Will, Charlie’s grandson and Jim sing That’s How I Got to Memphis
Stuck in my head ever since the end of The Newsroom, this song really seems to want to spend today with me, which would be fine if it didn’t make me so sad.
It won’t matter much if you didn’t like the show, or if music doesn’t carry you forward and back or if you don’t mourn the decline of integrity as a core value of journalism, but the use of it at a funeral for Charlie Skinner, (Sam Waterston,) the keeper of the flame, the leader who defended the honor of every journalist and story, is a spectacular metaphor. YouTube won’t let me embed it, but here it is if you have the patience to link, it’s worth it.
Aaron Sorkin says Charlie represented the loss of decency offered by each of us to the rest of us, but for me, as Newsroom closed down, he stood for the rules that made journalism credible and critical to our country*; rules eroded in surrender to commerce and coarseness and fear. Even so, The Newsroom closed with the first moment of yet another day’s show. As Sorkin said, “They’re going to keep doing the news.” It will, though, be with the loss of just a little more of the combination of honor and power, the Charlie Skinner, that had protected them, and us, for so long.
*The Atlantic called it a funeral for “old media” but I’ve lived in “new media” for decades now and the show wasn’t about that change – at least not to me.
CBS News camera platform at the March Against the Vietnam War, April 1971
Bruce Morton died yesterday. He was a sensitive and deeply moral man. He never raised his voice and when I asked him why he told me that he had seen so much violence when he covered the Vietnam War that he didn’t want to be responsible for inflicting any more – even verbally. Those years had left a deep mark on him, but that reply was about as far as he would go in discussing it out loud.
He was smart too, and funny, and brilliant. He won an Emmy for his coverage of the 1970 trial of Lt. William Calley for the 1968 My Lai Massacre. It was tough for someone who had been so affected by the war to cover this tale of atrocities and shame, but he did it elegantly and well, as he did everything.
I learned so much from him; some of it really unexpected. Once at a party in the studio for the guests who had appeared on a just-completed live broadcast, we got into a terrible fight about Lyndon Johnson. I was part of the anti-war movement before I went into journalism and was only 23, as you can see in the photo of the two of us ( along with hundreds of thousands of marchers.) I hated Johnson, blamed him for the war, of course, and had very little perspective on the rest of his history.
With the kind of passion I learned to expect from him but that was really scary then, Bruce ran the litany of Johnson’s Poverty Program, Civil Rights accomplishments and background and insisted that I take another look. He was, of course, right. Like every other story, this one had two sides and I had only seen one. That never happened to Bruce.
He was really nice to me; he and his wife Maggie even hired me, since I was usually short of cash, to babysit for their two fabulous kids Sarah and Alec. And their Great Dane. And their cats. It was a real privilege to be invited into their very exciting lives and be trusted with their kids. All those times are memories I cherish.
As I remember this lovely and remarkably talented man, (I once saw him ad lib a 1:30 live radio report and get it right, beautiful and to the second) I can’t do much better than our colleague Joe Peyronnin:
Bruce Morton was a brilliant political journalist, and a superb writer and reporter. He wrote a script faster than anyone I have ever known. His writing was imaginative, incisive and informative. We worked together at CBS News on many stories in the 70’s and 80’s, and got the scoop of the1984 Democrat Convention, that Walter Mondale had picked Geraldine Ferraro as his running mate. Bruce was a truly remarkable man. RIP my friend.
I came of age in 1968 (that's me on the right – New Hampshire election night.) A civil rights idealist and anti-war activist, I was formed by the horrible events, remarkable activism and leadership of that critical year. Forty years later, mostly because of Barack Obama, lost threads of memory emerged – all year long. I'm very grateful for the opportunity to reconsider those times through the lens of this remarkable election. Together they tell a story, or at least part of one, and I thought you might like to take this journey with me one more time as we move toward inaugurating the first black President of the United States, elected in the first real "Internet election"; abetted in great measure by a generation that seems, in many ways, a better, "new and improved" version of my own.
I'm going to start at the end though – the coming Inauguration, because I attended that of another "rock star" – John Kennedy, nearly fifty years ago – and all that came after was born that day. The rest is in order and I think I'm going to ** my favorites.
**The charismatic Robert Kennedy and first-comer Eugene McCarthy fought for the nomination in 1968. When McCarthy shocked everyone with his March near-win in New Hampshire (that's the photo at the top), Lyndon Johnson pulled out, guaranteeing that his Vice-President, Hubert Humphrey, would win the nomination and lose the election. In 2008 the battle was between two equally disparate Democrats: Senator Clinton and Senator Obama. Having lived through the first disaster, I was horrified by the possibility of a second. It would be too much to suffer that kind of heartbreak again.
**The spring and summer brought the assassinations of Dr. King and Robert Kennedy. I was with Senator McCarthy, in San Francisco the night Dr. King died; in LA that night Robert Kennedy was killed. I was young, traumatized and in the middle of history.
For the first time since 1968, since I had been a journalist for much of the time in between and done no campaigning or petition signing or much else that would be partisan activity, I went canvassing in Virginia
with friends, including a four-year-old who added enormous to each trip
and enchanted quite a few fence-sitters. Each trip was an adventure, always interesting, often moving.
Toward the end of the year, Judith Warner wrote about her efforts to explain the election to her kids – and so did I.
One more thing. A year-ender trip to London and Vienna once again reminded me, as the Obama Berlin trip had done, how much Europe has longed for the America that stood for decency and hope. Barack Obama was named the first-ever Times of London Man of the Year.
So here we are. I'm not sure if I'll ever have the gift of so many
reasons to remember gigantic events of the past, but this year
certainly provided plenty. It was a wonder and a privilege. My hope
now is that, as we move forward, the hope we've all sensed over these
past months will morph into a real sense of mission and purpose. That
is what will take all this promise and, as we Americans have done so
many times, use it to move us forward to the place we long to, and need
to be.
And now it's ending. No, nobody fired her, she still has a large audience and many adoring readers but she's decided to stop. Here's part of what she said in her valedictory meditation on covering women in America – and I recommend you go read the entire thing:
My generation — WOMEN — thought the movement would advance on two
legs. With one, we'd kick down the doors closed to us. With the other,
we'd walk through, changing society for men and women.
It turned
out that it was easier to kick down the doors than to change society.
It was easier to fit into traditional male life patterns than to change
those patterns. We've had more luck winning the equal right to 70-hour
weeks than we've had selling the equal value of care-giving. We have
yet to solve the problem raised at the outset: Who will take care of
the family?
As a young mother and reporter, it did not occur to
me that my daughter would face the same conflicts of work and family.
Or, on the other hand, that my son-in-law would fully share those
conflicts. I did not expect that over two-thirds of mothers would be in
the work force before we had enough child care or sick pay.
Yes – those things are true. My own sons expect (and one has) wives who keep their names and expect to remain in the workforce. And yes, they still face issues of child care and equal pay and glass ceilings. The sad thing is, they won't have the provocative, inspiring, funny and very gifted voice of Ellen Goodman to cheer them on. Maybe she'll write another book though; if she does, I'll send a copy to each of them.
I don't know about you, but 9/11 footage still wipes me out. It doesn't get any easier to watch. But this morning MSNBC was running the first few hours of coverage from the TODAY SHOW in real time and I watched a couple of hours.
It was like watching a horror movie as Katie and Matt started out so cheerily, then began reporting a "small plane" flying into the first Tower. Then, gradually, the awful reality began to emerge. And for a good long time, and intermittently thereafter, it was "eye witnesses" and "neighborhood residents" and other information "civilians" who delivered the best information.
I listened as a young woman on the telephone, on her way to work at a downtown hotel and having just emerged from the subway just below the Trade Center, described the early sights of the attack. She calmly detailed what she saw, at least until the second plane hit when she responded with understandable emotion. Even then, she was able to carefully report developments – even putting her questioners on hold to check with a local policeman. No seasoned reporter could have done it better.
Later, other eyewitnesses appeared, one after the other. They used words like "reportedly," were very careful as they described what they saw, and offered careful, tempered accounts. This went on all day. Of course those closer to the real product of the attacks, the bodies, the people jumping out of the windows – civilian and reporter alike – were deeply moved and it showed.
So fast-forward to today. As the mainstream media fights for its life, as programs like my alma mater (9 years) the TODAY SHOW move more and more toward infotainment, the serious, thoughtful and original journalism is done as often on blogs as it is anywhere else. Of course there are impulsive writers and rumor mongers and gossip tramps but that's true everywhere and, as the witnesses demonstrated eight years ago, you don't need a network paycheck to deliver reliable and well-presented information. The citizen army of bloggers today is validated every time a caring and thoughtful eyewitness offers mainstream media a sane, helpful description of what's happening, or has happened.
So next time you hear someone going on about "those bloggers" and their untrustworthy nature, take it from a long-time broadcast journalist turned blogger: it's the content of character, not the brand of employer, that makes a journalist.
I have been a fan and follower of Michael Wolff for years. Read his stuff in the bubble and afterwards. Even read Burn Rate, his lively, funny and very interesting history of the rise and fall of his Web company. So I get his email every day, with links to his Newser columns. They're usually fine, when I have time to read them. Today though, he's outdone himself so I wanted to be sure you knew. The piece is called "Maureen Dowd is All in Your Head"
Given what Wolff writes about The Dread Plagiarism Incident, I'm not offering any of my own perspectives here. I just wanted to take note of this very interesting discussion of journalist celebrity, aspirational followers and the New York Times in general. Here's a sample:
Here’s my question: Why are boring people so interested in her? Ever since she began her column in the mid-nineties it has been de rigueur among people who, relatively speaking, have no opinions about anything
to have very firm opinions about Dowd. Among a great swatch of uninteresting people she is the officially sanctioned, government-approved lightening rod.
The role Dowd has played is striking. Even in the context of being declared tiresome, she evokes a pretty acid response from a pretty touch cookie. Interesting, no?
OK. What do we think about this? I can tell you one thing. It hurts to look at it, even though I guess I understand what the artist, Barry Blitt, says he was trying to do. Rachel Sklar’s Huffington Post interview with the magazine’s gifted editor David Remnick explains further.
Obviously I wouldn’t have run a cover just to get
attention — I ran the cover because I thought it had something to say. What I
think it does is hold up a mirror to the prejudice and dark imaginings about
Barack Obama’s — both Obamas’ — past, and their politics. I can’t speak for
anyone else’s interpretations, all I can say is that it combines a number of
images that have been propagated, not by everyone on the right but by some,
about Obama’s supposed "lack of patriotism" or his being "soft
on terrorism" or the idiotic notion that somehow Michelle Obama is the
second coming of the Weathermen or most violent Black Panthers. That somehow
all this is going to come to the Oval Office.
The free speech and marketplace of ideas concepts that I’ve treasured all my life clash with my reaction to all of this; I know that. The Constitutional protection of freedom of speech exists to guarantee the right both to speak and to hear not only popular, but also unpopular ideas. We don’t need to protect the popular ones; it’s the ideas that enrage people that need the protection. And I’m all for that.
But for a responsible and respected publication like The New Yorker to abuse that freedom by offering such blatant stereotypes to make its point, particularly when the subjects are the first African American Presidential (Columbia and Harvard-educated) candidate and his (Princeton and Harvard-educated) wife, an accomplished attorney — each of whose life trajectory suggests two stars who did everything expected of them to grow into exciting, productive citizens — seems to me abusive and dangerous. In an effort to make a point about the hate that’s being distributed concerning these two, they’re feeding it.
It will be interesting to see how many right wing websites and publications make use of this image. There’s been plenty of reaction so far and most of it is far more sophisticated than I could dream of being. I’m having too much trouble with my emotional, gut sense of right and wrong to be very thoughtful; this just feels wrong – perhaps even more so because of who printed it. I’ve been a New Yorker groupie since I was a high school kid in Pittsburgh wishing I was in Greenwich Village living the life of Susie Rotolo. Like this – walking through the Village with Bob Dylan.
So it’s particularly disturbing to me that something so terribly offensive was pubished by this beloved icon.
The stereotypes don’t fit the Obamas, obviously. That’s what the New Yorker is trying to demonstrate by feeding these stereotypes out there in such a naked way. But even if they did, how many of us who ever cared about anything is willing to stand by every position we adopted in our younger days?
Even if the Obama’s were flamers back then (and I don’t think they were, by a long shot), isn’t the American way for young activists to rebel, maybe the wrong way, early in their lives then "grow up" to ultimately help to make change from inside? Justice Hugo Black, one of the great justices of the 20th century, started out as a member of the Ku Klux Klan – then went on to be a staunch defender of civil liberties for all. If we deny our future leaders the capacity to grow and question while they’re young, we will end up with leaders who may be what we deserve, but not who we need, by a long shot.
I guess what I’m saying is that this effort to force Americans to confront political trash talk by offering up a visual representation of it all is, to me, a terrible mistake. An image that casts a shadow over the remarkable symbolic gift of this landmark candidacy – an image that lingers like a scar.
I worked at NBC News, at the TODAY SHOW for nine years, and for much of that time, I was lucky enough to work with Tim Russert. The picture on the left was one of the few I could find that showed that great, mischievous expression that meant we were going to have fun so even if it’s not a DC kind of photo, it’s the one I like best.
I first met Tim when he still worked with Mario Cuomo., on the Democratic Convention floor in 1984 when Cuomo electrified the crowd and I chased Tim, whom I’d never met, half way out to the parking lot to get a promise that the Governor would be on the show the next day. He was psyched, hyped and way too busy but he was also adorable and very sweet as we worked to get things organized.
So when he came to NBC and went to work on getting the Vatican to let us come and do a week of shows in Rome, including time with the Pope, I watched Tim play it out. He worked with Cardinal Kroll in Philadelphia and with one of his colleagues who worked in the Vatican and somehow we got our on-the-air mass with Pope John Paul II and a Philadelphia Catholic school boys choir sang on the TODAY SHOW. Who but Tim would have made that happen?
There’s not much I can say that hasn’t been said; I couldn’t write sooner because my kids were visiting for the weekend and I wasn’t being very bloggy. But as the news broke, my younger son called from the airport. He was really sad. I’d forgotten how lovely Tim was to Dan, who was around 6 when they met. Treated him like a cool guy, gave him an NBC baseball cap that I think he still has, teased him guy to guy. When I went over to deliver our bassinet after Luke arrived Dan came along and this new daddy still had time for a bit of a conversation with a six year old. AND to show us a tape of Willard Scott announcing Luke’s birth on the show.
All week people have been talking about Tim’s love of politics. That was true; and he mined every subtle message and decision for meaning and impact. But he had another quality that was even more valuable in a journalist: a contagious enthusiasm for living that made each story part of a grand adventure. He brought everyone in his orbit along with him — sharing energy and laughter, competition that was fierce but never mean and a real belief in both the fun and the importance of journalism in a democracy.
I moved to LA and we mostly lost touch – although he did send a Meet the Press baseball cap in response to a note I sent him. It made me feel remembered – as it was meant to. It was the kind of gesture that’s been in the stories people have been telling all week — it’s just that this one’s mine. And since I’m not one of the rock stars who have been telling these stories all week, just someone he worked with, I’m hoping it will demonstrate the genuine niceness of this guy. Really.
There’s a wake tomorrow and I’m going to try to go. I’m betting that there will be a mob scene there but I’d just like to show respect for a moment or two. I’ve seen so many of us writing about this very sad thing; I’ll say a bit of a goodbye for all of us.
By the time Robert Kennedy decided to run for President, in March of 1968, just days after Eugene McCarthy’s great New Hampshire primary showing demonstrated President Lyndon Johnson’s weakness and the real unpopularity of the Vietnam war, I was already neck-deep in McCarthy’s campaign. I’d been involved since the summer before, in what, before McCarthy agreed to run, we called Dump Johnson. When Allard Lowenstein (himself assassinated in 2000), recruited us for it at the 1967 National Student Association (NSA) meeting, he’d say "You can’t beat somebody (LBJ) with nobody." So he had worked very hard to get Bobby to run, but he refused.
It was Gene McCarthy who agreed to stand for all of us against the Johnson administration and the war. After NSA I organized the Smith campus. We were among the first students to go each weekend to New Hampshire to work for McCarthy and against the war. So when Kennedy announced, just days after our great New Hampshire triumph, that he would also run, we were devastated, and angry.
Over the months of campaigning though, I came to have enormous respect for Senator Kennedy and his campaign. There was no way to watch him without feeling the power of his connection with all kinds of Americans and his compassion, poetry and sense of justice. This moment, just as an inner city Indianapolis neighborhood learned of the death of Martin Luther King, is typical of him at his best:
By June the campaign was tense; such an important issue and the two Senators were running against one another as well as (and sometimes, it seemed, instead of) the war. Kennedy won Indiana. McCarthy won Oregon. We moved south to Los Angeles(one of many places I saw for the first time from a campaign bus) criss-crossing the state from Chico to San Francisco and back to LA. Just before the midnight after the primary, as June 4, 1968, election day, became June 5, we knew we’d lost, so we went to Senator’s concession in the ballroom of the Beverly Hilton and then back upstairs to mourn. We weren’t even watching the rest of coverage. Suddenly, running through the halls of the staff floor of the hotel, one of McCarthy’s closest advisors shouted "Turn on the TV! They’ve done it again!"
What are the odds? I spent what would have been my prime mommy-blogging years, before the Interweb was anyone’s darling, working at CBS News at 524 West 57th St. Now, some of my sweet, funny mommy blogging friends went through the same door I used every day for 7 years to meet with Katie Couric. Here’s what happened:
Pretty cool, huh? My 9 years at TODAY never crossed with Katie and clearly my CBS years were the "Place to Be" years, well before hers but it sure was fun to see the girlfriends sashay on in and charm her to pieces. But then, that’s what they do.
