And That's the Way it.... Was: Retirement of Walter Cronkite and the death of the Fairness Doctrine

Dear Nattering Nabobs and other News Neighbors:

The other day I saw a meme using a photograph of Walter Cronkite. The text pined the days when anchormen read the news and the nation tuned in and trusted. The comments that followed implied a moral decline among those overseeing broadcast journalism; we were just better people when there were only four networks (I include PBS’ MacNeil/Lehrer news report even though it was a latecomer in 1975). But the death of trustworthy reporting comes with a history.

President Calvin Coolidge championed The Radio Act of 1927, when the AM radio band had become so cluttered with stations that transmitter operators demanded a system of frequency guarantee. The Radio Act created the Federal Radio Commission (FRC), a government agency charged with regularizing frequency control. The system created a taxable market of an unlimited supply of airwaves by limiting the number of broadcast licenses, which regulated the location and transmission power of each station.

Recognizing the potential for powerful monopolies to dominate the airwaves, the FRC (which became the FCC in 1935) created community standards to which corporations needed to comply if they wished to renew their broadcast license. The broadcasters, perceived to be public trustees of their radio bands, were subject to standards of responsible broadcasting. Some standards restricted language and content (see George Carlin’s Seven Words…); other standards provided guidelines for presentation of controversial topics.

Chief among these standards was the fairness doctrine of 1949, which stipulated that controversial issues must be presented by broadcasters in an “honest, equitable and balanced” manner. The doctrine also stipulated that there be a clear division between news and editorial. Those from Chicago likely remember the shift in format for Walter Jacobson’s Perspective segment, clearly signifying to viewers by his taking off his suit jacket that this was Walter’s opinion and not news.

The days of Walter Cronkite trustworthiness ended just six years after his 1981 retirement. In 1987 Congress passed a bill to renew the fairness doctrine as part of an FCC reevaluation. Ronald Reagan vetoed the bill, claiming it had a chilling effect on free speech. Shortly after the veto, the venerable network of Edward Murrow, Eric Sevareid, Bill Downs and Walter Cronkite eliminated its news division, placing it under the CBS vice-president of entertainment. 

With similar reformations of newsrooms across the spectrum of broadcast journalism, the external standards of trustworthiness ended. In addition to the standards of honesty, equality and balance, the veto also rejected the requirement of equal time in the presentation of political candidates. In 2004, this allowed Sinclair Broadcasting to air through its outlets in over 40 markets Stolen Honor, a documentary critical of John Kerry’s military record, less than three weeks before the presidential election. Although the documentary was later discredited, the broadcast was permitted without notation as editorial or a need for response.

As it stands now, the line between information and editorial is completely erased, and news groups are free to be as partisan as their owners choose. This, I believe, contributes to an atmosphere where politics now divides more deeply than religion, but that’s a musing for another Monday. Turns out, for now, Walter can leave his jacket on.

Freely editorializing without rebuttal, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor

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Dear Art Dealers, 

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Dear Busybodies, 

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Dear Political Patrons:

I’m not a Chicago native, but I’ve spent nearly three times as many years as a resident of the Windy City as I had in my hometown of Omaha, and all of that time on the South Side (if one counts Hyde Park as the South Side). When I arrived in Hyde Park, Michael Bilandic was Mayor, and the fact that he was Croatian was of little consequence to my newfound awareness of Chicago politics. The Irish were kings of the South Side ever since Mayor Richard J. Daley’s mother, Lillian, announced that she wanted more for her son than being a policeman. Richard J. didn’t disappoint.

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Dear Collective Clergy:

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A Little Love Note to a Church

Dear, Dear Friends:

Letters from the pastor are traditionally epistles of reprimand. Seeing oneself as constrained by a stiff-necked people, the pastor attempts to write the congregation into submission. Confident that the only limit to their ministerial wonderfulness is spiritual stubbornness, they dedicate their pens and preaching to browbeat the very congregation to which they are called. I sometimes wonder how church members tolerate such dismissive paternalism. There must be something irresistible in the friendships, or the choir rehearsals, or the coffee that brings people back to endure their weekly scolding. I have on occasion, submitted my congregations to such smug condescending judgmentalism, and now looking back, I am sorry. My regret arises not only from the absurdity of ‘biting the hands that feed me,’ but

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The centerpiece of our community in both energy and focus is our gathering

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Pointless Performative Posting

Dear Fatigued Faithful:

Now that the state of Louisiana has codified posting the Ten Commandments in every public school classroom, attention has been given to commandments 7 (Thou shalt not commit adultery) and 9 (Thou shalt not bear false witness) and whether or not the politicians who endorse the policy live up to these commands. Those who defend the posting of the Decalogue claim it is a bedrock document of American law, and as such a piece of history without religious prejudice. My musing over this issue, and the recent state school superintendent of Oklahoma mandating the teaching of the Bible in schools, has less to do with the documents themselves and more to do with the qualifications of those who will interpret their meaning for young minds.

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Requiem For The Horde

Dear Bugged Ones: 

As many as 1.5 million cicadas per acre emerged a few weeks ago in our region of Illinois. With great anticipation, people dreaded the endless sound of their mating screech. It was amazing how finding a single cicada in the house and courting him outside could fill the air with so much noise. While larger than most bugs, it still seemed to emit more sound than its size could resonate. The crunching sound too—of thousands of exoskeletons littering the sidewalks—created its own fascinating cringe.  

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It will be 2041 when our brood emerges again. If I’m still around, I’ll be 80.

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Dear Keepers of the Faith:

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Cleaning our Plates

Dear Dinner Guests,

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Greetings, Praying Parents:

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A Recipe for Reconciliation Has a Starting Point

Dear Non-Conference Non-Attendees:

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Thoughts and Prayers or Thoughtful Prayer?

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A Taxing Responsibility

Dear Taxing Filers:

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Keep Looking Up, at least until you're tired

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Dear Ones:

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With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor