They're going to hold a memorial service for Dave Blackwell in May, and all I can think is that if the event is true to Blacks, it will be a giant roast of the old broadcaster, and the whiskey and one-liners will be flowing.
Blackwell, who died at 66 last week, was a witty, intelligent, good-hearted man, which helped make him a fixture in Salt Lake radio, TV and newspapers for three decades. And he was funny. Very funny.
I won't try to explain my favorite Blackwell moment except to say it occurred during a serious staff meeting at the Deseret News — he was our Jazz beat writer at the time — and he zinged our very sober sports editor with a line that literally put Lee Benson and me on the floor underneath the table, almost sick with laughter. We laughed so hard that the muscles in our faces hurt.
Most people think of funny comebacks or clever one-liners later, when they're in the shower. Blackwell could summon them at will. Ask him to say something funny, he could do it. He often turned his humor on himself. Once, LaVell Edwards jokingly asked Blacks how come he had never joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and he didn't miss a beat: "I'm the only guy who's moved to Utah and nobody asked me to join."
One time several staff writers were sitting in a cafe while Blackwell was telling a story. Everyone's attention was averted when the waitress came to take our orders, but Blacks kept talking. When he noticed no one was listening, he slid his chair over to the table of strangers next to us and said, "Hi, would you listen to my story?" and continued.
I'm laughing out loud even as I write these stories about Blacks.
Blacks lived a rich life. He went to law school for a time. He boxed. He played college baseball. He acted in a Hollywood movie. He was in the Army. He was a broadcaster for 45 years. He seemed to have been everywhere and met everyone.
He was a prolific name-dropper, but he could back it up. Once, when he was in Phoenix with Frank Layden and mentioned that he ought to give Joe Garagiola a call while he was in town, Layden decided "to call his bluff." Blackwell went right to the phone and within the hour Layden found himself having dinner with Garagiola and Blacks.
Layden later met Tom Brokaw in New York, another name Blacks liked to drop. Layden tested Blacks again by telling Brokaw that he knew Dave Blackwell. Says Layden, "He said, 'Dave Blackwell is one of the best broadcasters I've ever known. He is wonderful,' and he went off on him for a couple of minutes." When Benson wrote a column about Blackwell earlier this year on the occasion of the latter's retirement, he received an e-mail from Brokaw thanking him for writing about his "good friend Blacks."
Brokaw also added that "Blackwell was so witty and talented that even his demons couldn't keep him down." There was a darker side, and Blacks used humor to deflect his pain. He made no secret of his sadness over his divorce. His health went downhill during the past decade. What seemed to brighten him most was talking about his children, David and Julie.
Blackwell chose sports as his journalistic arena, but he could converse expertly on any subject. He was passionate about jazz music. He loved dogs and pets, some from the animal shelter. He not only read voraciously, but he could recall and quote what he had read. He was an excellent cook. He loved good food with French and Italian names and wine and whiskey and cigars. He didn't care for movies, but he loved the theater. On road trips with the Jazz, he would visit art galleries, attend plays, frequent jazz clubs and rummage through bookstores and pipe shops, sometimes with Layden in tow.
"Dave was one of the brightest men I've ever encountered," says Layden. "I enjoyed his company immensely."
So did everyone within the sound of his voice.
Doug Robinson's column runs on Tuesdays. E-mail drob@desnews.com.