Monday night started like any other. At the last minute I got a ticket to see Tim Russert, far and away one of the most important journalists working in American media today, at the Open Visions Forum. As an avid fan of his Sunday morning news program, Meet the Press, the longest-running show in television history, I anticipated this as being the most relevant Forum of my four years here at Fairfield. I headed down to the Quick Center with a sense of quiet anticipation tempered by the stern command of our photo editor, Katie McCarthy, to get a good picture of Russert for the paper.
With a Mirror camera in tow, I asked the appropriate Forum official for press credentials to shoot during the lecture.
“Oh, you’re from the Mirror! He’ll speak to you!” she said.
I wish I could have seen my face at that moment so that I could witness my jaw independently dislocate itself from the rest of my head and fall to the ground.
“Do you have any questions for him? Here, come on, let’s go!”
Before I had a chance to shout “God no! Not like this!” we were already on our way.
That sense of quiet anticipation was quickly replaced by the acrid taste of my pizza dinner churning violently in my stomach. As we navigated through the throng of gatherers in the Quick Center lobby on our way to the greenroom, I quickly took stock of my appearance: a tattered, two-to-three-year-old oxford shirt untucked out of wrinkled khaki pants which fell unpresentably to my worn-out leather sandals which, incidentally, reeked. Realizing that I was unprepared for this interview in every measurable way, the voice of a high-school teacher of mine echoed through my head, repeating in the wise, taunting, and inoffensively sarcastic tone that only a priest can utter, “Way to go, ace!”
Any interviewer who is worth his salt would already have several questions and follow-ups in mind heading into such an important exchange. I, however, had between 50 and 80 seconds to come up with a line of questioning for the man chosen to represent “the press,” the only profession mentioned in the U.S. Constitution, in interviews with only the most important newsmakers of our age.
I walked into the greenroom, and there he was, sitting on a couch chatting with Fr. Von Arx, Dr. Orman, and Dr. Eliasoph. The three extraneous people left the room, and there I was, one on one, face to face, with Tim Russert.
I introduced myself, and then instinctively looked at my notepad for the first question.
Seeing the blank page, I remembered that I had no questions.
In the blur that followed, Mr. Russert told me about his experiences in New Orleans, and his dual role as a journalist and an American citizen reporting this sobering news to the people. During this formal part of the exchange, I was writing so furiously in my notepad to quote him that very few of the notes are legible a day later.
After that, easily the best and worst day of my entire life, my dad asked me over the phone if I thought I made a good impression. I assured him that “I’m actually pretty sure I left no impression, but I really don’t care. I met him.”
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