After he waved the white board around and spoke for a few minutes, I flipped through the other channels and was struck by how self-congratulatory (and recognizably empty) the rhetoric used by their political analysts was in comparison to Mr. Russert's straight-forward explanation of the situation. The issue to a lot of television folks that evening, it seemed, could be distilled to the following paraphrased, overarching statement: "This began as a complex issue, and it remains complex, which is why we're here to guide you through it; we know you're glad you have us to help you out."
For Mr. Russert, however, the evening could be distilled into this paraphrased, overarching statement: "We thought this was going to be a complex game of getting to 270 electoral votes, and in some ways it certainly is, but what it really boils down to is a simple question--who won Florida? You probably don't need me to tell you this, because Americans have gone through close elections before." His was a far less self-promoting stance--and far less patronizing, too--than those espoused by any of a number of other talking heads, during an evening that (nearly eight years on) remains seminal to both America's modern domestic and (especially) foreign policy stands.
Mr. Russert was an ever-present part of the American political landscape for decades; prior to his death, he was on television for what seemed like hours at a time, at least six days a week, and sometimes seven. His political analysis was sharp and relevant, and his interviews with politicians were uncomfortable only for the politicians, because he somehow managed to translate his welcoming nature to his audience while simultaneously and systematically dismantling the policy stances of liberal, conservative, and moderate politicians alike. His round-table discussions with fellow political analysts seemed to elevate those fellow political analysts' information-delivery skills in that they seemed encouraged to cut down on piffle-making clever statements and focus on straight-forward analysis; it was as if Mr. Russert was silently asserting that public policy is complicated already, so why wax lyrical about our own analysis skills and add another layer of annoyance to the mix?
Mr. Russert was a Catholic who believed in studying hard each day, and as a consequence his interview questions were always thought-provoking, but he also knew that letting interviewees talk themselves into a corner is sometimes the best way of letting the public discover their elected officials' faults. One of my favorite recent examples of this was when Democratic operative and Clinton supporter Terry McAuliffe, during a defense of Hillary Clinton staying in the Democratic nomination race, went unexpectedly into a long, bizarre tangent of speculation during which he suggested that both his father and Mr. Russert's father were "probably in heaven now, drinking Scotch" and agreeing that, yes, Hillary Clinton could still very well win the Democratic nomination, and therefore she should keep fighting on. Mr. Russert let Mr. McAuliffe carry on with the extended fantasy until he was finished, and then, after a very brief pause, Mr. Russert let it be known that his father was very much alive and most likely watching that very program from a couch in his living room. Mr. McAuliffe's dumbfounded response was classic: "Uh, yeah...." (It seems as though he thought that Mr. Russert's recent book, "Big Russ and Me," was written as a remembrance of deceased parent, when it was actually written and dedicated to his very-alive father.)
A lot of American political analysts and interviewers use clever quips mixed with gaudy technology to seem "cutting edge" and therefore "culturally intelligent"; Mr. Russert's selling-points were immense amounts of preparation and a personal authenticity that made you think you knew him as a close friend and a valued teacher. He was not a physically attractive individual (he looked like a somewhat-dumpy, middle-aged History teacher), but he did have a cherubic smile that would sometimes turn ever-so-slightly devilish when he knew he had a politician on the ropes (so to speak). There was something exciting about seeing that smile turn devilish. In those moments, Mr. Russert actually managed to make it seem as though debating the history of public policy as it affects the modern era was a rebellious thing to do....
Now THAT is quite an accomplishment, indeed.
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