If you have ever tuned into CBS’s Sunday program “60 minutes,” you will have most likely been subjected to well- researched, objective reporting on a myriad of topics. At least for about the first 57 minutes.

Since 1978, each show saved its final words for a segment entitled “A Few Minutes with Andy Rooney.” 

These small installments made Andy Rooney a household name. 

This segment remained a regular part of the broadcast (with the exception of a few temporary removals) until Oct. 2. He continued writing on his own until his death on Nov. 4, at the age of 92, from surgical complications.

In the last minutes of the show, he could share his opinion about pretty much anything — modern art, recent events, even paper-weights. The variation suggested that no subject was safe from his commentary. 

His segment was taped in his very own office. Rooney spoke directly to the camera in front of a backdrop of the unstaged clutter of his workspace where he hunkered down to write, as if he had taken a break from composing to record, and would continue as soon as the camera stopped rolling. 

It was in this unassuming setting that Rooney brought usually ignored topics to the table (in his case, a wooden desk, which he custom built and proudly choose to talk about once on the show). 

These topics were generally relatable to the CBS network audience. His opinion on the matter, however, garnered different reactions. Whether his audience agreed or not, they were forced to become momentarily more aware of something that otherwise would be forgotten amid the lofty subjects of major news. 

What exactly gave Rooney the unique credentials to rant so freely and have his rants broadcast so widely?

Despite his informal manner, he was a seasoned journalist. 

He began his career writing for the WWII publication Stars and Stripes, and then moved on to penning the scripts for such well-established networks as CBS and PBS. After earning a reputation for himself, he spent his later years pursuing topics of personal interest.

He published books, such as “Common Nonsense,” and created TV specials, one of which — “Mr. Rooney Goes to Washington” — even earned him the prestigious Peabody Award for journalism in 1975.

Rooney also believed his commentary reflected the majority of America.

“The things I write and read on television are for average, everyday Americans, I mean, like myself, or so I think,” Rooney once said.

But, inevitably, his statement did not resonate with all Americans.

He certainly was not always agreed with. But it was this very unapologetic style that kept him interesting amid a (sometimes painfully) objective world of news.

He criticized the media’s fixation with being neutral, because, as he saw it, the audience will always be biased. 

He once said, “People will generally accept facts as truth only if the facts agree with what they already believe.”

His opinions were known to pack a shock factor, and sometimes that was their appeal. However, in many instances, his outspoken nature crossed the line rather than toed it. “60 Minutes” revoked his segment many times because of racist, sexist, and homophobic comments he said on and off the air, but the ratings always plummeted until his return. The public cast him in a negative light, yet could not get enough of “America’s favorite curmudgeon,” the unofficial title he garnered.

And for this exact genuine nature, America should commemorate the career of Andy Rooney.