How Walter Cronkite Met Clay Hudson

Several years ago my partner – Tim Sabo – and I were asked to come up with a campaign for UT. Tim had already come up with the slogan “We’re Texas”. The line had a certain braggadociousness to it and things just clicked. I came up with a lot of lines that had a real swagger to them – “We’re not an Ivy League school. Those are in the northeast. You know… those small states.”

The client liked the stuff and we had been thinking about who would be the perfect voice for the commercials. Tim had a list of celebrity alums – Matthew McConaughey, Owen Wilson, Farrah Fawcett and a few others. But one name had always stuck out.

Walter Cronkite.

No offense to Matthew McConaughey but I mean Walter Cronkite. Come on. Wal. Ter. Cron. Kite. Truth be told, I had been writing the lines with that voice in my head. Maybe that’s what gave the lines their heft in the first place.

Our producer at the agency was a great guy named David Hepp. I have no idea how we got ahold of Walter Cronkite or what was said but the next thing I know I’m handed a plane ticket and told where to be.

NPR in Los Angeles. After hours, about 6pm. As I recall he was recording something there for a radio show called the 20^th Century and he was recording with a Nobel Laureate as I walked in. I was in the reception area. A very distinguished looking older woman was standing in the doorway to the recording studio and she was very helpful since I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I told her I was here to record Walter Cronkite and she asked me about the blanket I was holding. I told her it was from the UT sailing team because we had heard that Mr Cronkite loved sailing. She told me he’d love it and to have a seat and not be nervous. I didn’t know I looked nervous but I guess I did. Later I found out this helpful woman was his wife.

Walter Cronkite had an awesome executive assistant. Awesome in that she scared the hell out of me. She was the kind of woman you would imagine running a Black Ops mission for the enemy in a Jason Bourne movie. She took me to a side room and informed me that Mr Cronkite had a limited amount of time and that I was very lucky to be afforded this opportunity. She looked at the scripts and sneered her approval of the way I had typed every script in large letters. She told me not to engage him in conversation and to call him Mr Cronkite. And she told me he would do one take and one take only of each script and that I was not allowed to direct him. I was to walk in, hand him the scripts, sit there quietly, let him read them into the microphone and then leave.

Wow. Walter Cronkite must be kind of a jerk.

So I’m waiting and now I’m freaking out. I can hear them finish up in the recording studio and Walter (in my head I’m calling him Walter; screw the Black Ops lady) is saying to his wife that it’s finally time to head out for drinks with their friends. Black Ops tells him that “the gentleman from UT is here to record those commercials first.”

Great. Now I’m the bad guy. Thanks Black-Ops lady. But from inside the studio I heard Walter singing: “The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the livelong day…”

He sounds drunk.

Assassin Lady comes out to crisply usher me in with her clipboard. The older woman (his wife) rolls her eyes, smiles, and motions for me to come on. So I walk in and there he is.

Walter f-ing Cronkite. I have no idea what I said. It was kind of like falling off a building in slow motion. But I do remember he was nothing but gracious and comforting. He was smiling at me. He wasn’t drunk, he was just nice and human. The Jason Bourne-killing Black Ops nightmare lady had scared me five pounds lighter for nothing. He was a big teddy bear. He shook my hand, asked me how I liked Austin, and I remember he thanked me for coming all the way out there to do this.

I went back to calling him Mr Cronkite immediately and we were both set down at the NPR broadcasting booth to start the session. I was in front of a mic with headphones on just like him. It occurred to me that it looked like I was broadcasting with Walter Cronkite and to this day I wake up and kick myself every morning for not having the guts to ask somebody to take a picture of that.

So Mr Cronkite is looking over the scripts and he’s chuckling. I’m loosening up a bit. The engineer, Mrs Cronkite, Black Ops, and a few others are behind the sound proof glass looking at us. Black Ops is smiling. What’s up with that?

The engineer says through our headphones, “Let’s roll one.” So Mr Cronkite starts reading the first script into his mic.

Now. A commercial has to be read in thirty seconds. The way we do this is we time the words out and make sure they fit. But sometimes the actor has to read a little faster or a little slower. That’s why we do a few takes. Not just the one and only one take that I’m allowed with Mr Cronkite per the Jason Bourne-killer’s strict orders.

But I’m not worried about the timing. Mr Cronkite is reading at the perfect pace and the commercials are meant to have a lot of air anyway. What I’m worried about is the word he just messed up. Completely. Didn’t even sound human. I’m freaked out because this is the one take I’m allowed to get. He finishes and turns the page for the next script. I’m wondering if we can hire somebody to do a Walter Cronkite impression to fill in the missing word or if the same word is said somewhere else in another script so we can edit it in.

He starts to read the next script but stops and turns to me and says, “If any of this doesn’t sound right, just tell me and we’ll do it as many times as it takes.” Go to hell Black Ops, me and my buddy are doing some commercials here. So I tell him he kinda, sorta, maybe completely screwed up a word. We did it again. Then I told him it needed to be a little more sarcastic. We did it again. Then he told me to just read it the way I was hearing it. So I did. And I realized I was doing a very bad Walter Cronkite impression. He smiled and read it again. Perfect. Much better than my Walter Cronkite.

So we got the spots recorded and he was as nice as could be. Before we were finished, he said “Here’s how you ought to record them.” And he proceeded to read one of the scripts in a very bad, way-over-the-top southern accent. Pretty funny.

He shook my hand and thanked me and asked if I wanted a picture so I do have a picture somewhere of me looking like an idiot standing next to Walter Cronkite. He signed an autograph and said goodbye and good luck and walked out. Black Ops touched me on the shoulder, leaned in for a conspiratorial smile and a wink, and whispered to me, “Mr Cronkite had a good time. Thank you.” Maybe that was a mind fuck but it seemed sincere and looking back she was probably an amazing lady.

I just stood there for a few minutes till I realized I was all alone. The air had been sucked out of the room as soon as he left. I picked up my stuff and went to my rental car. My little recording session was nothing but a gnat on the ear of Walter Cronkite’s life but, obviously, I still remember it. And whenever anybody asks if I’ve ever met anybody famous I think about the commercial I did with Shaq, the one I did with Tony Romo, the one I did with Morgan Freeman, the one I did with Patrick Stewart… and I say, “Yep. Walter Cronkite.”