Head Strong: Russert-brand discourse vs. cable carnival shoutfest
6.18.2008
A few weeks before the Pennsylvania primary,
I received an e-mail from an associate producer for a national cable-television
program, who wanted me to appear on a show about Barack Obama.
Her
e-mail said: "We're looking for someone who will say, 'Yes, he's cocky and
his cockiness will hurt him, if not in the primary, definitely in the general
election against McCain.' " I passed.
She
responded by asking if I would instead say Hillary Clinton was untrustworthy. I
said no.
A
few days later came another invite: "We wanted a person to go after
Hillary and how often she lies, how it's easy for her, etc." Although I
again said no thanks, I am sure in each instance someone filled the prescribed
role.
I
was thinking about those exchanges while watching the many tributes to Tim Russert, whose memorial service was scheduled for today.
How ironic that the same journalism community that feted Tim Russert after his death Friday has so many members who
don't follow his lead.
Russert never practiced the brand of
journalism upon which many radio and television careers today are predicated.
It seems almost hypocritical that he should be extolled by those who don't
emulate his example.
Tim
Russert didn't become the pre-eminent political
journalist in the nation by browbeating, condescension or debate-stifling. He
was a facilitator of intelligent, political conversation, not an enabler of the
stark left-right, black-white, Democrat-Republican, liberal-conservative cable
world in which we now live.
That
doesn't mean Russert asked guests to check their
partisanship at the door, or that he was devoid of strong views. To the
contrary, his was a forum where clear difference would emerge, but minus the
edge that has otherwise become commonplace. Through direct discourse, not
shouting and cross-talk, he guaranteed that all sides would be represented -
and not in a carnival atmosphere. Russert was
forceful, yet deferential. He'd ask the tough questions, and then afford an
opportunity for a response.
Perhaps
reflective of his law-school training, you could always count on him to bring
up the prior inconsistencies of a guest's various statements. But unlike so many
of his would-be successors, he'd always follow up with a willingness to listen
to an explanation or reflection.
Russert combined an intellectual
understanding of the intricacies of government and policy with street smarts
about the electoral process, honed no doubt from his days of service to both
New York Gov. Mario Cuomo and Empire State Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan.
That
combination of comportment, political acumen, and wit made Russert
a unique bridge - someone to be relied upon for guidance about matters of great
importance, and yet, you wished you could seek that wisdom over a beer or two.
I
interviewed Russert twice, after each of his books, Big
Russ and Me and Wisdom of Our Fathers, were published. He was as
impressive on the receiving end of questions as when he was the questioner.
Perhaps
his greatest gift was his humble, down-to-earth nature, which he likely gleaned
from his father. When we last spoke - almost a year ago - Russert
told me he admired "the quiet eloquence" of his father's hard work.
Well, like father like son.
Not
long after I interviewed Russert about Big Russ
and Me, I selected it to be read by a small, informal book club to which I
belong - eight guys who get together every few months. We read, yes. But, more
important, we drink, eat, and enjoy one another's company.
I
had asked Russert if he would mind telephoning our
gathering and chatting with the group for a few minutes. The host of the
most-esteemed talk show in America obliged.
That
night, in a small private dining room at a George Perrier restaurant on the
Main Line, his call arrived. He was on a cellphone in
his car, and we lost the connection soon after it began. But the guys were
thrilled, and Russert seemed to get a kick out of
their interest in his book.
Months
later, I met him at an NBC party in the Rainbow Room high atop Rockefeller
Center, where we spoke for a few minutes. I was eager to talk politics; he
wanted to know more about my book club.
I
painted the picture of our end of the call, especially the camaraderie he'd
inspired. Tim Russert seemed to genuinely enjoy the
fact that for one night, he'd been a catalyst of such friendship.
Michael Smerconish's column appears Thursdays in the Daily News and
usually Sundays in The Inquirer's Currents. He can be
heard from 5 to 9 a.m. weekdays on "The Big Talker," WPHT-AM (1210).
Contact him at http://www.mastalk.com.