Gordon Brooks, 42, president and CEO of Breakaway Solutions Inc., a Boston-based consulting firm that provides e-business services to small and midsize companies, has been on CNBC twice since his company went public last fall, including the day that Breakaway's shares started trading -- going from 14 to 42. Afterward, on the way to a Boston bar to celebrate the IPO with his company's employees, Brooks was stopped by two guys on the street. "We just saw you on CNBC," one of them said. "It sounds like you have a great company."
The second time was last winter, to report Breakaway's earnings. The way that Brooks got on Power Lunch (a two-hour midday business-magazine show hosted single-handedly by Bill Griffeth) indicates how eager company leaders are to appear on the network and how much the experience has become the corporate equivalent of being let into a hot nightclub. "I called Karima Greene, one of the bookers for Power Lunch," recalls Joanna Bolles, 25, PR director for Breakaway. "I just called her up; it's a special kind of pitch. I had two seconds.
"I said, 'Joanna Bolles, Breakaway Solutions,'" Bolles continues. "She types in our symbol, BWAY, looks at our chart and our information, and says, 'What's the news?' I say, 'Aside from our stock price, we've got earnings next week.' She says, 'I'll call you back in a week.' And when she did, all she said was 'You're on.'"
During that second appearance, Brooks had to correct a misinterpretation of Breakaway's earnings: CNBC was reporting that the company had missed its earnings estimate -- when, in fact, it hadn't. "While I was on the air," says Brooks, "the company's stock price started going up. And five minutes after my appearance, the price was up $6."
Here's the most amazing thing about CNBC: No one is in charge. Oh sure, there are plenty of producers and directors. But no one knows ahead of time what's going to come out of Maria Bartiromo's mouth. If everyone is lucky, she's got her mike on and her earpiece in before the show goes live and before Bartiromo starts firing off nuggets of business information -- upgrades, downgrades, new target prices, conferences, research reports -- as if she were a veteran waitress delivering orders to a fry cook at a diner.
Faber and Kernen may have the relaxed, zingy patter of Dan Rydell and Casey McCall on Sports Night, but they don't have Aaron Sorkin writing it for them. During their morning tag teams on CNBC, not only is there no script, no TelePrompTer, and no list of possible topics, but Faber and Kernen also don't usually talk about what they're going to talk about before they start talking about it.
Power Lunch host Bill Griffeth interviews somewhere between two and four CEOs every single day. His show is now so potent and desirable a platform for business-people that Power Lunch producer Ramona Schindelheim, 43, will only consider having CEOs or chairmen as guests. And although Griffeth does plenty of advance preparation for each show, not a single question is written beforehand.
Yet, the information flow is so steady, so smooth, so consistent, that it can seem as if CNBC is nothing but a conduit with personalities, as if the whole operation could somehow be automated.
CNBC's style and its mission are a study in contradictions: In a world of speed-addicted companies and markets, CNBC wants to be faster with information than anyone. That style is perfectly captured by the real-time ticker that runs throughout its broadcast day -- even during commercials. CNBC's mission, however, is to provide wise counsel for long-term individual investors. The larger irony is that CNBC couldn't be nearly as good at being breathless and spontaneously smart if it weren't relying on the seasoned judgment of the people who produce and anchor its programs.
The network accomplishes its commitment to speed only because of the slow accretion of experience and knowledge that it brings to its "information" positions. Haines is a lawyer who has been following the markets for 40 years. Bartiromo, Faber, Griffeth, Herera, Insana, and Kernen each has more than 10 years of experience either covering the markets or working in them. And every day, given the network's improvisational style, CNBC depends on the experience of these people -- not just on their access to information but on their judgment as well.
The tension between CNBC's play-by-play style and its cerebral soul goes all the way through senior management and doesn't seem crafted for public consumption. Ask the senior newsroom boss, Bruno Cohen, what he would do if he had no budgetary constraints, and he answers immediately: "If money were no object, I'd hire the best analysts from banks and brokerages and put them on the air. I'd like CNBC to be less a platform for the opinions of people with financial interests in the companies that they talk about and more a source of independent analysis."