"I Was Trained to Ask Questions"

By Richard Zoglin

The scene on the floor of the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago was chaotic, and Dan Rather, naturally, was in the middle of it. When CBS cameras located their roving floor reporter, he was involved in a shoving match with security guards. "Take your hands off me unless you plan to arrest me!" Rather shouted just before disappearing behind a mass of bodies. He popped back up seconds later, trying, between gasps, to explain the incident to Anchorman Walter Cronkite. "I'm sorry to be out of breath," said Rather, "but somebody belted me in the stomach during that."

Even then, Dan Rather had a nose for trouble. But it was the sort of trouble that was good for the career of an ambitious young TV reporter climbing steadily up the network ladder. Rather, at 56, is now at the very top of that ladder, anchorman for the CBS Evening News and possibly the most powerful TV journalist in America. But his emotional, frequently combative style has also made him the most controversial. Rather's heated encounter with George Bush last week was just the latest in a barrage of storms, big and small, that seem to engulf him with the regularity of spring squalls on the plains of his native Texas.

No TV anchorman has ever aroused such passion. For conservatives who remember his days as President Nixon's nemesis, Rather is the very embodiment of what they perceive as the media's liberal bias. When Senator Jesse Helms, the right-wing Republican from North Carolina, launched a campaign in 1985 to take over CBS, he urged supporters with pointed glee to buy up CBS stock and "become Dan Rather's boss." Many TV news traditionalists are no fonder of Rather: he is too high-pitched, too image conscious, too well paid.

Even Rather's fans frequently find him mystifying -- never more so than last September, when he became broadcasting's most famous missing person. Miffed that CBS coverage of a U.S. Open tennis match was cutting into his evening newscast, Rather abruptly walked off the set just before the network switched to the news, inadvertently forcing the CBS nationwide signal to go black for six minutes. The incident renewed dark suspicions that Rather is too high- strung and emotionally unstable to be running a network newscast. Asked the London Times: "Is Dan Rather, bishop of the nation's news business, losing his marbles?"

A bit of British overstatement, to be sure, but Rather does seem oddly prone to bizarre scrapes both onscreen and off. In November 1980, while still a correspondent for CBS's 60 Minutes, Rather hopped into a Chicago taxicab and headed for an interview with Studs Terkel. When the driver couldn't find Terkel's house, an argument ensued, and, according to Rather, the cabby held him hostage while speeding recklessly through the city streets. Rather filed a disorderly conduct charge but subsequently dropped it.

Six years later, Rather was walking along Park Avenue on Manhattan's Upper East Side when, as he told police later, a pair of strange men attacked and beat him. One of them asked the unfathomable question: "Kenneth, what is the frequency?" The incident -- still unexplained -- provided grist for talk-show wisecracks for weeks.

Rather's behavior as an anchorman too has sometimes seemed inexplicable. In an interview during last summer's Iran-contra hearings, he peppered former CIA Chief William Colby with questions about the rumor -- taken seriously by almost no one else -- that the late CIA director William Casey was not really dead. In August, when former ABC Newsman Charles Glass escaped from terrorists holding him hostage in Lebanon, Rather sounded a jarring note of skepticism, referring to Glass as a "young American who says he was a hostage." ABC Nightline Anchor Ted Koppel called the characterization "beneath contempt."

Rather has never seemed completely comfortable in the anchor chair. A courtly and painstakingly polite man in person, he seems stiff and tense on camera. Even his attempts at spontaneity and good humor look programmed. One week he tried ending his broadcast with the sign-off "Courage"; widespread derision forced him to drop it after three nights. Walter Cronkite, Rather's predecessor, was calm and reassuring, an avuncular figure to the nation. Rather seems tightly coiled and uneasy, an eccentric cousin capable of almost anything.

The Bush flare-up was hardly in the same category as Rather's more embarrassing gaffes. At worst it was a case of a reporter getting carried away in the heat of an admittedly intense encounter. With Bush on the attack from the outset, and the clock ticking away on the live interview, Rather pressed hard, and legitimately, for answers. Although he appeared agitated, his questions were informed, coherent and to the point. Even his response to Bush's remark about the six-minute walkout was deft under pressure. "I think you'll agree," he said after a few seconds, "that your qualifications for President . . . ((are)) more important than what you just referred to." Only with his abrupt ending did Rather appear snappish and rude.

The shock waves set off by the interview seemed magnified simply because Rather was involved. "Dan leaps out like a tiger, and some people don't like that," says ABC Correspondent Ann Compton. "He is a lightning rod for the American people who believe the press is rude." CBS stations around the country were besieged by phone callers criticizing Rather (though pro and con opinions became more evenly divided as the week went on). A Times-Mirror Gallup poll conducted Wednesday showed that Rather's favorable rating among viewers -- already lower than that of either of his two network rivals -- dropped to 66%, from 73% last fall. Many journalists too criticized Rather for losing his cool during the session. Even Sam Donaldson, the pit bull of network correspondents, contended that Rather went "too far."

Buoyed by the midweek backlash in Rather's favor, CBS executives stood by their man. "There is no question that what Dan portrayed on the air was not the sort of gracious Southern gentleman that he is in person," said News President Howard Stringer. "What we got was a journalist in pursuit of a story." CBS Chairman Lawrence Tisch, who was traveling in the Far East on business when the episode occurred, was briefed on it by telephone and, according to Stringer, was "very supportive." CBS staffers, though shaken by the initial barrage of criticism, were also upbeat by week's end. "This is one of the first times in recent years that people have rallied around Dan," said one producer. "What we saw was the old Dan Rather -- the tough journalist."

Rather was "pretty chagrined" immediately after the interview, according to one associate, but he quickly gathered his spirits and strongly defended his performance. "I never felt the interview was out of control," he told TIME. "I couldn't get answers, but I did not get mad." Aides who briefed Rather before the interview say the anchor was fully prepared for a heated exchange. "We knew Bush would attack, and we knew he wasn't going to answer the questions," says Producer Martin Koughan. "The trick was, How does Dan keep control of the line of questioning? Better rude than cowed."

Rather's emotional commitment to the story was clearly high. "In 1983, 241 Marines were murdered in Beirut by terrorists mounted by Iran," he says. "Most of them were 17 to 21 years old. They were our sons; they were our brothers. That burned in my memory. Then the incredible thing happened: over the dead bodies of those Marines, the United States of America sent our best missiles to Iranians who sponsored the killing. I never got that out of my head. How could that happen?" For a journalist, such fervid personal involvement might seem overwrought, not to say unprofessional. "People say I'm not cool," Rather responds. "Well, I am not a Buddha. I am not a robot. On my best days, I am a thinking reporter."

Colleagues agree that Rather is intense and fiercely competitive. But few have many more clues to his elusive personality. "Dan is a man of many moods, a complicated man, hard to figure," says one who has worked closely with him. Rather, who lives with his wife Jean in an East Side Manhattan co-op, avoids the city's social scene. A workaholic who usually gets by on four hours' sleep a night, he spends his spare hours reading, watching sports on TV and fly- fishing in the Catskills during summer vacations.

The son of a West Texas pipeline worker and a waitress, Rather began his journalism career with a part-time job at the Houston Chronicle after graduating from Sam Houston State Teachers College. He moved to a local radio station, then to KHOU-TV, the CBS affiliate in Houston. His intrepid coverage of Hurricane Carla, which swept over Galveston in 1961, caught the eye of CBS executives, who soon hired him as a correspondent.

Rather first gained nationwide attention when he happened to be in Dallas on the day President Kennedy was shot. His aggressiveness almost got him into trouble. Based on unconfirmed reports from the hospital, Rather told his bosses in New York City that Kennedy had died, leading CBS radio to report the news more than half an hour before the official announcement was made. The bulletin turned out to be correct, much to Rather's relief, and he covered himself with glory as coordinator of CBS's Dallas coverage during the assassination aftermath.

His success led Rather to stints in London, Saigon and Washington, where he served as chief White House correspondent during President Nixon's Watergate days. His combative reporting had already drawn the ire of Nixon supporters when, in March 1974, Rather rose to ask a question during an appearance by the President at a National Association of Broadcasters convention. The TV executives in the audience greeted him with a mixture of boos and cheers. "Are you running for something?" asked Nixon. "No sir, Mr. President, are you?" shot back Rather. The smart-alecky reply solidified Rather's position as Nixon's least favorite TV reporter.

Rather later spent six years as a correspondent on 60 Minutes; his pugnacious style fitted well in the show that invented confrontation journalism. But Rather's sights were set higher. As retirement approached for Evening News veteran Anchorman Walter Cronkite, Rather and Roger Mudd emerged as the two chief contenders to replace him. Though close to the same age, the pair seemed to represent different eras of TV journalism. Mudd was cerebral and low-key, the well-connected Washington insider. Rather was the brash, high-profile network terrier -- and an undeniable star. Sometimes too much the star. For one well-publicized 60 Minutes story, Rather traveled into Afghanistan disguised in native garb. He introduced himself to a rebel leader with the memorable line "Hello, my name is Rather." Critics hooted at the stunt and dubbed him Gunga Dan.

Nevertheless, Rather beat out Mudd for the anchor job, rankling some TV traditionalists in the process. In an effort to keep him from jumping to ABC, CBS gave Rather a record $22 million ten-year contract, a quantum leap in the pay for network journalists. The network also had to ask Cronkite politely to move up his retirement date to accommodate Rather's new contract. Cronkite agreed, but some insiders claim he was never happy about it.

Once he took possession of Uncle Walter's chair, Rather experienced a rough ride. Ratings began to dip, and CBS's image makers began tinkering with Rather's dress and demeanor. Early on, they put him in sweaters in an effort to soften his intensity. For a while, Rather tried hard to be warm and homespun, his writing full of purple prose and corny puns. (Before the start of the Reykjavik summit, he announced, "Ready, set, Gorbachev.") Later he reverted, with equal strain, to a straitlaced, sober, almost glum delivery.

CBS News executives admit that Rather is not a natural anchorman. "He tries his damnedest to look relaxed, but it is not in his nature," says Evening News Executive Producer Tom Bettag. "He tries to run through walls. He does clumsy things at times." Yet for all Rather's problems, the CBS Evening News retained its hold on first place in the ratings until last summer, when it dropped to third place. Staff morale had already plummeted after a wave of layoffs in the spring initiated by Chairman Tisch. Rather tried to rally the troops, appearing on a Writers Guild picket line and attacking the staff cutbacks in an op-ed column for the New York Times. But his own morale was sinking as well, and viewers could see it in his lethargic demeanor on screen.

Then came the evening last September when a U.S. Open tennis match threatened to run past the newscast's scheduled starting time of 6:30 p.m. Rather, in Miami for coverage of Pope John Paul II's visit, argued with network executives that if the match did not end on time, the newscast should be delayed instead of shortened. The match ended at 6:32, but when the network switched to Miami, Rather had left the studio. Six minutes passed before he could be rounded up and returned to his chair. Rather later apologized for the incident, but critics saw it as further evidence of his petulance, and also his power. (In addition to anchorman, Rather is managing editor of the evening newscast.) Even Cronkite, in an uncharacteristic rebuke, told an interviewer that he would have fired Rather for the transgression.

Rather's volatile behavior and the drooping ratings sparked rumors that his anchor job might be in jeopardy, or that a co-anchor might be foisted on him (prime candidate: Diane Sawyer). Though Tisch publicly expressed support, associates say he was growing disenchanted with his temperamental and decreasingly popular news star. "If Rather had been the manager of a Loew's hotel, Tisch would undoubtedly have fired him," says one source close to Tisch.

What may have saved Rather was a timely switch in ratings methodology by the A.C. Nielsen Co. When the company's new electronic People Meters went into operation in September (replacing viewer diaries), the CBS Evening News was suddenly and inexplicably back on top in the ratings. Rather, meanwhile, was given even more visibility as anchor of 48 Hours, CBS's new prime-time documentary series. Even after the Bush brouhaha, no one is seriously predicting that Rather is in trouble. "Dan is the franchise of the CBS Evening News," says one former CBS executive. "He might make them nervous, but nobody is going to fire the man who is bringing home the ratings."

Still, last week's incident seemed to galvanize the journalistic community into a spirited debate over Rather's behavior. His chief rivals, ABC's Peter Jennings and NBC's Tom Brokaw, would offer no comment. But ABC's Ted Koppel, speaking at the DuPont-Columbia University awards for broadcast journalism in New York City, asserted that the problem was not Rather's questioning but that CBS had allowed Rather "to serve as high priest in the ceremonial de-wimping of the Vice President." Marvin Kalb, the former CBS and NBC correspondent who is now a professor at the Kennedy School at Harvard, was among those who defended Rather's tough tactics. "I thought Dan was assertive and aggressive in pursuit of questions that have gone unanswered for weeks," he said. Many others seemed offended. Los Angeles Times TV Critic Howard Rosenberg compared Rather to Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutiny and attacked his prosecutorial style: "There was no excuse for him assuming the roles of judge and jury in a newscast . . . Who appointed him America's shrieking ayatullah of truth?"

Clearly, Rather is suffering from the dual, and sometimes contradictory, demands that viewers and critics make of their TV anchormen. On one hand, they are expected to be seasoned reporters, not just newsreaders; Rather, Brokaw and Jennings all pride themselves on their occasional forays "into the street" to report stories. On the other hand, they are expected to be, in a sense, above the fray, Olympian voices of authority and reassurance. But good reporters are not necessarily reassuring, and Olympian gods are not necessarily good reporters.

Rather's skills as a reporter, in short, are the very ones that seem to get him into hot water as an anchor. TV viewers were far more comfortable with Tom Brokaw's interview with Soviet Leader Gorbachev in December -- deferential, dignified, comforting. Says Rather: "I was trained to ask questions, and to ask again until they are answered or it is clearly demonstrated that they aren't going to be answered. I didn't grow up as a reporter believing that my job was necessarily to be popular." That attitude may not be a prescription for success as a network anchor in 1988. But it does ensure that Rather's tenure, however long it lasts, will not be dull.