There's been plenty written, said and viewed on what Cronkite meant to television and journalism. There was one observation made Wednesday during an event held in Avery Fisher Hall at New York's Lincoln Center, that while Murrow ushered in the era of broadcast journalism it was primarily through the use of radio. Cronkite, it is said, was the real father of television journalism.
There are the Huntley-Brinkley folks at NBC who might respectfully disagree, but there is near-unanimity that Cronkite was, is, and will always be the first true "anchorman." He may very well be the last to wield such influence, given the fracturing media landscape which is remaking business models for broadcast and print journalism.
It must have been tough for President Obama to speak to the legacy of Walter, admitting from the start that unlike virtually every other speaker he didn't know Cronkite. So the President challenged the media, invoking the legacy of Walter.
Listening to the speeches, I was struck not so much by the expected platitudes on Cronkite's meaning to the business but more by what Cronkite meant to those who knew him. Former President Bill Clinton noted how Walter and Betsy Cronkite invited he and Hillary to sail in the waters off Martha's Vineyard at a particularly bad time -- when it didn't hurt to have a wayward husband photographed with America's most trusted man. It was a real moment that didn't dwell on interviews with the powerful. It was a moment of genuine humanity, recalled by one man highlighting the decency of another. "He was a good man," Clinton said in the raspy Arkansas drawl not lost to years of the world stage. Not journalism. Not media. A good man.
Nick Clooney is perhaps best known by a new generation as George's father. For those in Cincinnati's Tri-State area he's remembered as the long-time news anchor at Channel 12, certainly no stranger to the news business.
Clooney recalled the times when the local anchor and icon anchor shared dinner, telling news war stories. A night of equals, reporters to the core sharing stories. Clooney noted wife Nina, tossed aside such puffery, remarking his stories of the Newport Fire strike didn't compare well to interviewing Anwar Sadat. The most powerful moment was when Clooney spoke of their final dinner together, a time when a weakened Cronkite wasn't noticed by the restaurant crowd until he left -- and wasn't aware his fellow diners were silently standing in tribute. "Because you always stand when a gentleman leaves the room," Clooney said softly. An auditorium packed with some of the world's most jaded gasped at once. True emotion, not the "reality" that passes for today's television."60 Minutes" commentator Andy Rooney had the packed house laughing so hard most of us missed the next punch line, all because he was on the video screen even with his first-row seat. A friend for 65 years, it would have surprised me if Rooney could have walked up those stairs; not because of age and gait, but because he still shows the pain of losing his life-long friend, a relationship forged in wartime London through the highs and lows of creating a new journalism medium.
NBC's Tom Brokaw, CBS's Bob Schieffer, ex-CBS boss, now head of Sony, Sir Howard Stringer, current CBS corporate chief Les Moonves, incumbent CBS News chief Sean McManus -- all strode to the podium to remember not just legacy but a human man who liked a drink, loved a laugh and was forever curious. It was almost a picture of a more innocent time, despite thinking back on Cronkite's tenure spanning a World War, Korea, Vietnam, genocide, the rise of the Berlin Wall and Iron Curtain, the Civil Rights movement and murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the rise of the Kennedy dynasty and death of it's President and brother, the political destruction of Nixon, all seismic shifts in American political life.
There was also Buzz Aldrin, America's second man to set foot on the moon, paying personal homage to the anchorman who set the standard for supporting extending mankind's reach beyond the clouds. Members of the Navy veterans protecting and serving the U.S.S Intrepid, docked in Manhattan, a favorite viewing spot for the sailing-lover Cronkite, recalled him with their highest honor: shipmate.
If Murrow is considered the patron saint of broadcast journalism, "Uncle Walter" the father of TV journalism.
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All of this leads us to journalism today, a far different world than the one forged by the Cronkites, Huntleys and Brinkleys. It isn't just the white boys club anymore, although it is worth noting white men still run America's news businesses. TV is still the big dog, but gone are the 40 percent profit margins that once allowed producers in New York to send limo drivers out to pick up pizza.
It is still a cash cow, but as consultant Terry Heaton recently pointed out, business looks for growth and not just cash flow. Watching profit margins shrink by half means the business isn't as as much fun anymore; high-flying executives and anchors used to private jets with comfortable leather seats now fly coach with the rest of us. And kiss those languid lunches at the Four Seasons goodbye.
It will take a tougher breed than those used to the comforts, Heaton points out. There are jobs in journalism for those with passion and the skills to create using new tools and approaches, but those fighting the march of change will find only frustration. It will take those who want to follow the story, not the perks; the battle will be won by those who show the desire to build something new instead of mourn a passing of the old.
The new tools Cronkite saw over his career are things we take for granted now, but it bears noting when he was reporting for United Press it was a monumental task to find an international phone line, or a telegraph operator willing to send news back home during wartime. Now, even satellite phones are only as useful as their ability to shove huge packets of information upline.
Not text...live, streaming video. "You Are There" was a show holding the promise of what electronic journalism and storytelling could become. Today it resides on our phones, more mini-communications centers than just a telephone. It isn't just the journalists using these tools; the soldiers have the same tools. Mail call is still important, but more so than precious web time where we can see and talk to each other from the front?
On Wednesday, the royalty of network media shared the space at Lincoln Center to note the end of Walter's era, this American Century of television media. It was telling to watch so many reporters checking Blackberry and iPhone screens during a quick lull (myself included) or even follow the string of Tweets and text updates from inside the hall. CNN, MSNBC, Fox News -- all had an easy decision showing the current and former President speak, but the real coverage was found online as CBS fed the program worldwide, real time.
No waiting for teletypes to clear the farm reporting back home so the news package could move; no waiting for Western Union to open, or an international operator to find an open line as Cronkite learned to deal with. This story, his story, had no reason to wait. The world moves faster now. Mr. Clinton on Mr. Cronkite lives forever on YouTube. The reporting didn't need to wait for the evening news, the top of the hour radio report or tomorrow's newspaper; it was happening right there, on the spot, thanks to the soapbox software of Twitter and other social networking.
All of these new tools strike fear in the hearts of many unwilling to embrace those changes over which they hold no sway. Listening to those who came to praise Walter Cronkite, I couldn't help but think the true strength of his leadership at the helm of what was Murrow's ship was ultimately found because he recognized the tools for what they are: means to the end. Would Walter have argued against then-newfangled technology needing a satellite truck to send live images back from Vietnam over shooting film and hoping it made the last flight out.
If he were reporting today, I'd like to think Walter Cronkite would be using Twitter, Facebook, Ning, Livestream, CoverItLive, all of those tools and more to practice his craft. Maybe he wouldn't have the "most trusted man in America" tag, but he'd have the storytelling.
Whether we tell the stories of our communities -- at home or half a world away -- using a keyboard or a notepad, an uplink or a manual typewriter, the single most important element is still the storytelling. The legacy of Cronkite -- and Brinkley, and Huntley, and Chancellor, and Bradley, and Reasoner, and Reynolds, and Walters, and Jennings, and Brokaw, and yes, Rather too -- stands in their ability to transcend what it took to put the story together and instead focus on doing their best to be sure the audience at home understood.
Great legacy to carry forward.
Nicely put Ed...I shared this with my reporters too.
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