Politicians’ act of yelling at reporters for questions that prick their innards did not begin with President Trump’s tirades, but surely he has perfected the art.
I wonder if he has ever thought that reporters who reach the pinnacle of covering
the White House wouldn’t care one ounce how or what a hot-blooded politician yells at him or her?
I’ve noticed that not one target of his caterwauling at the coronavirus pandemic pressers has flinched. Trump goes to pieces over questions from Kamiche Alcindor of the Public Broadcasting Service, who has covered everything from earthquakes, mass shootings, the Trayvon Martin situation and presidential campaigns.
She’s taken his wrath about as philosophically as possible. In an interview, Alcindor noted that she’s “not the first human being, woman, black person or journalist” to draw Trump’s petty ire. “My take: Stay focused. Remember your purpose. And always press forward,” she said.
Trump also dislikes anybody connected with CNN, especially reporter Jim Acosta, who has stood face-to-face in asking tough questions of the president since he took office.
Another day Trump told Jonathan Karl of ABC-News that he would “never make it.” Karl has covered every beat in Washington and reported from 30 countries. He’s made it.
Some of these people buzzing him about the pandemic might have begun their careers grilling local officials with questions about paving private driveways, questionable deals on culverts and shaky travel receipts. There’s no better training for covering governors or presidents.
Most Mississippians who followed Gov. Kirk Fordice will recall his legendary outbursts. Most memorable was his threat to whip the backend of the late diligent Jackson television newsman Bert Case, who never cowered from assaults by politicians.
I had my own foofaraws with Fordice, who was kinda, sorta a buddy because it was my policy to try to keep the peace with my subjects.
One morning waiting before a breakfast speech of his, I offered the governor a handshake. He said, “I’m not gonna shake your hand. You’re part of the problem down there,” meaning the newspaper where I worked. We both got over it.
Once, he invited reporters to the Governor’s Mansion for a brown-bag lunch during his reelection bid. We were discussing the pro-education television ads featuring the wife of his opponent, Dick Molpus.
When we noted how appealing her ads seemed, Fordice broke out in a screaming falsetto voice, “Oh, aren’t these public schools just great … that’s Grade-A malarkey and y’all know it!” He shook my hand on the way out.
College football coaches are in a thin-skinned constellation of their own. There are not many like Steve Sloan (former Ole Miss coach), the ultimate congenial sort. Another former Rebel coach, Billy Kinard, was the opposite of Sloan on the job. Nobody ever asked Kinard a single question that he didn’t consider offensive.
Offstage, Kinard was more humane. But offstage is foreign territory to Mr. Trump.
