Snowstorms dominate Connecticut culture. Whereas other states focus on economic competitiveness or raising residents’ quality of life, we get fired up about local weather forecasts.
The government requires all men over the age of fifty to be proficient in reading doppler radar charts with hour-by-hour precipitation breakdowns.
Connecticut worships meteorologists; the only higher social position is women’s basketball coach. Being a meteorologist in Connecticut entitles you to a lifetime of emceeing charity events, attending car dealership openings, and grand marshaling parades.
For a small state, Connecticut has a surprisingly competitive local television news market and winter storm coverage is where their competition really heats up.
The mere hint of snow pits each network against each other with extended coverage and sensationalist headlines. Not even Ellen Degeneres is safe from being preempted for a weather forecast, much to the chagrin of our grandmothers.
This local news warfare takes place above a scrolling series of closings from schools, churches, and social groups throughout the state diligently ensuring that nobody mistakenly shows up for canceled bingo night at the Willimantic Elks Lodge.
The bounty the networks fight over is coveted advertising dollars from local law firms, cosmetic surgeons, and furniture stores.
Channel 4 laid down the gauntlet a few years back with Snow Monster, a humvee with a nasty scowl painted on its front grill. Reporters drive Snow Monster around the state letting viewers see what the roads look like in their neighborhood without the hassle of parting the living room curtains.
Snow Monster (who is verified on Twitter) simultaneously reports the temperature of both the roads and the air around him. From this seemingly simple set of data, the in-house crew reports not only on what is happening, but on what is trending, how it compares to what they expected, and what it could mean for what happens next. As if the answer to each isn’t “more snow.”
Channel 3 counters this by personifying each storm with a viewer-generated name, similar to how we name national hurricanes. Their winter storm names aren’t recognized by any governing body, but provide a convenient shorthand for their reporters. The most desperate attempt last year was with Winter Storm Elsa, which they should have to pay royalties to use.
Team Coverage is their differentiating factor (although all claim it, Channel 3 has the multi-frame graphics to support it) and they really provide extensive coverage. Their tag-team weathermen have a chemistry that makes Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper look like homeschooled siblings.
The steamy will-they won’t-they drama is supported by lead anchors behind the desk, pinpoint traffic reports from around the state, and numerous reporters in the field. They have perfected breathless transitions that keep me on the edge of my seat even when nothing is happening.
I’ve seen them dispatch a reporter to the far-flung Litchfield Hills and keep him there from 3:30 AM until 11 AM to report on light snow coverage on the tree branches and grass but not yet sticking to the roads. Meanwhile, their Chief Political Reporter is on site with the Governor in the state’s emergency preparation center to let us know that the state is ready to spring into action if any winter weather actually materializes.
Each of the channels also invites viewers to get in on the action by posting pictures to their app in case we want to make our yards famous. They’ve got an impressive archive of snow-covered patio furniture and bird feeders from far-flung locations like Guilford and Moosup.
Channel 8 takes a more traditional approach with old-school attention-grabbers like their hit segment, “watch how quickly this wet t-shirt freezes outside.” They had a remarkable expose on a recent storm’s “fluff factor,” which really got behind the science of what sort of flake packs the best snowball.
Connecticut knows a thing or two about sensationalism in the state where World Wrestling Entertainment is headquartered and where P.T. Barnum made his mark. So far as I can tell, the entire point of these reports seems to be to make Agnes feel justified in her decision not to leave the house.
The sensationalism doesn’t annoy me (snow is a pretty sensational thing). What annoys me is setting false expectations prior to a storm’s arrival.
The only thing a snowstorm could do to upset me as a kid was fail to hit hard enough to cause a school cancellation. Now I find myself holding each snowstorm against the expectations that the local news channel set. But they’re more interested in getting me to watch their round-the-clock coverage than they are in getting me to enjoy the moment.
That’s why after flipping through each of the channels, I always end up on Channel 3, where they typically end each snow broadcast with their now punchy crew going out to the parking lot to play in the snow they’ve been covering all day long.
It might be newsworthy that it’s going to snow, but once the system clears, it’s good to take stock of your new surroundings and have a little fun.
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