KWF’s Third Man on Stage
By Charles Gibson ’74
Charles Gibson moderates the second debate, October 8, 2004, between George W. Bush and Senator John Kerry.
I remember the date: August 11th. The call came when I was in Seward, Alaska, with my family, about to begin a week’s cruise along the Alaskan coast. Seward is in the middle of the proverbial ‘nowhere.’ As I came aboard, a purser asked me to call my office.
“They want you to host the second debate,” said my assistant. It was a bit surreal. American politics seemed millions of miles away, and since we were about to put to sea, I had to make a snap decision. We’d be out of cell phone range for three or four days. The ship-to-shore phone was $15.99 a minute, and I mentally calculated what a 20-minute call might cost. Not going to do that. So while I could still use the cell, I called the head of the Commission on Presidential Debates and left a voicemail. “Sure,” I said. “If both sides will take me, I’d love to do it.”
To this day I have no idea who ‘they’ are who decided on me. People continue to ask, “Why did they pick you?” I sense a note of incredulity in their voice. But pick me they did. I had two months to prepare.
The "Third Man" arrives on stage.
But prepare what?
The debate was to be a “town meeting”—residents of St. Louis would ask the questions; I would essentially be a passive participant. So for weeks people were saying, “You must be swamped with preparations.” Well, I wasn’t. Problem is: Not doing anything is more stress-producing than actually doing something.
Next the two campaigns negotiated a 32-page document that the moderators were supposed to sign. The agreement was a bit absurd. More than 50 lines were devoted to coin flips! How can you write 50 lines on coin flips? “Heads.” “Tails.” That’s about it. But never underestimate lawyers.
Jim Lehrer, Gwen Ifill, Bob Schieffer and I refused to sign anything. We said we would do our best to fulfill whatever charge was given us by the Commission on Presidential Debates. We worked for them. But we would not sign anything that represented a contract between us, as independent journalists, and the campaigns. The issue quickly passed. The campaigns didn’t pursue it. The debates were on.
The issue that concerned me most was the questions. Looking back at tapes of the town meetings of 1996 and 2000, I felt the questions were too general. “What are you going to do for teachers?” “How might you save the family farm?” The questions invited canned speeches. So I thought it might be better to ask each of the 140 audience participants to submit two questions—one for each candidate—that would be “short, direct, and challenging.” That, I thought, would produce greater specificity.
They did me proud. Of the 280 submitted questions, probably 60 would have been usable. I knew I could get only 16 to 18 in the 90-minute debate. In the end, by limiting the one-minute extension of remarks, I got time for 18. I physically had the questions in hand at noon on debate day. As it turned out, six hours was plenty of time for sifting the questions, making the choices and getting out on stage.
The one thing I kept in mind is that in boxing, nobody cares about the referee. He is the proverbial ‘third man in the ring.’ He’s only noticed if he screws up.I was nothing more than the third man on stage. I would only really be noticed if I screwed up.
So once I knew I had good questions, the only thing left was to keep out of the way.
As I walked out on to the debate set, the last three words I said to myself were “sublimate, sublimate, sublimate.”
In the end, all I really had to do was make the train run on time.
— Charles Gibson ’74 of ABC News is co-host of ABC’s “Good Morning America.”
