It's the end of an era. Recently America lost one of its most iconic voices, the inimitable Larry King, who, by his count, led more than 50,000 interviews across his storied career.
As someone privileged to sit across from King's microphone more than once, I've been reflecting on his life and the lessons he leaves for us.
King's on-air debut began inauspiciously--with an awkward silence. As he told it, he was 23 and still going by his birth name, Lawrence Zeiger, when he got the chance to step in for a disc jockey at the Miami radio station where he worked. Shortly before the show began, his station manager convinced him to change his name. Unfortunately, at the moment he was supposed to go live, he froze and missed his cue.
Finally, the station manager broke the spell: "This is a communications business, damn it! Communicate."
King's first words on air were, "My name is Larry King," an explanation of what had just happened, and a humble request for the audience's patience as he overcame first-day jitters at his dream job.
King never forgot this baptism by fire, nor the knowledge he took away from it:
- His mission, at its core, was to communicate;
- The value of being honest and open with his listeners.
Through the decades that followed, even when he had become a household name, he refused to complicate or compromise these fundamentals. His style--candid, casual, unadorned--had no more pretense at the height of his popularity than it had on day one. And if his fear before the mic disappeared, he never lost any of his wonder.
Whether King was talking to an audience of millions or an audience of one, he let his curiosity lead. Famously, he didn't over-prepare for his interviews; instead, he asked the "who, what, where, when, why" questions he imagined his listeners shared. By his own admission, one of his favorite questions was, "What happened?" His interest was not in showing off his own intellect, but in sparking a good conversation.
I was fortunate to appear on "Larry King Live" at several pivotal moments in my career. His was my first-ever national interview when it was announced that I would be President Clinton's White House Chief of Staff. I was deeply honored to have the opportunity to serve, and there was no better forum than King's show.
We met at the Old State House Museum in Little Rock, which served as our makeshift studio. I'll always be grateful to the hometown audience whose presence helped put me at ease.
King's producer Wendy Walker was a consummate professional, as adept as King at making people feel comfortable and treating them with fairness and respect. That's why, when she called the day I stepped down as chief, and invited me and my successor Leon Panetta to join the show that same evening, I didn't hesitate.
A different interviewer might have tried to pit us against one another. President Clinton, Panetta, and I all trusted King would come to the table without an ulterior motive.
That trust is what enabled King to earn so many incredible "gets," from notoriously guarded celebrities such as Marlon Brando to prominent leaders on the world stage. In 1995, viewers watched in awe as Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat, and King Hussein bin Talal of Jordan came together on "Larry King Live" to discuss prospects for Middle East peace.
A little less than two years earlier, the Clinton administration had brokered the historic Israeli-PLO Peace Accords. Now King had managed to beam this high-wire act of diplomacy into millions of American homes.
Larry King's talent helped propel CNN to new heights while giving viewers a common access point to personalities across the range of politics, sports, and culture. He was intent on seeing the humanity in everyone he met and, it turns out, he had a genuine interest in humans, which yields the best human-interest stories.
He did not prejudge his guests. He gave them all the space to be themselves, and what they revealed was more telling and interesting than any "gotcha" tactic could produce.
King was not a perfect man, nor did he claim to be one. He'd struggled with gambling, debt, broken marriages, and a series of health difficulties. I'd like to think his challenges helped shape his broad perspective and big heart. Away from the spotlight, he was a generous philanthropist and a ready, caring friend.
As we mourn such a legend, we could stand to take a page from his book. While King sometimes faced criticism for not being aggressive enough with interview subjects, he had no interest in fueling a fight, pushing a fixed ideology, or burnishing his own brand. Humility, honesty, curiosity, trust, and an instinct for building rapport--these are the qualities he brought to his craft, to the very end.
My last interview with King was a few years ago. I joined him from a studio in New York. He was in his 80s, on-point as ever, and wearing his signature suspenders. At the end of our segment, he warmly thanked me for my time, and observed that we'd been through many passages together. His eyes were smiling behind his black frames. "Mack," he said, "I hope we'll have a few more."
We didn't get that chance. But Larry King's legacy lives on for people worldwide. In an age of polarized political discourse and media fragmentation, his memory reminds us to make space for simple questions, and for listening to one another with wonder.
Thomas F. "Mack" McLarty III, who served as White House chief of staff, counselor, and special envoy for the Americas under President Bill Clinton, is chairman of McLarty Companies, in Little Rock, and McLarty Associates in Washington, DC.