Meredith Vieira hasn't learned her lesson

NEW YORK -- Meredith Vieira, the new cohost of NBC's ``Today" show, is thrilled to meet you. She would love to chat about her childhood growing up in Providence, her undergraduate days at Tufts University, and her amazing journey to some of the top jobs in journalism.

There's one catch though. She has to pick up her son in one hour.

``I hope you understand," she says, flashing a confident smile.

Since her oldest child was born in 1989, Vieira has taken a bold approach to a high-profile career by proclaiming that her family members come first, no matter what. That means Ben, 17, Gabe, 15, Lily, 13 , and husband Richard M. Cohen, a former CBS News producer who has multiple sclerosis and is legally blind.

At one point, Vieira walked away from a plum job at ``60 Minutes" because she felt she needed to work part time. Yet her phone keeps ringing with better and better job offers.

Now, as she prepares to join cohost Matt Lauer on ``Today" Sept. 13, the 52-year-old is molding the reported $10 million-a-year job to fit her lifestyle.

``I don't know how you become a celebrity when you're at the Stop & Shop buying milk," she says. ``I don't think it's going to happen to me."

Of course, succeeding Katie Couric isn't exactly the gig for someone who doesn't like being noticed. But Vieira, nibbling on a spicy crab cake when she isn't interrupted by a ringing cell phone, promises she won't be overwhelmed.

Will she be travel ing the world on assignment? ``I just want to do my job and go home," she says. ``I know that's what my family expects . . . . I've already blocked out every soccer game. My son is captain of the team this year."

What's her dream ``get" -- the kind of splashy newsmaker interview that Couric, Barbara Walters, and Diane Sawyer regularly vie for? ``I'm not being coy," she says. ``There's no one person I want to talk to. I could say the obvious, the leaders in the Middle East or George Bush. But I'm moved by stories and the characters within them."

The cell phone rings. ``Hi honey," Vieira coos, taking a quick break from her interviewer. Ben is calling, after having watched ``Superman Returns" with a friend. ``How was it?" she wants to know. ``Why don't you grab a bite to eat?" she advises before returning to the conversation.

Despite a somewhat conservative appearance (today she has on jeans and a simple, sea-green blouse), Vieira is known for her unpredictable sense of humor. On ``The View," which she moderated for nine years after her ``60 Minutes" stint, she has admitted to not wearing underwear, because pantyhose does the job. She once gave Wesley Snipes a lap dance on air, a stunt that her husband was ribbed for by his friends, says Ken Bode, a family friend and professor of radio, television , and film at DePauw University.

``I called [on the day of the lap dance ] and Richard said, `You're the ninth person to call today about Meredith!' " Bode says. ``She's quite a joker and she and Richard are constantly quipping back and forth."

Vieira wasn't joking back in 1991 when, pregnant with her second child, she made headlines for walking away from the gold standard of broadcast journalism -- ``60 Minutes" -- because CBS News wouldn't allow her to continue working part time (She had done it for two years).

It was a difficult choice. ``Who wouldn't want that job?" she says. ``I had been a fan of that show forever." Her tough stance made her a hero to some family advocates, a disappointment to others.

``I had become a symbol of having it all" and then let people down, she recalls now. ``Some people said, `She made such a big deal over the baby.' Well, I did. If I had it to do all over again, I'd say that I didn't appreciate as fully as I should have [executive producer Don Hewitt's ] emotional attachment to his baby. I talked a lot about Ben. What about `60 Minutes'? There were two sides to it."

None of this means Vieira wishes she'd stayed at ``60 Minutes."

``I never lost a moment's sleep about it," she says. ``I had a woman come up to me at a party and say `How could you do this?' Well, these are my priorities. I would really let people down if I lived a lie. What would that prove? To me, having it all means being able to set the standards that you want for your life."

Vieira grew up in Providence, in a home where the Kennedy -Nixon race was a hot topic and NBC's nightly ``Huntley-Brinkley Report" was must-see TV.

Vieira describes herself as a tomboy who rejected dolls , chased after her three older brothers, and lived to hear gruesome stories about work from her father Edwin, a doctor and medical examiner. ``Ray Patriarca [a local mob boss] would call the house and say `Ed, you really don't want to testify, do you?' A guy had been shot 50 times, a mob hit. My father would go, `Ray, I kinda have to.' To this day, I love murder mysteries."

Vieira's grade-school education was at the all-girl Lincoln School , a place that required ethics classes and reflection time. ``It was very empowering," she says. ``Feminism was just starting . . . and the school taught you that you could be whatever you wanted to be. I never thought I can't do something because I'm a girl."

At Tufts, Vieira bounced around, changing her major from astronomy to French to math and eventually English. As a fluke her senior year, she took a broadcast journalism class in which she narrated a class project on the practice of redlining real estate in Boston. It would change her life.

An executive from WEEI radio in Boston judged the student work and singled out Vieira for a chat after class. ``He said, `Y ou have a future in this,' " she says. ``It was so bizarre."

That conversation led to an internship at WEEI. In turn, she landed her first job after graduation at WORC radio in Worcester, where she read the news on air. Jay Beau Jones, operations manager for Citadel Broadcasting, which owns WORC, remembers Vieira's first day. At the time, he was a 16-year-old office assistant.

``I was driving in and I heard this very polished, smooth voice on the radio," he says. ``I remember being astounded that someone so young could sound that good. It was clear she wasn't going to be here very long."

Despite her authoritative voice, Vieira admits she was clueless. About six months later, while working at her second job at WJAR radio in Providence, she had a near career-ending experience when the weather man from WJAR-TV ran through the newsroom shouting that the TV graphics apparatus known as the Chyron was dead.

``I thought it was an Arab sheik," she says. ``I thought, `This is my big break. I'm going to break into programming with the news that the Chyron is dead.' I knew I needed more to say so I finally asked [the weather man], `What country is he with again?' He just looked at me."

Because the industry was looking to promote women during the '70s, Vieira believes she was recruited to WJAR-TV. ``We were quotas," she says, referring to herself and an African-American fellow reporter. ``We didn't care but once we got in, nobody wanted to help us. They almost resented us."

Steve Bousquet, who started on the same day as Vieira in 1977, remembers she was assigned to a Massachusetts outpost while he and his colleagues covered the Rhode Island State House and courts. ``Because of her Portuguese background, she was assigned to cover the Portuguese community in Fall River and New Bedford," he recalls. ``We would tease her mercilessly."

What station management didn't realize was that Vieira doesn't speak Portuguese. Her work stood out anyway and before long a talent scout came knocking. She made an almost unbelievable leap to the flagship station , WCBS in New York City. ``She floored everyone," says Bousquet, who is now the state capital bureau chief at the St. Petersburg Times in Florida. ``I remember feeling a tinge of `How did this happen so fast?' "

Whether she's humble or savvy, Vieira can't explain her phenomenal success either, which includes time at CBS' news magazine ``West 57th," ``60 Minutes," ``The View," and currently the syndicated game show ``Who Wants to be a Millionaire," a program she will continue to host for at least the next two years, taping two days a week. She mentions working hard, then adds, ``So much of my career has been luck. I never planned anything. It's the oddest thing."

There's no room on the table for the salmon tartar or the carrot ginger soup. Yet the waiter at the Sea Grill -- a Rockefeller Plaza restaurant near the ``Today" studios -- continues to bring out a parade of complimentary appetizers for Vieira, even though she told him she doesn't have much time to eat.

The unwanted attention is intense enough for the journalist to quip, ``I hope I do well at this job or I'll never get fed like this again."

While some news types might struggle with the lighter requirements of the show, Vieira says she's looking forward to the silly segments of ``Today."

``Stupid is my middle name," she says. Matt and Katie were known for Halloween extravaganzas that included cross - dressing and other spoofs. Vieira is ready. ``I would wear a costume the first day," she says. And she has no qualms about promoting NBC's entertainment lineup on a news show. ``It's part of the business," she says with a shrug.

When it comes to the 4 a.m. wakeup call that will be part of her new life, she's a little less casual.

In fact, she started getting ready this summer, even before officially starting at ``Today," only to think better of it. ``A little voice in my head said, `Stop it!' " she says. ``Now I'm waking up at 4 a.m. -- but I'm not getting out of bed."

Vieira eyes the miniature ice cream bars the restaurant offers for dessert, but decides against indulging. Ben is waiting to be picked up.

One last question: What's her ambition after ``Today"? Would she like to head up the network hierarchy one day?

``Never," she says, as she grabs for a beat-up black fanny pack worthy of a soccer mom. She laughs. ``My ambition is to keep my kids out of prison."

Suzanne Ryan can be reached at sryan@globe.com.