There are two funerals on tap this week at CBS, Inc., the company where I spent the first decade of my professional career. When I joined it in 1974, it had recently changed its name from the Columbia Broadcasting System to better reflect its position as a major media company, not just a broadcaster. Its four core lines of business were Broadcasting (TV and radio), Records (music), Publishing (books and magazines), and Musical Instruments/Toys.
Some people are visionaries. Some people are great leaders. Few people can do both at the same time. Ted Turner was one of those special people.
In the wake of his death on May 6 at the age of 87, much has been written about his brash in-your-face style. I never met or worked for him. But I have many friends and colleagues who did. To a person, they sing his praises as a tough but fair leader. That he was a visionary is clear when you consider his impact on media in general and journalism in particular.
Some events you remember. I thought back, as I watched the men’s U.S. ice hockey team win the gold medal at the 2026 Milan–Cortina Olympics, to the last time the team won. I remember it well. It was the 1980 Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, New York, in an event known as the “Miracle on Ice.” The team secured the gold medal on February 24, 1980, after defeating Finland, having upset the Soviet Union two days before on February 22, 1980.
It had already been a horrific weekend. On December 13 a mass shooting at Brown University’s Barus & Holley Engineering Building in Providence, Rhode Island left two students dead and nine others injured. The gunman remains at large, and a multi-agency manhunt is ongoing.
The next day a terrorist mass shooting at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia left at least 15 people dead and around 40 injured. The attack targeted a Jewish Hanukkah celebration and was carried out by a father-son duo inspired by Islamic State ideology. It followed an increase in antisemitic attacks in the country including one in July where an arsonist set fire to a synagogue in Melbourne while worshipers were inside.
Then came word from the trendy Brentwood section of Los Angeles. Hollywood and the rest of the world were stunned when acclaimed filmmaker Rob Reiner, 78, and his wife, photographer Michele Singer Reiner, were found dead in their home in what police described as a homicide. Authorities have since arrested their son, Nick Reiner, 32, and charged him with murder.
What do you say about the human condition when faced with that sequence of events?
The shocked reaction to the Reiners’ murder was overwhelming itself. Rob Reiner was praised not only as a great talent on both sides of the camera but also as a mentor and friend who shared that talent with a generosity rare in the cutthroat entertainment business. There was one exception which I will write about at some other time.
Earlier this year I wrote about the passing of Diane Keaton and Robert Redford and noted they appear many times on my list of favorite films. The passing of Rob Reiner leaves a similar hole in my heart.
Rob Reiner was born in the Bronx, New York in 1947. He spent his childhood in New Rochelle, where his father Carl would place his fictional family of Rob and Laura Petrie on “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” They moved to California in the early 1960s. Like his father, Rob got his start as an actor before stepping behind the camera. His breakthrough role was Mike Stivic on “All in the Family” in 1970. Mike was the outspoken liberal son-in-law of Carroll O’Connor‘s conservative bigoted Archie Bunker. These are my first memories of Rob Reiner. Mike’s battles with Archie, written by the great Norman Lear, brought into America’s living room topics roiling the nation but up until then considered too controversial for television.
Now the list of films begins. And I will only note some my favorites. Reiner’s first feature was 1980’s “Spinal Tap,” a groundbreaking “mockumentary” that was a breakout hit. His next movie was “The Sure Thing,” a coming of age romantic comedy, followed by “Stand By Me,” based on a Stephen King story. King was also the source for “Misery,” which would be one Reiner’s biggest theatrical hits.
My list of films also includes “The Princess Bride.” Also “A Few Good Men” and “The American President,” both written by Aaron Sorkin. “When Harry Met Sally,” my favorite rom-com, “Rumor Has It…,” and “The Bucket List.” The number is films in which Reiner acted, usually in a supporting role, are too numerous to list here.
The list of testimonials has been astonishing. I am just going to cite one, an Instagram post from Meg Ryan, who starred along with Billy Crystal in “When Harry Met Sally.”
I remember how proud I was the day I reported to work at WBBM-TV, the CBS owned and operated station in Chicago. It was in October 1974. I was to start my first “real,” that is, “post school,” job. My position was “Assistant Political Analyst.” That was a fancy title for an entry level job more commonly known in newsrooms as a “legman.” Legmen, and legwomen, assist senior reporters and columnists as needed. One of the station’s anchors also had the title of “Political Analyst” and I was to help him in everything from researching and producing his stories to doing his expense account and picking up his laundry.
But here I was at bottom of the ladder at the company where Walter Cronkite presided over the evening newscast. The same newscast I had been watching for most of my life. Yes, I felt proud.
Free speech is a pain in the rear. Always has been. Always will be.
It is a nice idea. If you have freedom of speech, you have the right to say whatever is on your mind without fear of repercussions. But there is a rub. It also means the guy standing next to you has freedom of speech. That means he can say whatever is on his mind, even if you find it to be abhorrent, disgusting, threatening and maybe even dangerous.
The men who designed our government met in secret and wrote a historic document detailing the structure of the national state and enumerating the powers and responsibilities of its parts. When the document was made public, the people were not pleased. They demanded a guarantee of their rights be written into the document.
If you want to take a master class in film, you need only watch the movies of Robert Redford. Redford passed away peacefully on September 16, at the age of 89, at his beloved home at Sundance in the mountains of Utah. He was more than a Hollywood icon. He was a visionary who reshaped American cinema and left an indelible mark on the cultural landscape.