Newswatch

By Thomas Griffith

The press, which considers itself the arbiter of how long anyone lasts in the limelight, doesn't like to have that judgment challenged. Having once buried Gary Hart politically, first with its coverage of the Donna Rice weekend, then with editorials pronouncing him too flawed in character to be President, the press now finds itself having to await the electorate's verdict.

Perhaps this proves that the media are better at sensing how curious people are about someone than at knowing what they actually think of him. Journalists quickly intuit when people are fed up with, rather than amused by, a rock star's tantrums, or when a politician has worn out his welcome. (A magazine that misjudges and too often features on its cover someone readers are tired of, quickly learns the lesson from lower newsstand sales.) In the case of Hart, the public plainly deplored his conduct but still remained fascinated by him. In his comeback, he skillfully assured himself further attention by blaming reporters for his troubles.

Gary Hart thus joins a prickly cast of characters, among them Senator Joe McCarthy, Spiro Agnew and Ollie North, who take on the media, and by doing so prolong their stay in the public eye. The press (which also competes for the public's favor) has to prove that it is being fair to its critics, and has done so lately by giving Gary Hart acres of publicity he couldn't buy. USA Today reports that in the four days after Hart resumed his candidacy, network evening television gave him 39.31 minutes of coverage, while allotting George Bush and Bob Dole six minutes and Michael Dukakis less than three. Of course, as Hart anticipated, most editors trotted out the picture of Donna Rice sitting on Hart's lap, reported the anger and anguish of other Democratic candidates and quoted authorities who said he was unelectable. But once Hart shot up quickly in the polls, journalists stopped being so dismissive of him.

Some editors feared that the media's pursuit of Hart's private life might become as much an issue as his adulteries. As Hart put it in a speech at Yale, "How far are we prepared to go as a society to peek into areas hitherto precluded?"

The media sometimes learn from criticism, but not very quickly. Thirty-five years ago the press made a public figure of the demagogic Joe McCarthy, quoting his every reckless accusation of treason. The nation had to undergo a prolonged and squalid crisis until journalists learned to check out irresponsible charges and give the accused a chance to reply. Spiro Agnew was a nonentity as Vice President until the beleaguered Richard Nixon decided to deploy Agnew to wage a smear campaign against network news bias. Fearful of Government intervention, television gave him more attention than he deserved. Agnew's hour in the spotlight ended not because his charges were disproved (they stuck in many minds) but because evidence of his past crookedness finally caught up with him.

Television made Ollie North a celebrity. Journalists had cast him as a heavy in the Iran-contra scandal, but his bravura performance as a witness -- emotional, defiant, patriotic -- led to a national outburst of Olliemania. McCarthy, Agnew and North were quite dissimilar in deeds and in character, but of each it could be said that journalists covering him believed that with time and further acquaintance people would think less of him. That also seems to be the conviction of most journalists who cover Gary Hart.

When first criticized for their reporting of Hart's private life, journalists cited bounden duty to probe the personal character of those who volunteer to be President, since just about anyone can run and so many do. To judge by polls, people believe that the sex scandal should have been reported but that the media overplayed it. Fewer editors today would probably defend, as many at the outset did, the Miami Herald's stakeout of Hart's private residence. Though the public hankers to know the facts and the gossip too, it has made clear its concern for individual privacy from a prying press.