Sir David Frost
(September 2013)
Frost in my Heart
‘Hello, good evening (or morning) and welcome.’ That was how Sir David Frost would begin his shows and for about five decades entertained and informed the world. It’s been a little over a week and I am still unable to accept that he is no longer among us. He died suddenly of a heart attack on board the Q2, last Saturday night leaving behind a stunned world – family, colleagues, admirers and audiences. The accolades came pouring in because we all understood that there never will be another Frost. Not of the caliber and brilliance that this great broadcaster was and how he raised broadcast television to a new level.
David Frost went to Cambridge and soon became a part of the satirical scene of the ‘60s. His big break came when he was signed up for a new satirical show called ‘That Was the Week That Was’ first broadcast by the BBC in November 1962. He went on to host much-loved programmes such as The Frost Report in the 1960s, The Frost Programme in the 1970s and Frost on Sunday in the 1990s, persuading six American presidents, eight British prime ministers and countless celebrities to submit to his gentle but pointed questioning. He was best known for his series of five interviews with Nixon in 1977, in which he coaxed the former president to utter on camera, ‘I let down my friends. I let down the country.’
Sir Michael Parkinson, a friend for 40 years, said ‘Frost was an extraordinary guy. When you think of all the stuff he was responsible for – never mind the Nixon interview and the two television companies he helped set up too, it’s remarkable. But it’s not right to say he was a ‘soft interviewer’. He had a totally persuasive style which led to the unmasking of a scoundrel.’ A former UK prime minister said that ‘David had an extraordinary ability to draw out the interviewee, knew exactly where the real story lay and how to get at it, and was also a thoroughly kind and good-natured man. Being interviewed by him was always a pleasure, but you also knew that there would be multiple stories the next day arising from it.’ Sir Menzies Campbell, the former Liberal Democrat leader, said, ‘His scrupulous and disarming politeness hid a mind like a vice. David Frost could do you over without you realizing it until it was too late. He was a peerless broadcaster.’ Tony Hall, the BBC’s Director General added, ‘You couldn’t write the history of broadcasting today without realizing the huge influence David had on it.’
Between the ‘70s and 90s, David Frost was rarely off British television screens appearing in everything from news and documentaries to chat shows, quiz shows and comedy. In all, Frost presented more than 20 television series, produced 9 films, wrote 14 books, won numerous awards and global recognition. Through many failures – yes there were those too, Frost had the gift of putting those behind him and look on the bright side of things – ‘hello sunshine, how are you going? Lovely to see you.’ A fierce critic of Frost, said ‘he was a hollow man in pursuit of fame for its own sake,’ but even he found him ‘impossible to dislike.’ Though Frost had an insatiable appetite for celebrity, he was never arrogant or vain and wholly without rancour. People in Frost’s world were ‘wonderful,’ ‘super’ or ‘lovely.’ At comedian Peter Cook’s memorial service, Stephen Fry recalled an occasion when Frost rang Cook to invite him to dinner with Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson: ‘big fans..be super if you could make it – Wednesday the 12th.’ ‘Hang on, I’ll check my diary,’ said Cook, rifling through the pages. ‘Oh dear, I find I am watching television that night.’ Frost who was in the congregation, laughed with the rest of them.’ By the time of his untimely death, David Frost had achieved what very few do.
Sadly, the classical standards that Sir David Frost set for broadcast television find no place in modern day Pakistan where anchor men and women do exactly the opposite of what Frost proved. Rather than make a guest or guests comfortable and at ease, the so-termed professional broadcasters of our networks go on the rampage from the start. They out-talk and out-shout those whom they have invited to their studios. These guests, whatever their motivational forces may be, show up again and again to be yelled at.
Considering that they provide their time – long delays are inevitable, without being paid a cent, makes no sense, yet it happens. ‘five seconds of fame,’ said someone the other day. The only voice you hear on Pakistan TV channels is the voice of the anchors who firmly believe that people tune in to hear them only. Mercifully I am among the lucky ones who consider it insanity to watch any of the channels and am therefore spared the misery of the experience, but what madness possesses these people to display their poor upbringing, lack of a real education, class or culture – leave manners aside? Here are people, the majority of whom you had not even heard of only a few years ago and as they hop channels raising their perks and money in the bargain, you are forced to wonder what are the standards by which these people are able to bolster personal accounts and assets, become the messiahs of a new world order and self-styled TV gurus. Who decides that the more obnoxious and vile you are, the better for the channel? After all, the entire broadcast world is not run by half-crazed hooligans though it is becoming increasingly clear that it is.
Frost himself believed he got more out of his subjects by being nice to them – no Tim Sebastian he and felt that the impact of interviews was more compelling and sometimes chilling done conversationally than as a courtroom confrontation. ‘There’s little point weighing into the interviewee from the start. Much better to let him damn himself out of his own mouth, then you’ve got the ammunition you need.’ Of that happening on our blighted networks is just about the same as snow flakes sparkling in the Sahara Desert. Rest in peace, Sir David Frost.