“And that’s the way it is.”
When the late Walter Cronkite said that at the conclusion of each of his broadcasts, people believed him. There was no automatic assumption of partisan bias in the media, and if anyone ever accused him of spinning a story to the advantage of one political cause or another, I’m not aware of it. Of course, things were different in his heyday, the 1960s and ’70s. Newsmen of Cronkite’s generation strove, for the most part, to deliver the impartial facts, and that’s what viewers and readers expected to receive. Not the phony-baloney “balance” of today, when both sides of any debate are given equal credibility and weight, even when one of them is clearly wrong, ignorant, or batshit-crazy. Not reporting that reinforces the viewer’s own ideology and view of the world. But facts, carefully gathered through good old-fashioned shoe-leather journalism, research, and vetting. On the rare occasion when Cronkite did offer his personal opinion — as in his well-known 1968 editorial statement that the Vietnam War was unwinnable — he spoke with an authority that was earned from a thorough understanding of the subject. The anchorpeople today are mostly just reading copy written by someone else.
Walter Cronkite was one of a small handful of men I find difficult to describe in any meaningful way beyond saying, “he was a neat guy.” Like Johnny Carson or Ricardo Montalban, two other “neat guys” I grew up instinctively admiring, Cronkite emanated a particular sort of very appealing masculinity. It wasn’t a macho thing. It was based less on physical prowess or good looks than on intelligence, kindness, a sense of fair play, the confidence of one who knows his job and loves doing it well, and above all else, an air of dignity. Just try to imagine Cronkite reading the superficial pap that passes for news today… can you picture him discussing Jon and Kate What’s-Their-Names, or who’s likely to win American Idol? Or hosting one of those sexual-predator entrapment hours or talking day after day about Michael Jackson’s death? Can you hear his voice running down the more tawdry details of the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal? No? I’m not surprised. His definition of journalism wouldn’t have included that sort of tabloid nonsense.
I was only 11 when he retired from the CBS Evening News in 1981, but I understood as I listened to his farewell with my mom that something momentous was happening. I’d never before known someone of Cronkite’s stature in the media to leave; he was a nightly fixture in our home, and the thought that he wasn’t going to be there anymore was… disconcerting. In many ways, he was a father or grandfather figure to me, and I missed him for the first few weeks after he was gone.
I know I’m not alone in feeling like he was a member of the family. I’ve seen the term “Uncle Walter” in many places around the ‘net today. He may have been dignified and dedicated to a certain brand of honest news, but he also radiated a very human warmth, and I don’t think it’s accidental that the two clips you’re most likely to see in any retrospective of his life are of Walter fighting back tears when he reported the death of JFK, and Walter removing his glasses, visibly overwhelmed, at the moment of Apollo 11’s successful landing on the moon. Those moments when his professional facade slipped and we saw the man inside were part of Walter’s charm. Displays of emotion from modern newspeople often seem manufactured or cynically convenient; with him, they were genuine, and audiences knew it. They responded to it, and they liked it. If the marketing slogan “the most trusted man in America” had any validity, it was because of that sense of familial connection we felt with Walter.
There was a meme floating around a while back in which we were supposed to name the person, living or dead, we’d most like to have dinner with and why. I never got around to doing it — me being me, I couldn’t decide which important figure I’d most like to dine with — but Walter Cronkite was in my top three. (I believe the other two were George Lucas and Howard Hughes, if I’m remembering correctly. In retrospect, Carson and Montalban would’ve been good choices, too.) He must’ve been a fascinating man to share a meal with. He was a witness to every significant event of the 20th Century: World War II, the Nuremberg trials, the civil rights movement, the aforementioned assassination of President Kennedy. And of course, I would’ve loved to have talked to him about the space program, which he was so passionate about. How sad and how oddly appropriate that his passing came during the landmark anniversary of the epic flight of Apollo 11. I wonder what his thoughts were on this anniversary, if he was well enough to have been aware of some of the events that have been going on this week.
As I’m sure you’re all aware, Walter Cronkite died yesterday at the age of 92. I imagine the New York Times obituary is one of the better ones. You can see the historic moments I mentioned earlier — Walter announcing the death of JFK and the landing of the Eagle — here.
