East Bay Grill:

East Bay Grill:

Leslie Griffith Clears the Air

Leslie Griffith, weekend news anchor and reporter at KTVU Channel 2, didn’t set out be a TV personality—like Lana Turner, she was discovered. Her big break came at a teachers convention. A high-school English teacher in her native Texas, Griffith impressed the news director of a small Colorado TV station who happened to be attending the convention. He offered her a job. Starting out, she had to videotape her own stories, write her own copy and operate the Teleprompter with her foot while she read the news. (Sometimes, she says, the Teleprompter would get stuck, “and that’s when you get that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.”) Griffith was discovered a second time when Channel 2 news honcho Fred Zhender caught her act on a Salinas station. After nine-years at KTVU, Griffith says she’s not a news junk-ie. She likes to cook and read at home, in Walnut Creek, and spend time with her two daughters, with whom she favors a hard-news approach—when one daughter pulled a D in English, Griffith took back her Volvo. I met Griffith at Channel 2 prior to her newscast. (For all you male viewers, yes, she does have a boyfriend.)

Paul Kilduff: You anchor Saturday nights, when a lot of dateless-for-life guys are watching. Anything you want to say to them?

Leslie Griffith: Tell the guys in Vacaville from cell number 316 not to write me anymore. A friend of mine who’s a deputy sheriff once told me what they do with the photos we send them. I can’t tell you, but think of the most perverse thing you can.

PK: That’s easy. Speaking of photogenics, how big a role does your hair play in your life?

LG: I’ll never wear my hair down if I’ve got time to put it up, because it’s like a big hunk of stuff. It’s past my waist and it grows real fast. I think it’s distracting to people—they go, “Oh, wonder how she did that?” And that’s not what you’re there for.

PK: I know that longevity can be tough for a woman in TV news, be-cause of TV’s emphasis on looks.

LG: Are you trying to tell me something? You’re right—we used to have the lifespan of a medfly. That’s not true anymore, though you still see a lot of 26-year-olds paired with 50-year-old men. It’s some kind of masculine fantasy. As a woman watching at home I’m paying no attention to that. I’m listening to what the person’s saying. I remember when I first started they told me I should pluck my eyebrows—because I had, like, Brezhnev eyebrows. Finally, after years, I agreed to do it a little bit. But it hurts. I think every man should try it. If I have a choice between going over my story and making it more accurate or running in there and taking my face out of the bag, I’ll leave it in the bag.

PK: When you’re out reporting the latest natural disaster do the producers try to put you in the most precarious position possible? Like, “OK, Leslie, more mud!”

LG: We look for the most dramatic shot, yes. If I’m reporting from a forest fire and we have the choice of fire behind me coming over the hill or the shot of me downtown next to a phone booth safe and sound, then we’re going to be near what we’re talking about. The same with the L.A. riots. In the middle of the riots the CNN crew ran into their van—they saw this throng of young kids coming and they jumped in their van and locked us out. So we ended up doing a live shot from the middle of this crowd. That was not by choice.

PK: That makes me feel better—you’re out there in the elements and I’m sitting at home with a beer, shoes off, going, “Now that’s journalism!”

LG: Run, mascara, run!

PK: Your eyes are brown.

LG: What color did you think they were?

PK: Blue.

LG: Oh, I’ve always wanted blue eyes, but I think you need to adjust your television.

PK: How about a battle of the Bay Area news babes? Would you climb in the ring with Anna Chavez?

LG: You mean like punch her? I think I could take her in a minute. She’s a little bitty thing.

PK: Any advice for Terilyn Joe on the lip gloss? Tone it down a notch, maybe?

LG: Well, you know, you get carried away and you start going, “Ohhh, those lips look nice! Let’s try a little more.” Is there anything like that you’d like to tell me about myself?

PK: What about wearing braids?

LG: Oh, the Heidi look. I used to wear my hair in braids and then the desk started calling me Heidi behind my back, so I stopped. I yodeled a few times and got it out of my system.

PK: Is it required that you shuffle your script after the newscast is over?

LG: My boyfriend noticed that at the end of every broadcast I pick ’em up and make sure they’re straight—like it matters, right? They go right in the trash.

PK: You taught high-school English—do you have a master’s?

LG: I never finished. It wouldn’t have done me any good here anyway. I mean, who wants you to quote Shakespeare in the middle of a newscast? “Fourteen people were killed this afternoon, and Shakespeare said . . .” How about if I do some Robert Frost? You’ll like this one: “Nature’s first green is gold, the heart is through the hold, her first leaf the flower, but only for an hour. The leaf subsides to leaf.” Normally I only do this when I’m drunk.

PK: I have that effect on women. Are you an A’s or a Giants fan?

LG: Mostly A’s. Believe me, I take a lot grief over that. The people here are almost 90 percent Giants fans. Designated hitter? They believe it’s sacrilege, that the American League is not pure.

PK: But that’s why National League ball is so boring. It’s just a big pitchers’ duel.

LG: That’s the way I feel. Move that game along. Somebody once said, “Football is a one-night stand. Baseball is a love affair.” I’ll explain it to you later. Wham bam, football, thank you ma’am. Baseball is courting, strategy and special moves. Are we almost through?

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Suggestions? E-mail Paul Kilduff at PKilduff@sbcglobal.net.
The Kilduff File Archive

 

Faces of the East Bay