Many us have them in our offices: mementoes of events in our lives that had special meaning to us, some of them perhaps even somehow defining our futures.
Mine sits quietly on a bookshelf. You have to get close to it to make out what it's about, what it says. But of all the "stuff" that crowds this little workspace of mine, the pre-word processor, typed and signed thank-you note dated June 26, 1992 contained in this 5X7 frame is by far the most precious because it reminds me of the generous nature of one of the most gracious individuals I ever had the pleasure to work for and with: Paul Harvey.
Mr. Harvey died on February 28 at a hospital in Phoenix. He was 90. An early riser (3:30am!) whose voice embodied Americana, he was an inspiration to all who derive so much satisfaction their work that they can't imagine life without it.
Prior to the five-year episode reflected by that framed letter in my office, I had crossed paths with Paul Harvey a couple of times during my career in local and then network radio news; first, when he was a featured speaker before the South Carolina Association of Broadcasters annual convention in the early 70's. I recall an humble personality, devoted to the medium of radio - one who fully appreciated the concept of "theater of the mind."
The second path-crossing occurred later in the decade. By then, I was the morning anchor at the AP Radio Network in Washington and Harvey was on tour, promoting the release of the first edition of "The Rest of the Story," a collaboration with his son, Paul Harvey, Jr. I remember being struck by the ready willingness of this busy man to stop and spend time "hanging out" in our newsroom, fielding the questions of a staff of young eager-beavers -- some of whom would themselves go on to become household names -- CNN's Candy Crowley and Richard Roth, and Mark Knoller of CBS Radio News, among them. I'm betting they too recall that day as a fond and influential moment in the development of their careers in broadcasting.
It was more than a decade later, on a routine morning just after completing an anchor shift at ABC Radio Network News in New York when I was approached by management to ask if I could stick around and sit-in for Paul Harvey. Something had come up and he could not do his noon program that day. It was then about 8:40am and I had to write the entire show and deliver it, live, at noon.
It's one thing to write an hourly five-minute radio newscast, punctuated by the recorded voices of newsmakers, correspondent reports from the field and the occasional live-insert from the location of a breaking event. Thanks to those breaks, you have plenty of time to collect your thoughts as you move through the script. But I was unprepared for what Mr. Harvey had been quietly performing, day after day, for decades: 15-minutes (an eternity in radio) of collected news items, tidbits and tales that --taken in their totality-- reflected daily portraits of the human condition - delivered without benefit of those taped interludes and, in Harvey's case, with the additional duty of delivering the messages of his sponsors. This man had been daily accomplishing a feat on the equivalent of using a garden trowel to fill the Grand Canyon.
I was aware that the Harvey shows were then being aired over some 1,200 radio stations and heard by an estimated 24-million listeners, but from the isolation of a studio in New York, those were just numbers. It wasn't until I came home to Morehead, Kentucky in 1993 to attend my high school reunion that I fully appreciated the his reach. Because this reunion was so unusual in nature --each graduating class spanning 50-years in the history of The University Breckinridge School had been invited-- and because the first Gulf War had just ended, the phrase "the mother of all reunions" had resonance, I included in a show a tidbit about plans to gather these former students and their former teachers. Later, while at the reunion, I learned that quite a few in attendance had made their way back home to Morehead, some from great distances, only after hearing about it for the first time on that Paul Harvey broadcast.
Eventually, I returned to Kentucky and for a time continued standing-in for Paul Harvey from a studio at WVLK.
It was cherished experience. But mostly it was influential. Paul Harvey taught the lesson that one can find tremendous personal satisfaction in pursuing a career in the work that they most enjoy performing.
If that isn't saying enough about the man, consider this: he even made it a joy to wake up at 3:30am.
Many of us have never known life without Paul Harvey on the radio. His passing marks a milestone in the American experience. His work established standards of radio script-writing and performance that likely will never be eclipsed.