Lifestyle
Reflections on James Baldwin's magnificent life from those who knew him
American writer James Baldwin photographed on January 20, 1986.
Julio Donoso/Sygma via Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Julio Donoso/Sygma via Getty Images
James Baldwin was born 100 years ago, on Aug. 2, 1924, in Harlem Hospital. He wrote in 1955, “I love America more than any other country in this world and exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” Baldwin died on Dec. 1 at the age of 63 at his home in the south of France. NPR asked four people for their reflections on the writer.
Eleanor Traylor, scholar: “There was splendor before me.”
Eleanor Traylor takes a break in the comfort of her three-story brownstone in Washington, D.C. She is a literary critic, a scholar and retired chair of English at Howard University. She has written before about Baldwin in academic journals. Her home reflects a lifetime of collecting books, art and friends. Traylor will contribute to a new book about Baldwin due later this year.
I hope that since I met him, I’ve been like him, in any way that I could be, you know, small or large.
She first met the him in the late 1970s. Traylor was visiting his sisters, Paula and Gloria, at 137 W. 71st St. on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, in an apartment building Baldwin bought for his family.
Dr. Eleanor Traylor at her home in Washington, D.C. Traylor is a retired professor at Howard University and was friends with literary giants including James Baldwin.
Ben De La Cruz/NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Ben De La Cruz/NPR
“There was a knock at the door.”
Traylor answered and found herself face to face with James Baldwin.
“There was splendor before me,” she says. “You know, James Baldwin was not very tall, but he was tremendous looking,” she laughs.
“There was this gleaming white shirt, these eyes, who could rescue you, but who could rain and sunshine at the same time. This wonderful smile. And I just burst into tears. I just sobbed.“
Baldwin did not miss a beat, she says. “He took me up in his arms and he said to me, chuckling, ‘Now what have I done to deserve all this?’ Just magnificent,” Traylor says.
James Baldwin was not very tall, but he was tremendous looking.
Their friendship only grew from there. They would catch up at house parties and other gatherings where Baldwin showed up on his commutes from France.
Traylor retells Baldwin’s story about how his first novel got its title. Trekking the Swiss Alps, where he finished the manuscript, Baldwin took a death-defying leap above a gorge, a shortcut home before complete nightfall. She says he jumped and made it across, trembling. He said a sound came to him. And the sound was that song, “Go Tell It on the Mountain.“
Dr. Eleanor Traylor at her home in Washington, D.C. Traylor is a retired professor at Howart University and was friends with literary giants including James Baldwin.
Ben De La Cruz/NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Ben De La Cruz/NPR
Baldwin’s family calls her Aunt Eleanor. They trusted her to arrange the funeral at Cathedral Church of the St. John the Divine in New York City. The two-hour homegoing opened with African drummers and ended with James Baldwin singing the gospel hymn “Precious Lord.”
Today, she still misses her friend. Maya Angelou, Amiri Baraka and Toni Morrison all spoke at his funeral.
“Toni Morrison talked of him as the language that we inherited,” she says. “James Baldwin was the mentor of my generation.”
Baldwin was an inspiration to Morrison and many other writers, Traylor says. “His influence is incalculable.”
Eleanor Traylor wrote in PEN America that Baldwin’s message throughout his books is that the only safety is to dare to love. “He didn’t talk of a utopia, a perfect world,” she tells NPR. “He just said, if you love, you will create the kind of world you wish to live in.”
Cicely Tyson, James Baldwin, guest and singer Harry Belafonte attend To Be Young, Gifted And Black Gala on January 2, 1969 at the Cherry Lane Theater in New York City.
Ron Galella/Ron Galella, Ltd./Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Ron Galella/Ron Galella, Ltd./Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images
“He was the kind of person you wanted to emulate,” she says on a rainy afternoon. “I always had him in my mind, in my soul. I hope that since I met him, I’ve been like him, in any way that I could be, you know, small or large.”
Traylor’s eyes well up.
“I’m talking about whatever you hold to be delicious, whatever you hold to be precious,” she says. “There is such a thing as courage. There is such a thing as lovability. There is such a thing as honesty. There is such a thing as genius. All those things are for me,” she pauses, then whispers, ”James Baldwin.”
Richard Goldstein, journalist: “Go where your blood beats.
Richard Goldstein recalls the situation, more than 40 years ago, when James Baldwin did a rare kind of interview with The Village Voice.
“I had heard that he was coming to New York to see his brother.” Goldstein says.” I thought, ‘He’s never actually addressed the question of sexuality, as far as I knew, even though he was a pioneering, openly gay writer.’”
Richard Goldstein appears in a portrait taken in his home on January 31, 2017 in New York City.
Al Pereira/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Al Pereira/Getty Images
Goldstein is a former Village Voice executive editor. “I was putting together the annual queer life issue of the paper, which I edited for about 25 years.”
“Baldwin was an immensely prophetic figure, always, in the lives of queer people,” Goldstein says.
He called himself a witness to the gay community, not a member.
Baldwin’s novel Giovanni’s Room was controversial and influential with its publication in the 1950s. “If I hadn’t written that book,” he told Goldstein, “I would have probably had to stop writing altogether.” For Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room was an exploration of what happens when you fail to love someone.
The AIDS crisis and the 15th anniversary of the Stonewall gay rights uprising were the backdrop for their conversations. They talked over several afternoons in Greenwich Village, at some places Baldwin had frequented during his youth.
“One of his favorites was the Café Riviera, which is almost across the street from the Stonewall (Inn).”
James Baldwin was openly homosexual, but also very private about it. Baldwin did not refer to himself as gay. “He came up before there was a strong sense of that community,” Goldstein says.
Identity for Baldwin was complicated. “It was both public and that it was political and private, and that it was personal. This was an era when feminists were also discovering that the personal is political. And I think he was aware of all of that.”
James Baldwin smiles while addressing the crowd from the speaker’s platform, after participating in the march from Selma to Montgomery in support of voting rights, Alabama, March 1965.
Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Archive Photos/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Archive Photos/Getty Images
“He called himself a witness to the gay community, not a member, but a witness. And I think that distinction really describes his position.”
Baldwin’s interview led the June 26, 1984, issue, “The Future of Gay Life.” Goldstein asked his advice to someone coming out. Baldwin didn’t know the term, but once Goldstein explained, he thought one day it would be unnecessary.
“Oh, I am working toward a New Jerusalem, “ Baldwin told Goldstein. “I won’t live to see it, but I do believe in it. I think we’re going to be better than we are.”
“Best advice I ever got,” Baldwin continued, ”was an old friend of mine, a Black friend, who said you have to go the way your blood beats. If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all. That’s the only advice you can give anybody. And it’s not advice, it’s an observation.”
Goldstein says the two men shared their anxieties about the world, discussing sin, anger and rage.
“To me, that was the most memorable part of the interview,” Goldstein says. “Hearing him relate his own life to my own anxieties.”
American author and playwright James Baldwin as he sits backstage at the American National Theater and Academy Playhouse in New York, New York, April 1964. He was there to attend the opening of his play ‘Blues for Mr Charlie.’
Robert Elfstrom/Archive Photos/Villon Films/Gety Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Robert Elfstrom/Archive Photos/Villon Films/Gety Images
“He really influenced my gay politics. And one of the things that really was kind of a revelation to me was when I asked why it is that white gay men are so enraged and that Black gay men, in my experience, didn’t have quite the same degree of rage. And he answered that it’s because Black people, from the moment of their birth, are in danger, whereas white people, especially white males, grew up thinking that they were safe. And then, when they came out, they were deprived of that safety.”
Goldstein considers his interview with Baldwin the most meaningful of his career, and he says it guided his later thinking and writing as an activist for a certain kind of gay politics.
“I began to think, what would Baldwin say about this? What contradictions can I find in this book that he would have found?”
Suzan-Lori Parks, writer: “… To walk in his company”
Suzan-Lori Parks is the first Black woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for drama for her play Topdog-Underdog. She was a fourth-grader, singing songs and playing with words who announced one day to her parents, “I want to be a writer.”
“They gave me The Fire Next Time for Valentine’s Day,” she says, cracking up. “I’m sure it was their way of saying, You know, ‘So you want to be a writer? So, here’s a writer we admire quite a bit. You got to step up. Here you go.’ ”
Suzan-Lori Parks attends 76th Annual Tony Awards – Arrivals on June 11, 2023 at United Palace Theater in New York City.
Sean Zanni/Patrick McMullan via Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Sean Zanni/Patrick McMullan via Getty Images
Baldwin’s 1963 book bears witness to how racism ravaged America. It was a lot for an 11-year-old Black girl living in rural Vermont in 1973. More than his words, Baldwin’s face on the dust jacket was a potent message for her at the time.
“And I would look at it often,” she says. “You know, his beautiful eyes, his gaze, how handsome he was. And I thought, OK, this is what a writer looks like.”
For me, to see them interact with the great writer, to see them hang out with Mr. Baldwin gave me such joy.
A decade later, Parks was selected to take a creative writing class with Baldwin.
“Mr. Baldwin was in the room. I should have been cooler or more chill, but I was just thrilled that I had an opportunity. And so I was very performative in my delivery of my stories.”
She says she was very over the top in her readings.
“At the end of the semester, he said, “Miss Parks? Have you ever considered writing for the theater?’ in that beautiful voice he had.”
Parks feared her fiction disappointed Baldwin.
She knew and loved Greek plays, Shakespeare, Edward Albee. Ntokzake Shange, Adrienne Kennedy and Amiri Baraka were great writers, she says, but back then, she didn’t think of herself as a theater kid.
James Baldwin in Paris on April 27, 1972.
Sophie Bassouls/Sygma via Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Sophie Bassouls/Sygma via Getty Images
“I got over it quick,” she laughs. Parks began writing her first play on the bus back to her dorm. That same semester, Baldwin invited each student separately for dinner, a meal he would prepare. When it was her turn, she brought her parents.
“And the three of us had dinner with Mr. Baldwin. For me, to see them interact with the great writer, to see them hang out with Mr. Baldwin gave me such joy. I can still see it in my mind’s eye.”
She still calls him Mr. Baldwin, and points to her upbringing. Her mom is from Texas, and her dad was a career Army officer. “It’s a respectful thing, and it’s a sign of love. It’s a gentle bow of the head.”
“Every day, I really work to walk in his company,” Parks says. “And in gratitude for the ways he demonstrated how an artist can show up for the world.”
Karim Karefa-Smart, nephew : “… Continue to read your Baldwin.”
Karim Karefa-Smart says James Baldwin has always been a presence and a special part of the family, a public figure who lived in the south of France.
“We have a saying, ‘Uncle Jimmy is ours, but he also belongs to the world.’ ”
“Before everything, he was Uncle Jimmy.”
Karim Karefa-Smart poses for a portrait in Meridian Hill Park in Washington, D.C. on July 31, 2024.
Elizabeth Gillis/NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Elizabeth Gillis/NPR
Karefa-Smart grew up with siblings, cousins, his Aunt Paula and grandmother Emma Berdis Jones in the four-story apartment building that his Uncle Jimmy bought with profits from his books during the 1960s. Reportedly, Baldwin’s family helped support him in Paris when he struggled to become a writer.
“We owned the building, so we weren’t paying rent to anybody. And we didn’t have to worry about getting put out,” Karefa-Smart says. “And then we had tenants. God bless them, because they had to live through a lot of very noisy and raucous family celebrations.”
I remember him speaking to you directly. You knew that he loved you.
Baldwin was often around at the holidays, which was a special time because of his grandmother’s birthday. Uncle Jimmy’s mom’s birthday fell on Christmas Day.
The nieces and nephews were “very much the apples of his eye,” Karefa-Smart says. His Uncle Jimmy did not have children of his own and loved seeing his nieces and nephews whenever he came to town. “I remember him speaking to you directly. You knew that he loved you, you know, and that was very, very important.”
His mother, Gloria Karefa-Smart, handles matters for the Baldwin estate, ensuring his books remain published worldwide, She used to manage their apartment house on West 71 Street, which they no longer own. He lives in Washington, D.C., where his work involves music concerts and other events.
James Baldwin signing books in a crowded book store, 1980. (Photo by Afro American Newspapers/Gado/Getty Images)
Afro American Newspapers/Gado/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Afro American Newspapers/Gado/Getty Images
Karefa-Smart will be 50 next year. He still talks about Baldwin’s books with his cousins and siblings.
“Sometimes, I read his work and I find that I have to put it down. Every other word is a bomb — and a sentence, it’s like a booming cannon. It resonates with you,” he says. “I believe a lot of people who read his work have the same exact reaction.”
He’s currently reading Baldwin’s 1985 book, The Evidence of Things Not Seen, which considers the Atlanta child murders. “But he also uses it as an examination of how America treats its children and how people are treated in society,” he says. “And it’s just one of those books where you just have to read it more than once.”
On the 100-year anniversary of his uncle’s birth, Karefa-Smart offers a suggestion. “I would just say to people to continue to read your Baldwin. Connect with his work and the work of other notable authors who, you know, want a change in the world that is better for our children and our children’s children.”
“If you have, you know, oxygen in your lungs, and you’re above ground and you’re moving? You have an opportunity to make a difference, a positive difference and have a positive impact, you know, in someone’s life.”
American author James Baldwin at Hampshire College, Amherst, Massachusetts in 1985.
Ruby Washington/New York Times Co./Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Ruby Washington/New York Times Co./Getty Images
Lifestyle
How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet
The scoreboard shows the results of the women’s singles final match between Iga Swiatek of Poland and Amanda Anisimova of the U.S. at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships in London, Saturday, July 12, 2025.
Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP
hide caption
toggle caption
Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP
Fifteen points in tennis? Nice. Thirty, 40 — even better. Advantage — that sounds good. “Love” — that also must be great, right? Well, not quite.
As the French Open rolls on and Serena Williams has announced her return to the sport, maybe you’ve been paying a little more attention to tennis. The sport’s scoring system is notably distinct, and can sometimes be hard to grasp for newcomers. But even tennis aficionados might not know why, or how, “love” became the unmistakable callout for zero points. For this installment of NPR’s Word of the Week, we’re exploring how a word that signifies trailing behind got such a sweet name.
“Love” comes from the heart — or an egg?
It’s hard to pinpoint when the first tennis ball went over the net. Tennis is a derivative of lots of other sports, such as “jeu de paume,” a handball game played in France, said JT Buzanga, the collections manager at the International Tennis Hall of Fame museum.

But tennis became a patented, official sport in 1874, said Steve Flink, a journalist whose tennis coverage got him inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. It has retained its unique, mysterious scoring system ever since.
“By and large, the original system has held up almost entirely,” Flink said.
The use of “love” goes back to the late 18th century, said Jesse Sheidlower, a lexicographer. But it was used earlier than that in card games such as whist and bridge. Before the term made its way to tennis, the sport favored plain old “nothing,” or “nil,” he said.
Why love in the first place, though? Historians don’t really know for sure, but there are a few theories.
The French could have something to do with it. Some historians believe “love” derives from “l’oeuf,” which means “the egg” in French. Because eggs are shaped like zeros, terms such as “goose egg” and “duck’s egg” have been used in other contexts to mean zero, Sheidlower said.
It’s also possible English speakers mispronounced l’oeuf as “love.” But Sheidlower isn’t convinced that’s the answer.
“It’s the French equivalent of an English expression. But since that expression doesn’t appear in French, the French word wouldn’t have been used,” he said.
To be sure, France has had a lot of influence on tennis culture, Buzanga said. For example, “deuce” or a game tied at 40 points, comes from the French word for “two”: “deux.” But he prefers another prominent theory: that “love” comes from the idiom “for the love of the game.” Even if a player hasn’t scored, it doesn’t matter, because their heart is in it. It’s the theory Sheidlower said is the most plausible, because the idiom was used by the English before tennis was popularized.

Another variation of the “love of the game” theory is that the word could have come from the Dutch “lof,” or “honor” — or the Latin “amare,” meaning “to love,” Flink said.
But if tennis’ “love” doesn’t come from a French word, the theory at least has a French sensibility.
“I think the ‘for the love of the game’ is kind of romantic,” Buzanga said.
“Love” probably isn’t going anywhere
Tennis used to be a sport of leisure. The style of play has changed a lot over the years; players are more athletic and competitive, for instance, Flink said. But the rules of the sport are more steadfast, he said.
“There’s this incredible, enduring respect for tradition in tennis,” he said. “Changes are not made easily.”
There has been one major change in modern history: the tie-break. Matches can go on and on because players have to score two consecutive points to break a deuce, or by two games to break a tied set. But the onset of television meant matches would have to get shorter if the sport wanted to capture a larger audience, Flink said.

Change even came for “love.” An alternative sprouted up in the 1970s, and is still used today: “bagel,” named for its zero shape, Sheidlower said. Novices may say “zero,” and insiders will understand what they mean, but they “will needle them about it,” Flink said.
But “love” still prevails.
“People kind of like it,” Flink said. “It’s different. Why say zero when you can say love?”
Lifestyle
With Highway 1 open, Big Sur braces for its busiest summer in years
On a 75-mile cliff-hugging stretch of highway in California, traffic is way up, despite soaring gas prices. And locals expect the busiest summer in years.
The road is Highway 1 in Big Sur, which reopened in January after three years of repair and reconstruction following a pair of landslides. Drivers can once again embark on the state’s most famous road trip, covering the 100 miles between Cambria to the south and Carmel to the north without leaving the two-lane coastal highway. And they’re heading out in big numbers.
Caltrans estimates that as of May, Big Sur restaurant and retailer guest counts are up 40% from last year, and that northbound traffic at Ragged Point, the southern gateway to Big Sur, has risen 900% year-over-year.
People pose for photos near Bixby Bridge. Monterey County’s Board of Supervisors voted to explore a 12-month ban on parking around the bridge.
Safety cones prevent parking along Coast Road near the Bixby Bridge.
“Take your time,” said Kirk Gafill, co-owner of the popular Nepenthe restaurant and president of the Big Sur Chamber of Commerce, offering advice to travelers. “You’re going to be sharing the road with a number of people.”
As travelers rediscover the road, the cost of driving has been shooting skyward. California’s average gas price ($6.11 per gallon as of May 26) is up 26% from the year before. In early April, rates hit $9.99 at the isolated gas station in the Big Sur community of Gorda.
For spring and summer travelers, these numbers would seem to pose a stark question: Stay home and save money, or head for the coast because the road is finally open and it’s still cheaper than flying?
So far, the latter answer is winning big.
Fog lingers off the coast of Highway 1.
“We are definitely seeing a huge uptick in our reservations,” said Megan Handy, assistant general manager at the upscale Treebones resort. She estimated that bookings are 30% or more ahead of last year, and rates are unchanged since then. But “it’s still not feeling super crowded, which is nice. Everything still feels kind of calm.”
But added traffic has raised some anxiety. On May 19, Monterey County’s Board of Supervisors voted to explore a 12-month ban on parking at Bixby Bridge, one of the region’s top photo spots.
Over the years, the number of cars parking near the bridge — often illegally, sometimes impeding emergency vehicles — has risen. The proposed parking moratorium won’t take effect until the supervisors discuss it further.
-
Share via
Busy as things are, several business owners pointed out that many international travelers have not yet returned — perhaps because most make their plans more than six months ahead, perhaps because of global politics, perhaps a little of each.
The biggest challenge for businesses during this resurgence? “Restaffing and retaining,” said Handy at Treetops.
At Nepenthe, Gafill said his business has seen a 45% boost in guest volume since the road’s reopening. Gafill said he would have expected a 35% pickup, “simply by virtue of reopening the highway.” The additional 10%, he said, might be “all that pent-up demand,” aided by “a very beautiful and very dry winter,” followed by a mild spring.
A lunch crowd dines at popular restaurant Nepenthe.
Another possible factor: Nobody can be sure how long the road will remain open.
To cope with the influx of people, Gafill said, “everybody is trying to recruit and retain their existing staff.”
At the Ragged Point Inn, where rates dropped as low as $149 nightly last fall, rates are back over $200 and staffers are suggesting that customers book at least six months ahead. The inn has reopened its snack bar for the first time since early 2023, and management is investing in capital upgrades and staging live music on weekends throughout the summer.
Business “is up over 100%,” said Diane Ramey, whose family owns the inn. “I know not all of our neighbors are having the same lift, but everybody is doing better.”
Traffic approaching Bixby Bridge.
A visitor poses in an oversized chair at Big Sur River Inn.
Even at the New Camaldoli Hermitage, a Benedictine monastery above Lucia, the road’s reopening and coming summer season have made a difference. Bookings are up an estimated 30% at the hermitage, which rent rooms and cottages (for two nights or more) to visitors who agree to its requirement of silence.
Big Sur business owners advise visitors to travel on weekdays for less traffic and the best hotel rates, and to get on the road as early as possible.
Since its opening in 1937, the highway has been vulnerable to landslides and shifting ground, operating on a longstanding cycle of landslide, closure, repair, reopening and then another landslide, or sometimes a fire. The U.S. Geological Survey has identified the Big Sur coastline as one of the most landslide-prone areas in the western United States. The 2023-2026 closure was the longest in the highway’s history.
Over time, road crews have used increasingly sophisticated strategies. In the most recent efforts, Caltrans said, it used drones to help survey the slopes and remotely operated bulldozers and excavators to reduce risks to workers.
During the closure, no traffic was allowed on 6.8-mile span from just north of Lucia until about a mile south of the Esalen Institute. Drivers detoured inland by way of U.S. 101.
Lifestyle
Firings at CBS’ ’60 Minutes’ reflect the fight for media control in the age of Trump
Correspondents of CBS’ 60 Minutes pose for a portrait in 2023. From left to right, they are Sharyn Alfonsi, L. Jon Wertheim, Bill Whitaker, Lesley Stahl, Scott Pelley, Cecilia Vega, and Anderson Cooper. Former Executive Producer Bill Owens sits on the far right. Only Wertheim, Whitaker and Stahl remain at the program.
CBS Photo Archive/CBS via Getty Images/CBS
hide caption
toggle caption
CBS Photo Archive/CBS via Getty Images/CBS
Stay up to date with our Up First newsletter sent every weekday morning.
When CBS fired Scott Pelley on Tuesday night, the new 60 Minutes executive producer, Nick Bilton, told Pelley it was for insubordination at a staff meeting the day before.
The veteran correspondent argues he was defending the DNA of 60 Minutes and the integrity of its journalism.
The battle royale over the network’s most prestigious and profitable news program is part of a broader fight over the direction of CBS News.
And given CBS’s acquisition by a billionaire family whose business interests have become intertwined with the political interests of President Trump, it reflects a larger war over control of the media in the current moment.

That father and son, Larry and David Ellison, bought CBS’ parent company, Paramount, last summer. In January, they became co-owners of TikTok’s U.S. operations. Now they’re seeking approval from Trump’s regulators to buy Warner Bros. Discovery, the parent company of CNN.
A glamorous show shorn, for now, of most its stars
CBS fired Cecilia Vega, a correspondent, and Tanya Simon, the executive producer, from 60 Minutes last week. They are shown in this photo at the 2026 White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner on April 25, 2026 in Washington, D.C.
Kristina Bumphrey/Variety via Getty Images/Variety
hide caption
toggle caption
Kristina Bumphrey/Variety via Getty Images/Variety
But the specifics of this individual episode matter — for 60 Minutes, CBS, its audience of millions, and even the news business itself.
The program has been the most glamorous post in broadcast news. The correspondents are the stars of the show. And now, there are just three of them.
Anderson Cooper left last month, concerned over the direction of the network’s coverage. Last week was a virtual bloodbath: correspondents Cecilia Vega and Sharyn Alfonsi were fired. So were a producer and two show executives — including Tanya Simon, a longtime staffer who had stepped up as executive producer when her predecessor resigned in protest before the Ellisons’ takeover.

With Pelley’s ouster, only correspondents Lesley Stahl, Bill Whitaker, and Jon Wertheim remain. Now they are considering whether to resign, according to two associates with knowledge.
Their brand-new boss, Bilton, was previously a tech reporter for The New York Times and an investigative reporter for Vanity Fair. He executive-produced a documentary for Netflix about a couple accused of laundering Bitcoin and has been a producer on several other films.
Notably, he has no experience in television news.
Neither does Bari Weiss, whom David Ellison installed as the network’s editor in chief last October. The Ellisons also bought her center-right views-and-news site, The Free Press.
She has maintained that the network of Walter Cronkite needs a makeover for the digital moment. She has also contended for years that CBS, along with the rest of mainstream media, is too reflexively anti-Trump, anti-Israel, and too woke.
A rejection of CBS News executives’ overtures
The new executive producer of 60 Minutes, Nick Bilton, has been a tech journalist and documentary filmmaker, but lacks experience in broadcast news.
Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images/Getty Images North America
hide caption
toggle caption
Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images/Getty Images North America
Bilton attempted to set a conciliatory tone at Monday’s meeting — his first with the show. Pelley, a formidable veteran correspondent and former CBS Evening News anchor, wasn’t having it.
Pelley called Bilton unwelcome and unqualified. And Pelley said that Weiss was attempting to “murder” the program.
In firing Pelley on Tuesday, Bilton said the journalist had hijacked the meeting and rejected overtures to work constructively through their differences. (NPR obtained a copy of the firing notice.) Bilton wrote that Pelley’s “antipathy to the future of the show came through loud and clear.”
In his own statement late Tuesday evening, shared with NPR, Pelley accused CBS’s new news leadership of killing 60 Minutes‘ DNA and pushing him “to inject falsehoods and bias into a politically sensitive story” and “to include assertions that are unverified.”
The accusations, to which CBS has not yet responded, echo those made by Alfonsi and Vega, the two correspondents fired last week.
Earlier this year, Alfonsi publicly complained after Weiss held one of her stories at the last minute, and kept it frozen for weeks, demanding an on-camera interview with a Trump White House official that never played out. It ran, unchanged from the intended version, with additional statements from the administration tacked on to the end.
After being fired, Vega said in a statement obtained by NPR that her team had “experienced efforts to insert political bias into our stories.”
“Let’s call this what it is: censorship, both censorship and self-driven” Vega continued. “It is dangerous for the show and dangerous for democracy.”
Weiss previously rejected Alfonsi’s and Vega’s allegations. (CBS said Vega’s claims, for example, were “not based in reality” while expressing appreciation for her work.)
Weiss and Bilton say digital threat requires a 60 Minutes overhaul now
In a meeting this morning, Weiss said that Pelley chose his own path — that is, to be fired rather than to find a way to work through his concerns, according to attendees. The network and Weiss have not yet publicly addressed Pelley’s accusations of interference.
Bilton and Weiss say they respect the show’s traditions, its accomplishments and its legacy of enterprise reporting, extended interviews and visual storytelling. It rose in the ratings 9% over the past season under Simon.
The two news leaders say, however, 60 Minutes needs to be overhauled before it becomes increasingly irrelevant in the era of streamers and other sources of news, information and entertainment in the digital age.
Interviews with 12 current and former CBS News staffers, from producers to executives, suggest great reservations and suspicions remain about Weiss’ judgment and her ability to handle the prominent and even famous journalists on whom her division relies.
Weiss had initially sought to reinvent the CBS Evening News, dropping a two-anchor format that had sagged in the ratings. Cooper turned down Weiss’ overtures to anchor it and left the network altogether, concerned about her approach, according to associates. (They spoke on condition of anonymity because Cooper has not chosen to speak publicly on the matter.)
David Ellison became chairman and CEO of CBS’ parent company, Paramount, after buying it last year.
Noam Galai/Getty Images for Paramount/Getty Images North America
hide caption
toggle caption
Noam Galai/Getty Images for Paramount/Getty Images North America
The ratings have continued to sag under new anchor Tony Dokoupil. And some CBS journalists, including producers who have left the Evening News, have publicly accused Weiss of making editorial decisions driven by politics. She has rejected those claims.
The decision to take on overhauling two key shows — one listing, one highly profitable, both high profile — carries significant risks for Weiss and the network, even apart from other considerations.
But the Ellisons’ presence cannot be ignored.

When Shari Redstone was negotiating the sale of CBS’s parent company, Paramount, to the Ellisons’ Skydance Media last year, the network announced the end of Stephen Colbert’s late night show. He had been one of the president’s most biting and acerbic critics.
David Ellison also made a series of concessions directly to Trump’s chief broadcast regulator, Federal Communications Commission Chair Brendan Carr, gutting CBS’s diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives and appointing a conservative ombudsman to field complaints of bias against its news reporting.
Carr and other regulators approved the Paramount deal last summer.
The accommodations echo those made by other media titans.
Amazon and Blue Origin founder Jeff Bezos remade the editorial pages of the Washington Post, which he owns, into a far more hospitable zone for Trump at the outset of his second term. So did Los Angeles Times owner Dr. Patrick Soon-Shiong, a noted medical device inventor. Amazon and Blue Origin have multi-billion dollar contracts with the federal government. Soon-Shiong’s medical research firm routinely has patent applications up for review with federal regulators. One was approved Tuesday.
The Ellisons are hoping to win approval from federal regulators next month for their purchase of Warner Bros. Discovery in a deal valued at more than $110 billion. It would include Warner Bros. Studio, HBO and CNN, among other properties.
As Weiss routs CBS News’ old guard, the question of what role she might play at CNN — and what changes that portends at CBS — hangs over journalists at the two networks. The fate of 60 Minutes serves as a high-stakes case study for both.
-
New Mexico1 minute agoSouth Valley business estimates $1M in damages after recycling plant fire
-
North Carolina4 minutes agoJ.R. Smith Graduates From North Carolina A&T, Fulfilling A Promise Years In The Making | Essence
-
North Dakota9 minutes agoThe Worst Prisons In The USA: Where Does The ND State Pen Rank?
-
Ohio16 minutes agoOhio auditor describes how widespread Medicaid fraud affects taxpayers | Fox News Video
-
Oklahoma19 minutes agoOne injured in auto-pedestrian crash in northwest Oklahoma City
-
Oregon24 minutes ago
Woman dies after falling into Devil’s Punchbowl on Oregon coast
-
Pennsylvania31 minutes agoHalf of child deaths left unreviewed in Pennsylvania since 2020 as counties struggle with ‘unfunded mandate’
-
Rhode Island34 minutes agoHe grew up in the kitchen. Then he rewrote the menu, and the future of his parents’ restaurant – The Boston Globe