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Storm Watch
Fired by NBC4 after a history of inappropriate relationships, violent
outbursts, and ethical lapses, terminally sunny forecaster Christopher
Nance has turned out to be the troubled niño of L.A. weather
by Jesse Katz
THE CARNATIONS ARE DELIVERED TO NBC4 every Monday at 8 a.m. There are
five of them--a week's worth--each wrapped in plastic, sealed airtight. To
keep them looking fresh they are sprayed with Crowning Glory, a floral
preservative that encases the petals in a clear, protective sheen. Since
arriving in Los Angeles as a TV weatherman 17 years ago, Christopher
Nance has pinned a new one to his lapel every day that he has been on
the air. Something like 4,000 carnations.
If you know nothing else about Nance, you probably know about the
boutonniere. It is his signature, his gimmick. As he has told the story,
the idea came from his mother, something to soothe her son's nerves in
the early days of his career. Wear a flower, she advised him, and nobody
will notice your mistakes; they will only remember the blossom. An old
vaudevillian trick. With the help of his carnation, the 48-year-old
former stand-up comedian has become one of the most identifiable
newscasters in the nation's second-largest TV market, the archetype of
the high-octane, terminally sunny, laugh-a-minute, dandyish a.m. weather
guy. He rides in San Fernando Valley parades and emcees at Make-A-Wish
Foundation galas. The California State Assembly has saluted his good
deeds, and the Los Angeles City Council once named a day in his honor.
But while everyone has been mesmerized by his panache, Nance has amassed
a long record of personal and professional misconduct. He projects
warmth and trust into millions of Southern California homes, but his
life away from the camera is almost unrecognizable.
At NBC4, according to numerous current and former employees, Nance has
developed a reputation for profane and menacing off-air behavior, marked
by sexual innuendo and violent outbursts. In an incident now legendary
at the station, he once called a technical director a "cunt" in front of
the morning crew, reducing her to tears. He had the same effect on a
well-known anchor, telling her "fuck you" as she sat at the news desk.
On yet another occasion, he shouted down the station's vice
president--also female--vowing to "shove my foot so far up your ass you're
going to taste shoe polish." The most frightening allegation involves a
woman who became romantically involved with Nance near the beginning of
his NBC4 tenure, sometimes meeting him at the station for their trysts.
She later accused Nance of attacking her, first with punches and kicks,
then by squeezing his hands around her neck. By portraying the woman as
a deranged fan, Nance not only avoided charges but won a temporary
restraining order against her. At the time she was so humiliated that
she let the matter drop. But today, 12 years later, she tells the same
story. "Christopher Nance tried to kill me," she says.
Her claim, rather than being isolated or outdated, reflects a pattern of
abuse that has been shadowing Nance for at least two decades. In 1982,
as a young TV reporter in Monterey, Nance was arrested on suspicion of
assault with a deadly weapon after showing up at the home of an
ex-girlfriend and slashing her with what appeared to be his car keys.
The 30-year-old woman, who alleged that Nance had beaten her on three
previous occasions, had a swollen right eye, a bruised upper lip, and
numerous cuts on her hands and arms--wounds suffered while trying to
"ward off his repeated blows," according to a Monterey County Sheriff's
Department report. "She was really beaten up by someone," Nance conceded
to investigators after viewing photographs of her injuries. He later
pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor count of assault. A judge fined him
$300 and ordered him to stay away from the victim.
Nance's ability to appear gracious while concealing his more ignoble
impulses extends to the realm of community service. For much of his
career he has been a fixture of Southern California elementary schools,
urging children to study hard and believe in their dreams. According to
his Web site, www.weatherdude.com, he has delivered that message to more
than 600,000 young people. Usually he records his visits with a video
camera, then uses the footage on his weathercast to pay homage to the
kids who invited him. What viewers are never told is that Nance is
running a business. In most cases, before he is willing to appear on
campus, he insists that the principal or PTA invest in his line of
self-published children's books, including one titled The Weatherman Is
Coming to My School Today. The books go for $18 each. The minimum order
is a set of 100, or $1,800. Schools generally seem willing to pay it;
Nance is considered a big enough celebrity, and more important, he has
the power to put their students on TV. That, however, is precisely why
the arrangement violates the most basic of journalistic principles.
Nance is not only profiting from his position but also using airtime on
the NBC4 news to reward his customers.
Nance's book revenue pays for many comforts. His $300,000 condo on
Catalina Island--a destination he has often promoted on his
weathercast--is held in the name of his publishing company, Christopher
Productions Inc. Nance's book revenue also goes to charity. A portion is
said to be earmarked for his philanthropic arm, the Christopher Nance
Children's Foundation, which shares a Toluca Lake office with
Christopher Productions. Because he was diagnosed with sickle-cell
anemia as a little boy--and not expected to live past his teenage
years--Nance long has vowed to use his fame to assist stricken
youngsters. According to tax records on file at the state attorney
general's office, however, Nance's charity has been a remarkably
inefficient operation. In 1999, for example, the foundation took in
about $216,000, most of it from Nance's annual golf tournament at
Pasadena's Brookside Country Club. Of that amount, $3,000 went to
equipment, $6,000 to postage, $6,000 to office supplies, $12,000 to
rent, $15,000 to advertising, and $71,000 to unidentified "consultants."
In the end, $60,000--just 28 percent of the total--was left over for
grants. When the foundation was formed in 1996, Nance named a board of
directors whose members ranged from Muhammad Ali to Ed McMahon to future
L.A. County Economic Development Corporation chairman David W. Fleming.
The board might have provided Nance with needed guidance--except that he
never convened a meeting, as is required by state law.
On the acknowledgments page of his latest book, Nance offers special
thanks to his wife, Nicholette Norma Ortega Nance. He calls her "my
editor, publisher, and best friend." She also helps him run the
Christopher Nance Children's Foundation, identifying herself as
"secretary/administrator" on the organization's most recent statement to
the state Registry of Charitable Trusts. Nicholette will soon be on her
way to jail. Until early 2000, she was the telecommunications manager
for Nestle USA, the Glendale-based food conglomerate. Over the course of
nearly five years--throughout her marriage to Nance--she placed hundreds
of fraudulent purchase orders for new telephone equipment. When the
goods arrived, she would slip them to her ex-husband, a man she had
divorced in order to wed Nance. Her ex-husband would fence the
equipment, then split the profits with Nicholette. The FBI arrested her
a year ago. Nance posted her $100,000 bail. She pleaded guilty to one
count of conspiracy to transport stolen goods and one count of filing a
false tax return. Her sentencing is scheduled for February 3. Federal
guidelines call for a prison term of at least 30 months. She will be
held responsible for Nestle's total loss: $3,376,827.23.
"Christopher," says a source close to him, "finally met his perfect match."
In fact, at both NBC4 and Nestle, colleagues have described Christopher
and Nicholette in almost identical terms: charming, manipulative,
flirtatious, brazen. Each half of the couple, according to coworkers,
spent years flouting their employers' rules and standards. "Actually,
there are no standards here," says an NBC4 source, one of more than half
a dozen current and former station employees--from reporters to producers
to anchors to managers--who agreed to speak on the condition of
anonymity. "We have a chronic blind spot to this guy." Nance's
colleagues say they have lodged complaints about his behavior and his
business activities with union representatives, with human resources
officers, and with three successive general managers. The station
appears to have looked into some of the concerns but never took any
discernible action--that is, until it learned about Yvette.
She was an intern, college age and unpaid. As he has done with others,
Nance adopted her as his personal helper. They were seen giggling and
touching last summer, carrying on in the newsroom like junior high
sweethearts. What pushed NBC4, at last, to react is still not clear. One
version has Nance being captured in a compromising position by a
security camera. Another version has him being discovered by a private
investigator--hired by the soon-to-be-incarcerated Nicholette. Whatever
the case, Nance's personal life was in disarray. Los Angeles Police
Department records indicate that officers responded to a domestic
disturbance at his gated Northridge residence on August 3, 2002.
Nicholette accused Nance of "minor battery," and Nance made the same
accusation against her. No arrests were made and no charges were filed,
but officers did seize five guns and remove them from the house. Later
that month, Nance was suspended, with pay, while the station
investigated what was officially termed a "personnel matter." Several
sources were surprised to see Nance gone, given his history of evading
censure. But they were not surprised to see him back in October, at his
"Skyscan 4cast" desk. "He has always said, 'When the smoke clears, I'm
going to be the last man standing,'" one source says.
Nance's staying power has been partly about economics; he and his
carnation have been valuable brands to NBC4, a station whose morning
news show, Today in L.A., has been number one in its time slot for much
of the past decade. Nance's staying power also has been partly about
race; on a station that has relegated nearly all of its minority anchors
to weekends, he has been the only black newscaster at the anchor desk
Monday through Friday--and as such, one that Channel 4 has been reluctant
to lose. "I can't discuss any individual employee records," says Paula
Madison, NBC4's president and general manager. "I can tell you that we
take all claims very seriously. We investigate. There is a process. But
you're asking me about a specific case, and I'm insistent that I'm not
going to respond to that."
When reached at home by telephone in early December, Nance was polite
but evasive. "I can't be a part of your story," he said. "I don't do
interviews." Pressed for a fuller explanation of his behavior, he
contended that several accusations were inaccurate yet considered it
"more trouble than it's worth" to either specify or refute them. Three
weeks later, just as this story was going to press, NBC4 announced that
Nance was no longer employed by the station.
For the rest of the story, buy our February issue, on newsstands January 23.
TOP OF PAGE
>I know he has been discussed before here - the expose article that
>caused KNBC to fire him is hitting stands on January 23 in Los Angeles
>Magazine. Their website: http://www.losangelesmagazine.com/ has posted
> an exerpt from the story. I can't wait to read the whole thing - this
>is good. Anyone subscribe to Ron Fineman - what is he saying about all
>this? For those of you in LA, Mr. KABC is supposed to talk about the
>article tonight on his show at 10pm (790 am) - don't hold me to it
>though - just what I heard.
Wow....great teaser article.....I can't wait to read the whole thing.
Yes, Mr. KABC will be discussing the Christopher Nance situation
tonight (Wednesday) on his show which runs from 10pm to 1am, and
unfortunately, it is no longer broadcast on the internet.
aemilia