future).”
Nixon’s suspicions and need for control of the press often came together. Around the period of his banishing the
Times
, the President complained to Haldeman that “K[issinger] went to L.A.
Times
again—
Why?
” A year later, he ordered
Time
and
New Republic
White House reporters Hugh Sidey and John Osborne excluded from receiving White House news summaries and cut off from interviews. Nixon claimed to have unimpeachable evidence that both reporters had said derogatory things in circles “where you really find out what the people think—the Georgetown cocktail parties.” Nixon was livid. “There is no appeal whatever—I do not want it discussed with me any further,” he told Haldeman. He ordered Haldeman to crack down on White House “prima donnas”—Kissinger?—who continued to give interviews. 5
The relationship between Nixon and the media was not confined to hostility and conflict, however. The media form a vague, amorphous entity, difficult to define precisely or clearly understand. Nixon’s papers reveal a steady torrent of his familiar diatribes against the press. No doubt they were genuinely felt. Yet leading journalists—from press lords, to television executives, to working reporters—moved easily in Nixon’s company and Administration circles. That kind of familiarity resulted in a press bonanza that newspaper owners had been unable to reap from Lyndon Johnson’s Administration.
Competition from television, along with burgeoning costs, had resulted in the steady closings of major newspapers, particularly in the large metropolitan areas. New York City, which once had boasted as many as twelve dailies, was down to three by the 1970s. Typically, large cities had a morning and an afternoon paper, with the latter generally lagging because of its head-to-head competition with evening television news. The mounting economic woes in newspaper publishing dictated cooperative ventures, in which competing newspapers merged their printing facilities and business offices. One of the net effects was to create local monopoly situations in printing classified advertising. In response, the government brought antitrust proceedings, winning in the lower court in 1965 and in the Supreme Court four years later. Meanwhile, the newspapers sought support for a legislative exemption from the antitrust laws, which would allow them to combine and so survive.
In June 1969, the Nixon Administration’s new Assistant Attorney General for the Anti-Trust Division, Richard W. McLaren, testified against the proposed Newspaper Preservation Act. The Democratic-dominated Judiciary subcommittee appeared pleased with the Administration’s position, but the White House had yet to hear from its friends. Richard Berlin, President ofthe Hearst Corporation, had neither hostility toward the newly elected President nor any compunctions about asking him to support the antitrust exemption. Berlin spoke of the matter as one of “common interest to both you and me,” and gently reminded the President that “important publishers and friends of your administration” needed the exemption. “All of us look to you for assistance.” Berlin spelled it out a bit more bluntly for McLaren. He told him that the affected newspaper publishers almost unanimously supported Nixon in 1968. “It therefore seems to me,” Berlin said, “that those newspapers should, at the very least, receive a most friendly consideration.” Finally, Berlin complained that the publishers had “become the victims and the targets” of a dated, narrow economic philosophy.
The friends Berlin spoke of represented the publishing chains of Hearst, Scripps-Howard (which controlled United Press International), Cox, Knight, Newhouse, and Block. While the exemption involved only a few of their newspapers, these chains combined reached forty million readers. Berlin’s message came through loud and clear. Congress passed the Newspaper Preservation Act in 1969, and
Nixon’s suspicions and need for control of the press often came together. Around the period of his banishing the
Times
, the President complained to Haldeman that “K[issinger] went to L.A.
Times
again—
Why?
” A year later, he ordered
Time
and
New Republic
White House reporters Hugh Sidey and John Osborne excluded from receiving White House news summaries and cut off from interviews. Nixon claimed to have unimpeachable evidence that both reporters had said derogatory things in circles “where you really find out what the people think—the Georgetown cocktail parties.” Nixon was livid. “There is no appeal whatever—I do not want it discussed with me any further,” he told Haldeman. He ordered Haldeman to crack down on White House “prima donnas”—Kissinger?—who continued to give interviews. 5
The relationship between Nixon and the media was not confined to hostility and conflict, however. The media form a vague, amorphous entity, difficult to define precisely or clearly understand. Nixon’s papers reveal a steady torrent of his familiar diatribes against the press. No doubt they were genuinely felt. Yet leading journalists—from press lords, to television executives, to working reporters—moved easily in Nixon’s company and Administration circles. That kind of familiarity resulted in a press bonanza that newspaper owners had been unable to reap from Lyndon Johnson’s Administration.
Competition from television, along with burgeoning costs, had resulted in the steady closings of major newspapers, particularly in the large metropolitan areas. New York City, which once had boasted as many as twelve dailies, was down to three by the 1970s. Typically, large cities had a morning and an afternoon paper, with the latter generally lagging because of its head-to-head competition with evening television news. The mounting economic woes in newspaper publishing dictated cooperative ventures, in which competing newspapers merged their printing facilities and business offices. One of the net effects was to create local monopoly situations in printing classified advertising. In response, the government brought antitrust proceedings, winning in the lower court in 1965 and in the Supreme Court four years later. Meanwhile, the newspapers sought support for a legislative exemption from the antitrust laws, which would allow them to combine and so survive.
In June 1969, the Nixon Administration’s new Assistant Attorney General for the Anti-Trust Division, Richard W. McLaren, testified against the proposed Newspaper Preservation Act. The Democratic-dominated Judiciary subcommittee appeared pleased with the Administration’s position, but the White House had yet to hear from its friends. Richard Berlin, President ofthe Hearst Corporation, had neither hostility toward the newly elected President nor any compunctions about asking him to support the antitrust exemption. Berlin spoke of the matter as one of “common interest to both you and me,” and gently reminded the President that “important publishers and friends of your administration” needed the exemption. “All of us look to you for assistance.” Berlin spelled it out a bit more bluntly for McLaren. He told him that the affected newspaper publishers almost unanimously supported Nixon in 1968. “It therefore seems to me,” Berlin said, “that those newspapers should, at the very least, receive a most friendly consideration.” Finally, Berlin complained that the publishers had “become the victims and the targets” of a dated, narrow economic philosophy.
The friends Berlin spoke of represented the publishing chains of Hearst, Scripps-Howard (which controlled United Press International), Cox, Knight, Newhouse, and Block. While the exemption involved only a few of their newspapers, these chains combined reached forty million readers. Berlin’s message came through loud and clear. Congress passed the Newspaper Preservation Act in 1969, and
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