Rebecca Traister Would Like Katie Couric To Shut Up

There is plenty to chew over in Joe Hagan's profile of Katie Couric in this week's New York magazine — enough to keep TVNewser in overdrive yesterday, what with her talk of CBS being cheap, blaming viewers for being resistant to change, the odd "slapping" incident where Couric was taken off guard by the word "sputum" on the teleprompter (making one wonder why she hadn't seen it before), her admission that she might not have signed on so easily for the kind of newscast she's doing now, her misty-eyed comment about having "more of a life" working for 60 Minutes, the defensive, "personally authorized" babblings of Couric pal Nicolla Hewitt, the bitter recriminations about the CBS traitors in her midst, the bitterness of those 'traitors' about Katie's giant payday versus their own slashed salaries, the second-guessing, the hedging, the thinly-veiled regret.

Yes, there was a lot to wonder about from that juicy, juicy interview — including the very fact that Katie Couric would even stoop to give it. Over at Salon, Rebecca Traister smacks herself in the forehead wondering why the hell Couric would need to do such a thing — why Couric, "long known as a world-class ball-buster with a heart of gold" has "finally gone to mush." Traister hits it on the head in noting how bravdo and bluster are used by Couric's contemporaries:

Would Barbara Walters consent to a confessional about how things spun out of control on "The View"? Forget it: That woman could face the camera, while Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Rosie O'Donnell barbecued each other's livers behind her, and assure viewers that everyone was best friends, with the low pulse of a serial killer.

And would Diane Sawyer, whose "creamy insincerity" was immortalized by the New York Times, chew over her own shortcomings with a reporter after she lost ABC's evening news berth to testicularly advantaged Charlie Gibson? Hell, no. She would smile gorgeously and convince everyone that everything turned out precisely how she, Diane Sawyer, wanted it to.

Couric's self-effacing vulnerability may be the mark of a human being who is anxious to give voice to her own self-questioning before someone else says it behind her back. Is it more likable -- and more comfortable -- when a woman is disarmingly upfront and full of humility? You bet. But is it compatible with the kind of bluster that gives imposing machers their power? Not so much.

Traister, with her keen eye for gender politics, picks up on the difference between how Couric handles the situation versus Rick Kaplan — who breezed in after last year's unceremonious ouster at MSNBC like a conquering hero as opposed to a floating exec in need of a second chance — and Les Moonves, where the buck supposedly stops at CBS:

Couric should take a course with her CBS colleague Rick Kaplan, described by Hagan as "an imposing force" with an ugly temper who slams his fists on tables (a habit that has gotten little pickup in the press, though a throwaway anecdote about Couric playfully slapping a news writer has tabloids everywhere blaring "Katie slaps colleague!"). When questioned about Couric's performance, Kaplan cockily tells Hagan that the 2008 election will be the moment when Couric will "prove all the things she can do, and, boy, do I like our chances." Or maybe she can score some pointers from "barrel-chested" Les Moonves, who, when asked if he bears any responsibility for Couric's slack ratings, succinctly replies: "Nope. I really don't."

Traister wants the old Couric back: The one who drove up her salary and drove out producers — all while driving ratings, without a goddamned apology. In so noting, Traister hits on the greatest irony of all: For all of the wondering about Couric's girlishness, her lack of "gravitas," her handicap in being taken seriously like a man, the old Katie had balls, and wasn't afraid to use them. Now, buttoned up and toned down (as opposed to "tarted up and dumbed down"), Couric has capitulated to conventional ideas of what a female anchor should be: Serious, muted, authoritative and mannish...except when it comes times to apologize.

No Apologies, Katie Couric! [Salon]

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