Mike Wallace: the legendary '60 Minutes' career that almost wasn't
Mike Wallace, who died this weekend, considered another path after covering the 1968 presidential campaign. But in the end, he set a high standard for serious long-form investigative journalism.
Mike Wallace, who died this weekend, considered another path after covering the 1968 presidential campaign. But in the end, he set a high standard for serious long-form investigative journalism.
News flash: Mike Wallace, the veteran CBS newsman who died this weekend, almost chose a berth in Richard Nixon鈥檚 White House over the just-launching 鈥60 Minutes.鈥
Mr. Wallace had been covering the 1968 presidential campaign and Mr. Nixon offered him a job as his press secretary, says Fordham University media and communication professor Beth Knobel, who is also Wallace鈥檚 co-author on the book 鈥淗eat and Light.鈥 鈥淗e thought about it long and hard because he really liked Nixon,鈥 says Professor Knobel. 鈥淏ut in the end, he chose 鈥60 Minutes,鈥 and the rest is history.鈥
This little-known brush with GOP affiliation may come as a surprise to many who over the years have come to presume a liberal bias in mainstream broadcast news shows, such as 鈥60 Minutes,鈥 Knobel says. But in many ways, this moment is 鈥渆mblematic of the values he stood for,鈥 she says. 鈥淢ike didn鈥檛 believe in wearing his politics or his personal opinions on his sleeve,鈥 she says.
During his decades-long career as a television journalist, adds Knobel, 鈥淢ike was committed to digging out the facts and presenting them to people to make up their own minds.鈥
Wallace鈥檚 career, she notes, was built on years of feisty, confrontational interviews 鈥搑anging from the 1982 tangle with Gen. William Westmoreland over whether the military had deliberately misled Americans about troop reductions in Vietnam, to the moment he told Iran鈥檚 Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini that Egyptian President Anwar Sadat considered him a lunatic. Wallace, she says, understood the importance of drama, or what he called, 鈥渉eat,鈥 as well as the light of objective information. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 where we got the title of [our] book,鈥 she adds.
The CBS newsman was always impeccably prepared, and he set a high standard for serious, long-form investigative journalism, as 鈥60 Minutes鈥 continues to practice to this day, says Leonard Shyles, communication professor at Villanova University in Pennsylvania.
From a critical perspective, he notes, it is not a stretch to assert that Barbara Walters was influenced by Wallace. Her long-form celebrity interviews were in the style of Wallace in many ways. And Geraldo Rivera did his investigative work in war zones and for other topics 鈥渇ollowing in Wallace's (perhaps larger) footsteps,鈥 Professor Shyles writes in an e-mail. 鈥淒id they have the gravitas of Wallace? Arguably no. But at times they reached for his gravitas.鈥
No doubt, Wallace set an example for the generation of journalists that followed him, says Lee Kamlet, dean of the School of Communications at Quinnipiac University in Hamden, Conn. He showed them the importance of being tenacious about seeking interviews and information, says the former NBC news producer via e-mail, adding, 鈥渁nd to not be afraid to ask questions that made their subjects uncomfortable.鈥
Wallace was a 鈥渇orce of personality, though he wasn鈥檛 a warm personality,鈥 says Dean Kamlet. 鈥淗e growled. He sneered. And yet, there was a certain 鈥榚veryman鈥 quality about him. People tuned in to 鈥60 Minutes鈥 in large part because he was their champion, exposing wrongs that had affected their own lives.鈥
However, notes Shyles, Wallace鈥檚 involvement with 鈥渃heckbook journalism鈥 鈥 such as the H.R. Haldeman interview 鈥渇or which CBS paid $100,000鈥 鈥 was a misstep. Wallace later regretted it, saying it was 鈥渁 mistake to engage in checkbook journalism.鈥
The deaths of iconic broadcast journalism figures such as Wallace and, a few years ago, Walter Cronkite give the journalism field a chance to take stock of how its craft is being practiced and to make improvements based on the example set by these giants, says Ronald Bishop, communication professor at Drexel University in Philadelphia. However, he says, these celebrations have the markings of what one sociologist calls a 鈥渟tatus degradation ceremony.鈥 Professor Bishop explains in an e-mail, 鈥淭he journalist is revered, but the approach to the work is subtly marginalized, treated as obsolete.鈥
Indeed, Wallace鈥檚 name hardly registers in the classrooms of incoming journalism students, says Knobel of Fordham. 鈥淲hen I mention his name to freshmen, I get blank stares.鈥 While she sees many of her students aspiring to engage in serious journalism, the time and money that made Wallace鈥檚 achievements possible are rare today.
鈥淲ho gives journalists the months Mike had to do serious investigations anymore?鈥 she asks. Every day, she says, we hear about more news outlets working with skeleton crews on tight deadlines with less and less money devoted to serious content.
Still, Wallace鈥檚 legacy will endure in at least one way, says Robert Thompson, founder of the Bleier Center for Television and Popular Culture at Syracuse University in New York. 鈥淲allace went a long way in demonstrating that news could work as prime-time entertainment,鈥 he says via e-mail, adding that his interviews were like theater, often more compelling than the fictional theater on other channels. 鈥淭hat legacy,鈥 he adds, 鈥渉as been both a blessing and a curse to television journalism.鈥