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Instead of the error some TV anchors made of babbling constantly through special coverage of a presidential inauguration or a moon walk, Cronkite had mastered the intentional pause, the need for frozen seconds of long silence at certain historic moments.
When the camera went dead, Cronkite, no longer an anchorman, shoved his glasses in his pocket, moved a pencil a few inches, glanced at a stopwatch, popped a stick of gum into his mouth, and threw his script in the air like confetti. “School’s out!” he said. And then he left the building.
