What Watergate means to me

Redford and Hoffman as Woodward and Bernstein

Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, the famed Washington Post investigative reporters who broke the Watergate story in 1972, were at UT this past week to commemorate the 35th anniversary of the movie and book,  All the President's Men.  Robert Redford, who produced the movie and played Bob Woodward in the movie, joined the two journalists on several panels at the LBJ Auditorium.   I attended both panel discussions, having stood in line several weeks ago for free tickets.

The day was a celebration of old school investigative journalism, where editors and the news culture supported gumshoe detective style reporting.  Like old friends at a reunion, Woodward, Bernstein and Redford told the back stories, cracked jokes and reflected on their experiences.

Robert Redford, Bob Woodward, and Carl Bernstein

It was also a reunion of sorts for the 700+ audience members who packed into the LBJ auditorium for the evening panel.  At 47, I felt like a kid again experiencing the Watergate scandal like a 9 year old as most of the people around me in the audience looked my mother's age. All of us, whatever age, had collectively experienced that period from June 17, 1972, the break-in of Democratic National Committee office to August 9, 1974, the date of Nixon's departure from Washington.  When Woodward and Bernstein told of watching Ford pardon Nixon on live television on a Sunday morning in 1974, everyone around me nodded their heads in memory.

I experienced Watergate as a kid through the voices of the radio journalists on KOA, Denver's radio news station.  My dad was a news junkie, as he listened to KOA almost 24/7.  A market leader in sports and news, KOA was one of the few Denver radio signals that made it all the way out to the eastern plains of Eastern Colorado. At 9, I was not really sure what was going on, but I knew it was big because of the reactions of the adults around me.  I remember one morning as I was getting ready for school, my dad asked to me step out the kitchen so I wouldn't hear the radio replay the tape of Nixon cursing and talking belligerently.  My dad wanted me to respect the office of the president, even if Nixon didn't.

And yes, like many of the nodding people in the audience this week, I remember that hot summer day when Nixon left the White House. My family and I were living in Lawrenson Hall, the family housing dorm on the campus of University of Northern Colorado. My mom was finishing up her Master's degrees in Spanish and French.  My dad and I joined her in Greeley that summer.  As we all sat on the avocado and orange plaid couch, I saw Nixon flash his double V arm signal before entering the helicopter.

Later in Spring of 1975, KOA radio would bring the last final hours of the American evacuation of Saigon to our kitchen as I did my homework on the kitchen table.  My dad, leaning his chair against the wall near the radio and me sitting at the table with my books open, were mesmerized by the images coming at us from the radio.

I felt safe with my parents next to me as I followed these world events, vaguely aware of the contrast between peaceful and violent transfers of powers, yet smitten by the storytelling power of journalism. Seeing Woodward and Bernstein celebrate journalism this week at UT reminded me that my professional interest in media and culture started in part with Watergate, radio journalism, a dad who loved to hear (and tell) great stories.

Images on the screen before the start of the evening's panel....

Washington Post editorial meeting

Reporting notes from Watergate story

Bernstein and Woodward watch Nixon on TV