Showing posts with label Edward R. Murrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edward R. Murrow. Show all posts

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Standing Up to Joe McCarthy



"If none of us ever read a book that was 'dangerous,' had a friend who was 'different' or joined an organization that advocated 'change,' we would all be just the kind of people Joe McCarthy wants."

Edward R. Murrow
Speech to staff before March 9, 1954 broadcast of See It Now

Most of my life has been devoted to the printed word — supported by a steadfast faith in freedom of the press and freedom of speech.

Even when I disagreed with what was said.

That is what led me into journalism — along with the examples of great journalists like Edward R. Murrow, who was before my time but whose legacy lives on. He wasn't a print journalist, though. He was a pioneer of broadcasting.

I often heard his name mentioned in my journalism classes in college. I had already heard my grandparents speak of listening to his wartime radio broadcasts from London:
"He was on top of the BBC building, a major German target, a place so dangerous that Winston Churchill's personal intervention was required before broadcasts could be permitted. Night after night Murrow went up there and elsewhere to describe the havoc around St. Paul's, the Abbey, Trafalgar Square. Buildings collapsed around him, his CBS office was destroyed three times, yet his measured, authoritative tones continued to bring the war ever closer to American homes. His effectiveness owed much to understatement. There were never any heroics in his newscasts. At the end he would simply sign off with the current London phrase: 'So long — and good luck.' "

William Manchester
"The Glory and the Dream"

He was among the first reporters at the Buchenwald concentration camp in 1945.

After the war, the emphasis was on the emerging technology of television. Murrow had misgivings about television, and some of his concerns have proven to be justified, but he persevered, in his pioneering way, transferring his popular radio program Hear It Now to television, where it became See It Now. On the night that See It Now debuted, Murrow reminded the audience, "This is an old team, trying to learn a new trade."

Sixty years ago tonight, See It Now had learned its new trade well enough to take on Sen. Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin"when he was his most powerful," wrote historian William Manchester, "and exposed him as a fraud."

Murrow used clips from McCarthy's speeches to criticize him and point out contradictions.

(I always thought it was interesting that early audiences of "Good Night and Good Luck," the 2005 movie that told the story to a 21st–century audience, thought that the McCarthy sequences were too mean–spirited when, in fact, they were actual clips of McCarthy, not an actor hamming it up.

(Not really funny — because it makes me wonder if we learned anything from that experience. Of course, much of what happens today makes me wonder the same thing. It is interesting, though.)

In hindsight, the program was an important turning point — for broadcast journalism and for McCarthy's influence. Broadcast journalism was on its way up, headed for a rendezvous with destiny in which it would bring all the most important events of the next half century into America's living rooms. McCarthy's influence, ascendant for the previous four years, began to wane.

Initially, McCarthy insisted he hadn't watched the program and attempted to smear it with the same brush: "I never listen to the extreme left–wing, bleeding–heart elements of radio and TV," he said.

But that was a false characterization. Do not confuse the left–wing slant of modern broadcasters with Murrow, who asserted, "We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home." Murrow was anti–communist; he was also an advocate of civil and political liberties and a defender of free speech and freedom of the press.
"We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. We must remember always that accusation is not proof and that conviction depends upon evidence and due process of law. We will not walk in fear, one of another. We will not be driven by fear into an age of unreason if we dig deep in our history and our doctrine and remember that we are not descended from fearful men — not from men who feared to write, to speak, to associate and to defend causes that were, for the moment, unpopular. This is no time for men who oppose Senator McCarthy's methods to keep silent or for those who approve. We can deny our heritage and our history, but we cannot escape responsibility for the result. There is no way for a citizen of a republic to abdicate his responsibilities. As a nation we have come into our full inheritance at a tender age. We proclaim ourselves, as indeed we are, the defenders of freedom, wherever it continues to exist in the world, but we cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home. The actions of the junior senator from Wisconsin have caused alarm and dismay amongst our allies abroad, and given considerable comfort to our enemies. And whose fault is that? Not really his. He didn't create this situation of fear; he merely exploited it — and rather successfully. Cassius was right. 'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.' Good night, and good luck."

Edward R. Murrow
March 9, 1954

I sometimes wonder what Murrow would think of digital journalism. I suspect he would have his misgivings about that, too, just as he had his misgivings about television.

But I also suspect he would have embraced it as he did television, acknowledging as he did so that he was "trying to learn a new trade."

"I have reported what I saw and heard," he simply told his listeners after witnessing the atrocities of Buchenwald.

He could have said the same thing after exposing Joe McCarthy on national TV 60 years ago tonight.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

The Art of the Interview



Mike Wallace died yesterday.

He was 93 years old so his death, while sad for his survivors, cannot be considered either unexpected or tragic. But his loss is considerable for anyone who appreciates the art of the interview.

In a career that spanned seven decades, Wallace interviewed just about everybody who was anybody — presidents, kings, newsmakers of all kinds. I suppose most of his interviews were conducted in his work for CBS' 60 Minutes. He did some interviewing as a staffer for the University of Michigan's student newspaper, but a lot of the work he did in his youth would be better classified as entertainment.

He did some announcing, even some acting, on radio in the 1940s and hosted some game shows in the 1950s. The latter is not as unusual as it might seem today. In those days, newscasters, as they were called, did it all. In addition to announcing, they did commercials and hosted game shows.

And that generated most of Wallace's income for awhile.

But it was his interview work in the late 1950s and early 1960s that led to his job with 60 Minutes.

In that capacity, he really did interview just about everyone, all the movers and shakers of the late 20th century, but he did say about six years ago that he regretted the one that got away — former first lady Pat Nixon.

I have conducted many interviews in my life, and I can assure anyone who has never done one that it is much more difficult than it may appear. Most people who get interviewed tend to feel that they are somehow doing the interviewer a huge favor by sitting down and answering a few questions, which really puts the interviewer at a disadvantage.

There are some interview subjects who do not think that they are above the likes of any interviewer, but they are rare (and, my experience is, the bigger they are, the more likely it is that they will feel this way).

I've seen more than one interviewer come away with a poor interview because the subject seized the psychological high ground. It takes someone with confidence in himself and the validity of his questions to walk into an interview setting and treat his subjects as equals — and be treated as an equal in return. That was the amazing thing about Mike Wallace.

I share little tricks with my students, and I hope those tricks will help them conduct better interviews, but I often wonder if being a great interviewer isn't one of those things one is born with, sort of like when Stan Musial was hired to coach batting.

Musial was one of the greatest hitters ever to play baseball, but no one, not even Musial himself, could teach his unorthodox batting stance to others. It worked for him. It didn't work for anyone else.

Similarly, I wouldn't encourage young reporters to emulate Wallace — except, perhaps, to study the kinds of questions he asked. He always tried to develop a rapport with his interviewees, but he was tough, and he got right to the point. Sometimes it got him in trouble. Most of the time, it got him great stories.

Broadcasting isn't what it used to be. Wallace's death is a reminder that the practitioners of high–quality broadcasting are just about gone now.

"There simply hasn't been another broadcast journalist with that much talent," said 60 Minutes' executive producer Jeff Fager. That's pretty high praise coming from the chairman of CBS News, a network news division that has been graced by the presence of Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite and Daniel Schorr — and many, many more.

Rest in peace, Mike Wallace.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The Standard of Excellence



It was 45 years ago today that Edward R. Murrow died of lung cancer — two days after his 57th birthday.

When I was studying journalism in college, it seemed there wasn't a class I took in which Murrow's name did not come up. No matter what we were discussing in class, Murrow's life and career always had something relevant to contribute to the conversation.

As far as I was concerned, that was as it should be.

I didn't give much thought to what was the norm in other majors when I was in college, but, as I thought back on it over the years, I realized it had to be the same way with other subjects. Surely, physics majors must have many opportunities in their classes to mention the name of Albert Einstein and recall something relevant he said or wrote. Students of economic thought still speak of Adam Smith more than 200 years after his "The Wealth of Nations" was published. Euclid lived more than 2,000 years ago, but I'm sure his name is brought up with some frequency in math classes.

There are icons in every subject.

Granted, Murrow more appropriately belongs to the pantheon of broadcasting's pioneers. When we discussed print journalism in school, Walter Lippmann's name often came up. And when our discussions predated the 20th century, the conversation focused on names like Benjamin Franklin, Horace Greeley, etc.

But Murrow was always important — primarily because he showed the kind of courage that journalists always admire.

Regardless of the risk to his personal safety, he brought war news to Americans from Europe. After the war, he stood against Joe McCarthy and the infamous Red Scare.

He was a giant of journalism, but even a giant eventually tumbles. Murrow was a heavy smoker throughout his adult life, and that presumably was what brought him down.

But even in that regard Murrow was something of a pioneer. At the time of his death, it had only been a year since the surgeon general made the connection between cigarettes and life–threatening illnesses, which ultimately led to the health warning labels that are now standard on cigarette packages, but in 1965 many people may not have gotten the message until Murrow, whose cigarettes were ever present during his broadcasts, died.

We may never know how many people were inspired to give up smoking by that event, but even if only one was so inspired — and that person added even a day to his/her life because of it — it could be said to be Murrow's final contribution to a better America and a better world.

I don't know if he would be gratified today to know whether his sacrifice played a role in the dramatic decrease in adult smoking in the United States in the last 45 years. Perhaps he would, but I'm more inclined to think that he would be concerned about the future of journalism with so many newspapers struggling to survive.

Even though he made his mark in broadcasting, Murrow addressed the proud traditions in this country of freedom of speech and freedom of the press when he said, during the conflict with McCarthy: "We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. We must remember always that accusation is not proof and that conviction depends upon evidence and due process of law. We will not walk in fear, one of another. We will not be driven by fear into an age of unreason, if we dig deep in our history and our doctrine, and remember that we are not descended from fearful men — not from men who feared to write, to speak, to associate and to defend causes that were, for the moment, unpopular."

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

The Decline of Joe McCarthy

It was around this time, 55 years ago, that Sen. Joe McCarthy began his permanent slide to irrelevance during the Army–McCarthy hearings.

In January 1954, McCarthy received favorable marks from 50% of respondents to a Gallup poll. By June, his favorable rating was down to 34%. In the meantime, his negative rating went from 29% to 45% — a clear swing of 16% from positive to negative.

June 9, 1954, may have been the most memorable day of the hearings. That was the day that lawyer Joseph Welch, in defense of a protégé, asked McCarthy, "Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last?"

For the last couple of years, I've found it amusing that modern viewers didn't care for the actor who played McCarthy in "Good Night and Good Luck," the movie about how Edward R. Murrow and CBS stood up to McCarthy's tactics.

Modern viewers thought McCarthy was too "in your face" in that movie.

Well, if you haven't seen the movie, let me say two things:
  1. It's a great movie, one of the best I've ever seen. You should rent the DVD and watch it.

  2. That was no actor playing McCarthy. That was the real McCoy.

    Or should I say the real McCarthy?
That's right.

Apparently, no one could do McCarthy like McCarthy. So the filmmakers used archival footage.

Maybe modern viewers thought someone like Rush Limbaugh should have played the part.