Haven't I seen you on TV?

Requiem from a talking head

Andy Warhol's statement that everyone will have fifteen minutes of fame has become a hackneyed cliche. The updated corollary, in our seventy-channel cable world, is that everyone will one day host his or her own talk show.

I have had my talk show, but no longer do. For five years, I was host and panelist for "The Catholic Forum," a cable TV show seen on Long Island and in Brooklyn and Queens, New York. The program, begun by Monsignor Francis Maniscalco, now spokesman for the U.S. bishops, was sponsored by my former employer, the Long Island Catholic newspaper. The format was simple: Gather together knowledgeable - are there any other? - journalists to expound upon grave issues of church, state, and culture.

In short, we were the "McLaughlin Group" for Catholics, four of us each week. We had spirited discussions about the pope, the president, the Catholic League, Bosnia, abortion, gay rights, and whatever topic was hot in the news.

When I began, I assumed no one was watching (we were up against Sunday football, after all). But much to my surprise, I found myself in laundromats, banks, and grocery stores being bestowed with perhaps our society's highest honor: People kept asking, "Didn't I see you on television?"

"Well, yes you did," I would modestly respond, beaming with pride that some of my insightful comments were penetrating the cable chatter.

My teen-aged son told me that some of his friends' grandparents - our demographics may well have been similar to "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" - were regular viewers. One grandmother even claimed that it was her favorite program. My son, of course, preferred football.

My father would call after each program with a review, sometimes blistering, sometimes favorable, especially if the views articulated on the program resonated with his own. My mother would remind me to get a haircut.

Every show had its own dynamic. Sometimes the panelists would get surly, and as host I would try to lighten the tone. Sometimes I felt the need to kick-start the discussion, so I would throw something provocative into the mix, a trick I learned growing up as a middle child during the '60s when the Vietnam War was regularly argued around our dining room table.

Half the time, I would be a panelist (my hosting role was shared with Rick Hinshaw, now of the Catholic League and formerly with the Long Island Catholic, who was considered to be a conservative counterweight to my views), and I could be as opinionated as any other panelist, perhaps more so.

What I discovered through five years of talking on television is that somewhere between the studio and the viewers' living room nuances get lost. Most of the reactions I heard focused on the suspicion of viewers that one panelist obviously didn't like another (which I can testify was untrue; we experienced no off-camera fisticuffs, just an occasional argument which continued after the show in the hallways of the studio).

At times the banter outweighed any subtlety. At the beginning of the Lewinsky-Clinton scandal, what I thought was my brilliant argument for the constitutional rights of the executive branch became interpreted, according to our fan mail, as pure Friend-of-Bill Democratic partisanship.

And we could be dead wrong. One panelist confidently predicted, back in 1994, that we would by now be in the middle of Bob Dole's first term as president.

I also discovered what made for bad television: preparation, or at least too much of it. What seemed like reasoned, well thought-out discourse in the studio, once seen on television, became long and rambling, daring viewers to channel surf.

We also discovered that discussions about events beyond our shores generated little enthusiasm. We could all agree that we were opposed to genocide in Bosnia, but foreign events were generally a topic panelists - with one notable exception - talked about only reluctantly. But throw in something about gay rights, and we got some lively television going.

Although we operated the program under the auspices of the Diocese of Rockville Centre, we were given a largely free hand. I can't recall a discussion which didn't air because of censorship concerns. I'm not saying that some of the station powers-that-be didn't get antsy.

The biggest concern was over sexuality issues, defined here as broadly as possible. One could spout off about genocide in Rwanda and Bosnia, and get little reaction. But my phone would be ringing off the hook with calls from viewers about any panelist who strayed anywhere near what was perceived as unorthodox thought on gay rights, women's ordination, or abortion.

Perhaps our hottest discussion, ironically enough, centered on a television show. The discussion about ABC-TV's "Nothing Sacred" got a bit testy. Mr. Hinshaw was put in the unenviable position of being the sole defender of the Catholic League's opposition, a job he did as well as possible considering the dubiousness of his case.

During the first few years of "The Catholic Forum," I was nervous about the entire enterprise, wondering if I was qualified enough to expound on television. But my view relaxed considerably when I watched the McLaughlin show one day. The panelists were discussing some arcane point of Kremlin politics. I got the sneaking suspicion that they knew as much about the inside workings of the Kremlin as I knew about many of the topics we chatted about on "The Catholic Forum." We were all relatively well-informed and well-read, but rarely did we have the inside-expert status that television exposure seems to automatically grant.

So I am leaving the show, basically because I have left my job at the Long Island Catholic for somewhat greener pastures (even television hosts sometimes have to pay for college tuitions). The program, I am told, will be on hold until another host can be found.

Some, upon hearing that I have moved on, commiserate. "Will you continue the show?" they ask, insinuating that it would take some temporary insanity to voluntarily forgo television exposure.

"No," I say sadly, mulling over what a great opportunity I am giving up to share my wisdom about recent news events, including the Vatican moves on theologians, Rudy Giuliani's cantankerous mayoralty, and, of course, the whole Bill-Monica-Linda-Ken constitutional saga.

But then it was a good run. It's time to move on. My fifteen minutes, after all, have lasted five years, long enough for just about anyone.

Peter Feuerherd is a frequent Commonweal contributor.