I remember it was a hot Medford summer day. Probably in the 90s.
Sunny and bright.
I was a young, liberal reporter. Firebrand. Inexperienced – less than five years in the biz.
At the time, Southern Oregon was a hotbed of conservative, political evangelicals who were just tasting the success of early victories.
The movement drew the attention of Jerry Falwell who was establishing himself as the face of the political evangelics.
To me, it was a slippery slope. In fact, it was the dawning of the age of Reagan and the new right. A time when an evangelic jihad would eventually draw neo-cons like Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld to the Capitol as part of the Reagan revolution.
At the time, I had no idea how far these ideas would pull this country to the right. I merely had a youthful instinct and innocence that our country should not confuse faith with the operation of government and justice.
As his car pulled into the church parking lot on that hot day, I was ready. How dare he invite confusion between church and state.
The car doors opened. Local ministers got out and looked suspiciously at the gaggle of reporters waiting. Falwell emerged.
Without hesitation, he gracefully moved to us.
No fear in his face.
Almost a loving countenance.
He was peppered with questions.
After each question, he smiled a loving smile. It was as if the reporters’ hostile questions were of no concern. He was not troubled in any way.
As others asked him questions and he answered, I looked deep at this man.
I had never felt such magnetism, such charisma.
I could feel a part of me saying, "toss down your tape recorder and follow this man wherever he goes."
I could easily see how Falwell – or any others before him with this…gift, this power, could take command of a flock.
I did not abandon my tape recorder or my reporting career on that day. I went back to the newsroom and wrote up a story about Fallwell’s observations. I would go on to interview several presidents and movie stars. Years later, my memory of those folks have dimmed. But after these many, many years since that hot summer day, I can still see his smile and hear his words. I can still remember the unique magnetism that was Falwell.
Sunny and bright.
I was a young, liberal reporter. Firebrand. Inexperienced – less than five years in the biz.
At the time, Southern Oregon was a hotbed of conservative, political evangelicals who were just tasting the success of early victories.
The movement drew the attention of Jerry Falwell who was establishing himself as the face of the political evangelics.
To me, it was a slippery slope. In fact, it was the dawning of the age of Reagan and the new right. A time when an evangelic jihad would eventually draw neo-cons like Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld to the Capitol as part of the Reagan revolution.
At the time, I had no idea how far these ideas would pull this country to the right. I merely had a youthful instinct and innocence that our country should not confuse faith with the operation of government and justice.
As his car pulled into the church parking lot on that hot day, I was ready. How dare he invite confusion between church and state.
The car doors opened. Local ministers got out and looked suspiciously at the gaggle of reporters waiting. Falwell emerged.
Without hesitation, he gracefully moved to us.
No fear in his face.
Almost a loving countenance.
He was peppered with questions.
After each question, he smiled a loving smile. It was as if the reporters’ hostile questions were of no concern. He was not troubled in any way.
As others asked him questions and he answered, I looked deep at this man.
I had never felt such magnetism, such charisma.
I could feel a part of me saying, "toss down your tape recorder and follow this man wherever he goes."
I could easily see how Falwell – or any others before him with this…gift, this power, could take command of a flock.
I did not abandon my tape recorder or my reporting career on that day. I went back to the newsroom and wrote up a story about Fallwell’s observations. I would go on to interview several presidents and movie stars. Years later, my memory of those folks have dimmed. But after these many, many years since that hot summer day, I can still see his smile and hear his words. I can still remember the unique magnetism that was Falwell.
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