Now Television Program

When Bill Moyers retired from the PBS newsmagazine "Now" last month, the program lost a little bit of star power and a lot of intellectual muscle. Since Moyers' departure, the program has reduced its length from one hour to a half-hour slot weekly and has abandoned its cushy New York studios to go on the road with new host David Brancaccio. On tonight's broadcast, "Now" introduces its latest change in the form of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the third child of the late Sen. Robert F.

When Bill Moyers retired from the PBS newsmagazine "Now" last month, the program lost a little bit of star power and a lot of intellectual muscle. Since Moyers' departure, the program has reduced its length from one hour to a half-hour slot weekly and has abandoned its cushy New York studios to go on the road with new host David Brancaccio. On tonight's broadcast, "Now" introduces its latest change in the form of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the third child of the late Sen. Robert F.

Judging from the way the Bush political machine has allowed only people who sign affidavits of support to attend his campaign events, it seems unlikely that George W. Bush would ever subject himself to being interrogated by Bill Moyers, one of his most persistent and persuasive critics. But if the unthinkable happened, what would the host of PBS' "Now With Bill Moyers" ask him?

Judging from the way the Bush political machine has allowed only people who sign affidavits of support to attend his campaign events, it seems unlikely that George W. Bush would ever subject himself to being interrogated by Bill Moyers, one of his most persistent and persuasive critics. But if the unthinkable happened, what would the host of PBS' "Now With Bill Moyers" ask him?

At exactly 7:30 p.m., the lights went out all over town. When they flashed back on 20 seconds later, the tiny farming community of Moorpark had entered the Atomic Age and the history books. On that cool autumn evening 36 years ago, the town of 1,100 became the first in the country to be lighted entirely with nuclear-powered electricity. The date was Nov. 12, 1957. "Everybody was pretty excited about it," recalled Barton Miller, Moorpark's postmaster at the time.

Unable to satisfy public hunger for speedy victory in Chechnya, acting Russian President Vladimir V. Putin on Monday announced a more modest triumph: the capture of one of the most notorious Chechen rebel fighters, Salman Raduyev. Raduyev was taken by surprise in the Chechen village of Novogroznensky on Sunday by the FSB, the main successor agency to the KGB, and flown to Moscow, where he was placed in an isolation cell in the high-security Lefortovo Prison.

Parts of old Moorpark look much the same as they did in the 1920s, and the area is still home to horse ranches and agriculture. But for one glowing hour in 1957, Moorpark was on the cusp of modernity as the first community in the United States to be powered by nuclear energy. Bright spots On Nov. 12, 1957, the lights went out in the town of then 1,100 residents. They came on 20 seconds later, fired by a sodium reactor in the Simi Hills. Edward R.

Burned by Boy Scouts, frozen by nuclear activists, serenaded by hundreds of schoolchildren and marketed to Japanese tourists, Old Glory took center stage Thursday on its official national holiday. From 83-year-old Floyd Foran's front porch to the newest star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the familiar patchwork of red, white and blue waved on, seemingly oblivious to the ongoing debate about its sanctity being waged in the nation's Capitol.

IT IS 10:03 on a summer Friday night, and along with her parents, 23-year-old Sharon Fisch er sits in the makeup room at Channel 9, waiting to make her talk-show debut on "John Barbour's Live Friday Night Talk Show" (a now-defunct television program). She is wearing a white cotton skirt and a turquoise-blue blouse, and her white earrings, shaped like tree leaves, offset her frosted blond hair, which is worn in the manner of Vanna White.