Content Warning: This article mentions themes of racism, drug use, war and slavery.

Bruce Johnson was an American ex-anchorman and broadcast journalist, and over his 50 years of working in media he gathered a wealth of interesting stories. His new autobiography, Surviving Deep Waters, collates all his life experiences into the book he needed when he was starting out in journalism.

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Can I start by saying I loved your book. It was so open and honest, and that is what people want from an autobiography. So, what is it that made you want to put your life into words for others to read?

I decided a long time ago to write a book, I just had no idea the form this would take. I tell stories for television, so I have this permanent memory bank to fall back on. Many of these chapters were started years ago. You see, you write in layers when you write books and long magazine articles. So, this book is a result of many years and layers of things that happened to me, for the most part beginning when I was very young.  Then it finds the detail, I never would be able to recall all of this from memory if I hadn’t started writing a long time ago. I write stories. I tell stories. I don’t care how complex the issue is, if I can’t break down a story and explain how it affects real people then I haven’t done my job. That’s how people relate better to complex issues. The date and all that other stuff anybody can add but getting up close to somebody affected by events, that’s the challenge, that’s what a journalist does.

You look back on your life and realise you have quite a few stories of your own

You look back on your life and realise you have quite a few stories of your own. It’s difficult for reporters to reflect on their thoughts and feelings. That’s why you have editors and others outside of you to pull that out because it goes against our DNA. I know I had stories because I’ve covered stories about people like me. People who started out poor, no natural father, a lot of crime in the neighbourhood, single hard-working mother determined to keep her family together. Her grandmother was the daughter of former slaves raising her because her mother was nowhere to be found. These two strong African American women. When they realised their opportunities have been capped, they turn and look to the children. The battalion is now yours. Sometimes we grab onto it, sometimes we don’t, in my case I grabbed onto it. My mom early on let me see another world I’d never seen before. The world of well to do white people who lived in Louisville Kentucky. I didn’t know those opportunities could ever be mine, but the seed was planted. Go out there and see what happens. If you can do some things others are watching and perhaps, they can do it too.

You speak about writing this book in layers and the years it took to develop. How was that process of writing something so personal like Surviving Deep Waters?

Like any journey, you put one foot in front of the other and you start. I’m a writer, I taught myself to be a writer. You’ve read the book regarding the situation where I was the only black kid, and the white senior accomplished writer tells me I don’t think you’ll ever be a good writer. That was a big moment for me. I could have gotten angry and told him to f*** himself, which no doubt would have gotten me fired. Then I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you across the pond.

The more you write, the more you read, the better writer you become

One of the reasons I didn’t walk out was that I didn’t have a backup plan. Where was I going to go, what was I going to do? I had to take it and I bought myself some time. As I write in the book, I started going through trash cans, looking at what other people had written. I got myself a dictionary, a thesaurus, anything else I could use to study. Then I became an OK writer and built on that. The more you write, the more you read, the better writer you become. That’s how the writing thing started. 

How long roughly do you think it took you to write this book?

The honest answer is it took years to write this book because it took years to live. Then some years to understand what I would eventually write. It’s a different kind of story if you’re writing in the middle of the storm. When you hit some calm waters, you can reflect on what happened. What was I thinking, what were my thoughts from those things that happened? That’s how a book is born, how your thoughts on paper become something you think somebody might want to read. I wrote this book because when I came into the business almost 50 years ago, there weren’t a lot of people that looked like me. And there certainly weren’t a lot of people who were writing the kind of book I needed at that time. Is this happening to me because I’m black, or because I’m from a poor background, because I’m an entry-level employee? After I retired just over a year ago, I thought okay let’s get this done. Leave the kind of book that wasn’t there when you came into the business.

I wrote this book because when I came into the business almost 50 years ago, there weren’t a lot of people that looked like me

Would you say writing this book was a bit of legacy building? I mean you have this well-established career and now this is what you’re going to leave behind.

You’re absolutely right. I was thinking about this journalist legacy but also my mother’s and my great-grandmother’s legacy. It’s a legacy that for us started in slavery. To show others that this is who we are, this is where we come from. We may have started way in the back but if given the same opportunities that others take for granted, we can catch up. In a lot of instances, we can surpass the expectations. The expectations for somebody like me weren’t that high. Most of the people who come from the projects end up in prison or a low-level job, they don’t end up here. Truth of the matter is they do if given the chance. We make for better competition because we will work harder, longer and put in whatever it takes to succeed. We have to persevere and remember whose shoulders we stand on. My mother, my great grandmother, and ancestors that I never even knew. 

Speaking of family, you talk about your mother, your siblings, and those siblings you came to know in your later life. Is there anything that you were ever hesitant about sharing?

There was nothing difficult because I’ve lived it all. A lot of my life is already out there. Sneaking out of work to attend an outpatient alcohol rehab programme; I didn’t have to put that in the book. I could have everybody thinking I persevered, did it all on my own but that’s not who I am. When I had a heart attack, I shared it on television. Granted you’re going to get a lot of sympathy but then I came back, changed my lifestyle. Ran a Marine Corps Marathon of 26.2 miles. It was the same when I had cancer. I shared that because I wanted to be an example. Also, I realised that it’s easier if you don’t have to do it by yourself, if you can bring your community, the people you know and trust along. There are communities for cancer survivors, heart attack survivors, incredible communities out there for people in recovery from narcotics and alcohol.

That’s not something to be ashamed of, to go get help. The thing we should be concerned about is the people who need help and don’t go get it

That’s not something to be ashamed of, to go get help. The thing we should be concerned about is the people who need help and don’t go get it. That’s one of the things I wanted to do in talking about sneaking out at work, hoping no one recognises me. Eventually, you realise that’s kind of silly. Whether they know you or not, you’re here because you need to be. I strongly recommend anybody who needs help in order to exist with all these stresses to get it. You don’t have to suffer regardless of what it is you’re dealing with. 

So, you begin with this section called ‘The News’. What was it about that encounter with the FBI which made it the first thing you wanted to present to your reader?

Part of that was because I’m in broadcasting. Visuals are important to me, and this book reads like a television series or a movie. To start with this black reporter taking on the FBI in the motel parking lot. I’m thinking in terms of how that movie, that TV series would start and that was a great way of starting it. It was also how I approach my business and that is broadcast journalism. My job is not to waste the viewer’s time. I tell young journalists all the time: if you can’t tell me something I can’t find on my cell phone, you’re wasting my time. I tune in to you, read what you write because I trust you have done the work, you’ve gotten the information that is not available to me. Inform me, educate me, entertain me, tap my curiosity. You can even scare me a little, just don’t waste my time. This is one of the reasons why fewer people tune in to television, fewer people are wasting their time. We’ve got far more news programmes but we’re telling people a lot less of what’s going on out there. 

That point you made about wanting the book to read like a television series is quite interesting. When I was reading it, I felt that it restricted a conventional chronological order, you would switch from one memory to another. Was that something you had to consciously keep in mind that you wanted it to run like television episodes and to keep your readers engaged?

In every chapter I wanted to tell my viewers, my readers something that they didn’t know. Either about me, what goes on in the Newsroom or what it’s like growing up poor. I didn’t want to regurgitate the stuff about the mayor who was arrested for smoking crack. Everybody knows Marion Barry. Tell the reader something about Marion Barry they don’t know, and I tried to give a balanced picture. This man was incredibly smart. He had a great personality, you wanted to get to know him, but I also had to hold him accountable. When he was partying, smoking crack, driven by a government car paid for by taxpayers… It was the public’s business, so I had to hold him accountable. I understood some of the hardships that go with being a high profile, black, elected official. Some [were] not all that different from the position I was in. So, sometimes I cut him some slack. In the end, we ended up being friends. I was the only journalist he allowed to speak at his funeral. He planned his own funeral so that shows how much he respected me and that means a lot.  

Touching on Marion Barry. You took down this high profile, black respected official. As the only black person in the newsroom, how did that feel, was that awkward at times? 

Yes, absolutely. Another area where it was tough was the crack epidemic in Washington. I was a point person covering most of our crack stories, which meant the body bags and the black youth that was getting killed. They look like me, my children, my siblings. So, it was personal, it was emotional, it was stressful. It had an impact on not just me but our photographers. We covered hundreds of murders which meant I had to go to the mother of the dead person and ask for a picture to use on television. Then I had to ask them to tell me something about their child that was not in the police report.

I had to go to the mother of the dead person and ask for a picture to use on television […] I had to ask them to tell me something about their child that was not in the police report

I don’t want the police to tell this story, I want you to help me tell this story. Not one mother ever turned me down because they all wanted to share something. Sometimes what they were saying about their child didn’t correlate with what was going on in the streets and the reputation they had. But it was her story, her side, she was entitled to tell it. So, I put all that together and people realised that I was trying to be objective and tell all sides of the story. 

But at the same time, we were covering most of the poor black communities. I would say in our editorial meetings: ‘when are we going to cover the white communities or the upscale black communities where people are using crack recreationally?’. As I point out in the book, there were people in our newsroom, black and white, that were using crack. That’s the hypocrisy of the whole thing. We didn’t cover crack use out there because police weren’t out there. Cracking down on them and conducting raids. As the former police chief told me there would have been hell to pay if we went to those communities and conducted the drug raids we were doing in the poor communities. Of course, there wasn’t the same violence in those communities either. 

I can imagine that being quite hard and as you said stressful. Moving to a more positive side, what would you say was the most rewarding aspect of your career?

Collectively, the most rewarding thing was that a lot of people have said job well done. Not a perfect job, didn’t get every big story, made some mistakes along the way but people say job well done and to last this long. 50 years as a broadcast journalist that’s kind of impressive. It’s even hard to say and get used to. They put my face up on the wall in Ben’s Chilli Bowl, this iconic restaurant in Washington. Most of the people on that wall: Oprah Winfrey, Barack and Michelle Obama, Dave Chappelle, Jessie Jackson. Then there’s my little old picture. I had some impact and probably the most important thing is that I gained some parents. Especially parents who looked like me, black parents. Something they can say to their children, if he can do that you can too. To tell them the things that maybe some other people won’t. The parents couldn’t tell them because they haven’t been here. That’s very gratifying. I feel as though I’m training soldiers out there.

I had some impact and… [black parents] can say to their children, if he can do that you can too

I feel for the young journalist today because they don’t get the time, they don’t make the money. They paid us a lot of money because we made them a lot of money. But these corporations brought newspapers, television stations and they stripped them. Took all the money and reduced the staff, paid people little and gave them more to do. When I went out on a story I would have a photographer, a light person, occasionally a sound person. Now reporters go out and it’s just them.  I’m convinced young journalists will figure it out and that’s the thing that keeps pulling me back into journalism. I didn’t think that I would come back and work with young journalists and corporations. The corporations want to know how they keep making money, how do we keep viewers engaged. Young journalists want to know how we get to where you are. Journalism on many fronts is in trouble. People don’t trust journalists. They don’t have time to do that kind of stuff that I’ve been talking about. They don’t have the time not to waste people’s time. We have to get that back or we won’t be having a conversation like this in another five years. 

You kind of touched upon it briefly but to ask more directly. You speak about the young journalists and the parents, ‘if he can do it so can you’. What piece of advice would you give to your readers, viewers or those who look up to you more generally?

Your readers and your viewers have the same responsibility they’ve always had. If you see something, the war on Ukraine for example, and you want to know more – go find it. Most of it is right there on your cell phone. You can get the history of Ukraine, the history of Russia. Why is Putin interested in Ukraine? Why is he trying to rebuild the Soviet Union? What is the Soviet Union? People keep referring back to World War Two. What was that all about? Young people today don’t have a basis. How do you report on it if you don’t know? Most Americans cannot point out Ukraine on a map. They don’t know what countries makeup Western Europe or Eastern Europe. I’m not mocking them. I understand, we got our issues and stresses, we’re all coming out of the pandemic. But you owe it to yourself. How do you make an informative decision if you don’t know some of these things? How does this happen? How did slavery happen? How did the holocaust happen? Why is it man does these things to man? That is the ultimate question we ought to be asking. To ask those questions you’ve got to be there. I mean kudos to the journalists covering this war, they’re the ones doing us proud. We’ve already lost journalists in this war. That’s what we do, that’s what we signed up for. It’s a public service and those are the ones we should put up on the pedestals. Not the ones sitting on the anchor desk where it is safe and sound. The ones out there in the field whether it be during the crack wars, poverty, snowstorms, the war. Those are the ones that are doing us proud, and these corporations need to support them. Not just now while we’re at war and everyone tuned in like during the pandemic but afterwards. There are still stories out there, people still need this information, they still need journalism. 

To conclude, in your book you speak very openly about the mentors you had throughout your career and the impact they had on you. What would you say to people about the importance of getting a mentor?

So, you have to define mentor. A lot of young people think a mentor is that person who will raise you to the next level, be there for you, a phone call away. That’s a sponsor, not a mentor. My biggest mentors didn’t have a formal agreement or even an informal agreement. I had two incredible bosses. The first was the news director at the first station I worked at in Cincinnati, where I was the only black person hired. His name was Al Schottelkotte. German American guy, conservative Catholic. We had nothing in common and I don’t know what his motive was for hiring me. Whatever the reason I watched him be the best reporter I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s the one that convinced me I can do this. They’re going to pay me to get into people’s business. Tell people stuff politicians and others don’t want them to know. I had to learn every day, I had to be smart, I couldn’t sit still. And every day was a different day. The business found me and I’m so glad it did. 

My second big mentor was the news director I had when I came to Washington DC. A tough guy. Both of these guys were white, but he was on me every day making me better. He knew my stories better than I did. He knew the black leadership in the city better than I did and he watched me grow. The more I grew the more water he would sprinkle on me, the more challenges he would give me. The ultimate compliment from this guy was after they sold the station. He asked me if I wanted to go with him to Detroit. I realised I’m good, I can do this. So those were my mentors. Guys that are in the newsroom with me and I’m just watching. Any questions I could certainly go to them, but they weren’t my sponsors, my benefactors. They all got me on the cheap, they never pay you what you are worth. It wasn’t until the other news directors came in and you got offers elsewhere that they started paying up the big money.

I’m telling you while you’re sleeping late and partying somebody else is running off with the job you want

Along with mentors, internships are important. Over this side of the pond, they don’t stress internships until the latter part of a four-year undergrad. Get an internship immediately. There are plenty of positions in news operations whether it be print or broadcast that you can take. They have night shifts, weekend shifts, early morning shifts. A lot of young people don’t want to work these hours. They want to sleep late, party all weekend. I’m telling you while you’re sleeping late and partying somebody else is running off with the job you want. Stack those internships up. By the time you graduate they already know you, so your resume goes to the top of the stack. They know your work ethic; they know you bring value to the job. Get out there and impress somebody because that’s your ultimate responsibility when you start your first job. Impress somebody, make them want you to be a part of the team because you bring value.

 

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