Dave Walker, who writes on the entertainment industry for the Times-Picayune, this week is devoting four columns to the anchors of the Big-3 networks, plus Shepard Smith of Fox. Tuesday was Katie Couric. Wednesday–today–was Brian Williams. You don’t have to read far to see why this man Williams is so appreciated in our city.

Anchor for the NBC Nightly News since Tom Brokaw retired, Brian Williams was in New Orleans during and after Katrina. Ever since, he has almost single-handedly kept New Orleans and the Gulf Coast before the American people. For his troubles, he has received accolades from us and barbs from critics.

Just after completing the one-year anniversary of Katrina broadcast last Tuesday evening, he told Walker, “I’ve just gotten off the air, and there’s no question that if I check my computer, I’ll have a number of people already writing to complain, using very blunt language, promising not to watch anymore, saying, ‘I’m going to a network that isn’t Katrina-obsessed.'” Williams said, “I counter that by saying, ‘If you were in that Dome with that nice guy who was in charge of special-needs patients, if you saw what we saw in that Dome’–it’s almost as if we wear a tatto visible only to other members of our sect.”

He adds, “It welded me to this story and this city.”

Katrina fatigue assumes many manifestations. Those who live here under the oppression of a lethargic city government and amid neighborhoods that have died and need drastic help, we have one brand of Katrina fatigue. Those who work night and day gutting out houses and rebuilding them, sleeping on cots and eating whatever is handy, they have their unique strain of this fatigue. But the kind Brian Williams encounters is the carping, belly-aching, groaning of viewers who are tired of watching more scenes from our neighborhoods, more interviews with our politicians, and more in-their-own-words from our hurting, frustrated residents.

It’s the latter group of Katrina-fatigued Williams addresses. “Katrina fatigue, I believe, is a syndrome among those who were not here for those first five days or for those first five weeks.” In other words, those who don’t know what they’re talking about are the ones griping, the ones ready to quit and move on to other things.

Every pastor knows their cousins. They congregate in church foyers before and after worship services to undermine their leaders. They’re tired of hearing about evangelism or stewardship or Bible study. Their preachers are always needling them to get involved and they’re fed up.

All of this brings to mind something that happened in my little church in Greenville, Mississippi, the Sunday after Martin Luther King was assassinated. As with thousands of other pastors, I changed my sermon and addressed the racial situation in America and our personal role in it. One of the matrons in our congregation walked out in the middle of the sermon, then called me that afternoon.

“What are you preaching on tonight?” she said. “I want to know so I can decide whether to come back or not.” I told her, then asked what this was about. I was 28 and clueless about so much. She said, “I guess you noticed I walked out in the middle of your sermon this morning.” I honestly had not. Margaret used to say I was so intent on what I was saying you could dynamite the back of the building and I’d not notice.

She said, “We hear enough of the trouble and turmoil in the world through the newspaper and the television and radio. We come to church for some peace and quiet.” I could not restrain myself. I laughed. “You come to church for peace and quiet? I had the idea people came to church to worship God and to hear His word. To repent of our sins and get our instructions as to how to live for Him in the world during the week. Maybe I was wrong.”

She did not show up that night. We do enjoy protecting our illusions.

Brian Williams said, “I arrived at the airport on Sunday (August 27, two days before the anniversary of Katrina) and within the first five minutes, three citizens walked up to me and said, ‘Thank you for all you’ve done.'”

Williams said, “I tell people who cover our industry they can write one of two articles. One is, there’s audience erosion and no one cares anymore. But if you’re going to write the other one, come with me to New Orleans and I’ll show you, in this day of media fragmentation, we have a story that has cut through and means something to so many people.” He continued, “I am happy to do it. I will keep coming back here as long as the company will let me.”

“Part of our charge (as a television news company) is to keep people’s feet to the fire,” he said. “We’re supposed to read back the speeches of politicians to politicians.” That is, to hold them accountable.

“Those people I just met on the street don’t have an advocate. That woman was saying, ‘You’ve gotta just do this. You can’t wait for the government. You can’t wait for permits. You’ve got to get yourself back up on your feet.'”

“Not to put too lofty a cast to it, but I have to be their advocate. I stick up for them and tell their story. Americans have got to realize they’ve got a stake in this city. I’m not just talking about if you love cooking and jazz music and the rich culture it’s given to us as Americans.”

“If you pay taxes, if you are an American citizen, you have an enormous stake in the recovery of this region.”

You see why we do love this man. Thank you, Brian Williams.