By MERVIN BLOCK
May 2002
Andy Rooney is not just another pretty face. Not only is he funny on his fanny (sitting at his desk), but he’s also funny on his feet.
We attended a breakfast in midtown Manhattan the other day that was billed as a conversation with the executive editor of the New York Times, Howell Raines.
When I say we attended, I regret to report that Andy and I arrived separately, sat separately and left separately. But we both attended the breakfast, sponsored by Columbia University’s J-school.
The conversation was led by the First Amendment lawyer Floyd Abrams. He questioned Raines for 40 minutes or so, then invited questions from the audience of about 150 people, mostly media professionals. Questions dealt with the Times’s coverage of the war in Afghanistan, the war in the Mideast and other weighty matters.
Then Andy piped up. I hadn’t taken a notebook, a tape recorder or even much of a memory, but Andy rose to his feet and asked Raines, as best I can recall, “How many words are in today’s Times?” And without waiting for an answer, Andy asked, in quick succession: “How many words a minutes can you read? How much time do you spend every day reading the Times? How much of the Times don’t you read?”
Andy didn’t get answers, but he did get a lot of laughs, especially at my table, particularly at my seat. Raines said he reads one word at a time but acknowledged that he doesn’t read every word.
To satisfy your curiosity, I phoned the Times to find out how many words the paper prints on an average weekday: around 250,000. (That’s about a thousand times as many words as you’ll find in a network evening newscast.)
Later, it occurred to me that Andy’s questions are relevant to us as writers. His performance on the tube–and off–demonstrates once again that he thinks and speaks like a newsman with a lot of experience and a working mind. He’s original and unorthodox, he raises thought-provoking questions, and when he writes, he’s not handcuffed, or mindcuffed, by
cliches. You’d never find him writing “a bloodless coup,” “officials huddled behind closed doors,” or any other decrepit cliches clogging so much copy.
Sometimes Andy strikes viewers as quirky or cranky, but he finds topics and angles that never crossed our mind or that the rest of us overlook or don’t know how to tackle. And he pursues them with more than whimsy: he brings to bear an acute ability to puncture pretense, pomposity and the prosaic. I don’t know whether the prosaic is puncturable, but he does push through it and way past it.
Reporters shouldn’t ask an interviewee multiple questions because she can choose which one (or two) to answer, then ignore or forget the others. But Andy was making a point–that the Times can be overwhelming, perhaps even more than its own boss can handle. And Andy also had a little fun, made a little mischief, and drew a lot of laughs. Not that our goal as newswriters is to seek laughs. Our goal is to make our scripts crisp, clear and conversational. But each one of us can take a few lessons from Andy:
Be your own man–or woman (but not both). Think for yourself, say it in your own words, don’t hesitate to take a different approach, know what you’re talking about, get more experience and, along the way, learn from your betters. (You’d better.) Don’t copy anyone else’s style or follow in anyone’s footsteps. And be yourself. But better your self. End of sermon.
C-Span taped the event and almost certainly will broadcast it sooner or later, maybe sooner and later. So you can watch Raines, Abrams (yes, “First Amendment lawyer” is part of his name; it’s recorded on his birth certificate) and Andy in his cameo. That means you can enjoy everything but the breakfast itself. After all, you can’t have your tape and eat it too.
By MERVIN BLOCK
May 2002
Andy Rooney is not just another pretty face. Not only is he funny on his fanny (sitting at his desk), but he’s also funny on his feet.
We attended a breakfast in midtown Manhattan the other day that was billed as a conversation with the executive editor of the New York Times, Howell Raines.
When I say we attended, I regret to report that Andy and I arrived separately, sat separately and left separately. But we both attended the breakfast, sponsored by Columbia University’s J-school.
The conversation was led by the First Amendment lawyer Floyd Abrams. He questioned Raines for 40 minutes or so, then invited questions from the audience of about 150 people, mostly media professionals. Questions dealt with the Times’s coverage of the war in Afghanistan, the war in the Mideast and other weighty matters.
Then Andy piped up. I hadn’t taken a notebook, a tape recorder or even much of a memory, but Andy rose to his feet and asked Raines, as best I can recall, “How many words are in today’s Times?” And without waiting for an answer, Andy asked, in quick succession: “How many words a minutes can you read? How much time do you spend every day reading the Times? How much of the Times don’t you read?”
Andy didn’t get answers, but he did get a lot of laughs, especially at my table, particularly at my seat. Raines said he reads one word at a time but acknowledged that he doesn’t read every word.
To satisfy your curiosity, I phoned the Times to find out how many words the paper prints on an average weekday: around 250,000. (That’s about a thousand times as many words as you’ll find in a network evening newscast.)
Later, it occurred to me that Andy’s questions are relevant to us as writers. His performance on the tube–and off–demonstrates once again that he thinks and speaks like a newsman with a lot of experience and a working mind. He’s original and unorthodox, he raises thought-provoking questions, and when he writes, he’s not handcuffed, or mindcuffed, by
cliches. You’d never find him writing “a bloodless coup,” “officials huddled behind closed doors,” or any other decrepit cliches clogging so much copy.
Sometimes Andy strikes viewers as quirky or cranky, but he finds topics and angles that never crossed our mind or that the rest of us overlook or don’t know how to tackle. And he pursues them with more than whimsy: he brings to bear an acute ability to puncture pretense, pomposity and the prosaic. I don’t know whether the prosaic is puncturable, but he does push through it and way past it.
Reporters shouldn’t ask an interviewee multiple questions because she can choose which one (or two) to answer, then ignore or forget the others. But Andy was making a point–that the Times can be overwhelming, perhaps even more than its own boss can handle. And Andy also had a little fun, made a little mischief, and drew a lot of laughs. Not that our goal as newswriters is to seek laughs. Our goal is to make our scripts crisp, clear and conversational. But each one of us can take a few lessons from Andy:
Be your own man–or woman (but not both). Think for yourself, say it in your own words, don’t hesitate to take a different approach, know what you’re talking about, get more experience and, along the way, learn from your betters. (You’d better.) Don’t copy anyone else’s style or follow in anyone’s footsteps. And be yourself. But better your self. End of sermon.
C-Span taped the event and almost certainly will broadcast it sooner or later, maybe sooner and later. So you can watch Raines, Abrams (yes, “First Amendment lawyer” is part of his name; it’s recorded on his birth certificate) and Andy in his cameo. That means you can enjoy everything but the breakfast itself. After all, you can’t have your tape and eat it too.