“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.
