Debra Pickett

But these days, he says, "diabetes has gotten my attention."

So the filet mignon that would have been his choice is off limits. And he orders instead the Dutchie's Salad -- a not-quite-dietetic concoction featuring bleu cheese crumbles and candied walnuts -- and washes it down with three Diet Cokes, while warily eyeing the bread basket and pretending not to mind its presence.

DuMont, the Chicago journalist who is the founder, president and CEO of the Museum of Broadcast Communications, is not one for small appetites or subtle emotions.

Brought up idea in '82

His mood this afternoon is anxious: The Jan. 31 "drop-dead" date for the next round of construction financing for the museum's new River North home is fast approaching, and DuMont says he has been expecting to receive $8million in funds pledged by the Blagojevich administration for months now.

"If the state keeps its promise, we'll be open this year," he says, for the first time of many. The phrase has become a mantra for DuMont, who, since retiring from his post as WTTW's senior political analyst, has devoted himself full-time to the museum.

The idea for the museum came to him when, back in the late '70s and early '80s, he was the producer of Lee Phillip's "Noonbreak" show on Channel 2.

"I'd go back in the archives when I was researching something," he says, "and there was this treasure trove of material to sort through, but it wasn't being preserved in any particular way."

He brought up the idea of a broadcast museum at a 1982 meeting of the Board of Governors for the Chicago chapter of the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences. "They gave me $250 to cover cab fare and lunches," he says, recalling his days as a one-man exploratory committee.

Three years later, the museum opened in its first home in the River City development.

DuMont -- whose uncle Allen was an early television innovator and ran the DuMont television network, an early fourth network that launched the careers of Jackie Gleason and Mike Wallace and was best known for its low-budget space adventure show for kids, "Captain Video," and for the inspirational broadcasts of Bishop Fulton J. Sheen -- has an obvious personal stake in the history of broadcast media.

But he says he's eager to have the museum do more than just preserve the artifacts of early television.

Oprah pitches in

"When people think of what we are," he says, an unfolded napkin spread over his ample belly, "it's, 'oh, that's where Bozo is' or 'they have Howdy Doody,' but our mission is much larger than that."

A grant from Oprah Winfrey is helping the museum digitize its collection of television reports from the civil rights era, DuMont says, and that archival material will be an invaluable resource for historians and researchers.

Beyond that, DuMont hopes the museum will serve as an incubator for new media projects, especially those produced by schoolkids.

"I know what can happen when you walk into a TV studio at 10 years old," he says, misting up just a bit.

'Good old days' resonates

He remembers taking a trip east to attend his father's 30th reunion at the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, N.Y., and stopping in New York City for the "boss' nephew tour" of the DuMont television studios. He met his hero, Captain Video, that day. "I fell in love with TV, and I never wanted to do anything else," he says.

DuMont is tucking into his salad, making sure to get all the walnuts, as Frank Sinatra's "Chicago" begins to drown out the chatter of the late-lunch crowd.

Still the host of a weekly talk radio show -- "Beyond the Beltway" is heard at 6 p.m. Sundays on WLS -- DuMont traces his interest in politics back to childhood, as well.

"It began in the front seat of a '48 Plymouth," he says, recalling the discussions he and his father would have after listening to Paul Harvey on the radio while driving to school.

He's clearly trying hard not to wax too nostalgic -- and DuMont manages to rack up an impressive four mentions of the iPod and its implications for media during our conversation -- but he's also someone for whom the phrase "good old days" really resonates.

There was a time, of course, when television watching was a family affair and when broadcast icons, like Howdy Doody, were cultural touchpoints that virtually everyone shared. DuMont knows it isn't like that anymore, and he isn't quite sure what to make of the new broadcast landscape.

"I keep saying we have to hurry up and open this place," he says, not entirely joking, "before it becomes obsolete."

Another Annenberg needed

This sends him back to worrying about that $8 million he's counting on.

The museum, which was housed in the Cultural Center before construction began on its new home, has faced fiscal crises before, he says, like the time in 1988 when they were contemplating budget cuts and staff reductions, only to be saved by a windfall donation from philanthropist Walter Annenberg.

For now, the museum exists primarily online -- its site, www .museum.tv, got 4 million hits last year -- while DuMont works to secure the rest of the funding for its new home at State and Kinzie.

"We're going to have another Annenberg moment soon," he says with a hungry tone in his voice. "I know we are. We have to."

Note: On Friday afternoon, three days after lunch, DuMont received word that the state funding will come through. The museum is now set to open later this year.