Fresh Air
Fresh Air with Terry Gross, the Peabody Award-winning weekday magazine of contemporary arts and issues, is one of public radio's most popular programs. Each week, nearly 4.5 million people listen to the show's intimate conversations broadcast on more than 450 National Public Radio (NPR) stations across the country, as well as in Europe on the World Radio Network. Though Fresh Air has been categorized as a "talk show," it hardly fits the mold. Its 1994 Peabody Award citation credits Fresh Air with "probing questions, revelatory interviews and unusual insights." And a variety of top publications count Gross among the country's leading interviewers. The show gives interviews as much time as needed, and complements them with comments from well-known critics and commentators.
Larry Wilmore debuts Comedy Central's The Nightly Show with Larry Wilmore on...
Wilmore is still fine-tuning The Nightly Show, which fills the late-night spot on Comedy Central vacated by Stephen Colbert. The show launched just as Wilmore's 20-year marriage was coming to an end.

Larry Wilmore has been consumed with making his new late-night show prime viewing. And he wants to make one thing clear: He has "no desire" to host The Daily Show when Jon Stewart leaves later this year.

"I'm doing my show right now," Wilmore tells Fresh Air's Terry Gross. "I'm very happy doing it."

Wilmore filled the slot after The Daily Show on Comedy Central that was vacated by Stephen Colbert. The first episode of The Nightly Show aired late last month.

Since then, the former "senior black correspondent" for The Daily Show says he and his producers have been refining what The Nightly Show is about.

"The Daily Show, at its core, is the answer to the nightly news," he says. "The Colbert [Report], at its core, was kind of an answer to what you call opinion news, if you're Bill O'Reilly, that sort of thing. So we had to figure out — who was our cousin? For me it was kind of like Meet the Press or George Stephanopoulos, you know ... that sort of show. ... The show is really about a conversation."

The Nightly Show often starts with an opening monologue by Wilmore. The centerpiece is a discussion moderated by Wilmore, on a social, cultural or political issue. The panel includes politicians, journalists, actors, musicians and at least one comic.

Wilmore has been working in TV for a long time. He wrote for In Living Color; created The Bernie Mac Show; co-created, with Eddie Murphy, the animated series The PJs; was a consulting producer for The Office; and was the showrunner for Black-ish.

Interview Highlights

On feeling like an outsider as one of the few black kids in school

I never went to a predominantly black school so I always felt like my phrase is, "I feel like I'm at a family reunion and I'm not in the family." ... Because you have friends and everything, but there's something where you just feel like you don't quite fit in.

I always compartmentalized so many different things. I was an athlete so I hung out with the jocks. I was smart, so I hung out with the nerdy kids. I was also into theater, so I hung out with the misfits. ... So I was always in different groups and those groups never quite overlapped. The racial part of it was just another one of those groups, in one sense.

On being raised Catholic

I don't have that kind of Southern experience, of the fire-and-brimstone preacher type of thing. Certainly not in my comedy. I come more from the guilt-ridden, neurotic type of [—] I have more in common with the Jewish brand of comedy. I've always related to that. Groucho [Marx] was always my comic hero and that sort of thing. I've always related to that just because Catholic and Jew — it's very closely related, a lot of holidays, a lot of guilt, a lot of the same things going on.

On going through a divorce while starting a new show

It was quite a year, I'll tell you, because it was tough when people would say, "Aren't you so excited?" about the new show and I couldn't really say, "Yes, well, I'm going through a divorce right now, too." So this year has been a swirl of emotions because we were married for 20 years. ... But it's an amicable one, we're good friends and everything. It's something we've been going through a long time. ...

This year has been extraordinary because it is the biggest thing that has ever happened to me in my career and the lowest thing in terms of my personal life. It happened at the exact same time — and to go through that is a very humbling experience. To be honest with you ... I've always felt like I had a guardian angel in some of those ways, because you need a tremendous amount of humility when you're doing something like this. And it is important to keep grounded in certain ways, and nothing grounds you more than having to deal with an issue like that.

On whether his father, a probation officer, warned him about racist police

I came up in a different time. When I was a kid, there was kind of a given that there were some really bad, racist police out there. That's just what America was like when I was a kid. So I think you knew that something bad could happen to you. There was no need for that talk. I don't know any black kid that didn't think that could happen. So the whole notion of a talk kind of seems redundant. What is it about racism that you can't see that you don't know? People forget how bad it was at a certain time, you know? When I was born there were still different drinking fountains you had to drink out of. My parents came from Chicago. They saw some of the worst racist stuff, so that was kind of just in the air.

On being a black comedian coming of age when Def Jam comedy was the style

Hollywood wanted a certain type of comic — that Def Jam comedy style of comic that was very loud, very brash, very much from the ghetto, had that sensibility.

But when I was coming up, there were many different styles of what you would call "black comedy." There was Bill Cosby who was the storyteller — just told stories about growing up. There was Dick Gregory who was a political comic who really did political humor. There was Godfrey Cambridge who was kind of a hipster, it was more of a sly take on the culture. Flip Wilson [did] more of [the] vaudevillian type of jokes, told classic-type jokes. ... Then you had Redd Foxx who was what you'd call your "party records" type of comic who did blue material and that kind of thing. They were all completely different and distinct types of comics; they didn't fit into one type of mold. You would never confuse Flip Wilson with Redd Foxx, you just wouldn't. ...

[When I was older] it seemed like Hollywood was only hiring [the Def Jam] type. I realized I had to take matters into my own hands. I've always been sort of entrepreneurial. ... I felt that I needed to learn how to write and produce so I could write my own thing and not worry about Hollywood finding me. And that's why I jumped into writing and producing.

On the final segment of the show, "Keep it 100"

"Keep it 100" means keeping it 100 percent real. It comes from the expression ... "keeping it real," which means you are being completely honest and 100 percent real means you are really being honest, which is kind of a contradiction of sorts. You're either being honest or you're not. But it's kind of a fun term that has been around for a while, and I've used it in comedy for a little bit.

It's funny — I thought it would be an interesting way to ask a question. ... We had like two test shows in front of an audience and two not in front of an audience, so we had very little time to figure out what our show was — because Colbert left, they had to break down that set, and then we moved in and they were building our set. ...

We were trying to figure out what that third act was — how we were going to comically finish our conversation. I was up till like 4:30 in the morning the night before our last show just trying to think of it and that just kind of came to me. I was thinking about, "Well, what is our show?" I thought, at the heart, our show is about keeping it real, keeping it 100 percent real. That's where I came up with the idea.

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This week, The New Yorker magazine is celebrating its 90th anniversary with ...
Remnick, who became editor in 1998, talks about his early days at the magazine and his biggest regret: He says he'd "love to have another crack" at covering Iraq's alleged weapons of mass destruction.

When David Remnick took the job as editor of The New Yorker in 1998, he learned quickly to make firm decisions about contentious stories. Just a few months into the position, Remnick called Si Newhouse, the magazine's owner, to tell him about a piece he was running that was accusing "all kinds of high-level chicanery."

"I knew that there was this thing at the Washington Post called 'the no surprises rule,' which was that [editor] Ben [Bradlee] knew that he should call [publisher] Katharine Graham when there was something really major so she wasn't surprised when she picked up the paper the next morning," Remnick tells Fresh Air's Terry Gross.

So Remnick says he called Newhouse and told him the story had been "lawyered and checked" and that he felt confident about it. Newhouse replied, in almost a whisper: "That sounds very interesting, I look forward to reading it."

"The message there, to me, was clear: This is your job. You're in charge of this, that's why I made you the editor," Remnick says. "Unspoken was: Don't screw it up or then you won't be the editor. I never called him again."

This week, The New Yorker magazine is celebrating its 90th anniversary with a special edition. The magazine is running nine covers by its most celebrated artists (which you can see in the slideshow above).

Under his tenure, Remnick has guided the magazine — known for its long-form investigative pieces, reviews, cartoons, humor pieces and fiction — through national crises, including Sept. 11 and the war in Iraq. And, as major shifts in media have resulted in the demise of other publications, Remnick has moved The New Yorker into the digital sphere.

Remnick started his career at the Washington Post, where he became Moscow correspondent. His book Lenin's Tomb: The Last Days of the Soviet Empire won a Pulitzer Prize for nonfiction. He joined The New Yorker as a staff writer in 1992. Since he became editor in 1998, The New Yorker has won 37 National Magazine Awards.

Interview Highlights

On publishing Lawrence Wright's expose of Scientology and knowing how litigious that church had been in the past

You have to take those things on all the time, not just with Scientology. You should be doing it all the time — otherwise you're not doing your job. Journalism, some huge percentage of it, should be devoted to putting pressure on power, on nonsense, on chicanery of all kinds and if that's going to invite a lawsuit, well, bring it on. The burden on us [is] to be accurate and fair.

So with Scientology, yes, it wasn't lost on me that they had sued any number of people and organizations in the past, but it seemed that their strategy had changed by the time it got to us. The strategy had gone from suing after publication where they inevitably lost — and I think they're not fools, they saw that they were losing — to trying to put as much pressure on the editorial process ahead of time to make the story in their terms less tough or less damaging.

On becoming the editor of The New Yorker

When I started this job I had never been the editor of anything, except for a high school newspaper. I didn't know much about it. I had been a writer at The New Yorker for five or six years and I had been a reporter for the Washington Post and I called Ben Bradlee, who had been my boss at the Washington Post, and I said, "Please give me some advice," ... And he said, "Have the right owner." And I said, "Well thanks a lot."

On deciding to break the story about the abuse at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq

It was not a tough decision, ultimately. What happened there was that in my understanding, CBS' program that doesn't exist anymore, 60 Minutes II, had the Abu Ghraib information and was very, very reluctant to run it. And I believe, as a result, a source contacted Seymour Hersh and knew him obviously to be interested in such a story and provided at least part of the story and many, many, many horrendous photographs of sexual abuse and other kinds of abuse in Abu Ghraib prison in Baghdad.

Then, in addition to that, Sy was able to get something that I don't believe CBS did have, which was something called a "Taguba Report," which was an internal defense department investigation into this situation. He got this very quickly and we published very quickly online. CBS certainly knew at that point that The New Yorker had this stuff and rushed up their piece that they had been holding back. I know for a fact that that's the case. So there's a certain simultaneity of CBS and The New Yorker and Sy was completely on it for the next three weeks. We published three pieces in three consecutive weeks about Abu Ghraib. We had pictures, we had documents.

On his biggest regret since becoming editor of The New Yorker

By far the biggest mistake is the fact that with all our investigative rigor and editing rigor and suspicion, even, of the Bush Administration, that we didn't put adequate resources into the nonsense story, the fantasy of weapons of mass destruction, which was, at a certain point anyway, the main rational for the Iraq War. I'm not alone in that. Unlike some other places, we didn't publish pieces that were in the other direction, but I would dearly love to have been able to take another crack at that. McClatchy is one of the rare places that did very good work on that, but it wasn't nearly enough.

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The singer-songwriter usually follows in the story-song tradition of his forebears Townes Van Zant and Guy Clark. But in Happy Prisoner he brings enthusiastic curiosity to covers of bluegrass greats.

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