Dave’s life – Page 2 – Garroway at Large

Dave Garroway talks with Studs Terkel, 1975

One of the blessings of the Internet era is that many archives have opened up and a lot of material has become available. Today’s post is about one such archive, available for endless hours of enjoyment.

Maybe you know the name Studs Terkel from his books, such as Working or The Good War. Maybe you’ve seen him in the occasional film role. Maybe you’ve seen him pop up in documentaries. It doesn’t matter, because the man could do anything and, through his long life, often did. But he had a particular talent for conversation, the ability to talk to anyone about anything, which he parlayed not only into his best-selling books but also into a radio series on WFMT in Chicago.¹

And, as it happens, our man Dave Garroway stopped in to talk with Studs one day in 1974. Dave and Studs had known one another since the late 1940s, both as up-and-coming disc jockeys, and subsequently as television stars in the Chicago School firmament (Dave on Garroway at Large, Studs on Studs’ Place). Thanks to the wonderful Studs Terkel Radio Archive², you can listen to the two old friends talk about a number of things: broadcasting, jazz, race relations and more. Take about an hour and let yourself be entranced by a master communicator and a master conversationalist.³ (Then when you’re done listening to that interview, take a look at the other interviews available in this magnificent collection and enjoy them, too. There’s only about 5,600 shows to go through, so make some time.)

A man and his son, 1962

“Today” at 30

On January 14, 1982 Today marked its thirtieth anniversary.¹ As it tended to do on its milestone anniversaries, Today devoted much of the program to a big celebration. The 1982 anniversary special was unexpectedly poignant, and it’s for a reason we’ll get to in a little while.

As most Today anniversaries do, this one began with a glimpse at a few moments from that very first telecast.

I think there’s a law that mandates the use of footage from that kinescope. (NBC photo)

Then we return to the studio, where we see Jack Lescoulie and Dave Garroway joking with each other about the spelling of Lescoulie’s last name.² The rapport between the two melts away the years, and for a moment it’s like 1954.

It’s as if they never stopped being on the program together. (NBC photo)

Bryant Gumbel – who had just taken over as co-host after Tom Brokaw accepted the NBC Nightly News anchor slot – introduces the men he calls “the originals,” Lescoulie, Garroway and Frank Blair.³

Lescoulie, Garroway, Gumbel, Blair and Jane Pauley. (NBC photo)

Gumbel asks Garroway what they were thinking the first day. And at this point, Garroway sounds like a grandfather dispensing advice. “You are now in the first phases of the beginning of your real life, Bryant,” he says. “You’ll find that out in the years to come. At least, I did.” Gumbel asks if it really was an adventure for him. “It changes you from one man into another. Did me. And you will feel differently about the world, very much so, if you’re on like three, four, five years.”

Gumbel notes that Lescoulie was called “the saver,” and Lescoulie described the origins of that: Garroway instructing him to walk in if he ever thought Dave was getting dull or an interview wasn’t going right. “Now, that kind of trust you don’t get very often!” Lescoulie said. Garroway mentions hearing Lescoulie as host of The Grouch Club, and suggesting him to Pat Weaver as a result.

Frank Blair remembers the task they had, which was to get people to watch at seven in the morning. He and Lescoulie recall John Crosby’s famous “What hath God and NBC wrought?” review, and that the show couldn’t last beyond thirteen weeks. At this point, Garroway jumps in: “Well, all the pioneers, you know – Copernicus, Galileo, we all suffered the first year or two!”⁴ There’s a little laughter from the panel. “That’s true!” Lescoulie says. “You’re putting us in pretty fast company, though.”

This comes from the next segment, but I can’t help putting it in here. The old Dave – funny, playful – showed up that morning. It was magic. (NBC photo)

Jane Pauley asks Garroway about his statement on the first program “to be informative without being terribly stuffy.” She asks why Garroway was afraid of being stuffy. “I don’t like stuffy things, or people, very much, I guess,” he says. “And there was so much to talk about, and do, and there still is in the world, that I don’t find it a very stuffy world even today. And if you can get the world over to them, it’s great.” And with that, the inevitable topic of J. Fred Muggs comes up. “You didn’t consider that at all demeaning because you’re not a stuffy guy, eh?” Pauley asks. “No!” Garroway says. “He was a charming, marvelous beast.” At which point Garroway pulls out a TV Guide and says that Muggs is more in the public eye today than he has ever been,⁵ and as evidence shows the magazine’s “Distinguished J. Fred Muggs Awards.”⁶ To which Garroway says, “This chimpanzee has been off the air for twenty-one years! And yet he’s still in the public eye!”

Dave shows off the “J. Fred Muggs Awards” in “TV Guide.” (NBC photo)

After a break – or as Gumbel says to Garroway, “what you used to call a recess” – Pat Weaver joins the panel. Gumbel asks why a chimpanzee joined the program. “Well, a pleasant little small ape – you know, if you got a gorilla, it might have scared Dave and Jack! I don’t think it would have worked with a gorilla!” Weaver explains that one of the problems they faced was that children would turn the set to cartoons, so they needed something that could effectively compete. “When Muggs did happen, it was the ideal solution to a problem that we faced in the early days, which is how to get the kids to like the show.”

Pat Weaver joins in. I wish they hadn’t bounced Jane Pauley, though. (NBC photo)

In the next segment, Gumbel talks to John Chancellor and Edwin Newman, who joined Today when Garroway left. “You replaced Dave Garroway,” Gumbel says to Chancellor. “Tough act. What were your thoughts?”

Before Gumbel can finish his question, Chancellor slumps over, puts his head on Gumbel’s shoulder, and snores loudly. Then he snaps back up. “Well, that was one of my thoughts,” Chancellor says. “I couldn’t believe we were on that early. It was a very difficult act to follow, and I’m not sure I was really able to fill those shoes, which I learned to be about size eighteen. Dave was one of the most magnificent communicators I had ever known and I suppose some of us learned – I think maybe Edwin did, too – from David and from Jack Lescoulie to be a little easier on television. I think most of us were very solemn when we were doing the news, and I loosened up a lot when I was on the Today show, and I think Ed did too.” Chancellor talks about how serious the show was when he took over, with a lot of heavy global and national topics balanced with some of the lighter things they did. “And they’ve threatened me by showing some of the lighter things that we’ve done.”⁷

Gumbel then asks Newman about a couple of famous moments from his time on Today, including the time he abruptly cut off an interview with George Jessel that was going off the rails,⁸ and the time Newman interviewed himself about his book Strictly Speaking.⁹

Edwin Newman interviews Edwin Newman. (NBC photo)

Throughout the morning there are birthday wishes at the end of segments. Here’s one from the Blues Brothers.

Belushi and Aykroyd. Less than two months later, Belushi would die. (NBC photo)

Later segments are less Garroway-centric, but still give us glimpses of a bygone era. Here, Gene Shalit has a few minutes with Barbara Walters, who talks about how she was the last person hired when Dave Garroway was still there, so there was really nobody on the show she didn’t know.

We then see some other historic moments, such as greetings from Pope Paul VI via satellite:

…then a clip from the program’s visit to Romania:

…and the Orient:

…and to London.

And then there’s top-of-the-hour greetings. Some views of the set:

Note Gene Shalit’s hair, spectacular as ever. (NBC photo)

Bryant Gumbel and Willard Scott. I predict a beautiful friendship between the two, in which nothing can ever possibly go wrong. (NBC photo)

But even in the midst of celebration, the world continues to turn, and the second hour begins with a news update from Chris Wallace in Washington. The big story was the previous day’s crash of Air Florida Flight 90 after it took off from Washington National Airport.

After some updates on the crash and investigation from correspondents in Washington, Wallace talks to NBC technician Jim Bigger, who had been returning to the Washington bureau from an assignment at the Pentagon.

Jim Bigger, who had been close enough to the doomed 737 to be glad he was no closer. (NBC photo)

Bigger was less than half a mile from the scene – as he tells Wallace, “close enough to know I was glad that I was no closer” – and provides a chilling report, saying it looked for all the world like the plane was going to land on the bridge, that the plane was in a stall configuration with nose up and tail down, and a lot of noise.¹⁰ The plane, Bigger says, settled on the span of the bridge and then disappeared. “There was almost an eerie sense of silence,” he says. “There was nothing, and the aroma of jet fuel began to permeate the air and we knew there was an aircraft in the river. There was no place else for him to go.”

Then it’s to Willard Scott with the weather. He begins by acknowledging the crash – “Our hearts go out to everyone down there” – and the big weather story, which is a huge winter storm system covering much of the United States.¹¹ Willard mentions that Phil Donahue had been scheduled to appear on today’s program but was stuck in Boston. “Enjoy your second cup,” Willard advises him.

That big winter storm got to us down here, too. (NBC photo)

Gene Shalit does a longer interview with Barbara Walters, mentioning a time that “a really tough subject almost got the better of Barbara Walters,” and asks that a monitor be nearby for her to see the clip. But it’s not of a prime minister or celebrity trying to squeeze out from a hard question; instead, it’s this:

And her response:

Walters talks about how the times have changed for women; when she started on Today as a writer, they only had one female writer at a time, and they only wrote women’s stories. Producer Shad Northshield championed her, saying that Walters was capable of writing about anything, so she wrote about more topics and eventually became an on-air reporter. When she sees someone like Jane Pauley in a prominent role, she says, it is a sign that times have changed since those early days.

They would be reunited on “20/20.” (NBC photo)

The interview continues after the break, as Hugh Downs¹² joins Shalit and Walters. “I would not have been on the air were it not for Hugh and his generosity,” Walters says, “because they didn’t take writers and put them on the air. And so many of the opportunities I had were because this was a man who was never jealous, and never small.” They talk about her reputation as a tough questioner, and she talks about how she gets people to open up on sensitive topics. Downs backs her up, saying he’s never heard her be mean to an interviewee.

Then there’s a segment about Joe Garagiola that turns into a roast, of sorts. But it takes a serious turn when Gumbel talks about being offered the Today job; when the offer came, Gumbel knew there was someone who could give him advice about moving from sports to a general-interest morning program, because he’d done it. Gumbel thanks “my buddy here” and says “I will forever appreciate it. Thank you.”

Jane Pauley references the station break cue “We’ll be back; don’t go far,” and how that was the trademark of Frank McGee. She introduces Jim Hartz, who was McGee’s longtime friend and who succeeded McGee as Today host when he died in 1974.

The often-forgotten Jim Hartz, low-key and easygoing, speaks from the heart about his friend and fellow Oklahoman Frank McGee. (NBC photo)

Hartz, an Oklahoman like McGee, talks about their close friendship and remembers McGee’s distinguished career. “As a reporter he was all business – no nonsense, nothing fancy,” Hartz says.

Frank McGee in one of his signature roles, holding the desk during NASA missions. (NBC photo)

“On camera he was blunt, sometimes abrasive¹³, but never lost what one critic called his ministerial dignity. Away from here, though, on the farm down in Virginia, Frank was relaxed and warm and funny. One of the things he told me he liked most about the Today show was the luxury of enough time to be himself, to let the other side of his personality come out.”¹⁴

A clip from New Year’s Day 1974, in which McGee talks about his childhood experiences watching movies, poking fun at himself for not realizing the same people got shot every week and how many times he saved Ronald Colman’s life. (NBC photo)

In the next segment, a clip of Dave Garroway doing the weather with the help of Lee Ann Meriwether is followed by Willard Scott doing that day’s weather with the help of Lee Ann Meriwether. She remembers how the weather was outlined on the map in red, which couldn’t be seen on black-and-white television, so they only had to trace over it. “And it made me look so intelligent!”

Lee Ann Meriwether helps Dave Garroway with the weather..

…and helping Willard Scott with the weather. (NBC photo)

After they ham it up for a few minutes, Jane Pauley and Gene Shalit visit with Tom Brokaw. He remembers coming to New York for the World’s Fair and looking in the window at the Today Show,¹⁵ and holding up a sign plugging Today in Omaha. “I thought that was going to be my one network shot, and as a penalty I had to come back and do it for five and a half years.”

After a segment showing times when presidents had given interviews to Today, including Harry Truman’s post-presidency strolls past the big windows, Gumbel throws to Willard Scott, who’s on the 49th Street sidewalk opposite the old Exhibition Hall.

After talking to a woman who said she remembers watching the first Today program, Willard just happens to bump into David Letterman, whose new NBC late-night program begins Feb. 1. Letterman congratulates everyone on Today on the show’s thirtieth anniversary – “and I know that means a lot coming from a guy whose own show lasted eighteen weeks.”¹⁶

And then one more celebrity greeting, this one from Steve Martin.

“Well, the Today show is thirty years old. Happy birthday, and remember: don’t trust anyone over thirty.” (NBC photo)

As the two hours come to an end, Gumbel talks about all the hours of programming on over 7,810 broadcasts – “and if that doesn’t humble you a little bit on this January 14th, 1982, then I am not sure what does” – and then each Today alum identifies themselves.

One is saved for last – as Gumbel says, a very special goodbye from a very special man. “Sentimental Journey” comes up in the background.

“I’m Dave Garroway…and peace.”

There is applause. Gene Shalit hands Garroway the first piece from the enormous birthday cake. Lee Ann Meriwether, Florence Henderson, Helen O’Connell and Betsy Palmer – former Today Girls – gather around Garroway. He holds the plate and says to them, “I said ‘peace’ and I got one!” They laugh and hug him.

No one knew how poignant the moment would be. Six months, one week and one day later, the same studio that hosted a joyous celebration, and some of the same people who had gathered for that celebration, would be holding an on-air memorial for Dave Garroway, who had died the day before. No one knew, or could have known. In a thank-you letter to producer Steve Friedman, Garroway had written of the fun he had coming back for the show. He ended the letter, “Now, let’s talk about 1987.”

If only it could have been.

Here are a few more photos to supplement the screengrabs above:

Dave with Estelle Parsons, Florence Henderson, Jane Pauley, Lee Ann Meriwether, Betsy Palmer and Helen O’Connell. (NBC photo)

From left: Jack Lescoulie, John Chancellor, Hugh Downs, Pat Weaver, Jim Hartz, Betty Furness, Gene Shalit, Bryant Gumbel, our Dave, Helen O’Connell, Florence Henderson, Betsy Palmer, Lee Ann Meriwether, Frank Blair, and Estelle Parsons (hidden behind teleprompter hood). (NBC photo)

A high note for the year’s end

As we come to the the end of this full-grown, adult-size bang-a-roo headache of a year, we could use some good news, right? Well, here it is:

The manuscript is finished.

That’s right. The manuscript is finished. All 135,513 words of the first draft, covering from the arrival of the Garroways from Scotland to the 1983 memorial concert after his death, and everything in between.

The manuscript is now in the hands of my partners on the project, who are reviewing it and will get back to me with corrections and suggestions, which is what you need. For now, though, I’m still in a state of disbelief that it’s actually done – and a week ahead of schedule, no less.

There’s a lot left to go. I’ll have to make revisions, then edit those, and do a dozen other things before it’s all polished out. That’s not to mention finishing the endnotes, locating illustrations, finding a publisher who’s interested, and all of everything else. But those worries can wait. For now, it’s the relief of a huge task accomplished. Not a bad way to end a dumpster fire of a year, no?

This also will have some implications for the blog. Now that I have the manuscript done, and now that I know what fit the narrative and what had to be cut as seeming like trivia, I can write some posts based around those “cool items that had to be cut” and not worry so much about spoiling the book. So look for some interesting posts here soon.

In the meantime, thank you all for following along here, and thank you for your support of this whole effort. May all of you have a happy and healthy 2021 – and may this new year be infinitely better for all of us.

Season’s greetings

There is a reason I haven’t posted lately, and I believe it’s a reason that will meet with your approval: The first draft of the manuscript is coming very close to completion. The promise date¹ to my reviewers is January 1, and when I make a promise, I do my very best to keep my word. There is not a whole lot left for me to do before it’s a complete narrative, ready for review.

Now, this first draft is kind of rough, but that’s why you do a first draft. In any event, it’s a coherent story, and as I have worked on the narrative the connections have clicked into place. When this thing is polished up and ready for press, you’ll really be happy, I think.

I hate repeating content, but in the spirit of the season, I’ll refer you to this piece of seasonal reading – which, by the way, still makes dandy Christmastime viewing.

Whatever you celebrate or observe, make it a good one, and please make it a safe one. Don’t endanger yourself or others.

“The Man Who Came To Breakfast,” 1953

Some years ago I made reference to a 1953 Esquire article by Richard Gehman. This article captured what it was like when Today was young and everything seemed brand-new, and cast and crew were coping with life at an hour that still seemed far too early for television. Back when I wrote about it, the best I could do was give you a summary of the article, for the Esquire archive was paywalled.

Happily, the Esquire archives are now open to one and all, as I discovered while looking for something else last week. It is therefore my pleasure to present to you “The Man Who Came To Breakfast,” so you may enjoy Richard Gehman’s unique take on early Today for yourself. Please enjoy.

When you can’t go home again

All of us, at one time or another, have the urge to go back to places we remember. Sometimes we wish we hadn’t. Last December, after the last day of classes, I took an overnight trip to North Carolina just because I needed to get away. As part of that trip, I retraced the route we’d take to visit my grandfather’s summer home. There are so many memories I have of that old house, full of neat stuff he’d accumulated over the years, where time seemed like it had stood still since about 1965. It was full of neat books and gadgets and stuff from an age slightly older than mine. In an odd way, I felt at home in that time capsule of a house.¹

There have been times the last few years when I’ve daydreamed about striking it rich² and buying my grandfather’s old place, fixing the house up and making my own memories there. And last December, there was a “for sale” sign in front of the house. That night, in my hotel room, I looked up the listing. It didn’t take me long to wish I hadn’t. Very little of the interior of that house was still as I remembered it. Everything that made it special had been gutted at least 20 years back and replaced with stuff that looked identical to what you’d find in any other house anywhere else. Some parts of the house appeared to have been damaged. Much of it had been renovated to the point that I couldn’t recognize which room was supposed to be which. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it hurt regardless.³

This kind of heartbreak happens to all of us, in time. It’s the nature of the world. As Dave Garroway was reminded in 1954. During a summer respite, he happened to be near his hometown of Schenectady, New York, and decided to drive through for old times’ sake. He found his maternal grandparents’ old home place and drove out to see what it was like now. Garroway rang the bell, met the family that lived there now, explained that he had grown up there and asked if he might have a look around. It didn’t take long for the realization to hit him, either. “The deer stag’s head was off the wall, and the lamp with the beaded fringe was gone,” he recalled. “Grandfather’s rose garden was now a concrete garage…which all goes to show, you can’t go home again.”

It didn’t get any better when he went out to the old home place of his father’s family. His father, grandfather and an uncle had worked for General Electric, and during the off-hours they ran a chicken farm that kept them engaged in what Garroway remembered as “backbreaking work.” The young Garroways had lived in a cottage on the chicken farm, and it burned down when Dave was two. “I stopped there last summer, too, and looked at the site,” he said. “Growing out of the old ruins was a poplar tree, so big around that I couldn’t even get my arms around it. That’s how old I am!”

Maybe all of us should heed the words of Thomas Wolfe.⁴

Cooking with the Garroways, 1959

In July 1959 Clementine Paddleford, food editor for This Week magazine, visited Dave and Pamela Garroway at their New York home for her series “How America Eats.” As part of the article, Dave and Pamela talked about how their family liked to eat.

Dave confessed that his one talent in the kitchen was making a New Orleans Remoulade, which he liked to make and serve on shrimp when they had company over for dinner and conversation.¹ For years, he admitted, “I lived on salmon sandwiches, milk and bananas. I still like bananas, but now I prefer them flambeed.” The difference, he said, was marrying Pamela. “She is keeping my waistline trim, yet I have never eaten better.”

Dave gets sample of Pamela’s chili – it’s a Saturday-night favorite

While Pamela, who had lived in Paris for many years, knew French food well, it was a comparably humble dish of hers that became a favorite of Dave’s: Homemade Canned Chili, made with two cans of chili con carne and some extra ingredients.² The article noted that on Friday nights in the wintertime, Dave loved to come home to a dinner of chili and crackers. It was also a favorite on their Sunday table at their beach house on Long Island. They liked to serve it along with a green salad tossed with thyme and tarragon wine vinegar dressing, hot garlic bread, Chianti or beer (depending on individual taste), and chilled melon balls for dessert.

Lest the Garroways’ favorite recipes be lost forever, it’s my pleasure to provide you with the three recipes from the article. Use them in all good health.

Remoulade Sauce
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup Creole mustard*
3/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup finely-chopped celery
1/2 cup finely-chopped onion
2 tbsp. minced parsley
2 tbsp. finely-chopped dill pickle
1 clove garlic, minced
juice of one lemon
few drops hot pepper sauce
1 tbsp. paprika
red pepper to taste

Combine mayonnaise, mustard and olive oil. Add remaining ingredients and blend thoroughly. Serve over shrimp. Yield: 2 cups sauce.
*Note: If a sharper type of mustard is used, the amount may be decreased as desired.

Homemade Canned Chili
6 medium onions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup butter or margarine
1/2 pound ground beef
2 cans (1 pound each) chili con carne with beans
1/2 cup chili sauce
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
dash of pepper
few drops hot pepper sauce

Saute onions in butter until soft; remove from pan. Cook beef until brown. Add sauteed onions and remaining ingredients. Heat, stirring until well-blended. Cover. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Yield: 4 portions.

Flounder in Sherry
1 lb. flounder fillets, cut into serving pieces
1/3 cup minced onion
1/2 cup sherry wine
1 can (4 oz.) chopped mushrooms and liquid
salt
coarsely-ground black pepper

Place fish fillets in shallow greased baking dish. Sprinkle on onion. Add sherry, mushrooms and mushroom liquid. Season with salt and pepper. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes. Serve with sauce, as desired. Yield: 3 to 4 portions.
To complete the course, Pamela suggests buttered green peas and little new potatoes feathered with parsley. For dessert, a lemon ice and ladyfingers.

Get lost!

After the past few months, curbing how much we go out or canceling travel plans or doing whatever we need to do to stay safe, I think all of us have a pretty pronounced case of cabin fever. I know it’s bitten me pretty hard of late. It hasn’t been helped any when I look back on the calendar and remember it was three years ago this week I went to the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention for the first time. It gets even worse when I remember it was two years ago this week I was there, gave a presentation with my friend Kevin Doherty, met up with some great people I’d befriended the year before (Mitchell, Judie, Carol…I’m looking at y’all). And along the way, what started out as a fairly straightforward trip to Maryland for a conference got altered by a hurricane, and I ended up having the most unexpectedly amazing adventure, beyond anything I could have set out to do.

So with all that going on, and all those memories, it’s awfully tempting to throw my cares to the winds, throw a few things in a bag, get in the car and head for the mountains or something. But that’s not yet a good idea. The day will come when it will be safe to do so again, and it will be Good indeed. But instead, I’ve stayed here, done my work, and I’ve begun the long (but, thankfully, swiftly-moving¹) process of taking all those newspaper clippings and extracting the vital information from them. All to bring you, the reader, the most thorough treatment of Dave Garroway’s life and times that I can. Because I care.

And it happens that one item I’ve recently written about in the draft has something to do with throwing cares to the winds, loading up the vehicle and heading out. Only, in Dave’s case, more so.

After he left Today, Dave set out to be the best dad he could be, and he was especially fond of spending time with his youngest child, Dave Jr. In 1965, Garroway told a reporter about something that his son called “Get Lost.” The elder Garroway owned a Chevrolet Greenbrier van, which he enjoyed because the utilitarian vehicle gave him some anonymity, and it also doubled as a handy camper van.² And sometimes they took advantage of that latter function. The two Daves would load the Greenbrier with a supply of food and other necessities, sometimes pack a Questar telescope, and then get in. Dad would give Junior a map and tell him to get them “as thoroughly lost as possible.” And fun would ensue. “In ten minutes, we really are lost,” Garroway told the reporter.

Sometimes Dave Jr. would find a road that looked interesting and direct his dad to follow it. Other times, he’d tell his dad to follow a truck or go down a random road. Sometimes Dave Jr. would be so thorough that they couldn’t figure out how to get out; they’d have to backtrack. Decades later, Dave Jr. remembered how they would often end out spending the night out in the countryside, eating soup from cans and looking at stars through the Questar. Sometimes, if it got really late and they couldn’t find a place that looked like a good camping spot, they might check into a motel.

The getaways provided valuable father-son bonding time. And for Garroway, it provided something else. “We spend the weekend in complete anonymity. People go right by your face without recognizing you when you are in a situation that is unexpected.”

Here’s to the day – and let’s hope it’s soon – when we, too, can have getaways of our own, and build new memories. (Just try to remember how to get out of where you end up.)

The search is over

On any project there are milestones. Sometimes you meet them and you feel unalloyed relief. But other times you feel a twinge of sadness alongside relief. Yesterday had one such moment for me.

For the last three years I have slowly made my way through the Newspapers database, compiling thousands of newspaper clippings through the years of Dave Garroway’s life. And it was yesterday that my search carried me through the year 1982, when Dave’s life ended.

Memorial ad from the July 27, 1982 Hartford Courant.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s been a chore, tedious at times. Although I do have to say it’s nowhere near the chore that going through newspapers was in earlier times. Until not that long ago, going through newspapers meant spending days on end at libraries spooling through countless microfilm reels, with no real search assistance for most newspapers. You had to know what to look for and where to find it. It took forever. My master’s thesis involved a lot of crawling through microfilm, and even though it was a single newspaper over a period of three months, it was a chore. Which makes me thankful for Newspapers.com and how a single search string can return thousands of matches from hundreds of newspapers in an instant.¹

Within seconds, a search string pulls up 21,000 results from the year 1953, from dozens of papers around the nation (and in some instances, other countries). Can you imagine the work this would have been in the microfilm era? Sigh.

Be that as it may, it adds up in a hurry. The pile of clippings from the 1950s alone is overwhelming. What’s worse is that every time I have saved a clipping, I have logged it on notebook paper, and that log fills a binder. ² I have conducted the search in my home, my work office, in countless hotel rooms during my travels the last three years.³ At times it’s been a chore that never seemed to end; in other times it’s been a welcome distraction from whatever was troubling me. And now it’s done, mostly.

There’s still the years after Dave’s death to look through, and I am making my way through those. But as the years pass, the mentions become fewer. You also see mentions of his name when his colleagues and contemporaries pass away. In time, his name fades, brought up only in mentions of anniversaries of Today‘s debut. You do get a feeling of a story ending and fading.

Going through all these articles has given me a great sense of the arc of Dave’s life, and I feel I understand him that much better. It’s closed some open questions, put time stamps on moments that seemed to float in history, and knocked down a myth or two along the way. But it’s also had moments of sadness, as he goes from rising-star DJ of the 1940s to white-hot television icon of the early ’50s to serious presence of the late ’50s…and then his world falls apart, and he vanishes. Oh, he pops up every so often with a new gig, but those don’t take root for whatever reason. Every so often someone interviews him, and his views on television become less hopeful with every interview in each successive year. And then it’s over in a moment, and with each year that passes since, it seems he becomes more a trivia answer than anything else.

I can’t rest too long, because now it’s time for me to take those 3,000-plus clippings and put them to work, and that’s going to be a chore in itself. I can’t say I’ll miss the hours of clipping and logging. But I will miss watching Dave’s story unfold, and I’ll also miss the little discoveries I made along the way.

A lengthy chapter has closed. But many more remain to be written. Let’s do that now.