Elmo 1997-2009

As some of you know, my wife Ellen is in the cat rescue business.  It would follow that we would have a few felines of our own and that it is true.  In fact, 11 cats share our home along with a myriad of stray, homeless and abandoned cats every year.  The visitors are housed in guest quarters in the basement.

In 1997, when we lived in Columbus, Ohio, a young male stray was brought to us who had been found by some truckers by the side of a highway.  He had been burned with cigarettes and was generally in bad shape.  Ellen restored him to health and we spent six months holding him on our laps as we watched television so that he would learn to trust humans again. The strategy paid off because he relaxed and became part of the gang. We named him Elmo.   

In 1998, When we retired to the North Fork,  Elmo began to gain weight.  We really don't know why as he didn't eat any more than his 11 brothers and sisters, but he ultimately weighed in at 23 pounds.  He was a big but gentle guy. Because of his girth, there were places on his body where he could not reach in order to clean himself, so the others took over that task for him.  Suffice it to say that the others must have really loved him.

Over the years, Elmo became the official greeter at our house.  When visitors arrived, he would jump onto the kitchen table and roll over on his back exposing his belly to all the petting and scratching our friends, workmen and any other category of visitor were willing to provide.

On one occasion, we had a chimney fire requiring us to call the fire department.  The firefighters arrived quickly and marched into our kitchen where the first thing they encountered was Elmo flat on his back awaiting their undying attention and affection. The fire, which had pretty much gone out, was almost ignored by Riverhead's bravest as they attended to Elmo's inviting belly and purr.  He was like that with almost anyone who came to visit.

The short of this is that about two weeks ago Elmo died.  If this appeared in an obituary in a newspaper it would have said, Elmo, age 12 died after a brief but valiant bout with cancer.   He is survived by his 11 brothers and sisters.  Cremation was private at the Mattituck/Laurel Veterinary Hospital.  Friends are asked to plant a bulb or flowering shrub in their yard in his memory.

Goodbye, Elmo.  We will be interviewing greeters for a long time before we can find anyone who can fill the job as well as you did.

Paul Harvey.....Good BYE

As many of you know, Paul Harvey died yesterday at age 90.  I met Paul a few times both during my career at ABC and other broadcasting companies.  What you heard on the radio was what you got when you met him in person.  The voice was his and not an on-air affectation and he was as down to earth as you would expect this personification of a midwesterner to be.

To my knowledge, he was the only ABC personality who had final say over which commercial products were advertised on his program because he felt that since he was reading the commercial, he had to approve of the product.  Not much of a problem you might think, but one day he turned down the American Dairy Council.  He just had a feeling that milk was not good for us.  This was before the cholesterol days. The sponsors said, "Ok, how about skim milk?"  It was still milk as far as Paul was concerned and it did not get on the air on his program.

Dr. Scholl's products didn't get on the air either because although Paul didn't have a problem with the products, he had never used any of them because he had no foot maladies and had no way of assuring the listeners from personal experience that the products were any good.

ABC built his own studio for him in Chicago.  It was used about an hour a day.  He didn't  like the one he had originally because it had turntables  in it and "people who use turntables," he said, "smoke and I don't want that smell in my workspace."  He was ahead of his time.  It is no wonder that he lived to be 90.

In my early days as a disc jockey, I worked the 10 AM to 3 PM shift.  At 12 Noon, we carried the 15 minute Paul Harvey news and commentary program.  And I, at age 15, got to sit in the studio with my feet up on the audio console and eat my lunch while listening to one of the best radio entertainers ever.  One day as I sat there sprawled in my teenage revery with a mouth full of a 10 cent McDonald's (Remember it was a long time ago),  Paul Harvey gave his famous signoff, "Paul Harvey, Good Day."  I looked up at the clock and it was only 10 minutes after twelve.   He was supposed to be on until 12:15.  I had a mouth full of food and was fighting with the ancient swivel chair to get up to the microphone with the dread of every young performer running through my head that there's nothing on the air and it's your fault.  They'll fire you for this.  Me against Paul Harvey, who were they gonna believe?  As the chair slipped into place and I swallowed a giant chunk of hamburger rendering me unable to speak, Paul Harvey said, "Oops, forgot page 4."  He then read page 4 and ended exactly on time.  Many years later I told him about this event when we shared the dais at an industry function.  He apologized profusely, because he knew what "dead air" meant to a young announcer.

Paul Harvey was important to the moral fiber of our country.  When speaking of the Vietnam War on the air one day, he intoned (to Richard Nixon) "I love you, Mr. President, but you are wrong about this war."  Years later, Nixon said that when he lost Paul Harvey and Walter Cronkite, he lost the war.

And so we end this remembrance with what I remember Paul Harvey saying when Gracie Allen died.  "Good-bye, dear Gracie.  A lot more people left less of a legacy of happiness than you did.  

And Paul, a lot less people left less of a legacy of integrity than you did.  

And, of course, I am sure you have all of your pages with you for the big show.