Jim Lehrer remembers the work of Charles Kuralt.

Charles Kuralt one of the most distinguished voices in American journalism, died in New York City, July 4, from complications from lupus. He was 62 years old. Kuralt, best known for his "On the Road" dispatches and his "Sunday Morning" broadcast, joined CBS News in 1957.

Upon hearing of his death, President Clinton released a statement saying, "Charles Kuralt's extraordinary imagination and skill gave America a unique view of itself. He helped us see the beauty and strength of character of our small towns and countryside. In so doing, he brought all members of the American family closer together. His passing on Independence Day reminds us in a poignant way of God's gift that is America."

CHARLES KURALT: You can't drive very far on the back roads before you make a splendid discovery: America is not homogenized, not yet. Her accents are as different as her landscapes. That is the authentic sound of December in the Chesapeake Bay country, but take a gander at that old gander.

She's Erline Snow, who learned goose talk 60 years ago down home at Powells Point, North Carolina, and has been conversing with the Canada geese every autumn since. Hiroshi Naguchi doesn't fool around.

When he goes to work, his chain saw roars, his chisel flies, and the chips fall where they may. He brings fire to ice, creating masterpieces at room temperature on the homely loading dock of the elegant Hamilton Hotel. He has to work fast because while he's sculpting his sculpture is already beginning to melt. With much cheering and much hugging the nine children of Alex and Mary Chandler were coming home for their parents' 50th wedding anniversary.

All nine children have memories of a sharecropper's cabin and nothing to wear and nothing to eat. All nine are college graduates. How did they do it, starting on one of the poorest farms in the poorest part of the poorest state in America?

WOMAN: We worked.

CHARLES KURAULT: You picked cotton?

WOMAN: Yes. Picked cotton and pulled corn, stripped millet, dug potatoes.

CHARLES KURAULT: "I'll Fly Away" is the name of the old hymn. It is Mr. Chandler's favorite. His nine children flew away and made places for themselves in this country and this weekend came home again.

There probably are no lessons in any of this, but I know that in the future, whenever I hear that the family is a dying institution, I'll think of them. Whenever I hear anything in America is impossible, I'll think of them.

JIM LEHRER: A personal word about Charles Kuralt, if I may. Much is said, correctly, that those who deliver the news on television are truly and deservedly here today, gone tomorrow. Charles Kuralt will be an exception to that. He brought a uniqueness to his work that became a trademark that really will live forever.

A Charles Kuralt will always be a reporter who cares about the people who reports on and reports to, who knows how to smile with them and frown and cry with them, who writes with care and skill about them because he believes words matter as much, maybe more, than pictures, who believes not all the powerful people of America wear white shirts or long dresses and drive long cars down streets in New York or Los Angeles.

Some wear overalls and drive pickups on black top roads to places only they and Charles Kuralt had ever heard of or care about. Charles Kuralt did die today, but in the world of television news, he will always be here today. We say good night on this Fourth of July with his words, spoken when he left the CBS Sunday Morning Program three years ago.

CHARLES KURALT: Time for us to part, you and I. Saying goodbye to the viewers of Sunday Morning is like saying goodbye to old friends. That's the way I feel. Thank you for making me feel that way.

I aim to do some traveling and reading and writing, and to watch this program the civilized way for a change: in my bathrobe, while having breakfast. Charles Osgood appreciates poems and often commits poetry, himself.

There is a rhyme by Clarence Day which says what I want to say. "Farewell my friends, farewell and hail, I'm off to seek the Holy Grail. I cannot tell you why. Remember, please, when I am gone, ‘twas aspiration led me on. Tiddly widdly, tootle-lou, all I want is to stay with you. But here I go."

Goodbye.