thedrifter
01-20-05, 12:43 PM
Dear Dan Rather: Be a Stand-Up Star And Step Down Now
by Ron Rosenbaum
Dear Dan,
Courage.
Remember when you took over the anchor chair for the CBS Evening News and you tried signing off your broadcast with that word? Just "Courage." Walter Cronkite signed off with "That’s the way it is." You changed that to "Courage." Until you dropped it—as a sign-off, anyway. Kind of a would-be, wannabe Churchillian thing which many people found a little … overreaching. I was there.
And remember the "Theory of Moments"? Remember two decades ago, shortly after you took over the anchor chair, how you made all your senior producers wear badges that read "Moments"? I was there for that, too. I doubt you remember me, but the story I wrote created some flak for you and your boss. Especially the stuff about "Moments."
Well, Dan this is your Moment. This is the Moment you’ll be remembered for, and so far you’ve blown it, and unless you listen to my advice, one thing you won’t be remembered for is courage.
The way it looks now, you’ll be remembered as the craven boss who let all his underlings get fired because they went the extra mile to please you. You’ll be remembered as the Nixonian character who hid behind a screen of "My underlings made mistakes, not me; I wasn’t in on it."
While everyone in the world knows they rushed the "story," skipped steps, rushed the verification process for the greater glory of you, Dan. What if the bloggers hadn’t blown the whistle, and you and your crew never learned how pathetically you were gamed by your "sources" ("Lucy Ramirez," come on down!)—and you succeeded in putting one over on the public? Who would be getting the credit? Mary Mapes? No it would be Dan (the President Slayer) Rather.
You’d be happy to claim the credit, but look at you now—hiding under the covers of the "outside report," clinging to your official position while your credibility as a journalist and as a stand-up guy is shredded.
You say, of the outside report that covered up for your responsibility, that you will "keep its lessons well in mind."
Yeah, one lesson those four people learned is that they don’t have jobs and you do—while you toss them a bone in the form of meaningless praise for their "dedication"; while you use them as a fig leaf to cover your own dereliction.
After all, Dan, you made your reputation as a reporter, as a personality, as a high-profile candidate for anchorman when you took on Richard Nixon, who was blaming Watergate on his underlings and disclaiming responsibility for himself. It was a lie, Dan, one that you were vociferous in pursuing.
What would you call the stance you’re taking now? How does it differ from Nixon’s?
But it’s not too late, Dan. Not too late for you to seize the moment, make this your moment, turn the moment around, make it a moment in which you’ll be remembered for your courage, not its opposite.
The thing is, Dan, I always felt that, as a correspondent and often as an anchorman, you had courage. You had courage as a White House correspondent in calling Nixon on the Watergate cover-up. You had courage as an anchor in calling then–Vice President Bush on his knowledge of the Iran-contra scandal.
This is what you have to do, Dan. You’ve got to go on air, let’s say at the beginning of your Evening News broadcast, and say something like this:
"While I accept the findings of the outside commission on the failings of our vetting process, I still believe the underlying facts we reported on were correct. Nonetheless, mistakes were made in the process of vetting the documents. I am responsible for what goes out over the air in my name, and I accept responsibility for those mistakes, including—and let’s stop mincing words here—passing off forged documents to the American public.
"Therefore, after thinking over the process in the last few days, I have decided to resign and to ask the network to reinstate the employees who were fired or forced to resign for mistakes that are my ultimate responsibility, because they knew I wanted this story and wanted it in too much haste.
"I have given this some thought after my initial reaction to the outside report to CBS on the matter, and I think my initial reaction was in error. I shouldn’t have defended the forged memos. Even though I believe our investigative unit was on the right track, this doesn’t excuse my having allowed an inadequately vetted report of this explosive nature to go out under my name in the midst of a Presidential campaign.
"And I realize that only a gesture such as offering my resignation might succeed in restoring the jobs and the honor of the people who essentially were fired for being loyal to me."
Think of it, Dan, think what a sensation it would cause! CBS would probably not go along with it, but even so, you’d be defining and framing the moment, defining and framing yourself as a brave leader who took a bullet for his crew—not one who hid behind their skirts.
Think of how it would transform you—from the ultimate craven corporate suit, clinging pathetically to his job, to a hero who sacrificed yourself for your men (and women).
You’ve always maintained that you’re a down-home Texas populist who stands up for the little guy against powerful and irresponsible corporate bosses. Admirable if true, and if it doesn’t turn out to be a pose. So why not go out taking a stand for the little guy? Why do you think Ms. Mapes rushed this story through an inadequate vetting process? Yes, she believed too much for her own good, but she knew you believed in it, too. She knew credit would go to the greater glory of Dan. Because it was your kind of story: privileged big shots taking care of a "fortunate son."
And here you are, Dan, acting like a privileged big shot.
But I guess that was always the question about you, Dan: Was the folksy populism heartfelt, or part of your act, or both?
That was the question I had when I was hanging out backstage at the CBS Evening News shortly after you took over. I was reporting on the change in the concept of news that the Cronkite-to-Rather switch betokened.
I witnessed the birth of the "Theory of Moments," which changed the very nature of broadcast news. And I witnessed the embarrassing badge moment. And I also witnessed you, Dan, and another typewriter mystery that uncannily foretold the one that would effectively end your career.
I’ll get to the typewriter mystery shortly, but first I want to recall, Dan, the Theory of Moments, which was devised by then–CBS News President Van Gordon Sauter. Mr. Sauter believed that broadcast news, the evening news, should reconceive itself from an anchor, like Mr. Cronkite, reading descriptions of events accompanied by illustrative film to a broadcast that offered us visually dominated emotional "moments." Moments in a filmed report that wordlessly reflect the emotional depth left out of news-reading reportage. Feelings. That TV news had a mission not just to give us Mr. Cronkite’s "That’s the way it is" but something more, something that only the camera can communicate: "That’s the way it feels."
Mr. Sauter is long gone, and you, Dan, are half gone, but the Theory of Moments, in one form or another, has—for better or worse—redefined news. Indeed, some, like Presidential historian Richard Reeves (in a column he wrote a year ago), have argued that Mr. Sauter’s Theory of Moments has redefined how we experience Life Itself these days. How the culture defines itself in snapshots (think of the overemphasis on the so-called Dean Scream).
Anyway, I hung out a lot around the Evening News command center—the glass-fronted "fishbowl," as it was called—watching your talented crew of executive producers therein as they searched to reconcile news with Moments. (Among the fishbowl crew, one, Howard Stringer—now Sir Howard—went on to become the head of CBS News and now of Sony’s American division; another, Tom Bettag, became a much-admired executive producer at ABC’s Nightline; and a third, Andrew Heyward, is the current president of CBS News).
One of the things that I couldn’t help notice: Every evening outside the fishbowl, there was Dan Rather banging away at his Underwood-type old-fashioned manual typewriter. Now I knew Mr. Rather had been a correspondent, and I knew that he’d made an issue of assuming the title of "managing editor" of the CBS Evening News to further remind people that he was no mere talking head, that he was still a hands-on working-press kind of guy. Just look at him banging away at that typewriter.
But what was he typing? I knew the Evening News had writers for him. Was he rewriting? Was he retyping "ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES DAN A DULL BOY?" over and over, à la The Shining? Was this a real reporter at his craft, or was it a TV guy making a show of being one while a reporter was around?
Still, the typewriter question—it turned out to be subject of some internal controversy at CBS—didn’t preoccupy me. It wasn’t until a typewriter of another kind—a phantom typewriter, a virtual, forged typewriter—seemed to bring an end to the Rather era that it occurred to me there was a kind of connection between the typewriter mystery at the beginning and the one at the end. Let me explain.
There was a time, back in 1982, when the Rather ratings were faltering but the new head of CBS News, Mr. Sauter, declared that he would have no talk of a replacement, that he was a Rather man. "I’m married to Dan Rather," he proclaimed. ("The Man Who Married Dan Rather" was the title Esquire gave to my November 1982 story.)
continued..........
by Ron Rosenbaum
Dear Dan,
Courage.
Remember when you took over the anchor chair for the CBS Evening News and you tried signing off your broadcast with that word? Just "Courage." Walter Cronkite signed off with "That’s the way it is." You changed that to "Courage." Until you dropped it—as a sign-off, anyway. Kind of a would-be, wannabe Churchillian thing which many people found a little … overreaching. I was there.
And remember the "Theory of Moments"? Remember two decades ago, shortly after you took over the anchor chair, how you made all your senior producers wear badges that read "Moments"? I was there for that, too. I doubt you remember me, but the story I wrote created some flak for you and your boss. Especially the stuff about "Moments."
Well, Dan this is your Moment. This is the Moment you’ll be remembered for, and so far you’ve blown it, and unless you listen to my advice, one thing you won’t be remembered for is courage.
The way it looks now, you’ll be remembered as the craven boss who let all his underlings get fired because they went the extra mile to please you. You’ll be remembered as the Nixonian character who hid behind a screen of "My underlings made mistakes, not me; I wasn’t in on it."
While everyone in the world knows they rushed the "story," skipped steps, rushed the verification process for the greater glory of you, Dan. What if the bloggers hadn’t blown the whistle, and you and your crew never learned how pathetically you were gamed by your "sources" ("Lucy Ramirez," come on down!)—and you succeeded in putting one over on the public? Who would be getting the credit? Mary Mapes? No it would be Dan (the President Slayer) Rather.
You’d be happy to claim the credit, but look at you now—hiding under the covers of the "outside report," clinging to your official position while your credibility as a journalist and as a stand-up guy is shredded.
You say, of the outside report that covered up for your responsibility, that you will "keep its lessons well in mind."
Yeah, one lesson those four people learned is that they don’t have jobs and you do—while you toss them a bone in the form of meaningless praise for their "dedication"; while you use them as a fig leaf to cover your own dereliction.
After all, Dan, you made your reputation as a reporter, as a personality, as a high-profile candidate for anchorman when you took on Richard Nixon, who was blaming Watergate on his underlings and disclaiming responsibility for himself. It was a lie, Dan, one that you were vociferous in pursuing.
What would you call the stance you’re taking now? How does it differ from Nixon’s?
But it’s not too late, Dan. Not too late for you to seize the moment, make this your moment, turn the moment around, make it a moment in which you’ll be remembered for your courage, not its opposite.
The thing is, Dan, I always felt that, as a correspondent and often as an anchorman, you had courage. You had courage as a White House correspondent in calling Nixon on the Watergate cover-up. You had courage as an anchor in calling then–Vice President Bush on his knowledge of the Iran-contra scandal.
This is what you have to do, Dan. You’ve got to go on air, let’s say at the beginning of your Evening News broadcast, and say something like this:
"While I accept the findings of the outside commission on the failings of our vetting process, I still believe the underlying facts we reported on were correct. Nonetheless, mistakes were made in the process of vetting the documents. I am responsible for what goes out over the air in my name, and I accept responsibility for those mistakes, including—and let’s stop mincing words here—passing off forged documents to the American public.
"Therefore, after thinking over the process in the last few days, I have decided to resign and to ask the network to reinstate the employees who were fired or forced to resign for mistakes that are my ultimate responsibility, because they knew I wanted this story and wanted it in too much haste.
"I have given this some thought after my initial reaction to the outside report to CBS on the matter, and I think my initial reaction was in error. I shouldn’t have defended the forged memos. Even though I believe our investigative unit was on the right track, this doesn’t excuse my having allowed an inadequately vetted report of this explosive nature to go out under my name in the midst of a Presidential campaign.
"And I realize that only a gesture such as offering my resignation might succeed in restoring the jobs and the honor of the people who essentially were fired for being loyal to me."
Think of it, Dan, think what a sensation it would cause! CBS would probably not go along with it, but even so, you’d be defining and framing the moment, defining and framing yourself as a brave leader who took a bullet for his crew—not one who hid behind their skirts.
Think of how it would transform you—from the ultimate craven corporate suit, clinging pathetically to his job, to a hero who sacrificed yourself for your men (and women).
You’ve always maintained that you’re a down-home Texas populist who stands up for the little guy against powerful and irresponsible corporate bosses. Admirable if true, and if it doesn’t turn out to be a pose. So why not go out taking a stand for the little guy? Why do you think Ms. Mapes rushed this story through an inadequate vetting process? Yes, she believed too much for her own good, but she knew you believed in it, too. She knew credit would go to the greater glory of Dan. Because it was your kind of story: privileged big shots taking care of a "fortunate son."
And here you are, Dan, acting like a privileged big shot.
But I guess that was always the question about you, Dan: Was the folksy populism heartfelt, or part of your act, or both?
That was the question I had when I was hanging out backstage at the CBS Evening News shortly after you took over. I was reporting on the change in the concept of news that the Cronkite-to-Rather switch betokened.
I witnessed the birth of the "Theory of Moments," which changed the very nature of broadcast news. And I witnessed the embarrassing badge moment. And I also witnessed you, Dan, and another typewriter mystery that uncannily foretold the one that would effectively end your career.
I’ll get to the typewriter mystery shortly, but first I want to recall, Dan, the Theory of Moments, which was devised by then–CBS News President Van Gordon Sauter. Mr. Sauter believed that broadcast news, the evening news, should reconceive itself from an anchor, like Mr. Cronkite, reading descriptions of events accompanied by illustrative film to a broadcast that offered us visually dominated emotional "moments." Moments in a filmed report that wordlessly reflect the emotional depth left out of news-reading reportage. Feelings. That TV news had a mission not just to give us Mr. Cronkite’s "That’s the way it is" but something more, something that only the camera can communicate: "That’s the way it feels."
Mr. Sauter is long gone, and you, Dan, are half gone, but the Theory of Moments, in one form or another, has—for better or worse—redefined news. Indeed, some, like Presidential historian Richard Reeves (in a column he wrote a year ago), have argued that Mr. Sauter’s Theory of Moments has redefined how we experience Life Itself these days. How the culture defines itself in snapshots (think of the overemphasis on the so-called Dean Scream).
Anyway, I hung out a lot around the Evening News command center—the glass-fronted "fishbowl," as it was called—watching your talented crew of executive producers therein as they searched to reconcile news with Moments. (Among the fishbowl crew, one, Howard Stringer—now Sir Howard—went on to become the head of CBS News and now of Sony’s American division; another, Tom Bettag, became a much-admired executive producer at ABC’s Nightline; and a third, Andrew Heyward, is the current president of CBS News).
One of the things that I couldn’t help notice: Every evening outside the fishbowl, there was Dan Rather banging away at his Underwood-type old-fashioned manual typewriter. Now I knew Mr. Rather had been a correspondent, and I knew that he’d made an issue of assuming the title of "managing editor" of the CBS Evening News to further remind people that he was no mere talking head, that he was still a hands-on working-press kind of guy. Just look at him banging away at that typewriter.
But what was he typing? I knew the Evening News had writers for him. Was he rewriting? Was he retyping "ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES DAN A DULL BOY?" over and over, à la The Shining? Was this a real reporter at his craft, or was it a TV guy making a show of being one while a reporter was around?
Still, the typewriter question—it turned out to be subject of some internal controversy at CBS—didn’t preoccupy me. It wasn’t until a typewriter of another kind—a phantom typewriter, a virtual, forged typewriter—seemed to bring an end to the Rather era that it occurred to me there was a kind of connection between the typewriter mystery at the beginning and the one at the end. Let me explain.
There was a time, back in 1982, when the Rather ratings were faltering but the new head of CBS News, Mr. Sauter, declared that he would have no talk of a replacement, that he was a Rather man. "I’m married to Dan Rather," he proclaimed. ("The Man Who Married Dan Rather" was the title Esquire gave to my November 1982 story.)
continued..........