Hot Topics Get Chilly Ad Reception

Consider the following scenario. An explosion rocks a clinic that performs abortions. A reporter from the Los Angeles Times is sent to the scene, where pickets from both pro-choice and pro-life groups are present. He interviews both sides, determined to come up with a story that is both objective and thought-provoking.

As the reporter is writing the article, the paper’s publisher receives a call from not one, not two, but six of the paper’s largest advertisers saying that they are pulling their advertising from tomorrow’s edition if any story about the abortion clinic bombing, no matter how objective, appears. Their attitude is polite but firm--they do not wish to be associated with such an issue.

The response of any responsible publisher would be automatic--such a ham-fisted attempt at economic censorship would become a Page 1 story in itself.

What’s this have to do with TV? Unfortunately, a great deal. Any producer who attempts to deal with abortion, birth control, child abuse, homosexuality, drug use or a variety of other controversial issues knows that he is flirting with economic disaster.

When “Law & Order” ran an episode about the bombing of an abortion clinic, advertisers responded with $500,000 in pullouts. An episode about assisted suicide for AIDS victims had $350,000 in pullouts. In fact, for the first half of its first season two years ago, “Law & Order” had more pullouts than any other show on network television. Second place? “L.A. Law.”

To NBC’s credit, the network bit the bullet and ran the episodes. And it continues to support “difficult” stories on both shows.

Thankfully (and this is the real lesson), NBC’s faith has been justified. By the middle of the first season, the advertisers began to realize that the reason “Law & Order” was attracting an upscale, intelligent, adult audience was because the show was dealing with controversial issues in an objective, responsible, adult manner.

This last season, the show was nominated for six Emmys, including best dramatic series, and won the National Board of Review’s D.W. Griffith Award and a Silver Gavel from the American Bar Assn. “L.A. Law,” meanwhile, has become one of the most honored dramatic series in history.

Unfortunately, awards and good reviews can’t prevent a show from being bloodied by its choice of material. “Quantum Leap,” a multi-Emmy, Golden Globe-winning third-year drama, went through a firestorm last season over an episode dealing with homosexuality in a military school. Even though the episode was sending an extremely positive message of mutual understanding, there was a semi-hysterical tone (both pro and con) in the reporting of what was essentially a minor standards-and-practices flap that would have been resolved easily in the day-to-day negotiations between the producers on the series and their counterparts at the network.

Unfortunately, any reporting of the story couldn’t help but have a ripple effect. Every time special-interest groups have their concerns publicized, they benefit. The more publicity, the more other groups emulate the practice. This, despite the fact that there has never been a successful product boycott, which is the ultimate nightmare for a national advertiser.

Ultimately, the viewer is the victim.

The economic realities of producing prime-time network dramas are truly daunting for both the network and the supplier. A 13-episode order will cost the network, between license fee and launch costs, in excess of $15 million. And it costs the producer significantly more. It doesn’t take Donald Trump to figure out that an $850,000 loss on two episodes adds up to bad math.

Beyond that, it’s very difficult for new dramas to find an audience. This is hardly a new phenomenon. The difference is, back in ancient history, say six or seven years ago, shows were at least given their full shot at 13 episodes. Now, the trigger can be pulled after three airings. Television has become more like movies, where the fate of a $30-million film that opens Friday can be decided by Saturday morning. A picture either opens or it doesn’t. The same is becoming true with series.

Producers may rail, but, as always, the networks will do what’s best for the networks. This is why the advertiser pullout problem affects the viewer. Until a new drama gets established, the producers run a risk if they do any stories of a controversial nature.

The Catch-22 aspect of it all is that certain series should, by their very nature, deal with these subjects. Carroll O’Connor’s decision to feature an interracial relationship in the Deep South on “In the Heat of the Night” should be applauded. And there’s absolutely no reason that a new drama shouldn’t be able to present the same configuration without committing economic suicide. But it probably won’t happen.

The underlying problem is the way time is sold to the advertising agencies. For example, the agencies that purchased time on “Quantum Leap” for their clients were buying a third-year show with a known demographic. They knew the nature of the show and they were familiar with executive producer Don Bellisario’s track record. But they also knew that they had a stipulation in their contract that guaranteed against buyer’s remorse: Within an agreed-upon time before air, the agencies are given synopses of each episode. If they are uncomfortable with any of the “content,” they get a money-back guarantee.

Quite simply, it’s too easy to say no. This is the way business has been done for nearly 50 years, and, to date, none of the networks has been willing to risk changing the status quo.

The system worked fine when there were only the three commercial networks--time never went begging. It’s not the same world anymore. Cable has given us the 100-channel universe. Pullouts now hurt.

The viewer must understand that free TV is, in reality, merely a life-support system for commercials. That’s why it’s free. The network is there to make a profit on the time it sells. If there are too many advertiser pullouts, it doesn’t. The producer is there to get a show on the network that can stay on the network long enough to get enough episodes so that some time in the future he can make a profit by selling reruns. It’s this need that leads to the inevitable conflict between art and commerce.

The producer knows that the deck is stacked against him, since the attrition rate for new dramas is staggering. With the stakes so high, the temptation is to engage in self-censorship rather than panicking the studio or network over story choices.

This is the most insidious form of censorship: The creator becomes the instrument of his own homogenization.

With the serious dramatic series close to becoming an endangered species, viewers must make it clear that they want this programming choice available to them; and that they want it uncensored by advertisers who, afraid of offending the few, are trying to deprive the many of an opportunity to see dramatizations of some of the most serious issues facing us.

TV is the most important media invention since movable type. The opportunity to utilize it to its fullest potential shouldn’t be inhibited.