I'm going to miss Brian Williams. Far often than he knows, he ended my day on a note of hope or an energetic defiance of policy based on nonsense.
Tuesday night, he announced that he was leaving NBC, most specifically his late night show "The 11th Hour" on MSNBC, at the end of this month. He's apparently going to explore different venues, and his talents, stuck in a way at the end of each evening, will have a chance to return to their previous status.
That's because of an act of hubris committed some years ago, when he for some reason felt he had to exaggerate the danger under which he traveled to get stories from Iraq. One wonders why that was, but he was removed from his flagship assignment, anchoring NBC's network evening news, and placed in a purgatory of afternoon (mostly) cable TV journalism, where his contract could be fulfilled but few would complain that he was having much impact.
His ego had to have been deflated. Yet, he set about re-creating his career from the bottom up. Once broken, trust takes far longer to be restored than to shatter. Note that he did not resign. He bit the bullet, accepted the consequences of his error and soldiered on.
Gradually, he re-earned some credibility. In 2016, MSNBC game him a chance to redeem himself, if only late at night, where he could be jettisoned permanently if he messed up again. But the show seemed made for his puckish humor; dependable, informative guests who leaned left; and the use of facts to illustrate things that were decent or those that were awry that took more than cleverness. They were ways to demonstrate, without his actual commentary, that the world was changing and not always in good ways.
That his show was the day's last live broadcast and provided MSNBC with ballast to end each weekday's coverage. The stories Williams provided were very often repeats of things that others--Nicolle Wallace, Ari Melber, Joy Reid, Chris Hedges, Rachel Maddow, and Lawrence O'Donnell--had already handled. There are, after all, only so many 'lead' stories per day. But with the guests he asked on and commentary that only he could provide, he seemed to wrap up the day in a way few others could. He had regained an enormous podium, but normally used exampling by action, and not with mere words. Far more often than not, it's as much how he pointed things out as what he said about them that made sufficient points, and provided his unique stamp. Here's one viewer that appreciated that and far more often than not, stayed up to absorb it.
He also anchored election coverages, for instance, being magnanimous to introduce and feature new voices, especially those of women, into the explanations of why things were happening. Mansplaining is something I never heard him do, not even subconsciously. He got out of the way of female talent and let it take over. But then, he was happy to be there, happy to be still working. That humility shown through, too, and seemed to maintain his perspective so he never again got out in front of himself.
But it's that voice, that demonstrative but calming voice, that I will miss the most. His tone was illustrative. When things were important, it could tell you so. When someone else tried to make them important but they really weren't, his jabs at such pomposity (especially by ex-, whose pathetic presidency was made for Williams) brought my grins and chuckles. But humor was never the major point: He is, has been, and will remain worried about the discourse of viewpoints in America.
Meanwhile, his Nightly News anchor position had been filled with an equally authoritative Lester Holt, who has nailed down that spot and become another dependable daily source. Williams knew he couldn't return to what he had had removed. He needed not only to be forgiven, but a venue with which to demonstrate that he deserved it.
"The 11th Hour" became a settled-in part of MSNBC's daily bulwark of information for progressives to absorb, knowing that the incessant pounding of that kind of reportage had to be there to resist Fox News and its efforts to provoke resentment and anger at every turn. It became kind of a sneaky slot, ripe for development, and Williams took maximum advantage of it.
Within that show, he could once again demonstrate what being a thought leader could and should be: Based on fact, sufficiently assertive at any moment, but always reserving something for a follow-up that might not be necessary, but might then again be. Some control must govern all commentary. You know plenty and you've seen plenty, but you never know what's coming next. Crazy can never win out.
Williams knows that the cause goes on and he can and will be replaced. "The 11th Hour" was built around him, but he can let it go now. It has become bigger than him, as he noted in his comments last night. He has rebuilt his integrity, but there's nowhere else to rise. Even this late in his career, inertia won't deepen its grasp.
He's 62 now, and could just fade away. But I doubt that he will. He has, reportedly, nothing lined up right now, but he's in a spot where he can watch for his next opportunity.
For the moment, he will now go it alone in a career that has seen its rises and falls. I'm guessing money isn't the issue; it's more the need to make one's own voice matter more than filling an 11 (or 10, in the Central Time Zone) p.m. slot so NBC Universal didn't totally waste his considerable talent. Were I to be fortunate enough to meet him, my message would be: Don't be a stranger.
It will be strange, though, to tune into MSNBC at 10 p.m. and know that the page has turned. But the relentlessness of time engulfs us all. Whoever takes over his time slot will have big shoes to fill.
Progressives like me will miss his viewpoint, blended into the stories he wished to expose and garnished with sometimes edgy analysis. But late night's often about that. He turned the tables on it, as he did to rescue himself from a career than threatened to run into the ditch.
So long, Brian. Godspeed you on your way. Thanks for great journalism and the nightly knowledge that I could go to sleep confident that the world hadn't quite (as of yet) turned itself inside out.
Be well. Be careful. Get a booster shot, like I am today. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.
Mister Mark
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