Sound and fury
Howie Carr's claim that he has off-the-air tapes of former radio colleague
Marjorie Clapprood heats up a bitter rivalry
Put on your work boots and hard hat, because there's muck and falling debris
ahead. One of the nastiest and most bitter public rivalries in Massachusetts
will be played out in the fight to succeed Joe Kennedy in Congress. This
particular battle, though, has little to do with politics and everything to do
with jealousy, paranoia, and a heaping helping of personal animosity.
In one corner: Howie Carr, Boston Herald columnist and bad-boy
talk-show host at WRKO Radio (AM 680). In the other: Marjorie Clapp-rood, who's
seeking to resume her political career by running for Kennedy's seat following
her own six-year stint on WRKO, where she frequently tangled with Carr both on
the air and off.
So far, Carr is the only one who's fighting. Clapprood, who's reluctant to
talk about her past dealings with Carr, makes it clear that the last thing she
wants is to provoke a public pissing match with someone who writes the
Herald's most popular column and hosts 'RKO's highest-rated program.
But given Carr's performance to date, Clapprood may have no choice. Indeed,
Carr has already injected a Watergate/Fornigate twist into the proceedings by
claiming to have a tape of some of Clapprood's gamier off-the-air comments. If
he's telling the truth, his possession of such material raises potentially
serious legal and ethical questions. Yet Carr, given a chance to let himself
off the hook, declined to tell the Phoenix the circumstances under which
he obtained the tapes.
Carr fired his first shot on March 15, two days after Kennedy announced that
he wouldn't run for Congress again. "Memo to wrinkly old Marjorie Clapprood: Go
ahead, make my day," Carr wrote after Clapprood said she would probably run.
But what started tongues wagging was Carr's March 27 column, in which he
suggested that he had memorialized some of Clapprood's more embarrassing
moments at WRKO. "Personally, I know one of the candidates better than the
others," Carr wrote. "I've rolled more tape on her than Linda Tripp did on
Monica Lewinsky. Right now it's all sitting there. In case of fire, break
glass."
Now, of course, anything Clapprood said on the air would be fair game -- and
given her frequent jokes about breasts, menstruation, and defecation, there
would presumably be no shortage of material. But Carr upped the ante
considerably when he included this passage, directed at Clapprood's rival
candidate (and former state rep) Sue Tracy: "So, Sue, do I have an audiotape
for you. You won't believe what one of your opponents, who shall remain
nameless, said off-air about the sexual preferences of female members of the
armed forces." (Insinuating but not quite saying that Tracy is a lesbian is a
classic Carr technique. Tracy got the message: she came out last Thursday in a
sympathetic column by the Herald's Peter Gelzinis.)
"If any of the candidates would like an audiotape bomb, you know where to
reach me," Carr concluded. "Just remember, you didn't see me, and I didn't see
you."
This isn't the first time Carr has tortured his victims with embarrassing
tapes. Several years ago, Carr obtained a copy of then-city councilor David
Scondras's slurred, semicoherent late-night call to the Boston Police and
played it over and over -- thus contributing to Scondras's loss at the hands of
Tom Keane, who is now one of Clapprood's rivals for the congressional seat.
But though Carr's sophomoric reveling over a low point in Scondras's life was
repulsive, at least there was no question that the tape was a public document.
That's certainly not the case with the alleged off-air tape of Clapprood. In
Massachusetts, it's illegal to tape a conversation unless both parties consent.
If Carr or someone acting at his behest recorded things that Clapprood said
during commercial breaks, for example, or while taping an ad, then he could
find himself in legal difficulty.
Neither Carr nor WRKO program director Kevin Straley would shed any light on
the matter when contacted by the Phoenix. Straley said he hadn't seen
the Carr column, but added that it is against company policy to tape employees
off-air without their being aware of it. Clearly the last thing Straley needs
is a legal hassle. American Radio Systems, WRKO's owner, is in the process of
being sold to CBS, which in turn has promised to sell 'RKO and several other
stations to a third party in order to stay within the Federal Communications
Commission's antimonopoly guidelines.
When contacted by the Phoenix, Carr was evasive, declining to comment
about the tapes except to say, "Let's just say they're around." Asked about the
ethical or legal implications, he replied, "It's not something I've given a lot
of thought to." Asked whether he's worried about legal action that might be
taken against him if he uses any such tapes, he responded, "As Ted Kennedy once
said, I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."
If Carr doesn't sound particularly worried, perhaps he has good reason. Though
taping someone without her knowledge is illegal, Clapprood -- if she was
actually taped -- may fall victim to the perception that anyone who works for a
radio station ought to know better than to say something embarrassing, either
on or off the air. "If you are a talk-show host sitting in a studio, surrounded
by taping equipment and sound equipment, then the circumstances might not fit
neatly within the two-party-consent law," says Ed Cafasso, spokesman for
Attorney General Scott Harshbarger. "It could be argued that there's a
different level of awareness for someone who makes their living on radio."
Michael Harrison, editor of the talk-radio magazine Talkers, and Donna
Halper, a Boston-based radio consultant, say that although it would clearly be
unethical to tape a radio personality secretly when that person was not on the
air, experienced announcers are smart enough to watch their mouths at all
times. David Brudnoy, a talk-show host for WBZ Radio (AM 1030), offers this
informal industry rule: "Don't say anything anywhere near a microphone that's
really stupid."
The Clapprood-Carr feud goes back to 1991, when Clapprood, a former Democratic
state representative from Sharon who had just lost a campaign for lieutenant
governor, joined WRKO as its morning cohost. Clapprood, who had cultivated a
glamorous, outspoken image in politics, quickly established herself as a star,
and was soon earning big bucks and appearing on her own national show on the
cable TV network Lifetime. Carr, though already renowned locally for his snide
but knowing political columns in the Herald and Boston magazine
and for his occasional local TV gigs, was struggling to establish himself as a
talk host.
Clapprood and Carr were never particularly enamored of each other, and a real
rift developed in 1993, when Carr was fired from WRKO under murky
circumstances. Carr refuses to discuss his relationship with Clapprood, but
friends say he believes she may have had a hand in his departure. Soon
thereafter, Carr returned to the air, first on WRKO's sister station, WHDH (now
WEEI, an all-sports station), and later back on WRKO -- taking the afternoon
drive-time shift of his mentor, the legendary Jerry Williams, with whom he'd
had a falling-out. Carr began making fun of Clapprood on the air, which hardly
made management happy. Indeed, sources say Carr battled with his own producer
for refusing to let anti-Clapprood callers get through. And there are rumors
that Carr was disciplined by station officials, although Carr himself says it
was more along the lines of being told not to do it again.
Carr's friends say he was especially piqued at Clapprood's alleged habit of
parking in a handicapped space near WRKO -- and once even suggested that he
have the Herald run a photo, an idea that was strongly discouraged by
station management. Meanwhile, Clapprood's ratings began drifting south (she
was let go last year), and sources say Carr complained that she was hurting his
ratings because commuters were getting out of the habit of tuning to WRKO.
"That bitch is killing me," a friend recalls Carr as saying.
Program director Straley -- wisely -- declines to get in the middle of this
one, refusing to comment on whether Carr was ever disciplined or whether
Clapprood was known to park in a handicapped space.
As for Clapprood, she is clearly uncomfortable discussing Carr, but denies any
impropriety on her part. On whether she helped get him fired, or bragged to
anyone that she did: "I would love to take credit for that, but unfortunately I
was never that powerful." On the handicapped-parking space: "Gee, I don't know
about Howie, but I had a company-paid parking spot, so there would never be any
need for me to park anywhere but there." On her relationship with Carr: "There
is none. My only fear in this campaign is that some morning I'm going to be
having my coffee, feeling really good about myself, and I'm going to pick up
the Boston Herald and find to my horror that Howie Carr has endorsed me.
Imagine me trying to explain that to the Eighth District."
But Clapprood turns more serious when asked about the tapes, and whether she's
worried about what might be on them. "I've got no reason to believe that any
hosts at WRKO had to worry about anything they said ever being recorded by
anyone," she says. "I was always assured that that was not only improper but
illegal. And frankly, I can't believe that WRKO would jeopardize their license
by letting that happen to any employee."
In the end, the tapes may prove to be nothing more than a prank conjured up by
Carr to get under Clapprood's skin. If he really had illegal tapes, it would be
far better for him if copies simply appeared in brown paper bags on the
doorsteps of one or more of Clapprood's fellow candidates.
After all, the essence of the well-turned political dirty trick is not to get
caught. Carr has already precluded that option.
Articles from July 24, 1997 & before can be accessed here