The I-man and the media elite

The I-man was definitely on a roll. Scowling behind the mike in his high-tech basement studio in Astoria, Queens, he ridiculed Bill Clinton, sparred with White House adviser Paul Begala, yukked it up with A1 D'Amato, swapped insights with ABC's Jeff Greenfield, and arranged a date for his brother, Fred.

Then, without missing a beat, Imus turned to me and announced what was really on his mind: the traumatic experience of washing his "wiener" with rodent-like Mickey Mouse soap during a recent stay at Disneyland. Talk about quick transitions.

Over the past year, as his syndicated radio show has spread to forty-five cities, Don Imus has become a morning ritual for much of the incestuous media community. And journalists do more than listen: Dan Rather, Tim Russert, Connie Chung, Anna Quindlen, Frank Rich, Cokie Roberts, and Greenfield are among the regular call-in guests. Politicians too, from Bob Dole to Al Gore, who recently asked to come on Imus in the Morning.

You get good buzz from the show. The morning I was on -- our topic was "how journalists can't suck enough," as Imus so elegantly put it -- I got instant feedback from the editor of The Boston Globe, the deputy managing editor of The Washington Post, and the publicist for 60 Minutes.

All of which raises the cosmic question: What gives? Why do card-carrying members of the media elite tune in to a guy who, when he's not dissecting the news, is just as likely to be playing a parody of Rush Limbaugh singing "That's Why the First Lady is a Tramp," crudely insulting Peter Jennings, or discussing his aforesaid wiener?

Here's one theory: journalists must strive to be objective and measured. Imus gets to viciously attack people we must be polite to. As straight man Charles McCord, seated to his right, reads the headlines, Imus says whatever hideous thing pops into his head. One recent morning, Imus called Newt Gingrich "a man who would eat roadkill," O.J. Simpson a "moron," Alice Rivlin a "little dwarf," Robert Novak the man with "the worst hair on the planet," and Ted Kennedy "a fat slobwith a head the size of a dumpster." No wonder media types find him fascinating: he breaks all our rules. Some of us relish the naughtiness of a man who can call the president of the United States a "fat pantload" and still get him on the program.

Another factor: he shares our cultural zeitgeist. He reads The New York Times and The Washington Post and the New York tabloids, watches MacNeil/Lehrer and Meet the Press and knows rock 'n' roll. His brilliant comedic bits with the impersonators who play Richard Nixon, Ross Perot, Walter Cronkite, and Rush Limbaugh appeal to the insider audience.

Not to all of us, however. Morton Kondracke, executive editor of the Washington, D.C., Roll Call, is one example of a journalist who finds Imus to be too much. He was so disgusted by Imus's routine -- particularly a rap song called "Pimp Slap the Ho," which bore some relation to Clinton and Paula Jones -- that he refused to do commentaries on Imus's Washington station. "I didn't want any part of it. It's over my line," he says. Kondracke nevertheless concedes that he sometimes tunes in, and that Imus can be funny.

Russert, NBC's Washington bureau chief and the host of Meet the Press, says he finds some bits "distasteful," but adds, "It's a very smart variety show. Anyone who dismisses it is being a little aloof and arrogant. If you're interested in politicians and pundits, they are more refreshingly candid on that program than where you normally see and hear them."

"It's done in such good humor," says CBS's Rather. "If you can't take a joke, go somewhere else."

Getting friendly with Imus, however, can be dangerous. Nightline's Jeff Greenfield once made the mistake of inviting Imus to a dinner party. The I-man made fun of the invitation on the air and then raffled it off to a listener, whereupon an embarrassed Greenfield withdrew it.

True, Imus doesn't have the top-rated morning show (he's fourth in Boston, tied for fourth in New York, and twenty-sixth in Washington). But many of his two million daily listeners -- about two-thirds of them men -- are the kind of high-income, highly educated folks advertisers love.

Which leads to another reason that big-name journalists and politicians faithfully arise at the crack of dawn to phone in. "Imus moves the merchandise," says Rather, who plugged his new book in a recent appearance. About 200 people showed up for Rather's Manhattan book signing that day, "and at least 100 of them said, 'I heard you on Imus this morning.'"

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