By Bob Gaydos

Something to consider as you stock the cooler, clean the grill and get the burgers, hot dogs and buns ready for Friday’s Fourth of July celebration: On the eve of Independence Day, Paramount Global, parent company of CBS, agreed to give Donald Trump $16 million because he didn’t like the way the staff at 60 Minutes, the premiere news show at CBS, edited an interview with Kamala Harris last October.

That’s pretty much the gist. Paramount, an entertainment company which has no business owning a news media operation, figured it was cheaper to buy off the president of the United States, than go to court and defend its journalists’ rights under the First Amendment  to the Constitution. A free press, to be specific.

Trump, who was running for president against Harris at the time, sued 60 Minutes, claiming the edited interview was defamatory to him. Editors at 60 Minutes, which has continued to tell the truth about Trump, said it wasn’t. The board at Paramount said we have a bottom line to worry about, new projects to worry about and we don’t want Trump siccing his legal goons on us. They didn’t say that, but that’s the gist.

Trump, who threatens lawsuits almost as much as he lies, just recently threatened to sue both CNN and The New York Times for their reporting on leaked information regarding U.S. bomb strikes on nuclear power sites in Iran.

Trump immediately bragged that the attacks had “decimated” Iran’s nuclear weapon capability. But U.S. intelligence reports a couple of days after the attack cast serious doubt on that assessment. Trump demanded a retraction of the reports by both news agencies.

CNN and The Times stuck to their guns and their reporting. CNN said it will issue no retraction. The Times issued a statement saying, “No retraction is needed. No apology will be forthcoming. We told the truth to the best of our ability. We will continue to do so.”

I sincerely hope so. The Times appears to have gotten over its infatuation with tiptoeing around Trump. Couldn’t have come at a more important time.

The truth is the truth and a free press is a free press. Both have been under constant attack since Trump entered national politics and, unfortunately, a lot of Americans in my opinion have forgotten what it means to have a free and independent press.

You hear a lot of complaints about the so-called “mainstream media,” whoever that may be, but I think the slow death of so many local newspapers, bought up by corporate interests with no journalistic background and concerned only with their bottom lines, has caused many Americans to forget what it means to have a free and independent press delivered every day on their doorstep.

After a while, you don’t know what you don’t know because nobody’s telling you. Except for Trump and his henchmen on social media. And Trump siccing his lawyers on anyone who dares even suggest that he might not be telling the truth.

You can say this is a bit personal for me since I spent more than 40 years working for daily newspapers, 23 of them writing editorials on an almost daily basis. I loved it. From my observation, so did most of the people I worked with. Also, from my observation, the people running the show recognized that, with the freedom guaranteed under the Constitution came a responsibility to be honest and truthful and factual. That’s our job. Tell the truth. Let him sue. We’re not called the Fourth Estate for nothing.

Anyway, something to think about. Have a hotdog on me, forget about the fireworks and maybe let the people at 60 Minutes know you appreciate their efforts.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

July 7, Main Street

By Carrie Jacobson

Wachapreague, where we live, could barely be smaller and still be a town. In addition to Peter and me, there are just about 198 other souls living here, some of them only part-time.

As for municipal staff, there is a mayor, but he doesn’t go into town hall unless there’s a meeting. There’s a town clerk who works maybe 20 hours a week, and then there is the public works crew, JD and John. They do all the mowing and trimming, pick up the brush and the trash, keep the town signs painted and the town property sparkling, fix stuff that breaks, and put up and take down the flags on Main Street.

Main Street, as you might imagine, is not very long. There aren’t that many flags. But when the flags go up, I feel festive and happy. I love seeing them hanging, bright and shining and fluttering in the wind.

Our teeny town had a great July Fourth celebration, which the hurricane blew to  July Fifth. There was a small, sweet parade, with golf carts, kids on bikes, Coast Guard guys towing a Coast Guard boat, and two floats, one legitimate, one just a sort-of float. It took about five minutes – the right length for a parade, in my book.

Afterwards, there was a cookout, and a band, and people paragliding out of a plane. And at night, there were amazing, amazing fireworks, funded and set off by a guy in town.

And then on Monday, JD drove while John took down the flags. I was sorry to see them go.

This weekend felt like America to me. It felt like the dream of America, the idea I had as a kid, of an America of sunny summer days, spent with people that I love, laughing and enjoying life, in a small, quiet place.