Many people today are bemoaning the state of America's economy with all of the economic problems we've had this past year. But 14 years ago, the United States was bracing for a far worse economic upheaval, which fortunately never transpired. Ushering in the new year from 1999 to 2000 was simply referred to as Y2K.
I was working as news director at KCBY-TV at the time. Nobody knew what was going to happen when the clock struck midnight on New Year's. The problem stemmed from the fact that many people feared computers couldn't make the transition. Changing from the digits 1-9-9-9 to 2-0-0-0 could create havoc. Would bank ATMs automatically shut down because their systems couldn't accommodate a turning over of the numbers? What about ALL of the computer systems in the country? Would there be electrical black-outs when power grids shut down? Precautions were presumably taken, but everyone still didn't know what to expect. Planet Earth had never ushered in a new millennium before in the midst of a computer age.
KCBY Station Manager Dick McMahon called me in to his office beforehand to ask if me and my staff were ready for Y2K. I thought to myself, "Well, I've allowed two of my reporters to take off Christmas and New Year's to spend with their families." That left me and one other reporter to work on New Year's Eve.
I told Dick that we were ready. After all, did it make any difference whether two or four news staff were working New Year's Eve in the midst of a calamity? If everything did crumble and break down at midnight, I doubt that KCBY would be going live with ongoing coverage from the coast. We would undoubtedly take our feed from KVAL in Eugene, which would be covering Y2K disasters statewide and nationwide. Two news staff in Coos Bay would be enough to get video and do live inserts on KVAL from our KCBY Coos Bay studio, if we were needed at all.
Driving around Coos Bay during the evening on December 31st was anti-climactic. People weren't looting stores or running around the streets screaming. Things looked pretty quiet. While KCBY reporter Mike Murad remained in Coos Bay, I drove some 15 miles down to the Coos County Courthouse in Coquille. If all h*** did break loose, this would be the nerve center where the big decisions would be made.
All three Coos County Commissioners were bunkered down at the courthouse where the sheriff's office and dispatch center were located. Commissioners were present so that if they had to make big money-making decisions to re-allocate county funds, county personnel would be able to take immediate action to address a crisis.
Despite the severity of Y2K, the mood was somewhat festive at the courthouse. Commissioners were tuned in to the television networks' New Year's Eve countdown specials. And Coos County Commissioner Bev Owen brought samples of her homemade salsa to share with everyone in the room.
My journalist's mind immediately sprung into action. There would probably not be a crisis to report from the courthouse that night. But I still needed to grab a story for the 11p.m. news. What would be a better feature, or human interest story, than one of Coos County's top officials sharing her homemade salsa on the eve of the new millennium? At least I thought it was somewhat unique and that's the story I took back to Coos Bay...along with the fact that the county commissioners were poised to take action at midnight should a disaster befall the county.
After arriving back at KCBY, and before I anchored the 11p.m. news (I normally anchored the 5p.m.and 6p.m. news, but because half my staff were on vacation, I was anchoring all of the newscasts that evening), I received a visitor at the front door of the station. Former co-worker Mike Hennebeck from KPIC-TV in Roseburg and his girlfriend stopped by to say "hi." I felt honored that anyone would stop by on a dark, cold night in the midst of such uncertainty in the air that evening. But I appreciated their visit and returned to work. If Mike were spending New Year's Eve on the coast, and not staying close to his home in Roseburg, obviously everyone wasn't freaked out about Y2K.
Y2K came and went without incident. The sun rose the next morning, and apparently there were no significant problems in America's infrastructure. Surprisingly, the only "problem" that I had from Y2K was my story on Commissioner Owen's homemade salsa. Not only did I air the story on the 11p.m. news, but our morning new anchor (who was back from vacation) used the story several times during the morning cut-ins.
It was not uncommon to air the same story in different newscasts, because different people were presumably watching different newscasts. But KCBY's production manager had apparently seen the homemade salsa story in all of the newscasts that he had watched. During a meeting between myself, the production manager, and station manager McMahon, the production manager questioned the legitimacy of the story.
Why had the story aired so many times? Was there kind of kickback from Commissioner Owen for airing the story about her homemade salsa, which she occasionally sold? Weren't there other stories that could have aired instead?
I don't mind people questioning the legitimacy of a news story. I do it with other journalists, and I'm glad when other journalists do it with me. But what made my skin turn red was the implication there was some kind of deal or kickback between myself and Owen. I didn't allow myself to become angry with the production manager, because I knew he hadn't worked around me long enough to know my integrity. But anyone who had known about my previous 11 years of reporting experience would have never dared asked the question (except in jest)...because I was often the first journalist to hold elected officials accountable if there were a breach in public meetings law, public records requests, or simply an "unavailability" to answer the media's questions.
A commissioner's homemade salsa story was the only negative experience I had during Y2K. I drove back to my Reedsport apartment after midnight that evening. For the most part, entering the new millennium was no different than any other New Year. For me, Dick Clark's passing in 2012 had a more profound impact on New Year's than Y2K ever did.
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