Neil Cavuto: PHONY BALONEY -

Jewish World Review August 4, 2003 / 6 Menachem-Av, 5763 Neil Cavuto PHONY BALONEY! http://www.jewishworldreview.com | My father used to say, judge people not by the big things they say, but the little things they do. I wish he were around to see something startling I witnessed just the other night, while I was attending a financial event in New York City. Among the big chief executives and high-powered money managers in attendance was a prominent television anchor. I won't tell you his name, but I will tell you he talks often about small investors, about how he feels their pain and shares their concern. Gosh, I just took it as a given that he meant what he said and truly did have their interests at heart. Then I witnessed a small, some would argue even trivial, event that I can't forget even now. There were a couple of older women in the audience. They appeared to be in their 70s, and they just loved this anchor. I mean, "really" loved this anchor. You'd think they were groupies at a Rolling Stones concert. But no, they were there for this guy, and this moment, and this one opportunity to maybe get a picture with him and possibly an autograph. They thought their chance had come after he was done speaking (speaking about the sorry plight of gouged small investors, I might add). As he descended from the podium, one of the ladies approached him with a program from the event and what looked like one of those cheap, throwaway cameras. I was nearby, so I caught the whole scene. She immediately asked for an autograph. "Not right now," he blurted out. "Talk to my assistant. She's back there," as he pointed to a vast throng behind him. Immediately, I'm thinking, how is this poor woman going to know who the heck this assistant is? But hold on, it gets better. Her friend catches up and says, "Could we get a picture?" And just as brashly, he says, "I'm very late. I have to go." What a jerk. What a phenomenal, self-absorbed jerk. Maybe he was running late. Maybe he didn't like his chicken dinner (I had no problem with it, by the way, but then again, I rarely have a problem with any dinner at any time). Maybe he just didn't feel his speech went that well. Whatever the maybe, he was most definitely an imbecile. He couldn't be more indifferent, and he couldn't be more dismissive of the very folks he swears guide his broadcast. He was phony. He was smarmy. He was everything TV people often are condemned for being: in a rush to butter their own bread, but damn slow to acknowledge the people buttering it. If only my dad could have seen him. He probably would have said, "I told you so," because he used to say as I was getting into this business that it was the biggest risk in this business . . . that we all get "too big for our britches." He was right then. I think he's right now. That's why I prefer being paranoid and grateful than pompous and grating. And whenever I get ahead of myself I think of myself, about my relatively humble beginnings and the quick and cold realization I could always revisit them. Look, there's nothing wrong with enjoying a good life. There's everything wrong with forgetting the folks who made and make it possible. I've said it on my FOX News program quite often, but my dad also used to say, "Neil, stay humble, because in your case, it will come in handy." What I think he was telling me then came through loud and clear at this financial event the other night . . . not in the performance of the crowd that was there, but the buffoonery of the guy who failed to appreciate that crowd was the reason "he" was there.

In reader-friendly format:

My father used to say, judge people not by the big things they say, but the little things they do. I wish he were around to see something startling I witnessed just the other night, while I was attending a financial event in New York City.

Among the big chief executives and high-powered money managers in attendance was a prominent television anchor. I won't tell you his name, but I will tell you he talks often about small investors, about how he feels their pain and shares their concern.

Gosh, I just took it as a given that he meant what he said and truly did have their interests at heart. Then I witnessed a small, some would argue even trivial, event that I can't forget even now. There were a couple of older women in the audience. They appeared to be in their 70s, and they just loved this anchor. I mean, "really" loved this anchor. You'd think they were groupies at a Rolling Stones concert. But no, they were there for this guy, and this moment, and this one opportunity to maybe get a picture with him and possibly an autograph.

They thought their chance had come after he was done speaking (speaking about the sorry plight of gouged small investors, I might add). As he descended from the podium, one of the ladies approached him with a program from the event and what looked like one of those cheap, throwaway cameras. I was nearby, so I caught the whole scene.

She immediately asked for an autograph. "Not right now," he blurted out. "Talk to my assistant. She's back there," as he pointed to a vast throng behind him. Immediately, I'm thinking, how is this poor woman going to know who the heck this assistant is? But hold on, it gets better.

Her friend catches up and says, "Could we get a picture?"

And just as brashly, he says, "I'm very late. I have to go."

What a jerk. What a phenomenal, self-absorbed jerk. Maybe he was running late. Maybe he didn't like his chicken dinner (I had no problem with it, by the way, but then again, I rarely have a problem with any dinner at any time). Maybe he just didn't feel his speech went that well. Whatever the maybe, he was most definitely an imbecile. He couldn't be more indifferent, and he couldn't be more dismissive of the very folks he swears guide his broadcast.

He was phony. He was smarmy. He was everything TV people often are condemned for being: in a rush to butter their own bread, but damn slow to acknowledge the people buttering it.

If only my dad could have seen him. He probably would have said, "I told you so," because he used to say as I was getting into this business that it was the biggest risk in this business . . . that we all get "too big for our britches."

He was right then. I think he's right now.

That's why I prefer being paranoid and grateful than pompous and grating.

And whenever I get ahead of myself I think of myself, about my relatively humble beginnings and the quick and cold realization I could always revisit them. Look, there's nothing wrong with enjoying a good life. There's everything wrong with forgetting the folks who made and make it possible.

I've said it on my FOX News program quite often, but my dad also used to say, "Neil, stay humble, because in your case, it will come in handy."

What I think he was telling me then came through loud and clear at this financial event the other night . . . not in the performance of the crowd that was there, but the buffoonery of the guy who failed to appreciate that crowd was the reason "he" was there.

My father used to say, judge people not by the big things they say, but the little things they do. I wish he were around to see something startling I witnessed just the other night, while I was attending a financial event in New York City.

Among the big chief executives and high-powered money managers in attendance was a prominent television anchor. I won't tell you his name, but I will tell you he talks often about small investors, about how he feels their pain and shares their concern.

Gosh, I just took it as a given that he meant what he said and truly did have their interests at heart. Then I witnessed a small, some would argue even trivial, event that I can't forget even now. There were a couple of older women in the audience. They appeared to be in their 70s, and they just loved this anchor. I mean, "really" loved this anchor. You'd think they were groupies at a Rolling Stones concert. But no, they were there for this guy, and this moment, and this one opportunity to maybe get a picture with him and possibly an autograph.

They thought their chance had come after he was done speaking (speaking about the sorry plight of gouged small investors, I might add). As he descended from the podium, one of the ladies approached him with a program from the event and what looked like one of those cheap, throwaway cameras. I was nearby, so I caught the whole scene.

She immediately asked for an autograph. "Not right now," he blurted out. "Talk to my assistant. She's back there," as he pointed to a vast throng behind him. Immediately, I'm thinking, how is this poor woman going to know who the heck this assistant is? But hold on, it gets better.

Her friend catches up and says, "Could we get a picture?"

And just as brashly, he says, "I'm very late. I have to go."

What a jerk. What a phenomenal, self-absorbed jerk. Maybe he was running late. Maybe he didn't like his chicken dinner (I had no problem with it, by the way, but then again, I rarely have a problem with any dinner at any time). Maybe he just didn't feel his speech went that well. Whatever the maybe, he was most definitely an imbecile. He couldn't be more indifferent, and he couldn't be more dismissive of the very folks he swears guide his broadcast.

He was phony. He was smarmy. He was everything TV people often are condemned for being: in a rush to butter their own bread, but damn slow to acknowledge the people buttering it.

If only my dad could have seen him. He probably would have said, "I told you so," because he used to say as I was getting into this business that it was the biggest risk in this business . . . that we all get "too big for our britches."

He was right then. I think he's right now.

That's why I prefer being paranoid and grateful than pompous and grating.

And whenever I get ahead of myself I think of myself, about my relatively humble beginnings and the quick and cold realization I could always revisit them. Look, there's nothing wrong with enjoying a good life. There's everything wrong with forgetting the folks who made and make it possible.

I've said it on my FOX News program quite often, but my dad also used to say, "Neil, stay humble, because in your case, it will come in handy."

What I think he was telling me then came through loud and clear at this financial event the other night . . . not in the performance of the crowd that was there, but the buffoonery of the guy who failed to appreciate that crowd was the reason "he" was there.

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