As someone who has worked in journalism in one form or another, off and on, since 1973, I have long viewed one Washington tradition as something of an oddity: the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.

The event traces its roots to the founding of the White House Correspondents’ Association in 1914. The group was formed after Woodrow Wilson threatened to end presidential press conferences, prompting reporters to organize with the goal of  protecting journalists access to the White House.

The first dinner was held in 1921, and Calvin Coolidge became the first sitting president to attend three years later. For decades, the gathering was largely an insider affair — a formal, closed-circle event where Washington’s political and media elite gathered for an evening of speeches, socializing and, increasingly, entertainment.

That entertainment has evolved significantly over time. Early dinners featured musical performances and lighthearted skits. By the late 20th century, the tone had shifted toward political satire, with performers poking fun at presidents, policymakers and the press itself. Many observers point to satirist Mark Russell and his 1983 appearance as a turning point toward the modern, comedy-driven format.

The dinner also reflects broader changes in American journalism. For many years, it was an all-male event — a reality that ended only after persistent advocacy by trailblazing reporter Helen Thomas. Her appeal to John F. Kennedy not to attend unless women were admitted helped force a change that opened the doors to female journalists in 1962.

Presidential attendance has become customary, though not universal. Richard Nixon skipped the dinners in 1972 and 1974. Jimmy Carter declined invitations in 1978 and 1980. Ronald Reagan missed the 1981 event while recovering from an assassination attempt just weeks earlier, though he addressed attendees by telephone.

More recently, Donald Trump broke with modern tradition by skipping the dinner throughout his presidency. The event itself was canceled in 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It returned in 2022, with Joe Biden attending — the first sitting president to do so since 2016.

Over time, the dinner has picked up the nickname “Nerd Prom,” a reflection of its blend of journalism, politics, celebrity and spectacle — tuxedos, gowns and television cameras included.

But in 2026, that spectacle was overshadowed by something far more serious.

Authorities say a man attempted to breach a security checkpoint near the dinner venue, reportedly armed and intent on carrying out a shooting. A law enforcement officer was injured but protected by a bulletproof vest. The suspect was taken into custody and hospitalized, and details about his background and motivations continue to emerge.

The incident underscores a sobering reality. What is often dismissed as a glitzy Washington social event is also a high-profile gathering of journalists, government officials and public figures — and therefore a potential target.

For many of us outside the Beltway, particularly here in the Midwest, the dinner can feel distant and somewhat disconnected from everyday life — a showcase of insider culture and networking that has little direct impact on our communities.

Still, the broader institution behind it matters.

The White House Correspondents’ Association continues to play a critical role in defending press access and, by extension, the First Amendment. That mission — not the dinner — is its core purpose.

The events of 2026 raise legitimate questions about security at high-profile gatherings, but they also point to something deeper. When journalists become targets, even symbolically, it reflects the growing tension surrounding the role of a free press in American life.

It is encouraging that no one was seriously injured. But it is also a reminder that the work of journalism — whether in Washington or in local communities like ours — carries responsibilities and, at times, risks.

The WHCA remains an important institution. The dinner, however, continues to strike me as a curious — and at times uneasy — blend of journalism, politics and spectacle.