interview with the widow of Senator Robert F. Kennedy. Perhaps the stories sacrificed weight for emotion, but in Hewittâs view, anything that seemed like it would connect the viewer to the broadcast was a good thingâeven if the numbers rarely reflected an audience upsurge. Hewitt continued to trust his impulses as he always had, but in the absence of overt viewer interest it wasnât easy to figure out what worked and what didnât.
Part of what held 60 Minutes back was the continuing technology constraints of television, which in 1968 remained relatively primitive. Videotape was still not in wide use, and Hewitt preferred the look of film, anywayâand there was no way for him to get film produced, processed, and ready for air without at least 24 hoursâ lead time. This meant that it was almost impossible for 60 Minutes to cover breaking news stories, and worse, that the show might never have the feel of immediacy fantasized in its planning stages. Hewitt had little passion for âevergreens,â those stories capable of sitting around for months with no news peg to justify their existence. He wanted stories hot off the press, Hildy style.
As fall turned to winter, 60 Minutes began to find a hint of its own voice and a way to incorporate ongoing events into the showâs weekly format. On the episode that aired on January 21 , 1969 (only the showâs ninth), Reasoner and Wallace illustrated the battle between Israel and Lebanon by telling the story from both sides in one week, with pieces from each correspondent. It may not have redefined TV news, but it was the kind of presentation that might eventually set 60 Minutes apart from other news shows: the nightly newscasts rarely had room for conceptual thinking like that.
And from the beginning, the pieces had another distinguishing feature that reflected Hewittâs cinematic style: they showcased the correspondent as star. Reasoner and Wallace turned up front and center in early stories, often incorporating their own movements and reporting into the narrative. No one watching 60 Minutes , even in the first season, would have had a momentâs doubt about who was doing the reporting behind these piecesâit was Reasoner and Wallace, right? The viewers at home didnât have to trouble themselves with the disillusioning truthâwhich was that behind-the-scenes producers did the vast majority of the reporting, while the correspondents swooped in at the last minute to film the on-air interviews. This was a format made to order for a former actor like Wallace or a correspondent like Reasoner, who preferred to leave the heavy lifting to others.
This also left considerable room for humor, such as Wallaceâs introduction to a Reasoner piece about the Jack Danielâs distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee, in which he made strong allusions to his costarâs affection for liquor:
W ALLACE : I think you can understand that as journalists who cover any and everything, there are certain stories that appeal to us more than others. Harry Reasoner has been working on a story for some time now. I donât believe that in all the years Iâve known Harry, I have ever seen him devote himself to a story more completely and with more apparent pleasure. Herewith that report.
On February 4 , 1969 , Reasoner weighed in with âCottage For Sale,â a typically laconic ramble that showed a glimpse of what the show could deliver, while defining the incalculable value of an on-site correspondent to pose pertinent and provocative questions. Essentially an interview with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, the piece included this memorable interchange with the one-time monarch, who was now selling his French cottage years after having so famously abdicated the throne.
Â
R EASONER : How old were you, then, when you became king?
T HE D UKE OF W INDSOR : Forty-two.
R EASONER : And you were king forâ
W INDSOR : Ten months.
R EASONER
Part of what held 60 Minutes back was the continuing technology constraints of television, which in 1968 remained relatively primitive. Videotape was still not in wide use, and Hewitt preferred the look of film, anywayâand there was no way for him to get film produced, processed, and ready for air without at least 24 hoursâ lead time. This meant that it was almost impossible for 60 Minutes to cover breaking news stories, and worse, that the show might never have the feel of immediacy fantasized in its planning stages. Hewitt had little passion for âevergreens,â those stories capable of sitting around for months with no news peg to justify their existence. He wanted stories hot off the press, Hildy style.
As fall turned to winter, 60 Minutes began to find a hint of its own voice and a way to incorporate ongoing events into the showâs weekly format. On the episode that aired on January 21 , 1969 (only the showâs ninth), Reasoner and Wallace illustrated the battle between Israel and Lebanon by telling the story from both sides in one week, with pieces from each correspondent. It may not have redefined TV news, but it was the kind of presentation that might eventually set 60 Minutes apart from other news shows: the nightly newscasts rarely had room for conceptual thinking like that.
And from the beginning, the pieces had another distinguishing feature that reflected Hewittâs cinematic style: they showcased the correspondent as star. Reasoner and Wallace turned up front and center in early stories, often incorporating their own movements and reporting into the narrative. No one watching 60 Minutes , even in the first season, would have had a momentâs doubt about who was doing the reporting behind these piecesâit was Reasoner and Wallace, right? The viewers at home didnât have to trouble themselves with the disillusioning truthâwhich was that behind-the-scenes producers did the vast majority of the reporting, while the correspondents swooped in at the last minute to film the on-air interviews. This was a format made to order for a former actor like Wallace or a correspondent like Reasoner, who preferred to leave the heavy lifting to others.
This also left considerable room for humor, such as Wallaceâs introduction to a Reasoner piece about the Jack Danielâs distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee, in which he made strong allusions to his costarâs affection for liquor:
W ALLACE : I think you can understand that as journalists who cover any and everything, there are certain stories that appeal to us more than others. Harry Reasoner has been working on a story for some time now. I donât believe that in all the years Iâve known Harry, I have ever seen him devote himself to a story more completely and with more apparent pleasure. Herewith that report.
On February 4 , 1969 , Reasoner weighed in with âCottage For Sale,â a typically laconic ramble that showed a glimpse of what the show could deliver, while defining the incalculable value of an on-site correspondent to pose pertinent and provocative questions. Essentially an interview with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, the piece included this memorable interchange with the one-time monarch, who was now selling his French cottage years after having so famously abdicated the throne.
Â
R EASONER : How old were you, then, when you became king?
T HE D UKE OF W INDSOR : Forty-two.
R EASONER : And you were king forâ
W INDSOR : Ten months.
R EASONER
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