2013 was a pretty good year for Pulitzer Prize-winning podcaster and Peabody radio host Ira Glass. According to various reports, the American public radio network for which he worked (NPR) recommended raising his salary to $278,83 a year, about NIS 140,<> a month, roughly calculating the dollar exchange rate at the time. But surprisingly, Glass refused, even asking to reduce his original salary to about $<>,<> a year. Although not a starving wage, but much less than what was offered to him.
"I thought it was inappropriate to go to radio and ask listeners to donate money to public radio if I was making that much money. I just felt bad about it. The average American family was making about $50,60 or $<>,<> a year at the time, and the sums they offered me seemed like a lot of money."
Still, it's not an easy step, giving up part of your salary.
"Don't forget that the information about my salary was public at the time, and that made me uncomfortable. I felt much better after the refusal."
Glass, the host of the famed podcast This American Life, one of the top five listened to in the U.S. and around the world, has already been dubbed "America's Best Radio Host" and "Godfather of Podcasts." His show, which airs both as a podcast and on radio, and receives about four million listens a week, deals with a different topic each time, presenting a human American story, alongside in-depth field articles.
One such program was the same show that won him the first Pulitzer in history to be awarded to a radio show in 2020. The chapter in question was devoted to refugees in camps in Mexico, and included various interviews, testimonies of migrants imprisoned under then-President Donald Trump's deportation policy, and also provided an examination of testimonies of drug cartel activity.
"While there have been reports about immigration policy in the past, we were able to go in and explore the issue in a way that hadn't been done before, and make viewers understand what it's like to be an immigrant," Glass says. "One of the most powerful things about the program was hearing the officials accused of carrying out the policy say that they didn't sleep at night, because in a certain way they sent people to their deaths, in violation of the law. So yes, it had a special value. Because of that plan, U.S. immigration policy changed."
I guess you didn't dream of Pulitzer, certainly not in the context of your radio show.
"Well, no, simply because no one has ever won a Pulitzer for a radio show. For this purpose, the Peabody Prize was created, because radio broadcasters could not win a Pulitzer. The reason we created the content about these immigrants was because we thought it was an important topic."
And sometimes you're less serious. Your content is very diverse.
"In the end, we are human. There are weeks when we want to talk about the news, and there are weeks when we want to have fun. I think that's also what connects so many people to the show."
"When an interview goes well, and interviewees talk honestly about something that happened to them, and we understand each other in conversation, then it's hard not to fall a little in love. It's love that doesn't result in anything but an interview, of course. But it's a kind of love, without a doubt."
As an example, Glass cites an episode that was released for air in recent weeks, and dealt, well, with rats. "I live in New York, so not a day goes by that I don't see rats, especially dead rats on the street. And one of our producers found a story about a guy who, during the COVID-19 pandemic, saved a rat, and then started collecting rats. This caused him, for example, to avoid relationships, for fear that his partners would think he was weird."
I can imagine what such a plan sounds like.
"Among other things, we took two comedians who played the rats. I don't feel that this episode has contributed significantly to Western culture, but nevertheless - it's just a fun show to listen to. Like I said, we have less serious programs, along with more news programs, but at the end of the day, we're a story show that connects listeners to what's happening in America.
"Just a few weeks ago, we dealt with clinics in Florida that believe that the drug ivermectin, for the treatment of infections caused by parasites, helps treat COVID-15, contrary to scientific convention. So we met these people up close and tried to understand the story in depth. It's different from a situation where a news crew pulls out a <>-second quote in an edition."
Controversial drugs. COVID-19 vaccine appointment in Florida, photo: AP
"When they don't recognize me, that's an advantage"
Glass, 64, who is married without children and lives in New York, grew up in a Jewish home where the words of "hope" were taught. His mother was a clinical psychologist and his father worked in finance. His parents objected to him working in radio and dreamed of becoming a doctor or clinical psychologist, like his mother. "The feeling was that I was a smart and nice Jewish boy, so why shouldn't I be a doctor instead of choosing this thing that won't make money? Speaking of journalists, they wanted me to be on television, to really succeed. My choice of radio was seen as not ambitious enough."
Glass says that although his show was previously filmed for Showtime, the desire to appear on television doesn't tickle him. "I enjoyed doing television, and I think we did a nice job, but our show is more special as a radio show than a TV show."
Television is a less intimate format.
"That's exactly the word. That's exactly what you're giving up. It's also interesting, because our audience is much larger on radio than on television. And that's not something I realized until we made television. I naively thought that television was much more common than radio, but our radio audience, a week, is a little over two million people, and a little over two million people on the podcast. On television, where we were considered a hit, we would get between half a million and a million people a week, which was a great figure. The explanation is that cable television is simply smaller than the distribution of public radio in the United States."
Despite the show's television history and current success, Glass manages to walk the streets of New York fairly anonymously, and seems pleased with it. "I'm okay with not being known on the street. This seems like a plus. When people do recognize me, it means they're pretty serious fans, and they're usually charming and kind. But overall, I just live a normal life in New York, people don't recognize me, I ride the subway and bike to work. That's how I like it."
Stories also from the gutters. Manhattan, Photo: AP
He wakes up every morning at 6:30am, leaves for a running workout and continues to work, where he writes, edits, holds meetings and records programs. On social media, he is inactive ("Because I'm busy, and also because I don't need another medium for self-expression. I have other ways of reaching people"), and hobbies are, to him, "an old-fashioned idea. Maybe once or twice a week I have some time at night to watch TV, but most nights and weekends I work. From time to time I see friends, go to plays, play poker and invent small projects with friends, like this show I do in Jerusalem with a challenge," to which we will return.
His plans often sound very spontaneous, but in practice - scripted from beginning to end. "I'm not talented at making things up live," he explains, "and on the other hand, it has to sound natural, because you don't want to sound like a news anchor reading from a piece of paper. Sometimes I change words here and there as I speak, and sometimes the execution is word for word of what's on the page."
One of Glass's last episodes dealt with rats. "There's not a day in New York where I don't see rats. One of our producers found a story about a guy who collected rats during the pandemic. This caused him to avoid relationships, for fear that his partners would think he was weird."
It seems that the attachment to the text is a consequence of the anxiety that accompanies it. "Anxiety is a big part of my life. I worry that I will disappoint people, that I will not meet deadlines, that I will not be considerate enough towards my loved ones. I wish I had less than that.
"On the other hand, one of my friends once told me that he goes crazy when people say there is a version of adult life without much anxiety. There is no such thing, he says, unless something is wrong with you. So maybe anxiety is just an appropriate response to the responsibilities we have as adults."
More on anxiety, and ahead of your upcoming arrival in Israel: As a Jew - are you worried about what is happening in Israel?
"I would worry about it even if I wasn't Jewish. We are watching the State of Israel tear itself apart."
Mission: The Big Pike
Glass, as mentioned, will arrive in Israel as part of the Israel Festival (August 11-1), which includes international dance performances, performance, new public art, original works and more. He will hold two events: the first, "Half Baked Stories about My Dead Mother", in collaboration with author Etgar Keret, in which the two will focus on the maternal essence behind them, while incorporating stories about the mother figure. The second, "Seven Things I Learned," will deal with how passion, successes and failures shape the way and become compelling stories.
Glass with Etgar Keret, photo: from the film "Etgar Keret: Based on a True Story"
Indeed, there is an impression that his basic interest and motivation is in people's stories and behavior. "It's just like that," he confirms. "I wanted stories about ordinary people, but ones that were really compelling and engaging, that would make you wonder what was going to happen next. That's what gives the story enormous power. Our shows open when listeners are actually thrown into the middle of the story, and that attracts them to listen better."
I ask Glass what actually makes a good story; What is it about him, in the story, that makes us listen to him with thirst and want more and more from him. "A good story just has to be surprising, one you haven't heard before," he replies, "and that actually invalidates a huge number of stories. We do 'kill' a lot of stories, sometimes also because the speakers don't fit the radio. A good story can start with humor and become emotional, start with a small thing and continue to more meaningful elements in the world. And there are stories with great music, and it's hard to explain why it's great, but it's just like that."
It sounds like you're looking for a rollercoaster effect in the story.
"That's true. To be surprising. This is perhaps one of the reasons I loved working with Etgar Keret, because he is an amazing speaker, who says surprising, funny and incredibly poetic things. And he's also super amazing, so it's perfect for radio. For him, the stories about his mother may be the hardest thing he's ever written, but for me it's the easiest thing I've ever created, because every story of his, every little quote, is like a little bomb exploding."
Etgar's stories are indeed unique, and at the same time - we are in a period in which humanity produces the largest amounts of content in history, and the volume is only growing. How do you manage to produce meaningful content in times like these, and what is meaningful content at a time when everything is so accessible, available, immediate and temporary?
"I think it's okay that the content is temporary, disposable. When I was a radio producer in the news department, I saw it in real time – that is, news that circulates in the public sphere and then disappears. It happens, and it's okay on other levels of content, too. The question, to me, is what content can be considered a contribution, when so much content has been created in the world. Our tactic, as I said, is to combine things that interest and amuse us personally on the show with more serious, more newsworthy things."
How about many podcasts that have become a way of self-branding, without much content behind them? Does this phenomenon bother you?
"No, it doesn't worry me. The really good podcasts will always differ from those that do less good and interesting work."
This already leads me to another question: Why aren't the podcasts of the better-known stars necessarily the best?
"It's an interesting issue. I guess their fans are looking for something different from what is known and familiar to them."
His plans sound very spontaneous, but completely scripted. "I'm not talented at making things up live. On the other hand, I don't want to sound like a news anchor reading from a page. Sometimes I change words as I speak, and sometimes the execution is word for word of what's on the page."
Glass seems to be talking about the change in the new world of content, which is different from the world of traditional content, television and radio, in which various cultural figures have emerged. Thus, there is an impression that the new listening situation leaves behind traditional stars who have become accustomed to content in a different format, and are not necessarily eager to invest all their energy and time in a platform that will relatively not yield them, in many cases, sums of money and fame provided by a well-known television network, for example.
However, it appears that content evolution will force many of the new stars to spend more time cultivating their personal podcasts, given the growing number of podcasts. According to the International Podcast Index, there are 4,105,166 podcasts registered worldwide, a decline, apparently temporary, of about eight percent since December 2021.
In the U.S., 64 percent of the population has listened to a podcast at least once in their lives, and 42 percent of the U.S. population (over the age of 12) has listened to a podcast in the past month. Most podcasts last between 20 and 60 minutes, and at least in the U.S., focus primarily on the genres of comedy (22 percent), news (21 percent), true crime (18 percent), sports (17 percent) and health and fitness (17 percent).
What trend worries you in the podcast world?
"Honestly, I worry more about podcasts spreading fake news, even though it's a tiny fraction of all the fake news disseminated in the world."
Fake news is actually a more relevant problem for traditional journalism, and for you too – because you are at an interesting intersection between podcaster and journalist.
"I agree. The biggest challenge to journalism is the existence of an entire ecosystem of misinformation and factual information. When I started journalism in the '80s, there was a sense that if I documented something good, people would recognize its authenticity. Today, even when you document things perfectly and the facts are on your side, someone will make sure to come up with a set of alternative facts that don't recognize your story. And the mainstream press has not yet invented a tactic to combat this phenomenon."
Nightmare in the recording studio
When Glass talks about fake news, he seems to be talking about it from the blood of his heart, and for good reason. In 2012, his show aired an episode about Apple. "A talented guy who does monologues on stage, named Mike Daisy, talked on our show about supposedly appalling working conditions at Apple factories in China. He flew to China and talked to people who worked on the assembly lines. I wanted him to come and talk about what he saw, and before it went live, we did a fact-check.
"In fact-checking, we found reports that matched Daisy's story – except for one thing, which had to do with the employment of minors in factories. Daisy told us he couldn't verify it, but that's what he saw and heard from the interpreter who was with him."
And you decided to let him say it on air, because the investigation as a whole seems very credible to you.
"Yes. And after the episode aired, a reporter in China heard it and reached out to an interpreter that Mike Daisy had used in China, and in fact denied the story."
It's a nightmare for a journalist.
"That's right. After this episode, we invited Daisy again to talk about what happened, admitted the mistakes and re-clarified the facts. Honestly, after this episode I wondered if it was appropriate for us to continue broadcasting the show, after such a breach of trust in front of our audience. I'm glad we've since learned lessons, and moved from regular fact-checking to a team of fact-checkers."
"We learned lessons." iPhone manufacturing plant in China, 2010, photo: Archive, AP
How many people are currently working on an episode of the show?
"At first there were four of us, today it's about 20 crew members, and in any given episode there are about seven people. Over the years, we've had endless stories and interviewees."
"I wanted stories about ordinary people, but ones that were compelling and engaging, that would make you wonder what was going to happen next. That's what gives the story enormous power. Our shows open when listeners are thrown into the middle of the story, and that draws them to listen better."
You said that at some point you began to love your interviewees. How does this happen, and have you ever felt the opposite—disgust, for example?
"I don't know about disgust. As for love, when an interview goes great, and interviewees talk in an honest and vulnerable way about something that happened to them, and we really understand each other in conversation, like two people, then it's hard not to fall a little in love. It's love that doesn't result in anything but an interview, of course. But it's a kind of love, no doubt. If someone opens their heart and shares their true feelings and experiences, how can you not fall a little in love?"
Over the years, and even today, you have been a mentor to many young journalists. What advice would you give to journalists just starting out?
"Do what you're most interested in, or excited about, and do it now. Don't put it off until you get a better job or a better situation in your life."
You've turned This American Life into a leading, listened to and influential program. What else do you aspire to achieve, and how would you like to be remembered?
"The program has already had a very big impact. In many ways, she taught that you can make better stories, and that you don't have to choose between entertainment and revealing journalism. Many podcast presenters and journalists started doing 'storytelling journalism' in our style, with relevant characters and scenes, after seeing our model. That seems like a lot to me.
"As for how I will be remembered, I would like the people I love to remember me as someone who loved them and tried to act properly. As for how strangers will remember me - well, it doesn't matter that much. Now I may need the approval of strangers to continue my program, but I won't need it anymore when I'm gone."
Ranp@israelhayom.co.il
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