On January 17, 1969, Eric Sevareid referred to news as "the other industry" in Washington. On other broadcasts he has said that politics and news were the capital's two businesses. His remarks reflect the fact that news and its related fields of public relations and lobbying have grown to mammoth proportions. Mr. Marbut places this "other industry" in perspective in his historical survey of reporting from the nation's capital. Of particular interest in this timely book is his analysis of the stresses and strains in reporting which have taken place in the last quarter-century, giving rise to such incidents as the U-2and the Bay of Pigs news imbroglios.

Roger Mudd joined CBS in 1961, and as the congressional correspondent, became a star covering the historic Senate debate over the 1964 Civil Right Act. Appearing at the steps of Congress every morning, noon, and night for the twelve weeks of filibuster, he established a reputation as a leading political reporter. Mudd was one of half a dozen major figures in the stable of CBS News broadcasters at a time when the network's standing as a provider of news was at its peak. In The Place to Be, Mudd tells of how the bureau worked: the rivalries, the egos, the pride, the competition, the ambitions, and the gathering frustrations of conveying the world to a national television audient in thirty minutes minus commercials. It is the story of a unique TV news bureau, unmatched in its quality, dedication, and professionalism. It shows what TV journalism was once like and what it's missing today.

At a time when the role of journalism is especially critical, the former executive editor of the Washington Post writes about his nearly fifty years at the newspaper and the importance of getting at the truth. In 1964, as a twenty-two-year-old Ohio State graduate with working-class Cleveland roots and a family to support, Len Downie landed an internship with the Washington Post. He would become a pioneering investigative reporter, news editor, foreign correspondent, and managing editor, before succeeding the legendary Ben Bradlee as executive editor. Downie's leadership style differed from Bradlee's, but he played an equally important role over more than four decades in making the Post one of the world's leading news organizations. He was one of the editors on the historic Watergate story and drove coverage of the impeachment of President Bill Clinton. He wrestled with the Unabomber's threat to kill more people unless the Post published a rambling 30,000-word manifesto and he published important national security stories in defiance of presidents and top officials. He managed the Post's ascendency to the pinnacle of influence, circulation, and profitability, producing prizewinning investigative reporting with deep impact on American life, before the digital transformation of news media threatened the Post's future. At a dangerous time, when health and economic crises and partisanship are challenging the news media, Downie's judgment, fairness, and commitment to truth will inspire anyone who wants to know how journalism, at its best, works.

In the vast literature on the way democratic governments work, the role of the press is often overlooked. Yet the press, no less than the formal branches of government, is a public policy institution and deserves to be included in explanations of the governmental process. In The Washington Reporters, Stephen Hess focuses on those who cover the U.S. government for the American commercial news media. His book is based on interviews with reporters and editors and on responses to questionnaires from nearly half of the over 1,200 American reporters in Washington. Analysis of these responses and comparison with the content and placement of over 2,000 of these reporters' news stories permit an unusual—and sometimes startling—perspective on Washington newswork. Mr. Hess demonstrates, for instance, how information in the news regularly comes from the legislative branch of the government, despite the greater number of stories on the presidency; and he shows that Washington news dominates the front pages of daily newspapers across the country, no matter how little may be going on in the nation's capital. The author concludes that "Washington news gathering fragments [media] power, while at the same time it shifts decisions on what is news and how it should be covered to the reporters." The import of this impression is that "reporters are not simply passing along information; they are choosing, within certain limits, what most people will know about government. The freedom given and assumed by these news workers affects the shape of national affairs."

"Who is Donald J. Trump? Despite decades of scrutiny, many aspects of his life are not well known. To discover Trump in full, The Washington Post assembled a team of ... reporters and researchers to delve into every aspect of Trump's improbable life, from his privileged upbringing in Queens to his ... 2016 rise to seize the Republican candidacy for president"--Dust jacket flap.

After a tsunami destroyed the cooling system at Japan's Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant, triggering a meltdown, protesters around the world challenged the use of nuclear power. Germany announced it would close its plants by 2022. Although the ills of fossil fuels are better understood than ever, the threat of climate change has never aroused the same visceral dread or swift action. Spencer Weart dissects this paradox, demonstrating that a powerful web of images surrounding nuclear energy holds us captive, allowing fear, rather than facts, to drive our thinking and public policy. Building on his classic, Nuclear Fear, Weart follows nuclear imagery from its origins in the symbolism of medieval alchemy to its appearance in film and fiction. Long before nuclear fission was discovered, fantasies of the destroyed planet, the transforming ray, and the white city of the future took root in the popular imagination. At the turn of the twentieth century when limited facts about radioactivity became known, they produced a blurred picture upon which scientists and the public projected their hopes and fears. These fears were magnified during the Cold War, when mushroom clouds no longer needed to be imagined; they appeared on the evening news. Weart examines nuclear anxiety in sources as diverse as Alain Resnais's film Hiroshima Mon Amour, Cormac McCarthy's novel The Road, and the television show The Simpsons. Recognizing how much we remain in thrall to these setpieces of the imagination, Weart hopes, will help us resist manipulation from both sides of the nuclear debate.