We had really wanted to see George Clooney’s performance as Edward R. Murrow in his production of “Good Night, and Good Luck” at the Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway this Spring. Life being what it is, one thing and another came up, and we didn’t get to make the trip to NYC to do so. So, this past Saturday night, we tuned in as CNN made a bit of history (as Anderson Cooper repeatedly told us) when it televised the play’s final performance to its worldwide television audience.

At least, whatever audience CNN still has these days, the drumbeat grows deafening that linear television has been relegated to near-extinct status.

We’ll admit here to being fans of Mr. Clooney as an actor, producer, and supporter of journalism for quite some time. He comes by that honestly, as the son of longtime local newsman Nick Clooney, whom we have competed against and met on several occasions. Son George grew up around his father, who worked in local television news in Cincinnati. As a result, his appreciation for the business, and in turn its legacy as established by Murrow’s work in the nascent years of the television medium, is strong.

The original movie version of “Good Night, and Good Luck” premiered some 20 years ago, in which Clooney played Fred Friendly, Murrow’s producing partner, and later, the President of CBS News. Friendly would quit that position in 1966 over the issue of corporate interference in his desire to have the network cover the US Senate hearings into the nation’s involvement in the Vietnam War. For the Broadway production, he would play Murrow himself. (We have to admit now that we preferred him as Friendly, along with actor David Strathairn’s masterful portrayal of Murrow in the film version.)

But it was a fine production, even stirring, some might say. Especially to hear Murrow’s words given voice in this precarious moment of American history, which draws parallel to the troubling days known as “The Red Scare” in the 1950s. Yes, the nation was gripped by a brash politician who deftly used the media spotlight of the moment to conduct a thinly-veiled campaign of nationalism packaged in a questionable effort to “expose” communist infiltration of the United States government, if not the entirety of the nation itself.

Murrow and Friendly’s courage in doing so, and in pushing back on CBS Chairman Bill Paley’s effort to tone down the coverage to protect his business empire from the wrath of McCarthyism that had its champion and supporters in Washington, DC. While it is easy to understand “The Junior Senator from Wisconsin” as the key figure in the dark chapter of our nation’s history, the depth of how subversive the movement that also promoted an “America First” campaign was so much deeper than one man, chairing the hearings of “The Subcommittee of Investigations for the Committee on Government Operations.”

If your knowledge of this particular period of US History is lacking, as admittedly ours was (given that we were born after the events portrayed in “Good Night, and Good Luck), let us recommend the excellent two seasons of Rachel Maddow’s MSNBC podcast titled “ULTRA." It does a brilliant job of telling the story of the rise of the ultra-nationalist movement from before America entered into World War II through to after the war and the ultimate showdown over McCarthyism in the 1950s. The story is told through the effective use of period sound (including NBC Radio newscasts from the time) and interviews with historians who explain what would sound like an amazing novel about spies and counterintelligence—except that this all actually happened here.

Speaking of political novels, if you haven’t ever read 1935’s “It Can’t Happen Here” by Sinclair Lewis (or read it lately), you might want to get a copy or download it to your Kindle. Before somebody decides to ban it because it seems a bit too prescient in its premise.

Returning to the big night on Broadway, we hope you had the opportunity to see the telecast of “Good Night, and Good Luck,” as it is not planned to be made available for streaming viewing. We’d assume that is because the rights would be too complicated to allow for that delivery, and there is also the rumor that Clooney and company may take the production to the London stage at a future date. (Given the record-breaking box office in its limited Broadway run, it is easy to understand the motivation to do so.)

Following the play, CNN aired a live studio special, led by the network’s Anderson Cooper. It featured a panel of journalists, before an audience of journalism students and educators, to discuss the play’s message and its connection to current-day events and the state of journalism. The panel featured Walter Isaacson, author, journalist, and former President of CNN; Kara Swisher, noted tech journalist and podcaster; CNN Anchor Abby Phillip; groundbreaking network news anchor Connie Chung; Jorge Ramos, former longtime national anchor at Univision; and Bret Stephens, Opinion columnist for The New York Times.

There was the predictable analysis and opinion on why the play and its message matter greatly in the year 2025, as well as what it says about the challenges of practicing journalism at this time. There was discussion about whether there is a Murrow-like figure in this moment, and whether he (or she) would be allowed to do the work that aired on “See It Now” some 76 years ago. That question got further probed by a recorded interview segment that Cooper did with fellow CBS “60 Minutes” anchor Scott Pelley. This was presented against the backdrop of the not-so-subtle behind-the-scenes machinations between the broadcast and its corporate owner, Paramount Global, as the company attempts to effect a merger that is being stalled by both the White House and the FCC.

For extra emphasis, the CNN special concluded with another recorded interview, this one with the longtime journalist and author Marvin Kalb. Kalb has the distinction of being the last journalist hired by Murrow himself. Having spent much time with Murrow in his later years, Kalb reemphasized the questions and his beliefs on what Murrow would think of the state of journalism today, as well as its current ability to “speak truth to power.”

But it was a moment in the panel discussion that left the biggest impression on us. It came when NYT opinion writer Bret Stephens tried to delineate the difference between “Facts” and “Truth.” It was an illuminating moment in Stephens' premise that while facts are undeniable and verifiable, truth is often “in the eye of the beholder.” This drew immediate pushback from CNN’s Abby Phillip, who attempted to equate the two terms by asking whether all facts were indeed the truth. The nuance that Stephens attempted to convey was that while facts can be accepted by all who are aware of them, the concept of truth is shaped by each person’s worldview.

We so wished that Anderson Cooper had seized on this for further discussion because it is our view that this distinction is fundamentally at the heart of everything in question with the “business of journalism” today. Because the idea that “news” has been expanded into including “opinion” as a normal and acceptable part of whatever journalism is being practiced under the banner of news. For example, see the programming that is offered on any national “news” network, newspaper, or any other outlet—be it legacy or new media. “Talking heads” or news analysis is offered as being equivalent to the presentation of facts.

“Truth is whatever you can get enough people to believe.” That quote from Jack Holmes, a political editor at Esquire magazine, is sometimes wrongly attributed (in a shorter form) to Fox News Channel founder and CEO, the late Roger Ailes. It is also used in a similar form by the author Joseph Heller in the 1984 book “God Knows.”

But the idea actually dates back to the Greek playwright Sophocles, who wrote, “What people believe prevails over the truth.” And that is at the heart of journalism’s existential crisis that Murrow warned of, which the play “Good Night, and Good Luck” celebrates. While much of the “book” of the play focuses on the “See It Now” reporting on McCarthy and “The Red Scare,” the cautionary messages come at the play’s beginning and end. They are taken from Murrow’s 1958 speech before the Radio-Television News Directors Association convention.

Yes, it is the speech where Murrow uses his now-infamous line, calling television “this instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and even it can inspire.” He goes on to note that it can do so “only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise, it’s nothing but wires and lights in a box.”

In the midst of CNN’s “post-play” roundtable, anchor Anderson Cooper had to interrupt the program to introduce a live reporter in Los Angeles, where protests had broken out in multiple locations over immigration raids and detentions by the federal government. It was a moment of real-time news interrupting a group of “talking heads” analyzing a Broadway production about the news business to talk about the current state of that same business. The irony was not lost on us.

In his original RTNDA address, Murrow notes more than once that “Our history will be what we make it.” But on later reference, he adds what might be his more profound and prophetic words: “If we go on as we are, then history will take its revenge, and retribution will not limp in catching up with us.”

Notably, he did not end that address with his famous sign-off (and future title of both a great Hollywood and Broadway production) of saying “Good Night, and Good Luck.”

Instead, he simply said, “Thank you for your patience.”

(Thank you for yours here, this went on a little longer than we planned for it to. Appreciate your reading all of it.)