Tick... Tick... Tick... Read Online Free PDF Page A

linger for many years after.
    When asked about it recently, Hewitt remembered the incident but says it was between Kennedy and Cronkite. “I know he and Bobby had a fight,” Hewitt says of Cronkite. What about the promise Cronkite had described? “I never said that in my life,” Hewitt replied. “Never ever said that in my life.” In fact, Hewitt says, he took issue with those who predicted that “bingo games and confessionals” would follow the election of a Catholic to the White House. “I had nothing to do with any of this,” Hewitt continues. “Bobby Kennedy and Cronkite . . . I had nothing to do with that. That was nothing [Cronkite] ever blamed me for.” However, it was difficult to dismiss the Cronkite version; the Most Trusted Man in America told the story in a March 2003 interview with considerable recall of details.
    Â 
    During the same campaign, Hewitt the showman produced a singular event that forever changed the American political landscape. On September 26 , 1960 , he directed the first of two debates between the two presidential candidates, John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon. Historians now generally concede that Kennedy changed the course of history that night. Theodore H. White, in The Making of the President 1960 , described Nixon in the debate as “half-slouched, his ‘Lazy Shaves’ powder faintly streaked with sweat, his eyes exaggerated hollows of blackness, his jaws, jowls and face drooping,” whereas the well-tanned Kennedy “appeared to be the pillar of robust good health.” Hewitt had offered Nixon the services of a professional makeup artist; the dour Nixon had declined. Although the debate’s production came under Hewitt’s exclusive control, he ultimately had little to do with the course of that night beyond doing his job. But his presence there, recorded on film and in photographs (including one on the cover of his 2002 memoir), has nevertheless contributed to Hewitt’s reputation as a part of television history.
    The debate created the central story of the 1960 presidential campaign—and demonstrated yet again Hewitt’s skill at being at the center of big stories and major news events. He had no trouble locating the nexus of drama, especially in politics.
    In those days conventions could still alter the course of presidential politics, and Hewitt covered them more like a Hollywood movie than a political event. He positioned cameras everywhere on the convention floor, in the offices of the candidates, on the ground floors of the hotels, and outside for street scenes. He made sure no image was left unrecorded and then choreographed the coverage from inside the control room—choosing on the fly among dozens of shots to tell the ongoing, unscripted story. He monitored events and made sure that crucial characters stayed on screen. He developed roles for his correspondents, assigning them delegations and keeping them in place down on the floor with microphones and headsets, constantly reporting up to Cronkite in the anchor booth.
    â€œI’m coming to you next!” Hewitt would yell to a reporter, ordering him to chase down a candidate or important delegate. If Senator Jacob Javits of New York was reported to be upset about something, Hewitt would scream to Harry Reasoner in the New York delegation: “Get over to see Javits! If you don’t know the story I’ll tell you but get Javits!” Blessed with encyclopedic recall, Hewitt kept reams of ever-shifting information in his head, weaving a story line that somehow transcended mere news and kept viewers glued to CBS to see what would happen next.
    For the 1960 conventions, Hewitt had the smart-sounding idea of pairing Cronkite and Edward R. Murrow—a match that sounded great on paper to hapless CBS News executives who had no choice but to trust Hewitt’s casting instincts and showbiz judgment. But the two titanic egos just