With sincere apologies to all my journo friends, TV news broadcasting will never be like it was in the heyday of the three national networks, when the family gathered ’round the tube for the nightly news.
Rather. Jennings. Cronkite. Brokaw. Smith. Brinkley. Murrow.
Those were the biggies, but in my fair burg of North Texas, there is none more regaled and respected than the great Bob Schieffer.
The guy has a school of journalism named in his honor for crying out loud. Simply put, he’s the shizzle in Dallas/Fort Worth. And all year long, he has been in the news for what he experienced 50 years ago — reporting the assassination of John F. Kennedy in his own backyard.
Among the gruesome descriptions and hearkening memories, Schieffer says something that should strike all of us flacks to the core. More about that after the jump…