The Man in Black & White11/24/2006 07:00:00 PM Eastern
When I took the reins at Broadcasting & Cable
nearly three years ago, I hadn't been on the job four days when John Higgins
saved my newbie-editor-in-chief ass. I recall that now as we mourn the loss of
Higgins—always Higgins—our dear friend and business editor, who died of a
heart attack last week at 45.
Comcast had made a hostile bid to buy the Walt Disney Co. Higgins was so
wired into the deal that top Comcast executives were calling him from their
corporate jets as they crisscrossed the country to rally support from the
Higgins sensed, even before those at Comcast ultimately would, that the
gambit would fail, and his prescient story that graced the cover of my first
issue made us all look very smart. It was the first of many times.
I knew of Higgins long before we came to be colleagues at
B&C, where he predated me by seven years. He was the
utterly fearless guy who would ask anybody the tough questions, no matter how
lofty their title—anytime, anyplace.
He was the guy who'd gleefully uncovered corporate malfeasance at FNN,
the precursor to CNBC. The guy who asked Barry Diller, during an investor
conference call, where he and fiancée Diane Von Furstenberg were
registered. (“Florida!” Diller barked back.)
Powerful CEOs visibly tensed up when they saw Higgins coming at them,
wearing his trademark uniform: black blazer, black jeans, black sneakers and
white oxford shirt. He once asked ABC News President David Westin if he thought
Diane Sawyer had been “passive aggressive” in her unsuccessful play for the
World News anchor job. I didn't have to prod him to ask
Fox News Chairman Roger Ailes if he actually believed Hannity &
Colmes was a fair fight.
Higgins both loved and loathed the spotlight. Along with
B&C Executive Editor Mark Robichaux, a longtime friend
of his, I cajoled him for nearly a year before he agreed to write the column
that would become “Money Talks.”
He was contemptuous of most pundits and didn't want to be one more guy
who “just gassed.” But we knew we weren't the only ones who prized
Higgins' sage wisdom. Top media analysts routinely joked that Higgins would
put them out of work if he ever decided to cross over from journalism.
The night before Higgins died, he and I were supposed to meet for a
post-party after the International Emmys. I was too tired and called him on his
cell to tell him I couldn't make it. “C'mon, I need a wing man,” he
said. “You don't need me to protect you,” I said. “That party is always
a target-rich environment; you'll have a great time.”
Just as well, he said: “I always drink more when I'm with you.” We
laughed, and I asked him about his column for this week's issue. Late, as
usual. “It'll sail through,” he assured me. “Just like last week's.
See you bright and early.”
Few reporters I know have the chops—or the charm—to get away with
that kind of cockiness and contempt for deadlines. Driven to exasperation, I
once told him, “I have better luck getting my kids to listen to me!”
Higgins just flashed that devilishly cherubic smile and said, “Your kids have
to love you. I don't.” My 11-year-old son, Jack, loves to tell that story.
(C'mon, John. You did, though, didn't you? Just a little?)
Higgins was a true partner in running this magazine and upholding its
mission. Only two weeks ago, we were camped in my office, working the phones to
nail down who would be the new CEO of Discovery. When we determined that it was
David Zaslav, Higgins beamed and said, “You and I have the most fun of
anybody here. We're out there. We get to write. We're in the mix.”
It won't be nearly as fun without Higgins. He was a guide and guardian
to us all at B&C. Truly irreplaceable. Truly loved. So
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