We needed a huge, global superstar to launch the show and we got one with Oprah.
CHAPTER 2
WEDNESDAY, 20 OCTOBER 2010
Jon Stewart’s unique brand of acerbic, frustrated, incensed, hilarious nightly political and social commentary on The Daily Show has made him an extraordinarily well-trusted figure who now has considerably more cultural influence on Americans than many of his non-comedic rivals.
Tonight, he appeared on Larry King Live, and I watched expectantly to see if one of my TV heroes would mention the fact I was taking over the CNN show in January.
He did.
‘By the way,’ he told Larry, ‘I think they made a brilliant choice by bringing in a British guy no one’s heard of. When I’m thinking about floating a sinking ship, what do I want to bring on it: a guy that people are going to tune in and go, “Who’s that, and why is he speaking so funny?”’
TUESDAY, 26 OCTOBER 2010
Jonathan Wald has closed his CNN deal.
‘Dress British, act Yiddish,’ was his first instruction today.
WEDNESDAY, 27 OCTOBER 2010
I’ve hired another crucial employee – my personal assistant.
Just the thought of juggling my schedules for CNN, America’s Got Talent and Life Stories, my UK talk show, made me break out in a rash.
I only had one person in mind for this insane task.
Juliana Severo is a smart, fiery, ballsy Italian American.
She was production manager of America’s Got Talent for three years, while still in her mid-twenties, and ran that maelstrom of madness with ruthless efficiency.
I need someone who’s going to watch my back, make sure I never miss an appointment, and tell a lot of people to go fuck themselves.
Juliana’s my girl.
THURSDAY, 28 OCTOBER 2010
We have a title for the show – Piers Morgan Tonight.
I’d prefer Piers Morgan Live, but my NBC contract means I won’t be able to go live every night, as they have first rights to my work on America’s Got Talent taping days. So for now this will have to suffice.
Jim Walton emailed: ‘The title is fine with me, but the PMT moniker will raise some eyebrows.’
I laughed. Jim’s married to a woman from England, so he knows that PMT is the abbreviation better known in the States as PMS.
THURSDAY, 4 NOVEMBER 2010
John took me to the Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C. this morning, where both his parents are buried. His father was a military man. And his brother Mike is a current high-ranking three-star US general.
Set in 624 immaculately preserved acres of woodland, the cemetery houses the simple white graves of more than 350,000 servicemen and women and their spouses.
More than a hundred new graves are prepared each week, many currently for troops killed on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan.
We came across the grave belonging to John F. Kennedy, who was buried at Arlington because he served in the navy. Only one other president is buried there – William Howard Taft.
A permanent small flame lies on JFK’s simple flat stone tomb, flickering defiantly. A few feet away is a quotation of his on a small wall: ‘Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.’
I looked out at the thousands of gravestones, many of them for people as young as eighteen or nineteen, and concluded once again that there can never be any decision for a leader of a country more important to make than the one to go to war.
We reached John’s parents’ grave and he knelt in the pouring rain to pay his respects.
I found the whole experience profoundly moving.
MONDAY, 8 NOVEMBER 2010
Last night, I watched Client 9, the new documentary movie about scandalous former New York governor Eliot Spitzer. It carries special interest for me now because Spitzer currently hosts the show that will lead into mine on CNN.
He was forced to resign sensationally two years ago after it was revealed he’d been using an escort agency despite leading a crackdown against illegal prostitution rings.
But as the film shows, before the scandal broke, he was a consistently loud, brave and passionate defender of the downtrodden little guy against the rich, privileged, corrupt elite. Spitzer also aggressively pursued the very people who caused the global financial crisis, specifically targeting predatory lending practices by mortgage lenders.
All this made him the people’s hero, and led him to be touted as a Democratic presidential candidate. But it also made him despised by many on Wall Street and in Washington, which explains why there was such undisguised relish at his demise.
I had a good chat with him in his office this afternoon, and he’s a dynamic and obviously fiercely intelligent man, determined to try and make his struggling CNN show work.
Whether he can ride out the current cacophony of criticism about his appointment remains to be seen.
TUESDAY, 9 NOVEMBER 2010
President George W. Bush has finally broken his post-presidency silence and it’s been quite an eye-opener.
Bush ended up a very unpopular president, but I saw a human, and even rather charming, side to him in his various TV interviews this week, which surprised me.
A prime minister from one of the Caribbean islands once told me that he’d had dinner with Bush and Tony Blair separately within the space of six months.
‘What was the difference between them?’ I asked.
‘Bush looked me in the eye and told me what he knew I wasn’t going to like hearing, whereas Blair looked me in the eye and told me what he thought I wanted to hear.’
And I suspect there’s a certain truth to that. Listening to a lifetime conservative like Bush firmly defending his controversial decisions, such as going to war in Iraq and waterboarding al-Qaeda suspects, I could tell that he genuinely believed in what he was saying – even if I personally vehemently disagreed with him.
When I’ve seen Blair, a left-wing lawyer, try and defend similar stuff, he sounds considerably less sincere.
WEDNESDAY, 10 NOVEMBER 2010
Donald Trump invited me to a party tonight to launch Kim Kardashian’s new perfume.
‘How’s my champ?’ he shouted when he saw me coming down the red carpet. Ever since I won his Celebrity Apprentice show, this is what Trump always calls me.
Trump’s a polarising figure, but I love his supreme self-confidence – as confirmed by the titles of his books: Think Like a Billionaire, Think Big and Kick Ass and my favourite: No Such Thing as Over-Exposure.
Beneath the cocksure bluster, though, Trump’s a very smart businessman, and he’s now seriously considering going for the biggest job of them all – the presidency.
‘It’s very tempting,’ he confessed tonight. ‘Everywhere I go, people ask me if I’m running. And I’m considering it. I mean, how many more houses can I buy and sell?’
A race between Sarah Palin and Donald Trump for the Republican ticket in 2012 would be a sensational one for the media, and possibly a worrying one for Barack Obama, given the huge popularity both of them have among many mainstream Americans.
One of the many fascinating things about Trump is that he’s never touched a drop of alcohol, smoked a cigarette or tried a drug. He doesn’t even drink coffee.
His only vice is women.
I once asked him for the secret to his success with the ladies, and he explained:
‘A lot of it is down to The Look. It doesn’t mean you have to look like Cary Grant, it means you have to have a certain way about you, a stature. I see some successful guys who just don’t have The Look. And they are never going to go out with great women. The Look is very important. I don’t really like to talk about it because it sounds very conceited … but it matters.’
THURSDAY, 11 NOVEMBER 2010
Appeared as a guest on my America’s Got Talent co-star
Nick Cannon’s radio show this morning. His wife, Mariah Carey, has just announced she’s pregnant, giving me the perfect way to get straight under his skin.
‘Congratulations, Daddy!’ I exclaimed.
‘Thank you, Mr Morgan,’ he replied, instantly suspicious.
‘You are the daddy, I presume?’ I added. ‘I’ve been ruled out, right?’
Nick laughed, in the way that Mafia don John Gotti used to laugh before slicing his victims into sausages.
‘You are the only man alive who I’d let say that,’ he said, ‘without whipping their butt.’
‘Will you both come on my CNN show?’ I asked.
‘Yes, definitely. Just so that, if you repeat this line of questioning, I can whip your butt on live TV.’
It’s just as well I’m doing my own bookings, because I heard this afternoon that one of Larry King’s top bookers, Nancy Baker, is now going to stay working for him on his four CNN specials a year, after indicating to us that she’d come to our show.
It’s a blow, because her reputation is strong, and I will live or die by the quality of the guests.
A few hours later, we heard that another of Larry’s senior bookers had also changed her mind.
I suspected the hand of Wendy Walker, Larry’s long-time producer, and erupted with anger in an email to Jonathan after reading the latest rejection message.
‘Right,’ I wrote. ‘Fuck them. Let’s go to war. Wendy and her coterie have wasted enough of our time.’
‘I think you “replied all”, so they’ll get the message loud and clear,’ he wrote back.
Oh God, no. I didn’t, did I?
I checked.
Yes, I did.
When I’d calmed down a few hours later, I realised that Wendy was only doing what she’d done with huge success for nearly two decades – look after Larry.
I admire her loyalty. And, for that matter, the loyalty of the bookers.
FRIDAY, 12 NOVEMBER 2010
Lunch with Ted Turner, the entrepreneurial genius who created CNN.
We met at his midtown Manhattan restaurant, Ted’s Montana Grill, and both ate his famous bison burgers.
He added a very precise order of five French fries.
‘Six makes me fat, four makes me hungry,’ he explained.
Ted, now seventy-two, is an extraordinary character. He’s one of America’s biggest private landowners, possessing more than two million acres; he won the America’s Cup sailing contest and the World Series with the Atlanta Braves; gave a billion dollars to charity when such an act was unheard of; and married Jane Fonda.
He achieved all of this with his famous mantra, borrowed from Henry Ford: ‘Early to bed early to rise, work like hell, and advertise.’
‘What’s your biggest remaining ambition?’ I asked.
‘To rid the world of nuclear weapons.’
‘And of all the people you’ve ever met, who has been the most impressive?’
‘Gorbachev,’ he said, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Many people have had an effect on parts of the world, but that man changed the whole world.’
I asked him what advice he had for me.
‘Do the news intelligently. Don’t dumb down to chase ratings.’
It was a fun, fascinating lunch.
Ted shook my hand as we left, and smiled: ‘I think you’re gonna do just fine, young man.’
I hope so.
I owe it to Ted Turner and all those who made CNN what it is.
SUNDAY, 14 NOVEMBER 2010
Feeling mischievous, I emailed Rupert Murdoch today to invite him to be one of my first guests.
Dear Mr Murdoch,
I hope you’re well. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m replacing Larry King at CNN in January. Not quite as crazy as you making me editor of the News of the World at twenty-eight, but bordering on it.
I would love to interview you for the show. On a scale of one to a hundred, what are my chances? If the answer is zero, I’ll stop trying. Anything higher than that, I’d really like to try and persuade you.
Kind regards,
Piers
Given that he owns one of my main competitors, Fox News, I won’t hold my breath. But you never know with him …
TUESDAY, 16 NOVEMBER 2010
Prince William and Kate Middleton announced their engagement today, sparking an absolute frenzy of excitement here in the States.
This royal romance is electrifying America in a way I haven’t seen since Diana and Charles walked down the aisle. The happy couple has been on the cover of almost every celebrity magazine for months, and more and more TV airtime has been devoted to analysing every nook and cranny of a wedding that until today hadn’t even been confirmed.
‘Are you friends with them?’ Jonathan asked. ‘Can you get the first interview?’
The answer is no, and no. William and I have shared a few moments over the years – including a remarkable, private two-hour lunch at Kensington Palace with his mother – but he still views anyone associated with the tabloids as vermin.
‘It might be easier booking Elvis or Superman.’
Jonathan laughed: ‘Best line from Superman. Lex Luthor to assistant: “I ask you to kill Superman and you couldn’t even do that one simple thing.”’
WEDNESDAY, 17 NOVEMBER 2010
Jonathan’s been working on the set design.
‘Do you want to face the audience with your desk, like Leno [I think not], and do you prefer to have your left or right side facing the camera?’
These seem like simple questions.
But they can actually be incredibly important.
‘I want to sit on the same side of the desk that Larry sat, facing the guest,’ I said.
THURSDAY, 18 NOVEMBER 2010
Rupert Murdoch replied.
‘Hi, Piers, thanks for the compliment, but your chances of getting me on CNN are zero in a hundred! However, I wish you luck with your show. Best wishes, Rupert.’
FRIDAY, 19 NOVEMBER 2010
We’re less than two months away from launch and still barely have anyone in the newsroom.
There’s just me, Jonathan, Juliana, Maria Arceo the senior show coordinator, and a solitary booker, Susan Durrwachter.
But we’ve been interviewing dozens of people, and secured some very good candidates to come on board very soon.
‘We’ll be fine,’ said Jonathan. It’s reassuring that he seems to know exactly what he’s doing.
SUNDAY, 21 NOVEMBER 2010
CNN has started running promos for my show.
One features me staring down the camera saying, ‘Come on America, call me what you like – call me nosy, unpredictable, British … but do not call me boring!’
Another suggests that I’m going to be dangerous, and keen to ‘seek the truth’.
One of my former Mirror journalists, Steve Dennis, emailed me tonight from Los Angeles, where he now works as an author: ‘I’ve just suffered a flashback. That look, hands in pocket, expressionless “bring it on” face, followed by the timely raise of the eyebrows. That is your withering Mirror editor look! It’s official. You mean business. I’m warning everyone.’
I laughed. It does feel like I’m going back in time to when I first walked into those newsrooms at the News of the World and the Mirror.
Fear was not an option.
They were two of the most ruthlessly professional, aggressive places in news-gathering history.
And as with CNN now, there were a lot of people just waiting for me to fall flat on my smug little face.
MONDAY, 22 NOVEMBER 2010
I’ve bought a pub, a few streets from my London home in Kensington.
It’s called The Hansom Cab, and Rupert’s going to run it for me.
Pubs have played a big part in my life.
I grew up in one. My parents ran a place called The Griffin Inn, in Sussex, from when I was five to thirteen.
During this era drunk driving was rife and barely a night went by without people fight
ing, illicitly fornicating, getting arrested or simply falling over, drunk as skunks. ‘Lock-ins’ – when pub owners let drinkers stay in the pub after the legal closing time – were the norm.
It all seemed utterly thrilling to me. Though one of my mother’s most shameful moments came when the local primary school headmistress made a formal complaint that her treasured oldest son had arrived for lessons ‘smelling of alcohol’.
It was true, I had. But only because I often spent half an hour before school ‘bottling up’, which involved replenishing all the empty pub shelves with new bottles of beer, wine, spirits and mixers.
When we moved a mile away to Newick, I began partaking in alcohol in a more direct way.
At fifteen, I drank my first pint of Strongbow cider with slow, deliberate glee in the corner of the Royal Oak.
It was illegal, of course. But in those days, village pubs were full of kids my age. As long as you looked even vaguely eighteen, the legal drinking age, you were fine.
I grew to love that pub with a passion.
Every Friday and Saturday, I’d pile in there with my mates and drink as much Strongbow as I could physically consume before my body gave way.
Those evenings would follow a familiar pattern.
I’d get louder and more obnoxious as the cider took its grip, until eventually someone would pour a pint over my head, temporarily blinding me in the process. I’d then wheel around, lashing out at suspected assailants until the leggy landlady, Mary, object of all our adolescent dreams, would utter the immortal words: ‘Piers, you’re banned!’ And throw me into the street.
From there, I’d stumble the mile-long walk home, occasionally lurching into a hedge.
The next morning, I’d be back at opening time to beg forgiveness from Mary – who would always capitulate, but often only when I’d agreed to do a few free shifts behind the bar.
The Royal Oak, along with cricket, became the focal point of my life.
When I chart the funniest ten evenings of my life, at least three or four would involve the Oak. At the top of the list is the time Jeremy beat his own record for drinking a pint of beer, without spilling a drop, while standing on his head, upside down.
Shooting Straight: Guns, Gays, God, and George Clooney Page 4