Moses Znaimer once made me cry.
It was 1999, and I was an intern, a part-time videographer, and a chyron operator for MuchMusic’s Electric Circus.
Throughout the building, there were whispers of Moses Znaimer’s power and ability to make or break a career. All I can talk about are my personal experiences. He was frightening but fair. When Denise Donlon, then the station’s vice-president and general manager, asked me to make an audition reel for a VJ position, I said no. I was shy and had never dreamed of being on television. (In elementary school, I once gave a speech during which I looked at the ceiling the whole time because I was so afraid to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Yes, I was a Charlie Brown character.)
The third time Donlon asked me and I said no, she kindly reminded me that she was my boss and that I shouldn’t say no to her. She saw something in me that I had never seen. But Znaimer had final approval. The first time I went into his office, I came out in tears. He’d asked why Denise had wasted his time. I laugh now when I remember that first meeting. He was a hundred percent correct. My audition tape was awful. I was nervous and didn’t make eye contact with the camera. There was no connection. But before I left, Znaimer asked me to do another tape. He said I could do better. After another two tapes, he gave his approval, and my life changed in ways I couldn’t even have imagined. Shortly before I got my part-time job doing chyron for Electric Circus, I’d almost become homeless. Years later, I would be hosting the show.
Two years ago, Citytv turned 50. This past summer, MuchMusic (now Much) turned 40. As CP24 leaves its iconic 299 Queen Street West address to head to Scarborough, why aren’t we talking more about the broadcasting innovations that Znaimer gave to Canada and to the world?
Decades before people could go online and share their opinions on Youtube or social media, there was Speakers Corner. Anyone could head down to the booth at Queen and John streets and give their thoughts, rant, or even launch a musical career — as the Barenaked Ladies did in 1991, when they sang “Be My Yoko Ono.”
In another lifetime, MuchMusic opened its windows so that the public could be close to their favourite celebrities and fans could interact directly with them. This was called the “environment,” a fishbowl of sorts. The VJs would shoot their on-cameras throughout the MuchMusic work space, which was surrounded by large windows. So even if you weren’t on camera, fans could come up to the windows and peer inside to see what was happening. If you were eating your lunch at the table or having a meeting at your desk, the viewers on the sidewalk could see. Nothing was off-limits. And when artists or celebrities came in, the windows would open up, physically removing the barrier between the inside and outside. It wasn’t unusual for fans to line up for days or even to sleep on the sidewalks in anticipation of a glimpse of their favourite artist. All this was before social media. From the very beginning, Znaimer wanted to democratize media, make it accessible to the viewers. He recognized decades ago that in order for media to matter, it had to make space at the table for the viewers. The viewers needed to feel invested in what was on their screens.
It’s hard to find anyone who grew up or lived in Toronto who didn’t recognize Mark Dailey’s voice when he declared, “This is CityTV, everywhere.” There was excitement when you heard him say the name of your neighbourhood. You were proud of being not just from your neighbourhood, but also from Toronto.
Way back before diversity was a buzzword, Znaimer’s Citytv had reporters and anchors on television screens in the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s who looked like the people who lived in Toronto. It wasn’t diversity. It wasn’t inclusion. It just was.
“What people first noticed about Citytv was the diversity, long before it was cool, long before it was mandated and forced. City did it because it was the right thing to do,” Znaimer said in an interview celebrating the station’s 50th. Born in Tajikistan in 1942, he lived briefly in a displaced-persons camp in Germany after the war; he and his family immigrated to Canada in 1948. He says that his lived experience as a refugee and the safe haven he found in Toronto helped shape his ideas on “why all those differences deserved a place on TV.”
It’s no secret that local news in Canada is dying. According to the Globe and Mail, “since 2008, 40 daily newspapers, 400 community newspapers, 42 radio stations and 11 television stations have disappeared in Canada.”
Decades ago, Znaimer realized the importance of local news and worked to nurture and to amplify local stories. Before Citytv, local broadcast news was an extension of national news.
“Local news used to be a 10-minute add-on to the national newscast,” he told Citytv reporter Stella Acquisto. “All of Toronto, that population, that diversity, the place where the business is created, the place the culture is created, was getting 10 minutes at the end of a national newscast. A city needed recognition, and this city in particular needed recognition.”
If ever there were a time to reconsider the role that local news plays in our democracy, it is now.
When Steve Paikin interviewed Bill Davis, who founded TVO, the former premier used to joke that if it hadn’t been for him, Steve wouldn’t have a career. I feel the same about Znaimer. He didn’t just make me cry — he saw something in me that I didn’t see and put me on television as a VJ. He didn’t want me to change my name or hair to conform with how everyone else on television at the time looked.
A few weeks ago, I was asked to be the guest at the 1834 Fellowship.
“Do you know who Moses Znaimer is?” I asked the room. I had been invited to give a fireside chat to a group of young people working in policy, journalism, and government. Only one or two of the attendees nodded in agreement.
I hope more people will now know who is. Canadian broadcasting wouldn’t be where it is without Znaimer, and he left his mark on many other media organizations around the world.
Shows like RapCity and FashionTelevision and stations like Space and MuchMoreMusic captured the imagination of music and culture fans around the world. Once, when I was working in the music library, I came across a tape of Bob Marley’s funeral. Citytv had travelled to Jamaica to cover his funeral. I can’t even begin to describe how deep the archive in that building was. If you’ve ever watched NBC morning television live on the plaza or seen broadcast studios with all windows or any breakfast-television show, you’ve seen some evidence of Znaimer’s influence. I could go on and on. Moses Znaimer built that foundation. We should all be proud that a Canadian did that.
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