Bob Schadel

I guess I should mention a friend of mine died recently. Bob Schadel died of a heart attack, probably on New Year's Day, in his apartment in San Antonio. They found him a day or two later. His memorial service was this evening in Texas and I debated whether to drive down there. Then when I saw the snow, that settled it for me, and I stayed home.

Instead, I sent a remembrance for a mutual friend to read:

Bob and I worked at competing stations for 15 years –– or maybe more –– in Oklahoma City and never once crossed paths. We met for the first time at the San Antonio airport, when he arrived to give me a lift back to the world headquarters of the The Texas Network. If it wasn't for Bob, I wouldn't have had that job, and at the time, I needed it.

It was Bob who gave me the nickname "The Prince of Darkness," which I didn't really deserve. But The Texas Network needed a Prince of Darkness. We had a couple of Princes of Dim Light –– no names necessary, I assume –– but if there was going to be a Prince of Darkness, it might as well be me.

But that wasn't really me, and Bob knew it. We joked about it after hours. We spent enough time sitting together around in that little bar within staggering distance of my apartment on Blanco Road that he knew that I was just another grumpy middle-aged guy trying to figure out what the hell had happened to his world.

Bob was an inspiration to me then. My life was pretty much a mess, but he'd been through a lot worse –– surviving cancer, losing his wife, plus all the crap that anyone in the TV news business has to endure. It wasn't that he had a lot of profound advice to give. He didn't. But he just kept marching, head up, chin out. If he could do it, I decided, so could I.

I learned of Bob's passing by reading a post on MediaLine. By the third response down, someone was already asking where to send tapes to apply for his job. I can imagine Bob sitting across the table from me at Lindy's -- is Lindy's still open? -- offering his take on the matter. I won't ask Brian to repeat it, since I don't know who's in the room, but I think you can all imagine the gist of it.

But Bob never gave up on TV news. And by 'TV News,' I don't mean the 'holy smokes take a look at this shocking video' stuff that is the bread and butter of today's product, or exclusive HealthCast reports on people who make their own goat cheese -- I mean real news produced by real reporters who know where City Hall is and the difference between a senator and a representative and so on. Yes, TV news was actually like that once and Bob held out hope that someday it would be that way again.

I've cut my hair, turned on the lights, pretty much quit drinking and embraced the Tao. I don't lose my temper as much as I used to, and when I do, I don't throw things across the room. I loved San Antonio, and I often reflect fondly on the time I was there. But that was a crazy time in my life, and Bob helped me get through it.

Thanks for saving my ass, brother.

Bob was 59 years old.