As I recall, the men and women on the network news programs used to be journalists. As a child, I somehow understood that the men and women on our black and white screen did a lot more than read. Perhaps my father explained this to me, perhaps my mother did. Perhaps I just understood that in the same way a child understands that rage, deceit and lust often lurk in the tiny cracks between the spoken words that chart the course of ordinary living. Or in the same way that I understood cooler mornings meant school would soon begin. I do not know.
But every time I watch network news – which I do on a daily basis, for various reasons – I am shocked and saddened by the decline. One of the main problems is that I’ve worked in PR for many years. I know the tricks, and I see them deployed constantly by people like Matt Lauer, Katie Couric and, the worst offender by far, NBC’s Brian Williams.
Which is why I am saddened by the news that Diane Sawyer will park her ass in the anchor chair at ABC in a few months. Yesterday, on Good Morning America, hostess Robin Roberts placed her hand over Sawyer’s after the two of them engaged in one of those painful I’m-really-going-to-miss-you banters, and said, “You’re my Thelma.” Jesus Christ. Diane Sawyer, daughter of a wealthy Kentucky family, former beauty queen, Hollywood bride, former Louisville ‘weather girl’ – her description, not mine – organizer of Richard Nixon’s memoirs, multi-million dollar crooner of the latest from the annals of reality television and celebrity scandal – is now going to be the face and voice of the nightly news on a major network. In fairness, Diane Sawyer was on Sixty Minutes for a while but, in equal fairness, millions of people voted for George W. Bush … twice. My point being that anything can happen. Has that woman ever uncovered a significant story? Whitney Houston notwithstanding, has she ever conducted a single interview of consequence? Do we really trust her to take a stand in defense of reporting on what really impacts the lives of ordinary people? Do we really believe there is a bottom line beneath which she will not sink, regardless of the revenue and ratings on the table? Although I hope to be proven wrong, I expect her to do exactly what journalists should not: make millions cooing sweet sentimentality while the real news remains as silent as sand. I think it’s fair to question these clowns. Given the sheer massiveness of our media in terms of people, technology and money, how on earth is it possible that 800,000 people were murdered in Rwanda not that many years ago as we salivated over Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan? How did Bernie Madoff make off with billions of stolen dollars even though several complaints against him were filed with the SEC? How, with very little warning, did the entire economy crumble, much of it traceable to office towers not far from the networks’ headquarters? When did our world shift to a tilt such that reality television, celebrity marriages and divorces and talent shows trump news that actually affects people? It is impossible to understand.
I try not to dwell on it, but when my nephews are my age, their news compass will guide them not back to people like Walter Cronkite, Tom Brokaw, Peter Jennings and Max Robinson, but to the squad of glittery goons that now includes Diane Sawyer. As I said, I try not to dwell on it, but I cannot help but wonder who would get Walter Cronkite’s vote for the job, if he were still alive and if any of the network executives would even consider the opinion of someone so clearly more informed, intelligent and instinctive than them. I don’t have a vote in it any more than Walter Cronkite, but if I did, it would be cast in two words: Gwen Ifill.
But every time I watch network news – which I do on a daily basis, for various reasons – I am shocked and saddened by the decline. One of the main problems is that I’ve worked in PR for many years. I know the tricks, and I see them deployed constantly by people like Matt Lauer, Katie Couric and, the worst offender by far, NBC’s Brian Williams.
Which is why I am saddened by the news that Diane Sawyer will park her ass in the anchor chair at ABC in a few months. Yesterday, on Good Morning America, hostess Robin Roberts placed her hand over Sawyer’s after the two of them engaged in one of those painful I’m-really-going-to-miss-you banters, and said, “You’re my Thelma.” Jesus Christ. Diane Sawyer, daughter of a wealthy Kentucky family, former beauty queen, Hollywood bride, former Louisville ‘weather girl’ – her description, not mine – organizer of Richard Nixon’s memoirs, multi-million dollar crooner of the latest from the annals of reality television and celebrity scandal – is now going to be the face and voice of the nightly news on a major network. In fairness, Diane Sawyer was on Sixty Minutes for a while but, in equal fairness, millions of people voted for George W. Bush … twice. My point being that anything can happen. Has that woman ever uncovered a significant story? Whitney Houston notwithstanding, has she ever conducted a single interview of consequence? Do we really trust her to take a stand in defense of reporting on what really impacts the lives of ordinary people? Do we really believe there is a bottom line beneath which she will not sink, regardless of the revenue and ratings on the table? Although I hope to be proven wrong, I expect her to do exactly what journalists should not: make millions cooing sweet sentimentality while the real news remains as silent as sand. I think it’s fair to question these clowns. Given the sheer massiveness of our media in terms of people, technology and money, how on earth is it possible that 800,000 people were murdered in Rwanda not that many years ago as we salivated over Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan? How did Bernie Madoff make off with billions of stolen dollars even though several complaints against him were filed with the SEC? How, with very little warning, did the entire economy crumble, much of it traceable to office towers not far from the networks’ headquarters? When did our world shift to a tilt such that reality television, celebrity marriages and divorces and talent shows trump news that actually affects people? It is impossible to understand.
I try not to dwell on it, but when my nephews are my age, their news compass will guide them not back to people like Walter Cronkite, Tom Brokaw, Peter Jennings and Max Robinson, but to the squad of glittery goons that now includes Diane Sawyer. As I said, I try not to dwell on it, but I cannot help but wonder who would get Walter Cronkite’s vote for the job, if he were still alive and if any of the network executives would even consider the opinion of someone so clearly more informed, intelligent and instinctive than them. I don’t have a vote in it any more than Walter Cronkite, but if I did, it would be cast in two words: Gwen Ifill.
