At least once a week, and often every day for the past 35 years, I've had the privilege of hearing what Tom Snyder had to say.
In recent years it's been on a weekly phone call, but that sadly ended July 29, when Tom lost his battle with leukemia at the much too young age of 71.
The first time I saw him was in 1972. I was a student at USC and watched him anchoring the news on KNBC.
Wild hair, super-wide tie, cigarette smoke wafting above his head when he came back from commercial. A sparkle in his eye and a voice so strong that he almost came through the lens of the camera into the student lounge, where we were all mesmerized by his no-holds-barred, in-your-face style.
He was such a dominant force in L.A. news that NBC gave him his own talk show called "Tomorrow," which followed Johnny Carson from 1973 to 1982 and pioneered late, late night TV and paved the way for Dave, Conan, Bob Costas and others, earning multiple Emmys and rave reviews along the way.
"Tomorrow" also broke new ground in the kinds of things you could do on TV. The first interview from a nudist colony. First interview with a real-life mafia hitman.
Also, John Lennon, a young Bono, presidents Carter and Bush (Sr.), Mohammed Ali and the legendary Alfred Hitchcock, of whom Tom asked, "What scares you?"
"Policemen," replied Hitchcock.
Had that question been asked of Tom, the answer would have been, "Nothing." He was fearless.
In 1974 when NBC asked him to move "Tomorrow" to New York and anchor the news there to bolster sagging ratings, he opened his first newscast by saying, "I'm the new guy. ... I don't work for NBC or its executives or for the advertisers. ... I work for you, the viewers."
That philosophy got him in hot water on many occasions with top NBC execs like Fred Silverman and the heads of NBC News and, on occasion, with his guests and sometimes in his everyday life.
Tom was fearless and often politically incorrect. He asked the tough questions we all wanted answered and he spoke truth to power. He never tried to make himself "commercial" or "sellable." He cared about getting at the truth and cutting through the layers of pre-packaged, canned responses that personify most interviews.
Sometimes on the air or off, the subtleties, the social radar most of us who toil in this business try to employ to keep ourselves in good graces, went by the wayside. Tom was hot, he was cold. He was up, he was down. He was in, he was out, but he always remained Tom, and sometimes that did not endear him to the power brokers used to having their asses kissed.
But the cabbies in New York loved him and shouted his praise when he walked by, and so did millions of regular, loyal viewers who appreciated his honesty and his great sense of humor, which was always on display. When Howard Cosell jousted with Tom on "Tomorrow," saying, "Your demise is near and this may be your last hurrah," Tom shot back, "Many more guests like you and it will be."
Of course, he wasn't always spot-on. He sometimes had trouble keeping up with the latest pop stars and, as his longtime producer-director Joel Tator recounts, "once introduced the singer Meat Loaf as Meatball."
He was a workhorse and could go for hours live if necessary without a script or a road map. Like the time a fire shut down the CNBC studios in New Jersey in 1994 and his was the only working studio (he was based in L.A.) at the network. He expanded his one-hour show to four and a half hours and broadcast live and by the seat of his pants, brilliantly, until headquarters could get back online.
The most fun was his opening "monologue." No writers, completely unscripted. Each night for five minutes or so Tom would take us into his life and inject himself in ours with stories and observations from his everyday life.
The ice cream cone he enjoyed at lunch or the folks he saw protesting at the nativity scene in Beverly Hills or his new yellow T-Bird or some cornball joke he heard from the crew that day ... always followed by that one-of-a-kind laugh, made famous by Dan Aykroyd on "Saturday Night Live," which repeats in my brain daily: "Ha ha ha ha ha" -- always five of them, in precise rhythm, always loud and infectious.
I got to share those laughs with Tom and so many wonderful friends and colleagues on the local news, "Tomorrow," "Primetime Sunday," "The Tom Snyder Specials" and "Tom Snyder" on CNBC.
Anything I might know about TV, I learned from Tom and colleagues like Pam Burke, Bruce McKay, Ricky Carson, Joel Tator, Debbie Vickers, Gerry Solomon, Paul Friedman, Marc Rosenweig, Michael Horowicz, Bob Morton and so many other talented people whom Tom brought into his inner circle.
I'm so lucky to have known him and learned from him and to have been his pal for the past 35 years. He was truly a unique voice. He gave me, and all of us, so much.
Poet Carl Sandburg wrote in his classic "Remembrance Rock": "The shroud has no pockets. The dead hold in their clutched hand, only that which they have given away."
By that standard, Tom died last week with his hands, and his heart, full.
Originally published in TV Week.