My mother raised me to believe that speaking ill of the dead was needlessly provocative, and tacky to boot. Consequently, I’ve bit my tongue over the last six days as the news media and political establishment have assiduously one-upped each other in exalting recently deceased television personality Tim Russert as a combination of Walter Cronkite, Edward R. Murrow and Ward Cleaver.

My resolve weakened yesterday, when the Wall Street Journal op-ed page knelt before the altar of Russert via a story by Bernard Goldberg, a former newsman and author who has perhaps been more influential than anyone in promulgating the fiction of the Liberal Media. The title of Goldberg’s latest book, Crazies to the Left of Me, Wimps to the Right, succinctly lays out his own political prejudices, just as the title of his WSJ editorial, “Russert Took Media Bias Seriously,” neatly captures the motivation for his paean.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back was today’s edition of Tim O’Brien’s “the blog house” in the Star Tribune. After O’Brien’s own hagiographic intro, in which he says Russert’s “track record is unquestionably one of excellence. He was fair and tough. He set the gold standard…”, he goes on to cull the blogs for nothing but fawning citations. Thus we read Jim Wallis from the Huffington Post, whose excerpt begins, “Tim Russert was not only the premier political journalist in America, as everyone agreed…” and ends, “Tim Russert is a role model for every dad and mom, every uncle, aunt, godparent, teacher and coach; and every adult who realizes how much kids need people to love and teach them the important things of life.”

Notice in the two “blog house” examples I cite the notion that there simply can be no dissent from the notion of Russert as journalistic Godhead; that “everyone agreed” on his premiere position and that his excellence is “unquestionable.” As a journalist reading these words, I feel obliged to disagree.

More than enough words have already been expended on Russert, so I’ll make my rebuttal brief, and confine it to the most unimpeachable sources–sworn testimony and court documents.

In the perjury trial of Scooter Libby, Vice President Cheney’s former chief of staff, handwritten notes from Cheney’s former communications director Cathie Martin were displayed in the courtroom. The notes pertained to how Cheney could answer what were then growing allegations that the Bush Administration had overstated Iraq’s nuclear ambitions in the run-up to the war. Listing the pros and cons of which media outlets Cheney should frequent, Martin wrote that one advantage of appearing on Meet The Press, the show Russert moderated and the one most associated with his journalistic legacy, is that Cheney could “control message.”

“I suggested we put the vice president on ‘Meet the Press’ which was a tactic we often used,” said Martin, testifying under oath. “It’s our best format.” (Chris Steller has also cited Russert’s cozy relationship with Cheney–widely regarded as the most influential architect of our going to war in Iraq–earlier in the week on this site.)

Then there was Russert’s own sworn testimony during the Libby trial: “My personal policy is always off the record when talking to government officials unless specified.” This is a perversion of traditional journalistic ethics, which dictate that all conversations with any potential sources are on the record unless otherwise specified. Russert’s “personal policy” enabled the nation’s most powerful politicians to spin Russert in background conversation and then figure out exactly what they would or wouldn’t allow to be public information. That policy is closer to stenography than it is to journalism.

Tim Russert was hardly the worst journalist in Washington, and his death at age 58 is tragic for his many family and friends. But in rushing to canonize him, we demean the standards of his profession.