Part of the Family

One evening in early 2000 my Mom and I were discussing some sad news we had received earlier in the day. Long time 101.5 KGB DJ “Long” John Leslie had passed away. I was blessed to meet and hang out with John on a few occasions and he was a throwback to the good old days of radio; often bringing milk crates full of his own records into the studio to supplement the extensive playlist.

Just as saddened as we were for the loss of a man who was like a cool older brother to thousands of San Diegans’, our hearts went out to his long time on-air partner and off the air friend Coe Lewis. Coe was charged with the monumental task of announcing his death on the air and for all of us it was like a member of our own family had passed on.

This past year has had me thinking of John Leslie’s death on more than one occasion, in part due to his lifestyle and how it inspired me to make changes in my own life. Yet even heavier on my mind and in my heart was the way our local media personalities ingrain themselves into the very fabric of our lives. And this year, the year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Fourteen, the collective loss shared by the San Diego community and family have been unlike any previous year. 2013 closed with the devastating loss of Loren Nancarrow, our go-to guy for weather and anything we might want to learn about our gardens.

Our baseball world was rocked before 2014 was even a week old; as long time Padres announcer, former World Series MVP and USMC combat veteran Jerry Coleman was called for one last sortie into the heavens. Jerry was there for many camping trips on Rosarito Beach in the 1980’s, a source of comfort in the turbulent early 90’s and a prime example of what it is to be an American well into this new millennium. In short, he was like a grandfather to three generations of San Diego baseball fans.

Not long after the first Opening Day in forty years without “The Colonel” behind the microphone, San Diegans were devastated by the second part of the worst one-two punch we’ve ever known. Tony Gwynn. Need I say more? I’ve written extensively about the man and his impact on me, echoing the stories from thousands of others not only across America’s Finest City but across the baseball world. For all his awards and on-field accolades, they pale in comparison to the love we had for him.

And just when we think we might finish the year without losing yet another local icon, Larry Himmel loses his valiant battle with brain cancer. Each man was unique from the other in their chosen crafts but we were able to enjoy Larry all year round as opposed to a spring-through fall schedule.

Tony was most well-known to us on the baseball field and Jerry was most known to San Diegans for his “Oh, Doctor!” catch phrase and Larry well, he was just Larry. He was just a man who just made us laugh through the 1980’s with one  of my favorite shows; San Diego at Large, and he merely became the man who showed the most outstanding example of on-air humility when he covered live the burning of his own home during the 2007 Wildfires. Many San Diegans knew someone who lost a home in the fires, and even more knew someone who was evacuated. But Larry made sure we all did, reporting live as years of irreplaceable memories went up in flames before our eyes. He gave a face to the faceless, a name to the nameless. With one selfless act, we all knew someone who lost their home that tragic day.

I don’t know if it’s a combination of age and the losses we’ve suffered this year, but the impact local personalities have had on our lives have occupied a large part of my mind this past twelve months. I began wondering about the ones who have moved on to other cities and of course those who have moved to the big news desk in the sky. Good folks like Captain Mike Ambrose and Larry Sacknoff, and our writers like Jerry Magee and Barry Lorge. They greet us over coffee in the morning and welcome us home after a long days work. They sit at our table every Thanksgiving, they go to the beach with us every summer. They said goodnight to us on Fridays when we stayed the night at grandma and grandpa’s house and shared wonderful stories of our fair city every Saturday night. They shared their triumphs and sorrows with us; who can forget the stoic message Dave Rickards sent to our enemies after 9/11; the way we mourned with him when his beloved wife Beth passed away?

I will never forget sitting in my Mom’s 1972 Mustang; her risking being late to work and my brother and I being late to school so we can hear Cookie “Chainsaw” Randolph’s “Joke of the Day”, nor will  I ever forget “North Mission Beach” and that dastardly Kurt Bevacqua after he stole Biff’s dream girl Roberta. And who among us hasn’t learned something new About San Diego from Ken Kramer?

 Beloved figures all, and when we encounter them in public we greet them like the old good friends they are. I remember my Mom telling me a story of a company convention she attended which included Ted Leitner as Master of Ceremonies. They say Ted is the kind of guy you either love or hate and Ted, if you ever read this, I love you man.

Many of our local personalities came from other towns, from other states. Yet they are as local as the fish taco, as much a part of our identity as the San Diego Zoo. They are reliable as the waves at Windansea, timeless as the pines in the Cuyamacas. They are our newscasters, our reporters, our writers and our announcers. They are like the wise grandfather, the cool uncle and the neighbor down the street with all the latest gadgets. And when they mourn, we mourn right along with them. For they are part of our town, part of our lives and part of our family…