Truth Be Told Read online

  (© 2010 Cable News Network. A Time Warner Company. All rights reserved. Photographer Adam Rose.)

  I had no idea who would appear on the final show. Bill Maher and Ryan Seacrest were the perfect guest-hosts.

  (© 2010 Cable News Network. A Time Warner Company. All rights reserved. Photographer Mathieu Young.)

  Conan O’Brien spent half a year off the air after his departure from NBC. After I announced I was leaving my cable show, he joked, “I’m always here for advice.”

  (© 2010 Cable News Network. A Time Warner Company. All rights reserved. Photographer Jordan Strauss.)

  My producer Wendy Walker may be the most organized person in the world. She added just the right touch at the postfinale celebration.

  (© 2010 Cable News Network. A Time Warner Company. All rights reserved. Photographer John Nowak.)

  My staff, who made it all happen. All I did was show up, put on my suspenders and ask questions.

  (© 2010 Cable News Network. A Time Warner Company. All rights reserved. Photographer Mathieu Young.)

  When I was a kid, all my friends had Duncan yo-yos. You could hear the zing of a Duncan. My yo-yo didn’t have any zing to it because it was cheap. So one day I cased the yo-yo aisle at Woolworth’s. I waited until just the right moment, then put a beautiful red Duncan in my pocket. The walk to the door was perilous. Perilous! I can still remember the pounding of my heart. If someone had screamed, “Hey, kid!” would I have run for it? I don’t know. I was a good kid and well known in the neighborhood. Maybe I’d have tried to squirm out of it. “Ohhhhh jeez, sorry, I was going to pay for it.”

  There’s just no comparison between my yo-yo and the billions Bernie Madoff stole—which is one reason I’m so curious about him. It’s exactly why crime is so fascinating. We all wonder: How could he do that?

  Here’s what really puzzles me. Madoff knew he was going to get caught the minute he couldn’t make a payment. If you’re that cunning, why not get on a plane and go to Brazil? There’s no extradition from Brazil. Why not call your family and say, “Who wants to go with me?” Or just tell them, “You can visit me in Brazil.” It’s not a tough choice. You’re one of the most hated men in the world. And who hates you? The Jews that you stole from. They’re not gonna kill you. It’s not like the Italian Mafia. So it comes down to, Let’s see. I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison. Or else I’ll go to Brazil. That doesn’t seem like much of a choice to me.

  I talked with the guy who wrote a New York magazine article about Madoff that was headlined BERNIE MADOFF, FREE AT LAST. The story was called that because Madoff had told the Securities Exchange Commission that his last seven years had been a nightmare. He always knew there was going to be a knock on the door, and when it came, he said, it was a relief.

  You really wonder what was going on in his mind. He’d wiped out friends. Destroyed charities. Caused investors to commit suicide. Would it be possible to see him differently if we knew his side of the story?

  I’ve always wondered what the outcome would have been if OJ had been found in the driveway after the murders screaming for the police. What if he’d fallen down on his hands and knees next to the bodies of his wife and the waiter, with the bloody knife in his hand, and the police had arrived to find him sobbing, “What have I done? I was in a rage and I lost it! I’m guilty! Punish me! I deserve to die!”

  Americans are very forgiving. I believe they’d have forgiven OJ over time. He’d have done a few years for the murders, written a book, and become the number one expert on rage. What came over me? He’d have been on every show. The audience would have cried. The audience would have applauded. OJ could never have smiled in public for the rest of his life, but he might have been able to help a lot of people.

  It’s difficult to imagine how Madoff could ever be seen in a sympathetic light. Especially after he told fellow prisoners that his investors deserved what they got because they were greedy. All con men take advantage of people’s greed. But greedy charities? When Freddie Wilpon sees an old boyhood friend at the stadium, he screams at him for buying tickets. Why didn’t you call? I would have gotten you tickets. Freddie Wilpon is not a greedy man. I’ve had lunch with Freddie Wilpon many times since the Madoff house of cards came down. There’s probably no way to describe the sense of betrayal Freddie feels. Not only for the problems Madoff caused to his finances, but for all the friends who suffered after Freddie brought them in.

  Looking at all the damage that Madoff inflicted, I can see how lucky I was. Overall—after putting in, taking out, putting in and taking out—I lost about $780,000. About $280,000 of that was to Madoff. The other half million was money paid in capital gains taxes on stocks I never owned. I gave the government the capital, without ever getting the gains. The government refunded that money. Then the trustee in the case sent a check for the remainder. I feel for the people who never got back what they lost. If I’d been wiped out of everything I had, I’m sure I’d feel what they feel. But at this point, any anger I have has been overcome by sheer curiosity.

  I’d like to know what inspired this. How did it start? There are endless questions. I don’t know what his answers would be—and I never guess. So I don’t know where my questions or follow-ups would take us. No matter how you feel about Bernie Madoff, you can’t help but be curious. Because there’s probably never been anyone quite like him. There’s got to be more to this than we can imagine. I’ll tell you why.

  One of the most memorable interviews I ever did came about because of a series of stolen bicycles in Central Park. It was with a New York City policeman during the early days of CNN.

  I had no idea what to expect. The policeman was in public affairs. He arrived in a wheelchair. He came in with his beautiful wife and a little boy. He was paralyzed from the neck down. His son could touch his face, but he couldn’t feel his son’s touch. He explained that his father was a cop and his grandfather was a cop.

  So, I asked, what happened?

  He described how he and his partner were in a squad car riding around Central Park on the lookout for bike thieves when they spotted this black kid with a brand-new Schwinn.

  He got out of the car to approach the kid, and the kid shot him. He remembered the smoke coming from his chest. He fell down in a heap. His partner ran over and grabbed the kid. An ambulance arrived. So did a Catholic priest, who gave him his last rites. He was brought to the emergency room. The doctors saved his life. But he was now paralyzed.

  Subsequently, the kid got convicted of attempted murder. He was a juvenile who’d never had a record. The sentence was split: some of the time he had to spend behind bars would be as a juvenile and the rest as an adult.

  After the cop recovered somewhat, he thought: I want to go see the kid. He went to the jail and he said to the kid, “Why did you shoot me?”

  The kid said he was sorry. Then he starts to explain. “I worked in a grocery store part time. I was an A student. I had just bought the bike. My brother—he’s the bad guy. He was running out of town and he told me to hold his gun for him. I had never held a gun in my life. He said, ‘Hold it for me,’ and he left.

  “I put the gun in my little pack, and I went off on my new bike. And you were the fifteenth cop to stop me because I had a new bike. I’m glad you came, because I want to ask you something. If I were white, would you have approached me?”

  The cop told me: “I had to take a look inside myself and honestly say: ‘I would not have approached him if he were a white kid riding on a new Schwinn.’”

  The two of them bonded, and the cop became that kid’s big brother, and that kid later became a cop. I’ll never forget that older cop crying as he told the story.

  One of the reasons I like the story is it tells me that something good can come from anything. In the end, life always comes down to how we can help others.

  Willie Sutton went on to work for a safe company to design safes that thieves couldn’t break into. He also helped wardens design escape-proof prisons. If Mado
ff conducted classes on how to spot white-collar crime, aren’t there people who’d attend? A mind like Madoff’s could do a lot of good. Maybe there’s a way to monetize it to help pay back those who lost their money.

  I’m going to be doing four specials a year for CNN. I’ve written Madoff quite a few letters requesting an interview. On the surface, there doesn’t seem to be any plus for Madoff to sit down with me. Maybe it has no meaning for him. On the other hand, he didn’t say, “I’m sorry” in his contrition statement to the judge. I’m not going to put words in his mouth, but if he ever did feel that way, he’d have the chance to say those two words.

  I wouldn’t be coming to hurt him. I don’t like what Madoff did. But I don’t know him. I might like him. He’s a rogue. I like rogues. I’d certainly treat him fairly. People have always accused me of throwing softball questions. But if I started an interview with: “Good afternoon, Bernie Madoff, you’re a creep,” what would I learn? I just want to know how it happened.

  I’m sure he wants to protect his family. I had lunch with his wife’s lawyer. He said that she didn’t know a thing. What must her life be like? One minute you’re living like a billionaire, the next minute the beauty parlor won’t take your appointment, and the restaurants won’t give you a table. And every day it keeps getting worse. The day before her son was led to believe a Wall Street Journal article would appear with information that he was about to be indicted, he committed suicide in front of his two-year-old son.

  It’s not easy to have to answer the question, Do you have regrets over your son’s suicide? But I don’t know how Madoff would respond. Maybe he’d blame the Wall Street Journal. There are so many ripples and complexities. I myself wonder if the people who wrote the Wall Street Journal story—that, in the end, never implicated the son—felt any guilt when Madoff’s son committed suicide. I remember when the investigative reporter Jack Anderson broke a very legit story about a white-collar criminal. The criminal killed himself after the story came out. Jack couldn’t rationalize it. It’s not like the guy had ever killed anybody. He’d stolen money from some agency. It made Jack very depressed.

  There are so many complexities. Maybe there’s no upside to talking—except the one that must have occurred to Wesley Snipes now that he’s behind bars. When you realize it’s helpful to talk, you don’t want it to be too late.

  There is a lawyer at our table at Nate ’n Al’s who brought to breakfast a list of similarities and coincidences in the assassinations of Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy. It’s been almost a hundred and fifty years since Lincoln was shot. But you couldn’t help but be fascinated.

  Lincoln’s name has seven letters.

  Kennedy’s name has seven letters.

  Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846.

  Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946.

  Lincoln was elected president in 1860.

  Kennedy was elected president in 1960.

  Lincoln had a secretary named Kennedy.

  Kennedy had a secretary named Lincoln.

  Lincoln lost a child while living in the White House.

  Kennedy lost a child while living in the White House.

  Lincoln was shot in a theater built by Ford.

  Kennedy was shot in a car built by Ford.

  Lincoln was succeeded by a southerner named Johnson.

  Kennedy was succeeded by a southerner named Johnson.

  Andrew Johnson’s name has thirteen letters.

  Lyndon Johnson’s name has thirteen letters.

  Andrew Johnson was born in 1808.

  Lyndon Johnson was born in 1908.

  Lincoln was sitting beside his wife when he was shot.

  Kennedy was sitting beside his wife when he was shot.

  John Wilkes Booth was born in 1839.

  Lee Harvey Oswald was born in 1939.

  John Wilkes Booth’s name has fifteen letters.

  Lee Harvey Oswald’s name has fifteen letters.

  Booth ran from the theater and was captured in a warehouse.

  Oswald ran from a warehouse and was captured in a theater.

  Booth was killed prior to trial while in police custody.

  Oswald was killed prior to trial while in police custody.

  Lincoln died on a Friday.

  Kennedy died on a Friday.

  Two murders, and this is what we’re left with. When we don’t understand why, we never get tired of wondering. Because when it comes to crime, we’re always looking for some thread that will help us understand.

  7

  Broadcasting

  Very often people are disappointed when they get to meet their heroes. Their heroes just can’t live up to their expectations. I’m lucky—that’s never happened to me. Mine have always treated me in a way that made me proud.

  I went to visit one of them at the beginning of my final year on the show. He was ninety-one at the time and in a wheelchair. But whenever I see Mike Wallace, I picture myself as a young man in Brooklyn racing home to watch his show. The show was called Night Beat.

  Mike’s broadcasting approach was very different from mine. Night Beat was sort of an attack show. Mike would sit in a chair, smoke a cigarette, and grill his guest. It was a forerunner to what he would do on 60 Minutes. Mike was intelligent, did thorough research, and had all the facts at his command. The clarity of his delivery made him impossible to click off. He once did an interview with Governor Orval Faubus of Arkansas after Faubus refused to follow federal law and integrate the state’s schools, not long before President Eisenhower sent in troops.

  The show was nearly always confrontational, and more than a few guests walked off the set in the middle of it. Since they knew the grilling was coming, it was always a mystery why people agreed to go on in the first place.

  The comedian Sid Caesar once did a famous takeoff of Night Beat on Your Show of Shows. Here’s the setup: Sid’s all ready for his interview with Mike Wallace. But his friends are advising him against it. “Why are you going on? Why would you do this to yourself?”

  “Are you kidding?” Sid says. “What’s he going to do to me? I’ve got nothing to hide! No problem!”

  So Sid goes on the show. Carl Reiner is playing Mike Wallace. Carl goes through the introductions while Sid waits confidently.

  The first question is something like, “Who was Mildred Finnech?”

  And you see Sid squirm. “Ohhhhh, jeeez. Oh, God!”

  “And your income tax returns from 1952 . . . ?”

  “Ohhhhhhhhhh, jeez!”

  Soon, water is pouring down Sid’s head as if he’s sweating profusely. More than fifty years later, the image still makes me smile.

  That parody was the ultimate compliment. Night Beat was built on the basics of broadcast journalism: Mike came in with facts and questions, and the guest sat across from him with his own viewpoint. The groundwork was laid for a fair exchange. There was a balance.

  Time and changes in our culture have chipped away at that balance. If you want to see how much we’ve lost, all you have to do is turn on Fox News Channel. When I watch Glenn Beck, I see a total circus. I don’t buy the act. Fox News lies to suit itself. The most obvious lie is that it promotes itself as “fair and balanced.” And MSNBC ain’t exactly balanced, either.

  When I look back, it’s hard to believe all the changes I’ve seen in broadcasting. I can remember when televisions first came into showrooms. I’d stand in front of the window of a store on 86th Street and stare at the test pattern on the screen. The networks had very few programs, and nothing came on until five o’clock. You waited for that test pattern to flicker. That’s how you knew a show was starting. All the television stores piped the sound into the street.

  When I think of brilliance in broadcasting I think of Edward R. Murrow. He ended Senator McCarthy’s Communist witch hunt with one of the great broadcasts of all time. He didn’t argue with McCarthy. He didn’t harangue. He let McCarthy bury himself with his own words. That was balance.

  Ther
e were only three networks when I came up in the business. It’s always preferable to have more options. If you’re a baseball fan, you’d love the ability to tune in to any game being played. We didn’t have those benefits, but there were good fundamentals. News was civilized. There were no pundits. There was analysis. A broadcaster had time to build trust. When Walter Cronkite turned against the Vietnam War, the nation turned with him because it respected his judgment.

  I don’t want to make it sound like broadcast news was perfect back then, or that we should return to those days. When I started in radio, you couldn’t even say the word pregnant on the air. You had to say she’s with child. (There was a reason Lenny Bruce came along.) But for the most part, there was respect for the craft, and there were sensible rules. I loved the equal-time amendment. We had to give equal time to opposing points of view during political campaigns. My all-night radio show was very fair. We kept time: if a caller attacked a candidate, that candidate was offered the same amount of time to respond.

  Cable changed the whole landscape. Cable is wired underground, so it’s not subject to the same Federal rules as companies using the airwaves. There’s no equal-time rule for cable. The industry makes its own rules. That not only opened the door to alternatives, but it also opened the door to extremes. Jon Stewart says that Fox is not a network; he believes it’s a political party. I agree with him. In a sense, during the final days of Larry King Live, I was a broadcaster competing against two political parties—MSNBC on the left and Fox on the right. You always hear on Fox how Sarah Palin and the Tea Party energize the base—Fox’s base. CNN doesn’t have a base. We’re middle of the road. We have a core audience.

  I’m not saying the new landscape is wrong. Change is not wrong. In fact, change is the only constant. Music has changed over the years. I used to know every song in the Top 40. Now I don’t know any. And I don’t think I could ever play along with the tune of today’s broadcasting. Bill O’Reilly brings on a guest with little intention of listening to that person’s point of view. The guest is merely a prop for O’Reilly to sound off. It’s all become theater.