Anchors, male or female, can't hold us by Antonia Zerbisias

Among the media tomes lining the walls of the workstation are many hefty bios and autobios of network newscasters, including Barbara Matusow's gossipy, but incisive 1983 bestseller, The Evening Stars: The Making Of The Network News Anchor.

The inside cover breathlessly extols its subjects, as if the book was about electronic stealth bombers with the wealth, reach and power of a Bill Gates — which, in many ways, they were: "They enter our homes every evening. They command incredible salaries and Hollywood-style contracts. They shape our knowledge of the world. They influence our opinions more than any politician — and can do so with a mere flicker of an eyebrow. They are THE EVENING STARS."

Within are tales of U.S. presidents calling anchors in mid-newscast to complain about the lineup and stories of a nation mesmerized by speculation about who would land the coveted newscasting spots.

Ah, those were such innocent days, when people were afraid to undress in front of the TV for fear of being seen naked by NBC's long-running anchor duo, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley.

Back then, a TV news gig gave a guy a certain gravitas. Even if he squealed like a schoolgirl, he was assumed to be the voice of knowledge and authority.

More importantly, he played pastor to the people, reassuring them every night that it was safe to go to bed and that bad news didn't happen to good folk such as they. War, famine and pestilence only occurred in far-flung places like behind the Iron Curtain, or in starving Africa, or in the jungles of Central America or Vietnam, or anywhere the Palestinian Liberation Organization hung out.

As Don Hewitt, the man who practically invented TV news, coined the word "anchor," and ran CBS' 60 Minutes from its inception until they pushed him out the door last spring, once observed: "A television is several things. Sometimes it's a cinema. Sometimes it's a sports arena. Sometimes it's a newsroom. Sometimes it's a chapel. And it's where America goes at moments of stress. Americans don't turn to Billy Graham and Oral Roberts; they turn to Dan Rather and Peter Jennings and Tom Brokaw, and what they say is, `Tell us everything's going to be OK.'"

Which is why, in 1960, Hewitt put Walter Cronkite in the anchor chair, giving grown-ups their own "Uncle Walt" to match the kiddies' Walt Disney.

Well, Tomorrowland has come and a lot of it has been spent looking into the great future behind the network stars. There has been much media rumination over last week's final sign-off by NBC's Tom Brokaw after nearly 23 years. And of course, last month, there was the not unexpected news that CBS' Dan Rather was shuffling off to special assignmentville.

It's the end of an era, the pundits all lament. Like middle-aged mourners at the funeral of a friend, they know that the end is nigh for themselves — and so they decry the state of affairs that has fragmented audiences and scattered viewers to bloggers and cable news hawkers.

No question, the U.S. network newscasts are losing ratings and influence at an alarming rate. In 1990, some 40 million Americans watched the early evening programs. Today about 90 per cent of viewers never tune in.

In Canada, CBC's 10 p.m. edition of The National has slid alarmingly from its 1980s highs. Even powerhouse CTV News With Lloyd Robertson, bolstered by ratings-champ lead-ins such as the CSI franchise, is off.

Hard to believe that, just 17 years ago, apocalyptic headlines were devoted to whether CBC's Peter Mansbridge would abandon his home and native land for a big fat job in the U.S.

Now, not only do viewers have 24/7 news channels and constantly updated web pages that are available at the click of a finger, they also have business news channels and health news channels, science news services and celebrity news services.

There's news, news, everywhere, offering much more information than any of us has time for, or can absorb. What's more: It's packed with junk, screamfests and entertainment masquerading as journalism.

All the same, even though the "Evening Stars" don't dominate the infosphere as they once did, notes Time magazine's Margaret Carlson, the newscasts have not sunk low enough for women to captain them.

"The best hope women have of getting the top job is that the top job isn't what it used to be," she observed in a column for the Los Angeles Times last week. "When a job is sufficiently devalued, a woman can have it."

Equally angry that no woman was in the running, the New York Times' Maureen Dowd took a different tack.

"Those guys are hard to kill off," she wrote. "Women told me the nightly news was an anachronism, so why shouldn't the anchor be? `Caring about having a woman in the showcase or figurehead role seems so '80s,'" one said.

Here in the United Blue States of the Most of Canada, we're more likely to have women network anchors than they are south of the border.

CBC has the estimable Alison Smith able to leap into Mansbridge's custom-designed chair while, over at CTV, Lisa LaFlamme could easily step into Robertson's spot, assuming he's not welded to it — which he might well be.

But, whatever country we're talking about, it's not likely women are going to bust through that glass ceiling any time soon, at least not until the roof falls in on network news.

That said, it's already crumbling — and the sun is setting on the evening stars.

© Toronto Star