Some years ago, I had my first – and last – on air encounter with William Donohue (who responds here to an NCR column), then not quite as well known as now. It was for a version of Chris Matthews’ Hardball, a show I rarely watched. My vantage point was the darkened studio of a local public television station in Kansas City, Mo., where I sat, plugged in only by an earphone as the show got underway.
My recollection is that for most of the next 20 minutes Mr. Donohue screamed. I had never quite met anyone like him. He shouted incessantly -- non sequiturs, insults, bromides, broadsides, a veritable firehose of mischaracterizations and conclusions all delivered at a decibel level that would have been outlawed in any other industry.
I must say I went home somewhat marveling at the man’s capability for delivering so little at such great volume.