Joe Klein and Christopher Hitchens have, respectively,
insightful and moving obituaries for their friend Tim Russert. Every
conversation I have taken part in or overheard over the past couple of days
consists of people in one of two categories: Those who had personal stories of
Russert’s kindness or generosity, or those who found themselves to be much more
upset by his death than they would have expected. I count myself in the latter
category, likely because there are certain figures in popular
culture—and even if he was first and foremost a journalist, Russert also transcended
his job and our “bubble”—who are much more visible than one quite realizes. I
remember being rather unaffected by Johnny Carson’s death, but I did register a
certain amount of surprise that adults I knew who rarely if ever watched The Tonight Show were saddened by
Carson’s passing. By osmosis if nothing else, Russert, like Carson, managed to
tunnel his way deeper into our psyches than we perhaps recognized.
The television coverage that I saw on Friday, most notable
for the sight of what appeared to be a genuinely saddened Keith Olbermann and
the complete absence of Chris Matthews, went some way to crystallizing why
Russert’s passing is resonating so deeply. The number of celebrity journalists and
members of the Washington Establishment on MSNBC was pretty startling. First
there was Tom Browkaw and Andrea Mitchell and Ben Bradlee, then Sally Quinn and
Jon Meacham and Barbara Walters. You almost expected to see Katharine Graham
mourning Russert’s death, even though that would of course have been impossible.
Anyway, or belatedly, the point is that for most young, liberal journalists in
Washington, this parade of Establishmentarians is seen as being either too cozy
with power or too wedded to outmoded ways of covering politics. Russert, to be
sure, was part of this group, and while I agree with some of the criticisms thrown
his way (the gotcha questions, the coziness with the powerful, the obscuring of
really important issues by focusing on the horserace), all the tributes made
one remember why Russert seemed so much fresher and less etiolated than this
crowd.
There were certainly problems with Russert’s habit of
focusing obsessively on past statements,
but the fact remains that someone needs to put the spotlight on flip-flopping
(to use a loaded term) and hypocrisy (okay, maybe not hypocrisy). Still, I always felt that by the end of a long
Russert segment, the viewer really did know where Candidate X stood on the
issues. Moreover, where else on network television could you watch an
uninterrupted 30 minute segment with a host who actually let his
guests talk?
Switching from the political to the personal, Russert was an
extremely entertaining performer. Like Matthews, his
obvious love of politics was infectious and charming, and his plain-spoken persona
was surprisingly engaging, if for no other reason than that it did not appear
to be shtick. I was always pleasantly surprised, when talking to people in
Washington, to hear them say that Russert was
actually like that. Similarly, the gigantic amount of publicity generated
by his book on “Big Russ” was slightly less annoying than it should have been because Russert had such genuine love and affection for his father. Clichés
are clichés for a reason, and so I am sure there were quite a few other people
who choked up when they heard David Gregory or some other NBC personality say
that they were shocked at how often Russert would sneak away from the anchor
desk to place a call to his son about the latest sports score.
It is easy (and reasonable) to be cynical about political
life in Washington, but the opening theme of Meet The Press, and Russert’s booming voice which followed it (“Our
issues this Sunday…”) was one of the few things grandiose and
exciting enough to warrant a
small dose of pomposity. Tim Russert will be sorely missed.
--Isaac Chotiner