Dead Air

Fear seems a kind of constant companion to the staffers at WHYY. That so many people I called for this article either requested anonymity or declined to speak at all came as a surprise. WHYY uses public funds to practice journalism. But the goings-on are far from transparent.

Much of the fear I encountered was no doubt residue from Heller’s column. And the publicity department clearly operates out of a desire to bolster WHYY’s reputation. But the letter that the probably small group of unnamed employees sent to the media accuses Marrazzo of alienating staff, fostering a bullying atmosphere, and lording his status, to the extent of creating an executive parking area that “elderly women volunteers” aren’t allowed to use even when spaces are available and they won’t be exiting the building until 11 p.m.

My own experience with ’HYY was often troubling. Along the way, the company’s publicity flacks called my editor to talk when they didn’t like the questions I was asking; the director of marketing creepily recited for me a long list of all the people she knew I had called; and two ’HYY publicists took notes during the majority of my interviews with ’HYY staff. I was also informed in an e-mail that WHYY could potentially find, fire and even prosecute the person responsible for faxing me a not-so-sensitive financial document — a budget sheet, essentially — that didn’t even warrant inclusion in this story.

Marrazzo himself seemed confident. As I sat across from him, accompanied by two company publicists, I asked if he was frustrated that the media hasn’t written about what he considers his greatest achievements. “I’m going to do my darnedest to make sure you understand who you’re talking to,” he replied, going on to say that the conversation we were having, in the company of his publicists, was recognition enough for him. He glowered momentarily, his usual smile going black. “That’s all the recognition I need. And if you’re beginning to think this sounds more like a missionary job, it is.”

These were strange words to hear in the midst of an interview about a public broadcasting company, but what struck me about them in the moment was how unappreciated and belittled Marrazzo may feel in the face of the controversy — a human being reduced to a number, The $430,786 Man. He denies suffering any personal upset, but his statement — that he would make me understand who he was — seemed to contain within it not just a declaration, but a plea to be seen in his entirety, if only for a few moments in his office.


THE PARTY is being held in an Old City high-rise condo with a lovely view. The occasion is a welcoming party for Bill Brown, Citibank’s new local marketing president. The guest list includes local luminaries of the sort that glow brightly at parties such as these without claiming any real celebrity, among them John P. Claypool, of the American Institute of Architects, and Ernest E. Jones, of the Philadelphia Workforce Development Corporation.