For years, Carl Arky studied everything about broadcast journalism to prepare for a television news career. Editing. Writing. Working under deadline pressure. Reading the teleprompter in front of a camera. Reporting.
It turned out he was still missing something.
Hair.
That's how Arky's career ended up going to the dogs. First the follicles died, then his TV career. Now he works for the humane society.
Are TV stations and their audiences really so shallow that they care about hair? Of course not!
They also objected to his glasses and his waistline, too.
Arky's 20-year TV career is pretty much finished. It's been a decade since he was a Salt Lake sports anchorman.
"When you're 23 and have a full head of hair, you don't think about these things," he says.
Arky, after earning a journalism degree at the University of Missouri, worked on the air in Tulsa, Okla.; Houston, Dallas and finally Salt Lake, where he was a fixture on the air for more than a decade.
Sometime in the late '80s, he searched for an agent, but none would have him. Finally, one of them explained why: "Your hair is thinning. That's going to be a problem."
Arky was stunned. He looked at tape of his broadcasts and really noticed the thinning hair for the first time. What was he going to do?
"I had a family to feed; I swallowed my pride," he says.
He got a hairpiece.
That bought him some more years, but in 1997, with his contract coming to an end, his boss called him into his office.
"Our research shows people don't like a lot of things about you," he said — which is never a good way to begin a conversation. "They don't like your hairpiece. They don't like your glasses. They don't like your clothes. And they say you weigh too much. You have 60 days to do something about it."
Other than that, how am I doing?
Arky acted like a kid getting ready for prom. He bought new clothes and glasses. He dumped 30 pounds in two months. He tweaked the hairpiece. It bought him another year before the station dumped him, in 1998. He has gone through a series of brief jobs since then, but none landed him on the air for very long.
"The industry is not looking for 54-year-olds with bald heads and a pot belly," he says.
But why not? Who do they think their audience is, teenage girls? Shouldn't they be putting faces on the screen that look like the people who are watching? — overweight, out of shape, thinning hair, sweatshirt attire. Instead of trying to give us George Clooney, shouldn't they give us George Costanza?
"I kiddingly told a station that once," says Arky.
They didn't appreciate his sense of humor.
Fortunately, there are places in journalism where Arky could thrive. Newspaper and radio, for instance. Nobody knows or cares what those people look like, largely because they are seldom allowed out in public.
"The TV news business is about making money, and if they can get someone attractive who can help sell more products, they're going to do it," says Arky. "There are many more stories out there like mine. Mine is just one."
He was once tempted to try to get back on the air, "but I was going to run into the same issues about appearance. I'm not getting any younger."
Between jobs, Arky served as a volunteer dog walker at the Humane Society of Utah. In August, the organization hired Arky as director of communications. At night, he handles play-by-play duties for Weber State ballgames — on the radio.
"I've always loved dogs," Arky says. "I'm surrounded by them all day. I'm happy about that. They don't care about my hair or weight."
By the way, Arky is sporting a new look. He dumped the hairpiece and shaved his head.
Doug Robinson's column runs on Tuesdays. Please send e-mail to drob@desnews.com