![]() | ![]() | ![]() |
| |||||||
| Forums | Register | Groups | Awards | Arcade | Pets | T-Bucks / T-Store | Invite Your Friends | All Albums | Projects | Blogs | Mark Forums Read |
| News Articles Discussions about articles pulled from websites that include news, sports, entertainment, politics etc. |
![]() |
| | LinkBack | Thread Tools |
| | #1 (permalink) |
| Racy Ol' Lady ![]() | <DIV>The Anchor-Historian Signs Off America will miss Tom Brokaw. Wednesday, December 1, 2004 12:00 a.m. EST NEW YORK--At 5:30 or so on the morning of Nov. 3, NBC's chief anchor looked into the camera to address that part of the election-night audience that was still awake to say a few words. "Address" is too formal a term, perhaps, to describe what Tom Brokaw was about in those few moments as he delivered a kind of thanks and farewell to viewers on the last election he would cover in the anchor's chair. Still, there could be no doubt that the brief commentary delivered by the impossibly fresh-looking Mr. Brokaw had to do with matters above and beyond a personal farewell. Along the way, he took the opportunity, that morning after the election, to say that the results might be in dispute (as they still were at the time), but that, in the system under which Americans were privileged to live, we were as ever, secure in the knowledge it would all be resolved. There were, he pointed out, no tanks in the streets, no troops required. A viewer or two might have been inclined to retort that there would have been, in the same circumstances, no tanks in the streets in England, either, and a few other countries, but it hardly mattered. Most people would have understood his meaning, particularly those acquainted with his first book, "The Greatest Generation" (1998)--a work in which, its calm narrative voice notwithstanding, there beats a steady undertone of wonderment at the Americans who had, at such cost, gone to war, fought and endured, unsung, and then gone on to build new lives. Its author's marveling tone encompassed a truth too obvious to need spelling out: namely, that the greatness of the great generation reflects the nation from which it came. That consciousness, and a bottomless capacity to absorb the experiences of those former combatants--deeds of valor nearly inconceivable, heard in the quiet of peacetime lives, or memories of wartime's terror and suffering--propelled him into a second career as a writer after 38 years in journalism, 21 of them as anchor of NBC's "Nightly News." In this, as in his television journalism, he's been abetted by an invaluable asset not notably widespread in the profession. That would be his talent for listening--listening of a distinctly self-effacing kind, while preserving his own strong journalistic presence. No small feat, that. Still, nothing seems to have been as valuable to him, in his quest to portray the World War II generation, as that avid determination of his to hear it all: all the details, all the lives and all the deeds, to grasp what it must have been like to be there, on those gliders, those invasion boats, those shores. There is a tireless urgency about the portraits in "The Greatest Generation"--the tone of a reporter who has gathered volumes about a subject that has him by the throat, and could listen to a lot more. Forever. One saw this aspect of Mr. Brokaw way back, in his reporting on the veterans of the Normandy landings. The first of the two much-covered commemorations--the 40th anniversary of the invasion, observed in June 1984--had an electrifying effect on American audiences. These viewers included members of the youth culture, generally considered well educated, in the early '80s, if they could manage to remember whether the Americans had been fighting the Japanese or the British in World War II. Suddenly, for a full week, the TV screens were filled with the great invasion, stories about the 5,000 ships, with interviews and testaments about the preparations for Overlord. Above all, there were the stories of those who'd fought their way to the beaches in the first wave, the Rangers dauntlessly climbing the sheer cliffs. Young reporters at TV stations watched in amazement, more than one told me, as they heard the details, most for the first time, some moved to tears. They had had little idea of any of this. The D-Day anniversary coverage had delivered an education, with impact. In the middle of it all, conducting his interviews, was Mr. Brokaw, on whom, perhaps, the impact of this event, whose history he knew well, was as great as anyone hearing of it all for the first time. So it seemed as one watched the NBC film showing him among these now aging men walking on Omaha Beach--Harry Garton, of Pennsylvania, legs blown off by a land mine, who had to lean on the journalist's shoulder to navigate the dunes. Gino Merli, Medal of Honor winner, who had held on to his machine gun, covering the withdrawal of other Americans even as the Germans overran his position. He would end up killing 50 enemy attackers. For most journalists conducting these interviews, it seemed enough to get the veterans of D-Day to share whatever feelings they would. It was probably true of Mr. Brokaw, too. Still, watching him, one had the sense, in the midst of the most diffident of his queries, of a wish for more. The correspondent talked to Leonard Lomell, head of the Ranger unit that scaled the cliffs of Pointe-du-Hoc, looking for answers, as always, to the same kind of questions: How is it done, what was it to be here--and, implicitly--how is such courage born? Climbing cliffs, in the face of the murderous fire from above, comrades dying left and right? There could be no answer to that last, of course--no satisfactory one. Which did not prevent Mr. Brokaw from going on to become a historian of sorts for this generation--men capable of the highest valor, performed at frightful cost, because it had to be done. A television audience of 10.3 million saw the NBC documentary, "Desperate Days in Blue John Canyon," reported by Tom Brokaw, about mountain climber Aaron Ralston, who had to cut off his arm to free himself when he was trapped in a slot canyon in the wilds of Utah. In this saga, which aired in September, we found Mr. Brokaw, as ever intent on searching out the answers to certain questions, familiar concerns--all having to do with the nature of character, survival, courage. So expert a self-effacing interrogator has he become, by now, one hardly noticed that the anchor was inside the terrifying canyon all during the re-enactment, or for that matter the way he rapelled down the side of the cliff to get out. All focus remained on the film's subject. Mr. Brokaw will be saying his goodbye as NBC anchor tonight. He has no plans, he informed me recently, to go off to a home for old anchors and sit in a lap robe. He will doubtless have plenty to do. We will miss him. http://www.opinionjournal.com/medialog/?id=110005963
__________________ "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything." -- Mark Twain [Samuel Langhorne Clemens] (1835-1910) MOTM, Jan 2005, Aug 2007 Golden Cookie Award, 2005. Aug 2006 Perv of the Month Perv. Outreach Award, 2007 |
| | |
| | #2 (permalink) | |
| Banned ![]() | Can't speak for the rest of the nation, but I know I will miss Tom Brokaw. From the time I was 9 years old and he was in L.A., Tom Brokaw was a part of my family's dinner table. Friendly, folksy, but matter-of-fact. Enjoy your retirement, Tom - but not too much!!! Quote:
| |
| | |
![]() |
| Bookmarks |
| Thread Tools | |
| |
Similar Threads | ||||
| Thread | Thread Starter | Forum | Replies | Last Post |
| [News Feed] Miss Alabama Crowned Miss America | Hannibal | News Articles | 0 | 09-19-2004 14:00 |
| [News Feed] Miss America Crowned | Hannibal | News Articles | 0 | 09-19-2004 14:00 |
| [News Feed] Miss Alabama Crowned Miss America | Hannibal | News Articles | 0 | 09-19-2004 14:00 |
| [News Feed] Miss Alabama Crowned Miss America, Wins $50,000 | Hannibal | News Articles | 0 | 09-19-2004 02:00 |
| [News Feed] Miss Alabama Crowned Miss America, Wins $50,000 | Hannibal | News Articles | 0 | 09-19-2004 02:00 |
![]() | ![]() | ![]() |