Russert and Russertism
Tim Russert was a tenacious journalist, a proud American, and by all
accounts, a loving son, father, and husband. Whatever issues you might have had with his work, its hard to deny the enduring impact he had on "Meet
The Press." It is his vision for that show, and his commitment to preserving it as an American institution that will be his greatest legacy.
Though I took issue with his journalistic style (and occasional ethical slipperiness), I admired his insistence that continuing a heated political discussion was more important than breaking for commercials, and I came to love his peculiar but endearing quirk of pointing at the camera. I also appreciated the sense of gravity and drama that he brought to Sunday morning shows. Even when I had no plans of watching his stable of guests (Carville, Matlin, Murphy, and Shrum, again?), I like to tune in just to hear the theme play and Russert's baritone voice intone: "Our issues this Sunday..."
Russert deserves to be lauded for maintaining the old-fashioned simplicity of "Meet The Press" (as opposed to the flashier segments and sets of its competitors), no small feat in the corporate-driven world of television news. With few exceptions, Russert did not interview politicians in more relaxed settings and he did not like to edit his interviews. Instead, he put them at a chair at his set (implicitly keeping the home-court advantage on the side of the press and not the pol) and grilled them for ten, twenty, thirty minutes at a time, often without a single break or an edit. His round table segments suffered from staleness, as he largely resisted bringing in younger, fresher voices and instead stuck to his favorite insidery operatives and the op-ed scribes of the Post and the Times.
But at least he resisted the impatient jumpiness of the other Sunday shows (Fox News Sunday and ABC's This Week, I'm looking in your direction), maintaining only one lighter segment, the flashback clip at the end of the show. He was proud of MTP's status as the Sunday show of record, and his old school aesthetic (dowdy graphics, a spartan set, the reairing of grainy black-and-white footage) was part of his deep respect for the past.
But while I mourn the loss of the iconic figure, I fear that the death of Russert will only invigorate and enliven Russertism, the brand of journalism that imitates all of Russert's macho posturing and cheap tricks and yet fails to appreciate his greatest strengths.
The coming flood of encomia will cast him as Edwin R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite rolled into one--it's a safe bet that both those names will show up in his official NYT obit tomorrow. And, to be sure, Russert's combative, needling style had its virtues. But his rise to the top of the DC chattering class unfortunately spawned a crowd of imitators and contributed to the current obsession with theater and trivia that dominates American political journalism.
The moments for which Ezra Klein rightly lauds him are the moments that Russert resisted his usual impulses towards indulging in Beltway clubbiness and sniffing out meaningless gaffes and gotchas. Or, in other words, Russert was best when he resisted Russertism. Although, unlike Victor Frankenstein, he never seemed that troubled by the lurching monster he created and unleashed.
In any case, the man is gone, and the impact of this election will likely be great. I do feel sorry that he will not be around to see the outcome of this election that so clearly excited him. Rest in peace, Russ. Go Bills!
Though I took issue with his journalistic style (and occasional ethical slipperiness), I admired his insistence that continuing a heated political discussion was more important than breaking for commercials, and I came to love his peculiar but endearing quirk of pointing at the camera. I also appreciated the sense of gravity and drama that he brought to Sunday morning shows. Even when I had no plans of watching his stable of guests (Carville, Matlin, Murphy, and Shrum, again?), I like to tune in just to hear the theme play and Russert's baritone voice intone: "Our issues this Sunday..."
Russert deserves to be lauded for maintaining the old-fashioned simplicity of "Meet The Press" (as opposed to the flashier segments and sets of its competitors), no small feat in the corporate-driven world of television news. With few exceptions, Russert did not interview politicians in more relaxed settings and he did not like to edit his interviews. Instead, he put them at a chair at his set (implicitly keeping the home-court advantage on the side of the press and not the pol) and grilled them for ten, twenty, thirty minutes at a time, often without a single break or an edit. His round table segments suffered from staleness, as he largely resisted bringing in younger, fresher voices and instead stuck to his favorite insidery operatives and the op-ed scribes of the Post and the Times.
But at least he resisted the impatient jumpiness of the other Sunday shows (Fox News Sunday and ABC's This Week, I'm looking in your direction), maintaining only one lighter segment, the flashback clip at the end of the show. He was proud of MTP's status as the Sunday show of record, and his old school aesthetic (dowdy graphics, a spartan set, the reairing of grainy black-and-white footage) was part of his deep respect for the past.
But while I mourn the loss of the iconic figure, I fear that the death of Russert will only invigorate and enliven Russertism, the brand of journalism that imitates all of Russert's macho posturing and cheap tricks and yet fails to appreciate his greatest strengths.
The coming flood of encomia will cast him as Edwin R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite rolled into one--it's a safe bet that both those names will show up in his official NYT obit tomorrow. And, to be sure, Russert's combative, needling style had its virtues. But his rise to the top of the DC chattering class unfortunately spawned a crowd of imitators and contributed to the current obsession with theater and trivia that dominates American political journalism.
The moments for which Ezra Klein rightly lauds him are the moments that Russert resisted his usual impulses towards indulging in Beltway clubbiness and sniffing out meaningless gaffes and gotchas. Or, in other words, Russert was best when he resisted Russertism. Although, unlike Victor Frankenstein, he never seemed that troubled by the lurching monster he created and unleashed.
In any case, the man is gone, and the impact of this election will likely be great. I do feel sorry that he will not be around to see the outcome of this election that so clearly excited him. Rest in peace, Russ. Go Bills!




