Remembering Walter Cronkite

NEW YORK: As the legendary newsman is remembered today with a ceremony at St. Bartholomew’s Church in midtown Manhattan, Anna Carugati, World Screen’s group editorial director, who worked in the CBS newsroom in Chicago in the ’80s, reflects upon his legacy.

Walter Cronkite
1916-2009

The U.S. has lost a national treasure and television journalism has lost a master. As anchorman and managing editor of the CBS Evening News from 1962 to 1981 he became "the most trusted man in America" and guided his audience through some the most important and tumultuous events of the 20th century.

Cronkite, and the Edward R. Murrow legacy of excellence in journalism that Cronkite continued, were the reasons I became a reporter.

In college, I quickly realized I knew very little, but I was certain that I wanted to work for CBS. I was lucky enough to get an internship in the newsroom in Chicago and only a few months after I had started, I got the chance to meet Cronkite. It was Tuesday, March 18, in occasion of the Illinois primary and Cronkite had come to Chicago to anchor the CBS Evening News and the network’s coverage of the returns. 

I was young, idealistic and impressionable, and very much tongue-tied in the presence of such an icon of American journalism. When I finished my shift I stayed late and helped run wire copy from the telex machines to the producers. (This was 1980, long before computers or the Internet entered news operations.)

When I walked into the newsroom I was surprised at how quiet it was despite all the activity. There was a sense of urgency. Big news would be made that evening. Ted Kennedy was challenging incumbent President Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan wanted to emerge the frontrunner in the Republican race. Illinois was an important battleground state with lots of delegates at stake.

The atmosphere in the newsroom was charged, but it was marked by a quick and hushed efficiency as people scurried about. Cronkite definitely had presence, he was unquestionably in charge, and everyone wanted to give him what he needed—even before he needed it.

This was TV journalism at its best—get the story, get the facts right, deliver them clearly and provide some context. And this was Cronkite at his best—politics and NASA’s space programs were his specialties. He was in a league of his own, in his knowledge, his delivery, his concise clarity, his authority and his ability to reassure. At the end of the newscast each evening he would sign off saying, "That’s the way it is."

A year later, in March 1981, all of us in the newsroom watched the TV monitors spellbound as he signed off for the last time and passed the anchor baton to Dan Rather.

I did have the privilege of meeting Cronkite one more time. It was 1985 and I was working in Italy for Silvio Berlusconi’s networks. Berlusconi was anxious to get his young staff the best training possible. Through my connections at CBS I was able to invite Cronkite to Milan to hold some workshops on TV journalism. Because I am bilingual English/Italian, I was assigned to translate for him. I was thrilled, very much in awe and terrified of saying something stupid.

Well, this was a different Cronkite, it wasn’t an election night; he wasn’t on the air. He was charming and funny and put me instantly at ease, first, at dinner with Berlusconi and then during the workshops. He offered his view of TV journalism, answered all questions calmly and fully. He was gracious with novices to the business and generous with sharing his experience. 

To the question, "How is it possible to always be objective in covering and presenting the news—don’t your feelings get in the way?" He answered, "Of course complete objectivity is impossible, but that is always what you strive for—you give all the facts, all sides of the story as completely and as fairly as you can. You are the messenger; you let the viewers reach their own conclusions."

Keeping his opinion out of his reporting was a sacrosanct pledge Cronkite made to his viewers and to his profession. At one juncture in his career, however, in his coverage of the war in Vietnam, he felt compelled to tell the audience what he had witnessed firsthand in his reporting among the troops. After spending time with Marines and then flying in a chopper loaded with body bags of some of those very same young men, he knew he had to tell what he had seen. 

Much of his reporting from the trip to Vietnam went into a documentary, at the end of which he clearly stated, "It is increasingly clear to this reporter, that the only rational way out will be negotiating not as victor but as honorable people who lived up to a pledge to defend democracy and did the best they could."

That seemingly simple statement, made in February 1968, was explosive. It marked a turning point in the American public’s opposition to the war. It was no longer just young people who were against it. After Cronkite’s broadcast, President Lyndon Johnson made the famous statement. "If I have lost Cronkite, I have lost the American people." In March, Johnson announced he would not seek reelection later that year.

That was the power of Cronkite. Because everyone knew how rigorous he was about separating opinion from reporting and that his goal was to reveal the facts, when he spoke, everyone listened. He respected his audience, never talked down to them. He loved journalism and searching for the truth.

What a difference from the cacophony of screaming opinions that can be found today on cable news networks and on the Internet, modern-day versions of, "…full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

I deeply mourn the passing of Walter Cronkite and everything he believed in. Let us never forget the rules he lived by and the standards he set.