The life of a morning news anchor in Philly, from 1:50 a.m. alarms to studying scripts

Retired nurse Kathy Ashley recalls watching the 4 a.m. newscast during her shifts at the hospital and wondering how the anchors looked so put together instead of “snoring with their heads on the desk.”

After decades of wondering, she decided to ask Curious Philly, The Inquirer’s forum for questions about the city and region: “What is everyday life for a very early morning news person like? When do they go to bed? Do they do their own hair? Do they get to have families?”

NBC10-Telemundo 62 morning anchor Lucy Bustamante let The Inquirer follow her for a day to find out.

Bustamante, a New Orleans native, has been on the job since 2018, when her husband was admitted to a Wharton MBA program with the aid of a program that helps military veterans transition back to civilian life.

Lucila Bustamante, named after her grandmother, wakes up to her alarm, which she regularly snoozes until 2 a.m.

With an early work schedule, and four children ages 6 to 12, she considers herself lucky if she sleeps six hours per night.

Having taken a shower the night before, she drags herself out of bed to wash her face and brush her teeth.

To the coffee her husband made the night before, Bustamante adds a dash of vanilla creamer, grabs her bags, and heads to the door as her family sleeps. Ahead lies a 30-minute traffic-free drive toward the Comcast Center, the NBC10-Telemundo 62 headquarters.

Center City is dark and desolate, as Bustamante walks through Philly’s tallest building with one AirPod in, listening to the newsroom’s morning meeting.

Two knocks on a white door announce her presence to her makeup roommate — fellow Emmy award-winning journalist and morning cohost Erin Coleman.

Decorated with an almost corner-to-corner mirror along one wall, Hollywood-style lights, and a long black marble beauty station that provides the anchors with a vanity table, this 10-by-10-foot room has served as their shared space for more than three years.

As a soundless TV plays, Bustamante unloads her belongings.

A cabinet packed with hair tools and brushes stands behind them.

“Lots of layers,” she says while beginning to apply concealer, as a black digital clock counts down the time.

The 4 a.m. hosts have not had hairstylists or makeup artists since the pandemic. But, it doesn’t seem to bother them.

“It’s my favorite part of the morning,” Bustamante says. “Not only is it the calmest part of the day, but we get to talk about our kids, our lives; ella es familia.”

Eye shadow, check; eyebrows, check; satin color lipstick, check. But she is far from ready; digging into her bag, she pulls out a blue metal hair straightener.

“I have the Cuban curls,” she explains.

Her mother is from Spain. Her father, Juan Bustamante, was a Cuban national who, according to Bustamante, spent four years imprisoned by Fidel Castro’s regime for being part of the opposition.

His fight for freedom of speech is what led her to journalism in the first place. But, despite being proud of her heritage, the 43-year-old anchor grew up in a generation where curls were “too messy for TV.”

“By the time we hit 3:37, we know we have to hustle,” says the bilingual anchor, quickly trying to finish the straightening.

The NBC10 headquarters consists of three floors, with the studio separated from the newsroom by a 25-step staircase. Bustamante goes back and forth between floors more than two dozen times throughout the day.

The city remains cold outside on this winter morning, but the NBC10 studio feels warm, with close to 40 lights brightening the room.

As Bustamante walks in, four remotely controlled broadcast cameras are ready for the 4 to 7 a.m. newscast. This morning, she will play third anchor to Coleman and Keith Jones, popping in and out for special segments.

She also has to film Telemundo 62 segments, before solo anchoring the 11 a.m. newscast.

Ten minutes before the “Live on air” sign turns on, Bustamante heads to the newsroom to look at scripts.

Waiting to go live, Bustamante arranges by phone what she has to do to cover a 1 p.m. news conference — her shift is scheduled to end at noon, but that depends on news.

Bustamante positions herself in front of the camera and briefly talks with her cohosts before the command center tells them to get ready to go live.

“Tax season is here,” Bustamante tells viewers.

With her first segment done, she heads down to her desk.

In between live shots, she works on wrapping up an investigation about how discrimination at the Veterans Affairs office led to the loss of generational wealth for millions of Black veterans.

But, she only has 10 minutes to focus on video editing and scripting before being summoned to the studio for a segment about a drone attack in Jordan that killed three U.S. soldiers.

Back at her desk, she silently reacts to sweet moments of her reporting.

“There we go!” she says after finding the right sound bite.

She has been keeping her earpiece in, and an eye on the clock, because she will be live every 30 minutes.

“Lucy Bustamante, NBC10,” she says as she ends her segment and makes her way to the newsroom.

For about eight minutes, she gets to focus on her veterans’ package. Then, Telemundo 62′s schedule comes in and she notices an overlap.

She will have to impossibly be transmitting in two different languages on NBC10 and Telemundo 62 at the same time.

Her Telemundo producer agrees to have her go after her NBC10 segment.

Bustamante heads to Telemundo 62′s studio for her first of two tapings of the day.

“Que tal muy buenos días, soy Lucy Bustamante y este es un corte informativo,” she says as she goes live, introducing the news of a 17-year-old murder suspect who escaped from CHOP.

Producer Julia Coltters warns her of a word she might struggle with: “obstaculización.”

“Me quieres matar,” Lucy replies jokingly. “I got you.”

The taping continues without any language difficulty.

Bustamante pushes her arms against the desk and takes off running toward the NBC10 studio, rushing to make a moved-up segment.

She manages to enter on cue and almost gets through her segment before running out of air.

“Excuse me guys, if you can take this over for me,” Bustamante says breathlessly, and Jones picks up the script.

“We have each other’s backs,” Bustamante says. “It happens, roll with the punches in this business.”

The first rays of sunlight come through the windows, and with the newscast over, the crowd heads to a meeting area to celebrate meteorologist Bill Henley’s 30-year career.

As attendees eat vegetables, ramen, and cake, Coleman checks to see if Bustamante — who hasn’t had a bite of solid food since she got to the newsroom — ate.

“She is my person,” Coleman says.

Bustamante‘s phone rings. She picks up the video call.

On the other side, a little girl brushes her hair as her face lights up at the sight of Bustamante. It’s her daughter, on her way to school, with Bustamante’s three sons, and husband.

The children pass one another the phone, as I love yous, giggles, and motherly questions arise.

“Did you eat?” she asks one of her children. “How are you buddy, dormiste bien?” she asks, wondering if he slept well.

The conversation is short, but Bustamante is happy to have sent her kids off to school, even if it’s virtual.

Since her husband’s military retirement, she finds peace knowing he can get them ready in the morning. She returns to video editing.

“If the kids aren’t OK, I can’t concentrate.”

As the newsroom starts coming to life, with Spanish and English being heard throughout, Bustamante discovers the news conference will be held the following day, opening her schedule to work on the veterans script.

“Right now on NBC10,” she tells live viewers as her solo-anchored newscast begins.

At 11:43 a.m., she reads her last script from a teleprompter and heads downstairs for the 25th time that day.

Bustamante jumps on a Zoom meeting with an expert for her veterans story. For the first time in the day, she gets to sit without interruption.

Her desk neighbor walks in, saying, “In the kindest, most respectful way, go home.” But, Bustamante is not ready to leave.

“It’s quiet here, so I can work,” she says. As her coworkers make conversation, Bustamante, eyes on the screen, sporadically breaks her focus to laugh at their jokes.

When she gets home, she wants to be present with her kids.

One look at the clock and Bustamante must separate from her script and get ready to pick up her kids.

She shuts down her computer, takes off her headphones, and picks up her empty coffee tumbler. But, before going home, she runs to a recording studio for a quick voice-over for one of the veterans stories.

Bustamante goes up the stairs to the newsroom, for the last time of the day, heading to get her bags and change back into loungewear.

On her way out, Bustamante heads to Vernick Coffee Bar, on Comcast’s second floor, to get a Cuban sandwich.

From here, she will spend the rest of the day helping her children with homework, taking them to play dates and extracurricular activities, until their 8 p.m. bedtime.

After bedtime stories, tuck-ins, and good nights, she too will go to sleep and start the news cycle all over again in the morning.

“Philly has given my family a wonderful healthy transition into post-military life; when that transition doesn’t go well people can lose a lot, including their lives,” she says. “As my father used to say: ‘If you are blessed you offer that to others,’ so I must continue to report on the communities that need it.”