The Most Honest Man in News

One of Olbermann's first jobs out of college was as a sportscaster at a startup radio network attempting to appeal to listeners under twenty-five. Management encouraged Olbermann to indulge in wacky on-air bits, like having a competition to see which athlete said "you know" most frequently during interviews. "Micheal Ray Richardson, the basketball player, won that one," Olbermann recalls. "But there was a controversy, because it turned out he was a stutterer, and instead of stuttering he'd taught himself to say 'you know'; so he got eighteen of them out in, like, seventeen seconds."

CNN eventually took notice and hired Olbermann. In 1992, he moved to ESPN's SportsCenter, which became a cultural phenomenon: Sports fans ate up Olbermann and co-host Dan Patrick's funny, quick-witted reinvention of the musty end-of-the-day highlight reel. Five years later, Olbermann left ESPN under a cloud of stories about how he'd become a nightmare to work with. Much of the acrimony was documented by sportswriter Mike Freeman in ESPN: The Uncensored History; one of Olbermann's co-hosts, Suzy Kolber, recalled locking herself in the bathroom and weeping because of the way Olbermann treated her. Upon the release of Freeman's book, Olbermann wrote a long apology to his former co-workers, chalking up his tantrums to a deep-seated insecurity. "I have lived much of my life assuming much of the responsibility around me and developing a dread of being blamed for things going wrong," he wrote. "Deep down inside I've always believed that everybody around me was qualified and competent, and I wasn't, and that some day I'd be found out."

"Keith had this knack for pissing people off," admits Patrick, who has known Olbermann for twenty-three years and who still co-hosts an afternoon sports-radio program with him. "He pissed me off a lot. But at the end of the day, he'd make great TV. He could be upset about the littlest thing, or fighting management about something, but I think he worked better if he had a pebble in his shoe. I don't know if he sought out controversy or things that might bother him for that reason. But if he was agitated or uncomfortable, I always knew he'd be great.

"It makes me wonder," Patrick continues with a chuckle, "what he'll do if there's a Democrat in the White House."

After lunch, Olbermann takes the A train downtown to a radio station above Madison Square Garden, where he broadcasts his portion of Patrick's show. "When I started doing the radio show, I started taking the train again," he says, swiping his MetroCard through the turnstile. "It makes me feel like a human being. Someone from the New York Daily News called the office and said, 'Is it true you took Olbermann's car service away? Someone saw him riding the subway!' "

We make it to the station ten minutes before airtime. Olbermann, who has done no preparation for the show, slips off his jacket, revealing a pair of blue suspenders, and sits in front of the microphone. A hardcover edition of Clay Aiken's memoir, Learning to Sing, is propped on a ledge across the room. There's also a pile of LPs on the floor (on top: Bruce Willis' The Return of Bruno) and a box labeled "box of crap we'll never use," with a large stuffed-animal monkey sticking out.

The station manager pokes his head in the door. "Geraldo's on line two," he jokes.

"Answering phones now, is he?" Olbermann asks.

Patrick, who is broadcasting from Arizona, comes on the line. He greets Olbermann by his on-air nickname, "KO" -- pun, presumably, intended -- and says, "I saw Geraldo talking about you the other night."

"Where'd you see him -- playing banjo on the street?" Olbermann says. "They canceled his show."

Patrick chuckles and says, "I saw him on O'Reilly. I thought he was saying he'd found his niche."

"No," Olbermann says, "it was 'itch.' Turns out it was in his mustache."

Olbermann clearly relishes his feuds and doesn't seem to worry much about sparking new ones. When I ask him why he thinks Katie Couric's stint as CBS anchor isn't working, he shoots back, "It's simple. She's not good at it." (Asked if he'd take the gig himself, he says, "Of course. But I don't think they'd ask me." A few weeks later, MSNBC extended his contract for another four years and announced that he will contribute reports to NBC Nightly News.)

Last June, the Daily News printed e-mail exchanges between Olbermann and hostile viewers. The host advised one correspondent to "go fuck your mother" and another to "kill yourself." He also told a fan that fellow MSNBC host Rita Cosby was "nice but dumber than a suitcase of rocks." Though the e-mails were meant to embarrass Olbermann, they only served to underline what people already know and like about him. It's hard to imagine Tom Brokaw even bothering to respond to an e-mail critic, let alone writing "you couldn't be stupider, wronger or dumber," but Olbermann's status as a loose cannon is a large part of his appeal, and the sizable ego he brings to the table makes him the perfect foil for the likes of O'Reilly.

"Keith's importance, to me, is as a truth teller," says Huffington Post founder and frequent Countdown guest Arianna Huffington. "I think the way he's been represented -- as leaning to the left or catering to the anti-Bush crowd -- minimizes what he has done, which is to ignore the traditional journalistic view of the anchor as referee and stop pretending there are two sides to every issue. That's not how it is. Sometimes the truth is on one side."

Now, when Olbermann takes the subway to work, strangers approach and thank him for doing a good job. President Clinton recently sent him a handwritten note of congratulations. "There was a blowback at first," Olbermann says, "but at a certain point the genius -- the unintentional genius -- of the American broadcasting system kicks in, which is, if you make them money, they don't care what you say."

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