It’s a little after 11 a.m. when Cheryl Hickey enters the studio, all shiny blond hair and thick black eyelashes. Her petite, gracefully slender frame is wrapped in a knee-length, long-sleeved black dress that’s paired with opaque tights. She clicks onto the large, circular stage in black stilettos that are too big for her, she says, and assumes position. Staring into the camera, Hickey pats her long, tousled hair and awaits her cue.

A host on Entertainment Tonight Canada, Hickey is gearing up for another day of work at the show’s Toronto studio. The TelePrompTer rolls as she reads through the day’s headlines, called “links.” On this October morning, they include interviews with Orlando Bloom and Milla Jovovich for The Three Musketeers, Sandra Oh being inducted into Canada’s Walk of Fame, and, of course, the juice: the trial of Shania Twain’s stalker.

“What was he sentenced to, guys?” Hickey asks the crew when the cameras stop rolling. She looks around the room, waiting for a reply. Walls of little red lights twinkle behind her, and the freshly shined stage gleams beneath her feet. A crew member tells her that a sentence hasn’t been announced yet, but that Twain’s stalker has already pleaded guilty. “We should get a security expert to discuss what celebrities think is a big deal and what’s not,” she suggests.

“Five, four, three….”

“Demi Moore steps out alone!” Hickey says to the camera, her voice full of drama and intrigue.

•••

This is the heart of the beast, the backstage pass, the sparkle in our eye. The entertainment news show is our glimpse into the world of celebrity, from the glamourous lifestyles to the scandalous downfalls. The Canadian entertainment news show genre is still young, just a decade old this year: CTV’s etalk launched in 2002, and ET Canada (wide-eyed little sister to the American Entertainment Tonight) was created in 2005. Both have achieved varying levels of success, though, tapping into our seemingly insatiable appetite for celebrity gossip: etalkcurrently averages 601,000 viewers, with an audience of 1.9 million combined over CTV‘s three broadcasts per night; it can draw close to one million for special coverage, like the day after the Oscars. By comparison, CBC‘s The National averages 505,000 viewers per night. ET Canadawould not reveal the viewership for its main evening broadcast; it would only tell me that each episode gets about 500,000 viewers total, a statistic that combines the show’s five airings on three networks.

Until last September, that popularity was helped by the shows (along with Canadian dramas and documentaries) being designated as priority programming by the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission. That meant broadcasters were required to air them during prime time. For the entertainment shows, it also meant they had to follow Canadian content regulations, devoting at least two-thirds of each episode to covering Canadian entertainment news. The CRTC eliminated priority programming altogether (a decision made in 2010 but implemented as of September 1, 2011), replacing it with strict spending requirements (a certain percentage of each broadcaster’s revenue has to be spent on Canadian shows). However, the CRTC did not implement a new Canadian content regulation for entertainment news shows, meaning nothing forces them to concentrate on Canada.

“The initial idea of allowing shows such as etalk and ET Canada to qualify as Canadian content was the notion that they could be used to promote a Canadian star system and help build audiences for other Canadian content,” says Globe and Mail cultural affairs writer Kate Taylor. Now these shows presumably feel they have accomplished that goal and can move past it—and the CRTC seems to agree.

“What [these shows and their broadcasters have] done now is say, I guess, ‘We don’t need that anymore. Give us the flexibility to do what’s best for us,'” says Phyllis Yaffe, former CEO of Alliance Atlantis. “And I’m sure somebody said, ‘People know our stars more, so a regulation about what percentage should be Canadians is kind of overkill.'”

“In the last 10 years, the world’s changed, with more people watching broadcasting on the internet and with on-demand programming, so the schedule and linear service is becoming less relevant, less important,” says Peter Foster, director general of television policy and applications at the CRTC. “The thinking was that imposing exhibition requirements for specific programming is becoming less and less effective in terms of Canadian programs.”

In regards to Canadian entertainment news shows, and the fact that there are now no regulations surrounding the amount of Canadian news they cover, Foster says it comes down to the fact that such a rule was very hard to administer. “I think with the e-magazine shows, that was an attempt to work out in English Canada—not Quebec, it’s fine there—the need to try to create a star system,” he says. “I think the jury is out on whether or not that was happening. Also, [the rule that] two-thirds of each episode had to be covering Canadian issues really was a very difficult provision to enforce.” So the CRTC no longer does.

Everything—seven months of planning, discussing, organizing, and executing—led up to this night. It was Thursday, April 5, and we (the Summer 2012 masthead of the Ryerson Review of Journalism) were finally ready to reveal our baby to the masses. And, if I do say so myself, everyone loved her.

The evening got started around 5:30 p.m. at the Gladstone Hotel ballroom, which our lovely PR team had decorated with white and red balloons. An assortment of tasty appetizers were served, and the bar was kept busy by thirsty party attendees. The crowd was a lively mix of Ryerson students and staff, industry professionals, and fans/supporters/friends of the magazine. Speeches were given by our publisher, Ivor Shapiro, our instructor, Lynn Cunningham, and our editor (that’s me!). One lucky party-goer walked away with a free gift basket courtesy of Labour of Love. Thanks to everyone who entered the raffle; your donation means a lot to us. As the sun went down, the party really got underway, with the masthead members and friends dancing until midnight.

Thank you so much to everyone who came to the launch and supported the magazine. We’re thrilled with the end product and are just happy there are people out there who want to check it out. This experience has been amazing for all of us, so thanks for being—in any way—a part of it.

Sara Harowitz offers a preview of her upcoming feature “So long, CanCon” in the Summer 2012 issue of the Ryerson Review of Journalism.

Sara Harowitz offers a preview of her upcoming feature “So long, CanCon” in the Summer 2012 issue of the Ryerson Review of Journalism.

Sorry, Bono, but if Good magazine had to live “with or without you,” it appears the publication would choose the latter.

In an editorial titled, “We Were Offered 10 Minutes with Bono—Why We Didn’t Care,” Good senior editor Cord Jefferson writes about the typical banality of celebrity interviews and why he won’t put up with it. Specifically, Irish rocker Bono’s publicist offered the magazine a 10-minute interview with theU2 lead singer and activist, but the magazine decided to decline. It isn’t so much that Jefferson has a problem with giving attention to famous people—in fact, he says he’d happily discuss some less flattering issues relating to Bono’s charity work—as it is that he has a problem with the walls these celebrities are forced to put up. It seems that most interviews with famous people become stale before even getting the chance to ripen.

The problem, Jefferson suggests, lies largely with the publicity team that stands behind each star: “The celebrity-industrial complex is a real phenomenon, and a big part of the problem is the droves of publicists and PR people whose sole job is to shield their famous clients from saying or doing anything to tarnish their reputations,” he writes. “This means hawking out 10-minute, highly regulated interviews to newspapers and magazines in the hope that some of them won’t care that they’re being condescended to.”

“I just don’t know what I do,” he says. The University of British Columbia cafeteria is quiet; the tone of his nasally voice—the loudest thing in the room—is thoughtful, honest. That famous tam sits atop his head of frizzy brown hair as he munches on a sandwich similar to an Egg McMuffin. A to-go cup of green tea sits steaming. “And I can’t really explain what I am.”

“I’m still trying to get to the top of the rock pile; I’m still trying to get there,” Nardwuar the Human Serviette says. “That’s why it’s kind of hard to comment on what I’m doing and what’s worked and what hasn’t worked, because I still don’t really know.”

Recognized for his unique fashion sense—plaid tam and plaid pants—his oddball questions (“There’s a new zine out called Stone Grass and they talk about this girl from Washington, D.C. that says she had sex with you and that your cock is shaped like a soup can…?”), and most of all, his ability to dig up the most obscure information about whomever he is interviewing (“Your mom worked at Good Vibrations. You did your homework at Good Vibrations, literally, didn’t you?”), Nardwuar has become something of a Canadian treasure. People love him, people hate him; but everyone knows him.

Over the years, Nardwuar has developed into his own category of journalist, combining theatrics with hardcore reporting. He always brings along props (CDs, album inserts, records, MiniDiscs, posters, pictures, dolls) to his interviews, finding ways to connect them to the person he is speaking with. As longtime friend and admirer Leora Kornfeld says, “I would describe [his work] as walking this razor blade edge between chaos, humiliation, scholarship, and vaudeville. It’s this circus-like event and you never know at any given moment which one is going to rear its head.”

Born July 5, 1968, in Vancouver, B.C., Nardwuar (who asked that his real name not be published) is known by many for his MuchMusic freelancing gig from the late 1990s to late 2000s. His music journalism career began much earlier, though, in 1987, when he began classes at the University of British Columbia and found himself addicted to the atmosphere at the student-run CiTR radio. A year later, he had his own show: “Nardwuar the Human Serviette” (the name “Nardwuar” is, he says, just “a dumb, stupid name like Sting or Sinbad;” “Human” came from a Cramps song called “Human Fly”; and “Serviette” came from the fact that “in the U.S.A. they don’t have serviettes, they have napkins”). Since then he has created an all-encompassing brand for himself, incorporating his video interviews, his radio show (which he still does every Friday at 3:30 p.m.), his punk band

The Evaporators, DVDs, and anything else he sees fit. Nardwuar’s career has seen him interview everyone from Henry Rollins (twice), to Snoop Dogg (five times), to Kurt Cobain, to Cults.

“He’s good at digging up things that make most people go, ‘Holy shit, how did you know that?’” says Georgia Straight music writer Mike Usinger. “And you see that repeatedly over the course of his interviews. He’s extremely thorough and puts an incredible amount of work into finding these things. I don’t even know how he finds them.” When asked how he finds said information (his research time is minimum one week), Nardwuar’s answer is simply, “Everything is out there; it’s just people are too lazy to look.”

It’s an idea that resonates deeply with Nardwuar. He is forever second-guessing himself, endlessly conscious of how little he knows.

“I always get scared. I get nervous,” he says. “I think it’s good, because you’re nervous, you think you want to give up, but in actual fact it actually spurs you on to want to do things. So it’s, ‘Oh, my God, I know nothing about this person I’m about to interview. I’d better find some information on them.’ Whereas sometimes if you’re not nervous, you might be like those traditional journalists who are like, ‘Yeah, I’ve got an interview coming up at three. I’ll look at the bio maybe for a second, ask a couple questions.’ Because they are confident, they don’t look. But if they were nervous they’d realize how much they didn’t know.”

This need to keep searching, to dig deeper, is something that works to Nardwuar’s advantage, resulting in hilarious and insightful interviews.

“He’s got definitely a very unique persona,” says fellow CiTR radio host Tyler Fedchuck (whose show, Radiozero, airs right before Nardwuar’s). “Beyond just the superficial outfits that he’s got, he does better interviews than anybody, I think. His skill at digging up information on people that seems impossible that he could find is remarkable.”

Part of Nardwuar’s ability to commit so much research time comes from a deep curiosity about the world around him and a deep passion for asking questions to find out more. He strongly believes that working journalists should love what they do or should do something else. If you’re not looking forward to an interview, he argues, you shouldn’t be conducting it.

“I think that’s also why I get mad at those mainstream people; it’s like, ‘Yeah, I’ve got to do an interview,’ but it’s great!” he says. “If you’re not excited, then don’t do it.”

He longs for the access that the mainstream media gets for political interviews, and wishes those who had it would stop taking it for granted.

“I remember speaking to some lady and she was like, ‘Oh, an election is coming. Aw, I’ve gotta cover it,’” Nardwuar says. “And I’m like, ‘Oh, my God, you’re going to know when the candidates are going to be making their appearances, and you’re going to get the special press pass to do it? I’m just sitting at home on the internet trying to figure out when is somebody coming to town.’ But for the most part, the [mainstream] media, they just show up and it’s all there, they get all the press releases, all in the morning, all delivered right to their inboxes. And me, I was just totally hustling.”

Nardwuar has been able to interview many politicians (Jean Chrétien twice, Paul Martin, Jack Layton). In fact, his question about the use of pepper spray that he put to then-Prime Minister Chrétien at the 1997 Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation resulted in a quote that was used by media outlets all over the country: “For me, pepper, I put it on my plate.” Nardwuar points out the media—and politics—are shifting.

“Now the politician might appear only on one show,” says Nardwuar. “But it would be on Stephen Colbert or Jon Stewart, whereas before they would only want the exclusive on ABC News or something. So I think it’s shifting slightly. So I’m not as jealous of the mainstream people now because there isn’t much mainstream stuff left.”

Forever the anecdote and information sponge, Nardwuar (whose mind is “like a steel trap,” says Fedchuck) is the media and the anti-media, the journalist and the fan, the insecurity and the confidence. As Usinger says, “Most of us don’t have the balls to dress up in a plaid tam and speak in a voice that sounds like a nail factory being dragged across a chalkboard.” And it rings true; Nardwuar is wonderfully weird, charmingly strange, and unafraid to let his freak flag fly. And it just so happens that it scored him a winning ticket—although he wouldn’t put it that way.

“If you think you know it all, you kind of get lazy. I’m always thinking, ‘There’s another interview happening, and I don’t know anything about it, and I’m going to have to figure it out really soon,’” Nardwuar says. “The minute I think I’ve figured it all out is probably the minute I should quit.”

Photos of Henry Rollins and Cults via Nardwuar.

Last Thursday, February 2, we held our fundraiser party at the Black Bull Tavern at 298 Queen Street West in Toronto. Determined to produce the best magazine possible, the 20 of us on the Summer 2012 masthead felt a lot of pressure to raise a large amount of money—it will go directly back into the magazine and help pay for things like visuals and the launch party. Now that the event is over, I say with confidence that it was a huge success. We ended up raising over $1,500, and for that, we are truly grateful.

Starting at 8 p.m. and wrapping up around 2 a.m., the night was filled with friends, family, colleagues, and industry professionals. The Black Bull donated some appetizer platters, including some tasty cheese sticks and fresh vegetables, and they let us design our own cocktail; we named it the Toronto Slur, and it was comprised of vodka, Sourpuss, apple juice, and cranberry juice. One of our senior online editors, Leah Wong, and one of our PR directors, Trisha Fialho, made delicious Buried Lead (or “Berried Lede”) cupcakes with buttercream icing and a sweet raspberry centre that we gave away with each raffle ticket. The raffle itself was popular, and many of our guests walked away with a lovely prize. We give special thanks to the following businesses and people who so kindly donated their goods and/or services:

In the third episode of the Ryerson Review of Journalism’s Most Tales video series, former foreign correspondant Wilf Dinnick talks about the most frightening period of his career—launching the online community news site OpenFile.