By Amy Silverman
By Olivia LaVecchia
By Monica Alonzo and Stephen Lemons
By Chris Parker
By Michael Lacey
By Weston Phippen
Channel 10 news anchor June Thomson is a Bill Close Award winner. Named after the former Channel 10 museum piece, the award is periodically bestowed by New Times on local newscasters who go below and beside the call of duty.
Thomson claims the trophy for the keen insight she exhibited during a March 14 feature about Poz, a new AIDS-themed magazine aimed at the estimated 1.25 million Americans who have been diagnosed as HIV-positive.
The thought-provoking segment raised many questions--most of them unanswered. At the conclusion of the three-minute piece, f'rinstance, viewers were still left wondering why the publishers of a magazine devoted to one of the most devastating health crises of modern times chose to run nude photos of Barry Goldwater's HIV-positive grandson in its debut issue. But why quibble about stuff like that when you have someone like Thomson to put everything into perspective? After dubbing the magazine "a wonderful resource," the frosty blonde issued the chilling caveat, "It'll go out of publication, though, if they find a cure for AIDS."
To your health, June!
@body:But wait--there's more to get off our chest.
Another Close award cup goes to reporter Liv Davalos and the boobs at Channel 3, for devoting several minutes in the middle of the 10 p.m. newscast on March 15 to a story on the revolutionary "Super Bra." The push-up bra, designed to promote killer cleavage, is being sold by Saks Fifth Avenue stores.
Channel 3 aired stock fashion video of the bra in action on out-of-state breasts. That gripping footage was supplemented by a Davalos interview with a saleswoman for the Valley Saks outlet, who displayed bras similar to the revolutionary Super Bra because the local Saks store will not have the revolutionary Super Bra on its racks.
Journalism or bust!
@body:Finally, a third Close statue goes to Channel 10 anchorboy Bob Bruce, for opening the 10 p.m. newscast during the Major League Baseball owners meetings with the breathless declaration: "Baseball by 1997--that's what everyone in the Valley is hoping for. . . ."
Bruce's definition of "everyone" apparently means 40 percent. More than one poll has shown that Valley residents are about 60-40 against a plan to raise the sales tax to build a baseball stadium.
But there was no mention of those nettlesome facts. It just wouldn't sound right to open the cast with: "Baseball by 1997--that's what fewer than half of Valley residents are hoping for. . . ."
We shouldn't have been surprised. It was Bruce, after all, who appeared in a promotional ad with his horse, and suggested that the bond that develops between steed and rider is akin to the trust between anchor and viewer.
At the risk of sounding like neigh-sayers, we wonder what the horse thinks.