Activist at the FCC?

SOON after President Nixon delivered his Viet Nam speech on television two weeks ago, the three networks received an unusual personal request from Dean Burch, new chairman of the Federal Communications Commission. Burch wanted to see transcripts of the discussion programs that followed Nixon's address. Immediately. Since the transcripts would have reached FCC offices routinely within 30 days, the new chairman was obviously showing something more than casual interest. Last week broadcasters learned how much more. Endorsing Spiro Agnew's attack on network news as "thoughtful" and "provocative," Burch delivered a not-so-subtle reminder that the FCC has the potential--and in fact the duty --to wield enormous influence on U.S. television.

Burch shrugged off his display of interest as "the easiest way to get the information." Moreover, he carefully re-emphasized Agnew's disclaimer of any notion of Government censorship and, like Agnew, said that change should come from public pressure and the industry itself. -

Burch is nothing if not adaptable. At Du Pont-Columbia broadcast award ceremonies last week, he declared in his first speech as FCC chairman that "the finest hour of television is in its news and public-affairs reporting." In fact, he came on more as the Hugh Downs of TV officialdom than a fighting critic. "Unthinking criticism, in my opinion, is a cop-out," said Burch. "We must not contribute to an atmosphere in which each party to an issue tries to outshout the other so that neither is heard." He frankly admitted that he did not have "all the answers to the problems of the communications industry" and suggested that no one else did.

Nor, until last week, did his appointment give any hint that the White House was unhappy with television's point of view. Nicholas Johnson, the commission's most outspoken liberal (who has also called for more public involvement in TV), recently criticized Nixon for clearing Burch's appointment with broadcasting honchos before announcing it.

The son of a federal prison guard, Burch worked his way through the University of Arizona's law school, graduating in 1953. Taking his first trip east of the Mississippi, Burch went to work for Senator Barry Goldwater in Washington a year later as an administrative assistant. Among other things, Goldwater taught the young lawyer how to fly an airplane. In 1964, Burch served as a deputy director of Goldwater's presidential campaign and later as Republican national chairman. His tall, rugged good looks (a colleague recently called him the "Marlboro Man from Arizona") and breezy Western manner made him one of the more personable figures in Goldwater's campaign. Burch has gained the reputation of being a skilled organizer and an imperturbable man in the face of ridicule.

His sudden change of tone on TV news broadcasting raises the possibility that in last week's statement Burch was simply backing up a political friend. Even so, if the friend happens to be Vice President and is determined to curb TV dissent, the implications are that the friend has the Tightest man in the right job at the right time.

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