escape. Inside, still sweating, he vented.
"I'm the guy out in front who won't stop," he began. "Did you see that weenie from Channel 4? He asked one question and stopped."
He grew louder.
"There's nothing that will be more effective than showing that mob scene on television with those thugs," he said. "They kick you when they can. They sucker punch you when they can. Do I do all that for great film? No! I think people deserve answers and I think we ought to demand them."
There it was, Wilson's journalistic philosophy distilled into raw, unedited sound bites. Had he gone too far? He would ponder that question later.
For at that moment, he had tape of a scene that captured nearly everything about his career: the unrelenting doggedness, the willingness to embarrass himself, the insertion of himself in his stories, and the line between journalism and entertainment that he pushes every time he picks up a microphone.
Many think Wilson is the embodiment of the ambush interviewer, sneaking up on his targets where they don't expect him. Wilson prefers to call them "unscheduled accountability sessions."
[part 2 & 3 through link]