page 4
daily nebraskan
monday, march 9, 1981
LnJJ
Uncle Walter 's last broadcast inspires nostalgia
It probably won't settle in until late this
afternoon. When Americans come home today
they will find that the "Man Who Came to Din
ner" for the last 19 years really has taken his
leave.
'Those who've made anything of this, have
made too much," said Walter Cronkite on his
last broadcast as anchorman for the "CBS
Livening News" Friday. "Old anchormen don't
fade away, you see, they just come back for
more."
With a twinkle in his eye and a coyishly up
turned smile, Walter passed the baton to the
highly capable, but more austere, approach of
Dan Rather. Walt's probably right, people did
make too much of his stepping down. Some tri
butes sound more like eulogies, and, after all,
as a workhorse and institution at CBS, we will
undoubtedly be seeing that reassurring, pater
nal mug on the screen again before we know it.
But why did arch rival ABC take out full
page ads in major publications to thank Cron
kite for his contributions in the industry?
Though ABC's Roone Arledge has been critical
ly tampering with the foundation that Walter
built, it still is a stirring tribute that gives rise
to the notion that true greatness in one's field
can transcend competition.
Walter started with 15-minute newscasts,
back in the days when network news was treat
ed more like a necessary nuisance and visual
aids were primitive. Perhaps it was the dy
namics of the 1960s that enabled a trustable
hero like Cronkite to emerge. Those first years
of Walter's reign years it might be noted that
saw rugged rating competition with Huntley
and Brinkley on NBC saw man's first ventures
into space, the first televised war, the growth
of effective civil and women's rights move
ments, three shocking assasinations, a mind
boggling growth in technology, and a mass
questioning of all the value the country had
previously upheld. If ever we needed an honest
voice to explain things, this was the time.
I remember watching Walter during this
time, most likely because the "CBS Evening
News" segued "The Flintstones." But neverthe
less his impact was there. He seemed to share
my childhood fascination with the space pro
gram, and he was the unanimous choice as
commentator when the television was wheeled
into the grade-school classroom to view the
launches of the Gemini and Apollo programs.
I also remember viewing the newscast one
day in 1967 when the coy Cronkite introduced
a piece on the emergence of a new subculture
in California, dubbed "hippies." About a year
later I was awakened in a Chicago hotel room
by the television blaring full volume in the next
room. It was an emotional but determinedly
professional Cronkite reporting on the assasina
tion of Robert Kennedy. While on family
vacation in 1969. all frantic timetables were
dropped to find the nearest television set where
Walter, in his most distinguished glory, com
manded our earthly connection with Neil and
Buzz on the moon.
Like many people, my network news view
ing has become sporadic at best. Then why did
people like myself or even less news-interested
persons feel the sense of obligation to catch
Walter's last stand? Part of it comes for the
reason people turned in the last episode of
"The Fugitive," "(iunsmoke" or even "Fscape
from (iilligan's Island," and that is our fascina
tion with finality and transition in the fairy
tale world of television.
Another reason is that Cronkite is the only
person many of us have known in that time
slot, since television started reaching real
saturation levels when Walter began as anchor
man. We tend to become temporarily Hushed
with instant nostalgia at times like this.
The final newscast was actually rather un
eventful and his closing note was the essence of
humbleness. But for this, the first real tele
vision generation, it was that rare event, a
scheduled opportunity to bid farwell to one of
the few institutions the industry has produced.
We may expect a similar, if slightly less rever
ent, treatment when late night television says
goodbye to Johnny Carson.
With all the press Cronkite received of late,
the words "fatherly," "Uncle" and "old
friend" are always close by his name. Well, he
won't be around to bounce us on his knee and
tell us about civil unrest in far-away lands any
more. And as the country crawls off his trusted
lap, one could be excused for turning on the
news tonight and saying. "Hey, it really is a
jungle out there."
Casey McCabe
A midnight stroll through scrambling Manhattan
Why not. You've (.lone it in Corpus Christ i , and you've
done it in Toledo, and you've done it in Beverly Hills.
There's nothing1 that says you can't do it in New York.
So you set out to wander the town at night. It's not
such an exotic pastime, hut it has brought you pleasure
in so many towns so many times before, it lias become
part of your traveling timetable. Just once, before you
leave a place, you head away from the room you have
bought for the night, and walk the streets to see what
you will find."
In New York, though, it feels unusual, Maybe it's be
cause nobody seems to just wander in Manhattan every
one has some place to go, some place specific, and it
always appears as if they're 15 minutes behind, So when
you begin your meandering walk , you feel as if you're the
only one without a destination.
The nicest thing about New York is that it always
makes you feci like such a hillbilly. You figure it has the
same effect on people who've lived here for 20 years
there's something about the town that dwarfs even the
most ambitious and aggressive of men and women. You've
never met anyone yet who doesn't act as if. in some way.
the city is bigger than even their biggest dreams.
Other citties are brawny and appalling. But for all the
time you have spent in Chicago and b)S Angeles and
Atlanta, the palpable difference in New York strikes you
every time. You head for Rockefeller Center, and the
skating rink is lighted in the night. The ice is pure white,
and the skaters cut slices along it as they twirl to the
music coming from the loudspeakers.
You are not alone here There arc others hanging over
the railings, watching, and the men and women on the ice
laugh, a joy on their faces that has as much to do with
where they arc as what they are doing. They could skate
on a frocn pond anywhere in America. hut to do it in the
middle of Manhattan on a chilly night, while all around
them the city is hurrying about its evening business that
brings a special grin .
You stare for awhile, and then you wander on. At a
street corner, as you wait for the light, a man and woman
are arguing. You eavesdrop; they arc from another town,
here on a trip, and their anger is fierce. If you had to
guess, though, you would say that they would be calm by
morning, and that when they do look back on it later, it
will be that "light they had in New York", adding luster
to a commonplace squabble.
This is the one town in America where one really is
best advised to make dinner reservations, no matter how
humble the restaurant he is looking for. You will have
room service later; now you stop in three or four places at
random, and even though they are all crowded, there are
se ts at the bar.
So you order a beer, and lean back and look around
you just as if you wcie in Omaha A beer at each place,
and a smack ot overheard conversation. At one restaurant
a man ami his tamily are waiting m th- bar for their table
to open up in the dining room. He is telling his teenaged
daughter that he bought his watch at Tiffany's in P4(.
Tiffany's, he tells her. will repair only its own watches,
and tomorrow he is going to find out it they will take one
that is more than 30 years old.
He bets they will, he is saying , even though his watch is
old and broken, it is a Tiffany watch, and he says they
will accept it and make it work. His daughter is either
bored or doesn't understand, but the father's message is
clear enough; he was traveling in lMl) and it woi a big
deal when he bought the watch, and now he is traveling,
all this time later, and New York is still a special place to
him. He could have the watch repaired back home, hut he
wouldn't miss taking it into Tiffany's for cish or gold.
You finish your beer at the fourth restaurant, and
when you return to the streets they are still crowded. New
York isn't the only American town that stays crowded at
night, although there aren't many; but this is the only
place where the people behave as if they are still busy at
this late hour. Other places, you will see them slow down
after dark, thev will stroll instead ot scramble, but not
here. I'veryonc seems to have an appointment , and thev
look straight ahead, getting to the next place so they can
have a jump on getting to the next.
There is a concrete plant stand at 50th and Madison,
and you sit on its edge. Several people glance sideways at
you. and you realie that you are the only person who is
just sitting and watching. But that's OK; if you can do it
in Salt Lake City you can do it in New York, and no tine's
going to arrest you. You sit back and look around you.
and it's better than any play you could have selected on
Broadway .
Maybe that's the trick here; for all the attractions the
city brags about, the best one is that you can just sit back
and watch it all for free. I ven that could get old. you
guess, and become something less than special But it's not
going to happen this evening, not on this New York night
(c) 1981 Field Enterprises, Inc.
nebraskan
UPSP 144-080
Editor Kathy Chenault. Manaqmq Editor : Tom Mc Neil. N'w
editor Va! Sainton, Associate news editors Diane Andersen.
Steve Miller, Assistant news editor Bob Lannm. Night nfws
editor Kathy Stokebrand Magame editor Mary Kempkes
Entertainment editor Casey McCabe. Sports editor Lany Sparks.
Art director Dave Luebke. Photoqraphy chief Mark B'ihnqsiev
Assistant photoqraphy chief M.tch Hrdlicka Editorial paqe assist
ant ; Tom Prentiss
Copy editors M.ke Bartels, Sue Brown. Pat Clark, Nancy Ei'"v
Dan Epp. Beth Headntk. Maureen Hutfless, Alice Hrmcek. Jeanne
Mohatt. Janice Pigaqa, Tr;Cia Waters
Business manaqer Anne Shank. Production manaqer K tty
Pol.cky, Advertismq manaqer Art K Small Assistant advertising
manaqer Jeff P,ke
Publications Board chairman Mark Bowen. 473-0212 P"1
fessional adviser Don Walton, 4 73 7301
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