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..Z1532 NXNHPR U BC-NY-PALEY:235PES SKED 11-12 0602 PALEY, BROADCAST
PIONEER, EULOGIZED AT MEMORIAL SERVICE

BY FREDERICK M. WINSHIP

UPI SENIOR EDITOR

NEW YORK (UPI) - NETWORK RADIO AND TELEVISION PIONEER WILLIAM S. PALEY WAS PRAISED MONDAY FOR HIS REVOLUTIONARY ROLE IN ENTERTAINMENT AND BROADCAST JOURNALISM AT A MEMORIAL SERVICE AT TEMPLE EMANU-EL ATTENDED BY MORE THAN 2,500 FRIENDS AND ASSOCIATES.

MOURNERS LED BY FORMER PRESIDENT RICHARD M. NIXON NEARLY FILLED THE VAST UPPER FIFTH AVENUE SANCTUARY AT A SERVICE MARKED BY PALEY'S FAVORITE MUSIC BY MENDELSSOHN AND BACH AND EULOGIES BY DR. FRANK STANTON, RETIRED PRESIDENT OF CBS, FINANCIER DAVID ROCKEFELLER, FORMER SECRETARY OF STATE HENRY KISSINGER, FORMER U.N. DELEGATE MARIETTA TREE, AND TV JOURNALIST WALTER CRONKITE.

"HE WAS MY BOSS FOR 40 YEARS AND I AM UNABASHED AND UNASHAMED OF MY ADMIRATION FOR BILL PALEY," CRONKITE SAID, CITING A PROFOUND DEVOTION TO FREEDOM OF THE PRESS AS ONE OF THE OUTSTANDING ASPECTS OF THE CHARACTER OF THE CBS BOARD CHAIRMAN AND FORMER PRESIDENT WHO DIED TWO WEEKS AGO AT 89.

"HE TOOK AN INTIMATE INTEREST IN THE NEWS DEPARTMENT OF CBS, BUT TAMPERING WITH ITS PRODUCT - NEVER!" CRONKITE SAID. "THE INTEGRITY OF CBS NEWS PREVAILED AND I KNOW IT HAPPENED ON BILL PALEY'S WATCH."

THE MOST ELOQUENT TRIBUTE WAS PAID BY STANTON, CBS PRESIDENT FOR 25 YEARS AND A CLOSE ASSOCIATE OF PALEY, WHOM HE DESCRIBED AS A "TRULY EXTRAORDINARY MAN."

"BILL PALEY WAS A REVOLUTIONARY," STANTON SAID. "NOTHING DAUNTED HIM AND BY HIS COURAGE AND VISION HE BUILT AN INDUSTRY AND CHANGED THE WORLD. HE WAS A MASTER BUILDER, AND CBS WAS HIS MONUMENT. HIS REVOLUTION BECAME A MODEL FOR THE INDUSTRY."

STANTON EMPHASIZED THAT CBS UNDER PALEY WAS THE FIRST NETWORK TO ORIGINATE SHOWS, RATHER THAN LEAVING IT TO ADVERTISERS. AND THEN SELL TIME TO ADVERTISERS, A CONCEPT THAT MADE THE GROWTH OF COMMERCIAL TELEVISION POSSIBLE.

"ABOVE ALL, HE WAS A SHOWMAN," STANTON SAID. "PROGRAMMING WAS HIS LIFE AND HIS GENIUS. TO HIM THE MESSAGE WAS THE MEDIUM, AND THE BEST WAY TO DO WELL WAS TO BE GOOD. AND BEING BEST TO BILL DIDN'T MEAN JUST BEING GOOD, IT MEANT BEING RIGHT.

"HE WAS DEVOTED TO THE FAIRNESS DOCTRINE IN BROADCAST JOURNALISM, JUST AS HE BELIEVED DEEPLY IN BROADCAST JOURNALISM'S RIGHTS TO THE SAME FREEDOMS ENJOYED BY PRINT JOURNALISM. HE PERCEIVED THAT THE BEST WAY TO PRESERVE THESE FREEDOMS WAS TO USE THEM RESPONSIBLY."

ROCKEFELLER FOCUSED ON PALEY'S ROLE IN AMERICAN CULTURE AS FOUNDER OF THE MUSEUM OF BROADCASTING AND PRESIDENT FOR 20 YEARS OF THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART, TO WHICH HE BEQUEATHED HIS ART COLLECTION WORTH HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS. KISSINGER FOCUSED ON PALEY'S SOLICITOUS AND CARING QUALITIES AS A FRIEND.

"WHAT FUN HE WAS TO BE WITH!" KISSINGER EXCLAIMED. "HE WAS LARGER THAN LIFE AND A MAN OF MANY PARADOXES." HE MARCHED TO HIS OWN DRUMMER. HE HAD COURTLY DIGNITY AND EXCESSIVE CHARM, AN ALL-ECOMPASSING AND ALL-ENHANCING PRESENCE. ... AMERICA TODAY CANNOT BE IMAGINED WITHOUT HIS LIFE'S WORK."

WHITE FLOWERS BANKED THE ALTAR LIT BY TWO HUGE MENORAH AS DR. RONALD B. SOBEL, SENIOR RABBI OF EMANU-EL, CONDUCTED A SERVICE WHICH INCLUDED TRIBUTES BY PALEY'S SONS, JEFFREY AND WILLIAM, WHO SAID HIS FATHER'S LIFE WAS ``A BANQUET AT WHICH HE WAS NEVER SATED.''

THE SERVICE WAS ATTENDED BY PALEY'S OTHER TWO CHILDREN AND TWO STEPCHILDREN, MOMA PRESIDENT RICHARD OLDENBURG, TIME WARNER PRESIDENT STEVE ROSS, SOCIAL LEADER BROOKE ASTOR, CBS PRESIDENT LAURENCE TISCH, HISTORIAN ARTHUR SCHLESINGER, ATTORNEY ARTHUR LIMAN, ARCHITECT PHILIP JOHNSON, FASHION DESIGNERS OSCAR DE LA RENTA AND MARY MCFADDEN.

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------R A AM-PALEYMEMORIAL

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CBS FOUNDER WILLIAM S. PALEY EULOGIZED BY KISSINGER, CRONKITE

LASERPHOTO NY12

BY JAY SHARBUTT

AP TELEVISION WRITER

NEW YORK (AP) - WALTER CRONKITE AND HENRY KISSINGER, ONCE ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE FENCE, JOINED MONDAY IN HAILING CBS FOUNDER WILLIAM S. PALEY AS A BROADCASTING GIANT WHO SAFEGUARDED THE INDEPENDENCE OF CBS NEWS.

"MY VIEW MAY BE NARROW, BUT I AM CERTAIN THAT WE LIVE IN A BETTER COUNTRY TODAY, A BETTER WORLD BECAUSE OF HIM," THE FORMER CBS ANCHOR SAID AT A MEMORIAL FOR PALEY, WHO DIED OCT. 26 AT THE AGE OF 89.

PALEY WAS A REVOLUTIONARY "WHO SHAPED OUR INDUSTRY AND CHANGED OUR WORLD ... HE WAS A MASTER BUILDER AND CBS WAS HIS MONUMENT," SAID RETIRED CBS PRESIDENT FRANK STANTON, WHO PLAYED A PIVOTAL ROLE IN CBS' GROWTH.

ABOUT 2,500 PEOPLE, INCLUDING FORMER PRESIDENT RICHARD NIXON AND CARL BERNSTEIN, WHOSE WATERGATE REPORTS HELPED LEAD TO NIXON'S RESIGNATION, ATTENDED THE SERVICE.

KISSINGER, ONCE NIXON'S SECRETARY OF STATE AND NOW, LIKE CRONKITE, A CBS BOARD MEMBER, CALLED PALEY "LARGER THAN LIFE, A MAN OF MANY PARADOXES." HE SAID HE MET PALEY WHEN THE LATTER WAS IN HIS 70S.

["FOR AS LONG AS HE PERSONALLY KNEW PALEY, THE CBS CHAIRMAN WAS ``IMPERVIOUS TO MANY APPEALS TO INTERVENE WITH CBS NEWS,'' KISSINGER SAID.", ``BILL TOOK THE POSITION THAT THE CBS TEAM WAS BEYOND HIS REACH BECAUSE IT WAS DIFFERENT - THE BEST AND MOST DEDICATED GROUP OF JOURNALISTS THAT HAD EVER BEEN ASSEMBLED.''", "DURING HIS LIFE, PALEY, LIKE RIVAL NETWORK EXECUTIVES CAME UNDER PRESSURE FROM NIXON AIDES BECAUSE OF CBS REPORTS BOTH ON VIETNAM AND WATERGATE.", "CRONKITE DIDN'T REFER TO THAT IN HIS TRIBUTE.", "HE SAID PALEY HAD, FOR MORE THAN 50 YEARS, ``HELD STEADFAST'' TO A CONVICTION THAT ONLY A STRONG NEWS ORGANIZATION WITH ``A REPUTATION FOR FAIRNESS AND IMPARTIALITY COULD WITHSTAND THE INEVITABLE CHARGES OF BIAS AND PREJUDICE, AND THE INEVITABLE ATTEMPTS TO CORRUPT.''", ``PERHAPS HE DID BEND A LITTLE,'' CRONKITE ADDED LATER, WITHOUT ELABORATING. HE SAID HE DIDN'T KNOW ALL THAT WENT ON AT CBS HEADQUARTERS WHEN THERE WAS PRESSURE FROM GOVERNMENT FIGURES OR OTHER SOURCES.", ``WHAT I DO KNOW IS THAT THE INTEGRITY OF CBS NEWS PREVAILED ... AND I KNOW THAT IT HAPPENED ON BILL PALEY'S WATCH.''", "OTHER NOTABLES ATTENDING THE MEMORIAL INCLUDED FORMER CBS CORRESPONDENT DANIEL SCHORR, CBS ANCHOR DAN RATHER, NBC COMMENTATOR JOHN CHANCELLOR, NOVELIST KURT VONNEGUT, ``M.A.S.H.'' STAR ALAN ALDA, AND FORMER CBS PRESIDENT THOMAS WYMAN.", "THE LATTER WAS OUSTED IN A 1986 MANAGEMENT SHAKEUP, BUT WILL CONTINUE TO RECEIVE A $400,000 ANNUAL PENSION FROM CBS UNTIL HE DIES."]

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DR. HENRY KISSINGER: By the time our paths crossed, Bill Paley had already made an enduring contribution to American life and American culture. He was in his 70s, at an age when deep, new human relationships are rarely forged. Yet, almost miraculously, Bill and I became close friends, and I want to talk about Bill Paley as a friend. Of course, Bill was larger than life, a man of many paradoxes. He was a visionary with an uncanny sense for the future, but he was rarely able to explain how or why he recognized the many waves he rode. He hugely enjoyed his wealth, but he was not particularly interested in the process of amassing it, nor did he participate in the speculative frenzy of the '80s.

Infinitely gregarious, deeply reluctant to be alone, he was, nevertheless, encapsulated in the solitude of eminence. There was, however, nothing paradoxical about Bill's relations with his friends, on whom he bestowed an extraordinary solicitude, forever enquiring how one was and what one was doing, with whom, and why. He always surprised, by some totally unexpected of gesture of care and concern, right through the end of his life.

What fun Bill Paley was to be with. He conjured up an air of festivity simply by walking into a room. His face crinkled into that legendary, mischievous, boy's smile, his entire bearing, a challenge that he expected everybody to enjoy himself as much as he did, and that he was proposing to have a marvelous time.

I had the opportunity to travel with Bill Paley to many continents, always accompanied by the ubiquitous John Dean, his valet and friend, who loved him and spoiled him outrageously. Dean was in charge of the suitcases, bulging with Hungarian salami and other delicacies intended to buffer Bill from a sudden food shortage on alien turf. Dean was also responsible for coming as close as possible to whipping up the airplane menus which Bill devised in flagrant disregard of either customs or, indeed, of the technical possibilities of the areas through which we might be traveling.

On these trips, Bill vastly enjoyed meeting the various national leaders, who, in turn, were drawn to his courtly dignity and engaging charm. His assessments, afterwards, were always right on the mark, for Bill had a brilliant grasp of the essence of any problem to which he put his mind. Still, much as Bill valued meeting political leaders, foreign or home-grown, he avoided getting close to them personally. Perhaps this was because Bill suspected political leaders of being specialists in the quid pro quo, almost certainly because he did not want CBS to be under any political obligation whatsoever.

As caring as Bill was of his friends, he did not allow that commitment to infringe on his love affair with CBS. While I knew him, he was impervious to the many appeals that reached him to intervene with CBS News. Bill took the position that the CBS News team was beyond his reach, because it was simply the best and the most dedicated group of journalists that had ever been assembled. I once tried to tempt Bill with the suggestion that, since the days of Kant, philosophers had held the view that the human mind filtered knowledge through pre-existing categories. Why should reporters not have that axiom applied to them? Bill pretended not to understand. His attitude was that Kant wrote long before there was a CBS, and that a convoluted German philosopher could have no possible relevance to his baby at Black Rock.

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To hear Bill Paley talk about CBS, you knew it had not just happened; indeed, that no one but he could have made it happen that way. He had turned a dream into a reality by his imagination and courage, his persistence and his lifelong devotion.

Bill enjoyed life with such exuberance that his friends never quite faced that, someday, it had to end. Visiting him during his last illness, I found him dozing in a chair, all of him, really, quite spent. But at the sound of the visitor, he woke up, and that marvelous smile lit up his features.

"Tell me something amusing," he whispered. I knew what he wanted to hear, because we had gone through the exercise during previous illnesses; so I recounted how, on our trip through the Middle East, he had fallen down a flight of stairs in Oman, hitting his head on every step, and how, the next day, his bandaged head giving him the appearance of some exotic sheik, we flew for 16 hours, via Malta, to Marrakesh, ending the day's adventures at two in the morning with a sumptuous dinner that he, Bill Paley, had arranged. This tale was Bill's reassurance of indestructibility.

As he listened, his twinkling eyes and creased face exuded such serenity that, in a surge of euphoria, I convinced myself that this staunch old warrior would confound us all again, as he had three years before, during another illness, when everybody had given up but he himself. It was not to be.

When it happened, Bill's longtime friend, Carter Burden, captured the Bill Paley so many of us treasured in a eulogy from which I'd like to read a brief extract. Quote, "At John Dean's funeral, only a few weeks ago, Bill decided to speak extemporaneously. He staggered up to the podium, and began by profusely thanking the startled clergyman for composing the Lord's Prayer especially in Dean's honor. He then announced, somewhat uncertainly, that Robert Dean had worked for him forever, and you knew the dear old boy had lost it at last. But then Bill, with his unfailing sense of occasion, began to talk straight from his valiant old heart. 'John Dean was my friend,' he said, 'and I believe that, someday, probably very soon, we will meet again.' I truly hope Bill was right, because I can see it all so clearly—Dean up there, fussing maternally over his beloved, spoiled-rotten boss; Bill, eating 12 meals a day, loving Babe, gossiping away with friends, watching several TVs simultaneously, scribbling notes, pleased as punch, twinkling away like that bright, shining star he always was and always will be." End of quote.

In the end, a man's life is measured by the difference he made. And about Bill, it is enough to say that America today cannot be imagined without his life's work, nor can the lives of his friends, without his phone calls, his subtle or not so subtle, but oh-so-persistent suggestions, his all-encompassing, life-enhancing presence. A giant among men, Bill Paley, of necessity, marched to his own drummer. He honored his friends by letting them accompany him part of the way. His death leaves us lonelier and emptier, but none of us would trade places with those who did not have the good fortune of knowing Bill Paley at all.

WILLIAM S. PALEY MEMORIAL

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(Prelude of selections by Felix Mendelssohn played by organist Anthony Newman)

(Temple Emanu-El Choir sings "Psalm 23")

DR. RONALD SOBEL (Senior Rabbi, Temple Emanu-El): Great truths are greatly won, not found by chance, nor wafted on the breath of summer dream, but grasped in the great struggle of the soul, hard buffeting with adverse wind and stream, not in the general mart with corn and wine, not in the merchandise of gold and gems, not in the world's gay halls of midnight mirth, not mid the blaze of regal diadems, but in the day of conflict, fear and grief, when the strong hand of God put forth in might plows up the subsoil of the stagnant heart and brings the imprisoned truth seed to the light. Wrung from the troubled spirit in hard hours of work, of weakness, solitude, perchance of pain, truth springs like harvest from the well-plowed field and the soul feels that it has not wept in vain.

And so it is true that heaven, neither heaven above nor heaven here below, can be entered by rest or ease or quiet. Only those who do and endure greatly achieve greatly. The world's greatest workers and finest thinkers have only reached the pinnacle of fame by surmounting obstacles which, to ordinary men and women, content with the lower slopes, would have seemed insuperable. Man, woman, has ever risen nearer to God on the altar stairs of creative thought with its accompanying pain, diligent labor with its ultimate fulfillment, those altar stairs which lead forever upward toward the very throne of God.

(Choir sings "Why Art Thou Cast Down")

FRANK STANTON: Each of us here today, family and friends, has a different set of memories of a truly extraordinary man. Yet, after an association of more than 50 years, it's hard to know where to begin. Bill Paley was a revolutionary. Nothing daunted him; and, by his boldness and brilliance, he shaped an industry and changed our world. He was a master builder; CBS was his monument.

He had a greater impact on entertainment and the coverage and delivery of news than anyone else in this or any other century. His CBS programs reached more people for more hours each day than any others. Few of the great events of our generation escaped his touch. His innovations largely determined the form and direction of radio and television in America. When he took over the fledgling radio network in 1928, it was losing money. At once, he derived a completely new structure that was better for CBS and better for the stations. Within weeks, he tripled the size of the original network. Almost overnight, CBS became profitable and that first Paley revolution became the model for the industry.

A decade later, when German troops moved into Austria at the time of the Anschluss, Bill Paley immediately got on the overseas phone and set in motion what became the World News Roundup. This revolutionized international broadcast reporting. It also ushered in a new era in the way Americans get their news.

Then, when World War II ended, he launched another revolution. He established the principle that the network, not the advertisers, would originate and produce its own programs, selling only time on those shows to the advertisers. This not only transformed network broadcasting, but also opened the way for the programming that kept CBS on top for 20 years.

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Bill Paley was a brilliant entrepreneur, an inspiring leader, but above all, he was a showman. Programming was his life and his genius. Marshall McLuhan to the contrary, Bill was convinced that the message is as significant as the medium, that the quality and appeal of CBS programs would determine the success of the network.

He sometimes said that in order to do good you have to do well, but he also believed that the best way to do well is to be good. Every season, he sought something new that would expand the frontiers of broadcasting, programs of the sort that had never been done before. And we got such classics as THE WALTONS, THE NEW YORK PHILHARMONIC, PLAYHOUSE 90, THE DEFENDERS, 60 MINUTES, and so many more.

In programming, as in everything else, Bill Paley was a perfectionist. He expected the best; the merely good would never do. To Bill, best didn't mean highbrow. He defended the public's right both to be informed and entertained, and he believed in the public's right to vote with its radio and television dials for the kind of entertainment its members wanted. But if they wanted comedy, he demanded the funniest. If they wanted adventure, he demanded the most gripping. If they wanted drama, he wanted the most compelling.

To Bill, being best didn't just mean winning; it meant doing right. He understood the great power of broadcasting and he knew, as he told the National Association of Broadcasters back in 1954, that this could be power for the good or evil. His call, then, for fairness and balance in the presentation of news and public affairs later became known as the Fairness Doctrine. He was vigorous in insisting that the broadcaster and not the government should police those standards, but equally insistent that the standards be maintained. He believed deeply in broadcasting's right to the hard-won freedoms print journalism enjoyed. He also recognized that with freedom goes responsibility, and that the best way to maintain and to deserve the freedoms we have is to use them responsibly.

His restless search for perfection drove him to the very end. In recent years, he gave more and more time and attention to another of his interests—the Museum of Broadcasting. Bill became passionate about the museum, not because it sustained the past, but because it speaks to the future.

As the museum's new home on 52nd Street was being planned, he was determined that its look should be exactly right. Philip Johnson was the architect. With infinite patience and skill, Philip did one design after another of the face of the structure, as Bill challenged and studied and pondered just what kind of arch should it have, just what kind of stone, just what kind of look. This went on until, after eight mechettes, he was finally satisfied that it was exactly right. And by the end of the process, of course, it was exactly right. The museum, through Bill's vision, will house the history of our times and be a priceless resource for tomorrow's students and for the coming generations.

So it was with William S. Paley. During our years together, we had our differences of opinion from time to time, but we shared a constant goal—the excellence of CBS. I owe him much. On a rainy Saturday afternoon almost 50 years ago, he gave me an extraordinary chance to be a working witness to the building of the great instruments of information and entertainment—radio and television. By all of us, he will be greatly missed.

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DAVID ROCKEFELLER: Bill Paley was a man of many talents and a broad array of interests. He loved life and he certainly lived it to the fullest. I suspect that his love of art ranked high among the things in his rich and extraordinary life that gave him the greatest pleasure. Bill did not pretend to be a scholar of art history, but he had an unerring eye that led him directly to works of unquestioned quality. He loved to look at beautiful paintings, he enjoyed owning them, and he particularly loved to savor them in his home and his office.

Less than a decade after the Museum of Modern of Art was founded by three remarkable ladies, including my mother, Bill was persuaded to join the board of the museum, and for more than 50 years, the museum remained a focal point of his artistic interests. In the early days, he and my brother Nelson were the Young Turks on the museum board, and supported Alfred Barr's daring excursions into the uncharted territory of modern and contemporary art. Bill's understanding of communications provided him with insights into modern culture that have been at the very center of the Modern's growth and expansion over the past 50 years. In 1960, my sister-in-law Blanchette and I called on Bill to ask him to become president of the museum. Bill was still deeply involved with the affairs of CBS at that time; he reluctantly declined. However, eight years later, we finally prevailed. Bill accepted the presidency, and, for the next 20 years, played a critical role in the museum's management and expansion. The pressures of running one of the world's premier communications companies never prevented him from giving generously of his time to the affairs of MOMA. Most recently, his leadership and support were essential to the expansion program which doubled the museum's facilities within the past decade.

Bill always derived particular pleasure from opportunities to acquire great works of art. Sometimes these bold forays met with success and sometimes they didn't. On one occasion, Bill joined with a group of us connected with MOMA to buy the Edward G. Robinson collection of 19th and 20th century French Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings. After long and thoughtful consultations, we made an offer on a group of the best of the collection only to find that Stavros Niarchos had bought the entire collection out from under us. Subsequent history showed that Stavros made a great deal. On another occasion, however, a similar syndicate was more fortunate. Bill joined with Jock Whitney, Andre Meyer, my brother Nelson, and myself, in bidding on the Gertrude Stein collection of Picassos and Juan Gris. A long and complicated negotiation ensued, but eventually, we succeeded in buying the collection with the understanding that at least six works of major importance would be left to the museum. We determined the order of selection by drawing numbered slips of paper from an old felt hat. Bill picked second and won his first choice, which was Picasso's "Standing Female Nude" of 1906. It is among the large number of masterpieces from his collection which Bill has so generously left to the museum.

Bill's imprint on MOMA is indelible. He loved the museum and made it an integral part of his life. He will be remembered for his accomplishments in many fields, but the art world, above all, owes him an enormous debt of gratitude.

Bill and I had lunch together for the final time only a few weeks ago. As was our custom on these occasions, we sat at a little table by the window in his library, underneath two small and irresistible paintings—a Bonnard and a Vuillard. He questioned me thoroughly about the museum. He said his health had prevented him from attending recent meetings, but that he planned to come back more often in the future. In spirit, I believe that he will do just that.

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WALTER CRONKITE: We all wish this day could have been much longer delayed, but I can speak of Bill Paley today without embarrassment. I can say those things that, if said before, would have sounded, I'm afraid, like a bid for another lucrative contract. Goodness knows, there were enough of those over the 40 years he was my boss. I am unabashed and unashamed in my admiration for Bill Paley. My view may be narrow, but I am certain that we live in a better country today, a better world, because of him. If our democracy rests on the principles of free speech and free press—and I believe we all would agree it does—then we owe him a deep debt of gratitude.

As he helped pioneer the broadcast network concept, he had no background, no training, no interest, as far as I know, in the gathering or dissemination of news; but some angel must have been looking after our destiny by putting Bill at the side of the cradle when commercial broadcasting was in its infancy. How or why, I don't know, but, somehow, the vision appeared to Bill that broadcasting had a much broader public responsibility than the mere turning of profits, and the news was the keystone of that responsibility.

With that executive perception for which he came to be noted, he picked the right men to run his news department, and he had, at his right hand, Dr. Stanton, also a novice in the news business, but also one with the conviction and the heart to fight for the imperative that broadcast news be independent and free. And, of course, with the beginning of World War II, he had Ed Murrow, a giant on the pinnacle of principle. Freedom for broadcast news meant freedom not only from the dictates of government, but freedom also from advertisers and from every special interest from labor organizations to religious orders. Bill saw that the only way this could be assured would be through the establishment and the maintenance of a strong news department whose reputation for fairness and impartiality could withstand the inevitable charges of bias and prejudice and the inevitable attempts to corrupt it. And he understood that such a reputation could not be maintained if there was the slightest suspicion that anyone inside or outside the company, other than those professional journalists chosen to do the job, had any influence in the preparation of the CBS News reports. He held steadfastly to that conviction for more than half a century, and at times, it certainly could not have been easy. Peer pressure from his contemporaries in the halls of industry and commerce, from government leaders he admired, from his friends in his social circle, from those whose opinions he honored in the arts—they created what, at times, must have been a nearly unbearable tension. Managing that tension was perhaps one of his greatest challenges, and meet it, he did. Now, you should not infer from all this that his was a totally hands-off management of the news department. He took an intimate interest in its functioning, but to tamper with the news content—no. Certainly, he would be involved in the style of news presentation. And the bottom line? You bet he was interested in the bottom line. But he never failed to give to the news managers that which they said they needed to set a standard for which CBS News was known the world over. One of our irreverent news presidents some years back became somewhat exasperated with Bill's daily criticisms of the morning news, not with content, mind you, again, but with placement of pictures, with the size of typefaces on graphics, with film and tape quality, and all the like. Finally, the irreverent president told him, or so the legend goes, "Mr. Paley, I don't think you understand. You're not a typical viewer. Morning news viewers are busy getting the kids ready for school, getting breakfast, shaving, doing whatever other little chores are demanded by the morning routine. They watch with half an eye and listen with half an ear. There's hardly any other person in the country, Mr. Paley, who gives the morning news his undivided attention, from opening to closing announcement, while his valet is serving him breakfast in bed." (Laughter)

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From my perspective, his particular genius was to bridge the gap between a healthy, thriving, innovative business and a vigorous, free and independent news organization. Oh, of course, there were times when it seemed that he might bend. Perhaps he did bend a little, at times. There were moments of doubt when the pressure from heads of government, on one side, or the all-important station affiliates on the other, or sometimes, or more frequently, on the same side, became most threatening. I don't pretend to know of all the councils of war that may have taken place on the 35th floor at Black Rock when he was assailed with his doubts. What I do know is that the integrity of CBS News prevailed, one of the finest and freest news organizations that has ever existed, and I know that it happened on Bill Paley's watch.

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MARIETTA TREE: Two of Bill's qualities I particularly loved—his zest for life and his zeal to achieve perfection. In this last, he was both a big brushstroke man—he really had "the vision thing"—from his dreams for news and the arts on CBS to his warnings over 40 years ago, as chairman of Harry Truman's Materials Policy Commission, that the country was rapidly using up its energy resources. And, at the same time, Bill was a fanatic for detail. He struggled and persisted and drove people mad, until he got things right. "God is in the details" was certainly his motto. To the building of Black Rock he gave all his talents and energy, and when the design process seemed to languish, he had a full-scale model made of three floors of the building's exterior, quite a rare approach, where it was easier to see what was wrong and correct it, according to his discerning eye. In this instance, with the three floors, he changed a window size by a half of an inch, and it made all the difference.

The first time I ever saw Bill was in a nightclub, at El Morocco. Across the floor, the dance floor, was a handsome, enormously happy man, surrounded by extremely pretty women. He radiated energy and high spirits as he expertly whirled each elegant lady around the floor, for, of course, he was a marvelous dancer. Later, when we had met, I was drawn to the Paleys, Bill and Dorothy, for their heightened awareness of the issues of the day, of art and artists, such as Matisse and Picasso, whom they visited at length in their studios in Paris to better understand and appreciate their art before buying the pictures.

And, of course, Bill constantly told us about the development of CBS and the communications industry. The serious talk was spiced with stories, jokes, fantasy, speculation, gossip, games of every kind, and delicious meals served every four hours. Bill's appetite, in all its forms, was voracious. Even after such a day of three or four meals, he often took his guests into his room around midnight for some scrambled eggs, which he expertly cooked in a miniature kitchen in the bedroom. Thus, staying at the Paleys, one would encounter a richness of friends, ranging from Thomas Mann to Sam Goldwyn, Ed Murrow, Lord Beaverbrook, and, happily for me, my future husband, Ronnie Tree. Kiluna, their weekend place, was a super-exciting place to be, and Bill was the source of the electricity. But here, it's appropriate to give Bill full praise for his choice of Dorothy, and later, Babe. Although quite different, they were both beautiful, remarkable, and talented women of character, who gave him both strength and comfort as well as bringing great luster to his life and to all around them.

Now years later, Bill took me to dinner one evening at a famous restaurant. Of course, the headwaiter and his starched minions bowed low when Bill, the great man, the great gourmet and patron of restaurants, walked in. I enjoyed all this flurry and fanfare from my place, one step behind him. When we settled on the banquette, 'midst the pink-shaded lights and the glittering silver, the headwaiter handed us menus. Then, Bill leaned toward me, took my hand, and looked deep into my eyes, with his most seductive smile, and said, "Darling, doesn't your heart beat faster when you see a new menu?" (laughter)

I had a dream a few nights ago that I was strolling in the park with Bill and a number of his friends. All of us understood that Bill had left us, but we were greatly enjoying his presence and the pleasant evening. He looked marvelous. Well, that's a perfectly straightforward dream, a metaphor that, although he was gone, he will always be with us in all his power.

WILLIAM S. PALEY MEMORIAL

11/12/90

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(Selections from Suite No. 3 for violincello in C Major, Sarabande, Bouree I and Bouree II by Johann Sevastian Bach performed by cellist Matthew Haimovitz)

WILLIAM C. PALEY: From my family to my father's CBS family, I would like to express our appreciation and thanks for all of those who have been with us in body and spirit in the last few weeks. Over the years, and especially in recent times, I thought how lucky I've been to be my father's son. I grew up surrounded by the finest examples of culture, creativity, power, and art, and up to a certain age, took them all for granted as normal and routine, but I found out the rest of the world was not our home in Kiluna Farm. I felt sad for those deprived as what I saw as necessities in life.

My father's great talent was his perception, and his art was the ability to choose the right thing and put it in the right place. This extended not just to his mastery of programming, but to the simplest things in life. I remember watching him arrange pencils on his desk with the precision and balance of Mondrian. His aim was no less accurate or effortless than a Zen Archer, his timing perfect, and his taste flawless. The phrase "appetite for life" might have been cooked up just for him. His appetite for food was legendary, but he also devoured experiences with the same relish that he might devour a hot dog at Paley Park. He savored the enjoyment of a work of art with the same feeling that he savored caviar on a blini. Life to him was a banquet at which he was never sated. He was a true force of nature, as elemental a phenomenon as magnetism.

My father had a tremendous love of beauty in all of its manifestations, the finest of which, of course, was my mother. They were a matchless combination made all the more special by their devotion to each other. As a child, they seemed to me like a god and goddess, and that perception was largely produced by watching their effect on others.

Many of the best memories are the simple ones, especially those from our camp in New Hampshire. On summer weekends, my father would sometimes arrive bearing a three-inch-thick sirloin steak. While he would arrange the coals just so, my mother would shuck the just-picked ears of New England white corn. Dad cooked the meat ever so slowly. I always thought much too slowly. For 45 minutes, the enticing aroma kept us in delicious torture. We children would gather to watch the master at work. While a pitcher of martinis dissolved his cares, he would tell us about the week's events in New York.

We would then sit down to our family dinner. Here, we would be investigated and probed about the week's activities. If we had played games, how'd we done? If we had gone camping, what had we seen, where we'd gone? We could boast about mastering the slalom ski or the fish that we'd caught in the lake, and bask in the glow of his encouragement and approval. He pushed us hard to participate in life and took enjoyment in our growth.

One day in the summer of 1964, my dad arrived at the camp wearing the grin of a cat who had swallowed a cage full of canaries. He said he had a surprise and we were to guess. Had he bought a new car? No. Were we going on a trip? No. Finally, as a clue, he produced a baseball cap. I knew what it was! I had been pestering him for the longest time to take me to a game and now he was going to. Wrong. He had bought the New York Yankees.

WILLIAM S. PALEY MEMORIAL

11/12/90

10

There was no prize in the world that my dad could have brought home to equal this.
Mantle, Maris, Peppitone, Kubeck, Berra, Ford. The greatest baseball team in the
universe. At least for a while.

In the evenings, after watching TV together, Dad would take me upstairs to his bedroom, where a sliding panel would roll away to reveal the miniature kitchen that my mother had had installed for him. He would pull out a frying pan and cook up knockwurst for the two of us. We would sit around on his bed and he would relate some lesson in life. I usually forgot the lesson, but I never forgot the feeling.

Due to the many demands on him, Dad was often not home in the evenings, and I was in the care of that ubiquitous babysitter—the television set. I saw TV, however, as few children do. I saw my father. He was television. Much like the illustration from *My Fair Lady* of George Bernard Shaw holding the strings for the actors, I saw my father's presence in that warm and glowing tube. His medium nurtured me, as it nurtured America, with stories, news, laughter, and song. In my father's bedroom, he had a beautiful, custom-made cabinet holding three TV sets vertically. I thought the job of watching these three screens, which he described as work, to be the best job a guy could have.

Every year, my father held a birthday party for himself, sort of a victory dinner.
Everyone in the family would pay homage to the patriarch. We would laugh, put on
skits, roast and praise him, and, of course, eat. Those were marvelous times, and,
there being 14 of us, it was a wonderful opportunity to gather as a whole family.
During the last few years, my father and I grew closer than ever. In that time, he
quizzed and provoked, lectured and scolded, condemned and condoned, and we grew
closer, able to appreciate and accept each other as never before. I now understand
the simple message he was trying to get through to me—to do the right thing and it
will speak for itself. Many warm and wonderful things have been said about him here
this morning. He touched so many lives, in so many ways, but for us he was, first
and foremost, our dad. I loved him deeply. I miss him terribly.

WILLIAM S. PALEY MEMORIAL

11/12/90

11

JEFFREY PALEY: We've listened this morning to stories and reminiscences about my father and the life he led over the course of 89 full and exciting years. Yet, in a certain sense, the story of my father's life began long before his life began in 1901, long before his parent's birth, and, in some respects, even long before the birth in Gutenberg in the 15th century, and the birth of moveable time and mass communications. In the same vein, his life will not end with his passing two weeks ago.

"The story of a man," writes Wendell Berry in his poem "Rising", "is a story not of time, but the forever returning events of light, ancient knowledge seeking its new minds. Any man's death could end the story. His mourners, having accompanied him to the grave through all he knew, turn back, leaving him complete. But," Berry continues, "this is not the story of a life, it is the story of lives knit together, overlapping in succession, rising again from grave to grave. For those who depart from it, burying it in their minds, the grave is a beginning. It has weighted the Earth with sudden new gravity, the enrichment of pain. There is a grave, too, in each survivor. By it, the dead one lives. He enters us, a broken blade—sharp, clear as a lens or a mirror—and he comes into us helpless. Tender is the newborn into the world. Great is the burden of our care. We must be true to ourselves. How else will he know us? Like a wound, grief receives him. Like graves, we heal over, and yet, keep as part of ourselves the severe gift. By grief, more inward than darkness, the dead become the intelligence of life. Where the tree falls, the forest rises. There is nowhere to stand, but in absence. No life, but in the fateful light. Ended, a story is history. It is in time with time lost, but if a man's life continues in another man, then the flesh will rhyme its part in a mortal song. By absence, he will come again."

My father's life, like the life of the man in Berry's poem, touched and was touched by so many people. His talent was that he could recognize their talent. His success was that he could facilitate and, thus, share in their success. Through his energy and his passion, he affected the lives of each one of us, and his standards and his tastes will stay with us for a very long time. We will remember them and look to them for guidance as we try to fashion higher standards, greater quality, wiser purposes, and a more understanding, more dignified, more enlightened world to leave to his grandchildren and their children. His life was knit together with ours, and through ours and the lives of our children, he shall continue to live.

RABBI: And so it is that the portrait has been painted, tenderly and lovingly by family, affectionately and with admiration by colleagues and friends and co-workers. William S. Paley: A man, like all other men, a man, like very few men. William S. Paley: A man who dreamt dreams and made those dreams realities, those realities now deeply embedded in the consciousness of the human family, a remarkable life for which we give thanksgiving, and now, a remarkable memory before which we stand in awe.

(Howard Nevison, Cantor, sings "El Mole Rachamim (God Full of Passion)"

RABBI: Oh God, full of compassion, thou who dwellest on high, grant perfect rest, we beseech thee, unto the soul of thy son, William S. Paley. Lord of mercy, bring him into thy presence and permit his soul to be bound up in the bond of eternal life. Oh beloved God, be thou his possession and may his repose be peace. William Paley, be at peace. Oh God, this is our prayer.

(Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach, Anthony Newman, organist)

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COME. HE HUGELY ENJOYED HIS WEALTH, BUT HE WAS NOT PARTICULARLY INTERESTED IN THE PROCESS OF AMASSING IT, NOR DID HE PARTICIPATE IN THE SPECULATIVE FRENZY OF THE EIGHTIES. INFINITELY GREGARIOUS, DEEPLY RELUCTANT TO BE EVER ALONE, HE WAS NEVERTHELESS ENCAPSULED IN THE SOLITUDE OF EMINENCE.

THERE WAS, HOWEVER, NOTHING PARADOXICAL ABOUT BILL'S RELATIONS WITH HIS FRIENDS. LIKE OTHER GENIUSES, BILL MARCHED TO HIS OWN DRUMMER BUT WHEN IT CAME TO HIS ON HIS own friend FRIENDS HE BESTOWED AN EXTRAORDINARY SOLICITUDE; FOREVER ENQUIRING HOW ONE WAS AND WHAT ONE WAS DOING, WITH WHOM, AND WHY BILL CONSIDERED FRIENDSHIP AN ACT OF GRACE NOT A CONTRACT OF RECIPROCAL OBLIGATIONS. AND THEREFORE HE OFTEN SURPRISED YOU BY DOING MORE THAN UNEXPECTED, GESTURE OF CAKE + CONCERN YOU EVER EXPECTED, RIGHT THROUGH THE VERY END OF HIS

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LIFE

WHAT FUN BILL PALEY WAS TO BE WITH! HE CONJURED UP AN AIR OF FESTIVITY SIMPLY BY WALKING INTO A ROOM - HIS FACE CRINKLED INTO THAT LEGENDARY, MISCHIEVOUS BOY'S SMILE; HIS ENTIRE BEARING AN AFFIRMATION THAT NOBODY WAS EVERYBODY TO ENJOY HIMSELF AS MUCH AS HE WAS GOING TO HAVE A BETTER TIME THAN HE, AND THAT HE WAS PLANNING TO HAVE A MARVELOUS TIME.

I HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO TRAVEL WITH BILL TO MANY CONTINENTS, ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED BY THE UBIQUITIOUS JOHN DEAN, HIS VALET AND FRIEND, WHO LOVED AND SPOILED HIM OUTRAGEOUSLY. DEAN WAS IN CHARGE OF THE SUITCASES BULGING WITH HUNGARIAN SALAMI AND OTHER DELICACIES INTENDED TO BUFFER BILL FROM A SUDDEN FOOD SHORTAGE ON ALIEN TURF. DEAN WAS ALSO RESPONSIBLE FOR WHIPPING UP THE AIRPLANE MENUS WHICH BILL DEVISED IN FLAGRANT

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DISREGARD OF EITHER CUSTOMS OR, INDEED, OF THE TECHNICAL
possibilities
PARAMETERS OF THE AREAS THROUGH WHICH WE MIGHT BE
TRAVELLING.

ON THESE TRIPS, BILL VASTLY ENJOYED MEETING THE
VARIOUS NATIONAL LEADERS, WHO IN TURN WERE DRAWN TO HIS
COURTY DIGNITY AND ENGAGING CHARM. His assessments
afterwards were
BE QUITE RETICENT IN THEIR COMPANY, AFTERWARDS, HE
INVARIABLY TURNED TO ME WITH, "LET ME TELL YOU WHAT I
THINK HE WAS REALLY SAYING." HE WAS USUALLY RIGHT ON THE
MARK; BILL HAD AN UNCANNY GRASP OF THE ESSENCE OF ANY
PROBLEM TO WHICH HE PUT HIS MIND.

Still, foreign or long-grown
MUCH AS BILL VALUED MEETING POLITICAL LEADERS, HE
avoided getting
NEVER MADE ANY ATTEMPT TO GET CLOSE TO THEM
PERSONALLY. PERHAPS THIS WAS BECAUSE BILL SUSPECTED
POLITICAL LEADERS OF BEING SPECIALISTS IN THE QUID PRO

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almost certainly
QUO; PROBABLY BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT CBS TO BE
UNDER ANY POLITICAL OBLIGATION WHATSOEVER.

AS CARING AS BILL WAS OF HIS FRIENDS, HE DID NOT
ALLOW THAT COMMITMENT TO INFRINGE ON HIS LOVE AFFAIR
WITH CBS, ESPECIALLY CBS NEWS, WHILE I KNEW HIM,
le was impervious to the many appeals that seemed true
APPEALS BY FRIENDS TO INTERVENE WITH CBS NEWS, WERE
DOOMED TO DISAPPOINTMENT. BILL TOOK THE POSITION THAT
THE CBS NEWS TEAM WAS BEYOND HIS REACH BECAUSE IT
WAS, SIMPLY, THE BEST AND THE MOST DEDICATED EVER
ASSEMBLED. I ONCE TRIED TO TEMPT BILL WITH THE
SUGGESTION THAT SINCE THE DAYS OF KANT, PHILOSOPHERS
HAD HELD THE VIEW THAT THE HUMAN MIND FILTERS KNOWL-
EDGE THROUGH PREEXISTING CATEGORIES; TO THE EXTENT THAT
REPORTERS ARE HUMAN, THE AXIOM HAD TO APPLY TO THEM
AS WELL. BILL'S ATTITUDE WAS THAT KANT WROTE LONG BEFORE
his

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THERE WAS A CBS, AND THAT A CONVOLUTED GERMAN
PHILOSOPHER COULD HAVE NO POSSIBLE RELEVANCE TO HIS
BABY AT BLACK ROCK.

TO HEAR BILL PALEY TALK ABOUT CBS, YOU KNEW IT
HAD NOT JUST HAPPENED; INDEED, THAT NO ONE BUT HE
COULD HAVE MADE IT HAPPEN THAT WAY. HE HAD TURNED A
DREAM INTO A REALITY BY HIS IMAGINATION AND COURAGE, HIS
PERSISTENCE AND YES, HIS LIFELONG DEVOTION.

BILL ENJOYED LIFE WITH SUCH EXUBERANCE THAT HIS
FRIENDS NEVER QUITE FACED THAT SOMEDAY IT HAD TO END.
VISITING HIM DURING HIS LAST ILLNESS, I FOUND HIM DOZING
IN A CHAIR, HIS FACE WASTED, ALL OF HIM REALLY QUITE SPENT.
BUT AT THE SOUND OF THE VISITOR, HE WOKE UP AND THAT
MARVELOUS SMILE LIT UP HIS FEATURES: "TELL ME SOMETHING
AMUSING," HE SAID. I KNEW WHAT HE WANTED TO HEAR

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BECAUSE WE HAD GONE THROUGH THE EXERCISE DURING PREVIOUS ILLNESSES. SO I RECOUNTED HOW ON OUR TRIP THROUGH THE MIDDLE EAST HE HAD FALLEN DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS IN OMAN, HITTING HIS HEAD ON EVERY STEP. AND HOW THE NEXT DAY, HIS BANDAGED HEAD GIVING HIM THE APPEARANCE OF SOME EXOTIC SHEIK, WE FLEW FOR 16 HOURS VIA MALTA TO MARRAKESH, ENDING THE DAY'S ADVENTURES AT 2:00 IN THE MORNING WITH A SUMPTUOUS DINNER

*with an old friend of Bill's, who collected us at the airport.*

THIS TALE WAS BILL'S REASSURANCE OF INDESTRUCTIBILITY. AS HE LISTENED, HIS TWINKLING EYES AND SOFTLY CREASED FACE EXUDED SUCH SERENITY THAT IN A SURGE OF EUPHORIA, I CONVINCED MYSELF THE STAUNCH OLD WARRIOR WOULD CONFOUND US ALL AGAIN AS HE HAD THREE YEARS BEFORE

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DURING ANOTHER ILLNESS WHEN EVERYBODY HAD GIVEN UP
BUT HE HIMSELF.

IT WAS NOT TO BE.

A VIGNETTE FROM A EULOGY WRITTEN BY BILL'S LONG-
TIME FRIEND, CARTER BURDEN, CAPTURED THE BILL PALEY SO
MANY OF US TREASURED in the following extract from a eulogy
for Carter in 1924.

"AT JOHN DEAN'S FUNERAL, ONLY A FEW WEEKS AGO,
BILL DECIDED HE WANTED TO SPEAK EXTEMPORANEOUSLY. HE
STAGGERED UP TO THE PODIUM AND BEGAN BY PROFUSELY
THANKING THE STARTLED CLERGYMAN FOR COMPOSING THE
LORD'S PRAYER ESPECIALLY IN DEAN'S HONOR. HE THEN
ANNOUNCED SOMEWHAT UNCERTAINLY THAT ROBERT DEAN HAD
WORKED FOR HIM FOR OVER 100 YEARS, AND YOU KNEW THE
DEAR OLD BOY HAD LOST IT AT LAST. BUT THEN BILL, WITH HIS
INDESTRUCTIBLE WILL AND UNFAILING SENSE OF OCCASION,

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BEGAN TO TALK - SIMPLY, ELOQUENTLY, STRAIGHT FROM HIS
VALIANT OLD HEART: 'JOHN DEAN WAS MY FRIEND,' HE SAID,
'AND I BELIEVE THAT SOMEDAY, PROBABLY VERY SOON, WE
WILL MEET AGAIN.'

I TRULY HOPE BILL WAS RIGHT, BECAUSE I CAN SEE IT ALL
SO CLEARLY. DEAN UP THERE FUSSING MATERNALLY OVER HIS
BELOVED, SPOILED-ROTTEN BOSS. BILL EATING 12 MEALS A DAY,
LOVING BABE, GOSSIPING AWAY WITH FRIENDS, PLOTTING TO
AVOID BORES, WATCHING SEVERAL TV'S SIMULTANEOUSLY,
SCRIBBLING NOTES, PLEASED AS PUNCH, TWINKLING AWAY LIKE
THAT BRIGHT, SHINING STAR HE ALWAYS WAS, AND ALWAYS WILL
BE FOR ME."

IN THE END, A MAN'S LIFE IS MEASURED BY THE
DIFFERENCE HE MADE. AND ABOUT BILL IT IS ENOUGH TO SAY
THAT AMERICA TODAY CANNOT BE IMAGINED WITHOUT HIS

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LIFE'S WORK. NOR CAN THE LIVES OF HIS FRIENDS WITHOUT HIS PHONE CALLS, HIS SUBTLE OR NOT SO SUBTLE BUT OH, SO PERISTENT ADVICE, HIS ALL-ENCOMPASSING INDESTRUCTIBLE PRESENCE. A GIANT AMONG MEN, BILL PALEY OF NEEDS

WALKED ALONE, HE HONORED HIS FRIENDS BY LETTING THEM ACCOMPANY HIM PART OF THE WAY. HIS DEATH LEAVES US LONELIER AND EMPTIER, BUT NONE OF US WOULD TRADE PLACES WITH THOSE WHO DID NOT HAVE THE GOOD FORTUNE OF KNOWING BILL PALEY AT ALL.

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WILLIAM PALEY EULOGY 11/12/90

By the time our paths crossed, Bill Paley had already made an enduring contribution to American life and culture. He was in his seventies, at an age when deep new human relationships are rarely forged. Yet almost miraculously, Bill and I became close friends.

Until the end, he was always a pioneer with an uncanny sense for the future based on intuition.

Bill was larger than life; a man of many paradoxes. He recognized the crest of the many waves he rode without being able to explain how. He hugely enjoyed his wealth, but he was not particularly interested in the process of amassing it, nor did he participate in the speculative frenzy of the Eighties. Infinitely gregarious, deeply reluctant to be