Connie Chung’s career began with a bold move: “I barged into a local TV station and said, ‘I can learn. I don’t have experience, but I can do this job.’ … When you’re young and don’t know any better, you just plow forward like you know what you’re doing.”
As she recounts in her new memoir, Connie (to be published Tuesday), hard work and determination were key.
Now at home in Montana with her husband of nearly 40 years, daytime TV legend Maury Povich, she can reflect on her four-decade career with satisfaction.
Povich recalls a pivotal moment early in Chung’s career: “She wanted a job, and the news director said, ‘No, no, no, you’re my assistant.’ But she insisted, ‘No, I want that job, weekend writer on the news desk.’ And when he said she had to replace herself, she walked out of the newsroom, across the street to a bank, and asked a woman teller if she wanted to work in TV. That woman became the new secretary, and Connie got the job.”
Soon, CBS News took notice when she marched into a restaurant cited for health violations, camera crew in tow. “Lo and behold, the CBS bureau chief was there having lunch. He gave me his card and said, ‘Call me.'”
In 1971, Chung joined CBS News’ Washington bureau, surrounded by men. “It was a sea of men, and I decided to fit in by adopting their bravado. I walked into rooms like I owned them.”
WHITE HOUSE PHOTO, COURTESY NIXON PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY AND MUSEUM
Her approach wasn’t just bold; it was brash. “I became known for saying shocking things to men who were sexist and racist. They were stunned, but it was how I survived in that snake pit. Though, looking back, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Chung’s rise continued at NBC, where she asked for more responsibilities: “I’ll do the pre-‘Today Show’ half-hour, but I also want to cover political stories for ‘Nightly News,’ and ‘Saturday Night News,’ plus the ‘Newsbreaks’ at 9 and 10 p.m. It was exhausting, but I wanted it all.”
She reflected on how her American upbringing and Chinese heritage shaped her. “Ambition, drive, and focus? Definitely. That drive to succeed was a combo platter of being American and Chinese.”
In the competitive world of network news, landing exclusive interviews was the holy grail. In 1991, after Magic Johnson revealed his HIV diagnosis, Chung camped out at his agent’s office until she secured the interview. She also snagged the first interview with the captain of the Exxon Valdez after the devastating oil spill.
But not all headlines were positive. Stories like the Tonya Harding scandal and sensational documentaries like “Life in the Fat Lane” earned ratings but tarnished her reputation. “I just didn’t have the power to say no,” she admits. “And I so regret that.”
As the youngest of five sisters, the only one born in America, Chung was raised by traditional Chinese immigrant parents. Her father decided she would be the son he never had and carry on the family name. She exceeded his expectations and fulfilled her own dream by joining Dan Rather as co-anchor on CBS Evening News in 1993. However, the partnership didn’t last. After two years, she was fired. “I was crushed,” Chung admits.
But just days later, after years of miscarriages and infertility treatments, her joy returned when she and Povich adopted their son, Matthew. “He was less than a day old. He never left my arm, and to this day, he’s the most wonderful grown man.”
At 49, Chung almost had it all, but she admits, “I could never declare success. Being born Chinese, I was born humble. It was never enough.”
It took the “Connie Generation” for her to realize her impact. Last year, The New York Times published a story about Chinese, Korean, and Japanese parents naming their daughters after her. “I couldn’t believe it. It was the most exhilarating day I could ever imagine.”
“What did you mean to their parents?” she was asked.
“Work hard, be brave, and take risks,” she said. “I wasn’t the smartest or the toughest, but I did those three things.”
