Let's Talk

You might not think I'd have much in common with NPR's Susan Stamberg.

But guess what?

Like her, when I'm at a party, I go around and ask people questions. Interview them, even.

And I'm not talking about the people I know.

Stamberg was at UR today to talk about her life as a cultural corespondent as part of the Crimmel Colloquium.

That would be the one that advances the cause of a liberal education.

Go, team!

Beginning by asking us for a show of hands as to who listened to NPR (nearly everyone in the room), she quipped, "Wow! It used to be just my mother."

Her humor continued. "I know it's hard to put the face with the voice. Close your eyes," she instructed. "This is National Public Radio."

Laughter and applause followed.

A founding member of NPR, she went on to regale us with her life, her opinions and her experiences.

She made a slave of me when she said, "It all began with reading. But then, doesn't everything?"

Yes, it does.

Talking about "All Things Considered," she said the goal was to redefine the news. Well done, Susan et al.

Now that she's a cultural correspondent, she's also a preacher for why it's so important to include the arts when telling the news.

"I would choose five minutes with a  performance artists over five hours with Paul Ryan," she said to laughter, explaining that she wants to spend her time with creative people. "If this world is to be saved, it won't be by the politicians."

Amen.

She described interviewing, a process with which I am intimately familiar, as "a conversation designed to be overheard."

She bested me on childhood, though, saying that as adults, some of her childhood friends had admitted that they didn't like sleepovers at her house because she'd keep them up all night asking questions.

Not me. I'd ask questions until I got tired, but sleep always wins out with me.

When someone's phone rang mid-lecture, she didn't miss a beat, but inserted "Turn it off!" in a sing-song but stern voice, qualifying it with, "Unless it's George Clooney."

Of course she had great interview stories.

Writer Joan Didion was her favorite, although she didn't hesitate to say that her last book was too raw to read.

She raved about how in a 1982 interview with author Saul Bellow, he'd expressed concern about the news media shortening our attention spans.

Bellow told her that "we live in a world of distracting substitutes for reality."

Since it couldn't be more true today, I've no doubt Saul is spinning in his grave.

After a lively lecture, Stamberg graciously took questions, no doubt the exact same ones she gets at every talk.

When asked if  NPR had a liberal bias, she cracked, "You know, I've never been asked that."

But she went on, "I think we are just like a liberal arts education. No issue can't be raised in our public forum. Oh, did you mean politically? That's ridiculous."

As for the future of NPR in thirty years, she said, "First, I drink to your health," a nod to the member-supported stations but then admitted it was unlikely, like print media, to last much longer.

Her interview that didn't go as planned was with David Crosby who walked out of the studio after being asked a question (supplied by an NPR colleague) he didn't want to answer.

She wanted to run it with the silence ("Quiet is golden on radio") but her producer nixed that idea.

But it was her last story that was the best and no famous names were involved.

Years ago, she'd been walking through the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris when she spied a woman on a bench with a "Let's talk" sign on her lap.

Miss Lilly, a former interpreter for NATO, took her sign everywhere as a way of encouraging conversation with strangers.

Her only rules were no sex, no politics, no religion ("That's how wars begin," Stamberg said Miss Lily told her).

Miss Lilly saw it as her mission to get people talking.

But that's not even the best part of a woman holding a sign like that.

Miss Lilly said that a young woman couldn't do it because it would be titillating.

A man couldn't do it because it would be unnerving.

But an older woman could do it because it was non-threatening.

That's right.

I'm already considering where I can sit with my sign.

No, it's not an original idea, but I think it's brilliant.

Thanks for asking, Susan.