Let Us Now Praise Norman Lear

Yes, Norman was a TV legend and all that. But thanks to former CBS president Jim Rosenfield, who was a Salon board member when my partner Mike O'Donnell and I were running the feisty media startup, Norman also joined our board -- and became my Jewish uncle, the avuncular, wise, unflappable, funny man I went to for guidance in Los Angeles.

Once I went to Norman's Beverly Hills office for Salon advice -- we were always on the verge of bankruptcy or some other disaster because of our rebellious politics and because, well, we were a dotcom business. "Norman," I said, "I need your advice."

"Go to her," he said without skipping a beat, "drop to your knees, beg her to forgive you."

"No, Norman," I smiled, "not that kind of advice."

He always made time for Mike and me. He always called on his many friends and contacts in Hollywood to help us. He was tickled that he was involved in a left-wing media enterprise with the son of Lyle Talbot, whom he thought of as a Reagan-like Hollywood conservative. (I explained that actually my father had swung to the left from his Midwestern Republican roots, and denounced Reagan, with whom he served on the Screen Actors Guild board, when "Ronnie" became president.)

Norman invited Mike and me and our wives to his 80th birthday gala celebration at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. My wife Camille and I sat at a table with the ebullient David Hyde Pierce, Ed Begley Jr. and a saturnine and silent Barry Levinson, and were charmed by Alec Baldwin. (I know, I know.) Warren Beatty went swanning by our table wearing actors' make-up. Yes, Hollywood is weird. But it was a fun night. Predictably, Norman turned it into a political event.

Salon's key investor John Warnock of Adobe just died. Now Norman. It's a passing of the guard who cared about progressive, fearless journalism. My crowd is next. Has the torch been passed?

Norman Lear