SF Marina Times
One early Sunday evening, many years ago, I dropped into the now-vanished Triangle Lounge on Fillmore and Moulton Alley for a quick beer and a visit with the barman, Marty Lindstrom.
We chatted for a few minutes – just the two of us in the bar – when Tim Russert appeared at the front door, and greeted Marty with, “How ya doin’, buddy?”
Russert noticed me standing there, and said, “And here’s the next Herb Caen.”
After I recovered from my astonishment, I asked, “Why on earth would you say that?”
Russert replied, “My mother-in-law lives up in Cow Hollow and she sends me your column every month from the Marina Times.”
It has been said that Tim Russert was known for observing just about everything. It’s apparently true.
It has also been noted that Russert was loyal to all of his friends. He and Marty were pals when they were at Notre Dame.
“I went to Mass and then I thought I’d come over here for a beer with Marty.” Russert had just done his Meet the Press program from the road.
“I’m glad you dropped in, Tim,” I said garrulously. “I’ve been waiting for someone with whom I could I make up Lawrence Spivak jokes.”
Russert chuckled.
Years later, at Christmastime, I encountered Russert having dinner at Capp’s Corner in North Beach. True to form, he remembered me and took the trouble to introduce me to his talented wife, the author and Vanity Fair correspondent, Maureen Orth, and his son, Luke, who just graduated from Boston College.
I was raised on Meet the Press, and the longtime moderator, the assiduous, bespecled (sp?) Spivak, was a major presence in my young life.
Now, it was 1991, and Russert had taken over the program.
“You know, Mr Spivak was so kind to me, and gave me all sorts of advice and encouragement,” Russert recalled.
That sounds like the sort of mentoring for which Russert was famous.
Permit me a digression here about the history of Meet the Press, the longest-running television program in history. It started as a radio show on Mutual in 1945. It was called The American Mercury, after the magazine founded by H.L. Mencken and later owned by Lawrence Spivak. The show was created, and first hosted by a woman, Martha Rountree. That’s a rarity. It moved to NBC TV with a new name, Meet the Press. Ned Brooks was the moderator before Spivak moved from panelist to host.
Tim’s mention of Mass was not lost on me. He was a fiercely devoted Roman Catholic, and he endured (or enjoyed) a Jesuit education that was guided mostly by nuns. Nuns often get a bad rap but Russert always gave them credit for his discipline as a journalist and an insatiable curiosity about things.
He maintained the highest credentials in the most important things: a loving husband, a good dad, a world-class journalist, a fine fellow, a loyal friend.
Someone once asked Harry Reasoner if he envied anybody. Reasoner, the hard-drinking curmudgeonly journo like the William Holden and Pete Finch characters in the movie, Network, said, “I wish I could be the flat-stomached chap who can climb mountains and things like that.”
I envy the qualities that Tim Russert had, just a few of those tendencies, such as reliability and a diligence about doing homework.
He could also get people excited about his passion, politics (and sports). The cynics, the Nixonians, the right-wingers would have us give up on politics in disgust, and leave the villains at the controls – which is exactly what has happened in recent years. But Russert cheered us on when the game was going badly. He was thrilled by the upcoming election and how Obama is reigniting interest in the American political system. It’s heartbreaking to think how Russert will not be here to see how this contest turns out. This is like losing the coach in the fourth quarter of the game.
Above all, Tim Russert had a generosity of spirit. His optimism, his enthusiasm, his acuity of mind touched countless people. Someone told me last month that the mood in Washington following Russert’s death was as if a popular head of state had died – if there are any popular heads of states these days.
His friend, Mike Barnicle observed sadly, “Tim Russert was a prosecutor for the public good.”
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist and the Arts & Entertainment Editor for the SF Northside.
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