The elitist Washington Post in its own unabashed words . . . on Ben Bradlee

Special to WorldTribune.com

How does the house organ of the Democratic establishment honor its former editor Ben Bradlee in death? With reverence, no worshipfulness, for the man and the Ruling Class he symbolized. Once held somewhat accountable by The Washington Times, the Post is now oblivious to how it reads outside its own bubble and has honed itself into the perfect parody of itself:

BradleeMournersRoxanne Roberts:  “An invitation to the couple’s historic Georgetown home was one of the most coveted status symbols in the nation’s capital, an entry to an elite salon of the powerful, talented and witty. For Ben’s final sendoff, his wife of 36 years invited 800 or so friends and colleagues to the house for a party on her tented back lawn. The favored packed in like sardines. The uninvited — who not only wanted to pay their respects to the family but wanted the world to see them paying those respects — sulked at home and complained to friends. It was, observed one journalist inching his way through the crowd, a unique collection of bold-face names and media heavyweights from around the country. Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, of course, plus former Post publisher Don Graham, New York Times publisher Arthur Sulzberger Jr., Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer, Tom Brokaw, Charlie Rose, Nancy Pelosi, Jim Lehrer, Ted Koppel, Al Hunt, Norman Lear and billionaire Jeff Bezos, the new owner of The Post who flew overnight to attend the funeral and reception.”

Hendrik Hertzberg of the New Yorker on meeting the couple in 1976 at the peak of their fame: “Bradlee was fifty-five years old then; Sally, thirty-five. The charisma — the vitality, the sheer erotic energy — that radiated that day from him, and from the two of them together, was stronger than anything of the kind I’ve since felt from any of the movie stars, rock stars, and politicians whose paths journalism has put me in.”

Reliable Source: So, on Wednesday morning, official Washington gave Benjamin C. Bradlee, the executive editor who stood at The Post’s helm for more than two decades, the official Washington VIP send-off. How do you know you’re at such an event? The crowd for one. All the right very important people packed into the pews of the Washington National Cathedral at Bradlee’s memorial Wednesday. Present in the congregation of mourners (or, in this case, the celebrants) were a majority of the District’s uppermost social, political and media strata. Vice President Joe Biden and second lady Jill Biden, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer and Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.) all had reserved seats near the altar. Secretary of State John Kerry entered through a private door. Former secretary of defense Donald Rumsfeld waited in line outside. . .

Loren Jenkins, who was a foreign correspondent based in Rome during Bradlee’s tenure, remembers how the young men at the paper began adopting their boss’s upscale style, including shopping at the London-based haberdasher he favored. “Slowly, we all started buying our shirts at Turnbull & Asser, and somehow it just became de rigeur,” he said.

Robert McCartney: I know I might strain your patience by telling yet another Ben Bradlee anecdote. We’ve hear a lot of them since the death last week of the Greatest Editor of the Greatest Generation. . . .

Puhleeeze!

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