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>> i don't know where he was going, so i don't know what i'm saying either. it's some event when you have to have someone like me speak at your memorial service. walter was such a good friend. i can't get over it. we met in london when we were both covering the air force. walters was with the united press, and i was with the army newspaper, "the stars and stripes." we printed the paper in london,

and he sent his stories back. and they would tell us when there was going to be a raid, if you can believe that of the army. these days you're lucky if they'll tell you after they've had a raid. but walter and i and, oh, three or four other reporters would get on the train and go out to bedford, usually. bedford was the town in england that had five or six air force bases around it, and we would go and then we would split up and we'd each go to a base that we liked, and we'd write our stories. and then we'd go back to the headquarters of the air force, and they had it set up so that we could write and send our stories from there. and that's when i got to know walter cronkite, got to know

him well. you get to know someone pretty well in a war. i just -- i just feel so terrible about walter's death that i can hardly say anything. he's been as much a good friend over the years. please excuse me. thank you. >> pardon me. it's hard to follow an act like cronkite has been so much about him the last week, don't know what else there is to say about him. i would like to point out a

couple of things. he had this reputation for being cool and calm and collected no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the occasion. but that doesn't do him any justice. he was really ferocious at times, and i'm reminded in the 1968 democratic national convention when some security agents sufficiented up dan rather on the floor, walter lost his cool on the air, shouted about thuggery on the floor of the convention, felt embarrassed and ashamed that he had lost his cool that way, but there was, next day in the anchor booth, to our shock, in bursts mayor daley, mad as could be about what had happened the night before, connected me out of my seat, sat down, and walter interviewed him about the events of the night before. from walter's pointed of view, it wasn't one of the low points in his life because he felt he wasn't forceful enough with mayor daley and hadn't defended

the troops and the media and the rules of coverage. then in the fall of 1969, spiro ago new, then vice president, delivered his famous attack on the media, the natering nabobs of negativity, he called reporters, and part of an eastern establishment elite who were neither elect nor selected -- and we found out that that was the initial attack on the media by the nixon people. walter was furious about that on the grounds that if the media was not going to defend itself, who would? he grabbed hewitt at the time, and the two flew out to st. joseph, missouri, walter's birth place, and had a town meeting with citizens of st. joseph, letting the citizens explore the whole idea of whether we were nattering

nabobs the negativity or not. and it caused quite a stir. cbs broadcast that town meeting that night, and it was -- it was the event that kind of signaled cbs news out as a target by the nixon white house. but i don't want to get bogged down in all that serious stuff. there were other aspects of walter that would drive anybody crazy. he had this bizarre idea once that he would ad lib the newscast without a script, that he would just read in all day long and then get up there and recite the stories that we thought were important enough to report. needless to say, the director especially was crazed at this idea. there were so many contact points, an evening newscast is the most structured event on television or any sort of media. well, we tried it.

and walter insisted that when it came time to rome a piece of film, he would brush his nose, and that would be the cue -- i kid you not. this really happened. that would be the cue to the director to roll the projector. now, we're talking about film, not videotape. and in those days it took seven seconds for the projector to get up to broadcast speed. so you had to be really, really tense and tender about this, and we never made it, ok? it was utter chaos. either walter ran over the film or the film just didn't come up, and nobody knew what was going on, especially any sort of other -- it lasted for two days, and then we went back to conventional script. and then there was a time where he forgot his name p. he said, this is -- and there was a blank.

and blank. blank, blank, blank. finally the control room rescued him by taking it away and going somewhere else. we never did figure out -- he never figured out what had happened. he also had a horrible problem with the second month of the year. he could never pronounce it right, and we'd get all sorts of complaints. this is before blogs and the internet, either by telephone or mail about his pronunciation of the second month of the year. it got to the point where we would rehearse him for about the last week in january about how you said it. and it worked for a day or two, and then there was a relapse, and we went back to -- it was just -- the other thing he want to talk about is something called the magic number. if you were anywhere around our newsroom at the time, you'd hear people shouting the last half-hour certainly about something called the magic

number. it was a piece of sourcery that was events -- i can't claim credit for it -- because walter was very diligent, very precise, he thought, about timing things. it had to do with walter's time on the air in a 22-minute newscast. and he would time each piece of his copy down to the precise second, except on air it never matched. and, of course, it drove everybody crazy. so what happened is somebody with a more mathematical mind than i have, calculated how much slippage there was, and so we would tell walter -- we'd give walter a number that was less than what it actually was, and he would -- he would stick to that number, and, of course, on air he would expand to what we called the magic number. so we cheated every day whether he knew this or not, i don't

know. we never had the guts to talk to him about it. plus we didn't want to open up that whole can of worms, but we lived with that for years. but he was a lot of fun off camera. you've heard this elsewhere. he played the clarinet badly, good enough to get on his high school band. and then in recent years, of course, his pal, mickey hart of the grateful dead, bought him a set of drums, which just absolutely enthralled him. and oh, several weeks before the end, jimmy buffett flew his plane, landed on the east river right next to walter's riverside apartment, came upstairs, and as kate told me, opened up this beautiful ukulele case, took out an instrument she thought was the most beautiful thing in the world, and serenaded walter with a little ukulele recital.

he was always a wire service reporter in his heart. and he always lived by the wire service adage, which i don't think anybody has anything to do with it, get it first, but get it right. and one of his first jobs about getting it right, one of his first jobs was at the houston press, where he was a copy boy. today get the houston bank clearing number every day, and it was published, but not on the front page of the "houston press" in a little box, and it was a multimillion dollar number. and one day he got the cents wrong. e put down 27 cents when it shouldn't have been 17 cents, at the end of a $3 million -- well, he got called up and really, really beaten up by the

editor t. the way he described, it he went out afterwards, and awful his senior buddies at the nearby bar were saying, hey, you better get out of town, you know, up better be careful. he discovered that that little number was the key to the gambling numbers game in houston. and the last five digits of the clearing number was the winning number, and here he put down 27 cents instead of 17 cents, and his life was in danger. but he always used that as an example of the importance of accuracy in the most terrific detail. at one contract negotiation, and then i'll end, one contract negotiation he shocked the people, the suits at cbs, so to speak, by saying he dent want a raise, but he wanted three months off.

he wanted a new contract that paid him the same, but for nine months of work. well, they were just jolted to say the least because of a fear of evaporating ratings if he was gone for three months. and the editor at the time, dearly departed, beloved john merriman, came up with what seemed like a reasonable solution. he said walter should name his both assignment, and over night during the three-month hiatus, we would say he was on assignment. walter never thought that was funny. and the last thing i'd say is, on the day he left cbs news and became a cbs special correspondent, which moved him out of the news area, he accepted an invitation to something called bohemian grove, which was a camp in

northern california for grown-up men, establishment men, bankers, politicians, serious scholars, who went -- and it was an off the record situation, and they acted like teenage boys, peing on trees and all that sort of stuff. and walter left the news in march of 1981, and my god, the following week, he announced he was going to bohemian grove that simple we discovered he'd been invited for years previous, but felt it was not acceptable gven his role in news to go. but once he felt free of the news, he was out there and we want there every year. of course, we don't know what happened, but acted like a teenager. and he became a member of the cbs board, of course, and was on there for some years, and he once said to me, boy, you know, you don't know how many ways there are to say "earnings per share."

we sit there for hours, and we discuss earnings per share. it's just remarkable to me. and every time i bring up a question about television, nobody wants to talk to me about it. and that's a little bit of the walter i knew. >> i didn't work with walter. i was his friend for a long time. like everyone that knew walter, i was always asked, what's he really like? and i would answer, he's just the way you hope he is.

he was always, i thought, the same guy that most of america guessed he was. he was physically brave, and he wasn't afraid to show his emotions. he's generous, fun loving, a courtly gentleman, and good company wherever we were. to steal a line from melville, he was my harvard and my yale. i learned to think and appreciate and observe the world the way walter did. i even learned how to handle my own very, very small celebrity watching him enjoy with good humor, a smile, and patience his slack-jawed admirers. our happy friendship began years ago. we were hosting a financed raiser at my home down on the

chesapeake bay. walter and betsy were the celebrity couple. it was a rather dull affair, actually. mrs. cronkite seemed content. she was whistling a little ditty to herself. seemingly. of course, all of us that know betsy's little whistle, and the nuclear submarine might herald the same concern. betsy was done fundraising and ready to go down to the old annapolis waterfront to visit a small 100-year-old saloon that i just happened to own. we had great fun that night and spent the next day on the water. for the first day of a lifetime of sailing together. visits to each other's homes, laughter, and lots of adventures. walter and i sailed our boats

side by side or shared the same deck for the next 35 or so years. we had the best seats in the house for the latest broadway shows and did new york. and let me tell you, with cronkite, that was quite a ride. the day would eventually come to an end. walter stuffed 25 hours into the 24-hour day. and late at night, the call would come up the stairwell in the old brownstone up in new york, good night, old boy. good night, walter. thanks for a great night. we flew to the country house on the vineyard, watched the sun set. we dined with presidents and explored the caribbean by sail. the family folded me into their life, and i became a trusted and comfortable member. by the way, sailing with walter

was not for the faint of heart. walter loved the sea. and when more timid stayed ashore, we left our secure mooring and set sail, usually a lot of sail. wind, sea conditions, bah. hoist all soil, point her seward, and away we would go. going full tint, lee rail under, spray flying port and starboard, the brave crew hanging on for dear life, walter hunched over the helm, would catch my eye, grin, and over the racket of the wind, hollered, sensational! standing at the wheel of my

beautiful old bald eagle, tucked in close to his boat, reading over and over winty, edgartown, painted on her stern. comfortably or confidently, i should say, trailed walter into probably every cove and harbor in maine, in new england as well. walter knew them all and couldn't wait to share the beauty and perfection of a hidden cove and show them off as well to his chesapeake friend. after setting the anchor in another pine senate cove, grafting our boats together, and after our bodies recovered from the obligatory plunge in the always frigid maine water, the time would come for hot popcorn, a cold beer while we

rehashed the day's sail. and then dinner aboard his boat or mine with decent wine and never-ending fascinating conversation, whoops of laughter. after dinner, a pipe and a brandy on deck. one time the magnificent aurora borealis flashed across the night sky and seemed to last for hours. we were alert and awestruck. finally, softly, well, good night, old boy. that was sensational. good night, walter. it sure was. every fall walter would sail to the chesapeake. this became an annual boy's sail. eventually manned exclusively by ex-military pilots. they were tough, dependable

gentleman and loved to trade stories with the captain. problem was, there are too many captains. all of us captained our own boats. we were all either naval reserve captains, airline captains, or air force captains. captains from stem to stern of old winty. so we commissioned walter commodore, captain of all captains in nelson's day. and as you'd guess, walter had no problem adjusting. the rank became commonly used among his friends and family. in fact, when i got the call that walter lost his final battle, the message was, the commodore is gone. the commodore and i sailed through a wild storm on a race to bermuda one year, just the two us on deck while the storm sank the largest boat in the

fleet. we shouted our life's story to each other while we took turns at the helm, a lifetime friendship bonded that dark and stormy night. walter was more than a crusty old sailor. he had an antenna sensitive to friend's pain. he knew the words that restored the fun and chased the worry that made things good again. this is the kind of guy who could openly and without shame shed tears with a friend when his old yellow lab died. now, my brother, my teacher, my ship mate and pal, it's time for me to say good night, old boy, it's all been sensational.

i love you. and miss you so. fair winds and following seas forever. rest in peace, my dear old friend. >> well, i loved my dad. i loved him coming home for dinner. so we could talk about that night's program. i loved riding my bike to meet him in the summer when he drove home to the country house. i loved sailing with him,

trimming the sails while he navigated. he was goods at that, too. back in the days before satellite navigation, he would get us right there after hours in the dark fog. i admired my dad. he was just a reporter, he'd say. he just ended up reporting bigger and bigger stories. he was fast, too. i liked watching him swivel around and rewrite stories during commercial breaks. during the 1960's when the country sometimes felt it would revote to the 1860's, his reporter's instincts for fairness and accuracy, seemed to me to help americans on both sides of the political fence understand each other. he liked to quote thomas jefferson, a nation that expects to be ignorant and free expects what never can and never will be.

my folks had lived through the depression, the war and cold war before i was born, in the same year as sputnik. dad said he walked home from the hospital that morning along the east river, making plans for this new son of his, and i think most of those plans came true. thank you, dad. thanks for rushing to the side of the boat when the boom knocked me overboard. you stood there ready to jump in after me, and then you were glad you didn't have to. thanks for getting ready to take out my appendix yourself with a sharpened spoon on the plains of africa, two days' drive from a hospital. that time i was glad you didn't have to. thanks for being such fun to work with, as you and sandy and i went from one small production company to another in the 1990's. thanks for being such a good role model, doing your homework, being polite, saying

to mom as you passed her in the hall in the kitchen, shall we dance, and then taking her for a few turns around the room. i'm happy for my dad. i'm happy that he had so many interesting and varied friends over the years and that he'd bring them home. i'm happy that he finished his autobiography, "a reporter's life," before his health began to fail. i'm sorry i insulted him by saying i was surprised at how funny he was. he said i should have known how funny he was. i'm happy he had such caring doctors and nurses in his last few years. when we were young, my sisters and i came to sunday school here at st. bart's. four years ago we memorialized our mom here, and then we buried her. we'll be going out soon to put dad's ashes next to mom's.

>> in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit. amen. 2,000 years ago, a group of witnesses began to tell a story that proved to be the story about a man who was, as they say, one of the axial persons in human history, the world turned on his soul and his teaching. now, we are here today to commend to god one of his great witnesses. walter cronkite, a man, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend, a mentor

, and someone we would say in our new york religious terminology, a mensch, a full human being. 2,000 years ago, those first christian witnesses also began to write what they witnessed, and those accounts are the true context today in which we remember him. and through which we commend him to god. they give us the words that we need at least to begin this prayer and only begin. and to proclaim what we do in this sacred hour. we simply thank god for this good man. we really can go no further, because though there were witnesses at the resurrection, those who claimed to be witnesses, there were really no

reporters, and certainly no video. nevertheless, we claim that this is news, and good news. it is not journalism, because it is not disinterested. it is the word of witnesses whose only lives were changed and who, therefore, wanted to change the lives of others and to affect the course of the world and to do justice and to heel and to love. you may have noticed that there were two very powerful readings today walter's family drew on their own inclinations and knowledge of secret tour to pick them. the first was one from st. paul , his letter to the romans, part of his passionate wisdom. you read it closely, you will find that this is the wisdom of all the great living religions, and it was one of the first

claims of christianity that in some ways it was not going to be dmpt from what went before. it was going to pass on great wisdom. let love be genuine, paul said to the romans, hate what is leevel, hold fast what is good, love one another with mutual affection, outdo one another in showing honor. only people who believe that they are loved can show that kind of love. do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, contribute to the needs of the saints, show hospitality to strangers. these, again, are the hall marks today of true religion and are the things that, when we see them in others, great people and people of no name we know that we have seen the truth.

but all great witnesses and all great reporters know that truth begins with that last word that paul left with the roman, do not claim to be wiser than you are. do not claim to be wiser than you are. that means you have to dig for the truth and then you have to live the truth. trust is built on that kind of work. and then they drew on one of the great sailing stories in the bible. some friends of jesus were out on the sea of galley, a little lake, but subject to squalls, and there was a storm and he was asleep. he was the daredevil on the sea. and they didn't like that. but the lesson he ultimately taught them, he did what no sailor i know can do. he calmed the storm. but when he did, he shote them -- he showed them that it really is a way to live your

life if you can afford not to be so anxious, to be the least anxious person in the boat is a gift to everyone else. but we are anxious, generation after generation. we look at the events of the world. we look at the conditions of the day, and it makes us anxious, but occasionally someone comes along who says, i have dug, i have looked for the truth, i have witnessed it to you, and in the end, all will be well if we dig for the truth. it's not the story or even the ultimate truth that makes the difference in the end. it is, as paul said, our ability to show the truth with love. let love be genuine, hate what is evil, and do not claim to be wiser than you are. amen.

now will you stand, please? the assurance of eternal life given at baptism, let us proclaim our faith and say, i believe in god, the father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. i believe in jesus christ, his only son our lord. he was conceived by the power of the holy spirit and born of the virgin mary. he suffered under pontius pilot, was krause feud, died and was buried. he descended to the dead. on the third day he rose again. he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the father. he will come again to judge the living and the dead. i believe in the homey spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and

the life everlasting. amen. and now let us join in the words that jesus taught his disciples, our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. thy king come come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever, amen. in peace, let us pray to the lord. al matey god, who has knit together thine elect in one commoonion and fellowship in the mystical body of thy son, christ our lord, grant we be

each those to thy whole church in paradise and on earth, thy light and thy peace. >> amen. >> grant to us who are still in our pilgrimage and who walk as yet by faith that thy holy spirit may lead us in holiness and righteousness all our days. grant to all who mourn, assure confidence in thy fatherly care, that casting all their grief on thee, they may know the consolation of thy love. amen. give courage and faith to those who are bereaved, and especially to this family, that they may have strength to meet the days ahead in the comfort of a reasonable and holy hope, in the joyful expectation of eternal life with those they love.

help us, we pray, in the midst of things we cannot understand, to believe and trust in the communion the saints, the forgiveness of sins, and the resurrection to life everlasting. amen. grant us grace to entrust walter to thy never failing love. receive him into the arms of thy mercy and remember him according to the favor which thou bearest unto thy people. amen. and grant that increasing in knowledge and love of thee, he may go from strength to strength in the life of perfect service in thy heavenly kingdom. amen. please be seated.

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>> ♪ precious lord, take my hand lead me on, let me stand i am tired, i am weak, i am worn through the storm, through the night lead me on to the light take my hand precious lord lead me home ♪ when my way grows dear

precious lord, linger near when my life is almost gone at the river i stand guide my feet and hold my hand take my hand, lord

and lead me home ♪

>> i first met walter cronkite under a piano. it was a big party betty furness had given at her apartment on 86th street. i was producing the original "tonight show" with steve allen, and we didn't get through till 1:00 in the morning, so i was very late for the party. and i saw a man under this -- in the well of the piano there in a big pillow. all the seats were taken. it was jammed. and he waved at me to come and set on an empty pell owe next to him, which i did. and during our first meeting,

over a half a century ago, we learned that we both had boats and loved sailing. walter was a better sailor than i was, but i had my sailboat and the wind got to a half a knot or a knot, i'd always turn the engine on and get going. not walter. he would wait for the breeze. we sailed together from maine to the virgin islands. in the yachting language, walter cronkite would be called a within-off. he was absolutely an original. whatever place he was or in any room, it always was more fun. he was truly a life enhancer.

just a few days ago, with kathy cronkite and marlene adler at his bedside, i took his hand and whispered, "walter, let's go sailing." his eyes lit up, and he smiled. i recited a positive women only slight modification because i wanted to make it more personal . and kathy asked me to share it with you. so with apologies to john maysfield, i looked at walter and said, you must go out to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky, and all you ask of the tall ship and a star is nearby. and the wheels kick and the winds saw and the white sail shaking, and a gray mist on the sea's face and the gray dawn

breaking. you must go down to the sea again for the call of the running tide is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied. and all ask you for is a windy day with a white clouds flying. excuse me. i'm getting a little rough here with me. oh, yes, and the flung spray and the bloom spew and the seagulls crying. you must go down to the sea again to the vagrant gypsy's life and the whale's way. and the wind's like a wetted knife, and all you ask for is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover and a quiet sleep

and a sweet dream when the long trip is over. good sail to you, walter. slice the main brace. >> this next hymn is a family favorite. it is a hymn that expresses someone who knows and loves his own country, but is also a citizen of the world. i think you'll recognize the tune, "finlandia," the words are printed in the bulletin.

>> ♪ this is my song, oh god of all nations a song of peace for lands afar and mine this is my home the country where my heart is

here are my hopes my dreams, my holy shrine but other hearts in other lands are beating with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine my country's skies are bluer than the ocean and sunlight beams on clover leaf and pine

but other lands have sunlight too and clover and skies are everywhere as blue as mine o hear my song o god of all the nations a song of peace for their land and for mine ♪ ♪

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♪ >> now i invite you all to join in this final commendation. give rest, oh christ, to thy serve ant with thy saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting. thou only art immortal, the creator and maker of mankind, and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and unto earth shall we return. for so thou is or dayne when had thou createst me saying dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return. all we go down to the dust, yet

even at the grave we make our song, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. give rest, oh christ, to though servant with their saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting. now into thy hands, oh merciful savior, we commend thy servant, walter. acknowledge we humbly is he beach thee a sheep of their fold, a lamb of thy known flock, a sinner of thine own redeeming. receive him into the arms of thy mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. amen. life is short. and we do not have too much

time to gladen the hearts of those who travel the way with us. so be swift to love. may case to be kind. and may god's blessing, father, son, and holy spirit, be with you and remain with you always. amen. let us go forth in the name of christ. thanks be to god. >> ♪ when the saints go marching in lane line oh, when the saints go marching in

oh, lord i want to be in that number when the saints go marching in ♪ ♪ and when the lord how i want to be in that number when the revelation come and when the

oh, lord i want to be in that number when the . >> been a few moments, white house press secretary robert gibbs takes your questions about the first six months about the obama administration. in an hour we will look at the auto industry, health care, and the economy with