What I Learned When I Almost Died - Chris Licht [24]
He leaned close and kissed me.
chapter eleven
The Caller
Though I long ago gave up, quite willingly, the ambition of being an anchor or reporter, I was often on the air during a typical MJ. In Control Room 3A at 30 Rock, there’s always a small camera focused on my chair in the front row because I sometimes banter with Joe and Mika during a show, usually about e-mails viewers have sent while we’re live. They have become used to seeing the young executive producer in his dress shirt with no tie, sleeves rolled up, headset clamped over short, wavy hair.
My absence would be noticeable as time rolled on. And on the first day after my event, it would be really noticeable that Mika and Joe weren’t there. So from NBC’s famed Washington bureau, Willie Geist explained to those at home what was going on.
“Our friend Chris Licht was admitted to a Washington hospital yesterday after experiencing extreme head pain,” Willie said. “A subsequent CAT scan led doctors to believe Chris had suffered an aneurysm.”
Since childhood, I have enjoyed the thrill and excitement of covering news, but never had I been the news being covered. My brain bleed was inverting the natural order.
“Chris is in stable condition,” Willie went on, “and suffered no neurological effects from the incident. We expect him to make a full recovery. We do ask that you please keep Chris in your prayers.”
I am not religious, and in the past my reaction upon hearing that someone was praying for someone else was entirely cynical. Good for you, terrific. Now people were going to pray for me. Jenny’s aunt, a nun in Boston, even made sure my name was included among those for whom her congregation was to pray at Mass. All this felt rather good, surprisingly. I liked the idea that spiritual thoughts were traveling through the cosmos on my behalf. Whatever might work to get me out of this, I was in favor of.
I didn’t see or hear Willie read his statement because the television in my ICU room offered many channels but MSNBC was not one of them, a source of frustration during my entire stay. Nor, therefore, did I see him chat on the air a few minutes later with Mike Allen, the chief political writer of the Web site Politico, who had mentioned my brain bleed in his column that day, a column read by the same people who watch MJ, namely, the entire political universe.
But not long after all this discussion on the air, it became clear somebody must have said something about me, because my BlackBerry lit up with e-mails. Jenny now had possession of it as a precaution against my worst tendencies, and she began reading aloud the things that were flooding in. E-mails from people at NBC I hardly knew. People at NBC I’d had disagreements with. Civilians who were fans of the show, maybe had seen my face.
Thinking of you.
Get well.
It was merely the beginning. In time, Chris Matthews, the host of Hardball on MSNBC, would send a note saying, Aren’t you the guy who created that morning show that’s got all the buzz? Let me know if you want my movie collection—or to come visit and love you close up. Doris Wood of Surprise, Arizona, said she really missed seeing me on the air. Linda Tatum of Fort Riley, Kansas, said I needed to hurry back because Joe, Mika, and Willie “need experience to balance them out (smile).” Bonnie McGregor of Menlo Park, California, wanted the show to keep giving updates about my condition because I do such a good job with the production values, she said. And Brian Williams, the anchor of the NBC Evening News, sent a letter saying my event had sent a chill through 30 Rock because so many admired me.
This was overwhelming, especially the reaction from colleagues. I didn’t know about all this admiration Brian mentioned. I assumed my fan base was limited. After all, a killer producer, as he goes about his killing, inflicts casualties. If the show matters above all else, as it did to me, hurting someone’s feelings by being tough or brusque is an inevitable result.
I was aware enough of my reputation to have set out to be nicer and send fewer nasty