Remembering "Mr. Cronkite"

When I sat down to write today, I had an entirely different topic in mind but the news waits for no woman so there’s something far more important for today.

After more than six decades as a journalist, Walter Cronkite died at the age of 92. Famously dubbed “the most trusted man in America,” he brought America the news of John F. Kennedy’s death, the first spacewalk, and the deaths of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy. He is said to have helped broker the invitation that led to a peace treaty between Israel and Egypt and to have turned the U.S. opinion on the Vietnam War.

Legendary CBS newsman Walter Cronkite speaks at a ceremony at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington celebrating the 35th anniversary of Apollo 11 in 2004. Photo | NASA/Bill Ingalls

The tribute in the Philadelphia Inquirer brought me to tears. Along with describing all of his varied accomplishments, the writers referred to him as “Mr. Cronkite” throughout. For me this was the utmost mark of respect—breaking with AP Style and expending an extra four characters each reference to refer to him as Mr. Cronkite.

But my discussions of this article, of his presence in American journalism—and international journalism, in fact—and of the respect given to him by other journalists led me down a different road than I expected. More times than not, I heard about how journalists no longer live up to the high standards set by journalists like Mr. Cronkite.

For one, journalists no longer talk to people with respect, I heard. “When was the last time journalists referred to anyone as ‘Mr. So-and-so?” queried my father. And the president doesn’t count, he says. “He’s the president of this country. He deserves to be called ‘President Obama,’ not ‘Mr. Obama.’”

In another conversation since the death of Mr. Cronkite, I heard how journalists today just don’t care about the people behind the stories.

A high school football player had been pulled from the quarterback position had on his high school’s varsity team. He wasn’t playing well enough. A journalist published the coach’s less-than-stellar comments along with her own analysis of the quarterback’s weaknesses. The young man was crushed. When the journalist arrived at the next game, the coach headed for her like a bull for a red cape. She just didn’t care about the young man whom she so ruthlessly covered.

What’s changed in journalism? With the explosion of bloggers, the introduction of online editions, digital media and new social media like Twitter and Facebook, and the constant newsroom layoffs, the news force—the number of journalists left—is shrinking. We all have had to take on new roles to keep the presses running. But in our rush to conquer this new online world, have we lost what makes us journalists?

I joined the profession to tell true stories, to explore the truth behind political hype and to learn about the community’s thoughts and values. I bet a lot of other journalists came onboard for the same reasons.

For my part, I’ll admit it: I’m guilty. As a journalist, I like to use people’s first names. Maybe I feel like it breeds familiarity. Maybe it’s because I’m horrible with names and it’s easier to remember one than two. Maybe it’s generational. Maybe it’s laziness. To tell you the truth, I just don’t know. But if it matters that much, I’ll refer to everyone as “Mr.” or “Mrs.” And I’ll try to remember just how much people care.