Warrior Pose by Brad Willis Page B

of my body as my heart pulses to its staccato rhythm. Left now on 49th. There it is—30 Rock. A seventy-story Art Deco masterpiece. It’s thecenterpiece of Rockefeller Plaza, and one of the tallest buildings in Manhattan.
    I see the renowned outdoor Rockefeller Center Ice Skating Rink. Lording over it is a gilded statue of Prometheus, the Titan in Greek mythology who defied the will of Zeus and brought fire to Earth, becoming the champion of humankind. He holds the fire in his right hand as he soars across the sky. A golden circle around him contains the signs of the zodiac and symbolizes the heavens. The golden mountain beneath him represents the Earth.
    To me, Prometheus is holding the light of wisdom, bringing the power of knowledge to our world. He is the archetype of a network news foreign correspondent, the ambassador of NBC News beckoning me to enter. Me, the overly ambitious kid, now almost forty years old, who still types with two fingers. As I stare at the statue, I feel dumbstruck, then remember not to be late and hurry to the entrance.
    The 30 Rock security center looks like a bigger version of the reception desk at my hotel. A tall gentleman in black coat and tie with perfect posture gives me a formal glance. “How may I help you this morning?”
    â€œBrad Willis. I’m here for a meeting with Don Browne of NBC News.”
    â€œOne moment, please.” He scans his computer, hits a keystroke, walks over to a nearby printer, folds something together in a small plastic case, and brings it back to me.
    â€œThis is your identity badge. Please wear it at all times. The elevators are around that corner to your right. You’ll find Mr. Browne on the third floor.”
    When I realize I’m fifteen minutes early, I start to wander through this extraordinary building. There’s a breathtaking mural wrapping around the west wall of the Grand Lobby. It’s entitled American Progress, by Spanish artist Josep Maria Sert. It depicts an elaborate scene of workers constructing modern America and contains the figures of Mahatma Gandhi, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Abraham Lincoln, all childhood heroes of mine. I almost feel like they know I’m here as I glance at them and whisper, “I made it!”
    The elevator banks are works of art, with shiny bronze frames and panels of polished mahogany. Hundreds of people line up here every afternoon, hoping to get a seat at the taping of Saturday Night Live . The red-velvet theater ropes hanging from stanchions are already being set up to contain the crowds. Another security guard checks my badge and I’m allowed to step toward an elevator just as it opens. I slip in and punch the button for the third floor. I decide to hold my breath the whole way just for fun. When the elevator stops on the second floor and someone else gets in, I almost turn blue, but keep holding my breath anyway.
    The NBC newsroom is expansive, with long rows of desks forming open corridors that serve as pathways for producers and editors rushing back and forth. There are windowed offices on either side of the room for the executives of the various news shows. The set for Nightly News , which Tom Brokaw has anchored for eight years, is in the middle, surrounded by floor cameras. I see Brokaw’s chair sitting there like a throne. The seat of a living legend. Chills run up my spine.
    A woman in a perfect business suit walks up. “You are here for the appointment with Mr. Browne?” The security desk must have called ahead.
    â€œYes, thank you.” I’m still gazing around in awe and I wonder if my jaw is dropping toward my chin. I straighten into my very best posture. At least I’m wearing a conservative suit and tie instead of boots and jeans like my first TV job interview.
    â€œThis way, please.”
    As we walk down a long hall to another wing of the building, I fumble with my back brace to ensure nothing is showing. We pass Don Browne’s