Restricted access

Cable television was founded on the premise of citizen involvement. But as giant Cox Communications pushes into Bristol County, public access programming is increasingly an afterthought

by Kathleen Hughes

Dr. Manuel L. Da Silva has lived in Bristol for 38 years. He is a 74-year-old retired internist, and when he stands before a recent public hearing at Bristol Town Hall, in a watch cap and wool pants, he has a senator's posture and vocal projection, which he uses to describe the support of Bristol County cable provider Full Channel Television (FCTV) for vital Portuguese language and culture programming. The shows include Tribuna Medica, a medical information program; Consigo, a "meet the experts" forum; and Frente Da Desportiva, a sports talk show. The audience for these programs is Bristol County's 12,000 Portuguese-Americans (half of whom speak Portuguese at home, according to the 1990 Census). In the town of Bristol alone, Da Silva says, 78 percent of residents are of Portuguese heritage.

Another Bristolian, George Sisson, the former CEO of Colony Communications, introduced cable television to the state in Westerly, far from Boston and Providence broadcasting, in 1965. Sisson, now 82 and retired, describes pitching the idea to the town council in February, following a man talking about snow removal: "I said, 'I want to talk about snow removal, too.' " Sisson's Bristol County Press Conference, broadcast on FCTV's public access Channel 9, features interviews with local officials, authors, academics, and others. For him, public access, and cable TV in general, "is a curious American democracy that we ought not let go away."

And yet, says fellow public access producer Milton Nachbar, cable TV and public access have already gotten away from us, as evidenced by shoddy studios, the dearth of required public, educational, and government (PEG) channels, and a general lack of enthusiasm from industry giant Cox Communications, which operates in all but one of the state's 11 cable service areas. Who's responsible for this? Nachbar faults not Cox, but the state Division of Public Utilities and Carriers (DPUC). "It's incumbent on the DPUC to make sure Cox is doing the right things in regard to public access," Nachbar says.

DPUC cable administrator Eric Palazzo partially agrees with Nachbar, and he's suggested to Cox the introduction of one new statewide access channel. But Palazzo notes that Nachbar and other public access enthusiasts are a small percentage of the 285,000 cable customers represented by the DPUC, and that the current number of access channels is within legal bounds. And although some public access proponents are critical of Cox, it does broadcast a variety of locally oriented public access programs, from Providence restaurateur Walter Potenza's weekly cooking show to TV220, which originates from AS220, the nonprofit arts bastion.

Atlanta-based Cox -- which reaps $5 billion in annual revenue from 20 states and is one of the nation's 10 largest cable providers -- now seeks to complete its domination of Rhode Island by getting the right to provide service in Area Five, which includes the towns of Bristol, Warren, and Barrington, and has long been the sole franchise of Full Channel Television. FCTV, owned and operated by 75-year-old John Donofrio since the inception of Rhode Island's cable system in 1979, is a tiny dinosaur of a company, and he's upgrading his system to try to weather any Cox storm.

Although industry standards suggest that up to 20 percent of business can be leeched when a new competitor, such as Cox, enters established territory, Donofrio likens the threat to the murderous impact of Wal-Mart on mom-and-pop stores. Cox, after all, has 600 times more customers than FCTV, and it once offered to buy FCTV, albeit for less than half of what Cox was paying, per-subscriber, for cable companies elsewhere in the US, according to Multichannel News.

The DPUC's main criterion for awarding a cable service certificate is consumer benefit -- a standard that would seem to be met by Cox's provision of basic 23-channel service for about $11, and the possibility of two higher levels of service. By comparison, Full Channel starts at $36.45 for about 50 channels. And although FCTV fans like Da Silva and Sisson have expressed gratitude during DPUC public hearings, not everyone's happy. Andy Bruce of Barrington, a Brown University computer scientist, for example, faults FCTV for an inexplicable delay in bringing high-speed Internet access (which is offered in the rest of the state by Cox) to Area Five. Cox, incidentally, is now licensed to provide such access in Area Five via a separate telephony license. And Full Channel, at long last, is racing to offer the high-speed access first.

But the DPUC also requires that a cable applicant heed the appropriate laws, including those for public, educational and government access. Evidence has been offered for Cox's unimpressive performance on this front elsewhere in the state, as well as the company's intention to provide two public access channels, instead of the seven that were originally required. FCTV claims to offer at least three, and by some counts, five. These tallies are something of a shell game, with programming either spread or crammed on separate channels; according to DPUC rules, a PEG channel can be consolidated if the volume of programming drops below eight hours a day. Currently, the statewide average for non-repeated programming on Cox's public access channels is three-point-seven hours per day; at FCTV the average is four-point-seven hours.

These figures, in and of themselves, could be a sign that PEG access in Rhode Island is under-supported by both the DPUC and Cox. The question, then, is whether the DPUC will truly champion the spirit of the state's original cable rules, which were created long before MTV, the Disney Channel, or any of the five ESPN channels, when it was believed that subscribers deserved significant amounts of local programming and might even create some of it themselves. Hanging in the balance is the sole remaining bastion of democratic television -- described by Libby Schiller, producer of Road Island Soapbox, a public access talk show on Cox, as "the one way ordinary people can get their ideas out to the public."

AS CABLE OPERATORS set up shop in the '60s and '70s in largely rural areas, such as western Pennsylvania or Westerly, regulators established new rules. By 1979, Archie Smith, then the commissioner of public utilities, had divided the state into nine service areas, each with seven access channels: one each for public, educational, and governmental (PEG) access; one for leased access; one for "other," and the remaining two for the state interconnect, to plays across all service areas. The public access channels were to be served by one studio, open to the public for the production of programming, in every service area.

Despite Smith's laws, the three PEG channels are now just one in most service areas, with a second access channel for overflow, and studios are used by very few. The average viewer's experience with public access is probably limited to a brief pause while channel surfing somewhere else, or occasionally watching a local football game, band concert, or town council meeting.

Nonetheless, access channels offer an impressive array of programming: statewide, one finds talk shows, Armenian, Greek, Portuguese, and Spanish cultural programming; dance and music shows such as iIlVISIONS True hip-hop; cooking shows; a variety show such as Wild TV, and more. For 15 years, Nachbar has produced Access Rhode Island, which has featured former Governor Bruce Sundlun, Attorney General Sheldon Whitehouse, and the Rhode Island Kids Count advocacy group, at a Cox studio in Providence. "The last vestige of true expression of thoughts and ideas of people who are concerned citizens -- one of the last golden opportunities, and it's a beautiful opportunity -- is through public access," Nachbar says.

I was on a public access show last spring in Portsmouth, speaking about a series of one-act plays I'd coordinated at Portsmouth Abbey School. It wasn't any great turning point in my life, and the 15-minute clip promoting our spring play was hardly an award-winning piece of work. But it was valuable for getting word out about the play series, which would later be broadcast on the same channel, and it was nice for the students who were interviewed with me to have the exposure. In the same way, the popularity of Wayne's World, the old Saturday Night Live skit about two goofy suburban teens chatting about babes, suggests that we appreciate -- at least in theory -- the power of public access to lend a voice.

And yet, as pointed out by both Palazzo and John Wolfe, Cox's vice president of public and governmental affairs, there's no demand for public access programming among viewers, and the number of public access producers among the state's 300,000 cable customers is somewhere between "a handful" and "far less than 1000." Given this relative disinterest, they suggest, why offer more channels or better equipment? "Look," says Wolfe, "public access is an inch wide and a mile deep."

But can't the same thing be said for certain works of Shakespeare? The industrial history of Woonsocket? And any number of other noncommercial, although highly relevant, subjects? Not even the argument of big broadcasting (including nonprofit National Public Radio) -- that radio signals would be muddled by low-powered FM stations -- applies here; public access channels don't interfere with other channels. Someone must simply decide they're worthwhile.

"It's a balancing act," Palazzo says, between the majority interest of lowest possible rates and the minority interest of public access. He's certain that Cox, if provided more channels and upgraded studios in every service area, would pass some of the ample cost on to consumers, as the company is entitled to do by federal law. "Nobody's wrong here," says Palazzo. "Not the public access people . . . not Cox . . . not Full Channel."

STILL, OVER THE last 10 years, as Cox has taken over 10 of 11 cable service areas in Rhode Island, PEG access advocates and producers, such as Schiller, Nachbar, Alex Magill, and Michael Barr, say things have changed for the worse. The critics say the studios are inadequate and poorly run. They say DPUC staff and Cox executives tend to look at them as weird stepchildren (Wolfe and Palazzo, careful to explain that however well-intentioned and kind, public access users are either teenagers who desire a career in TV or film, or retirees, and in either case not mainstream). After a contentious public hearing in February 1999, the DPUC commissioned Boston lawyer William August to conduct an independent assessment of public access in Rhode Island.

August's report found that equipment at the Cox-run PEG studios is old; programming is sometimes not shown at scheduled times; equipment is faulty; staff has been reduced; and posted studio hours don't always reflect when doors are unlocked. Overall, August concludes, "We found that the low demand for access channels may be the result of less than optimal support . . . The author concludes that it is plain that more active, systematic access promotion and outreach could easily be provided."

Although Cox has responded to the report by increasing promotion of public access, upgrading equipment, and fashioning a grievance process, tension remains. Indeed, asked about a few PEG issues -- without reference to any names -- Wolfe's first reply is, "Not everything Michael Barr says is true, you know." And Cox's actions since the August report continue to demonstrate a minimal enthusiasm for public access.

First and foremost, there is disagreement about some courses the Community College of Rhode Island has been paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to broadcast on a leased access channel, even though public educational institutions are supposed to have free access to broadcast. While Bunnie Riedel, executive director of the Alliance for Community Media, a PEG access advocacy group in Washington, DC, asserts Cox's behavior in the situation is unprecedented and abominable, Wolfe defends the propriety of his company's behavior.

Of additional concern is the shifting of autonomous public access studios onto college campuses. In 1999, the West Warwick studio was moved to the Community College of Rhode Island's Knight Campus, and now, Wolfe says, Cox is looking at moving the Providence public access studio on Houghton Street to Rhode Island College. In Bristol County, Cox would consider placing a studio on the campus of Roger Williams University in Bristol, at the extreme southern end of the service area. While Wolfe asserts that Cox is looking at "whether we can partner with academic institutions to make public access more meaningful," moving studios onto college campuses also seems a way for Cox to share the burden of public access with those schools. How much money could such transfers save Cox? Wolfe says he doesn't know. "Ultimately, if it's not going to work for access users, we won't do it," he says. "We have an obligation to meet their needs and we take it very seriously."

Palazzo says the DPUC will watch to ensure that public access isn't subjugated to the needs of a host college. At the same time, a cable operator can relocate a studio in a service area at will, without a public hearing, so long as it's not closed. And there's a difference between an autonomous public access studio, and one that's part of a college campus. The point is not merely a little bit of confusion in finding it, but that such a studio gives the impression of being slightly less publicly accessible, and that Cox is less accountable for it.

DESPITE THE appearance that the DPUC defends Cox as often and nearly as vigorously as the company's own representatives, Palazzo says the agency is concerned by Cox's virtual monopoly in Rhode Island. He points to the fast-track approval last summer of Burlington, Massachusetts-based American Broadband's cable certificate in six service areas, including Area Five, as a concerted effort to check Cox's power. Financial constraints have since kept American Broadband from going forward with service. But to Nachbar, there was something else salient about the DPUC's dealings with American Broadband -- included in the rapid approval was the same reduction in access channel provision that Cox plans for Area Five. For Nachbar, this is more evidence that the DPUC, not Cox, is responsible for the sad state of PEG access in Rhode Island.

During a public hearing in January, Assistant Attorney General Paul Roberti -- a clearly sympathetic ear to the PEG access advocates, who acts as a watchdog of sorts over the DPUC -- asks Nachbar what could happen if all three PEG channels were available, instead of just public access. Nachbar suggests a "RI-span" channel, for starters, with General Assembly proceedings, gavel-to-gavel coverage of the courts, plus the local town meetings. As for education, "Brown University . . . they get worldwide speakers at least once a week. I'm sure Providence College and Bryant and the other schools would join in . . . [But] we haven't touched it. We haven't touched the potential. And that's the sad part about it."

Fellow PEG access advocates Riedel and Barr see trouble stemming not just from the DPUC's apathy, but from the very structure of Rhode Island's cable laws. "A cable company is only as good as its franchise agreement," says Riedel. "It's a parent-child relationship -- the child is the cable company, and the municipality is the parent, and must tell them how to act."

The problem is, unlike most states, there's no franchise agreement in Rhode Island. In other places, cable companies sign these agreements and pay a municipality a fee of a couple million dollars. With the fees, municipalities usually fund public access to equipment and studios that are overseen by a public board. The cable companies themselves must merely provide channels to broadcast the programming. The agreements and fees are renewed every decade or so -- at which point the municipality has the opportunity to hold the cable operator's heel to the proverbial fire for desired upgrades or modifications, if necessary.

In Rhode Island, the DPUC issues free, perpetual cable service certificates for each of 11 service areas (actually, there are 13, although Foster and Coventry have no cable). The DPUC monitors Cox and Full Channel to enforce rules. If there is a violation, the DPUC can fine the operator between $200 and $1000 a day, for the duration of the violation. If violations grow extreme, the DPUC can take a cable operator's certificate away, although this has never happened. Given that cable providers in Rhode Island pay no franchise fee, the state has no money to support its own public access studios, and thus it's left to the provider to provide these studios.

Palazzo and Wolfe say the lack of a franchise agreement has worked to Rhode Island's advantage. Because Cox has been able to count on being here in perpetuity, without any intermittent franchise haggling, they tell me, the company has invested a massive amount of money in infrastructure, resulting in more broadband access than any other state.

FULL CHANNEL'S studios and headquarters in Warren, just off Route 136, remind me of my grandfather's "lake house," which is actually an old radio station surrounded by eight-foot fences on a highway in Wisconsin, in front of an industrial park of Quonset huts, about 15 miles from the nearest lake. There's the same low hanging roof, inexpensive interior paneling, and drop ceilings. Judging by the smell, many FCTV employees still smoke, and once inside, you lose most sense of the outside world. Although it may not sound like a place where you'd want to spend much time, public access producers have found it quite comfortable and accommodating for better than 22 years.

"They give public access when we need it -- they're happy to do it," says Steve Roy, chairman of the Area Five cable advisory committee. "[FCTV general manager] Mike Davis makes a personal commitment to it."

Indeed, Davis, who learned Portuguese to help with the programming, is remarkably sincere in describing NASA Select, a space program taped with helmet-held cameras whenever astronauts go on a space mission, which he broadcasts on Channel 13. "You're just watching them tumble around up there while they work on some multi-billion dollar space station or satellite," Davis says. "And it's live . . . We run it all day and night, in between scheduled programming." Certainly, NASA Select is an example of what could be programmed on a statewide educational access channel, if such a thing existed.

Most likely, Cox will get a certificate to provide cable service in Area Five, regardless of FCTV's history in the community and satisfied public access users/producers, since they promise what the vast majority of cable subscribers want: lots of channels for cheap and high-speed Internet access. This will hurt FCTV, even if all 11,000 Area Five cable customers don't suddenly jump ship. It seems like the passing of an era, and one can't help feeling slightly uneasy when programming is ultimately controlled by the other end of the country, rather than the next town over.

But the future of PEG access is more distinct, and it seems contingent on the will of the DPUC, not Cox, despite Palazzo's emphasis on his duty to follow the consumers' lead. After all, the vast majority of these consumers cannot appreciate or refuse PEG programming if they don't really know what it is.

Kathleen Hughes can be reached at khughes[a]phx.com.