Three weeks short of the anniversary of the Reverend Jerry Falwell’s death in May, 2007, the preacher’s wing-nut politics continue to influence the 12,000 students on the campus of Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia. College President Jerry Falwell Jr. following in daddy’s footsteps by announcing that Glenn Beck will deliver the commencement speech to this year’s Liberty graduates.  

The Class of 2010 will go forth in the world armed with the knowledge that their university tolerates lunatics. I guess that’s progress for a school founded by the Reverend Falwellin 1971. After all, he was always notorious for intolerance during the 50 years he served as pastor of the Thomas Road Baptist Church. Indeed, Falwell set a remarkably low standard for intolerance by joining fellow television preacher and spiritual exploiter Pat Robertson in blaming pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays and lesbians for contributing to the the 9/11 terrorist’s attacks on the World Trade Center, adding a footnote that the attack was “probably well-deserved.” Falwell later apologized for his remarks.

I had only two encounters in my careeer with Falwell—both under duplicitous circumstances. The first occured a few days after televangelist Jim Bakker got caught up in a sex scandal that led to the collapse of a South Carolina-based cable network and religious-themed vacation resort controlled by the diminutive preacher and his late mascara-laden wife, Tammy. In the early stages of the Bakker scandal, a Falwell-hired lawyer met with me at his request in an effort to dig dirt on Jimmy Swaggart, who was suspected of trying to take advantage of Bakker’s fall and gain control of the spiritual domain. That never happened.  

A few months later, Swaggart did himself in and I did my only one-on-one interview with Falwell. Again,  he was slinging mud at Swaggart. Following the disclosure of Brother Jimmy’s New Orleans whore-mongering trips, Falwell made himself available for a satellite interview on some premise that I have long forgotten. Nonetheless, it was apparent that real motive for doing an  interview was to add to Swaggart’s misery.

Although I already considered Falwell a manipulative opportunist, I didn’t realize his capacity to lie for political and personal gain until my mid-1990’s CNN investigations relating to the Whitewater debacle. While channel surfing one night, I happened upon the preacher peddling DVD’s of a “documentary.” In reality, the video was a libelous attack on Bill and Hillary Clinton, and various people linked to the Clintons. I write about Falwell’s promotion of the so-called exposé in Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger. 

The Clinton Chronicles was an idiot’s guide to character assassination featuring a cast of right-wing characters who made the 2004 “Swift Boat” attacks on Democratic Presidential candidate John Kerry’s military record seem like a tribute. Vigorously promoted by the late Jerry Falwell, the so-called documentary was a forum for the crackpot fantasies of a former Arkansas segregationist judge, a low-ranking ex-Arkansas state employee, a loopy former congressman, and a hodgepodge of drooling characters unable to discern truth from fiction―as if they cared.

I know it’s customary to say something nice about the dearly departed. But based on pre-Whitewater encounters with the Reverend Jerry Falwell, I have to rely on the cliché, “He didn’t seem to sweat a lot for a fat man.” Watching the jowly TV preacher bear false witness for the benefit of his disbanded Moral Majority and brainwashed Rush Limbaugh malcontents, I wondered what Jesus would do―WWJD? If Jerry arrived at his hoped for Heavenly home, an entry surely requiring generous dispensation, he probably knows what Jesus would not do. WJWND. He would not lend His name to smears by harebrained lunatics in $34.95 DVD’s. 

Despite investing $200,000 in the production of the documentary, Falwell later stated that he could not vouch for the accuracy of allegations in the video. However, I am able to vouch for the inaccuracy of most of the baseless claims—in particular allegations of links between Bill Clinton and international drug smuggler Barry Seal. Years before the Falwell-sponsored documentary was produced, I effectively dispelled rumors that Seal ties to the CIA and/or high-ranking government officials. And in the course of my later reporting in Little Rock and Mena, Arkansas, I documented that the Whitewater investigation was a political witch-hunt based on an accumulation of lies. 

But ever since the days Jerry Falwell entered the nation’s public consciousness  in 1979 as founder of the Moral Majority, he never let truth interfere with his conservative agenda. Therefore, the selection of Glenn Beck as Liberty University’s graduation speaker is not all that surprising.

It is, perhaps, Jerry Jr.’s way of honoring his daddy by perpetuating a legacy of disinformation.

 My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. It is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.   

I’m speaking today to the Sons of the American Revolution, so I’ve spent a little time pondering 1776 and what it means. To a great extent, my early investigative reporter ancestors sewed the roots of revolution. They distributed pamphlets raging about the rule of King George III. Indeed, I was among the muckrakers doing an exposé of the King. But 200 years later.

In 1976, Miami’s NBC affiliate produced a faux newscast on July 4th  depicting stories of the revolutionary era. As the station’s investigative reporter, I appeared in costume slinging mud at the King over corrupt activities. I don’t recall the specifics, other than it had something to do with profiteering by the monarch’s friends. Sound familiar?

As an aside, my 18th century costume was more appropriate than the garb I wore for my television debut three years before. On that occasion I dazzled south Florida with a gleaming white polyester coat, a black silk shirt, a sparkling, wide-body white tie and tinted glasses that turned opaque under the glare of studio lights. The station owner was not among those dazzled by my fashion. “I thought we hired this guy to investigate the mafia, not join it,” he said to the man who hired me.

But what the hell did I know about fashion? I had spent the previous five years in Louisiana dealing with bookies, ambulance chasing lawyers and colorful state legislators. In my mind, the outfit was the most suave clothing in my tacky wardrobe. Anyway, besides developing a taste for fashion in Louisiana, I learned about dirty politics—even becoming a participant.

In early sobriety in 1971, while trying to get my financial house in order, I committed  to paying bill collectors a certain amount of money each month. A few months later, I was $300.00 short of meeting the obligations. Not very much money, although it then seemed like thousands to me. At the very moment I sat pondering my dilemma, a political consultant friend called and asked me to do a television spot on behalf of a fringe gubernatorial candidate named Puggy Moity.

As was the custom in those days, political groups secretly underwrote the campaigns of straw men, who acted as attack dogs on behalf of candidates. The target in this instance was Edwin Edwards—running for the first of four terms he served as Governor. I had never done a political commercial, nor have I done one since. But the consultant, the late Brooks Read, made an offer I couldn’t refuse. He would pay me $300.00 to do the spot. I considered it an early miracle of my sobriety. As I recall, it was a 30 second ad that attacked Edwards for his frequent gambling junkets to Las Vegas.

Cheap shots have a long history in politics. Thomas Jefferson was attacked for his alleged affairs with slaves. And during the ensuing years, nearly every presidential candidate has withstood withering criticisms based on truth, half-truths, rumors and outright lies. Hence, I take in stride contemporary attacks that I know have no basis in fact. It’s our tradition.

Fifteen years ago, I learned first hand how vicious politics can be. As CNN’s designated muckraker covering the debacle called, Whitewater, I was a front row witness to abuses by the office of Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr. He and his minions aided and abetted the Republican Party in an effort to bring down Bill Clinton.

Before my right-wing friends and relatives get their bowels in an uproar, let me add that I have also been an eyewitness to the rhetoric of the left. I covered the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago and the 1972 Republican National Convention in Miami Beach. Those were the hippie years. And although our minds eye image is of young anti-war demonstrators marching against Vietnam, it was older and more extreme left-wingers, who gave a voice to the protestors.  

In 1968, establishment Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey narrowly lost in an election that was influenced by a backlash from television images showing out-of-control demonstrators in Chicago. And responding to the left in 1972, Democrats nominated George McGovern. He was soundly defeated by Richard Nixon by a margin equal to that of the John Birch Society’s favored candidate—Barry Goldwater. He was crushed in 1964 by Lyndon Baines Johnson. If there is a lesson in all this, it is that people who scream the loudest don’t have much influence on elections. At least not in a positive way. Nonetheless, journalists—especially cable news—give them more coverage than they deserve.

No doubt, many of screamers of the 1960’s and seventies are now involved in the Tea Party movement. That’s what makes the country great. Not only do they have the right to march and protest, they also have the freedom to change their minds and jump from far-left to far-right.

From my perspective, dirty politics is good clean fun.