Tuesday, October 2, 2001 – Page R1

ISLAMABAD -- The storm blew in from the Margalla Hills with no warning, bringing sheets of rain and powerful winds that threatened to blow millions of dollars in equipment off the roof of the Islamabad Marriott, ground zero for the mother of all TV wars.

"Quick, save the satellite dishes," screamed one technician, one of dozens running up to the roof of the hotel and trying to hold down tripods and tents, satellite dishes and even the odd news anchor who might be straying too near to the edge of the hotel roof.

But it was too late by then.

"They are now fetching their things from the swimming pool, sir," said a bellman of the Marriott, who was clearly bemused at the sight of rain-drenched news anchors scrambling to the roof, to keep the tents they stand under from being blown somewhere into Afghanistan. "I don't think they are very happy people, sir."

Indeed, the world's big networks -- along with the lesser creatures in print and radio -- are getting increasingly frustrated in their hugely expensive Islamabad stakeout. That freak storm is about the only action they've seen so far in the Pakistani capital, where about 1,000 journalists have descended in anticipation of the U.S. attack on Afghanistan -- so many that the joke is that the dateline on stories should read "Journalistan." Each day of waiting for what the TV folk call the "boom, boom" is adding hundreds of thousands of dollars in costs. In one week alone, ABC News is said to have footed a $50,000 (U.S.) hotel bill at the Marriott.

With each day, the costs for the press of being in Islamabad soar higher. The Marriott's hotel rooms have doubled in price, to about $300 (U.S.) a night. Taxis that used to cost $1 a ride are now $4. Some translators are said to have been paid as much as $1,000 (U.S.) a day by some networks.

"We're very happy to have the world's press in Islamabad," said Mohammad, a local fixer. "In one day I can make a month's salary."

"There's no question we thought the U.S. would attack faster than this," said one CNN employee. "This is costing a fortune to sit and wait. The suits in Atlanta are worried about the profit margins. But there's no question this has been good for our ratings. We're still at the top of the game."

In fact, it's now clear that big wars -- even the kind where the enemy can't really be seen -- are good news for the Atlanta-based Cable News Network.

Before the attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, CNN seemed to be losing its preeminence as the world's global news broadcaster. Ratings were dipping, with CNN's attracting only 323,000 a day on average. And Rupert Murdoch's Fox News, with its gossipy, news-lite format, was gaining fast, with about 289,000 viewers a day. As well, the BBC satellite news network, which is not a major station in North America, has been growing internationally, seen by many as less American-centric than CNN.

But there's not much of a race now. Since the Sept. 11 terrorist attack on New York, CNN has seen its ratings soar by more than 800 per cent, to a shade under three million viewers a day. Newcomer Fox has gone up 478 per cent, to about 1.7 million.

It's history repeating itself: It was during the 1991 Persian Gulf War that Ted Turner's struggling network proved that when Americans rally for war they want a 24-hour satellite news channel, not just the supper news from the big three American networks.

Part of CNN's success is that it realizes that when it comes to covering wars, it's not just good journalism that pulls an audience. It is star power. Which is why their Diva of Disaster, Christiane Amanpour, has been gliding through the halls of the Marriott in recent days.

From the day she arrived, Amanpour has lived up to her reputation as star war correspondent.

In her first news conference, from the lawn outside the Taliban embassy, she showed up in a dry-cleaned war jacket, penny loafers and what looked like a new pair of Gucci sunglasses. (That set her apart from another network anchor, who dressed for her first day of war correspondence in an outfit she could have picked up on New York's Fifth Avenue. Her producers told her to dress down in khaki for the next satellite feed.)

Amanpour lost no time letting the media pack know that she intended to be the alpha dog. Growing frustrated when the men in turbans at the Taliban embassy ignored a question of hers, she began shouting at the top of her lungs. "Who's making the final decision, who's making the final decision?" she literally screamed, as she tried to get an answer about who in Afghanistan would decide whether on not to release accused terrorist Osama bin Laden.

"Oh, so impolite, so impolite," tut-tutted a Lebanese journalist. "She will get nothing with this approach."

In fact, she did get her answer. It would be Afghanistan's mullah-in-chief, Mohammed Omar, who would make the decision.

From the start, Amanpour was airlifted into Islamabad to go head to head with the BBC and the American networks for the "Big Get," the first interview with Pakistan's leader, General Pervez Musharraf.

"When Christiane comes to an event, she's going for the ratings grabber, the interview that shows that CNN still gets the big fish before anyone else can get the hook in the water," said the CNN producer. "It's a lot of pressure. She's the closer. So she's aggressive, but that's what it takes to get to the top of CNN."

The manoeuvring between the BBC and CNN went on behind the scenes for days. And for days, Amanpour seemed to grow increasingly irritated as she moved from her room to the roof of the Marriott, where she broadcast live to the world but got to see almost nothing of Pakistan.

"It's just too loud, it's just too loud," Amanpour complained one morning, as she sat in the hotel's restaurant, where the TV was turned to the BBC. "Do you mind if I turn it down?" She got up and turned it off, while the rest of the journalists in the room watched wonderingly.

But her mood seemed to lighten soon after that. She had gotten the "Get," beating out the BBC for the first interview with the General. CNN trumpeted its exclusive. Every journalist in Islamabad watched the TV and took notes.

And a CNN gopher booked Amanpour a ticket out of Islamabad for London, business class.