Photo Credit: Radio Ink Magazine
(Paul Harvey and Radio Ink publisher Eric Rhoads 1991)
Commentary of the Death of Paul Harvey (1918-2009)
By Radio Historian B. Eric Rhoads
I’m saddened to see the death of Paul Harvey, who was the longest running radio personality in America. Paul was a dear friend of mine, who had written the forward to my book “Blast from the Past: A Pictorial History of Radio’s First 75 Years” and has been interviewed many times in my magazine Radio Ink.
Paul was not only a good friend, he was a beacon of light for the radio industry. He is our Rembrandt, a master of the craft of radio. His words, stories and presentation were the best example of using the radio to create images. He will be missed.
One of the highlights of my career was my first meeting with Paul, when I visited his broadcast studio in Chicago and watched his broadcast for the first time. He was kind and gentle and truly interested in learning more about me than he was talking about himself. Paul once read a story about me on the air, which my grandfather heard. My grandfather never much understood what it is I do, but when he told me he heard my name on Paul Harvey, it was one of his (and mine) proudest moments.
Paul was on the air from 1933 when he first aired on KVOO Tulsa and was on the air into 2009. 76 Years on the air. He was America's #2 most listened to radio personality (only behind Rush Limbaugh) and stayed on the air all those years because he understood the magic of using words to craft visions on the radio. He understood the value of inflection and.... pause. He was a masterful craftsman, who embodied the greatness of radio. And he was once called radio's top salesman, because any product he endorsed would sell unlike any other, yet he would not endorse what he did not believe in.
(Photo credit: Radio Ink Magazine/Blast from the Past: Radio's First 75 Years.)
In the forward to my book, Paul said this:
“Should you visit my skyscraper offices, your attention will focus first on a large portrait in the reception room wall. It’s a portrait of a young boy whose clothing dates itself to a generation past: the plus-fours are wretchedly wrinkled, the mis-shapen shoes are worn out; one is worn through.
But the boy, leaning forward on one elbow is listening enrapt to a 1930’s-vintage cathedral-shaped multi-dial radio.
The boy does not resemble any person in particular except to me. The artist in Oklahoma, Jim Daly, whom I have never met, but with the painting he included this note. “There is no way for me to express the pleasure I received from listening to the old radio programs. In my mind those wonderful heroes were magnificent. No movie... No television program... Not even really life, could have equaled what my imagination could conjure up. Amazingly, all those heroes looked a little bit like me.”
Radio people, in their preoccupied haste, have been letting go of the might and majesty of the well-spoken word.
Van Gogh is pleasing to the eye: Shakespeare is fathomless. Our industry’s poets you can count on your thumbs. Charles Kuralt when he has time and Jack Whittaker when some classic sporting event deserves added dimensions.
Trust me to paint pictures on the mirror of your mind and I will let you feel such agony and ecstasy, such misery and such magnificence as you would never be able to feel by looking at it.
Let me paint you a picture of unrequited love in 17 words: “When the fire in me meets with the ice in you what could remain but damp ashes.?”
Now tell me, with what picture in oil or on film could you duplicate that poignancy?
We court the lights turned down to remain undistracted. We savor a fragrance, a kiss or a foot massage with our eyes closed.
As a boy, I fell in love with words and ran away from home and joined the radio.
It was really something. Close your eyes and see...
It still can be.”
- Paul Harvey
(Photo credit: Radio Ink Magazine/Blast from the Past: Radio's First 75 Years.)
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