A Tribute to Artie Bloom by Jeff Fager

There was not a religious bone in his body, but Artie felt blessed by the life he had.

He was a happy man. He had a wonderful family, a job he loved, and more friends than he ever realized. There is a quote I think about whenever I think of him, though I cannot remember who said it: "Don't fear death, fear the unlived life." Artie had nothing to fear. He was good at many of the things he did. He was exceptionally good at two of them: directing television broadcasts and living life.

I am not surprised to see how many people have come here today, but he would have been. I know that you, Marla, Scott, and Jill, have been surprised by the size and dedication of Artie's Army. By now, you know how deeply we loved him and how much we miss him bursting into our lives every day.

I think “bursting” is exactly the right word. He never walked into a room. He burst into it, already in mid-sentence, talking about whatever was on his mind. Artie was an open book. He reported his life story as it happened to everyone around him, especially in his control room, where he had his audience trapped. You had no choice but to listen to what was on his mind, although most people wanted to hear it anyway.

It was completely unfiltered. Everything came streaming out. We knew what made him angry, how well his stocks were doing by the minute, and what he liked or disliked about 60 Minutes the night before. We knew he did not like being told what to do. We knew he marched to the beat of his own drummer. We knew titles did not impress him. We also knew he had a special aversion to CBS News vice presidents. Not all of them, but many.

His running narrative included every member of his family. Jill and Scott, he talked about your weddings, your in-laws, and your children. Scott, he was incredibly proud of your accomplishments. Jill, he was thrilled when you began building nearby. He talked about his boat, his garden, his river, his role as harbor master, and, of course, Marla.

I remember him saying, "How did I get this lucky? She's my mate, AND she's my best friend."

He once got into a dust-up with a vice president who wanted him to do something Artie did not want to do. So Artie did not do it. The vice president continued to push the issue, and Artie looked him directly in the eye and said, "I work for Don, I don't work for you."

Later, the executive quietly asked Artie to show him more respect in front of all those people. By then, things had cooled down, and Artie had reconsidered what he should say to that particular executive. So he said it: "Up yours!"

Artie knew he had complete job security. Nobody was ever going to fire Artie Bloom.

He was a great director. In fact, he was the best director, and he knew it. It came from his eye, his incredible taste, and his clear philosophy. He believed a director should never get in the way of the people in front of the camera. He did not believe in filling the screen with unnecessary production elements. Because of that, his broadcasts always had a simple elegance. He wanted the focus to remain entirely on the storyteller.

His talents went far beyond visual judgment. His energy and spirit filled the workplace. They spread to the correspondents and eventually made their way onto the air.

The scrappy kid inside Artie never disappeared. In that way, he was very much like Don Hewitt. Watching Don and Artie together was quite a spectacle: two scrappy kids yelling at the same time.

Another great spectacle was watching Artie direct special events. The major election broadcasts and summit events involved hundreds and hundreds of people. We all worked on them, and Artie was the Maestro. He was completely wound up and proudly strutting his stuff.

Watching him work in that setting was the best ticket in town: take one, take two, screw you! He was in charge, and he loved every minute of it.

Joan Richman loved him too. She wanted him to become her number two in special events. She told him they could share all that power and decide together which of 500 people would do what. It was a serious offer, but Artie turned her down.

He remembered telling her, "The only power I want is the power to be left alone to do my job," and he truly meant it.

He also turned down an offer from Roone Arledge. Instead, he remained at CBS, and Richard Liebner helped him secure a major contract that ensured he and his family would be comfortable for the rest of their lives. Richard, what you did for him during these last few years meant a great deal to him.

Artie did say yes to one offer from a CBS president named Burke. Burke asked him to become assistant to the president, which meant he would be somewhat responsible for the overall look of the news division.

The following day, Artie arrived wearing a jacket and tie. I think he dressed that way mostly because he was having his publicity photo taken. Still, the whole thing looked wrong. He seemed deeply uncomfortable. He also made the mistake of stopping by 60 Minutes that morning, where we made fun of him before he marched over to the front office, a place where he did not fit in at all.

Within a few weeks, he marched back wearing his jeans and loafers and announced to Burke that the job was not for him.

He never wore a tie again.

I think about Artie often. I think about why I miss him so much, and this is a major part of it. He was entirely comfortable with who he was. He knew exactly what he liked and what he disliked. He was tough, direct, and always willing to tell you what was on his mind. There was no BS.

He could be serious, but he never took himself too seriously. More than anything, I loved spending time with him. Life is not as much fun without Artie Bloom around.

Alicia told me this week that the reality hit her on Sunday. Never again would he bounce through that side door in 33 with his "big" energy. Sometimes, she said, it is the silly little things that affect you the most.

I leaned heavily on Artie for his taste and judgment, and he offered both freely. He advised me whenever I changed jobs at CBS News, especially during my most recent move, when I took Don's place.

Artie kept repeating the same line to me, one he had borrowed from Reagan: "It'll be great, they'll stick with you through thick and thin."

I would play along and say, "Hey Artie, what happened to thin?"

He would answer, "Welcome to 60 Minutes."

60 Minutes meant a great deal to him. He was still such a kid when Don had the foresight to choose him, and the program became part of Artie. It became part of who he was.

He focused on the broadcast's appearance and feel, working closely with Bobby Carujo. Artie constantly gave Bobby credit for his brilliant artistic contributions. Yet Artie cared just as deeply about the content and the spirit of the place.

He loved its feistiness. He loved the push and pull over this line or that line. He loved the collaboration and even the fighting, because it was all done in the interest of improving a story and making the broadcast better.

It was only during the last seven or eight years that Artie became disenchanted with 60 Minutes. He believed the healthy push and pull had broken down and turned into something unhealthy. He felt the place had become overwhelmed by traits he could not stand: selfishness and self-importance.

He found refuge in 33, where he could do his work surrounded by his friends in a familiar atmosphere. There, he could check his stocks, tease his pals, bark out orders, laugh often, and work on something that mattered greatly to him: his Prick of the Year Award.

The award was important because it allowed him to say something to a person on our broadcast, usually someone he respected: "Knock it off, you may not know it, but you are behaving badly."

He delivered the message with humor, but we all understood that part of it was not a joke.

Those of you who do not work on our broadcast should know that several multiple Prick of the Year Award winners are here with us today. Artie did not always announce an official winner. He often preferred announcing candidates.

Once, he threatened to make me a candidate to become a candidate.

In recent years, Artie took the award to a completely new level. He introduced a new category: Prick of the Year Lifetime Achievement Award.

I promised him that I would continue his tradition of naming a Prick of the Year Award recipient at 60 Minutes.

Artie, wherever you are, you should know that this year we have a particularly robust crop of candidates.