KANU News Retention

[PATTY HACKNEY]: Welcome to this year's legislative cooking class. Today's recipe is a complicated and spicy one. We're going to try and make a productive legislative session. Sounds impossible with all the cooks involved, but we may be able to do it with teamwork. Hear that, guv? Oh, by the way, make sure and go through the security scanners -- leave your political bull at the door. Yes, sirree, we've got a slice of reapportionment issues and a creative batch of school finance changes, equal parts of our ingredients. Don't forget a chip or two of gambling issues and a big fistful of sentencing guidelines, which includes a potful of new drug laws, a bucket of water problems, a smelly mess of landfill questions, and a fetus-frenzy of abortion bills. Forget the mixer -- get out the cattle prod and water pistols. It's going to be a rough session like the soothsayers have all predicted. For a little extra spice, add the rumor that many older legislators won't run again so they can take advantage of the better pension plan. Can't blame 'em -- but without reelection worries, their vote counts could be unpredictable. Now hold your nose and mix in election year hysteria and a governor with a grudge against the legislature. Look, Joan, I agree that it's important to recognize the different roles of the executive

and legislative branches, but extremes'll burn the brew. Stop playing God Save the Queen with those demeaning quotes about "my people," and start working with the legislature to help the state. Sorry to burst your bubble, but we're not a matriarchy. Your branch is no more important than the legislature. If you continue to pout about last year's tax plan, nothing will get passed, and us little people will be the losers. Of course, it's not a bad political strategy, doing what the barf-o-rama president does -- blame Congress for any and all problems or non-action, taking no responsibility for his inability or unwillingness to work with them. Leadership is the key ingredient. We desperately need long-term, solid solutions. We need players who can resist the empty rhetoric that oozes out during election year. We need nourishing bread, not Twinkies. Stir all this mess together and bake for 90 days -- no less, or the issues will still be mushy. The result will either be a bitter pill that still leaves us hungry, a placebo to placate the masses, or a healthy slice of cooperative substance. We'll be able to tell by the smell from the statehouse. I'm Patty Hackney, and I don't think

I'm hungry anymore. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: I got a piece of mail last week that seemed ludicrous, and I got a piece of news from one of my alma maters that seemed downright stupid. There's no connection, but bear with me -- there's a connection. First off, the brilliant documentary producer Ken Burns is making me an offer I can't help but refuse. The Public Broadcasting System will run later this month Empire of the Air: The Men Who Made Radio. For somebody in journalism and mass com, it sounds like a winner. Burns's The Civil War was an overwhelming and deserved success. His one hour biography of Charles Lindbergh was very good, even though nobody has entirely figured out Lindbergh. Programming like that is not only difficult to produce, it's expensive. So I've gotten a little mailer from PBS -- if my institution or I want to tape Empire of the Air off the air and want to use it in a classroom more than seven days after broadcast and want to stay legal, it will cost my institution or me $50. The laughable part is that everyone I've talked to says it's unenforceable, which I already knew. Many i public

broadcasting say it shouldn't be enforced. Anyway, PBS is hardly notorious for its shock troops checking classrooms around the country for copyright violations of primetime documentaries. But that's what it comes down to when you're talking about programming that's of higher quality than, say, Married with Children Takes the Love Boat. Burns will never get the licensing fees he deserves, and most of the teachers who'd want to use the program as part of instruction can't afford to pay for it either -- a lose-lose situation. The media and the schools are both in the education business, and they can't get together when it really counts -- when we need to encourage and reward the best. Now from the ludicrous to the stupid. The University of Missouri's broadcast news program is unique, and it's the best. But that's not enough sometimes. The university owns an NBC affiliate that's made lots of money for it over the years, and it's attracted and given some of the best in the business their first shot. This is a business that needs more of the best people. So if you're <UNK> educationally and financially, you're all set -- right? Wrong. Mizzou actually entertained a proposal to sell KUMU

TV during a recent budget crisis. Apparently, these efforts crop up from time to time in Tiger-land. I understand there's now no threat of any sale, but I fail to understand how it could even come up for discussion -- and I work for the University of Kansas, an institution that's never figured out how to get in the ballgame of electronic media. Once again, the media and the schools are both in the education business, and they can't get together when it really counts -- when we need to encourage and reward the best. The media may do as much educating as the schools. They've certainly gained influence as the family has lost it. We can expect much more of the same in the future. Part of our problem is economics. Some of what you might call the worst programming draws the biggest audiences, so naturally it attracts more money. This is true both in entertainment and in news.'Twas ever thus, and ever 'twill be. Part of it is a lack of understanding. Our understanding of TV is, at best, incomplete. But we do know it's powerful. Harnessing that power is another matter. And part of the fault, dear Brutus, lies in ourselves -- ourselves being educators and media producers with a foot in both

camps. When the media and the education system do clearly overlap, we don't marshal our forces very well to make the best of it. Fifty dollar dollops from mass com and history profs won't make that much difference to Ken Burns, but we should find ways to encourage his excellence. After all, if we want to encourage important but boring programming, we have two channels of C-SPAN. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: This past Monday, I was walking around downtown Lawrence, getting some pants altered and making an exchange at the bike shop. And I was suddenly puzzled -- there were a lot of folks wandering around for a Monday afternoon. Granted, it was sunny and extremely pleasant for mid-January, but Mondays are scarcely major days in the retail trade. Then it struck me -- it was the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday, hence the crowds of shoppers. Since the King birthday has only been a holiday for a few years, we're really not sure how to relate to the free day, so it's evolving all on its own. For all the symbolic handholding and song-singing of George Bush and other elected officials, most of us don't celebrate the

holiday in any special way. Lots of African Americans do, of course, and Monday you could see some of them walking around downtown in their suits and Sunday dresses after attending, I assume, a memorial service. But most of us were simply enjoying the nice weather and the day off, looking at the post-Christmas 2-for-1 sales. Now before you label me a crass cynic, think about our other holidays. We don't even celebrate Washington and Lincoln's birthdays anymore. Instead, we get Presidents' Day, which is sponsored by manufacturers of large appliances. Memorial Day is a bit like the King holiday, in that there are some speeches as we remember our war dead. In fact, however, Memorial Day marks the date that Uncle Bub finally gets the bass boat in the water and serves as the traditional start of the Little League Baseball season. The 4th of July remains a pretty good holiday, because you can't always put the 4th on a Monday, so sometimes it comes on a Thursday -- and at least one schoolchild in ten can link the 4th of July to the nation's founding. Labor Day is definitely a holiday on the downslope. Not many people belong

to unions these days. And although the president usually makes a Labor Day proclamation, he spends the day zooming around Kennebunkport Harbor in his funny looking boat that gets two miles to the gallon. And Columbus Day -- even in 1992, Columbus gets no respect. The Scandinavians want to celebrate Leif Erikson; the Native Americans see the great navigator as a rogue who brought disease and destruction; and schoolchildren don't even get the day off. Thanksgiving has maintained a little integrity, although we still hear a lot more about retail sales levels than we do about giving thanks for our hearth and home. And Christmas, with its ultimate commercialization, is scarcely worthy of comment. It passed all bounds of cynicism long ago. So what should we think of the shopping throngs on the King holiday? My guess is that we're beginning to absorb the holiday in a typically American way. So far, there aren't any huge newspaper supplements that advertise Martin Luther King, Jr. specials on everything from yogurt makers to children's portraits. The Reverend King hasn't yet reached the plastic status of Washington and Lincoln, nor has the King

day headed toward irrelevance like Labor Day. Plus, we generally remember the purpose of the holiday, unlike Memorial Day. All in all, we're still trying to figure it out, and I'll know where we're headed for sure when I see the initial Martin Luther King Hibachi Sale at Kmart. [SILENCE] ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: Arkansas governor Bill Clinton had to do a tough job the other night when he went on 60 Minutes. He had to get the focus back on his presidential campaign and away from charges that never should have gotten into legitimate news media. Of course, he failed, because it's not actually tough -- it's impossible -- to stop the relentless, repeated questions about the same old thing. Inevitably, the story becomes, "Did he stop the bleeding?" Let's take a look at how he got knifed in the first place -- and I'll emphasize that the truth or falsehood of what Gennifer Flowers has to say about a relationship with Bill Clinton should not be the issue. For one, it's not the issue, because her interview was bought and paid for. For another thing, neither Bill nor Hillary Clinton

wants marital fidelity to be the issue, and they're the only two people who count -- even if he is running for president. The press and electronic media in this country let a supermarket tabloid, check-writing, self-hyping sleaze sheet dictate their news agenda. It's that simple. Oh, reporters and editors moan that it wasn't really their choice -- that the questions about Clinton's marital fidelity were out there on people's minds, and that when you run for office you give up your private life. So we have the news media hijacked into running stories against their own better judgment, if any. Back in 1987 when Gary Hart got caught in various bits of monkey business, the Miami Herald broke the story, but broke a whole bundle of sound principles of news gathering. Columnist Ellen Goodman pointed out that the public turned an emphatic thumbs down on the way the media handled the story, but the voters knew what to do with the information once they had it. Hart now leads a relatively private life, perhaps looking through his album of photos taken off the Florida coast. But I don't think people know what to do with the Clinton-Flowers story except try to block it out. The Kansas City Star in its editorial page urges us to

lift American elections out of the mud -- and the same issue features Gennifer Flowers' picture in color across three columns of the front page. All over the place editorials say it's no story while the news columns play it up big. The American press has promoted a myth of pluralism -- the competition of many independent voices will produce the truth. But you won't find much support for the myth of media pluralism in the tale of Clinton and Flowers. You find the media mindlessly following a prurient pied piper of grocery line journalism. You'll be hearing much more about how Bill Clinton comes through this crisis in his campaign. He needs to break out of the normal pattern of the politician accused -- going on the defensive and reacting to charges of wrongdoing. Clinton insists on keeping his marriage between his wife and himself, and he leveled with the voters by saying, "If you don't like that, don't vote for me." That's his call, and I respect him for it. You'll hear a thing or two about how people react to the media's handling of the story. I'll wager Clinton comes out better than the media, however badly they both do. The National Star has shown that publication of salacious charges --

any publication -- is sufficient to divert and control the news agenda. The story started out next to the 13 year old grandmother of a two-headed space creature that knows where Elvis lives. It should have stayed there. ***** [TOM AVERILL AS WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN OLEANDER]: Well, folks, I was out in my yard raking leaves on a 60 degree day in February. Just below the crust of leaves I uncovered the pale green, tender, upthrust shoots of daffodil, iris, jonquil, and crocus. All around Here, Kansas, the smallest shreds of grass are greening; the lilac buds are swelling; sap is rising. Whoever saw such spring in the middle of what ought to be frigid winter. It doesn't seem natural, but I'm not complaining -- especially since the other night when I put on an old, thin sweater and headed over to Near Here VFW with Elmer Peterson to play a little bingo. Feeling alert, I bought four cards and sat down to win something. After

five rounds of near bingos, I gave my cards one last chance on a blackout. The round began, and the tension built like it does in blackout, so you know someone has to win with every new call, I-20 or B-9. I lacked all but two Os when a woman in the palest green dress I'd ever seen suddenly stood up. "Bingo!" she called out in a strong voice. She carried her card, not so much as walking as floating to the front. "Who's that?" I whispered to Elmer. She was a young woman -- not more than 80 -- her white hair in a loose bun, her eyes brighter than you could polish a Roosevelt dime. Like her voice, the rest of her was all tender strength. She was spring in a winter of old people and regulars at the VFW -- and my sap rose. "Winner of blackout," the caller announced, "is Miss Iola Humboldt!" Miss Humboldt whispered to the caller, and he said, "Iola has just moved to Near Here from southeast Kansas to be near her niece." And then I missed her niece's name. I poked Elmer. "What was

that niece's name?" "Bill," he said, "you'll find out all about her in good time." "At my age, time ain't that good," I said. I picked up my cards and headed to where I'd seen her stand up. She was heading back, too, and we met in front of two empty folding chairs. Her smell came to me like a faint reminder of lilac. Her face was soft, wrinkled, and worn -- but gently, like a map you've used over and over to get to where you want to go. My face flushed pink as a crabapple blossom, and I went where I wanted to go. "May I join you?" I asked. "These cards need some extra luck." She smiled and sat. Her hand reached for mine. "Please join me," she said with no hesitation. "But at our age," she said, "we don't want to count on luck." Folks, I don't need to tell you how bingo didn't matter anymore that evening. Those little plastic flaps covered the beautiful numbers like winter leaves cover what wants to grow, and I kept thinking, "B-9, B-9, be mine." I don't need to tell you how Iola Humboldt turned to me at the end of bingo and

asked, "Do you believe in like at first sight?" I don't need to tell you how she invited me to supper on Valentine's Day to get better acquainted. I went home that night and walked right up to my favorite picture of my late wife, now dead these 10 years. She smiled, and I smiled, too. Late in her life, she said, "William, I no longer believe in happiness. Instead, I believe that what happens is good. I believe in 'happen-ness.'" As my heart swelled with remembered love and my sap rose with the thought of Iola Humboldt's hand, I knew that what was happening was good. We all deserve a little spring in the wintertime. ***** [FEMALE SPEAKER]: There's a special place I go to in my imagination after a long and hectic day that I'd like to tell you about. I lie in my bed and see myself on top of a hill somewhere in South Dakota. There's a fire there and a lean-to of some sort, and I usually sit by the fire

relaxing in the peacefulness and the view of golden hills all around. It's wonderful and a great way to get centered. But last night something disturbing happened. A few minutes after I got there, I noticed birds flying in and perching in a formation at the edge of the fire. It was almost as if they were forming one point of a four pointed star -- facing north. There were all kinds of birds -- a representative from every species it seemed like -- and they just perched there watching me, not making a sound. At first, I got a little scared. What in the world were they doing there, and what did they want? I could feel that old fear of nature that we Americans seem to have inherited from our European ancestors welling up in me. But I stayed there, curiosity more than anything else riveting me to that imaginary place beside

that imaginary fire. It was almost as if the birds' message to me was so strong that I just had to sit there until I heard it. When it came, it came without any emotion. "When the ozone layer thins out," a voice somewhere in my inner ear said, "human beings can go into their houses for protection. Where can the birds go?" And then I realized that all those birds making up the point of the star were only part of the whole formation. The star reached out in the four directions. Plants and trees could have filled the second part. Tigers and elephants and all the other animals could have the filled third part -- and butterflies, beetles, and all other insects the fourth. They all could have been looking at me and asking, "When the sun gets deadly, where do we go?" And then I thought of the

presidential race and our focus on Bill Clinton's sex life, and it made me slightly sick. We're not really paying any attention to what is happening to the world at all, and the birds know it. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: Tomorrow in New Hampshire a bunch of unrepresentative voters from a small, untypical state will play a major role in determining who the Democratic presidential candidate will be. Pat Buchanan notwithstanding, we already know who the GOP will nominate, old commander-in-chief Bush -- as opposed to the legendary "read my lips" Bush, who disappeared without a trace a year or two ago. Were I a New Hampsherite, I'm not sure who I'd vote for, but my guess is that I'd pull the lever for Paul Tsongas. You've got to love a guy who entered the fray when the president was riding high;

a guy who speaks hard truths with a modest speech impediment; the only candidate not to suck up to the middle class with a meaningless tax cut; and a guy who actually left politics to spend time with his family and to provide for them when he was faced with cancer at age 42. Tsongas has hung in there, blessed with the most modest of expectations. He seemed fated to be the sensible, unelectable candidate of 1992 -- a guy like Bruce Babbitt or Milton Shapp, two would-be presidents who were buried under a mountain of their own reasonable, well-considered proposals. Well, Tsongas may end up on the same mountain of position papers, but it looks like he'll go considerably further. Part of this results from his formal competition -- Clinton, with his character issues; Harkin, with his harsh edges and confrontational populism; Kerry, without the foggiest idea of why he wants to be president; Brown, without the foggiest idea, period. They make Paul Tsongas look good.

But Tsongas has a real record of his own, winning a House race at age 33, a Senate seat at 37 -- no mean feats in the hardball politics of Massachusetts. And he's someone who's faced death. He's thought through why he's back involved in politics. Writing in 1985, looking toward an uncertain future outside the Senate, Tsongas noted that a bout with cancer, quote, "has made me a better person. Ironically, it would have made me a better Senator, but that doesn't really matter. In truth, my great worry is that I'll lose my current sense of values and perspective if I'm ill for a long time when I go back to my previous driven mindset." As we watch Senator Tsongas slog through his position papers mixing some economic medicine and some sharp self deprecation with a real sense of compassion, it is clear that he has not put aside the values of family and faith that he regained as he fought cancer. For those who seek the

presidency, the power of ambition is so strong that it frequently all but wrings the humanity out of the candidate. George Bush once lost a child to leukemia -- surely a wrenching experience. Somewhere his compassion was lost as the seeking became the end in itself. So far, that hasn't happened to Paul Tsongas, a most unlikely frontrunner. And were I in the snows of New Hampshire, it wouldn't be hard to pull the lever for Tsongas, who might just make a decent president. ***** [AUDIO DISTORTION THROUGHOUT] [MALE SPEAKER]: Faster, smaller computers you can fold up and put in your pocket; newspapers that play back like television newscasts; the electronic university you can attend from anywhere -- recently, I saw all of that laid out like a buffet for some <UNK> I monitor a few electronic bulletin boards, or EBBs, <UNK> up into a national network and sending and receiving messages with your personal computer. Normally,

the EBBs I check out are filled with exchanges between academic types trying <UNK> <UNK> Occasionally, the discussion gets interesting and then reverts to <UNK> somebody else out, it's known as a flaming message. A breakout usually <UNK> extent of defining the phenomenon itself and how it's different on EBBs <UNK> But a dandy discussion started recently when a professor at Clark <UNK> reporter <UNK> her about the coming growth areas in mass communication and asked the hot <UNK> the turn of the century. She asked the Mass Com bulletin board to respond <UNK> academic <UNK> of goodies. It ran from the specific, such as digital <UNK> to the mystical, a coming change in our visions and <UNK> When academics wax poetic, don't let your interest wane. <UNK> At the center of this brave new online world is the computer. As a regular

user of different computer formats, I can tell you the computer is usually the <UNK> It may solve some problems, but by golly, it'll create some for you. Computers <UNK> to tell them what to do. Using most human-computer interface is like trying to <UNK> We don't talk computer, and they don't talk human. Naturally, <UNK> uses. That's why the television program listings now include those <UNK> programming the computer chip in the video recorder, which has been known <UNK> We will, the Mass Com EBB says, get easier interfaces in computers that control different media. <UNK> The media will be less distinct from each other <UNK> We may even get <UNK> computer screen form of collapsible models <UNK> that are like glass <UNK> It all seems possible. We can have some <UNK>

desirable <UNK> hardly seems fair to ask the obvious question: is it likely? If I could answer that, I'd already be rich, because the adoption of technology seems to follow any path <UNK> straight line. That's why <UNK> talking to each other on video phones while we fly to work in our personal <UNK> not-so-distant time, the student who ran the film projector was the logical <UNK> Recently a video production house in Kansas City received <UNK> didn't know <UNK> it was. Nearly everybody knows how to pop a cassette into the video recorder and hit Play. It's getting the VCR to behave when we're not there to turn it on and off that's tough. <UNK> A VCR will do wonders if you know how to talk to it. Look for progress <UNK> gadgets that program our VCRs for us. Look for computers that help us talk to our computers. ***** [MIKE BROWN]: Hundreds of

Kansas children will die or be injured this year in preventable traffic-related accidents. The financial costs of high tech, labor-intensive emergency treatment and either funerals or rehabilitation for such children are incredible. Such casualties also increase everyone's health and auto insurance rates and use of valuable public funds. The emotional costs for the child's family are too great to quantify. Many studies show that safety belts and safety seats each reduce the risk of traffic-related casualties by about 50%. Research led by the Centers for Disease Control found that laws mandating the use of child passenger safety restraints resulted in a significant decrease in traffic-related casualties among children. Yet Kansas legislators have in the past refused to give children who ride in especially dangerous pickup trucks and vans the same protection they require for children who ride in cars. Most of the lawmakers who vote against legislation protecting child passengers in pickup trucks and vans work in agriculture or represent rural districts. Last week, one such legislator told me

he considers the mandatory use of child safety restraints to be a big personal nuisance when he drives his pickup truck. Another such legislator simply refused to discuss this topic with me. On February 20, the Kansas house passed Bill 2766 that would at long last require drivers to give child passengers in pickup trucks and vans the same minimum protection from injury and death that drivers must give children who ride in cars. In the senate, however, that bill has been assigned to an eleven member committee that contains nine members who work in agriculture or represent rural districts. It is long overdue for the state of Kansas to do more to protect the safety of its children. You can help by contacting your senator about House Bill 2766. Addresses and telephone numbers can be gotten by calling the capitol at 1-800-432-3924. In hopes of a safer life for Kansas children, I'm Mike Brown. ***** [TOM AVERILL AS WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN OLEANDER]: Well, folks, last month in Here,

Kansas, we played host to a stray dog -- another mutt some Wichita family found overwhelming. We didn't know he was in Here until a Tuesday morning. That's when a There County sanitation truck rolls into town to pick up Here's trash, set out to line the streets the night before. Sometimes a possum or raccoon gets into a barrel and spreads out a few chicken bones, but that stray dog was raised in the city. He knew how to knock down a barrel; how to chew out the handles of milk jugs and go for the sour scabs of dried milk; how to find the paper and plastic that absorbs steak blood while the meat rests on those yellow styrofoam trays. He knew everything, and everything was spread before us -- paper cups, microwave trays, cardboard cereal boxes, coffee grounds, Kleenex, pop cans, aspirin bottles, tin foil. You name it, there it was -- and the There County truck due any minute. You know, used to be I knew what to do with trash. The pigs ate all my food scraps. I burned everything that would burn. I took the rest down to the creek draw in Dumptown. Over 50 years or so, my family had a pretty good pile of tin

cans -- rusted until they were porous -- and a couple of refrigerators and three cars and some big old bed springs. The old implements we let stand in the fields. Everything looked like it might just find the earth again -- all but the light bulbs. Back then, we didn't have much aluminum -- no plastic. We saved glass jars to round up stray screws and nuts and bolts. I refilled bottles with home brew every spring. In fact, all my trash for the first 50 years of my life could have been bulldozed into a space no bigger than the narrow basement of my old farmhouse. But in the past 50 years, why -- it's a thousand times worse. It's what that Wichita dog spread out -- and more -- and the There County sanitation truck due any minute. I knew it was finally time. "Recycle!" I yelled. And you know what? That Wichita dog appeared from behind a trash can, his tail between his legs. He came right over and licked my hand like I'd called him rather than called for action. Here's what Here, Kansas, did. We rounded up all the trash that couldn't be recycled. We finished just as the There County truck pulled

in. Later, we sorted the rest into piles -- tin cans, glass, plastic, aluminum, newspaper. I took it to Wichita to the Recycling Center in my old 3/4-ton truck. I named that dog Recycle, and every time I called him -- "Here, Recycle!" -- it was like saying what our little town was doing. Well, I got just enough from the Wichita Recycling Center to pay for my gas. The folks at the There County Landfill noticed the reduced trash. There County cut the hauling fee for Here in half, giving us credit for our recycling program. They want to promote it in other There County towns. You know, sometimes things work best on the small scale -- the farmer and his creek draw; Here, Kansas, with all its trash spread before it one fine morning. But maybe it would work on a big scale, too. Of course, you'd need a lot of stray dogs from Wichita, and you'd need a good trash dog like Recycle to train them. So here's my offer: I'll loan Recycle out to anyone, any time.

He'll be glad to raise your consciousness. Yes, sir -- he'll be glad to help save the earth. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: The House banking scandal -- how the words hang together. After 38 years wandering around in the political wilderness, Republicans have a real, if slim, chance to recapture the House of Representatives. In the recent past, Democratic incumbents seemed invulnerable. Take 1988, for example. Six -- count them -- six House members lost their reelection bids. If you were an incumbent member of Congress, you had a better chance of getting hit by lightning than losing your seat -- and then only if you were moving toward a felony conviction. But then came the check debacle, and suddenly the proverbial shoe is on the other foot. I'm not here to judge the members of Congress. Their constituents will do that soon enough. Rather, I'd like to suggest the Republicans can realistically harbor hopes to gain control of the House, an event that most

observers thought virtually impossible. Still, the checking scandal merely opens the door along with redistricting and a rash of Democratic retirements. However favorable, these conditions are not nearly enough for Republicans to triumph. They must be able to take advantage of their opportunity, and there's little reason for optimism on this score. First of all, the Republicans must recruit a bunch of strong candidates. This is no mean feat, although it occasionally occurs. In Wichita, for instance, state senator Eric Yost is perfectly positioned to take on incumbent Dan Glickman with his 100-plus bounced checks. Yost has started early, has worked hard, has political savvy, and has a proven ability to raise money. Unlike many Republicans, Yost actually enjoys politics and the political process, which makes him all the more dangerous. Candidates like Eric Yost have not been the norm for Republicans, however -- especially when a Democratic incumbent was involved. Often the party could not attract the quality challengers needed to motivate supporters

and raise the half million dollars essential to run a competitive campaign. Indeed, beyond recruitment, money is the key in 1992. This hardly qualifies as news, and Republican shouldn't have much trouble raising it, right? Wrong. Whether we like it or not, Congressional candidates get about half their money from political action committees, and over the past decade PACs have contributed overwhelmingly to the campaigns of incumbents -- Democrats as well as Republicans. And it's been corporate PACs and trade association PACs that have led the way here, as they've invested in the Democratic incumbents who can lay claim to being the permanent majority in the House. Well, in 1992 the corporate and trade association PACs have the chance to move the House out of Democratic hands. It's a long shot to be sure but by far the best chance in two generations. After this campaign we'll know if parties matter at all to economic elites in the U.S. Do they really want a more conservative, Republican vision of the future? Or are they content with a comfortable, permanent,

Democratic set of incumbents? If they give their money to the same old faces, we'll know that it's just a matter of favors and back scratching -- that party and ideology count for little. In the end, the corporate PACs may hold the future of the Congress in their hands with their choice of investing in old friends or risking the support of new faces. It's time for the natural allies of Republicans to put their money where their mouths are -- one more thing to watch in this most fascinating of political years. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: The news media have their darlings. On that point media critics, especially the political right, are right. Patrick Buchanan is the perfect candidate for the media. He'll say things that are attention getting, to say the least, and he'll say them in 10 seconds or less -- Soundbite City. I gather he's a likable person. Reporters love covering likable politicians, especially ones who generate as much heated controversy as Buchanan. They

can detest, even ridicule, what he stands for so long as he's good copy. The media have Buchanan on their list of "love-to-hate." Arkansas governor Bill Clinton fits the general profile of a TV candidate. He's a great ad-libber and master of the counterpunch, who somehow manages to deflect and direct coverage of his many foibles and shortcomings. But Gertrude Stein would probably not find much "there there." The media seem to love Clinton, but as they circle overhead waiting for a really big scandal to level him, it looks like a case of "hate-to-love." There's nothing like the ghost of scandal past to cast everything in a weird light. Enter Richard Nixon. Our deposed monarch has long been on the media "love-to-hate" list. When they aren't lamenting what he did to the country, reporters pine for the good old days when they had him to kick around. Ronald Reagan may have invented the term "evil empire;" Richard Nixon may not have invented the concept, but he was probably metaphorically in the room when the idea came up. Now he's changed, as have the Soviets.

Now he's lobbying for their welfare interests in Washington, and Nixon's enemies list has turned into his buddies. Some of his most prominent political allies, including Henry Kissinger, have said that while they have great respect for Mr. Nixon, they have to disagree that funneling aid to the confederation of independent states is a good idea. Meanwhile some of his deadliest journalistic enemies have said while they have no respect at all for that old crook, this time he's right. Nixon's reentry, yet again, into the public eye has been typical. He couched his criticism of U.S. policy in terms that allowed the press to interpret it as criticism of George Bush, when it was much broader than that. And of course the headline writers were more than a happy to do it as a "Nixon Slams Bush" number, which meant Nixon could do again what he's done so often -- say the press misquoted, misinterpreted, or misunderstood. It hurts me to say it, but he may be right -- though it doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter if he's right about U.S.

policy toward the former Soviets. All that matters is the whole topic of foreign policy has disappeared off presidential campaign radar, now we don't know who the friendlies and who the bandits are. On top of that, the conservative Republican candidate, Mr. Love-to-Hate, said "No" to that lovely little war in the Persian Gulf, and the Democrat, Mr. Hate-to-Love, backed it. Nixon himself is on the verge of changing from a media "love-to-hate" to a media "hate-to-love." Thanks, Mr. Nixon. Once again you've pointed out how easy it is to confuse us. ***** [GEORGE GURLEY]: I've always thought that "The Land of Ah's" was a dubious promotional slogan for the state of Kansas. I understand it's a play on "Oz" in an attempt to titillate potential visitors with a promise of gasp-inspiring wonders, but it conjures up an image of daft invalids wandering around with tongue depressors in their mouth going, "Ahhhhhhhhh." On the other hand, I despise the popular overuse of Dorothy's, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!"

with its wink of sophistication and condescension. It exploits an error -- that Kansans are bumpkins who'd be dumbfounded by the glittering world beyond their drab and featureless state. The truth is that Kansans don't need to leave Kansas to be amazed. Some of the ultimate wonders of the world are to be found there -- all it takes is a little imagination to grasp them. Last weekend we lit out west on I-70 in search of some. A modest inventory follows. In Hays, we saw a man with a diamond-shaped sideburns. In Dodge City we saw a scenic overlook that offers a breathtaking view of a feedlot. "There must be 100,000 hamburgers in there," said our awestruck daughter. Those are just two of the things we saw. But the most remarkable sights in Kansas are often the ones you don't see. Take the Pawnee Rock Lions. In their monumental scale and outrageous remoteness, they rival the enigmatic stone faces of Easter Island. Who were the anonymous masters who carved them? How did they achieve their art without access to NEA grants? Did lions once roam the state of Kansas?

The closest we got to the rocks themselves was a sign we passed that credited "Pawnee Rock Lions" with adopting that stretch of highway -- so near and yet so far. We shall be haunted by them forever. Everywhere else you go in this world you can find restaurants that offer a new dining experience or an orgy for the palate. Where else but in Ness City, Kansas, can you find a restaurant that makes this astonishing claim -- "A Place to Eat." Kansas is a hive of riddles. For instance, why does there seem to be one, but only one, whitewashed adobe-style house with a red tile roof in every Kansas town? Constant exposure to question marks like that makes the riddle phenomenon contagious. After a while we found ourselves making them up. What unit of time hurts? An "Ow!"-er. Stranger than fiction. Forty-seven counties in Kansas are named after soldiers. Rooks County is the only one named after a private. Hypothesis -- Yocemento Road in Hays may have taken its name from a cement baron named Yost and the word

"cement" -- Yo-cement-o. Who says nothing ever happens in Kansas? One evening we saw a hot air balloon. It was written up in the paper the next day. "Read all about it! 'HOT AIR BALLOON FLOATS IN THE LATE AFTERNOON SKY SOUTHWEST OF HAYS'" The strangest sights await the pilgrim who ventures into Kansas. Where else can you see a riverbed filled with tumbleweed or water that runs red out of the tap? In the morning we were so rusted up that we had to swallow WD-40 to get our arms and legs moving. We saw many wonderful sights in Kansas, but not once did we go, "Ahhhhhhhh." We did say, "Egad!" a time or two. This is George Gurley. ***** [TOM AVERILL AS WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN OLEANDER]: Well, folks, like a lot of Kansans I worry about Wolf Creek. And when it's shut down and bumping in the night and looking like a bad investment, I worry even more. Wolf Creek, you see, is our dangerous attempt to hold onto the energy past, when we should invest in the future.

Reminds me of the time my daddy was darn near ruined financially, all because he tried to avoid the future. You see, this Wichita fella came to Here, Kansas, back when most of the farmers used horses to plow and plant and cultivate and harvest. But mechanizing farming was in the future. "No," said the Wichita fella. "You just need a stronger, cheaper horse, and I've got one." And he told us Here folks about a breed stallion named Reactor, imported all the way from Mongolia. This horse worked like a powerhouse from sunup to sundown, hardly ate a thing. It was small and tough, a sure breeder, and in just a few years if we'd invest in this creature we'd have cheaper, stronger, more efficient and reliable horsepower. Folks in Here wanted to keep on horse farming. Like most folks, they were in love with the word "cheap" -- even if it is what a chicken says. A group of them went to see Reactor, the breeder. I rode along. North of Wichita we found this salesman's barn. As we approached, we heard a loud

booming and a high-pitched screaming whinny. "Don't worry," said the man. "That's normal for Reactor." He took us inside for a look, and how could you not want a creature like that -- sleek, powerful, compact -- a beautiful specimen furiously contained in a stall made of cement. Every once in a while he'd rear up and sound out that concrete with the tough hollows of his back hooves. The man showed us Reactor's offspring and the feeding charts. It looked mighty good. "So why are you so selling him?" asked my father. "Well his genes are in my stock. It's time to share." My father put his money down and went home happy. So what went wrong? Well, first off, Daddy wasn't good with cement. The neighbors inspected Reactor's stall and shook their heads. My father rebuilt the thing twice just to get a good thickness. Then we got the horse. Do you think we could contain Reactor? Boy, every time we turned him out to breed, he serviced the heated mare and took off like a lightning bolt. Daddy lost countless hours chasing that horse instead of working.

And the damages? Reactor paid no attention to barbed wire. Almost everyone around Here and Near Here built new fences, courtesy of my daddy. One morning after Reactor broke through his cement stall and disappeared in a cloud of dust, Pa got his gun. "I better put a stop to this before I lose the other half of my shirt fencing all of There County." That was the last of that breeder, Reactor -- shot to death down by Three Wolves Creek. Our stock improved for a little while, but we didn't get much dividend. Here, Kansas, saw the future and bought tractors. My daddy regretted his flirtation with Reactor. As he said, "I've spent all my life looking at the hind end of a horse. Didn't realize I'd become such a horse's ass." Folks, we Kansans should invest in the future, not in the power as we know it. We've spent money building our reactor and disposing of its waste. We've lost money while it thumps and bumps and while it's shut down. If we had put those dollars into wind and solar

power instead, why we'd be the state of the future. We wouldn't be looking at the hind end of the past, worrying where it might lead us. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: With the excitement of the Kansas primary now behind us -- wow, wasn't that something -- and nothing major coming up in the immediate future, it may be a good time to take stock of this political year in mid session. In a few months, all the pre-election maneuvering will become a blur thanks to natural psychological defenses that protect us from remembering the pain of selecting our presidential candidates. Reflecting on the campaign to date, it strikes me that we've learned quite a bit -- both about our candidates and ourselves. First of all, it's become perfectly clear that candidates do best when they leave the campaign trail. Paul Tsongas is the finest example, and he demonstrated his acute intelligence by refusing to be drawn back into the primaries. It was a keen, strategic move, which may keep alive his slim chances for the nomination.

Bill Clinton hasn't done too badly when he's campaigned, but he's been at his best when he's returned to Arkansas and followed the orders to keep his mouth shut. And take George Bush -- please. When he campaigned against Pat Buchanan he got about 60% of the vote. Now that he's stopped, he's getting 75% or so. We'll see if he remembers this tactic once the general election campaign heats up. In many ways the electorate has been more problematic than the candidates, which is saying something. For example, the voters have been blaming the politicians for a lack of choice. Maybe, but this year we've had an old time Democrat in Tom Harkin; a new era guy in Jerry Brown; a business Democrat in Paul Tsongas; an ambitious blow-dry officeholder in Bill Clinton; an incumbent desperately wanting to hold on in George Bush; and a right wing pit bull in Pat Buchanan -- quite a range, all things considered. Toss in H. Ross Perot, a billionaire populist who doesn't seem to care much for the Constitution, and we could hardly

complain about choice. Yet the electorate has been staying away from the polls in droves, and we've often voted for the most personalized of reasons rather than exploring the great policy differences among the candidates. More than that, voters have learned to ask for everything, like better healthcare, without having to pay for it -- and we label our candidates as cynics. Indeed, more and more, politics has become a spectator sport in which elites and the electorate alike stand back from political life, acting more like critics than participants. We revile the candidates and take off on those like Congressmen who actually had the temerity to hold office for years. An endless series of surveys report that the public wants more services with no additional tax revenue. We hate the deficit and reject policies that would reduce it. We dislike campaigning by scandal and revel in the tidbits that come spewing forth from the media. Above all, we don't take part -- not even by voting. The Kansas primary was a bust.

Turnout was pathetic, even though we could have followed the lead of our courageous governor by casting a resounding vote for, quote, "None of the above," the ultimate non-choice that we rejected by remaining on the sidelines, spectators to the end. ***** [MALE SPEAKER]: Cable TV has an equation that's as central to its development as E = mc^2 is to physics. That equation is N+1. It stands for the capacity of the new video delivery technologies always to carry one more signal. To me, N+1 is the cornucopia equation promising a never ending supply of different programming. It's done pretty well at providing that programming diversity. Between the local stations, the super stations, the specialty channels, and the premium channels, you can punch up stuff ranging from Mr. Ed to English detective series to great movie classics to Russian newscasts. You can watch more aerial action from WWII than most pilots did. But where N+1 fails points up a great irony -- the

demand remains high for general mass audience programming, and the networks continue to feel the pressure whenever they cancel a so-called "quality program" that's slower in effect at attracting a sufficiently large audience. Several examples recently -- "I'll Fly Away" is about to drop out of the airwaves. It has a small but very loyal following that TV Guide reports is mounting a letter-writing campaign. "Life Goes On" is going off, and some intellectuals are very concerned about that. They see it as the loss of an important role model, a young man with Down Syndrome who's functioning in the mainstream. They say the loss of the role model affects not only those with Down Syndrome who need an inspiration, but everybody, because we all need to be exposed to the phenomenon. It's more than just a letter-writing campaign. The "Life Goes On" camp is rallying support on electronic bulletin boards, and it's picked up some followers. Some circles have reacted by saying, "Why bother? If the networks don't see a future in it, they can't be coerced to be keeping it on the air." True enough. A letter-writing campaign saved "Cagney & Lacey" -- for a while. Then it was

gone. "Fame" went from network to syndication to cable, then faded away. The N+1 theory has its limitations. One of them is that it doesn't take into account programming costs. The most successful shows on cable are repeats of some sort. They're British shows repackaged for the U.S.; they're reruns of network programming; they're archival footage of pursued planes shooting up trains, bombers, and each other. In short, they're cheap. Cable TV has a poor record of introducing new programming. Its most powerful innovation is and has been for some time the 24 hour news channel. Most new material debuts on the networks. They're still the most viable focus for shaking out the slow starters from the losers, the "Hill Street Blues" from the "Chicken Soups." And especially the networks are the focus of attention when people get to worrying about what other people watch -- witness "Life Goes On." What the networks air seems equated with what America as a whole watches. That's something that hasn't changed whether we've had N+1 or N+none. *****

[PATTY HACKNEY]: This is a sad day in Kansas. We now have one of the most restrictive abortion laws in the country. Of course, the law Finney signed this week is unconstitutional under Roe vs. Wade, but we all know what direction the virtually wombless Supreme Court is going. It's true that this law codifies the right to an abortion in Kansas under certain circumstances when the fetus is not viable; that it repeals the old criminal abortion laws; that it makes sure cities and counties can't pass their own abortion legislation and make an even worse mess of things. But it accomplishes those goals by sacrificing the rights of young women. Most of this law is aimed at making it more difficult for women 18 and under to get an abortion. Of course the post-viability restrictions rival those in Guam, Louisiana, and Utah, with no provision to protect the health of the mother. The legislators supporting the Kansas law have patted themselves on the back and hugged each other ad nauseam regarding their supposed compromise. I've got news for you -- there's

no compromise if you're 18 or younger, female, and pregnant. The delays and roadblocks this bill sets up can be dangerous and costly. It requires parental notification, outside counseling, an eight hour waiting period, an adult to be actively involved and come with the young woman. I mean, how many people does she have to tell? The bill says she doesn't have to tell her parents if it's incest, but then the doctor has to tell SRS, they must investigate, and it's a round robin to parental notification, even if incest is involved. And our dear, devoted governor, who hasn't figured out the separation of church and state yet, has vowed to use administrative regulations to create even more restrictions. Ironic, isn't it, that the same legislature that passes a bill restricting access to abortions for young women also proposed a bill cutting welfare benefits if a woman has over two children or doesn't have a high school education. We're cutting options for pregnant teens no matter what they decide. What next? Saltpeter in the high school cafeteria? A "Ban-the-Hormones" campaign? Let's get real, folks. To be fair, this is an emotional issue for people on both sides of the debate. We decide our

positions based on our personal experiences and beliefs. My personal experiences include the fact that my mother had an illegal abortion because of a rape in the '40s. Her pain and humiliation of how she was treated -- riding in a bus alone to a kitchen in a back Miami alley -- is something she was unable and unwilling to discuss until shortly before she died. She wanted me to know that's why she supported a woman's right to choose whether to carry a pregnancy to term -- a woman's right to dignified healthcare. There are many secrets behind closed doors in many families in this country. No one, including Joan Finney, her church, the Kansas legislature, the Bush bunch, some judge, or even parents have the right to tell an 18 year old that she has to remain pregnant or that she has to have an abortion. She has a choice, at least for another couple months. This is a healthcare issue, and the government has no business being involved. But Kansas has crossed the line, restricting a basic right of privacy. Therefore the focus now must be on the Congress and getting the Freedom of Choice Act passed. Calamity Joan may as well have held her new shotgun up to the heads of young Kansas

women, and it's fitting that her new toy has the state seal on it. I'm Patty Hackney, and thank goodness I'm fixed.