My Barbara Walters

I was flattered, but baffled, when the acting manager of the Portland, Oregon, ABC-TV affiliate told me I was to host Barbara Walters. Me? Well, yes, in my role as Public Affairs Director, occasionally I made external hospitality arrangements for visitors. But if ABC news anchor Peter Jennings was stopping over in Portland, certainly I wouldn't have been so honored.

There were two unrelated explanations: First, Barbara truly was coming to Portland for personal reasons, to help her daughter, Jackie, settle with a friend into an apartment. But the other came as a shock: the big guys were shunning her. My beloved boss, soon to retire as GM, was still seething over her $1 million salary and news co-anchor inducement by ABC a decade earlier.

I can't recall now how I learned the back story of Barbara and Jackie's strained mother-daughter relationship, fueling Barbara's anxiety about Jackie's decision to move 3,000 miles from her parental nest. Remembering my younger self as a sometimes-rebellious daughter of a working journalist mother, and now a remarried working mother of a rebellious college-age daughter, I thought I understood Jackie's determination to strike out on her own.

I didn't. Not by a long chalk. She was the daughter of a ferociously hard-working celebrity mother, for whom the cost of professional success was a greater liability than her earned wealth was an asset.

In line with my "Stumptown" attitude towards helping Jackie adjust, I arranged to drive them around in my three-year-old Subaru wagon instead of the chauffeured limo Barbara was prepared to hire. At their hotel suite, I was greeted by stylish Barbara Walters and her daughter, a statuesque beauty with a dazzling smile.

A mirror reflected my ridiculous clothing: a slouchy batik cotton jacket over baggy jersey yoga pants. What was I thinking? Could be I was pushing the "Orygun" (the phonetic spelling of Oregon) schtick a tad too far for anyone's comfort.

Barbara asked to see the community college campus where Jackie planned to register. This being Sunday, the entry was chained and signed "No Admittance." But Jackie piped up, "Just drive around the posts." Hesitatingly, I did so, then on to campus roads so Barbara could survey the college buildings. The wooded park-like setting was not what a Manhattanite had imagined. It was a positive beginning.

Next stop: Pick up Jackie's friend Stacy and head to the Oregon zoo for the annual birthday party for Packy, our celebrity elephant. A long line at the entrance prompted Barbara to whisper to Jackie: "Should I pull the Famous Faces routine?" Jackie readily agreed. The Barbara Walters, whose identity I was determined to protect, spoke briefly to the ticket taker, and the waters parted.

I had arranged for my husband, Robert, to pick up pizza for supper at our house. I won't apologize for our architect-designed home with folk art décor. But the previous evening, Barbara and Jackie had been entertained at the magnificent, art-filled estate of Portland's most formidable and civic-minded couple, the Schnitzers. Arlene Schnitzer and Barbara were about the same age and moved in similar circles. Their ensuing friendship would provide an important support network.

To contrast the "casual normality" of an ordinary Portland household, I invited my son Adam and a friend to join us. These studious young men weren't remotely Jackie types, but both had a quick sense of humor and hilarity soon took over.

Robert, meanwhile, had called to say the pizza wasn't ready. While we waited, the six of us gathered at the kitchen dining table and picked at salad I had made in the morning.

My dear husband arrived flustered, to say the least. I could sense within 30 minutes that he was ready to do the dishes. Instead, Barbara charmed him through conversation about his interest, opera, animating it with anecdotes from her friend Beverly Sills.

The four young adults set out for Rimsky's, a popular coffee house, where no liquor is served but the chocolate cake is seventh heaven. Barbara thanked me with generous words and a hug. Robert drove her back to the hotel. I cleaned up the kitchen, trying to process one unreal day and prepare for the next.

Barbara hadn't intended to spend any time in the TV station. But I offered a bright idea that, after fall quarter at the community college, Jackie might like an internship with the creator of our children's program "Popcorn." That seemed appealing to Jackie, and, of course, Barbara was thrilled.

On Monday, I greeted their arrival by taxi, wearing my most professional Ann Taylor red gaberdine suit with black tights and pumps. Barbara noticed approvingly. Jackie concurred. Obviously, a better choice than the baggy yoga pants.

The station manager briefly welcomed Barbara, but then retreated into his office. Staff members who encountered her were ecstatic. Anyone who had studied broadcasting had studied Barbara Walters!

Although I was an oddity, with only a liberal arts education, my journalist mother had idealized Barbara Walters as a role model. Barbara asked if there was somewhere she could make phone calls. I had a real office with a solid door, primarily because I was in charge of "the public file," an FCC-mandated requirement. It was startling to see Barbara seated in my desk chair, inserting a blank page into my self-correcting IBM Selectric typewriter. I loved the sight, and I told her so.

While Barbara and I went to a riverfront restaurant for lunch, Jackie spent much of the day under the wing of the "Popcorn" producer, meeting young staff members and watching photographers, directors and engineers record studio productions. Barbara was encouraged to think the internship would work out.

She hugged and thanked me as she and Jackie departed. This time it was via a limousine. She called the following morning, before leaving town, to thank me again. She was uncommonly gracious in that way.

At Christmas that year, Barbara and Jackie sent me a luxurious surprise from La Costa spa: a wicker valise packed with peach-scented spa products. I was on the verge of turning 50 and was headed to France to celebrate. Barbara, almost 9 years older, was stunning in the prime of her life. I wrote her, "I am using all the peach products diligently and will send you a card from Paris to tell you whether they worked." Separately, I wrote to Jackie, "You don't suppose I'll grow fuzz, do you?"

I had little contact with Jackie during the following year. The internship didn't work out. Arlene had another idea, that Jackie's fashion flair could be cultivated at an academy for careers in various aspects of modeling. I learned from the "Downtowner" publication that Barbara had been in Portland for Jackie's graduation. But Barbara wrote not long after that Jackie had moved to Seattle with a different prospect in mind.

Barbara alerted me not to speak with media columnists who might call, which I didn't expect since only two insignificant mentions in local papers linked our names. But Barbara's personal life was news, no matter how trivial. I was tripped up on one occasion and wrote her to explain. While she reassured me no harm was done, I became increasingly attentive to an unsympathetic press. My proudest moments were pushing back. She was a fabulous woman, and I felt no restraint in saying so.

My friendship with Barbara faded into sweet memory after I left the TV station in August 1993.

That is, until spring 2004, when she announced that she was leaving "20/20" for other ventures, including fuller attention to "The View", which was "her baby," and her Barbara Walters Specials. I was conscious that this was a big move, that for almost the entirety of Barbara's life, she had to navigate her public and private worlds on her own.

I felt compelled to write her. We had never communicated through email. While I still had her home address, which she had given me for emergency contact, I wouldn't consider using it. So, I sent my email to her published address @abc.com.

Beyond words of admiration and best wishes, I added: "Every show needs a new lover. Every lover needs a new lover (?)"— a silly remark to lighten the challenge. I didn't expect a response, but, for myself, I needed to tell her I still cared.

Her email reply, dated 01 March 2004, read:

Monica sent me your wonderful e mail. It was so thoughtful and kind of you.

Yes, it is a big step, but it will give me time to do stories I really want to do and not just murders and movie stars. I really look forward to this new time and freedom.

Jackie, by the way, is married and owns and runs an outdoor therapy program for adolescent girls in crisis ... It has been very successful and she has turned out to be a wonderful and caring businesswoman. Who would have thought?

So all is well. It is a good time in my life and your letter just adds to my pleasure.

Warmest Wishes, Barbara

I acknowledged her email but never wrote again, content and grateful to have connected, to have been remembered. In that high crest of Barbara's life, I had been a tiny candle boosting her lift.

Editor’s note: Barbara Walters died in December, 2022 at the age of 93.

Joella Werlin For 15 years (1978-1993) Joella Werlin was Public Affairs Director for the ABC-TV affiliate in Portland, Oregon. Her broadcast experience led to Familore, her professional service as a “personal historian,” recording and preserving life stories. Now retired, Joella’s research and writing focuses on the family story behind the publication in 1623 of the plays of "Mr. William Shakespeare," known as the “First Folio.” Read More