Out of The Mouths of Babes

By Laurence Zuckerman

The administrator of a Florida psychiatric hospital stares blankly into the television camera as the reporter bores in on him. "What kind of degree does your admissions clerk have?" asks the correspondent, who has already shown us how the hospital readily admits children for extended stays. "I'm not really sure," responds the administrator wanly. "Well, yesterday I looked," the reporter says. "He wasn't a nurse. He wasn't a doctor. Isn't that a little strange?"

Strange indeed, but hardly stranger than the identity of the questioner. If the administrator had been sitting before Mike Wallace or Ted Koppel, he might have been prepared for the tough, relentless probing. But his inquisitor was a precocious blond cherub of 13, Jonathan Zachary, who delivered his questions with a slight preadolescent lisp. Zachary is one of 16 youngsters featured in a new TV show called Children's Express News Magazine, an offshoot of Children's Express news service, which has been disarming public figures since it was founded for kids by New York lawyer Robert Clampitt in 1975.

In addition to presenting Zachary's two-part investigation of lax standards at adolescent psychiatric hospitals, the half-hour show, which premiered earlier this month on the Public Broadcasting network, has taken viewers inside a bogus abortion clinic run by antiabortion activists, shown how massive foreign debt has crippled Zambia's economy, and profiled an eleven- year-old chess prodigy. This week's show features a report from the campaign trail. If she were raped by her father, Suki Cheong, 11, asked Republican vice-presidential candidate Dan Quayle, should she be permitted to have an abortion? Quayle's answer: no.

Founder Clampitt's original plan was to create a news organization "by children, for children" offering features on doll hospitals and white-water rafting. Then, during the 1976 Democratic Convention, the fledgling Children's Express scooped the national press corps by breaking the news that Walter Mondale would be Jimmy Carter's running mate. "My ideas were totally changed after that," recalls Clampitt. "Suddenly, it was about children taking responsibility -- about real-world journalism."

Initially intended to put out an insert for adult newspapers, Children's Express went on to publish a magazine, a syndicated news column and a book containing a collection of its best articles. Stories are now distributed to 35 newspapers, and another book is due out next month. All are the work of 400 eight-to-18-year-old contributors recruited from around the country. The move to TV was the idea of 60 Minutes producer Harry Moses, who had worked on a piece about the organization. PBS was so impressed by a pilot version that it offered a $2 million grant for the first twelve shows. However, Moses must find a new backer for next season.

Most of the story ideas for the TV newsmagazine, like those for its print counterpart, are generated by the children. Once a story is approved, however, Moses assigns an adult associate producer to work with a teenage editor and a reporter between the ages of nine and 14. "We are not as pure" as the print version, says Moses, because the children cannot write to the exact times required by TV. Instead, the producers write the narrative based on a discussion with the reporter, using his or her words whenever possible. "Television is their generation," says Moses. "They seem to have no fear of the camera, and, unlike adults, they don't overemote."

Some parents may emote over the frank subject matter of many of the segments. And a few local PBS station executives are concerned that the tough interviews sound artificial. "Are the children really asking the questions from their own perspective, or are they acting as puppets for the executive producer?" asks John Felton, vice president of programming at WPBT in Miami. But the young reporters know their stuff. Albert Lin, 15, tells how he softened up New York Senator Alfonse D'Amato with "lighthearted questions" before zeroing in for a grilling on PACs and gun control. "It's the stealth / attack," gloats Lin. Nonplussed, the Senator turned to an aide and asked, "Who is this kid, Sam Donaldson or what?"

With reporting by Naushad S. Mehta/New York