Web Commonerpolitics, social commentary, and ramblings on pop culture

I was only four years old when Walter Cronkite relinquished his post as anchor of the “CBS Evening News,” and it would be many years into his retirement before I would understand and appreciate the true value of his character, or the full weight of his worth in terms of contributions that he made to the world of journalism and the respect he received from a nation of millions. My memories of Cronkite’s most popular moments are not unique, just recorded glimpses of the man’s stern yet warm delivery of the news as captured in time for the history books to later relay. Many in the baby boomer generation held him in such high regard that he earned the nickname, “Uncle Walter,” a testament to his ability to invade their living rooms each night with the sense of a beloved family member. They welcomed him with open arms, sometimes to receive some of the most disheartening news to hit the nation in the last half-century.

In Cronkite’s time, television was different. People peered into CRT monitors spilling duotone images of black and white into their living rooms. Sound came from a single channel, and “rabbit ear” antennas topped TV sets to receive the only signals available to viewers at the time, broadcasts from three major networks captured over the air. Of course, three networks meant three channels, which broadcast news programming for little more than 30 minutes each night. There was no means for recording what you missed, which meant that information-savvy citizens always knew exactly where they would be and what they would be doing once Walter hit the airwaves to deliver the daily news. At the evening’s end, the sound of a single tone and a screen-saver-like image indicated the end of a network’s daily programming, as if acting as an alarm to alert sleepy Americans that they overstayed their visit to TV land.

This nightly ritual between Cronkite, his network, and his constituency continued for nearly twenty years, through the civil rights and women’s liberation movements, the first lunar landing, Vietnam, Watergate, the Nixon impeachment, and the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy Jr., Senator Robert F. Kennedy Jr., and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He endured sweeping change within the business of broadcast news, including the introduction of new competing networks, finally relieving himself of his duty not long before federal action brought cable technology to people’s homes in droves, along with a multitude of new channels. Cronkite seemed to disappear from public life temporarily, but a new generation of news hounds were fortunate enough to rediscover the man after he broke silence to deliver opinion-oriented editorial pieces in publications and on the radio throughout the last decade, which focused on everything from politics to the media.

It was in these moments, on the quiet drive home from work, that I welcomed Walter Cronkite, now a seasoned veteran, into my world. I listened intently as his signature voice, confident and adept, brought me into those old living rooms to relive crucial turning points in our country’s sorted history. His radio essays drew heavily on decades of professional experience, reflecting the challenges that he and his colleagues faced as reporters tasked to cover emotionally charged and politically sensitive events with objective eyes and ears. As I look back at Mr. Cronkite’s career, it would appear to me that his legacy is not really about how he delivered the news to millions each night. Instead, it’s about how he delivered information to people that was pure and unfiltered. Walter leaves this world at a point in our history when an evolving news landscape seeks to, once again, change how we organize and deliver new information. His legacy will serve as a sort of signpost, steering us clear from selfishly seeking out information that we want to know and instead pointing us in a direction towards getting the information that we need to know.

Thanks Uncle Walter. We will remember you always.

New evidence of Michael Jackson’s influence is popping up throughout the Internet in the form of tributes to the deceased entertainer. Friends and fans alike are passing along links to websites like Eternal Moonwalk, where a continuous loop of home videos shows people performing Jackson’s signature move. Other homages highlight his artistic genius, and one particular YouTube user is publishing video mash-ups that combine Jackson’s music with old footage of song-and-dance icons perceived to be his artistic inspirations from entertainment’s past. Check out the following series of clips that chronicle evidence of a historical evolution behind what eventually came to be Michael Jackson’s “Moonwalk.”

Other videos on the page carefully combine edited clips of “West Side Story” with Jackson’s “Beat It” and “Bad,” or clips of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse dancing to Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal,” all skillfully crafted to demonstrate the entertainer’s obvious affinity towards show tunes, and their influence on his music, dance and videos. The significant difference between those historical gems and Jackson’s own art are the media that presented them, the silver screen versus MTV and the boob tube, which invariably led me to ponder how artistic influence gets recycled over time and through different mediums. As technology evolves and cultures change, valued art from the past gets passed on to succeeding generations, and shared influence continues to turn the wheels of inspiration, progress, and innovation.

Recently, Coldplay’s smash hit, “Viva La Vida,” sparked controversy over whether or not the British band lifted their song’s signature tune from an earlier recording of Joe Satriani’s “If I Could Fly.” The Internet and, more specifically, YouTube, became a sort of advanced interactive medium for fans to compare the music, discuss its transference, and indirectly share its inspiration and influence. To make matters more interesting, convincing compositions by other musicians including Enanitos Verdes and Cat Stevens got thrown into the mix, spanning almost twenty years of artistic works that seemingly influenced other works. Much of the matter’s discussion seems reminiscent of conversations that took place at the turn of the century when advances in production technologies brought Hip-Hop culture from block parties to the recording studio as artists began sampling old recordings to create entirely new music compositions.

In a society that sets high standards on the use of copy-written material, technology is once again testing the limits of artistic progress, and rekindling conversations that take place over the influence of past works. In the United States, arguments over copyright material are historically settled within the confines of America’s courtrooms, but new ideas fostering the free sharing of information via the Internet threatens to blow the hinges off the system’s doors. In the not-so-distant past, peer-to-peer sharing showed signs of destroying the business of record companies, which held a monopoly on music distribution, and lawsuits only gained them enough time to restructure their business models. Today, social networking sites like YouTube are excellent examples of mediums that allow for gross sharing of artistic property and ideas. Meanwhile, a new generation of entrepreneurs is setting aside outdated practices of intellectual protectionism by embracing a culture of sharing, most notably in open-source software development.

Regardless of which way the wind blows on future copyright law, shared influence among artistic works remains a powerful force that inspires human progress and innovation through time, a sort of transference of such subtle references to the past that they can quickly and easily be forgotten. Throughout human history, the past is what shapes our future and, since the day we learned to stand upright and speak, that yearning to share what we know and how we came to know it lingers within, like the blood flowing through our veins. It’s generally accepted that you cannot get something from nothing, especially within the spectacular realm of the shared human experience. So, without Copernicus, there would be no Galileo. Without Greek philosophy, no Roman democracy. Without Chuck Berry, no Beatles and, of course, without Fred Astaire, no Michael Jackson.

In today’s digital age, the Internet’s near open exchange of information never ceases to amaze, and I feel fortunate to be a member of the generation that stood front and center as the web progressed from infancy into adulthood. As a teenager, I remember feeling stunned the first time a friend messaged me in real time using a desktop computer. Now, we carry the computer in our pocket and rely heavily on the Internet to communicate, conduct business, educate, and entertain. In hind sight, it isn’t shocking to know that entire industries would be forced into an evolutionary state of emergency as they struggled to stay afloat in a rapidly changing environment, and the two we hear about most are music and print.

Both were unequipped and ill-prepared for the mass exodus that occurred after digital technology freed their subjects, and forced a need to update their business plans and models. People who felt used by an industry profiting twofold on the sale of compact discs, which cost pennies to produce, suddenly had the upper hand and simply stopped buying music. Still, all it took was an organized, reasonably priced distribution system built off the convenience of the Internet to revitalize the market, and it was an innovative computer company that put the first foot forward. Meanwhile, the music industry was caught, virtually, with its pants down.

Now, it’s the print industry’s turn to share some of the embarrassment. Sure, publishers made moves years back towards digitizing their business by offering content online, but they clung desperately to the newspaper model and refused to strip off the blinders in anticipation of a time when subscribers would ditch the big front page for a smaller, more personalized screen. Almost ten years out of college, I can recall professors in my own communications courses who predicted a future without traditional media, focusing instead on “the box,” a single-unit device that would contain everything a person could possibly need. So, was it straight denial or simple ignorance that prevented media owners and managers to effectively plan for the big changes that awaited their industry.

What seems most ironic about their lack of preparedness is their density when it comes to understanding how Web 2.0 technology might help sustain their survival. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t the media mergers and acquisitions that permeated the industry throughout the last two decades provide the necessary momentum for companies to invest heavily in new technologies and research ways to reach evolving demographics, you know, before it’s too late? Three years ago, Amazon introduced the world to Kindle, a portable reading device with the ability to download published content. That’s right, folks, Amazon. A company that has been in existence almost 15 years stepped up to the plate and met a challenge that major newspaper conglomerates, whose roots could technically classify them as antiques, claimed they didn’t even know existed.

Now, these entities are in trouble and many argue that the fabric of free press is unwinding as they reach to the state for assistance. Industry gatekeepers are quick to shine a light on companies like Google as the source of their problems, an organization whose innovative technologies actually help to direct traffic to their websites and organize advertising into a profitable source of income for online businesses. These dispatches of blame are little more than scapegoats for industry captains who knowingly ignored the coming tide of change, choosing instead to focus on diminished quality to increase profits in the short term. Today, the result is a digital transference of industry, with ideas of promising Web 3.0 technology plowing forward towards an updated press that utilizes interactive social networks, blogs, and online forums to produce and deliver the next generation of news, despite a lack of participation from its traditional counterparts.