William S. Paley - As It Happened

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Copyright 1979 by William S. Paley

Foreword Copyright 2014 by Morley Safer

Originally published in 1979 by Doubleday.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

This Simon & Schuster ebook edition June 2014

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available

ISBN 978-1-4767-5294-5

I am deeply appreciative of the assistance a number of people have given in the preparation of this book.

John McDonald, an outstanding business historian, brought his notable talents to the original selection and organization of the material that forms the basis of the story. His integrity, his keen editorial insights and research guidance were of inestimable value.

Alvin Moscow, who aided in the preparation of the final manuscript, brought to that work not only his very special abilities as a biographer but also a professionalism that was both demanding and unstinting. His assistance was extremely important and appreciated.

Much of the information about CBS was researched and verified through reference to the companys fine historical files, which were compiled so efficiently under the direction of Margaret Kennedy. Her associate, Linda Savasta Mancia, was another tower of strength in the many months of work.

Geoffrey Colvin, Harriet Heck and Terry Ryan were of great help in exploring and verifying a tremendous volume of material, and Rosemary Barthold Grieco was both meticulous and expert in translating dictation into manuscript.

I have been privileged to be associated with several generations of outstanding people at CBS. To all of them, I express my appreciation for their help in the living of this story.

To the Memory of

BARBARA CUSHING PALEY

O ver the past fifteen years I have thought several times about setting down something about myself and my work at CBS. Now, here at last, I am sitting down to make a real try, tape recorder in hand, a pad of paper at my side, alone late at night in one of my favorite rooms which exudes a nice warmth. I decorated this room over the years, picking and choosing every piece of furniture, every work of art, and each of them has a special meaning and a story for me, like the painting La Voilette by Matisse. It is a comfortable rooma bedroom-sitting roomin which I can relax and think and reflect.

What kind of person am I? I ask myself that, as I begin this effort. The answer is not simple. My life spans the century and, as I see it, I should do two things: I must narrate the more significant events in which I was a participant, especially those which influenced our world as we now know it, and I must reveal, if I can, something of myself and my world.

I wonder if I can put enough of myself in it. Am I reflective enough or personal enough? I am not a very demonstrative person. I am not good at flattering people or even complimenting them. I have worked for years with people at CBS whose skills I have admired and who have not had from me the kind of acknowledgment they deserve or would like to get. I like to believe, however, that they understand me and know how I feel about them.

Of course, I like praise myself, even flattery, and certainly I like to read a good notice when it appears, but I feel somewhat embarrassed when it is presented to me directly in person. I tend to brush it off and try to change the subject. As for unflattering or critical comments which sometimes come my way, I have an urge to reply, to correct misrepresentation, to set matters straightwhich of course means putting things more in my favor. Some of that is certain to find its place here.

I dont think I am a very easy person to know. Perhaps that is a strange thing to say at the beginning of a work like this because I hope to make myself known in this book. Yet it is my impression that although I have had a multitude of acquaintances in my life, many of whom call me friend and whom I call friend, I have had very few intimates. Apart from these few, I think I do not like the idea of depending on others. I dont feel safe. When I find myself becoming dependent on one particular person I start to worry about what would happen if he or she were no longer there, and about who could take his or her place. Of course, I am not self-sufficient and have to lean on many people. But I always keep my reserve.

In a sort of treaty with the reader, I have decided to declare here what I will tell and not tell. As a matter of taste I will not write about my intimate personal relations. That would either be unfair to others or beyond my capacity for expression. I will take up not only the successful aspects of my life and work, but also the qualified successes in some areas, the failures in others, the good memories and the regrets.

This is a new experience for me. Until this writing, the only time I have spoken up has been for the various organizations I have represented. Now I speak for myself.

I am sure that I may have unconsciously rationalized some events, especially painful ones, to make myself feel better about them, or to present myself in a better light. Still, I do want to try to be objective. After all, presenting myself is what I am doing here.

I have enjoyed extraordinary success in life, as much as I or any American could dream of, and I leave it to the reader to judge how well I used my opportunities.

I was a child of immigrants. They were not poor immigrants, as were so many who came from Eastern Europe and Russia in the later nineteenth century; my family was among the fortunate ones with a stake to invest in the new world. My grandfather, Isaac Paley, was well heeled enough upon his arrival in Chicago in 1888 to entertain the aristocratic notion of enjoying the freedom of the United States without actually working. His vision of life was acquired from observing the gentry of the old world, or perhaps from reading nineteenth-century Russian novels. Things did not turn out as he intended, but I cannot help wondering whether something of my grandfathers feeling for the value of leisure and luxury did not brush off on me.

Grandfather Isaac was a tall, handsome man who wore a Vandyke beard and carried himself like a patriarch. As I remember him, he would sit next to a samovar, drinking tea and chatting with friends all day long. They did most of the talking; he did most of the listening. He had a presence that I think caused many to hold him in awe.