Introduction: It Takes a Vineyard
The Untold Story of Walter Cronkite
The profound influence of a small island on America’s first influencer
“When I get home I shall write a book about this place.” –Lewis Carroll’s Alice
A closely guarded secret lies just seven miles nestled off the coast of Cape Cod. It is so seductive that it lured the heart of one of the most powerful men in America. Once he met her he never left.
Getting there, however, proves to be no simple task unless you happen to be the captain of your very own Sparkman & Stephens Sunward 48 yacht like Walter Cronkite. For the great unwashed, and technically speaking that means most of us, the primary means of transport to Martha’s Vineyard is a ferry from Woods Hole, and that is just how the locals want to keep it — for themselves. As you embark on your maritime adventure, blending the invigorating scent of salt with the cheerful symphony of holiday merriment. Yet, amid this tranquil atmosphere, whispers of untold stories swirl around, reminding us that these waters can unexpectedly turn treacherous, carrying secrets hidden beneath a deceptively serene surface.
The island is known as a haven for sailing and tennis, but the sport that draws the most attention is the spirited game of name dropping, but the name most often dropped is Martha, as everyone who is anyone simply refers to her as “the Vineyard.” Once you get swept up in the ethos of informality that permeates every facet of existence you will find yourself irresistibly drawn in and want to be part of the dream.
The pleasures are abundantly clear. Life takes on a different hue here, and time is measured by the rhythm of sundowns, and worries dissolve into the frothy embrace of the sea. However, acceptance within this close-knit community does not come readily for newcomers, often disdainfully referred to as “washashores,” who grace the island’s rentals during the summer months. Yet, those who are perceptive about the unwritten rules and can navigate the intricacies of island life will find themselves tolerated and gradually embraced. This small stretch of sand, adrift in the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, remains easily within reach, yet its conquest proves tantalizingly elusive, eluding even the most experienced mariners.
Those who hail from far away places, however, are just as likely to hold the Vineyard’s rich heritage in proud esteem. Her roots trace back to the early 1600s when Bartholomew Gosnold, the visionary behind the Virginia Company of London and leader of the first recorded European expedition to New England, landed here. Before the ferry, we might add, it was a long trip. On May 21, 1602, Gosnold and his crew of 32 mariners stepped ashore greeted by an abundant tangle of vines. The sight must have made them so delirious in anticipation of the casks they would uncork,, Gosnold bestowed the island with the name of his beloved daughter, Martha. It was a practical lesson that seeing is not believing.
Before Gosnold could get his hands on a corkscrew, he discovered the vines bore no grapes, akin to a Jack in the Box devoid of its surprise. However, the disappointment etched upon the faces of those early colonialists may well have sparked the ingenuity of their descendants when it came to alternative forms of indigenous entertainment.
The Haughty and Naughty
Once you arrive, if you inquire about a Hertz dealer in the quaint village of Vineyard Haven, you’ll stick out like a big game hunter at a PETA conference. The locals will say you must be from New Jersey, a place deemed to be something close to purgatory, one step removed from hell. Instead, put on your deck shoes and take a leisurely stroll or hop on the charming old school bus that tours the entire island, showcasing serene beaches and awe-inspiring vistas like something out of a fairy tale.
When you spot well-to-do, mucky mucks in colorful Bermuda shorts strolling around like it’s nothing out of character — remember, it’s nothing out of character. So don’t take photos and remember the only autographs on Martha’s Vineyard are on an American Express Centurion receipt.
While indulging in a shopping spree in the village, I must emphasize — no, I implore you — do not purchase a Martha’s Vineyard hoodie. Oh, and be sure to slip into a pair of tennis shoes without socks, the epitome of Vineyard couture. As you venture further, don’t be surprised to spot renowned media moguls and members of Boston’s elite effortlessly strolling along, seamlessly blending in with an air of laid-back sophistication. In the past, the likes of Jackie O graced these streets regularly, and to this day, an impressive roster of fly-ins (who eschew the ferry for more exclusive modes of transportation) includes names such as Obama, Clinton, Bill Murray, Meg Ryan, Reese Witherspoon, Michael J. Fox, Spike Lee, Larry David, and Oprah. These adorable creatures can be spotted leisurely exploring French boutiques or savoring a cup of coffee in upscale cafes, mingling alongside esteemed intellectuals — a role that is considered honest work on the Vineyard. Additionally, expect to encounter a few owl-faced socialists, distinguished by receding hairlines and dignified gray sideburns, as they endeavor to put the moan back in money.
You see, Martha’s Vineyard has long served as a sanctuary for the affluent and famous elites who relish wealth, fame, and elitism, but prefer to keep it concealed. It’s a place where luminaries like Diane Sawyer keep their phone numbers listed, maintaining an atmosphere of understated elegance that permeates every nook and cranny. However, before you succumb entirely to the illusion of egalitarian flair, let’s delve into one of Martha’s Vineyard’s not-so-well-kept secrets.
Diversity is a subject that stirs mixed emotions on the island, and to bring it up means literally treading on delicate ground. While it is home to red hot liberals with BLM posters dotting their manicured lawns, the pretty local fauna are just the latest inhabitants of the 87 square miles of captivating oceanfront originally occupied by the Wampanoag people until the sale in 1641 by Englishman Thomas Mayhew. He did his bit by learning to speak Wampanoag, and after converting hundreds of the indigenous tribe to Christianity, went on to establish an Indian School in 1652. During that time period, the island’s population consisted solely of Europeans and Native American Indians until the arrival of enslaved West Africans in the 1600s, brought to toil on farms owned by European settlers.I should caution this is not cocktail party conversation on the Vineyard.
In these more humanitarian times, however, diversity extends beyond racial lines, although it is worth noting that an affluent Black community still thrives in Oak Bluffs. Nowadays, diversity is gauged purely by appearance — such as the color of one’s polo shirt or the subtle fade of worn-out khakis. However, we can take solace in the embrace of Martha’s Vineyard, a mesmerizing oasis that beckons with its timeless allure, where such concerns among the current residents become mere whispers carried away by the wind.
But fear not, for within the enchanting embrace of Martha’s Vineyard, an oasis that beckons you with its timeless allure, such concerns to the current residents become mere whispers in the delightful sea breeze.
So step into the mesmerizing island vibe which beckons you to savor understated charms that transcend mere opulence. Martha’s Vineyard, a realm where shabby chic reigns supreme, knows that while money can be veddy, veddy useful, darling when it comes to owning a beachfront manse valued at a cool five million, there are better ways to measure the good life. For example, if you happen to bump into one of the Vineyard’s intrepid sailors, they will regale you with anecdotes of flawless boating weather aboard a magnificent Westsail 42' that will set your poor old sailor’s heart aflutter. And that was precisely the marvel that lured Martha’s Vineyard’s most famous resident.
Apart from his illustrious broadcasting career, Walter Cronkite was deeply connected to the Vineyard, where he spent summers in Edgartown since his sixties. It was not just a getaway but a place that Cronkite could find solace and pursue his passions.
He once told a reporter, “in the morning, starting at 8, I can be found at the Edgartown Yacht Club and in the afternoon I’d rather be sailing, like the bumper stickers say.” Cronkite’s companions weren’t average Joe’s but unusual Mikes and Arts. He liked to pal around with fellow CBS 60 Minutes Correspondent Mike Wallace and columnist Art Buchwald. At the time he arrived in 1974, the news-anchor’s principal sporting interest was auto racing, but CBS in its wisdom found it too dangerous for their star newsman, so he chose sailing as a substitute sport. While cruising local waters, he spotted what seemed to be the ideal place to pursue his new found passion for sailing.
“The inland man or woman, having not grown up on the water, is more intrigued by the water than someone who has had it available to them all of their lives,” he told a Vineyard Gazette reporter in 1983. Afternoons when he was not sailing, he was quite content to simply sit on his porch above the bay and watch the boats below sail by.
Simon’s Shop
Back to the tour of Martha’s Vineyard, as you disembark the ferry, venture down New York Avenue. This street connects the harbor to a cluster of delightful shops just a short distance away. As you walk a few hundred yards, you’ll come across the iconic Black Dog restaurant, renowned for serving heavenly cheeseburgers. A little farther, you’ll pass what used to be the photography shop of Peter Simon, a cherished member of Martha’s Vineyard’s royalty, and it is here that the real story of Walter Cronkite begins.
Simon was the photo laureate of Martha’s Vineyard, his walls adorned with breathtaking images of icons like Jerry Garcia and his famous sister Carly. If we likened his photography to a safari, Simon’s photos were prized trophies. Everyone adored him. Everyone described Simon as the kind of person who greeted you with a warm embrace before asking your name. And he had stories to share — , I should know as I became one of them.
According to Simon, he started photographing Cronkite back in the 1970s, and their friendship blossomed over the years. In an era when there were only three networks and Cronkite graced the television screens five nights a week, “Uncle Walter” was famous and admired, in large part because there was something ineffable in his persona that never allowed fame to tarnish his down-to-earth nature. Although he did enjoy rubbing shoulders with celebrities over his summer vacation as a distraction from the life of an itinerant news gatherer, including Peter’s illustrious family, the Simon’s of Martha’s Vineyard.
“I always felt immensely honored that this remarkable man would consider me a friend, despite my post-hippie background,” Peter fondly recalled. “He attended numerous parties at my house, and he never put up any social barriers.” It was through these gatherings that Cronkite had the pleasure of getting to know Joanna Simon, an opera singer turned real estate broker in Manhattan. Eventually, Joanna sold him an apartment in the U.N. Plaza Towers where she and her husband resided, and it was here that Cronkite and his wife would find their new home in New York City.
And that, as the mystery writers like to say, is when the plot thickened.
Losing Cronkite
“And That’s The Way It Is”
— Walter Cronkite’s evening news sign off
The level of trust that Cronkite inspired is no accident. It was so profound that columnist James (Scotty) Reston of the New York Times noted that Cronkite’s news program garnered more viewers than all the nation’s newspapers combined. Remarking on Cronkite’s warm, mellow voice that was so familiar in so many living rooms at dinnertime, Reston said it was a voice that made disasters sound reasonable.
“Walter Cronkite wore his mantle as the most trusted man in America exceedingly lightly. As honored as he was, he never actually believed it.” — Morley Safer
His candid assessment of the Vietnam War during a 1968 broadcast earned him widespread acclaim, as documented in a profile I wrote for the American Philosophical Society, of which Cronkite was a distinguished member.
The impact of his words was particularly profound when he stated on the CBS Evening News, “It seems now more certain than ever that the bloody experience of Vietnam is to end in a stalemate.” President Johnson, upon hearing this, reportedly uttered, “If I’ve lost Walter Cronkite, I’ve lost middle America.” A mere five weeks later, President Johnson made the stunning announcement that he would not seek re-election. After all, his opponent was Cronkite, a veteran of World War II and a man known for his unwavering patriotism, not a peacenik Democrat. When the CBS anchor stated the obvious — that the Viet Cong had no intention of giving up and we had no intention of remaining in Vietnam for another generation — the common sense resonated and the protestors demonstrated.
In essence, Cronkite’s words went beyond challenging a president, they brought down a presidency and transformed America’s perception of its most controversial conflict and served as a catalyst for its tragic yet necessary resolution. It would not be an exaggeration to say that when Cronkite went negative the war was over.
It is worth taking a moment to reflect on what could have motivated Cronkite to confront the most powerful individual in the world. Today, such an act might result in loss of access to the public official, the lifeblood of a newsperson, and swift retaliation from the network. However, the source of his courage lay deep within Cronkite’s persona, igniting the spark that set everything about his life and career into motion. Like all profound inspirations, it originated in a special place.
Without revealing the end of this story, it can be said that Cronkite embodied the spirit of Missouri’s “Show Me” attitude and the integrity of a Kansas City Boy Scout, and that contributed enormously to his impact on the American public. The sense of place and Cronkite’s status as the most trusted man in America were inextricably intertwined. The problem with that model was, it meant that he would have to earn his reputation the hard way.
“Show Me”
Walter Leland Cronkite’s journey began on November 4, 1916, in Saint Joseph, Missouri, and at no time in his early life was a future as a prominent figure ever certain. Growing up in a Tom Sawyer-esque era, he attended local schools named Woodrow Wilson Elementary and San Jacinto High. At the age of nine, in 1925, Cronkite’s first job was peddling the Saturday issue of the Kansas City Star on streetcars for a net profit of 10 cents per week. As a result of that job, it can be said that Cronkite and Ernest Hemingway got their first jobs in journalism in the same town.
Initially, he had aspirations of becoming an actor and enrolled at the University of Texas at Austin. However, in 1935, he dropped out to pursue journalism. Cronkite’s path led him to Kansas City’s KCMO radio, where he met his future wife, Mary Elizabeth “Betsy” Maxwell, while working as a sports announcer. During this time, he adopted the on-air name “Walter Wilcox” to conform to the radio stations’ practice of using pseudonyms to prevent listeners from following announcers to other stations. It didn’t take very long for problems to arise when Cronkite first started. He refused to announce a tragic fire because it was based on hearsay of the program director’s wife.
The conversation went like this:
KCMO program director: You don’t have to check (if there was a fire). My wife called and told me.
Cronkite: I do too have to check on it.
Program Director: Are you calling my wife a liar?
Cronkite: I refused to go with the story, so the program director went on the air and ad-libbed a news bulletin.
Although there was no fire, there would be a firing — Cronkite’s. It wouldn’t be the last time he put his job on the line for the sake of good journalism. Although those scruples would land him in trouble time and again, as he told Katie Couric:
“I got in trouble from both sides of the aisle…whether liberals or conservatives. I thought I was doing something right because I would hear it from everybody.”
Despite his setback, Cronkite went on to become one of the most esteemed American war correspondents during World War II. He witnessed history unfold covering battles in North Africa and Europe. After the war, Cronkite reported on the Nuremberg trials and served as the main reporter for United Press in Moscow from 1946 to 1948.
In 1950, Cronkite embarked on a new chapter in his career, joining CBS News’ television division. Edward R. Murrow played a pivotal role in recruiting him. Cronkite started working at the CBS affiliate in Washington, D.C., where he anchored the network’s late-Sunday-evening newscast, a 15-minute program that followed the popular show What’s My Line? It is hard to realize that news in those days was so little watched it took only 15 minutes and followed a quiz show.
These days, journalists are prone to fall in love with political leaders whose views mirror their own. Cronkite understood the dangers of losing one’s perspective. To paraphrase Sun Tzu’s famous edict, he “kept his friends close and his politicians closer.”
In a prime example of ‘show me’, early in 1960 he interviewed then Senator John F. Kennedy before the presidential election. As recounted by Douglas Brinkley in his remarkable biography, Kennedy stumbled through the interview.
Interviewing President Kennedy photo: Walter Cronkite Memorial
As Douglas Brinkley related:
Cronkite had a date to interview Senator Kennedy at his Federal-style Georgetown home. Unfortunately, Kennedy blew the interview. It was clear that he hadn’t properly boned up for the program, confusing even his résumé on film. Once the camera rolled, Kennedy was all hems and haws.
While Cronkite was watching Kennedy’s botched interview in the CBS truck outside the candidate’s house, the CBS producer, Warren Abrams, came barging in, clearly panicked. “We’ve got to do the program over,” Abrams said.
“What’s the matter with it?” a perplexed Cronkite asked. “It’s all right in here. I’m looking at it.”
“Well, the senator says we have to do it over,”
“Well,” Cronkite fumed, “what right does he have?” Cronkite scoffed. “It’s because he blew that last question. I’ve got to talk to him.”
Cronkite stomped up the stairs of Kennedy’s home to encounter a startled JFK. Kennedy saw “a fire in Walter’s eyes that he didn’t know he had.”
Kennedy, looking straight at Cronkite said, “Tell me when you’re ready (to reshoot).”
Cronkite told Kennedy, “we’re going to have to carry a disclaimer. We’re going to say that Nixon’s was unrehearsed but that you requested to do yours over.”
“I can live with that,” JFK agreed.
In disbelief, Cronkite responded, ““All right, Senator. We’ll do it over. But I’ve got to tell you, I think it’s the lousiest bit of sportsmanship I ever saw in my life.”
Kennedy’s face turned pale with embarrassment. As a scion of one of America’s wealthiest families, he was unaccustomed to being denied his wishes. Yet, Cronkite struck him where it truly mattered — his integrity.
In the end, Kennedy relented, “Let it run!”
If there is a signature theme in the career of Walter Cronkite, it is that viewers couldn’t guess his politics from his reporting. Although today we would call him a “progressive”, throughout his career he preached a catechism that a journalist’s primary duty was to get the facts.
“I am a news presenter, a news broadcaster, an anchorman, a managing editor not a commentator or analyst,” he said in an interview with The Christian Science Monitor in 1973. “I feel no compulsion to be a pundit.”
Second Home
On March 6, 1981, Walter Cronkite bid farewell in his role as anchor of the “CBS Evening News,” with his iconic closing statement, “And that’s the way it is.” Beyond being a trademark ending, those carefully chosen words encapsulated the essence of his newscast — as he put it, “hold up the mirror — to tell and show the public what has happened.”
For a man who was notoriously lacking in personal vanity, Cronkite had a profound desire to make the news look into the mirror. He always felt that untouched reporting, presented with objectivity and steering clear of advocacy, was the right look. This dedication earned him the title of the most trusted man in America.
The recognition is not a branding slogan but traced back to a survey of 8,780 respondents to a 1972 Oliver Quayle poll, which sought to assess and compare public trust in leading U.S. politicians of the time. In the survey, Cronkite was pitted against notable figures such as pre-Watergate Richard Nixon (before Watergate unfolded on June 17 of that year), Hubert Humphrey, Edmund S. Muskie, George McGovern, Edward Kennedy, and Spiro T. Agnew (before his resignation in 1973). The results revealed that Cronkite topped the poll with a remarkable “trust index” score of 73 percent, while Muskie secured the third position with 61 percent. CBS That was enough for the network to brand its helmsman “the most trusted man in America.”
But he was more than that. In fact, in a many-headed questionnaire, according to his PBS biography, he beat the president and vice-president of the United States, the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives, the Democratic candidate for the presidency (Senator George McGovern), and all other journalists. And this accolade came at the height of the turbulent 1960s and 1970s. In those years of anger and division, Americans simply believed that Walter Cronkite would not knowingly deceive them.
Cronkite’s ability to earn the trust of the American public was a testament to his commitment to presenting the news with objectivity, but it also helped that he had a paternal demeanor and professional image resonated with viewers, while his deliberate and measured delivery commanded attention. With unwavering standards for accuracy and objectivity, Cronkite ensured that his team of writers and producers understood the expectations of perfectionism, avoiding personal bias or activism in their work.
After he assumed the anchor desk for CBS in 1962, Cronkite’s ratings surpassed even the legendary Huntley-Brinkley team of NBC by 1967. He maintained his position as the top-rated news anchor until his retirement in 1981. His broadcasts reached an estimated 27–29 million viewers every night, accounting for approximately one-quarter of all adults in a population of just over 200 million at the time. To put it in perspective, this surpasses the combined audiences of the current evening news broadcasts of CBS, NBC, and ABC, considering the nation’s population has now exceeded 320 million.
If Walter Cronkite’s final chapter ended the moment he retired, most of us would say that the boy from Kansas City lived up to his contract that life should leave a deep impression on the world we live in. But Cronkite wasn’t most of us.
He was about to begin a new chapter in a new place as far from the plains of Kansas as he could find.
When Senator and former astronaut John Glenn returned to space aboard the shuttle Discovery in 1998, after an impressive 36-year hiatus, Walter Cronkite gave his own remarkable encore performance as he covered the momentous event for CNN.
He followed that feat up with 60 compelling documentaries, leaving an indelible mark on the scope of his journalism career. One time he lent his distinctive voice to a beloved PBS cartoon series “Liberty’s Kids,” bringing Benjamin Franklin to life.
Cronkite’s lifetime contributions were duly recognized, earning him numerous Emmy Awards, a Peabody Award, and the esteemed Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1981. That wasn’t long after he landed on Martha’s Vineyard where the retired news anchorman embarked on a new chapter — one that would bring him closer to the water and something else. Cronkite acquired a Sparkman & Stephens Sunward 48, a 56’ sailboat, which he affectionately named the Wyntje (pronounced win-tee). The name may have been a clue.
Martha’s Vineyard was more than a second home for the avuncular newscaster. It wielded a transformative effect, propelling Cronkite to skillfully blend his diverse influences: the virtues instilled in him as a Kansas Boy Scout, the street smarts honed during his time in New York, and the wisdom of a seasoned Vineyard old salt who sought solace in a waterside abode, where his boat rested at the dock.
As Peter Simon attested, Cronkite remained grounded throughout his life, finding solace in the company of the waitstaff in the kitchen during summer cocktail parties while influential moguls talked among themselves and of themselves. The Vineyard became the catalyst for achieving a delicate balance, allowing him to embrace his renowned celebrity while savoring moments of tranquility with feet up on the deck. It molded Cronkite into a man driven to conquer the waves with the same passion he had exhibited while conquering the airwaves.
The new spirit turned out to be an old soul. Reminiscent of the original Cronkite who sailed to the new world — he was another Dutchman yearning for the companionship of the sea and a woman to love. In fact, he christened his boat the “Wyntje,” paying homage to the first woman who married his ancient Dutch relative in the New World in 1642.
As history seemed poised to repeat itself, rumors began to circulate following the passing of Cronkite’s wife, Betsy, in 2005. Whispers of a striking blonde, radiating a diva-like presence, swirled around, indicating a connection that appeared destined to align with the nautical chart of a highly sought-after bachelor in the prime time of his life.
New First Mate
Walter and Betsy Cronkite (photo: Peter Simon)
Betsy Cronkite happened to die ironically and perhaps fortuitously within six months of Joanna Simon’s husband. Cronkite was adrift as a retired celebrity with nothing but his briar pipe to keep him warm. As the two couples lived in the same building in New York, a tete a tete was inevitable and rumors on the Vineyard began to circulate. Whispers of a striking blonde, radiating a diva-like presence, swirled around, indicating a connection that appeared destined, aligning with the nautical chart of a highly sought-after bachelor whose life had been associated with prime time now in the prime of his life.
So it came as no surprise, as the Vineyard Gazette noted, “In his later years, he found companionship with former opera singer Joanna Simon, sister of Carly Simon and Peter Simon, a renowned photographer.” In fact, it was at Betsy Cronkite’s funeral that Cronkite’s former assistant asked Joanna Simon to check in on the grieving widower, according to her brother Peter. The next day, she called and invited him to get together for dinner or a movie.
Cronkite’s response was, “How about right now?”
It didn’t hurt that Joanna was incredibly talented, literally a diva in her own right, nor that the Simon family was considered royalty on the Vineyard royalty.
It didn’t take long for romance to develop.
“They were an adorable couple,” Peter Simon said. “To see them together, it was so moving. They were so in love with each other.”
Apparently, their relationship was not something either chose to broadcast, and that’s the Vineyard for you — privacy is as well-maintained as the gray shingle mansions that dot the coastline. Four four happy, joyful years, their entanglement drew the curiosity of the media and the public as he and Joanna grew closer and closer until he died in 2009.
Nothing caps a great career like a great life. For Walter Cronkite, it meant every day ahead was like a voyage into a new world like the old Dutchman himself.
Soul Sisters
Joanna Simon was Peter’s sister, a smoky-voiced award winning mezzo-soprano with easy grace and glamorous good looks that made her a popular guest on “The Tonight Show.” Her Vineyard neighbor was Walter Cronkite. After his wife Betsy passed away at age 89 in 2005, he and Joanna, who had also lost her husband, grew closer. They stayed together for four years until he died in 2009, and that entanglement drew us into a world the brought together the stuff of a modern crime story: fame, fortune, and a soupçon of family rancor tinged with academic hypocrisy.
Joanna and her two sisters were blessed with musical talent; singer Carly Simon (and James Taylor’s ex-wife) and Lucy Simon, a well-known composer. Their award-winning brother Peter rounded out a family lineage that included Richard Simon, their father and co-founder of Simon & Schuster, and their mother, Andrea, a beacon of social justice and a champion of the oppressed.
The sisters grew up singing and playing music and remained close as adults, avoiding the petty jealousies that often ensnare siblings engaged in similar careers. “When Lucy was 16, I envied her hourglass figure,” Joanna Simon told The Toronto Star in 1985. “When Carly became successful, I envied her first $200,000 check. But those feelings lasted 20 minutes, and I didn’t dwell on them. I knew it was given that very few achieved that kind of success in the operatic world. I never expected it, so I wasn’t disappointed.”
Joanna was a class act.
Walking around the Vineyard one summer, I came across Peter Simon’s shop and struck up a conversation about Cronkite. That was when Peter Simon showed me his collection of 32 Cronkite photos. I bought the lot.
And then there were those photographs. Oh, those photographs. At the helm of his prized sailboat, Cronkite, on the tennis court and with his arms around the comely Joanna, the essence of a celebrity-filled life. When Peter sold me his collection of Cronkite photos, I knew they would be perfect for exhibiting at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, where I had just been appointed a professor.
The images brought together the fabulous story of Joanna Simon and Walter Cronkite and their glorious relationship. A slight sense of pride washed over me as I thought about sharing them with journalism students who had never had the chance to meet the school’s namesake.
Thank you to Peter Simon and his photographs. Along with Walter Cronkite and his sister Joanna Simon, he never, never, never gave up.
Taking It Personally
“What happens in the Vineyard stays in the Vineyard.”
Such was Cronkite’s enduring impact that Arizona State University honored him by naming its esteemed journalism school after him. When I joined the faculty, I delved into researching the essence of the man beyond his celebrity status. I sought to uncover the driving forces behind his success and understand what shaped him as a media heavyweight of the highest caliber. Using the photo library of Peter Simon’s, I began work on an article.
In the world of academia, you might think personal and professional didn’t mix, but you would be naive, like me. On my very first day, I was summoned to the Dean’s office where I was met with a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. The Dean had heard about my plan to use Peter Simon’s photos of Cronkite. The politics were complicated, he intoned.
Simon’s photos might insult the Cronkite family not because he was Carly Simon’s brother who was famous for reasons other than marrying James Taylor, but that he was Joanna Simon’s sister, Walter Cronkite’s lover. That made Joanna persona non grata among the Cronkite clan. I needed a scorecard to keep track of the players. I thought I heard a spiraling sound, which was my career at the moment. It turned out the relationship between Walter and Joanna was tolerable as long as Cronkite was alive, but after he was gone, as the dean alluded, it turned a bit like old wine, and the Cronkite children weren’t too happy about seeing anything with Simon’s name on it.
According to multiple media reports, Joanna had been a constant companion to Walter Cronkite during the last four years of his life. They spent summers together in Martha’s Vineyard and enjoyed yachting off the East Coast. However, when Cronkite passed away in 2009, he did not leave her any part of his inheritance.
His will, filed in Manhattan Surrogate’s Court, revealed that he divided his estate among his three children and two aides at CBS, while also bequeathing mementos from his esteemed journalism career to his alma mater, the University of Texas.
It is worth noting that Cronkite’s will was written in August 2005, before he and Simon began their relationship. His daughter, Nancy Cronkite, along with his other children, Chip and Kathy, received the majority of his fortune, which amounted to many millions. Additionally, Cronkite allocated a sum of as much as $100,000 to his former assistants, including Marlene Adler, who served as his chief of staff at CBS. Adler expressed gratitude for Cronkite’s generosity, “We were both surprised and not so surprised, and delighted, of course,” Adler said. “He was a generous, thoughtful man.”
But nothing for Joanna Simon who cared for him during his last four years? The same woman who described Cronkite as “The most remarkable man who ever lived and the love of my life.” She also spoke glowingly of their sailing trips to Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket and Newport, RI.
When questioned, Nancy Cronkite explained that her father had been “very generous” to Joanna Simon while he was alive but had never intended to include her in his will. She emphasized that his decision was influenced by his respect for her mother, Betsy, stating that he did not want to marry Joanna or share his estate with her. Nancy also revealed that her father had been devastated by her mother’s death in 2005, and it had a profound impact on his emotional well-being and physical health.
And that’s the way it is, Joanna.
The message from the dean was clear; Peter Simon photos were out. I argued that the love entanglement was ancient history and the photos were the record of an important part of his life. It was not a winning theory, apparently.
There I was caught in the middle of a nasty love triangle, pushing a plan that would embarrass my dean and putting a shadow over my one-day-old professorship. I had brought two worlds together, the sacred if gossipy terroir of Martha’s Vineyard and the hallowed halls of academe, and they didn’t care much for one another. I was at sixes and sevens. Then, I found a life preserver.
Aaron Brown, a former award-winning CNN anchor and colleague on the faculty, stopped by and asked if I could guest lecture his class about running Forbes Magazine. Call it a lightbulb moment. The talk went over with enthusiasm, it was the kind of stuff future journalists wanted to hear. With my Cronkite story in purgatory, I thought about taking the lives of eminently successful people and taking a different approach to what made them great.
Brown suggested inviting a few of my eminent contacts to campus to give a master class on success.
You know what the conductor says? It’s your violin, Maestro.
PS I wrote Warren Buffett.
PS I met Cronkite in the 90s when we both attended Malcolm Forbes’s birthday party in Morocco thrown by King Hassan II. The brief encounter told me something about the man. He talked to me about sailing for an hour — I was neither a sailor not anyone he ever needed to spend a moment with — until his wife Betsy pulled him aside and said the Hassan II, the King of Morocco, wanted to see him. She added, “professional courtesy, I’m sure.”
