Thursday, December 22, 2005
Bob was so gifted that I deliberately listened to his calls of baseball games at Ray Winder Field. I went up in the booth with him once or twice.
He was a personality on a black station in Chicago, WGCI. That was an enormous success, but Bobby just could not manage his own life.
He was a fine cook and keeper of the Harrison family secret Caesar salad recipe.
Bob Harrison figured out how to properly install the DSL modem card in my Mac clone. He could be pretty spooky by being so smart. Like a good Catholic, he remembered his share of Latin.
When Malachi Martin would be a telephone guest on my old show at KARN, Bobby would bring him up on the air at the end of his own show while Dr. Martin was waiting for me. Bobby would tease about what an unbelieving pagan I was and, together, they would recite the Prayer to St. Michael.
Saint Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;
and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host -
by the Divine Power of God -
cast into hell, Satan and all the evil spirits,
who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.
Bob was so sad at the end,
Radio is very cruel. Often the battle is bloodthirsty, and over nothing but a pile of scraps. It hardly seems worth the fight.
Life is still good and despair is Satan's greatest lie.
If only Bobby knew.