Wx Watch: And Now, the Weather

They may not spout terminal forecasts, freezing levels, or sigmets, but the weather people at your local standard-broadcast television station still attract a very large following among pilots. Many pilots use locally televised weather reports as supplemental briefing information for local flights or take advantage of the 6 a.m. or 11 p.m. news' weather segment to see the latest synoptic conditions.

In the November 1992 issue of AOPA Pilot, we took a look at the weather broadcasting of The Weather Channel (TWC) and A.M. Weather. Now it's time to focus on the TV weather folks based closer to your neighborhood.

There are great similarities, as well as great differences, between local weather broadcasters and those serving at TWC and A.M. Weather. Like the people working at TWC and A.M. Weather, local weather broadcasters make generous use of highly informative graphics. Most have access to a local National Weather Service radar; some even have Doppler radars of their own; and others use powerful software that can crunch all sorts of weather data at blinding speed. With a few keystrokes, this kind of software can create maps comparing temperature differences from day to day, display rainfall amounts, and be applied to hundreds of other informational tasks.

You'll also see GOES satellite imagery in motion, as well as surface maps that show highs, lows, and fronts traveling in their forecast directions.

Unlike TWC and A.M. Weather, local TV weather broadcasters dwell almost entirely on the conditions affecting a relatively small area. And they have to do their reports in short segments — a far cry from TWC's 24- hour coverage or A.M. Weather's quarter-hour.

As for aviation weather, it's virtually nonexistent — quite a contrast with A.M. Weather, which devotes a substantial amount of its 15-minute allotment to pilot concerns.

Nevertheless, local TV weather broadcasts do provide benefits to pilot-viewers. Their use of local radars, for example, can give precise warnings of approaching thunderstorms. Local weathermen also tend to be very familiar with nearby weather idiosyncrasies, which often makes their predictions of quirky regional weather phenomena (fogs, freezing rain, and other volatile situations) more accurate than those of the NWS.

Because the NWS's surface analysis charts (issued every three hours) and public forecasts are dated by the time they're received and frequently arrive too soon — or too late — to be valuable to a broadcast just a few minutes away, many local weather broadcasters do their own analyses and forecasts. They certainly rely on the NWS's basic data, but they make their own charts and call their own shots.

This is made possible by the growing professionalism of all of today's weather broadcasters. Like the on-camera staffs of TWC and A.M. Weather, many local weather broadcasters are experienced meteorologists.

It wasn't always that way. In the 1950s, locally televised weather reports favored entertainment over information. There were new heights in cornball humor and precious little in the way of real science.

By 1959, things took a change for the better. Out of concern for deteriorating standards among TV and radio weather broadcasters, the American Meteorological Society (AMS) established a voluntary certification program. To earn its seal of approval, TV and radio weathermen and -women had to have a bachelor's degree in atmospheric science, five years of experience as a meteorologist, and submit samples of their on-camera work. In 1972, the AMS relaxed its standards, realizing that many non-meteorologist broadcasters strove very hard to provide accurate, professional reports. For this group, the AMS requires three years of weathercasting experience and a passing grade on a written examination.

Another, less demanding certifying body — the National Weather Association (NWA) — began in 1976. For an NWA seal of approval, there is no degree requirement and no written test. Instead, applicants submit videotapes of their weather segments.

Together with these seals of approval, today's abundance of satellite data and computer power ensures the highest quality of local TV weather broadcasting ever. For a first hand view, I visited two television stations in the Washington, D.C., area to observe their weather departments in action.

It's 3:30 p.m., November 20, 1992, at Washington, D.C.'s Channel 4 (WRC- TV), and weatherman Bob Ryan is picking up the pace. In two hours, he'll do a 3-minute 15-second broadcast. An hour after that, he'll be on for 3 minutes 45 seconds. At 5:55 and 6:55, he'll do anywhere from 30 seconds to one minutes' worth of updates.

Ryan is one of the deans of broadcast meteorology, with more than 15 years in the business and a stint on NBC's Today show. He came to WRC in 1980, trading places with Willard Scott, who took Ryan's old job on Today. (Yes, cornball weathercasts are still alive and well. Scott, who has given forecasts dressed as Carmen Miranda and Boy George — among many other getups — is proof that some aspects of the bad old days of TV weathercasting seem to have an enduring entertainment value.)

Last month, the AMS honored Ryan by naming him president of that prestigious organization. This marked the first time a broadcast meteorologist has held the post.

But right now, Ryan is doing yeoman's work. He's scanned various NWS charts from his difax machines, and now he's making his own charts for tonight's shows. To do this, he uses the WSI 7000 system and another hardware/software package called Live Line 5. Soon, he'll have WSI's new 9000 system, one of the most powerful tools to create televised weather graphics.

All this equipment lets Ryan animate fronts and other weather features, integrate satellite imagery with his charts, and apply symbols and shadings for various weather conditions and intensities. He does this by means of a pen-looking device and a glorified computer scratch pad. He moves the pen over the area he's defining, then calls up a menu, selects weather symbols, and presto — a weather map in living color.

A radio is playing in the background. It's tuned to WMZQ. When a Shoney's commercial finishes up, Ryan says, "That's my cue," then rushes to a nearby microphone, dons a set of headphones, and starts doing a weather report and forecast live on the radio. It's a second job for Ryan, who delivers his polished performance with the help of a piece of paper bearing just a few cryptic phrases.

Then it's back to the WSI and Live Line 5. By 4:45, he's saved all the material for his first segment. It starts off with a time-lapse video from the station's rooftop camera, which shows the day's clouds flying by. Then there's a repetitive loop of film from the GOES satellite. Next are two tapes supplied by NBC affiliates. One shows flooding in the Florida panhandle. The other features heavy snowfall in Utah, complete with car crashes. This is followed by a survey of local temperatures, provided mainly by a network of local weather-watchers who telephone in their observations to an answering machine served by an 800 number. Then comes some more still imagery: a U.S. radar map, the night's anticipated low temperatures, and an outlook of the next seven days' weather.

This particular day is not very exciting — a stationary front is to the south, and a weak cold front is to the west. But if there were heavy precipitation or thunderstorms, Ryan would bring more exotic equipment into play. Through the WSI system's Nowrad feature, he can call up near- real-time weather radar imagery from anywhere in the country and put it into motion. He can also draw upon WSI's lightning detection capability. As if this weren't enough, he can call up imagery from the Washington area's nearest NWS Doppler radar in Sterling, Virginia, which is very close to Dulles International Airport.

The hectic pace quickens as air time draws near. A telephone rings, and Ryan picks it up. "More clouds, maybe some rain in two days. Gotta go," he says, then hangs up. It was a call out of the blue, one of many that Ryan and his small staff field each day. They come from individual viewers asking all sorts of weather questions, like if it will rain on an outdoor wedding planned for May.

Ryan is quite willing to accept visitors, and today, one of them is Liore Friedman, a high-school student interviewing him for a term paper. He patiently answers her questions, then sends her off with a brand-new copy of Bob Ryan's 1993 Weather Almanac, a publication he does to benefit D.C.'s Children's Hospital; Kids, Incorporated; and the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. Like most local TV weather broadcasters, Ryan plugs charitable causes relentlessly. It's all part of a tradition of community service to which practically all local TV weather departments subscribe.

I ask Ryan what his biggest challenges are. "Staying abreast of the science," he said, "and keeping up with TV broadcast technology, so I can make my shows more interesting and useful. There's a new software package coming that will allow you to 'fly by' computerized cloud formations and even 'travel' down through breaks in the clouds, and I'm really looking forward to that."

Now the news show has begun, and Ryan dons his wireless microphone, earpiece, and sports coat. "Anyone seen a forecast yet?" Ryan asks his assistants, meaning the NWS version. "Nope," say Mark Hoekzema and Eyad Atallah, his graduate student interns. "Oh, well," Ryan sighs.

In a flash, he's out the door and racing through the station's labyrinthine route to the studio. A few minutes later, after winging another effortless performance, his 5:20 segment is over, and he returns to his offices to add some touches for his next broadcast.

Four blocks away, a similar scene is unfolding at Channel 9, where WUSA- TV's Doug Hill is calmly facing his countdown to air time. Hill uses Kavouras' Triton X computerized weather equipment for his charts, and he, too, has been busy cobbling up all sorts of maps. Like Ryan, Hill has the AMS seal and 15 years in front of cameras. Unlike Ryan, he has the luxury of WUSA's own Doppler radar.

Hill's evening schedule includes an eight- or nine-minute segment delivered at 4 p.m. out on the "weather terrace," an outdoor deck today adorned in a Thanksgiving motif. Part of that segment is weather, the rest a comedic quiz/repartee with WUSA's Stacy Benn, who reports on rush-hour traffic.

Then he does three minutes of weather at 5:15 and six more at 5:53. If Hill has the countdown jitters, it's not showing — even though he's having fits making a certain weather map. It strikes me that both Hill and Ryan spend better than half their time monkeying with computers. It's got to be frustrating when the machines won't cooperate, but the end result sure beats drawing fronts live on camera with a magic marker, as was the norm 40 years ago.

Somehow, he finishes his preparations in time, including a spot for WLTT radio and creating a special map showing field observations from classes at selected local elementary schools. There, designated science classes are fitted out with weather instruments provided by WUSA. The station calls this the "Weather Source Network," and it's similar to Ryan's network of weather-watchers.

Part of Hill's calm can be attributed to a former career as a police officer. "I've seen all kinds of craziness, and no way does this job match some of the stuff you see as a cop," explains Hill. Still, he admits to periods of overload such as when a snowstorm or hurricane is on the way. When I ask him his biggest challenge, Hill simply says, "Getting it all done."

"But you know what I really like?" he asks. "It's when things hit the fan. It's great. The weather is *the* big news, and you're in control while everyone else in the studio is losing their heads. That's the most satisfying aspect of the job. You just do the weather without losing your mind. Sure, you go a little nuts, but when it's all over, you walk out victorious."

Like Ryan's, Hill's broadcasts go off without a hitch, his delivery revealing a laid-back glibness. He never fails to finish up his segments with requests for donations to the Downtown Jaycees' "Dollars for Needy Children" program. When his evening's over, he's a happy man. Once again, he walks out victorious.

I thought of Ryan's promotional spots that ran years ago. "Go With Bob" was the tag line, and it followed a scene in which a pilot and copilot were trying to decide whether they could make it to their destination without running into questionable weather. Over the cockpit radio, flight service was making dark predictions.

Then there's a shot of Ryan predicting good weather. The pilot and copilot look at each other and say, "Let's go with Bob!" and the scene ends with an uneventful landing. Then comes the voiceover: "Go With Bob."

Of course, television weather broadcasters cannot take the place of flight service stations. But as we've seen, local weathermen have a great deal of expertise, are very often seasoned meteorologists, and often are well-endowed with very sophisticated equipment. The briefers at flight service, by way of contrast, are *not* meteorologists. They're trained simply to read you certain of the NWS' aviation reports, provide a modicum of guidance and interpretation, and enter your flight plans into ATC's computer. They won't tell you of a forecast change until they're *told* to tell you of a forecast change.

Television weathermen — and -women — are keen to sense any unforecast changes. If that happens, they're free to report fast-changing conditions or alter their own forecasts. They are, in fact, spring-loaded to go on the air at a moment's notice. This is where their expertise can be of such value to pilots. Local broadcasters have the skills for making up their own forecasts, as well as sharing their opinions and insights on any regional weather changes. Do they go out on a limb? Yes, all the time. Are their hunches sometimes wrong? Yes, but so are the NWS'.

Whatever their aviation shortcomings, local weather broadcasters will always bend a pilot's ear. When it comes to weather briefings, we're information hogs, and we'll listen and watch everything we can. Having been there, I can assure you that people like Ryan and Hill approach their jobs with great professionalism. As pilots, we'd be cheating ourselves if we didn't tune them in — along with TWC and A.M. Weather.

So if he says it'll be sunny, I'll Go With Bob. As for Hill, I particularly admire his tranquility as the seconds tick down to air time. "Oh, map crashed," he deadpans, as his last 15 minutes' worth of work dissolves into the electronic ether. Then he starts making a new one, not wasting a second. He'll be on the air in 20 minutes.