Here's Why NPR Really Matters

[Source: The Chicago Tribune, by Scott Simon, May 5, 2011]

Opinion

Forty years ago, National Public Radio began as an afterthought, a postscript in the bill that created public broadcasting. We come from modest beginnings. We had a joke at NPR's Chicago bureau during the 1980s, ready for people who called to ask, "What time is 'All Things Considered' on?"

We'd say, "What time would you like to hear it?"

Today, as we reach our 40th anniversary, nearly 38 million people listen to public radio each week. NPR has a larger audience than most commercial news shows and all of the cable news channels on which people froth and fulminate. NPR is no longer alternative therapy. It has become The News for millions of Americans. TV host Jon Stewart (who also has a smaller audience than NPR) jokes about NPR and gets laughs (including from those who work here) because his most cool and coveted viewership knows NPR. I've been embedded with young paratroopers who hum the "All Things Considered" theme because it's as familiar to them as a Coca-Cola jingle.

People raise sound, sharp questions today as to why, when deficits are forcing police and teachers to lose their jobs and forcing cuts to school lunch programs, even pennies should go to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and the public media it funds. As a newsman, I am neutral in that debate. But I do ask listeners for support (a lot) and I'm actually pretty optimistic that with so many millions tuned in, NPR will continue to grow and prosper.

Still, the goal of public broadcasting isn't just to serve the audience you have. It's to be there for people all across the country who may listen, but can't contribute; those who don't listen, and those who've never heard NPR but are quite sure that they don't like it.

Forty years ago, radio was trapped in a dispiriting ditch: Top 40 hits, ticky-tacky formats, shock-jocks and news bites that were as much like the pioneer radio reporting of Edward R. Murrow and Eric Sevareid as a McRib is to prime rib.

NPR revived radio. It harnessed radio's special immediacy, mobility and personality to tell stories from around the world. Broadcasters, not marketers, created NPR. They believed that if they did interesting, reliable and enjoyable shows, people would find them and value them. That's kind of touching in these days when market research practically tracks your cholesterol count.

NPR has recently suffered self-inflicted wounds, most from blockheaded executives. All I can say is that there are a lot of workers in companies all over America who feel the same way. We kvetch and groan, then do the best job we can.

Sure, NPR has its quirks. We can treat every baby boomerish anniversary ("It's the 57th anniversary of Bob Zimmerman's bar mitzvah!") like the discovery of fire. And is there a rodeo clown NPR hasn't profiled?

But when hurricanes strike, conflicts erupt and markets plunge, people find NPR. As other news operations have gotten more parochial, pompous and thin, NPR has done messy, expensive things that are supposed to be audience downers, like expanding foreign coverage and deepening reporting on the economy. And we've seen our audience grow.

On the day that planes toppled the twin towers, the crew of my show came to work to be on the air overnight. Millions of Americans were reeling and grieving. I have covered wars, politics, county fairs, catastrophes, tragedies, comedies and crimes for NPR. I will never do shows more important than the ones we did the week of Sept. 11, 2001.

We told the stories of heroes, sought out wise people, read some poems and opened our microphones to people from the heart of America who hungered to hear each other. I was glad we could be there; a steady, trusty light on the dial from early morning to the middle of the night.

When the week ended, we put our arms around each other and took a moment to feel, as we are able to every week, that we had done something pretty good for our country.

Scott Simon hosts NPR's "Weekend Edition Saturday."