Free Flirting with Danger by Siobhan Darrow

was an opportunity to hear a different perspective. Even if the reports were loaded with propaganda, there was often an interesting story within. And some were just plain funny. I thought
World Report
was visionary, one of CNN’s greatest strengths. I enjoyed having access to unpopular views from pariah nations around the world, and I thought it an important symbol of CNN as a forward-thinking, global station. The job felt like a gift, tailor-made for my sensibilities.
    For the years I worked on the show, I used to joke to friends that I was one of the best-informed people in the world. I knew more than anyone else about Zimbabwe’s irrigation projects or Turkey’s eczema-eating fish or Bahrain’s famous hair-dancers. We aired everything without discrimination. Thailand’s first contribution to the program was about a successful penis transplant. The Afghans would begin each report, “Dear Imperialist Viewers …” We took reports from places nobody else recognized as sovereign nations, like the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus.
    At the time, the show was treated like an unwanted stepchild at CNN. Many of the network’s bigwigs were embarrassed by it because the reports weren’t flashy or well produced and featured bedraggled-looking reporters with strongly accented or broken English. It was not exactly a ratings draw. But it attracted a cult following of news-hounds looking for the exotic and bizarre, and information thatwas unsanitized by the normal Americanization of news. It was an opportunity to discover how other cultures saw themselves. When Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990 and the United States, Britain, and other Western allies attacked Baghdad, it was a great outlet for opinions from the Middle East that ran contrary to those coming out of the State Department. But I had to fight to keep the show on the air during some of those weeks, since some producers didn’t consider Jordanian or Iraqi TV’s views appropriate. Like a protective mother, I argued that there was hardly a more appropriate time to hear the other side.
    I also loved the motley crew of broadcasters from all over the world who used to traipse through Atlanta and visit us. I often found myself making dinner for a Vietnamese TV reporter or a Malaysian cameraman who was passing through, and that gave me a taste of international life in the heart of the American South.
    At this point, I was still trying to figure out what to do with my Russian husband, and I ruled out other men from my life.
    Except for the boss. Ted Turner was larger and louder than your average man. He is one of those people who fills up an enormous space with his presence because he is so alive. I saw him charge through the newsroom a few times and always wondered what he was like. One day he noticed me too as he passed by my cubicle. A few minutes later his secretary was on the line telling me Ted wanted to speak to me. “Have dinner with me,” ordered a booming voice.
    I was shocked by the call and afraid to go out with him. Dating the boss is dangerous in any company. But Ted, who is persuasive and determined, wouldn’t take no for an answer. I agreed to lunch.
    Ted was between marriages at the time, and he liked the fact that I worked on his favorite show. It turned out we had a lot in common. We both loved Russia. I admired the way he wanted to try totell all sides of a story, even the most unpopular side. He might have made billions of dollars with his global vision, but his values were down home. He really thought he could help the world with his network. He wasn’t interested in news that was merely titillating or sensational. I loved the way he believed that he helped bring about an end to the Cold War by improving communication between Russia and the United States through CNN and the Goodwill Games. And I loved the way he lived by his own rules. He decided the Ten Commandments were out of date, that people didn’t like to be commanded to do anything, so he wrote