Paul Harvey, RIP

I am facing one of those blog posts where I know whatever I say will be inadequate to express how I feel. Broadcast legend Paul Harvey is dead at the age of 90.

There are broadcasters, entertainers, and musicians who weave themselves, inextricably, into the series of experiences that constitute a life. When they pass, I feel a deep sadness--a hole in the fabric of life experiences that will simply remain. The echo of voices and music in my head periodically creates a longing for me to go back to a certain time in order to fully enjoy the moment. That's why I try to truly appreciate the moments that occur in the here-and-now.

I long to go back to hear Jack Buck broadcast a Cardinals game, to see a new Bob Hope Christmas special, to know that Johnny Carson will open "The Tonight Show" with a monologue, or to sample a new song from John Lennon.

And now Paul Harvey won't be on the radio.

As a kid who wanted to be a radio announcer from the age of 12, I had the good fortune of growing up and attending a broadcasting school in St. Louis. I learned from the legends that populated the St. Louis airwaves how to write and deliver quality news and talk.

And I learned from Paul Harvey. The hardest task for the novice announcer is to undo trying to affect an "announcer voice"--a booming, overstated parody of a Top 40 jock. That's the style for which students believe they should strive. In fact, accomplished broadcasters communicate in a warm and winning one-on-one conversational style.

Paul Harvey represented a personality who talked with us, stood amazed with us, cried with us, and warmly related the stories of our friends and neighbors. Radio has changed dramatically with the advent of the "morning zoo" and "shock jock." I am sure that it has not changed for the better.