The Magic of Public Television
- Democracy Chain
- Aug 6
- 6 min read
by Liz Goldner
August 2, 2025
Listening to Donald J. Trump’s inaugural address on January 20, 2017 on KCET public television, I was disturbed but not surprised by the negativity he conveyed. When he said, “This American carnage stops right here and stops right now,” I could not imagine any President spewing such toxic nonsense. But it was Friday, and I figured that I would hear a cogent explanation of his words on the PBS News Hour, to be broadcast later that day, particularly couched in the wisdom of commentators Mark Shields and David Brooks.
Soon after, a violent rainstorm caused the power in my Laguna Canyon home to be turned off. I figured that the storm was nature’s response to the events occurring in Washington D.C. Then just before 6pm, the power came back on, and I turned the TV back on. Soon after, Shields and Brooks came on the air.
Shields explained what I felt in my gut: “I do know that it was unlike any inaugural address I have ever heard. It was a call to arms to those already enlisted in his army. There was no attempt to reach across the divide. There was no attempt to heal wounds. There was no attempt to reassure or allay fears of those who were apprehensive and had not supported him.” Then he said, “I just have never heard language quite like it or a tone quite like it in an inaugural address.”
Eight and a half years later, I can still see and hear Shields (who passed away in 2022) addressing his audience about the depravity that we were about to experience with Trump as President. Even more significant, PBS was (and for now still is) the publicly supported station facilitating the airing of that message. Yet that show was just one in a long series of programs that I have enjoyed by watching public television almost since its inception.
In the 1970s my news junkie father discovered the newly launched PBS station WNET, broadcast throughout the greater New York City area. He often referred to “The MacNeil/Lehrer Report,” which premiered in 1976. Soon after its inception, I walked into our TV room to the strains of Donald Lamb’s original theme music and with my father watched the groundbreaking 30-minute news program, led by the congenial Robert MacNeill and Jim Lehrer. I was taken with the program’s in-depth reporting and analysis, which was so different from the news programs on most other channels at the time. I have followed public TV in its many permutations ever since, while witnessing “The MacNeil/Lehrer Report” evolve over the years into the PBS News Hour.
I’ve also grown and evolved with public television, enjoying so many of its programs with friends and family. I’ve been entertained by its cultural programs, entranced by its dramatic series, informed by its historical programs, and amused by its groundbreaking children’s series.
Seared into my memory is a program I saw on KCET in August, 1990, broadcast from Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony. It was a celebration of composer/conductor Leonard Bernstein’s 72nd birthday (which turned out to be his last), attended by illustrious performers he worked with over the course of his career. As the event was nearing its end, conductor Seiji Ozawa jumped onto the podium, looked at Bernstein and said, “Lenny, you’ve made our garden grow.” He then proceeded to conduct Bernstein’s song, “Make Our Garden Grow,” the finale of his operetta, “Candide.” All performers that evening joined in singing with great passion, while the camera periodically caught Bernstein sitting in the audience, overcome with emotion. The outpouring of so much genuine passion caused tears to stream down my face.
Public television became a yet more important part of my life in 2015, when an “Artillery” magazine editor suggested that I write for an arts journalism online platform published by KCET’s Artbound series. Writing for that platform over five years, I delved into a range of topics, enhancing my understanding of the world around me, and hopefully enlightening my readers as well.
Artbound’s editor Drew Tewksbury had a nearly cinematic approach to writing assignments. He requested that I go beyond merely describing scenes, to bringing readers into them. In my article, “Laguna Beach in the Sixties: A Colony for the Arts,” he inspired me to write the following about the Laguna Canyon 1970 "Christmas Happening:” “Although this 'Gathering of the Tribes' remained peaceful, the town officials were so unnerved by its presence that police soon blocked vehicle entry to the canyon, forcing people to walk miles or hike over the hills to get in. And before air space was restricted, one attendee parachuted in; and the local "Brotherhood of Eternal Love," an evangelical psychotropic drug dispensing group, flew a small plane over the site, dropping hundreds of postcards affixed with LSD (Orange Sunshine brand) tabs."
Tewksbury also encouraged me to express my most profound reactions to an opera about the war in Iraq, produced by the Long Beach Opera Company. In my article, “Back to Iraq: ‘Fallujah’ Opera Reflects the Aftermath of War,” I wrote, “’Fallujah’s’ message is about young men and their mothers who are dealing with a war that questions and even undermines their identities and relationships. It powerfully conveys the cultural/ethnic divisions and hatred that are created by war, in spite of the individual participants’ shared humanity. The opera also dramatizes the ways we react to violence and shows how we may heal from devastating experiences by sharing the pain in our hearts with others."
I also wrote “The Roots of Radical Art at University of California, Irvine” for Artbound, about a UCI exhibition, featuring its late 1960s to early 1970s art department, which became an imposing force in the advancement of radical performance and conceptual art. Tewksbury urged me to talk to students who attended UCI’s early, free-spirited art school. I wrote: “Charming gray-haired 84-year-old Barbara T. Smith … was there also. When asked about her lifelong obsession with sexually adventurous performance pieces, she smiled broadly, and proclaimed that she hasn't modified her attitude, but she also believes in some strait-laced values such as love. Photographs of her 1970 performance, ‘The Freize,’ at UCI, featured three nude people who she laboriously taped to the wall.” My association with Artbound remains one of my most profound and inspiring writing gigs, five years after that eNewsletter ran out of funds to pay freelance writers.
Public broadcasting, including National Public Radio and other programs, now faces the elimination of federal funding. I realize that the education, comfort and enjoyment I’ve received from the PBS world are irreplaceable. Yet there is hope. A July 24 New York Times article reported, “Over the last three months, as the prospect of the cuts intensified, roughly 120,000 new donors have contributed an estimated $20 million in annual value.” Subsequent reporting in the Washington Post indicates that the number of new donors continues to grow.
As Richard Wilbur’s concluding lyrics to “Candide” proclaim, “We'll build our house / and chop our wood / And make our garden grow.”
Liz Goldner is an award-winning art writer based in Laguna Beach. She has contributed to the LA Times, LA Weekly, KCET Artbound, Artillery, AICA-USA Magazine, Orange County Register, Art Ltd. and several other print and online publications. She has written reviews for ArtScene and Visual Art Source since 2009.
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