It's rare that I read a book where I can personally verify the accuracy of its details. But I can say that Steve Oney’s On Air: The Triumph and Tumult of NPR is both insightful and fair. This is especially true in the section covering controversies and challenges during my time as chair of NPR’s Board of Directors. Oney interviewed me twice, and I can confirm that he quoted me accurately.
The book tells the story of National Public Radio. He covers NPR’s wild early days, its biggest scandals, and its lasting influence on media.
NPR began in 1970 with a group of young, ambitious reporters. Many were idealists shaped by the era’s social movements. They worked together, loved together (including adult activities in editing rooms) and did drugs together.
Women played a major role, a rarity in media of the time, breaking barriers in journalism. Susan Stamberg, Nina Totenberg, Cokie Roberts, and Linda Wertheimer—known as NPR’s “founding mothers” (a term I personally hate) helped change the industry.
The network covered major events like the Vietnam War protests, the Watergate hearings, and the Jonestown massacre. Programs like Morning Edition and All Things Considered became daily habits for millions.
But it nearly ended in 1983 when CEO Frank Mankiewicz, spent recklessly, pushing the network toward bankruptcy. Only support from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and congressional Democrats saved it. This crisis led to NPR relying more on corporate sponsors, a shift that still causes debate.
NPR faced criticism as its staff and audience largely reflected a specific type—liberal, well-educated, and white. Oney highlights tensions over race and class, especially in the careers of Black and Hispanic journalists like Adam Clayton Powell III, who headed the news division and political commentator Juan Williams. Williams’s firing in 2010 sparked national controversy, exposing NPR’s struggles with bias and internal politics. Unfortunately, this happened during my tenure on the Board.
Oney spent years researching the book and it tells many stories that listeners and loyalists my find surprising. Despite its effective narrative, there are parts that seem out of place. Theres an entire chapter on Ira Glass and his This American Life show. It's a good story, but it's not an NPR offering. There are many other popular NPR programs that receive no mention.
The book concludes that while the founding generation shaped the network’s identity it has been slow to step aside. Oney compares NPR to an aging rebel who refuses to adapt.
Key Excerpts
“We were all in bed with each other,” Deborah Amos recalled. “Everybody,” Bill Drummond added, “was fucxxng everybody else.” The proximity of so many young, single journalists, most of them new to Washington and everyone caught up in Mankiewicz’s adventure, turned 2025 M Street into a hothouse.
Along with the sex at National Public Radio came the drugs. “Damn near everybody in the organization was doing coke,” recalled John McChesney. All Things Considered producer Chris Koch was more emphatic: “There was an epidemic.” Astonishingly, many users were out in the open, placing their orders over 2025 M Street’s intercom.
Disturbing signs had been appearing all along, although they were hard to spot. Mankiewicz, for all of his vigor and skill, had never paid attention to NPR’s books, and at the moment he was unveiling the grandest business undertaking in network history, he was running the operation with a heedlessness that bordered on negligence.
Several weeks after learning of the $3.4 million shortfall, Mankiewicz received another call from Warnock—the deficit was nearly twice that amount. The NPR chief’s reaction was to demote his vice president.
Juan Williams was a rarity in the national press: Fox commentator, NPR senior news analyst, successful author (Eyes on the Prize, the companion volume to the Emmy-winning PBS documentary series; an acclaimed biography of Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall), and Black. On this mid-October evening in 2010, Bill O’Reilly needed him. “Look, Bill, I’m not a bigot,” Williams began. “You know the kind of books I’ve written about the civil rights movement in this country. But when I get on a plane, I gotta tell you, if I see people in Muslim garb and I think, you know, they’re identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous.”
Executives at NPR were furious at Williams. “This crossed the line for us at NPR,” recalled Vivian Schiller, at the time the network’s CEO.
In early November, several weeks after Williams’s dismissal, Slocum advised the NPR board to open an investigation. Typically, she would have led the probe, but because she was angry that Schiller and Weiss had ignored her advice to let the commentator’s contract expire, she didn’t feel she could be a fair judge. She suggested that the network hire the New York–based law firm Weil, Gotshal & Manges to dig into the management style of the two responsible executives and the back-and-forth between them. “They had done these kinds of reports for other organizations,” recalled Dave Edwards, manager of WUWM in Milwaukee and the newly installed chairman of the NPR board. Which meant that a battery of lawyers would scrutinize the network’s upper echelons. Since Weiss appeared to be the principal in the firing of Williams, most of the scrutiny would focus on her. Which meant the law firm would be examining the individual many felt was responsible for the successes that had taken the network to the journalistic heights.
Dave Edwards, the chairman, believed that Weiss and Schiller had been justified in dismissing Williams. “I’ve always been concerned when you have journalists appearing on programs, whether that be Meet the Press or something on Fox, and they’re asked to give their opinions,” he said later. “I think Williams’s departure was probably warranted.” Edwards also held a high opinion of Weiss. “I had known Ellen for a long time in her various capacities at NPR, and I had always respected her.” Yet as Yvette Ostolaza and her associates began to talk—and talk was all they did; fearing that a written report would leak, the firm did not distribute one—Edwards changed his mind. “It became very clear that certain things were not done in the way that you want to manage a news organization,” he later said. “The conversations that took place, the things that were said—there were just a lot of things going on that I was not aware of. I was surprised.”
There was more. As Edwards confirmed subsequently, the Weil report reviewed “other situations that had happened in the newsroom.”