Betty Cope, General Manager, WVIZ-TV Channel 25
1982 SPECIAL CITATION FOR DISTINGUISHED SERVICE TO THE ARTS
In the early 1960s, the content of commercial television in
the United States was so egregiously puerile that Federal
Communications Commission chairman Newton Minnow was moved to refer to
the nation's airwaves as a “vast wasteland.” Yet even as the wasteland
expanded and grew more desolate over the years, an oasis of
intelligence, taste and sophistication thrived as a singular refuge for
Cleveland audiences.
WVIZ-TV
Channel 25 signed on the air in February 1965 and quickly became more
than merely a purveyor of what was often dismissed as “educational”
television. WVIZ would also serve as a forum for local opinion-makers
and personalities, a window on the life of the community and a
kaleidoscopic carnival of uniquely informative entertainment.
And in its first two decades, the person most responsible for the health and welfare of the fledgling station was Betty Cope.
The
Geauga County native had been bitten by the broadcasting bug as a young
woman, making her initial foray into television in the 1940s at WEWS,
Cleveland's first commercial station. She started there as a
receptionist, but before long became the station's first woman producer
and program director. Eventually she left to found and operate her own
production firm.
With so much
experience in the world of broadcasting, it was easy for Cope to
recognize the fragility of the newborn WVIZ when she was named its
first programming chief and general manager. Knowing that the station's
charter as a public broadcaster precluded it from selling commercial
time, her primary concern from the start was to keep the place afloat
in its most vulnerable first years. To that end she made a crucial
strategic decision: to focus most of Channel 25's meager resources on
creating instructional programming that could be sold to school systems
nationwide. That decision proved prescient, as classroom programming
became a fundamental long-term source of revenue and secured the
station's future.
But what of a mass audience? Stuck in the hard-to-find depths of the UHF dial, WVIZ was also modestly equipped—to
put it charitably: The station's first studio, for example, was the
stage in Max S. Hays Vocational High School on Cleveland's West Side.
So it faced a distinct disadvantage when competing for viewership with
the big boys of Cleveland television.
Yet
compete it did, thanks to Cope's programming acumen. WVIZ's locally
produced offerings complemented the dramas, music specials and public
affairs shows that were beginning to be syndicated through the Public
Broadcasting Service. In some cases, local programs actually pre-dated
shows that would later become PBS favorites. Before Charlie Rose, for
example, there was the talk show Robertson at Large, with author and popular Cleveland Press newspaper columnist Don Robertson. Long before C-SPAN's weekend Book TV
programming, Cope was airing one of the country's first shows devoted
to the appreciation of literature, hosted by local book reviewer
Eugenia Thornton. And Know Your Antiques with local experts Ralph and Terry Kovel was a precursor of the BBC's hugely popular Antiques Roadshow series.
Usually
working behind the scenes, Cope would become an on-air personality in
her own right during the station's annual membership drives and the
fund-raising auctions she initiated in 1968. Year after year she stood
in front of the camera, making the case for supporting the only station
in town that provided discerning audiences with something a bit more
worthwhile than westerns, game shows and cops and robbers dramas. And
it worked. WVIZ recorded only three deficits during the 27 years she
was at the helm, and by the time she retired in 1993 the station had
50,000 paid members and was broadcasting from fully equipped
professional studios in its own building on Brookpark Road.
More
than anyone else, Betty Cope sustained WVIZ through its infancy and
demonstrated that the harsh realities of broadcasting did not have to
negate a mission to bring quality fare to a community. Today, with the
wasteland bigger than ever, it's comforting for Clevelanders to know
that, thanks to her, their oasis is still out there.
—Mark Gottlieb
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