Paul Harvey 1918 -- 2009

(Compiler's note: A national treasure has gone the way of all the earth. I'm still stunned in learning of Mr. Harvey's death. Like others in this great nation, I grew up glued to the radio when his radio show came on. Although I never met Paul Harvey, I count him as a friend and I will miss him greatly. "Paul Harvey was one of the most gifted and beloved broadcasters in our nation's history," so says ABC Radio Networks President Jim Robinson -- and I agree. I also know that Paul Harvey is happy to once again be in the company of his wife Angel who preceded him in death. "Good day" and goodbye.)

this article is from the blog "In From the Cold"

Paul Harvey has died.

And radio will never be the same.

The legendary broadcaster, whose delivered radio newscasts in a style that was uniquely his own for more than 50 years, died Saturday in a Phoenix hosptial. He was 90.

ABC Radio, which carried Mr. Harvey's broadcasts for almost 60 years announced his passing last night. Network President Jim Robinson described the radio icon as "one of the most gifted and beloved broadcasters" in our nation's history, a voice that "became a trusted friend in American households."

Former President George W. Bush praised Harvey for his commentary that "entertained, enlightened and informed." Paul Harvey received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Mr. Bush in 2005. Mr. Harvey is one of only two radio journalists to win the nation's highest civilian award; the other was Lowell Thomas.

But such accolades don't begin to capture the man--or his legacy. Harvey was fond of saying that he "grew up in radio newsrooms," beginning in his hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma. Originally hired as a station janitor at KVOO, he was eventually allowed to read commercials and handle other on-air assignments.

By 1940, he had moved to St. Louis, working as roving reporter for KXOK. One day, a young school teacher named Lynne Cooper came to the station for a news program. Harvey met her and was instantly smitten. Inviting her to dinner, he proposed after only a few minutes of conversation. She finally said "yes" a year later.

The relationship between Mr. Harvey and his "Angel" was more than a marriage. It was a full partnership that had an enormous impact on both his career and the future of American broadcasting. Bruce DeMont, director of Chicago's Musem of Broadcasting, notes that Lynne Harvey played a major role in her husband's succeess. She was his producer for many years and developed ideas that became trademark radio shows, including the highly succesful "Rest of the Story."

In 1944, it was Mrs. Harvey who suggested a move to Chicago, after her husband's discharge from the Army Air Corps. It was a bold (and risky) move. In those days, Chicago was home to scores of radio programs and the networks maintained extensive broadcast facilities in the city. Chicago represented the big time for an aspiring broadcaster, success was anything but assured.

Mr. Harvey later remembered the city had "hundreds" of unemployed announcers when he arrived. As an outsider--competing against more established talent--he faced long odds.
But he soon found employment, hosting a jobs show for returning military personnel on Chicago's WENR (now WLS).

Hoping to capitalize on his growing popularity, the station soon offered him a newscast. Despite intense competition from other stations, Harvey's wife urged him to take the 10 p.m. slot. It proved to be a fortuitous decision; within months, his program was the number one newscast in Chicago, and Mr. Harvey was on his way.

During those late-night broadcasts, Harvey perfected a unique, personal delivery style that was vastly different from other radio news programs. During that era, news broadcasts were often delivered by staff announcers, reading wire service copy in a "voice of doom" baritone.

Mr. Harvey preferred to write his own scripts, in a folksy conversational tone that captured--no, commanded--the audience's attention. Decades before there was "appointment TV," Paul Harvey's broadcasts became "appointment radio." Three times a day, kitchens, garages, offices, dorm rooms and workshops across America fell silent, as listeners tuned in for his morning or noon newscast, or "The Rest of the Story," which typically aired in the late afternoon.

What they heard was a masterful blend of radio performance and the written word. His broadcast opening (Hello Americans, this is Paul Harvey...stand by for news!) and closing (Paul Harvey...Good Day) became part of the cultural landscape and he's credited with adding such terms as "Reganomics" and "skyjacker" to the lexicon.

More amazingly, Mr. Harvey remained at the top of a fickle business for more than 60 years. ABC began carrying his broadcasts nationally in 1951 and Harvey remained the network's biggest--and most profitable--star until his death. He signed his last contract with the network at age 80, for a reported $10 million a year. Paul Harvey earned millions more from books, speaking fees and a syndicated TV commentary that aired for years on stations around the country.

Yet he remained a modest, unassuming man, by most accounts. As a celebrity, he was practically invisible. Aside from an occasions awards dinner or industry function, Mr. Harvey was rarely seen on the social circuit. Away from the microphone, he spent most of his time with his wife and son (Paul Jr.), best known as the writer for The Rest of the Story, and the announcer heard at the beginning and end of his father's newscasts.

Harvey was not without his critics. Decades before Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity hit the airwaves, Paul Harvey was assailed for his unabashed conservatism. Others claimed that he wasn't really a journalist because he read commercials for his sponsors.

In response, Mr. Harvey said that he was "fiercely loyal to those who put their money where my mouth is," and noted the clear divide between the news and advertising on his programs. "And now, page two," was the trademark segue to the first commercial break. Always taking the high road with critics, Harvey never complained that other newscasters--most notably Charles Osgood of CBS--were never faulted for reading their commercials.

Paul Harvey's life was also remarkably free of scandal, despite his years in the public spotlight. He reportedly received a less-than-honorable discharge from the Air Corps (reportedly for taking a plane for a joyride), but that incident was quickly forgotten. In the early 1950s, he was arrested after climbing over the fence of a Chicago nuclear plant, checking out a tip about a security breach at the facility. After that, Harvey's name rarely appered in the headlines, save announcements of his latest ratings triumph, or some sort of industry award.

Toward the end of his life, that remarkable voice began to lose some of its resonance and health issues forced him to miss more days of work. But there was still magic in that staccato style, impecably turned phrases and those perfect pauses that drew listeners even closer to the radio --and the man behind the microphone.

In a medium often defined by imitation, Paul Harvey was an original. We will never see his likes again. He is already missed.