In the East Tennessee television market, one station languishes at the bottom of viewership rankings, yet it persists with a weekly Sunday political show. This isn’t WBIR’s Inside Tennessee, the region’s most-watched and respected program, nor is it the local CBS affiliate WVLT, which wisely avoids diving into the weekly spectacle of political rhetoric. Instead, this low-rated show, aired by the market’s least-viewed station, It features a curious panel: a former city spokesperson who left in 2003 (22 years ago), a failed Democratic candidate for Knox County Commission (17 years ago) current PR operative, and an employee of a Knox County fee office who fancies themselves an “industrial consultant.”, By the way, he too has at least two failed campaigns Republican Knox County Commission, 1st District and Knoxville City Council, District 6 in 2017.
What’s striking is the panel’s apparent detachment from reality. Despite months of scrutiny from Tennessee’s Comptroller of the Treasury and a grand jury review, the pundits continue to parrot one-sided media narratives, feigning shock at developments they should have seen coming. Their analysis lacks depth, leaning heavily on recycled talking points rather than engaging with the complexities of the issues.
The show’s anchor, a fixture for 32 years since June 1993, seems comfortable in this small-market bubble. No larger market has come calling, perhaps because the anchor caters to what Scott Davis in 1998 called Knoxville’s “Lucky Sperm Club”—a select group of powerful insiders who control the region’s narrative. As Davis put it, “Knoxville is controlled by a powerful few. I call them the Lucky Sperm Club. Well, I’m not a member, and I’m not beholden to anyone.” Read it here. The anchor’s longevity may reflect an ability to play to this crowd rather than challenge it. One that I have personal experience of from first quarter of 2004.
The pundits recently took aim at Richard L. Bean, a losing Democratic candidate, with one dismissing him as “incompetent” and the so-called industrial consultant claiming he simply “aged out.” Such lazy critiques do little to inform viewers and raise questions about the show’s credibility. Attorneys Billy Stokes, John Valliant, Sherry Mahar, and Lynn Tarpy would do well to obtain the broadcast for closer scrutiny.
As a staunch defender of free speech and free press, I know the cost of standing up for one’s voice. In 2013, I faced a libel and slander lawsuit that dragged on for two years, costing me over $24,000 in legal fees. On September 11, 2015, I was awarded summary judgment, vindicating my right to speak freely.
For a more balanced perspective, viewers might turn to WBIR, where Richard Bean and his attorney Billy Stokes recently shared “the rest of the story.” Their account here suggests the situation is less a circus and more a deliberate misrepresentation—hardly the stuff of professional wrestling, but certainly worthy of closer examination.
