As one NPR fan to another.
Mourning 'Edition': NPR is killing its good image
Robert P. Laurence
National Public Radio, we hardly knew you.
We thought we knew you, but as Humphrey Bogart said in "Casablanca," we were misinformed.
With the decision to elbow Bob Edwards off the anchor chair of "Morning Edition," and the patronizing, unresponsive answers it's given to protests from listeners, NPR has inadvertently revealed a new image of itself, and not the image it wants.
With "Public" as its middle name, NPR until now has seemed like an institution the public could trust, or at least relate to. It seemed like a human, possibly even humane, sort of place.
It was an island of civility, knowledge and reason in the crass, vulgarian world of commercial broadcasting. It offered the best in American radio, combining high-quality programming with a lack of dumb, noisy commercials.
We always knew it had to be a big operation, with reporters flying around the world and an army of worker bees supporting them, but it didn't act like one.
It was a big operation that seemed in touch with its audience, one to which an ordinary person could relate. And the fact that listeners help support NPR with their annual checks seemed to give them an extra connection, not necessarily a feeling of ownership but a sense of membership, a feeling that they had a stake in what goes on, maybe even some small say.
No more.
Now, NPR is acting like any other big, powerful, dumb, clumsy, unfeeling, implacable, stonewalling, soulless bureaucracy that doesn't know or care what its constituents need or want.
Oh, NPR will still be the best place for a smart grown-up to hear the news on the radio. "Morning Edition" will still be immeasurably more rewarding than the drivel of morning TV. There's no doubt about that, even with Bob Edwards no longer at the anchor desk.
But it won't be the same NPR, not in the hearts and minds of its listeners and contributors.
Edwards, who apparently is being sent off to report on various stories for various programs, has in his nearly 25 years as the sole anchor of "Morning Edition" earned a unique stature at NPR. He's become NPR's Walter Cronkite, a news anchor whose skills and talents are unexcelled anywhere, a consistent ratings winner and a treasured icon to NPR's listeners.
But the executives don't seem to know that. Or they don't care.
Failing to appreciate or understand the stature Edwards attained, or his importance to the institution, they want to make him another of NPR's several interchangeable, instantly forgettable reporter-anchors, and they're deaf to dissenting voices.
There has been speculation that the plan is to introduce a two-anchor format, that some local stations want NPR to be "more competitive" with other news broadcasters, a wish that apparently is being translated into a misguided attempt to be more like the competition.
But NPR's strength, what makes it so valuable, is its uniqueness; NPR covers the news with a depth, perspective and understanding unmatched anywhere else in broadcast news. It really doesn't have any competition.
Is the plan more like CNN or Fox News, jumping on every nonstory, near story and press conference of the day?
Let's hope not. That's not what we need or want from NPR.
The suits at NPR are answering the protests of listeners with statements on the NPR.org Web site, and with automated e-mail responses that say only that nobody cares what you think.
"Thank you for sharing your comments about Bob Edwards' move to a new position," says a response from Rodney Huey, VP for communications. "I am pleased to hear of your strong support for Bob ... I hope you will continue to tune in to NPR to hear Bob on a variety of news programs."
Jay Kernis, the senior VP for programming who made the decision, issued an equally maddening one-answer-fits-all statement. "We deeply appreciate that you care so much," says Kernis. "Without passion such as as yours, public radio would not succeed. Thanks for listening."
In other words, "There, there. Don't worry your pretty little head about these complicated matters you can't understand."
Edwards, who in earlier interviews said he was concerned that his salary might be cut, is sounding like a beaten-down victim of a Soviet purge, proclaiming his loyalty to Comrade Stalin as he's led off to the Gulag, grateful that it's not the firing squad. He's says he's looking "forward to the new challenges ahead of me and continuing to be a significant part of NPR and the amazing program lineup."
NPR used to be your friend (or so you thought).
Now it's your HMO.
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