So that's it then.
Eddie has abdicated his reign as Chief Executive of The Nine Network, Lord Protector of Her Majesty's Territories, Warden of the Cinque Ports, Master of the Universe, etc.
Gosh, couldn't see that coming. Much.
The whole affair was ridiculous on so many levels it beggars credibility.
What makes McGuire's 17-month tenure remarkable is not that he ascended to the pinnacle of what was at least once the most powerful media company in the land, but that someone in power within the Packer empire actually thought it would be a good idea to put him there. Not because he's no good at being CEO - but more of that later.
Now, don't get me wrong. Eddie is a remarkable individual. He is the best television front man bar none since Bert Newton in the 60s, 70s and 80s. His knowledge of sport is extensive, and of AFL football, phenomenal. He affects a blokey, matey, knockabout, everyman, easygoing charm toward everyone he meets: the contestants he churns through on his quiz shows, the guests he interviews, the journalists that report on him. He is a skilled MC of live events. As a journalist, he worked his contacts relentlessly to regularly break fresh stories. He ably steered a radio program packed with strong personalities. His achievements for someone in only his early forties are astounding.
But here's the rub - none of that makes him a chief executive. Not of a national television network where mistakes are measured in tens of millions of dollars. And certainly not of one that has been stripped in recent years of skilled board governance, corporate knowledge and memory, television expertise, production resources, employees, and, crucially, morale.
For all Ed's confident bluster, Nine is struggling.
Nationally, Nine scraped home in the 2006 ratings by 0.1%, measured over the year. So far this year it has lost all twelve weekly surveys. Revenue is down. The production slate is lean. As one media analyst remarked, "Nine's got CSI, and not much else."
A successful TV network depends on an endless cycle of specific outputs: popular programs, which attract viewers, who translate to high ratings, which attract advertisers, who buy airtime using money that buys the network a new set of popular programs. Eddie undoubtedly knows how to put a program together. But the sales side of the business - almost always the source of the hardheads who make the strategic business decisions and actually run the dream factories - was largely unknown to him. Would Network Ten make Rove their CEO? Would Seven, Kochie? At least he'd have a grasp of the financials.
McGuire admitted at his farewell media conference that what he called the necessary 'financial engineering' of the business was beyond his capabilities or interest. Why should we be surprised? He claimed the job of CEO had changed almost the moment he accepted it. To the extent that the place was being more closely overseen than ever before by PBL executives - real executives - that's true.
But on another level, it isn't. He simply hadn't realised what the job demanded. The job of television CEO has never been about direct involvement in creative pursuits. In successful networks, it has always been about the bottom line. About allowing the creatives to produce, reaping the financial rewards of that endeavour, and managing prudently to ensure the process can be self-perpetuating. Since the recession of the early 1990s, as in many businesses, strict financial management has become more the focus of management than ever before. The grumble from staff is that, "the accountants are running the place."
It seems only Eddie, in a lather of his trademark hubris, actually thought he was being made CEO because of his talent and suitability for the job. It is simply inconceivable that those with the power to make the appointment actually saw Eddie, popular TV host, as Eddie, network corporate saviour. Show me any other company, let alone one of comparable revenues, where the Chief Executive is suddenly transplanted from the shop floor, without even the most basic experience or qualifications in marketing, human resources, finance, or business management.
Much was made of Eddie's parallel appointment at the helm of the Collingwood football club, usually in terms of reproach for the alleged inherent conflict of interests. That aside, remember, however, that there he is the President, not the CEO. No tiresome day-to-day actual running of the business. Just a matter of using your own weekly TV show to promote your club, harvesting the resultant benefits, and beating your chest in the occasional difference of opinion with football's other super-egos - the AFL.
It all makes me think the real plan was to have Ed out there simply to wave the Nine flag, charm the ad agencies and their big-spending clients, cheerlead and generally talk the joint up, as only Ed can. He was to be the face of Nine, just not on the screen. The real decision making would be done by the PBL heavies in Park St.
That's what made the former CEO, David Gyngell, pull the pin: interference from PBL boss John Alexander in the running of the television business. But Gyngell had it easy. These days there are a clutch of PBL executives - none of them with any TV experience, interestingly - trying to run Nine.
Eddie has had the unusual experience, for him, of facing the blame and having to take responsibility for the limp performance of Nine over the past year and a half. Hamfisted, boofhead banter about 'boning' female presenters hasn't helped him. But Nine was well on the skids before Eddie took the reins. It's a measure of the network's desperation, its paucity of ideas, and the sheer cackhanded dopeyness that now passes for management at the once-great network that Ed's appointment as boss was even afforded passing consideration. It speaks volumes, too, for just how highly Nine values the job that Ed filled, that they are not bothering to replace him. What a vital cog in the mighty Nine machine he must have been.
Wisely, he'll go back to being the front man, the showman, whilst being allowed to retain some token management duties, just to spare him the public humiliation of being ushered off the executive floor with indecent haste.
Commercial television management has always been an unsophisticated process, where the use of blunt instruments and even blunter language is commonplace. And Nine was Bearpit Central for 30 years or more. But Nine stayed on top because the people running the place were smart enough to stick to what they knew - keeping the money flowing - and allow others to do the job of pumping out the product. Incidentally, they're the ones now mostly running Seven.
That's the thing about TV. It's not a science, so no one is actually ruled out of any role on the basis of their qualifications, or lack of them. If you make a success of your job, you're qualified. Now a severely chastened Eddie knows that, too.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
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