Friday, September 22, 2006

Oriana Fallaci: Hemingway in a Tight Black Sweater, or Hell on High Heels !!!!!

The ANNOTICO Report

James Brady was the former publisher of Women's Wear Daily,  and editorial director of Fairchild Publications, a subsidiary of  Capital Cities Broadcasting.

Brady discusses his first time becoming acquainted with Oriana Fallaci, in the press grandstands at Cape Kennedy the July morning of 1969 when Armstrong's Apollo 11 lifted off to the moon.

While all others were print media, Fallaci was attempting to do a direct live radio broadcast to Rome, which others found distracting and irritating, on top of  the anxiety, excitement, and nervousness of the moment, but NONE dared express their displeasure.

Brady was candid about his being intimidated by Fallaci, suspecting she would have eaten him for breakfast..

Brady also openly admired Fallaci, who said that if a journalist job is to "print the news and raise hell", then Oriana Fallaci was in the right business. Even though she was twice shot doing it.

ALTO ROMA

Forbes

James Brady
September.21.06,

The first time I saw her in action, in the press grandstands at Cape Kennedy the July morning of 1969 when Armstrong's Apollo 11 lifted off to the moon, Oriana Fallaci and I nearly came to blows.

She was a working reporter, the real thing, fierce and intense, Hemingway in a tight black sweater. I suspect she would have eaten me for breakfast.

Oriana died earlier this month, of breast cancer at age 77 in a Florentine hospital. She lived mostly on the upper east side of Manhattan but always kept a place in Florence, where she went home to die. And at an age when most collapse into a life of ease, she was still reporting and making news, arguing with authority, fending off lawsuits, feuding with Islam, with Kissinger, with the Ayatollah, an atheist calling on the Pope, irritating some and enraging others.

If Roy Howard was right and our job is to "print the news and raise hell", then Oriana Fallaci was in the right business. Even though she was twice shot doing it.

If you were there at the Cape, I was then the publisher of Women?s Wear Daily, editorial director of Fairchild Publications, and gave myself the good assignments. I justified this obvious favoritism by rationalizing that I was a reporter with 15 years experience in the U.S. and abroad. Since Capital Cities Broadcasting had recently bought up Fairchild, I was not only writing but also providing a live audio feed to Cap Cities' radio stations. And doing it for nothing; Cap Cities chief executive Tom Murphy, my new boss, appreciated small economies.

That broadcasting gig was where Oriana entered the picture.

The sun was well up as, in the bleachers, we all waited, anxious, excited, nervous. This was a big story, maybe as big as any of us had ever covered. I greeted pals from D.C., exchanged gossip, took notes, called New York to be sure the line was working and tried to settle down waiting for lift off. If it was like this for us, what must those tense final minutes have been like for the astronauts, the NASA people, the families?

One row back and directly behind me, someone else was also testing a phone link to what was apparently an Italian radio station. "Allo Roma, allo Roma, allo Roma."

I couldn't hear myself think, but "Roma" didn't seem to be listening. "Allo Roma, allo Roma, allo Roma." It was, of course Fallaci, all cheekbones and lighted cigarettes, though I didn't yet know it, and was instead reviewing my Italian vocabulary ("che bella ragazza!" being about the extent of it) and settling on "basta!" for "enough already!" Would the damned woman never shut up?

"Allo Roma." A pal nodded knowingly at my irritation. "Yeah," he cautioned, "but cool it. It's Fallaci."

The ground shook, and the bird went up right after that, brave and alone, mounting into a blue Florida sky, arching out over the Atlantic, young Americans off to somewhere no man had ever been, and I forgot all about "Allo Roma" and everything else, talking into an open phone and scribbling madly. Behind me I'm sure Oriana was still shouting in Italian, telling "Roma" what had just happened, telling Italians about the moon, but I simply wasn?t hearing her anymore.

Never will hear her again. "Arriverderci Roma."

http://www.forbes.com/columnists/2006/09/20/

james-brady-on-media-oped-cx_jb_0921fallaci.html

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