Our Man in Washington

Tim Russert's blue-collar smarts give politicians no place to hide.

As Tim Russert likes to say, "If it's Sunday, it's 'Meet the Press,'" and the guest this Father's Day, 2000, is U.S. Secretary of Commerce William Daley. He's a hot commodity because he's been tabbed to run the Democrats' Presidential race.

Daley strides into NBC's Washington studio with a complement of aides and hangers-on, the flying wedge that clears a path for the Washington Big Shot. He sits next to Russert, who is genial. "How long is our segment?" Daley asks.

"Eight minutes, probably," replies Russert, sifting through his notes. "Maybe nine." Then he looks up and smiles a devilish smile. "Just long enough to inflict some real damage."

First question: "What is the problem with Al Gore?" Daley's smile fades away altogether.

Unawed by power, unwavering in his interview technique, Tim Russert, host of Meet the Press, is tough and plain-spoken, with one foot placed squarely in the working-class neighborhood in upstate New York that he grew up in.

"Tim never forgets where he came from," says his sister Betty Buckenroth. "He carries Buffalo around in his bones."

And it shows. With cheeks where his jaw line should be, and the overall look of a man who never met a steak he didn't like, Russert is that rarest of creatures in national politics -- an average American inside the Beltway. Our man in Washington.

Each week more than ten million viewers tune in to one of the major Sunday-morning talk shows. News is traditionally slow on the weekend, and politicians and journalists use the shows to make their own noise.

More often than not, Russert's prodding helps make news that millions of people watch and read about in their Monday newspapers and on the Internet. A recent show garnered references in USA Today, the New York Times and the Washington Post. No wonder pols wanting attention clamor to get grilled by Russert.

Well, not all pols -- for Russert's interviews are indeed grillings. The key is an interview style that is polite and unrelenting -- a far cry from the usual patty-cake Q-and-A.

For guests, though, Russert's reputation has an upside: if they can handle his grillings, the theory goes, they know they can play in the big leagues. That's probably why George W. Bush's campaign wanted Russert to moderate a presidential debate last fall. And it's probably why Hillary Clinton and Rick Lazio had him host a first New York Senate debate, fittingly in Buffalo.

Sitting in his office, Russert discusses his philosophy of the interview. (Among the trophies of his success, pride of place is given to a photo of Russert and his family with the Pope -- not bad for a kid who sold Mass cards in a Buffalo parish and who never misses Sunday Mass.)

After he was named moderator of Meet the Press in 1991, Russert called Larry Spivak, one of the show's original panelists, for advice. "Learn as much as you can about your guest, and his or her position on the issues," Spivak said. "Then take the other side. If you do that, you will have a fair and balanced program."

But mere contrarianism isn't enough. Russert's method is rooted in research and planning. "I read all day, every day, about people in Washington and what they're doing: books, journals, magazines, speeches. I keep copious files so each Sunday I'm prepared to go into any area the guest might want to digress into."

For example, in August then-Rep. John Kasich (R., Ohio) discussed the state of the U.S. military:
Russert: Is America's military ready, or does it need even more money?

Kasich: Tim, we have soldiers that are on food stamps. [Secretary of Defense] Dick Cheney and [President] George Bush did reduce the military because the Cold War ended. This was ...

Russert: And for the record, there were 20,000 soldiers on food stamps under their administration. It's down to 6000 now.

This was a perfect "Meet" moment: a question backed up with a little-known fact to hold a public servant accountable.

"People work hard all week," Russert says. "They go to work and they raise their families. I'm blessed with the opportunity, while they're doing all the things that keep the country running, to read and reflect and to talk and report on all these issues. I truly see myself as a surrogate for them."

Russert's approach was forged in Buffalo, where his parents and sisters still live. The elder Tim Russert, (or Big Russ, as he's known) worked two jobs -- the sanitation department by night, trucking the Buffalo News by day -- to support his family, which included Tim and his three sisters. They remain extraordinarily close.

Every Monday Russert calls his dad to get a critique of Sunday's show. "I don't give him advice exactly," says Big Russ. "I tell him, 'You know, Tim, sometimes you can't say things exactly the way you would to people in Washington. You got to talk so people understand you.' But he knows that."

Yes he does. "Maybe mention of Senate Bill 1482 sends hearts pounding on Capitol Hill," says the younger Russert. "But it doesn't mean squat at the Russert dinner table in Buffalo."

Russert's sisters, too, aren't reluctant to give him an earful in their weekly chats. "My sisters all chose to become mothers and homemakers," Russert says. "They're the most inexpensive and accurate focus group one could have."

His passion for public affairs was ignited at a young age. There's an old saying: In Buffalo you're baptized Catholic, but you're born Democrat. "He loved the Kennedys, but of course we all did," says Sister Lucille, who taught Russert at St. Bonaventure School and helped him edit its newspaper.

It was Sister Lucille who also pushed him to apply to the rigorous Canisius High School and to John Carroll University. Then it was on to Cleveland-Marshall College of Law. Each stage was paid for by scholarships and Tim's part-time jobs.

In 1976 Russert drew the attention of Daniel Patrick Moynihan, who was then running for the U.S. Senate. After Moynihan won, the Democrat brought Russert to Washington. Six years later Russert joined the staff of New York Gov. Mario Cuomo.

But after almost two years with Cuomo, Russert was looking for a change. In 1984 he went to work for NBC. Soon he was overseeing the Today show. Four years later he became Washington bureau chief.

His Buffalo roots notwithstanding, Russert is a bona fide member of the media elite. He lives in a pricey Washington neighborhood, has an apartment in Manhattan and a home on Nantucket. He and his wife, Maureen Orth, who is a writer for Vanity Fair, move comfortably in the world of celebrity. His son Luke, 15, attends an exclusive Washington prep school.

Still, it is clear Buffalo will never be far from his mind -- or heart.

After the interview with Daley, Russert bounds to the door. "Can't talk," he says. "Gotta plane to catch. Going to see my dad. It's Father's Day!"

From Reader's Digest - January 2001

 

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