(In Memoriam: Bob Hardy, 1955-1998)
Talking to the Angels
It seemed odd, as Mik and I were driving toward Williams, when
we
flipped the radio dial to KYET. We got the AP satellite feed
instead of Bob’s “News of the Weird.” Sometimes
with Bob, the weird
is normal and the normal is weird. Bob Hardy is the station
manager, news announcer, and talk radio host at KYET in Williams,
Arizona. Mik and I were on our way to do “On the Road From
Freedom,” the Coconino Libertarians’ weekly radio talk
show.
We pulled up to the radio station building on Route 66. Bob’s
pick-up truck wasn’t there. The station door was locked.
There were
messages written in lipstick on the plate glass windows of the
little studio: “We miss you, Bob”, “Lot's of Love”,
“We Miss You—
Your Friends.” Different hands, same sentiment. Someone
had
thoughtfully left a tube of lipstick in the whisky-barrel planter
outside the studio.
“Oh shit,” I thought. Bob wouldn’t let me say
“shit” on the radio,
but my private thoughts don't always go out over the air.
I thought Bob had quit his job because the radio owners might
have
asked him to something contrary to his grain, grit and principles.
He did this a few years back at KVNA in Flagstaff. The management
wanted him to change his style and programming in ways Bob found
unacceptable. As Dennis Dixon related today, Bob finished the
show
he was doing at the time, and then quit his job and left.
He’d been doing a fine job at KVNA too. But he wouldn’t
budge on
principle and he wouldn’t do less than good radio. I have
always
admired Bob’s orneriness, as well as his wit, dedication,
and
genuine interest in the thoughts, fortes and foibles of his fellow
human beings. It’s what made him a great talk show host,
and the
founder of local talk radio in Northern Arizona.
“What’s Bob done now?” I thought, as Mik and I
walked down Bill
Williams Avenue in search of someone who might know where Bob
went.
We found the answer right off, at the corner market. Bob’s
wife,
Kay, had stopped by earlier in the morning. Bob was dead. He
died
at his home in Williams the night before. A heart attack.
Now we know where all that energy came from. Straight from the
heart. And the great heart had been drained.
The world changed suddenly, as surely as if tectonic plates had
collided beneath the town of Williams.
A few minutes before, Mik and I had been figuring out what we
wanted to do on today’s libertarian talk show, and how we
wanted to
record the new introductory voice-over.
Our perspectives shifted as quickly and as surely as they will
in a
major earthquake of this sort. Bob, dead? That can’t be.
Along about 8:30 Judy, KYET's office manager, came down and opened
the door to the studio. She didn’t say much, but I don’t
want to
see her expression on a person’s face too many more times.
I argued
for postponing local talk in Bob’s memory.
“No,” Judy said, “That's not what Bob would’ve
wanted.”
When we walked into the live studio, I had the strong sense that
Bob was still there. The little signs, notes, faxes, periodicals,
the equipment. Things Bob looked at everyday. The radio station
Bob
created.
Mik started setting up for the show. I’ve never seen him
move so
slowly. Maybe my eyes and ears were just registering slowly.
I’m
not sure which.
We didn’t do “On the Road From Freedom” today.
Mik hosted a
four-hour tribute to Bob Hardy. Several dozen folks called in
over
that time. Grief and tears, remembrances of good times, respects
to
the way Bob was, insights from folks who knew Bob a little
differently from other folks. Tributes and respect. Sadness at
the
passing of an American original and a true friend to many.
The radio station was milling with folks coming in off the street.
Some were crying uncontrollably; others would walk off a little
ways to sob in private. My main duties consisted in keeping Mik
supplied with coffee, and attempting to console some of the women
who would come in. The men came in too, but we were mainly just
staring, dry-eyed, at the walls. You can’t have everybody
crying at
the same time, or half the folks won't be able to console the
other
half.
The loss, for the Coconino Libertarians, is tremendous. Bob was
one
of us. His voice on behalf of freedom was the one most often
heard
in Northern Arizona. Bob kept a copy of the Constitution within
reach of his microphone, and he kept the Bill of Rights close
to
his heart to the end. A professional, he did not advertise his
Libertarian voter registration on the air. But he advertised
the
Bill of Rights at every turn. He talked about freedom and
responsibility in a way that’s influencing many lives.
Bob served as a communications mentor for many of us. He gave
Mik,
the Coconino Libertarian chair, a venue for proclaiming and
discussing libertarianism on the airwaves. First an hour a week,
and then two. Less than a week before his departure, Bob guided
me
through my first session as a radio talk show host. The man was
teacher, humorist, concerned citizen, preacher, raconteur,
individualist, and a gleeful thorn in the side of anyone who
tried
to get through life without thinking about what he or she was
doing.
The loss goes way beyond that experienced by Bob’s Libertarian
colleagues. The people of Williams and surrounding areas are
devastated by the loss of a true and caring friend. All of our
hearts go out to Bob’s widow and children, and to everyone
Bob
touched, so many of whom we will never know. Bob touched a very
many people, many sorts of folks who didn’t know each other,
except
through him.
He was also the sort of guy who would work tirelessly to raise
money for a family in need of help. Or intersperse political
commentary with helping someone in Williams, over the radio,
to
locate a lost dog.
Judy was right about today’s show. Bob would have wanted
it all to
go on. There could be no more fitting wake for Bob Hardy than
that
conducted on the radio, the phone lines clogged with laughter
and
tears, as all his friends called in to say goodbye.
If there’s a heaven, Bob’s up there, trying to find
a microphone,
smoking a cigar, pissing off some of the angels while he’s
got the
rest in stitches.
We wish you hadn’t left so soon, Bob, but we’re damned
fortunate
you were here.
Michael Voth
June 6, 1998
Afterword:
Donations to help Bob’s family can be sent to:
Kay Hardy
c/o KYET
138 West Route 66
Williams, AZ 86046
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