Walter Cronkite

I knew Walter Cronkite was going to die soon. Before the rash of celebrity deaths (McMahon, Fawcett, et al.), it was reported that he was gravely ill. And yet his pasing yesterday still saddens me.

For some reason, I always knew his birthday, November 4. I always how he felt when his 63rd birthday was the taking of the hostages in Iran.

I was aware of his reporting during World War II. But my first recollection was watching him on a history program called The Twentieth Century, which was on from the time I was four to the time I was eleven; my, I was a geeky kid. I was an avid news watcher, pretty much alternating between Cronkite on CBS and Huntley-Brinkley on NBC, until Walter eventually won out.

I have some specific recollections. While I didn’t see the now-famous announcement of JFK’s death in real time – I was at school – I’ve seen the footage so often that I feel that I did. I was watching CBS News for wall-to-wall coverage of the aftermath (Oswald being shot, the JFK funeral).

When Cronkite went to Viet Nam in early 1968, then came back and declared in an editorial on February 27 that the war “unwinable, LBJ knew he was sunk and declared his decision not to run for re-election a little more than a month later. It, along with Martin Luther King’s opposition to the war, also had a profound effect on my own view of the conflict, which, when I was 14, was vaguely, “It’s an American war and I’m an American”; by the time I was 15, this changed to “What ARE we fighting for?” Speaking of King, it was from Cronkite that I heard the awful news of April 4, 1968.

Cronkite was a great cheerleader for space exploration. I must admit not being totally sold on it. But his enthusiasm for it, which won him NASA’s Ambassador of Exploration Award three years ago, was so infectious that I was almost as excited as he with each new launch.

He was a hoot playing himself on the Mary Tyler Moore Show in February 1974.

After he retired as anchor in 1981, I always made a point of watching him in documentaries. Until recently, he was also host of the Kennedy Center Honors.

In this rash of celebrity deaths, I heard a lot about how people should feel a certain way because they didn’t “know” them personally. (Did we “know” JFK or King? Yet we mourned.) When you’ve let someone into your home through television (or music or whatever), you do feel that you’ve “known” them. Having let Walter Cronkite into my home for almost my entire life, now that I think of it, and in ways of great impact, I mourn his loss.

ROG

ROG

McNamara's Band

I have a strong sense that there’s a whole bunch of younger people know the name Robert McNamara in their history books, if at all. But for me, he was a frustrating man, who, as Secretary of Defense under JFK and LBJ, oversaw the increased involvement by the United States in the Vietnam conflict. (I am loath to call it a war, for as in more current offenses, there was no actual declaration of war, only a Gulf of Tonkin resolution after some dubious circumstances.) It was a war of choice, causing huge divisions in this country, some of which – see the Swiftboating of John Kerry in 2004 – have been slow to heal.

McNamara’s later mea culpa hardly makes up for the harm to so many. He died on July 6 at age 93.

ROG

ROG

10 (More) Things About Me

I’ve been tagged by the Crone Report, who I’ve known since the mid-1970s at college. According to Ms. Report, the rules of the game are thus:

Post 10 random things about yourself.

Choose five people to tag and a reason you chose them and make sure to tell them.

Don’t tag the person who tagged you.

She’s right that I’ve probably done this before; hope I haven’t repeated these (and if so, not too often). These are in chronological order, from oldest to newest.

OK, here goes:

1. I fell down the flight of steps between my grandparents’ apartment and ours when I was three. There’s still a scar there under my lower lip where hair does not grow, giving me soul patch potential before the term was invented.

2. In high school, I was president of our Red Cross club.

3. In May of 1972, the US mined Haiphong harbor, thus, we believed, escalating the Viet Nam conflict. There was a demonstration at the draft board in Kingston, NY, and the board closed in anticipation of our arrival, though it was a peaceful protest. The next day, the front page of the newspaper, the Kingston Freeman, had a picture of me and a couple other people sitting in front of the building. The quality (or reproduction) of the photo was so poor, though, that I didn’t even recognize myself.

4. My college friend Alice and I were hitchhiking from New Paltz to Hornell, NY to visit a friend of ours who had been injured in a fatal car crash. Some guy picked us up west of Binghamton and proceeded to give us a lecture about the sin of miscegenation; we weren’t a couple. We wondered what his reaction would have been if he knew she was a lesbian.

5. As a direct result of the person who tagged me, I went through a brief period of wearing berets. But not red ones.

6. Six women and I went skinny-dipping.

7. I worked as a telemarketer. But in those days, we only called people who had had a relationship with the product; e.g., people whose TV Guide subscription had lapsed or the annual for those people owning encyclopedias.

8. I once drove a car from Schenectady to Albany, about 10 miles, without a license or even learner’s permit. The owner of the car was too drunk to drive. (The statue of limitations on this has passed.)

9. I saw Anita Baker perform at the Palace Theatre in Albany in the late 1980s. Afterwards, my friend Karen introduced me to her – very pleasant woman – and we were allowed to go backstage, where boxing champ Mike Tyson and “Ironweed” star Jack Nicholson were hanging out. (The story of Ironweed by William Kennedy was based on Albany, and part of it was filmed in the city.)

10. I did not do it often in any case, but the last time I drank alcohol thinking that I might get inebriated was on my 39th birthday. My friend Marion, who was in the choir and a book club with me, died on March 4 of that year of cancer. Her husband asked me to be a pallbearer and the funeral was on March 7. Worst. Birthday. Ever.

OK, the dreaded who to tag:
Eddie, so he can get out of the rhythm of posting music videos;
Librarian 2008, because she needs to put more personal stuff on her blog;
Uthaclena, because I’m curious whether any of ours will intersect;
Kelly, because she seems always game for a game; and
Anthony, because it would give me an opportunity to know him better.

ROG

ROG